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three up, one down
Nov. 25th, 2004 10:52 amSaw the Pixies last night.
\m/
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As of yesterday my mother is out of the hospital. She was in with a bad gall bladder. She likes being laid up about as much as I do, so she was getting pretty restless and cranky. (On the phone to one of my sisters, "Today I gave J__ shit, and gave F__ shit, so I must be feeling better."
She's home now, so that is a Great Big Relief.
You know, signs of age on my own body make me wrinkle my forehead momentarily, shrug and get on with my life.
Signs of aging on my parents... those scare me.
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Had a bunch of beers on Saturday night. (And some vodka shots too, damn your evil supervillan powers,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
caspervonb!) Passed the rest of the week without hating myself for having said something offensive or done anything obnoxious. (Not that I know I didn't say something offensive or do anything obnoxious, but I don't feel like cutting my own head off over it.) So that's a step up.
My moods have actually leveled out remarkably since I weaned myself off the daily crutch. I don't get so many of the "I Can Take Over The World" days, but I also don't get the "Better Off Dead" days either - and the latter were getting a lot more frequent than the former.
I've had low days, but they've been normal "too much on my plate, worried about X, stressed out about Y" days and they respond to normal cheer-up techniques. And I haven't had a major anxiety episode at all.
Having posted that in public I predict I will now have three in a row. Still, it's knowledge, and that's always useful.
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I have been (finally) unpacking the nine boxes of clothes and crap that have been sitting around in the basement since we moved in. And have discovered, that in fact, I have lots of clothes. That don't fit me.
So... either throw out/give away/sell at a loss literally thousands of dollars worth of clothes, and buy thousands of dollars worth of replacement clothes.
Or.
Forceably starve myself for X number of months to get my butt back into what I have.
Christ. I'm turning into a girl.
\m/
As of yesterday my mother is out of the hospital. She was in with a bad gall bladder. She likes being laid up about as much as I do, so she was getting pretty restless and cranky. (On the phone to one of my sisters, "Today I gave J__ shit, and gave F__ shit, so I must be feeling better."
She's home now, so that is a Great Big Relief.
You know, signs of age on my own body make me wrinkle my forehead momentarily, shrug and get on with my life.
Signs of aging on my parents... those scare me.
Had a bunch of beers on Saturday night. (And some vodka shots too, damn your evil supervillan powers,
caspervonb!) Passed the rest of the week without hating myself for having said something offensive or done anything obnoxious. (Not that I know I didn't say something offensive or do anything obnoxious, but I don't feel like cutting my own head off over it.) So that's a step up.My moods have actually leveled out remarkably since I weaned myself off the daily crutch. I don't get so many of the "I Can Take Over The World" days, but I also don't get the "Better Off Dead" days either - and the latter were getting a lot more frequent than the former.
I've had low days, but they've been normal "too much on my plate, worried about X, stressed out about Y" days and they respond to normal cheer-up techniques. And I haven't had a major anxiety episode at all.
Having posted that in public I predict I will now have three in a row. Still, it's knowledge, and that's always useful.
I have been (finally) unpacking the nine boxes of clothes and crap that have been sitting around in the basement since we moved in. And have discovered, that in fact, I have lots of clothes. That don't fit me.
So... either throw out/give away/sell at a loss literally thousands of dollars worth of clothes, and buy thousands of dollars worth of replacement clothes.
Or.
Forceably starve myself for X number of months to get my butt back into what I have.
Christ. I'm turning into a girl.