It’s exciting to see so much of my life coming together in a way I can actually enjoy, instead of feeling like there’s always something missing—which means a thing doesn’t work or I can’t use it. According to what I’m learning, this is something of an ADHD thing; having a thing but not being able to use it, which is a gross simplification so bear with me. I’ve been imagining my adult life since I was a child; sometimes in an abstract way, vaguely dreaming about the days when I’d have power. Not all my imaginings were vague and I didn’t stop imagining when my shoes got bigger. Theoretically because of having undiagnosed ADHD, when I look at my mental timeline of memories, it blips like a heart-monitor—well there was 2 months of depressed, ah that was that bunch of weeks I was heart sick from wondering if I reincarnated to experience the life of a miserable person.
So much of my perspective has cleared up over the past eight months, but it’s really so much longer than that. I was informally diagnosed some years back {no paperwork} and most of 2020 was me stressing with a single question on repeat in my head: am I not going to get what I need to live my best life? Which caused me to reevaluate everything I believed in.
See, I had a steady supply of helper pills {my ADHD medicine} but then money was tight and I ran out. Perhaps things would have been not-so-bad if when we had the means to get me a fresh stash, our doctor had quit his practice for personal reasons and fled to a peaceful village somewhere. That’s what I imagine—he was a wonderful person and medicine is rough on those people. My current doctor is a machine, wants to do everything by the book—and that’s why, at the start of the pandemic back in June, I was masked up in a psychobabbler’s office for to become ‘formally diagnosed’ so doc would give me some fucking medicine. After 3 months and at least 200$, I got a new script. What a pain in the ass, though, my hubster and I miss our old doctor…
Perhaps the reason why I slept through most of the morning is because I can, though my body would have benefited more from working on our path outside. It’s cold out, has been overcast for days and today is kind of sunny which means I’d have to wear my sunglasses, so I’d have to put in my contact lenses and I don’t wanna. My life hasn’t changed that much since the pandemic, other than the casual stress and anxiety; I spend a lot of time at home, I don’t get many visitors, my tasks involve writing and taking care of stuff while my hubster’s at work. This morning I got up at 3:30am and made his lunch, as well as protein shakes for both of us {I just finished mine, at noon, he chugs his before leaving} and last night I planned to go right back to sleep, but at some point between 9pm last night and 4am this morning, I had a new plan.
The two of us have lived in this house together for roughly a decade or so, but he was here long before I showed up—in fact, there have been a few people he’s shared this house with, and everyone has left something behind. We’ve been able to burn a few things, some stuff we’ve been able to make pretty and use, but some things are simply waiting for us to rent a dumpster. A small mountain of items, piled in our very unused basement, is dumpster-bound and that’s sparked my imagination in weird ways:
Omg what if…so this 2ft diameter solid black circle appears on the basement floor, noticed one morning and yelped at ‘is that black mold?’ but there’s no satisfying explanation and in ‘real life’ the Winchester boys are just another pair of white idiots from Kansas. After a few days, it gets darker and darker—we camp out nearby, perhaps there’s something to communicate with? One morning a sunbeam travels across the floor, it doesn’t cast light on the strange circle, instead it vanishes like that piece got swallowed up. As an experiment, we get the broom and sweep litter the kitties kicked out of their boxes; it disappears as if into a deep hole. Either one of us might get dreams to fill in the info gaps. It’s a hole, but not just any hole—anything that goes into it breaks down into the items into pure energy that is sent under the house, into Mumma Earth. It’s amazing.
Dumpsters are awesome to think of, getting rid of unwanted stuff—that old sofa the boys had in their man-cave, empty paint cans, those metal bedframes that literally only raise the bed off the floor several inches, left over construction stuff—but where does it go? To sit somewhere, out of sight, so it’s not our problem anymore. This is sad and frustrating whenever it comes up because I wonder about all the people who don’t make that connection; who haven’t realized that if we remain unchecked, humanity will drown itself in it’s own waste. That’s us, burying ourselves in trash that we make ‘for profit’ because no one taught most of us that ‘progress’ doesn’t have one definition and developing land is supposed to stop at a certain point. Take what you need for to build a place for us to co-exist; whose idea was it to conquer everything? Some of us come in peace and others don’t, I guess?
I began this rant complaining about how I slept for most of today, so far. One of the things left behind by The Others {lolz} is 2ft tall shelf thing that I’m like “totally could use that between desk and wall, which would give it a better purpose than what it’s got” but totally have to strip it and repaint. I dig around in the basement after spousums leaves at 5am and haul the thing upstairs. I activate season 3 of Supernatural and get to work with my pocket knife to strip the black plastic off this thing—this takes a little while. Next I find some paint I can use—most of my craft paint is used up and anyway an item this big is a bit much for craft paint—there’s the yellow eggshell we used on the kitchen walls, that will work. There’s no fucking way I’m putting that thing in here as is.
