Interrupted

My Life Thus Far
2017-02-13 00:16:31 (UTC)

Where Pain Used To Be

Last night I came home from the most ordinary night at work I've had in a long time. It's pretty much gotten to the point where work isn't even worth discussing. I do the same thing everyday, and unless there's something outside the realm of that basic work life spectrum - something interesting to share, or an idea to extrapolate on, it really isn't worth bringing up. Blah, blah, blah... I did the same thing I always do and have done for over 10 years, blah, blah, blah... that's how a lot of my entries feel to me. I can and need to do better. And on the days when I can't think of something better to talk about than work, or on the nights when I can't really pull anything pressing out of my mind, so I resort to work dribble, I need to just not write... or try harder to dig a little deeper into what's whispering inside of me. Because there is always an internal dialogue to tap into. So yeah, I didn't write last night because I spent all day in bed, then went to work. And work was work. I didn't want to talk about that.


Since all the headway I'd made into self-reflection, positive self talk, and working my little program seems to have been put on the back burner the past couple days, I feel like I'm taking steps backwards. Back into behaviors like not washing my hair for four days, and just throwing it into a bun, because the very idea of getting in the bathtub or taking a shower felt like the greatest undertaking since discover the new world. Self-care hasn't been consistent or anywhere near as intentional as it should be. I took a bath tonight. Washed and deep conditioned my hair, and did a lavender coffee salt scrub. it felt so good, and was much-needed, but it took everything I had in me.

I didn't get out of bed until after 4pm today. And I wasn't just laying in bed watching TV. I never even turned on the TV. I slept all day. And I could have kept sleeping, except Keenan came in and said "mama, it's a beautiful day. You wanna go walking?" It wasn't his intention at all, but he made me feel so guilty. I couldn't tell him no. My little angel. I swear, he's been so stinkin' sweet lately. I don't know what's going on, but he's been the sweetest soul, especially to me. For him, I got up, got dressed, and took him and Kiki for a walk. Clear Creek trails.

My heart was not in it. I had a tough time seeing beauty and normally that isn't an issue for me on nature walks/hikes. Tonight, all I could see were dead trees, dormant foliage, litter, urban decay, dirt and grim of a trail meandering through an urban landscape. I don't ever see it that way usually. Normally I see a forest oasis. A respite of nature in the midst of a fairly bustling city. What changed, I have no clue. I couldn't wait for our walk to be over. I wasn't feeling it. But I wasn't and still aren't feeling particularly sad or depressed. Maybe this is a point of depression where even I can't tell him in it? The ambivalence isn't as strong as usual, but it's there. Ever so stealthily ruining my love for things I have always cared about.

I had a headache when I got out of the bath. I find it utterly impossible that it's from being tired. It isn't from lack of food either, because I'd just finished dinner (potato kale soup and a grilled Tofutti American sandwich on Tuscan Pane). I took a few hits from my Presidential OG Kush and it's starting to kick in. It's the craziest sensation, feeing the pain melting away. But for me when the pain subsides, I'm still very aware of the area where the pain was. Like a different sensation takes over where pain used to be. In this case, a quiet buzz or hum. Almost a vibration. It's not unpleasant at all. I'm continuously grateful for what cannabis has done for me. And every time my dad tries to say something derogatory about it, I will always defend it. He acts like it's a narcotic (he's a well-trained sheep of this skewed society. It's what he's been taught to believe). He also thinks cannabis contributes to the deteriorated mental state of some of the people he sees at work (he works in a hospital). It irritates me to no end, but what can I do when the government he's spent his whole life devoted to has told him marijuana is a terrible drug?

Well, now that the headache is gone, I really should attempt sleep. I have no reason to believe so, but I believe tomorrow will be a good day. I'm hoping this is a self-fulfilling prophecy.




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