I am so far behind anything substantial that it's almost ridiculous trying to keep making lists about things needing to get done soon.
Things that have actually gotten done in the last 24 hours-
- Brutal deep tissue therapy
- Many hours of childcare
- Restocking food
- Assessing priorities
- Plugin meeting
- 5 hours of sleep
Today I must absolutely tear my fridge apart making sure we're not wasting anything forgotten, and catch up on laundry. Again.
No, I haven't rested. I know, someone my age in my condition is supposed to be resting.
Oh, yeah, the 6400+ media graphics G+ is dumping out of my blogger albums because why the hell not. All systems divert to saving content I've already copied over to final destination...
I also started a whine blog. It's been public, but now it's linked. No frills.
The super sourtude that broke out in the patriot camps this past week seems to have hit my house square, and I'm having my own personal semi-uncontrollable mood meltdowns daily now. Considering the spiritual warfare going on, the timing is understandable. I'm finding it unacceptable, though. I don't know how to make it stop. I haven't been able to withdraw and hide in game like I use to, thanks to new demands and challenges being met, particularly last night being so disrupted and this morning being so miserable for those of us here in the house that we can barely function normally. I have no idea how my blood pressure has been lower than my norm this week, but two different doctors confirmed 110 or less over the 70s. That is unheard of in my history under this level of stress.
I haven't reflected in awhile, so let me divert for a few and see where this goes.
I was picking kiddo up from school a few days ago, super downpour going on and ridiculously stupid getting into the school even with umbrellas, soaked to my knees somehow, but I digress. I was waiting for kiddo to pack up and another older woman showed up, saying it was her first time picking up a grandkid, where to sign out, etc. She took the chair by the signout table and started talking, like people do. She was too young at 45 to become a gramma, and by the way it's Nana. Her oldest is 10 years old, and apparently her whole life is about being Nana. She's a Nana. She seemed a bit worn out and I could have sworn she was in her 60s, all gray, a little bent, very tired. She's younger than me.
Here I was standing around waiting because I am able. My hair isn't even gray yet, still naturally it's own color. I'm not wrinkled enough for anyone to think I'm past my 40s. Somehow I am keeping up, doing more work then I ever did in my 30s, even keeping a fragile grasp on better health in general, faking it for all the world because I don't look my age. No one can see how fail my arms are, how difficult my spinal pain makes everything, how hard it is for me to keep dragging around trying to smile. It's all a charade.
And now I'm having meltdowns. Aging brains have a harder time maintaining composure. I watched my mom go through that.
Being tired at this age goes far beyond being tired in one's 30s, no matter how much sleep is lost, meals are missed, and problems arise for middle age. 'Younger' adults cannot even conceive of what it's like to have all the same problems all over again at twice the age with three times the physical problems and more mounting all the time.
Yesterday my massage therapist let me know most normal people that she works on with my level of muscle hardness at least groan when she works that hard on the tough areas. I never breathed a sound. I enjoyed it.
Imagine hurting so badly so continually that it feels wonderful for someone to make you hurt more, to make you feel beat up, to make you feel like they are trying to make you cry.
And still I survived a nearly sleepless night with a tiny sleepwalker and woke to an early riser who wet the bed and now I'm using these poor arms to stuff a huge comforter into the wash again, a week after I did the same thing for puke after kiddo's big night out at the movie theater. I'm washing and folding extra loads of sheets that aren't being washed in clinic because the inconvenience for all of us would be even worse. I'm driving extra, cooking extra, doing extra dishes daily on top of my own life.
I by no means regret this life choice, but all boiled down, if the world burns and the internet goes dark, there is nothing I can do to stop it and I'm not going to make the choice to bail on my family to salvage stuff any more.
I can see the visits that pin certain posts in other countries because what I take the time to say in some of these posts is that important. I really hope you guys are making backup copies somewhere. If blogger goes down on the heels of G+, it's just all gone. I chose G+ and blogger because it seemed the safest. I guess I was naive to the evils of big corp owning and controlling thought transmissions. That's what this is, guys. Our thought transmissions being controlled by media giants. The big lure, no promises. They owe us nothing while they rake in yuge moneh all over the world.
Back to the reflection. I'm obviously superwoman. I'm in better shape than many women my age, despite the constant setbacks and the years of crawling I did out of the abyss of failing health. Many women my age are having heart attacks, falling and breaking bones, dealing with cancers, have already lost a spouse or are dealing with divorces late in life, etc. I feel like my whining is futile, a poor diversion in my time budget, but something that needs addressing asap since I seem unable to stop the meltdowns lately. My appointment back to psychologist doesn't happen until May. I see psychiatrist before the end of this month. I may be asking for assessment this year. I may wind up with a diagnosis I've been trying to put off for a very long time. Problems in my family include schizophrenia, personality disorders, and Alzheimers. I'm already living with undocumented time and sometimes place disorientation per the last 6 years of Pinky blog. I'm autist with pain and mood disorders, delayed emotional processing, and mildish narcissism now dealing with aging brain. By the time my mother was this age she had started having mini strokes. In 4 years I'll be the age she was with right side deficit and speech problems from a major stroke. It would be silly of me not to get back on track with my health team monitoring my mental state.
This reflection comes full circle back to the corporate giants that keep us so destitute that even trying to live lower middle class is a losing game of mountainous debt while they get richer on keeping us distracted with our 'purchasing power'.
We're living check to check. We've cleaned off credit. We pay all our bills. We own aging cars. I finally threw a sweater away this week that was 15 years old. I'm scraping nickels and dimes together to get new glasses this year. I own one pair of shoes.
The choices we make every single day determine how gracefully we go down later. Fresh food is more important to me than getting my nails done. Staying ahead of the brain fog is way more important to me than subscriptions to streaming services.
Stuff like that.
Quality of life on this planet is extremely important, and being addressed. I'm waiting for the changes. If I'm lucky I'll get another ten years, and I very much want to enjoy every minute of them.
