Crash

Cake pops!

I totally crashed yesterday. No, not the car. Bix and me are AOK.

I started Friday in prime-ish form—I fed Coco, set out a plate for Umlaut, scooped the litter box, did the dishes, watered the plants, swept, did some mopping, worked! (that design/layout stuff), blogged and even performed acts of hygiene. After all that, it was time to hit the gym.

I got as far as the Y parking lot when a big wave of sad swamped me. Right there – I couldn’t move.

What’d I do? Did I fight off the mood and go elliptical the excrement outta my gloom? Nope. I embraced my bleak state and coddled it. I drove away from the Y, didn’t work out (*gasp!*) and then pulled into St. Fratelli’s wee parking lot. I was channeling The Amazing Bob – when the going gets tough, the tough get pastry!

C'MON, pick up the pace – we're going to bed!

I picked up a teeny tiny sack of Jordan almonds (so I rocked some restraint – yea me! OK, I picked up a coupla cake pops too BUT I haven't devoured those...yet. More YEA me!) and motored home. On climbing into bed, ready to cocoon and read all about Alice, Coco climbed atop my chest. She revved up her purr engine and insisted that we, yeah WE, nap. How could I say no? Coco can be quite persuasive (AKA pushy). Also too, this is more TAB action. He would give me permission to be gentle and kind to myself – NOT something I’m generally inclined toward. I did the same for him. We were a team, don’cha know.

LISTEN to me! I know what's best!

What was this dismal swamp I’d sunk into about? Eh, I’m coming up fast on my next surgery—cataract cutterage . YES, I know! This is a complete nothing burger procedure BUT I’m still nervous. After all, I’m already minus hearing, I can’t have any tragedies with the sight.

Also, TAB's not here to laugh through this with me. That's a straight up black hole in my heart, RIGHT THERE.

I’m coming off a whole bunch ‘o’ intense months too – work, travel and socializing. Fabolicious, yes BUT exhausting. Attempting to keep up, conversationally, is most def the hardest part of all. Yes, we live in a great techological age. With folks who don’t sign or whose lips I just can’t reliably read, there’s the wonky but better than nada, voice recog of Smartphones. Texting too. This is awesomeness BUT I feel embarrassed when I can’t read a friend’s lips. Guilt weighs on me for causing convos to move slower, less smoothly.

Don't you feel better now? Shut yur eyes and breathe deep, dammit!

Realityville? If I see you as infrequently as once a year (or less!) it’d be shocking if I could catch and grok every word you spoke. There’s a learning curve, adjustment time with every single person. Lipreading – it’s, sadly, not magic. I've been deaf for 13 years now – shouldn't I be a total Jedi at this shit by now? I feel terrible that I'm not.

I’ve wondered, with the defunct sound system, am I becoming an introvert? No but I'm slowing up. Being a social bunny takes way more energy now. This comic, by Shazzbaa, totally nails it.

I’ve weathered some storms over these past six months. I've learned a lot and found that, though deaf and tippy, I’m still strong. I ain’t nobody’s frog sammich! Damn it. That and my chums are much more understanding and patient with me than I am with myself. I'm a lucky broad.

I only mention it but, facing the world head on, living life – not merely existing, not coasting through the days, not being on auto-pilot, not giving up – is motherfucking hard, bloody work Also.…scary. The Hole album title, Live Through This, comes to mind.

'scuse me – gotta go hit the gym and hit it hard.