June 14, 2018.
So, it’s Day 20 of my choose-my-own-adventure self-help book. I blundered out of the Whole30 corral early, so now I’m just trying to make good eating decisions as I go. That’s going ok so far.
Other things going well:
- I’m tentatively on track with my ambitious writing goals for summer.
- I’m holding down the fort at work and my trainee is almost at the point where SHE can tell ME what to do.
- My spring-cleaning efforts are ongoing due to not being optional because the June 18 professional cleaning date looms.
I’ve had to make some concessions though:
- Canceled appointments for freelancing coaching. It was mentally overwhelming and kind of expensive
- Got serious again about looking for a therapist. I should probably get one. Before things go south again. So far people aren’t taking new patients, only have strange times available, have offices too far away, or just don’t seem to gel with what I need based on how they market themselves on their website.
- Postponed my first two writing dates with former classmates.
And there have been some setbacks:
- Always, every day, living with Donald Trump as president and just wanting to burn everything down several times a day.
- Upsetting con-artist revelations and reliving being manipulated emotionally and financially by a friend.
- Infected spider bite that started tracking toward my heart and creeped me out, and I had to go to urgent care twice and take antibiotics for a whole week and get a tetanus shot.
- MOTHS. Combined with the spider bite, which happened in my bed, my poor housekeeping is really catching up to me. I have black mold too. Basically I just seem to be living in filth.
Some amazing signs of progress:
Although the moths are in some ways a symbol of my long winter(s) of inattention and low motivation, I am impressed with the normalcy with which I assembled tons of supplies and quarters and did seven loads of laundry in one weeknight (clothes, blankets, towels, curtains…).
Now my closet is looking like THIS:
As you can see, things are folded neatly in plastic zipper bags or hanging neatly in garment bags, and there are lavender sachets and little cedar doodads strewn about. The rest of the apartment looks more than ever like a hurricane hit it. Definitely persists as an it’ll-get-worse-before-it-gets-better situation.
And now I must sleep.
Lil is a writer and editor in Seattle. Her writing on comics, books, and life has appeared in Paste Magazine, STACKEDD, Newsarama, Panel Patter, The Wind-Up Books Chronicle, Mining Transport, the only way out is through (TOWOIT), and The Naive Review. She's also started posting some essays more cleanly at Medium, now that she's cluttered up her Wordpress blog with angry bulleted lists, White House briefing transcripts, and so many screenshots of tweets. Twitter is @lilwould.