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    Blogging? Whazzat?

    Facebook and Twitter, especially, have kind of reduced the digital diaries some of us used to keep to soundbites and memes, even with Facebook’s ability to accommodate longer, blog-like posts. And this isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes… really often even, a meme can say something more succinctly than a dozen blog posts ever could.

    I’ve been horridly inconsistent about posting here for many reasons, including more or less forgetting this exists much of the time. But since I remember, and I have the motivation, here we go.

    I read a lot about Wil Wheaton and how he’s processing the trauma that his minor years caused and in some ways still causes him. How he wants to go back to the kid he was and love him and give him all the validation he never felt. I wish that for him, too. I’m glad he’s let it turn him into the kind person he is now.

    I have a rosier view of my growing up years. I know that there were times I felt alone and unloved and unlovable, but they were always transient, especially from the perspective of now. The overall picture I have is of being loved and supported, however imperfectly. There were expectations I’ve never and probably will never live up to, and those are probably the biggest negatives, but I’ve never had a lasting impression that my parents anything other than loved me and felt that I was worthy of love simply for existing.

    I do have a feeling that if the me I was at various ages could talk to me now, they’d probably have a few things to say, and I’d validate every one of them, because they’re true, for that point. I do have the perspective of the entirety so far, so there are things that are true now that wouldn’t have been then.

    Kindness matters

    I had to remind myself again that humans have a cellular-deep tendency to see every other human as varying levels of NPCs in their stories, and to expect them to act and react like an NPC would, i.e. predictably according to the role assigned to them.

    This is usually expressed as “everyone is the hero of their own story” or something similar.

    But I’ve come to a place in my life where the most important thing is being kind. Being kind, to me at least, means that every other person I meet really is a complete and complex person who has their own experiences and reasons for how they act and react that I will never fully understand, not having had those experiences. It also means realizing that not everyone is navel-gazing enough to know the reasons they have for themselves, so giving them the benefit of the doubt is ALWAYS the best first go-to.

    Being kind to yourself is just as important, and part of that is knowing that some people, whether deliberately or not, are toxic, and keeping yourself away from toxic people is just as important and absolutely necessary as keeping yourself away from physical toxins, because in the end, they affect you the same way.


    I think that week where I met my step goals and adulted all over the place was a week of mania in the bipolar sense. I don’t get those spates often, and they’re usually shorter. Being up up up is as exhausting as being blah, and in some cases makes the blah times seem even blah-er. I often wonder while I’m in those manic states if it’s the way things should be all the time, because I do get more exercise, I do feel better…

    But then, when I’m in what seems normal, where I do enjoy things but don’t have that drive and “whoo!” thing going on even most of the time, it seems more disordered than it does when I’m in the midst. At least as disordered as the times when it’s hard to stand up and walk my 250+ steps each hour because even that amount of effort seems exhausting. Hmmm. Maybe it’s because people around me have seen me in my occasional manic states and seen that as what I could be doing if only I worked at reaching my potential, but maintaining that effort in a normal state seems exhausting, much less in a depressive state. And I’ve internalized that. So seeing that as disordered is so helpful because it’s not what I need to be doing all the time and exhausting myself, it is disordered, and I can take advantage of it while not expecting it to be the baseline. Regardless of whether it is for anyone else.

    La Vie et Belle

    I have had an amazeballs week. I’ve made almost every single goal every day this week. My step goal (upped from 7500 to 8K), my distance goal of 3.25 miles (every day but yesterday I made it over 3½ miles!), my active minutes goal of 15 minutes as well as my weekly goal of 150 minutes. I only missed 1 hour of 12 two days.

    I feel pretty wonderful. Got a new comforter and made the bed after washing and drying the sheets.

    In some ways, I worry a little that I’m in a manic phase. I also wonder if this should be normal for me, but isn’t because of my depression. I have a “morning” routine that doesn’t vary too much but does have some leeway. I feel more centered, more what I’ve wished is like myself… and maybe is.

    Some of it, I’m certain, is just a lifting of a cloud since November. My shoulders had been hurting, and despite physical therapy, which did help a bit, it didn’t ease until one, then another, then another state turned blue on the maps. There’s so many fewer roadblocks in the way of getting the things done that need to happen.

    Which isn’t to say at all that this last year hasn’t been hard. I’ve been hugely, amazingly, even shockingly lucky. But I’ve seen friends and family struggle and hurt through this year. Only a few I know personally have died, but everyone I know has struggled with finances, with loneliness, with guilt, with anger. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but it shows a long road still ahead.


    I could NOT get comfortable when I lay down to sleep, so I got up and faffed around on Facebook and Twitter a bit, and got to the point where I was just going back and forth between the two and not getting any new content, so I went to blogs, and I saw that I haven’t published anything on here in a heck of a minute, so I’m writing something.

    Star Trek: Picard is awesome. I’m sad that Number One was only in a single episode, but so very glad that Patrick Stewart insisted that his dog be a pit bull. And specifically the most rawr-looking, beefiest pit bull that could be found, and a rescue to boot.

    HusBrat continues to be awesomeness personified. Cuddly, silly, convinced I’m out of my mind for loving him.

    Linden and Ronin are the best doggos on the planet and forever will be.

    I’m still playing 7 Days to Die almost 2 years after I bought it. I’ve found a seriously awesome server and community, and that’s a big part of it. The game is also just a good fit for me. Can go looting, questing, building, mining, whatever I feel at any given moment. And killing zombies is cathartic. The server is being wiped tomorrow, so it’s back to level 1, so there will actually be things to do. Yay!

    Cyan does not seem to be working on the printer. Annoying. But I did get the 2020 monthly calendar done on Publisher, so once I get the printer un-FUBAR, I can print that out.

    Time to attempt to sleep again.


    I’m working on my third straight week of meeting nearly all my goals. So far, I’ve missed a few hours here and there of getting the 250 recommended steps (to keep from being too sedentary), my 3.5-mile distance goal once (by .23 miles!), and my 30-minute daily active minutes goal once by 5 minutes, and another time by 1 minute. Though I’ve averaged out above 30 minutes a day because I’ll often get more (up to 54, woo!)

    I didn’t lose any weight this month (so far), but I am feeling better, and my resting heart rate is starting to go back down from creeping up over the winter.

    I’ve also gotten back into tracking our finances more closely. I’d kind of let that slide a wee titch, and it turned around and bit us in the ass pretty hard a time or two. But we’re back on track there, too.

    I’m hoping with fingers crossed that The HusBrat will be working remotely soonish, though he apparently got news today (er, Monday) that puts off the time when he’ll be doing that indefinitely. He’s decidedly not happy about that, and I certainly can’t blame him.

    The biggest thing right now is to maintain consistency. Keep putting one foot in front of the other (literally!) and take what comes next as it comes.


    So the Mongolian Death Plague has departed, at least mostly. By Saturday (Daddy’s 69th birthday, oy), I was pretty much over it… well I was “soooooo over it” the minute I got a tickle in my throat, but most symptoms were gone Saturday for the most part.

    Sunday, I went back to my activity levels. Since then, I’ve hit all my goals, save distance yesterday and 1 hour each of the 250 steps on Monday through yesterday. Got a good day in today, including a couple extra floors and a good walk with a happy Ronin. He gets downright stereotypically excited about walkies. When he sees me change into workout gear and put my headphones on, he starts bouncing and whining. It’s thoroughly adorable. He seems to be slimming down a titch, too. So yay for both of us!

    Mongolian Death Plague

    Since Friday, I have been sick. And when I do sick, I don’t do half-ass. I have no control over it, my immune system goes full tilt Don Quixote at windmills at the damned rhinovirus… or whatever happens to feel like trying to make a home in my upper respiratory tract. It starts with my throat feeling like someone shoved a red-hot steel wool ball down it. One of those used ones that’s all jagged edges.

    Concurrently, my sinuses fill up with crap to the point that it feels like I have half a ton of wet, slimy cotton in my head that I can. not. get rid of, no matter how much I blow into how many tissues or sniff back. Sudafed and Benadryl, in combination, give some relief.

    But, even though I may not actually have much of anything in my bronchial tree, that whole apparatus gets into the act of trying to expel the crud from my sinuses by making with the coughing. Unproductive coughing. Which has the oh-so-not-wonderful effect of making my sinuses feel like they’re going to expel all the ick through the top of my skull, or go out trying.

    Saturday had the bonus of a fever that briefly climbed to 100.3°F until brought down by ibuprofen. It’s squeaked back up around 99 a time or two since. Yesterday, I finally felt good enough to stand long enough to take as close to a boiling hot shower as I could possibly manage.

    And yes, Mom, I’ve been pushing fluids like they’re drying off the face of the earth. Water, tea, broth, even a glass of orange juice or two. If grossness from my sinuses doesn’t bug my eyeballs out of my head, they’ll float away.

    Throughout it all, the dogs have stayed companionably close while not being quite as snuggly as they sometimes are. Good boys.

    By the way, the only time I’ve gotten 250 steps in any given hour or over 2,000 steps in a day during this is completely by accident. And somehow, early this morning, I managed to raise my heart rate for my Fitbit to register 7 active minutes. I think I might have had a seriously hellacious coughing fit… or something.

    I ran out of Benadryl last night, so I’m solely on Sudafed right now. And apparently, my body is saying “oooooh, we got sleep Monday, now we have speed, no Tuesday sleep for dj00!” Since I’ve been up for 23½ hours now and show no signs of stopping.

    I hate being sick.

    So, I’m 42 Now…

    So, I’m back on the wagon a little more firmly now. In the last couple of weeks since I posted, I’ve gotten at least 30 active minutes per day except for a 3 day stint surrounding my birthday (the 19th). Today, I took Ronin for a walk and tuckered him out. We’ll walk the tubby off of both of us! That helped me blow all of my goals (7,500 steps, 10 floors, 3.5 miles, 2,500 calories, 30 minutes) out of the water for today. I feel pretty awesome. I’m also back down to the weight I was in October. Here’s to keeping the trend going down!

    Ronin’s zonked after our walk!





    Also, I’ve been better at being involved with my Lions club. Since I keep up the website, I was tapped to make a page for our first golf ball drop. For info, click here. I also made a flyer to hang up around the area. It’s going to sort of be the kick-off for our District Convention. We sincerely hope it becomes an annual thing.

    As for the title, yes, I turned 42 on the 19th. One of the first things I said after the clock clicked over midnight was “So this is the answer to life, the universe, and everything? I am disappoint.” Cheese, I crack myself up. 😂

    That Damned Wagon

    As I discussed with my therapist yesterday, getting back on the moving more wagon is harder than climbing aboard in the first place. Day two is going well so far. I actually got forty minutes in because my heart rate dropped below the zone before the thirtieth minute was done. So I went out and took a walk around the block.

    My brother and his wife have gone keto, as a lot of others I know have. I know myself well enough that I wouldn’t last five minutes, and if I did go and lost weight, the minute I backed off, I’d gain it all back and then some. So moving more is going to have to be the ticket for me. Slow and steady. I’d rather lose two or three pounds a month and keep it off than lose fifteen a month and pack it all back on.

    But that means I have to keep. my ass. moving.

    Damn it.