Thursday, May 24, 2007

Warning! This post contains minimal fibre or Swans content and is all about me. I forgot to take my meds last night again. I have to wonder whether there is some deep psychological reason why I keep metaphorically shooting myself in the foot. And by this I mean to go back to the origin of the phrase, as in intentionally disabling oneself to take oneself out of combat. Am I trying to avoid having to do the normal acts of life by self-harm so I can curl up in bed and moan about how awful I feel? I do feel awful in a vaguely nauseated and a general unwell/painful way. Considering I am never painfree, this is worse. I remember saying outloud last night at weaving class, "Did I take my meds? Yes, I'm sure I did." Therefore I didn't check when I got home and only noticed when I sat down to drink my breakfast. Sidebar: I think I have alienated my weaving teacher by constantly bring things to class to show her which she has now not even shown the class. In our break time she continues to tell us things she has told us 3 times already so there is no doubt she doesn't think my stuff is of interest. This is a well known syndrome of mine by which I either become teacher's pet or viewed as an annoyance. All this weaving class stuff aside, and back to my main point, what is wrong with me that I cannot manage to do a simple thing that is in my very best interest? That I fail to do this task repeatedly, like once a fortnight. I wish I could do something about it, not just on a daily basis (I'd learn to ignore any alarms because I remember the vast majority of times) but after the fact. Is there a magic pill I can take to counteract the wretched feeling I have now? Obviously feeling this wretched is not enough to make me remember forever. Here I am on my day of leave feeling like death warmed over (a favourite phrase of my mother's) when I a m supposed to luxuriating in time to do things I want to do. Serves me right for sleeping wonderfully Tues night/Weds morning. Now I worry about Sunday because I have a 3 hour weaving class in the morning and the Swans match here in the afternoon and Monday I'll be wiped.

There was the minimal Swans content and here is minimal fibre content. In moving stuff back into my bedroom I have found a stash of quilting magazines and books. I intend on offloading them either free or on ebay, so if there are any Aussies who read this blog and do patchwork, and would like back issues of Down Under Quilts or Quilters Newsletter magazine (a title that as a serial librarian gives me the heebie-jeebies (see you hard I try to keep this blog clean?)) please leave a comment (with and email please!) for a list.

1 comment:

rcclive said...

I think part of the problem is that we live with, and expect, constant levels of discomfort. That masks a general progression from discomfort to downright desperation when we don't take our meds. And it's easy to fall into a routine such that I, at least, assume I've done what I need to do at the time I need to do it, even when I haven't. I went through an extended spate of not taking my morning meds when I was having trouble sleeping, and the general malaise of not sleeping masked the effects of not taking my meds. I often feel that I'm balancing on some weird point between bearable and unbearable discomfort, and it doesn't take much to pitch me one way or the other.