It used be real estate was the job of choice for the housewife desperate for human engagement - at least in the US. I suppose because the market is so different in the UK. I mean, they just don't do open houses the way one would do it in the US. I mean, how I am supposed to shore up my income as a teacher's assistant or a yoga instructor? Not that one can't but I am talking considerable shoring up, retirement shoring up. Creating passive income shoring up. I mean, is there an Only Fans market for Archiving in lingerie?
Coronotation day and I found myself doing US Taxes after spending the morning in bed, staring at the ceiling, crying silently, after being woken by two of Essex's finest to my move my car so that the Army could move in cannons. I wondered how many people ended up having their cars towed.
I woke up agitated and unrested, probably because I fell down a rabbit hole of the OKC bombing in 1995, beginning with Jon Ronson's podcast on Carol Howell and white supremacy yesterday adte dropping the youngest off at school.
I remember staring out the window of the meeting room on 5 January 2018, overlooking the memorial and thinking that I just don't know how much longer I want to exist in this kind of world, making little difference in the world, having no impact outside of laundry. It is the kind of low mood that years ago would have led to a bender of reckless behaviour, in a variety of forms, anything to turn the pain off. But I didn't avoid the pain today. I forced myself to sit with it, lean into the bruising agony of self-loathing and worthlessness. And it eventually shifted, lifted, even. All those people...gone.
From the podcast, I found my way to the Turner Diaries, which is just full of hate and viciousness.
I showered, went back to bed and the ceiling, then eventually shifted myself to putting on clothes.
Later, I walked down the street and one of my style crushes saw me. 'Oh, my gosh! I am in love with every thing you are wearing right now. Those colours! All of it.' And it made me feel seen, even if for moment, before I got home and was swept up in a flurry of disorder and chaos. It has been 5 weeks since the flare-up and I feel like it is taking me a long time to recover. And to focus on projects.
My executive functioning has improved but it isn't level. I have to be so careful of my mind getting diverted and hyperfocused on something so tangential, I don't even know how it got on the radar. This isn't always a bad thing and will certainly help as I kick research for _The Skin Librarian_ into 3rd gear.
And so it goes.
Comments
Post a Comment