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Mar. 27th, 2015 04:10 pm
This old thing
I feel weary, Maybe, as ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bitterlawngnome suggests, I've just been on social media too long and I've run out of things to say or (since that's not really possible) the motivation to say them. During the most stressful phase of monshu's recovery I thought it was chiefly a matter of Not Enough Spoons, but he's almost "back to normal" (whatever that means) these days and yet I still find it an effort to post. Or reach out to someone. Or do anything, really, besides sitting in front of a screen and passively consuming media.
The weather isn't helping. When it snowed Monday, I was actually thrilled. It was a perfect snow--wet, fluffy, and everywhere. Riding in on the bus, I forced myself to look out the window and memorise every detail since I expected it would be eight months or more before I'd have this pleasure again. When I woke up this morning, however, and saw the whiteness covering the ground my reaction was, "Seriously?" It was gone by midday, but my stroll to the bank was still blustery and annoying. Worse, the cold seems to be aggravating my podagra, which began acting up on Wednesday and shows no signs of easing off yet.
Nevertheless, there have been some pleasures this week. Blondie is coming in two weeks and told me he needed to speak with me right away. When I called last night, he confessed that he was hoping to stay only five days "but I knew you wouldn't forgive me if I came to Chicago without seeing you". He's wrong; I'd forgive him. I'd be disappointed, but I'd forgive him. Instead I was touched by his solicitiousness and assured him we'd find plenty of time to get together in the interstices of his conference schedule. Wednesday I had an appointment with a specialist and everything about it went as well as it could've. I may finally have a treatment plan for a problem that's been nagging me for two-and-a-half years already.
Still, I need to do more to move outside of myself. I can feel myself retreating at work again, which is a bad idea when we're in the middle of a major reorganisation. I have a role in redefining what my position here will be like for years to come and, since I don't currently have any plans to move on, it behooves me to take an active one. But most days I can barely bring myself to care.
bitterlawngnome suggests, I've just been on social media too long and I've run out of things to say or (since that's not really possible) the motivation to say them. During the most stressful phase of monshu's recovery I thought it was chiefly a matter of Not Enough Spoons, but he's almost "back to normal" (whatever that means) these days and yet I still find it an effort to post. Or reach out to someone. Or do anything, really, besides sitting in front of a screen and passively consuming media.The weather isn't helping. When it snowed Monday, I was actually thrilled. It was a perfect snow--wet, fluffy, and everywhere. Riding in on the bus, I forced myself to look out the window and memorise every detail since I expected it would be eight months or more before I'd have this pleasure again. When I woke up this morning, however, and saw the whiteness covering the ground my reaction was, "Seriously?" It was gone by midday, but my stroll to the bank was still blustery and annoying. Worse, the cold seems to be aggravating my podagra, which began acting up on Wednesday and shows no signs of easing off yet.
Nevertheless, there have been some pleasures this week. Blondie is coming in two weeks and told me he needed to speak with me right away. When I called last night, he confessed that he was hoping to stay only five days "but I knew you wouldn't forgive me if I came to Chicago without seeing you". He's wrong; I'd forgive him. I'd be disappointed, but I'd forgive him. Instead I was touched by his solicitiousness and assured him we'd find plenty of time to get together in the interstices of his conference schedule. Wednesday I had an appointment with a specialist and everything about it went as well as it could've. I may finally have a treatment plan for a problem that's been nagging me for two-and-a-half years already.
Still, I need to do more to move outside of myself. I can feel myself retreating at work again, which is a bad idea when we're in the middle of a major reorganisation. I have a role in redefining what my position here will be like for years to come and, since I don't currently have any plans to move on, it behooves me to take an active one. But most days I can barely bring myself to care.
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