Comprehensive List of Tasks
- grooming = yes, although I'm already dreaming of the day I can shave my legs again
- healthy meal = do Cheezits count? (no)
- Spanish = 1/2 pts, worked on lesson 15 a little
- coping = yes, did a reevaluation (pros/cons) and added to my about page on this online journal. I also sent out inquiries to the biofeedback center my shrink recommended and looked into myofascial massage stuff for later.
- paperwork/emails = yes, did tons and tons of emails
- movie review = watched Temple Grandin, I don't post reviews the same day I watch movies
- fun reading = read A Dog of Flanders, have added 3 film versions of the story to my queue (there are 4, but I wish I could find the 1935 movie or even better, Snow Prince... the writer, Kundo Koyama, did one of my favorite movies, Departures)
- meditation = nope, wasn't sure if I was gonna do this, it WOULD be good for me....
Medication = yes
Sober (no drinking/drugs/cutting) = yes
No Compulsions = yes, but it was close... I could really use some stuff from Amazon... err... want some stuff from Amazon
No Exercising = *sigh* I didn't but only because AgtOrange stopped me from cleaning the kitchen
Plenty of Fluids = yup
TOTAL SCORE = 9.5/14 = 68% hey, I'm still recuperating, whaddya want?
I don't think pregnant women can shave their own legs. With my swollen (from surgery) ungainly belly, not only have I developed a lower-back holding waddle, I found it entirely impossible to reach to shave my legs. It's going to be a hairy couple of weeks. Tying shoelaces, also difficult.
If I am to survive, one day I will have to learn to live within my loneliness. Watching Temple Grandin tonight only serves to remind me how different, how disconnected I am. You know that moment when you reach out and make a connection with another human being, that electric jolt of pure understanding when you are totally in sync? In over thirty years, I've had that happen exactly one time. Imagine going through life living in a bubble; that's what I am, a girl in the bubble, as surely separate as if I had an incurable disease that quarantines me from life. I could write for a thousand years and never scratch the surface of what moves me, how the breeze sounds like a murmured lullaby and streams fractal into music. The light on leaves is a dizzying swirl I can get lost in, but paisley makes me itch. Now that I am sober, I am fast coming to remember yet another reason to use drugs. All of this is overwhelming. When the tick of every clock and the chirp of every cricket is an alarm bell in your head, and light is a haze of fog that coats everything in mist. Imagine living in an acid trip without the body buzz; that's me without drugs. There are so many patterns, hidden equations, sequences of numbers, forms that shape into forms, the chaos of it all is almost more than I can bear without curling into a ball and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming.