I’m tired, really tired – could drop everything now, let it all go, and rest. But no, I must fight this – this heaviness cannot beat me.
I have an essay to write, then contracts to seek, but the essay must come first. I feel as though a very slow pendulum is swinging to and fro above my head, sending messages one by one down my spine, messages that could easily overwhelm if the swinging sped up. Steady, one step at a time – drink coffee, play with the beasts, another coffee and open the files, think carefully, plan slowly and just type. Fingers on the keyboard, eyes following the words, slow and steady. Just keep going. I can do this. Hand over hand, grasping for roots, placing my feet carefully on the vertical pit walls. I have a life, dammit. I just need to find it again. Disorientation, dizzying fog, confusion and apathy cannot beat me back – just breath, and grasp those roots. the grinning and the staring by culpeo fox
The Season of the Slutbitch is on day 12 and Hamish is coping okay with his moody and irritable sister; she just wants peace and quiet, while he just wants zoomies and sex – I don’t think he’s too fussed as to which. He’s doing a lot of lying down and huffing, his sad golden eyes looking longingly at her. Apparently zoomies with me are just not the same, and as for the sex, well……what can I say? 😉 Coffee and Iggy Pop time, before opening those books.
Depression is such a downer – you think you’re coping okay, and then suddenly you realise that a whole day has just passed you by; a whole day that could have been filled with life, but you’ve just wasted it on internalised drifting – which, by definition, is limited and has hard surrounding walls that merely bounce you back on yourself. No flying high, or dreaming on the wind, just cocooned in a cotton wool blackness.
I’ve been on Citalopram at 40 mg for years now, and I’m wondering if I should go back and harass the doctor for a change in meds; they make a huge difference, but the deep hole I’m in now belies that. But I have that quandary – scared of change, better the devil you know and all that, and a lacklustre feeling of despair and numbness (contradictory, I know) which prevents all positive action, and turns it into a minute by minute fight.
Right – going to be swearing a lot – fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s horrendous out there – Hello hurricane! Hamish spent the entire walk checking between Slutbitch and myself that it was okay, and at one point wedgied himself against his solid, lead-lined, low centre of gravity, sister in the hope she would help him keep on his paws. Ummm…..next moment they both blew over – absolutely peed myself laughing as they struggled, stunned, to their feet.
Finally my new super duper head torch has arrived, scary morning to be able to see properly. Really didn’t want to see that tree blow down, that owl getting blown out of the sky, the crops lying flat against the wind (although the patterns running across them were amazing as the wind scurried on its way). Certainly is a day for studying, or telly, or anything that doesn’t involve outside at all, and lots of coffee. Keep safe everyone xxx
So, now I have fresh, steaming coffee, and well fed relaxing, and slowly drying off, demons.
I may or may not study – guilt competes heavily with the determined drive of procrastination; I should study with an essay due soon, but it’s Sunday so I should relax, Monday is always busy for me, so I should study today, but it’s Sunday, I should whore for writing contracts, but I should study, but it’s Sunday. You see the problem? Another coffee should fix these thoughts – yup, definitely, maybe.
Hearing the wind battering around last night like an angry giant who’s lost something really, really small and doesn’t realise that stomping and howling is not the way to locate something that doesn’t want to be found, I honestly thought I would be flying malamute kites this morning. I had visions of airborne moots, with tails as rudders, and happy, laughing eyes, ducking and diving through the pre dawn sky – although as usual my mind turned to the problem of poo, and could I avoid the falling turds of doom? But even so, I had a musical mix of Mary Poppins and early Kate Bush in my head, which tbh is not that unusual.
Skipping along with my malamute kites, watching them swoop at freeflying rabbits, and leaves of gold that would fill the sky around them. However, the reality of mud, staying vertical and blooming cold was very different.
Ho hum, coffee time now then writery type stuff – ‘ready my quill and parchment, serf’
I hate myself for smoking – I hate the control, the guilt, the money spent (when I’m broke anyway), the smell, the flakes of spilled ash, the dependence, the planning – mustn’t run out, when do I need to get more? The fact I bought myself an expensive vape kit last time I planned to give up, promising myself that it was money well spent.
But I do love smoking – I love that first drag, the thinking ‘oh, I’ll just finish this and then have a cig’, the sitting down with a fresh, strong coffee, a good book, and a new packet of 20.
This is the eternal quandary or the smoker – think of the money/health/time saved vs the modern day greed that we all suffer from in some shape or form. The fact that, within reason, we can have whatever we want, whenever we want it. Most addictions can be fed – be it nicotine, shopping, cake, or even alcohol and hard drugs can be accessed relatively easily.
Or am I just blaming my addiction on the easiness of society’s accessibility? Probably!
Well, this morning all seems calm here; we had a good walk, with Hamish happily extracting himself from a lead tangle without any issues. I can’t wear a headtorch because of where the wounds are which is a bit tricky, but they do seem to be healing. They feel hot and sore, but not infected,thanks to the antibiotics. However the bruising on my face – I think caused by huge paws, is coming out and I do look like an extra from The Walking Dead.
Antibiotics mixed with antidepressants seems to be a goooood mix – they get on just fine, thank you very much; a lovely little buzzy cocktail of feelgood chemicals. Now, with caffeine added, I’m well sorted for the day! So much so, that I have decided, today is the day to quit smoking – yup, really! Not entirely sure I am in my right mind!
Hamish has been completely normal (and was all day yesterday too) and had wuffles, and hugs, and zoomies, and chase, and football, and singing, and stuff, and more zoomies, and some more wuffles and singing. All perfectly normal, nothing to see here 😉
Photo taken at one of our first rallies, about four years ago, at Rendlesham Forest by the wonderful Elizabeth J. Dziergas. She is an absolutely amazing photographer, frequently getting rained on and covered in mud for her art! And her dogs are stunning too! Many thanks to her xxx