i can also write, as well as talk. in fact, i haven’t published an episode since april 25th, 2020. which… is not that long ago, but it is a while in podcast time.
i relapsed with my self harm. that’s all i have to say about that. well, ok; one more thing – i am trying not to relapse again.
honestly this is already a lot. a podcast? a 40+ minute video? hm. still, i’ll keep going, because such is the nature of my ocd.
i have not really got any money, right now, but i also have plans to (maybe?) buy packing supplies. to sell clothes; comics; merchandise perhaps even, shipped out personally, not through my current merch store.
i’m tired & woke too early, and rather than go get more dalgona coffee i think i’ll go sleep more.
i’m running; running as fast as i’m able, which admittedly is not that fast, but i do have asthma. which scenario is this? the one where i exercise and run short on breath, leading to an asthma attack? or the one where i try to exist and life beats me with its weapons. do you not think of living as a beast that carries many instruments of torture? how lovely that must be, wonderful, even.
i fit all the 2019 diagnostic criteria for hypermobile ehlers-danlos syndrome, so i told a counselor of mine i need her to transport me to and from and book a primary care doctor appointment, so that they can refer me to some specialist. a rheumatologist? who knows! whatever they decide is best, i suppose. i have so many symptoms; the arthritis, dislocating knees, hypermobile joints, velvety soft skin, arachnodactyly, acid reflux, gi hernias…. and the list goes on.
i used to do ballet. starting when i was three. i also briefly took gymnastics and trampolining lessons. then, acting was my thing, from age 6 onwards, for many years. i took a ballet class again at 14 but it didn’t stick – and at 15 my dad swept the rug from under our feet financially, taking me from middle-class-privileged, something i’d had just enough time to grow accustomed to, to wicked poor, and suddenly i had to quit ballet and my brother had to quit fencing because my dad took the money from the sale of the house in england. the one my mom was on her knees cementing steps for and scaring me by standing on banisters so she could paint far walls and ceilings. she was physically healthier then. she pushed through. my dad taking that money was the last thing, i think, for her, mentally. she was worried after that that she’d lose custody of my brother and i while we were minors after that, she functioned so poorly. i’ve watched her investment of a house fall into disrepair she can’t afford to fix and therefore hasn’t, asbestos and all, leaking pipes and still no heat or plumbing to my room so i can’t visit in the winter, etc. this isn’t a novel about how my dad ruined my life and the lives of others, though. i can save those stories.
so, heds, and suddenly it makes sense – the severe chronic gi issues? i get it, kind of. i mean, if i have a connective tissue disorder of the degenerative nature. perhaps. my illness is severe but not aggressive and fast-paced. for that i am grateful.
oh! and to feel relief. let’s not go there. what healthy person would need to relate; would read my blog?
so, what else. hm.
i dyed my hair extensions. miraculously, i continue to lose weight on my anorexia diagnosis, despite my eating more, to my horror. do as i say, not as i do, and i say eat what your body needs. by no means am i pro anything related to eating disorders in a way that feeds them…because while you aren’t eating, they get to eat away at you.
my hair extensions remain a toned blonde, with blue (diluted sfx fishbowl) and pink (straight out of the bottle manic panic amplified cotton candy pink). cute! i’ll insert an image.