I think I am going to have to see a doctor about my back. There is a serious disconnect between the expectations of other people and what my body is able to do without pain. Makes me feel wimpy. :-/
Found: the pattern that I adapted for my bird quilt; I'll adapt it again (the same way) and make another block. I might even make a number of them, since there are still some of the fabrics used in the first quilt. I could make my son another one...but it will never be the same as the one I sewed while he churned in my belly and I dreamt of what he might be like. From now on I am going to document the quilts, sign them indelibly (as opposed to a sewn on label), and keep a much closer eye on them!
Still culling and occasionally upgrading my too-copious stuff. I'm tired of moving possessions that don't actually mean anything to me or that I'm not even sure I like or will ever wear. I have to move by June. No, I have no idea. Seriously. NO idea of where we will be moving to. I cannot make enough money to pay rent without losing my health care and I have to have that health care.
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I'm not sure what the answers are for my feelings about you, either. The wise man that I talked to on Friday told me this: that I second guess myself too much. That a little bit of self critique and second guessing is OK, but once I come to a conclusion or decision, I shouldn't keep second guessing it at every turn. He also says that no matter what other people say, I'm not delusional, that I'm not the fool they all say I am. He's the only one who ever says this.
I don't know.
In a way it doesn't matter, because there are things that I have to do. There's so much to do. I have to gather myself back together and stay the fuck away from her and keep her away from me. I have to be more careful, whatever state I'm in. I can't afford to crumble and I can't afford to be truthful and lying is distasteful...so avoidance will have to be the modus operandi from now on. I'll never respect her again.
But it does matter...because if I close that door, my heart will turn to stone. All of me, stone. I can't say that I'd never, ever be with anyone else, but they'd never get close to that vulnerable part of me. And in truth, no one else ever has and I'm so scared, I feel so fragile.
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Well, I don't know. I guess she meant well...I don't think any of this has been malicious. It's just that I am not robust enough to handle this well at this time. I may look OK, but am still very fragile within, otherwise, why the need to construct a front?
God, I don't know. There was no happy, easy solution to this. The best possible thing I can do at this point is to minimize attention to this subject and to everything in my power to play it down.
It's not OK for me to hurt. I have to hide it away, try to pretend it isn't there...but the thing is, I can't. It has to come out somewhere or it'll ferment and poison me. But...people don't have to know that they're looking at the embodiment of my pain, that they're paying me for it, displaying it on their walls and in their windows. They don't see it, and this is just as well.
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