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Holy random acts of kindness, Batman.
After getting my flu vaccine, I went to look at the cane rack, because they have this beautiful blue and silver one that looks like dragon scales, and I have been waiting for discounts and coupons so I could get it. The price is under twenty dollars, but still.
A middle-aged man who looked so much like Idris Elba that I did a second take, also reached for the blue silver cane. Our eyes met, I smiled briefly. He said, "You know, I bet this would make an awesome magic staff for cosplay."
I grinned and said, "Good plan! I should at least join a game just so I can brag. Or just be my paganish elf self and cosplay every day." Which was blurted out because my filter is so thin.
The Idris Elba lookalike chuckled. "I adore that idea. I just pray to all mighty Atheismo that we aren't going too deep. Like that Tom Hanks movie."
My jaw dropped. "Duuude," I said. "Futurama reference plus obscure D&D rip-off movie nee book reference? Cripple high five!"
We high fived and missed on purpose, stumbling. "Mild cerebral palsy, spastic hemiplegia" I said. "Mild cerebral palsy, diplegia mixed," he said. "And knee arthritis."
"And sciatica," we said in union, surprising ourselves.
"Fibromyalgia and epilepsy and autism too," I added.
He said, "My twin nieces are autistics! Their world is so awesome. I think they prefer me to my brother when they're in meltdowns, they talk about what's going on in detail."
"Awesome!" I said.
At this point, we had been staring at the canes and I had been avoiding too much eye contact. I was about to ask the Idris Elba lookalike about advocacy. Then I saw a gleam in his eye and sensed a topic shift. "Hey, listen," he said. "I'm a proponent of the pay it forward thing. I know we're strangers, but I do know enough about you that you really want the dragon scale cane."
I tilted my head. "Yeeeaah?"
"So, okay." He pulled some pieces of paper from his pocket. "I've got a buy one get one half off for this brand of canes. I will buy you your cane. What do you think?"
I blinked a few times. I looked at him. He wasn't hitting on me. He wasn't being creepy. He was just a fellow cripple offering help.
"Okay," I said, "thank you! That's really kind."
"Hey, the community needs all the assistance we can get from each other. Cripples helping cripples, you know?"
I smiled. "Totally."
As we walked to a register, he said, "I want you to know that I had no intention of hitting on you. I see your rings, and for all I know they could mean something else. But while I think you're a gorgeous-looking person, I have no plans on being a That Guy. I punch Those Guys on a regular basis."
"Physical trainer. Not so much punch as pinch in sensitive areas. Men can be scum."
I giggled. "Hashtag Not All Men!"
He laughed. "Anyway, let me pay for everything." He nodded at my basket, which had a few comfort items. I immediately said he shouldn't, since he was getting me the cane.
He then put my basket on the conveyor belt, looked at me until I noticed that his eyes had gold rings, and said, "Then pay it forward. Help another cripple." The corner of his mouth turned up. "Even if it's just donating to help someone get better access."
I nodded. I was going to cry any minute. He paid for everything, put his things in two totes and put my things in two more totes. He saved me almost forty dollars.
He said, "I would offer you a ride, but my friend's picking me up so we can go back to Philly. It's been a great road trip so far."
I nodded. "It's cool. I'm going to take the bus home anyway." I was feeling giddy. "Well, obviously we had this encounter for a reason. So. It was lovely meeting you, clone of Idris Elba."
He threw back his head and laughed. "I get that a lot. Same to you, clone of Mia Sara. Anyway, I'm Laurence."
We fist-bumped and he helped adjust my cane for my height. We walked outside together, and he stood at the curb to wait for his friend while I walked across the parking lot. I turned and waved. He waved back and kept looking at me. I realized it was to make sure I was safe.
I got to the sidewalk crosswalk and peered back. I saw him get into a green SUV. I realized I would probably never see him again.
I am definitely going to Pay It Forward.


Also! Links! For future reference!


PMS is vicious. Although with oral contraceptives, it's technically withdrawal bleeding rather than menstruation. Besides, I haven't truly bled in over a year. Being on the highest dose of birth control for over fourteen years will do that to some women.
PMS is vicious. A veliciraptor chewing through my pelvis. There's a photo out there of a plastic female human skeleton, with a toy raptor stuck head-first through the pelvic bone.
And the bloating and bizarre fluctuations on the bathroom scale.
Having slid back to psychiatric anorexia after failing to control neurochemical anorexia, I know damn well I should not stand on that scale especially during this time. I know damn well that numbers don't mean as much as how my clothing fits. But paranoia bred from life-long anxiety over disordered eating patterns is paranoia. And then there was the entire food=growth=death connection when I was little. And then there was being under a hundred pounds until my mid-twenties. And then there was the anorexia voices insisting that I needed to get back to that, being under five feet tall. I was never overweight. I used to weigh something around the high "set point" - but I have no idea where I've constructed this memory of being convinced to lose twenty pounds. Unfortunately, my illness has burrowed deep enough into my subconscious that my thoughts have turned to the classic hallmarks of anorexia: "I absolutely must be below X number or I will never feel right". The unwillingness to stop. The belief that everything is wrong. I know where I am. I know what's happening. I've been able to compartmentalize and separate enough so that I smack myself when those thoughts occur, so that I at least eat an apple or two, or cheese, yogurt, celery, even cheesecake or dark chocolate. My friends are with me.
Sag Harbor will happen next week, with Thanksgiving. Part of me is in a total blind mute panic. That part doesn't want to eat anything. That part wants to Be Good, Be Perfect. It doesn't matter that I'm over thirty, says the panic. It only matters that I am extremely small and I must keep being extremely small.
To bring everything around again: PMS is not helping. PMS is several numbers upward on the scale because of fluid retention, bloating... losing that fight to not overeat. PMS is barely fitting into the purple dyed jeans yesterday and having them slightly loose today. It isn't helping anything.

But I look at that blue and silver dragon scale cane, bought for me by a total stranger with the same disability as me, and I think the best way I can Pay It Forward is to make sure someone I care for stays as mentally healthy as possible...
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...well, this hit me like a rock to the head. Beautiful and profound. I applaud and I also agree. And this, right here, THIS, THIS is why I don't agree with so many so-called self-help happiness programs. Someone else's source of happiness can never be mine. Ideas are always lovely, word of mouth is a great idea, teaching personal knowledge of happiness is wonderful. But nobody, ever, can tell me how I can find my happiness.
BRB, having a moment.

The comic )

You know what it makes me think of? The ugly smugness of those particular people who think that if they just avoid negativity, don't get angry, and insist that we stop "being so angry" and how they seem emotionally superior, a sort of moral superiority, but so insidious. Because it's like the difference between having had a rock in one's head with the rock being dislodged and not having had a rock in one's head at all. If you don't understand someone else's different perspective, there is no fucking way you could truly understand where and why they are feeling how they feel.
It's the way Zach wrote about the difference that the students could not feel, since they never had the teacher's experience. And the teacher couldn't teach the teacher's experience because it was in fact unknown and unrealized. And so the teachings were in fact merely the teacher's perceived feelings and ideas. Which is very nice, but... it's more empty than fulfilling.
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Okay, so. Calliope has a daily/nightly habit of coming to me when I'm lying down, snuggling lengthwise against my torso, resting her head in the crook of my arm, and nursing on whatever fabric is available - my shirt or a blanket. Since I've never seen a nursing kitten actually up close, it fascinates and thrills me. I can feel her little tongue doing that flittery thing and those tiny suckling noises are like an anti-anxiety drug. I need to make sure her paws aren't touching my skin, because even clipped the claws still sting.
Now, is this a thing all cats tend to do, or mainly just cats who were weaned early? I know nothing about Calliope's previous days before the humane society, and all they know is that she came in as a stray, beaten up and stuck with burrs, approximately just over one year old. It's possible she was born in a house and the litter was weaned early to be adopted out to new homes, or... similar ideas. I have no idea. She is so trusting that I am almost certain she was a house kitten. She gives me her belly and throat and leans into me with complete security and adoration. I wonder who her Person was before me. She does indeed have Egyptian Mau and a small touch of Abyssinian in those brown classic tabby genes, and her demeanor, behaviors, personality, and traits are so incredibly Mau that I think she may as well be renamed Joanna's Cat-Child. I call her that now, Cat-Child. "Oh, Cat-Child, what to do with you?"
And so my mother believes she needs to quickly grow out of nursing on me directly, but I don't. I want to believe this will be a Thing she keeps doing until she decides to not one day. I just automatically place a hand on her rump or neck and feel fascinatingly motherly while she purrs against my breast.

Also, I can't make the bed right now because cat.

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This is almost kind of ridiculous.
I still have a migraine... and I am fully full of bouncing energy, and vicious pain, and emotional thrill, and I have a smile on my face just because for no reason, and I am in terrible terrible pain, and I am still mildly postictal, and I am on the edge of a major depression episode, and I am making happy thrilled noises, and I cannot explain any of it. I could connect it to being smacked in the head twice yesterday, but I doubt it.
But I'm just going with it. Because why not.
I totally need, like, a plushie brain, with the amygdala specifically colored in a happy color.
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Holy crap, faith in people restored. I asked a taxi driver how to walk to the therapist office, and after he gave me directions, he noticed my cane and then he offered to drive me and show me the exact route. And I quote "I want to spare you some pain and fatigue." When I told him I only had 15 in cash, he said he would take 5 in total regardless of distance and would help me just because he wanted to. Sweetest cabbie ever.

Most intense hypnotherapy so far. I cried. Many emotions and realizations were released. It was fantastic. We shall continue in that focus next week. It is a lot to focus on.
In the meantime, I will try to avoid joining discussions about social justice and socioeconomic issues that make me feel uncomfortable. I need to just walk away and breathe and let it go, and not allow poor internet manners and trolling for fun make me sad.

Oh gods, Dawson's Market. Oh, oh, oh. Tempt Hemp Milk Unsweetened Original. Pumpkin Brownie. Cheesecake Brownie. Lake Champlain Mocha Hot Chocolate Mix. Giovanni Cosmetics 2chic Ultra-Sleek Leave-In Conditioning & Styling Elixir at half price. Organic canned cat food. I love this store. This store is like my best friend in organic market form. Even if I don't buy much, I love everything. In fact, I barely spent anything. Compared to Whole Foods, it has some better things, but Whole Foods has other better things. But Dawson's has hemp milk. Hemp Milk. Hemp. Milk. Nobody else has hemp milk. Or that Mocha Dutch Cocoa Powder. And Dawson's is indeed less expensive. So, yes. Dawson's Market, I love you.

I am really loving Once Upon A Time In Wonderland. I really am watching for any bits that remind me of my epilepsy adventures.

Seriously, that hypnotherapy session. I keep going back to it. I keep remembering how kind, compassionate, and loving Sanaa was when she sent me under and guided me. I keep thinking about what we will do in the next session. This is powerful. This may be the life-changing session.
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I stretched the hell out of my back and legs and arms. It was lovely. I did it my way. I am very pleased and very satisfied. I won't discuss the various burning barbed wire pains that are distracting me even through the codeine, but I will talk about the beautiful meditative exercises I've been working with. Peaceful, serene, tranquil, calm, relaxing, refreshing, fantastic in multiple ways. The scene always changes, but always appears Zen in some way.
I had mentioned that my human coping mechanisms, my spirit guardians, had begun communicating with each other deep in my brain without my conscious knowledge, which leads me to believe that parts of my brain are starting to come together as part of the story, as my unlimited imagination and writerbrain is starting working on a whole new, amazingly unique, private story all on its own. No wonder I have been working on Amber's story beyond these bits of my brain. Amber has also given me free reign to write her as a fully developed character and not just a created coping mechanism.
In general, I am just... very happy.
And the funny thing is that I am in a depressive episode. I have all the symptoms, and I am quite conscious and aware. But I have things that are helping distract me: Talking about my imagination and my creativity, talking about the triggers for my panic attacks and my simple seizures, talking about comedy TV shows and powerful fiction books. Somehow it all is able to keep the major depression away, although it is a very intense fight. Sometimes I find myself weak and struggling, even physically, as thoughts of worthlessness and hopelessness, frustration and terror, pessimism and guilt all slam into me and my wall and my shell.
I suppose I could say I am happy. I feel happy.
But... what is happiness?
"Happiness is a mental or emotional state of well-being characterized by positive or pleasant emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy." Sure, I feel those things. However, there is a strong undercurrent of the exact opposite.
Brains, man. Brains are wild. Brains are weird. Brains are so complex. One day, I want to have an MRI and see exactly what my brain is doing. I want to sit with multiple brain specialists for hours on end, and just... talk. I want to talk about my brain.
Brains, man.
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Why is it that, in most dreams where I am in physical danger, I am unable to scream or move quickly?
My last dream involved a bad fall and crash at the top of the stairs, while a large group of people were downstairs having a small quiet party. Something supernatural was with me, something insidious. I grabbed the stair ledge and pulled myself up to a kneeling position. I yelled my husband's name, but it was only a whisper. I couldn't call for help, not with the shadowy creature surrounding me. I was moving so slowly. It felt as though nobody was in the house but me, me and the cats.
And abruptly, I realized that nobody was in the house. Adam was at work. There was no party. The cats were all downstairs. It was only me and the shadow entity. I struggled to call on my internal resources, my spirit guardians, but even my psychic voice was muffled. I was not afraid. I was determined. I was badly injured, and I only had myself, and my powers to create weapons and defenses were drained. I stopped trying to stand. I knelt there and mouthed words, calling on the water in the bathroom, the air circulating around the house, the earth under the house, the fire downstairs used to light the gas stove. I pulled in all into me, and with a desperate burst, I unleashed it. The shadow creature shrieked and vanished.
Without any warning at all, the house filled with presence again. There was that quiet downstairs party. I whispered my husband's name again, struggling to turn it into a cry. Someone must have heard. Adam came up the stairs and found me, sagging against the door of the bathroom, my nose bleeding. He spoke to me. He half-carried me to the bedroom and helped me lie down. He brought damp towels and tissues and water with electrolytes. I managed, somehow, to tell him that a negative spirit had entered the house and stole my strength, and I pulled all the elemental power I could to drive it away. He was very proud but also puzzled, since the house was supposed to be powerfully shielded and guarded. I was crying but I didn't mean to cry. It was just a reaction without intention. He stroked my hair and curled up with me, and me took my hand and fed me energy and power and strength, and he said, "Go to sleep, my darling. I'll be monitoring you through our psychic bond and everything will be okay. I will strengthen the wards." He needed to check on our friends. He would back be up soon.
The dream ended there.

It has been something of a recurring thing: My slowness in dreams. My exquisite agony in dreams. My whispering words in dreams. Sometimes I can barely walk for the pain in my hips and knees. Sometimes I can only speak with thoughts instead of physical words. Sometimes my body is wrapped in a floating translucent shell and it is the only way I can move. In my dreams, the pain is so much worse than in reality. But I have access to weapons of all kind and I feel safe, even if something horrible grabs me.

When I was a child, I had flying dreams every night. Even astral projection. Like my father and cousins in their younger years. And if a harmful person appeared, I just waved my right hand fiercely, shouting "Shoo! Shoo!" to make then disappear.

When I was a child, I dreamed of dragons, of ancient tortoises, of unicorns mixed with white tigers, of phoenix birds with feathers of every color. Dragons have never been dangerous to me. Even if some were, there were always other dragons who were benevolent.

It is why I always bristle when I read an article comparing chronic pain to dragons. The only way I can see such battles happening is dragon against dragon. And I am a human amalgam of dragon, phoenix, tortoise, unicorn, white tiger, and fae, wrapped in the skin of a moonlight witch.

Then, why do my dreams cripple me? The only reason I can think of is to teach me to use the insides, the powers coming from my spirit and not my body. My body is very important and vital to me. But perhaps not so much in my dreams.

And I think this piece of art, beyond anything, is one of the greatest ways I can understand myself. Every time I look at it, I weep. I even have that same cane. I know Shinga and I barely know each other, but she knows chronic pain. She knows what being a warrior means. She was in the US Army and was badly injured and treated so poorly during therapy that she has severe PTSD. She is disabled badly. She knows battles. And I want to hold her and hold her and tell her what this means to me.
(Note: Please please refer to Shinga before borrowing or using this image. Please use the Deviant Art link. This is her work. Copyright Shinga. The only reason I displayed the actual image was in case someone can't click on the link.)
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Quote of the day so far:
"Oh, that's okay. Sometimes my very existence amuses, confuses, or utterly angers people for various reasons. Myself included. I am so fucked up and insane and crazyweird that I unintentionally upset someone or entertain someone every time I do anything. Why am I here? Who am I, really? Hell if I know. I forgot why a long time ago. But it is a good life, full of fascinating people, and I'm happy to stay for as long as it will have me."

Sometimes I just want to be Honey Badger eating pistachios. But I have too many emotions and too many reactions. Damn my screaming amygdala.

My mother says it is impossible for me to not be overly emotional to everything. Even, like, air.

I think that's why I like online socialization so much. I can have my emotions and my reactions and my masks and shells, and everyone I socialize with can have theirs. I struggle with physical interactions so much and I wind up draining my reserves. You know what I mean!
But!! My shells are cracking all on their own because I'm getting more confident. I've been collecting broken beautiful shells left and right. How about you??
We are so beautifully screwed up but we are together and I adore all of you.
Also, cracking shells have started becoming a new symbol for me. I'm covered in layers of shells of different colors and intensities. Gently breaking each one feels reliving.


I have no idea why, but right now I am so happy, joyful, blissful, content, and serene that bluebirds should be frolicking around my head. I just feel totally zen.

I am happy about my writing, my book reading, cleaning my house, brushing each cat for ten minutes, taking long walks, meeting random people and having small talk, being on the internet, not being on the internet, being by myself, cleaning my house again, being disabled forever, knowing all my limits and raising those limits and pushing forward when I can and pulling back when I can't, having several canes to walk with, taking medications that work, sharing my stories with people, loving myself because of all these wild flaws and faults.

Even being personally insulted on geek forums because I'm not wild about the fandoms. That makes me happy. Because it makes me laugh. People are adorable!

Just... happiness. Pure. Simple. I can't even explain or understand it. It permeates me. Like a Lotus Sutra. Like a Buddhist chant. Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
I don't think I could feel anything but happy right now. Even when it fades later, and it will, I shall remember.

Somewhere, Honey Badger is smiling.
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Seriously, you guys. Seriously. *points* This woman. This woman is awesome. She is AMAZING. All her custom ponies are amazing; they are fantastic, they are extraordinary.
But I think she and I can both say with total confident honesty that Serenity is the best. (Okay, the best so far. But still.) And Serenity belongs to ME, because this woman made her JUST FOR ME. As a special gift.
And she knew she was doing it even before I told her I was considering requesting a custom since they are pricey and I wanted to save up money. And there she was smirking and giggling smugly because I had no idea, and then I got Serenity in the mail and I cried and sobbed so hard because the happiness and joy was overwhelming.
And now Serenity is literally imbued with my magic, and I love her more than any toy I have received in my adult life...
And seriously, people, you should seriously consider Namaah's ponies. She is absolutely incredible.
But Serenity is still the best. Truth. *nods*

And still, whenever I feel anxious and upset and depressed, I just touch the lotus bud symbol on her forehead, and I actually honestly feel better.

Edited to add:

Serenity the pony called to me, so decided to take a photo to show how much I adore her.

I have not loved a toy so much since I was a teenager. I cannot thank [ profile] naamah_darling enough for creating and naming this pony just for me. This may be one of the most perfect toy gifts I have gotten in my adult life.

Serenity has been charged and imbued with as much personal magic energies as I could give her. She is now a method of helping me work with physical, emotional, and psychic self stimming in a weird way.
I talk to her during episodes of anxiety and depression; I kiss the lotus bud blaze on her forehead when I say goodnight. I brush her hair with wood combs and boar brushes. It relaxes me.

She soothes my brain and centers my mind in ways I cannot explain. She is a toy, custom made... but she is special beyond description.

It doesn't matter how old or young you are. There will always be some sort of toy or physical object that represents something important, something life-like or abstract or surreal, that you bond to deeply.
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So, a couple of months ago, I was chatting with [ profile] naamah_darling about her fabulous custom made My Little Pony dolls, which she paints herself with her own designs and even new hair. She sells them on Ebay for reasonably understandably high prices, because they are really extraordinary and unique.
I casually mentioned that one day, when I could afford it, I'd love a custom pony for myself. The matter was dropped.
And then a week or so ago, on Facebook, Naamah mentioned on Facebook that she was sending me a package. Since I've been sending her care packages full of skin care and supplements, I figured it was something similar, like a thank you. I didn't realize how anxious and excited she seemed about my receiving the package.

A couple of days ago, the box arrived. I opened it up and found the card first, with a glittery dragonfly on the cover. I opened it and on the left it read:

"Funny you should talk about a custom..."
And my heart kind of skipped.
And on the right it read:
"It took me a while to figure out her name, but it turned out to be so simple once she told me.
I made her thinking of you start to finish. She's all yours. She'll be a friend who can always be there for you and remind you that you are never alone.
Hope you love her. <3"

And even before I pulled away the paper wrappings, I was crying. And when I had the pony in my hands, and I saw her flank symbol, I cried even harder, murmuring "Oh my gods, oh my gods, she did this for me, she made this for me, oh my gods, this is amazing, this is so beautiful, oh oh oh..."

Because I had seen a photo, on Naamah's Livejournal, months ago, of this pony being painted, and I had instantly been pulled toward it, wishing it could be mine...
And here she is.
Meet Serenity.

Every morning, I look directly at her when I wake up, and she makes me smile. It is a wonderful, beautiful thing. Honestly, I don't think I can express it in words. Just... incredible. Love you, Naamah.
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Our contractor, Victor Faustino, arrived with swatches for new carpet and new sheet vinyl and our estimate. The price is only a couple thousand over State Farm's payment, which will come out of our tax refund - funny how life works out like that. Happy birthday, we're getting a new kitchen. Dark granite-like kitchen floor, dark gray carpet, honey brown cabinets. Victor was awesome; we had long talks about all sorts of things. I would recommend him. We gave him a bag of dried goji berries.

Adam then took me to the CVS in the Gaithersburg Square center, where I picked up several hair serums - much needed now that my hair is getting longer. (Nubian Heritage Indian Hemp & Tamanu Grow & Strengthen Serum as well as the matching conditioner; Optimum Salon 6-in-1 Miracle Oil; Motions Salon Naturally You Radiant Gloss. Chosen for their ingredients, such as argan, bamboo, neem, tamanu, biotin, shea, avocado, coconut. With the coupons, we saved just under twenty dollars.

We then went to H-Mart, and luckily we found seasonally rare soft shell crabs, which we shall deep fry, because the fryer also still has bacon grease. Dinner shall be awesome. I also grabbed that awesome Real Beanz Energize Coffee and Coco Cafe coconut water coffee in Mocha - Mocha has the best taste. They also had Bai5 coffeefruit juices and BodyArmor energy juices for half price. Grand Mart may have the wonderful whole milk Indian yogurt, but H-Mart has... all the other stuff.

I know I had put other things on my list, but they became unnecessary. I was just happy enough to spend time with the husband before he had to go off to work for several days once again.
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Adam and Luna.
She really is such a precious and royal cat to us.
And she adores him so so much.

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I hate making cryptic posts.
But I must, because Something is starting to happen, and a Thing is unfolding, and there are Tasks I must accomplish...
And I am so scared I cannot stop shaking. I am writing for my life. I have to finish it. What if it's not worthy? They say it is. This is the Big Leagues. This is SO Fucking Huge. I cannot even.
I can't think.
I can only write.
Oh my gods.
I have to write.
And take more Klonopin and Passionflower.
I might lose my mind.

I'm so sorry. I can't say anything else. Maybe in private.
I've never been this excited, overjoyed, overwhelmed, and terrified all at once.
I'll manage. I'll get through.
Just breathe.
Just breathe.

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Holy Gaia's Eyes, you guys, I finally figured out how to move the novel along more quickly. I finally wrote that one sentence - just one sentence - that broke through that blank wall of "Well, fuck, now what happens?" that many writers struggle with.
And now I'm several paragraphs past that. This is the first time I've managed to do that since summer. This is such an insanely massive personal breakthrough that I want to celebrate. But we already have cake and ice cream, so I'll just mark the day and I'll just keep on writing until fatigue begs me to stop.

And to think, all it took was for me to make the antagonist notice the main female protagonist's purple tourmaline engagement ring, which should have helped psychically protect her but didn't, because they're all powerful psychics there and can do what they want. Now to make her fiance suffer that broken neck a little more.

Seriously, though, I want to hug myself and cry a little.

Funny thing? I am in a violent amount of pain today, so severe that I really cannot to much other than type and type and pour my frustration and mood out into documents. Well, then.

To writing! *whiskey shot*
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This cosmetics stuff is for those who like to know these things (and also to distract myself from the storm horrors). Seriously, I've had friends specifically ask if I could post about my makeup. It's awesome.
My favorite full coverage concealers are: Bye Bye Concealer (my shade is Light)
Tarte Maracuja Creaseless Concealer (my shade is Light)
Kat Von D Tattoo Concealer (my shade is Light 18)
Almay Smart Shade Anti Aging Concealer (the red cap; my shade is Light)
CoverGirl Simply Ageless Concealer (my shade is Light 210) Creme Concealer or Foundation (my respective shades are Warm Light and Warm 2) Cream To Powder Concealers (my shade is Light Flesh) as well as Velvet Cream Foundation (my shade is Whipped Cream).

Now, all these concealers offer intense coverage to the point that they look almost like stage or film makeup, meaning that sometimes I wonder if my own face was Photoshopped to erase every single flaw and pore. I have found larger tubes of the It Cosmetics and Tarte on Ebay, which is worth the money. I would also like to add that MAC Studio Sculpt Foundation (I'm NC 15) and Urban Decay Naked Skin Foundation (I'm Shade 2.0) are also the most full coverage foundations I have ever used.
Every single product I've mentioned has skin caring, skin smoothing, and skin beneficial ingredients, with no petroleum or mineral oil. I hate using petroleum on my face because it caused problems (although if it's in a lipstick with lots of botanical oils and butters I don't mind, since lip flesh has no pores).

Now, my favorite lipcolors:
Revlon Lip Butter Lipstick in Red Velvet and Cherry Tart
Sally Hansen Moisture Twist Lipgloss in Cherry Twist and Berry Blend
It Cosmetics Vitality Lip Flush Lipstick in Pretty Woman and Love Story
Bare Escentuals BareMinerals Natural Lipstick in Red Zin, Italian Ice, and Passion Fruit
BareEscentuals Buxom Full Bodied Lipgloss in Va Va Voom, Hot Mama, and Hey Baby
Tarte Glamazon 12-Hour Lipstick in Wild
Tarte LipSurgence Lip Tint in Lust
Aveda Nourish and Uruku Lipstick in Cherrybud and Maracuja
BeingTrue Pure Lipstick in Temptress and Chanteuse
Studio Gear Lipstick in Super Star and Pink Quartz
The Body Shop Love Gloss Lipgloss in Raspberry

Most of these lipcolors are natural or at least have botanical oils and butters. The ones from Revlon and Studio Gear also have some petroleum, but I'm okay with that. I prefer lipcolors that help hydrate, plump, nourish, and smooth my lips. I'm not even going to list the dozens of lip balms I own.

brightrosefox: (Default)
Well, what do you know. The pain specialist nurse informed me that my stabby electric knee pain is totally a symptom of fibromyalgia. And it took me saying "Wait, really? Seriously? Are you sure?" before she started laughing. Also, my stabby electric wrist pains are a symptom of ulnar entrapment, and the doctors are going to give me a nerve test and then suggest specific exercises and braces for my elbow. Also, the nurse wants me to go to a physical therapy place that focuses on fibromyalgia. That thrills me. It's like, "YES! People really get it!"

So now I can add the thing that has annoyed me forever: When someone honks and cat-calls at me while they are barreling down the road especially in the opposite direction, what the fuck are they trying to do? I'm not going to respond. They'
re not going to slow down or stop (please gods no). What. Is. The. Fucking. Point? WHY?
It's funny. I HAVE been asked out by men and women in vehicles parked or slowed while I was walking, and they were always pleasant when I said I was married. Literally, "Hey! Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend? or Are you married? Yes? Aw, I got here too late. Well, you have a good day!" And they would smile kindly and move on. I mean, yes, it is still weird, but it's not harassment. If I'd said I was unattached, they would have asked me out, and we might have chatted for a bit. But they were at least polite. People who yell out wildly are so fucking creepy it gives me chills.

The thing that really really made my day like forever: A pain specialist nurse saying that fibromyalgia really can produce crazy evil symptoms just by being fibromyalgia, and that nurse recommending a very specific fibromyalgia physical therapist. I mean, truly, that made me so fucking happy I could cry. If only every fibromyalgia patient could have it like this.
Spears raised.

Sally Hansen Nailgrowth Miracle Nail Polish in Forbidden Fudge.
You guys, my nails look like gold infused dark chocolate. I don't know if this will increase or decrease my chocolate cravings. Probably just make me smile while eating chocolate.
Also, the Nailgrowth Miracle Polish in Divine Wine is still my favorite, but Forbidden Fudge is close. Divine Wine is bloody wine red with gold shimmer like my lipsticks, Forbidden Fudge is dark chocolate brown with gold shimmer like my hair color. Awesome.

So, I've discovered that I prefer wood bristle hairbrushes and boar bristle mixed with plastic or wood bristles, and metal bristle brushes. They all work so much better than regular plastic brushes. Ionic, cermaic, and tourmaline infusions are also awesome. The brand Goody has a couple of gorgeous plastic boar mix bristle ionic and ceramic brushes that are fairly cheap. When I can, I go to Ulta or Whole Foods and go for Olivia Garden brushes and Bass Brushes. And a dear friend mailed me some small Widu wood brushes that are stupidly expensive but seriously amazing.

Dear "Endlessly" by Kiersten White: I know I've been promising to read you since the end of July when you were released, but I got so distracted by other books; I am so sorry. People kept shoving books at me, and I kept finding new shiny books, and and... I know those are bad excuses, but I promise that this time I will read you, because I love you, and I have loved you since "Paranormalcy" and because I have so many other books to read but I swore I would finish you first.
Dear Self and Friends: No more book recommendations, no more new to me books, no more shiny books to adore until I am finished with the one book I promised to finish three months ago.
I'm glad that's out in the open now.

Seriously, though, honestly, I am so fucking thrilled about my discussion with Nurse Mary. She is so very knowledgable and helpful about fibromyalgia, cerebral palsy, and nerve pains. She smiles all the time. She really really wants to help me. She hugs me. She wants to see me every month, and also because she likes me. I like you too, Nurse Mary.
brightrosefox: (Default)
Ahh, having connections in the Hamptons. :-D
My mother's dear friend, Toni, has been one of her art models for years. Toni owns a salon in Montauk town. I spoke with Toni today. She is willing to give me completely free services because she has known me for most of my life and she adores me.
So, later this afternoon, Toni will pick me up, take me to the salon, color and style my hair and give me some other relaxing services for free, and drive me back in time for dinner with Adam.

This evening, Adam and I shall start packing everything we don't need for tomorrow, since Adam's job won't end until Friday afternoon. Mom and Dad will come pick me up and take me to their house. Adam will meet us after his job is done. We will all have a quick dinner, and linger over teary farewells until Thanksgiving. Then, Adam and I will start driving. We will arrive in Gaithersburg after midnight, probably around two in the morning. So, Saturday. My house and cats are fine thanks to Charlotte and her loving care.

All I know is that I have been so beautifully, wonderfully, awesomely relaxed. Yes, I have had chronic pain, fatigue, and various attacks of insert medical condition. But I have been able to push through the symptoms, ignore them just enough to feel as happy as possible, and enjoy everything the Hamptons could offer me during my quick stay.
So, I am quite happy. Because awesome.
brightrosefox: (Default)
You guys. YOU GUYS.
This is so COOL.
We took our own car, by the way, with a coworker driving the big truck.
So, Adam and I stopped at my parents' house in Sag Harbor to say hello and eat dinner. And then we drove the Montauk. We got two niights at an adorable little oceanside resort, but we will only use one because GUESS WHAT? Today and the rest of the week, we get to stay at GURNEY'S. AUGH.
Adam will be working his job there until FRIDAY and the client wants him and the coworker close by. So we are staying at one of the best and most beautiful resort inns on the East Coast.
Vacation. Awesome. Whargarbl. Augh.
So. We have not had a room booked yet. So Adam will work, and my parents will come get me whileI sit in the lobby, and I shall spend the day in Sag Harbor until Adam gets our room and such and it will continue until Friday afternoon and OMG THIS WILL BE SO AWESOME YAY IN CASE YOU CAN'T TELL I AM VERY EXCITED.
I brought a huge pill bottle full of a weeks' worth of drugs and right now my body is rocking the Ultram, Soma, and Klonopin, and I am so ready.
Also I am eating a slice of cold pizza with extra mozzarella, from last night delivered to the hotel room. NEW YORK PIZZA YOUSE GUYS. IT WAS LIKE EATING MAGIC.

brightrosefox: (Default)
Also, I have an Ace bandage wrapped around my left wrist, arm, and hand because OMG PAIN leaving me sobbing wildly. It is mostly likely from repetitive strain injuries, because in the last few days I have been using my left hand more and more in ways it is not used to. Tonight will be a codeine with acetaminophen night.

The alarm has been set for eight and we plan on leaving around nine, so I must be refreshed as must as possible. I will fall asleep in the car anyway. That always happens. In my purse will be my trusty travel pill container and a small bottle of water. And of course there will be rest stops for snacks and restroom breaks.

I am very excited. And for once, I don't have anxiety that could affect my digestive system or any other part of my body. Thank you, Klonopin, Ultram, and Baclofen, which I did not have the last time I accompanied Adam on a long car trip. I think being so calm, relaxed, and in far less pain goes a long, long way. Because wow.
Anyone who wants to label Big Pharma as pure evil can do so, just not to my face right now. I am way too satisfied to make any arguments beyond "These drugs are helping me immensely and I am profoundly grateful. End of discussion." Of course, I will have my necessary supplements of herbs, vitamins, extracts, and compounds. I always do. Balance and harmony in everything.
I am feeling very balanced and harmonious. Yay. Peace out, all.


brightrosefox: (Default)

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