Last year’s New Year’s Eve was like riding a roller coaster in shock. Out of a big mess came a cute little burrito. This is the wallpaper on Scott’s phone.
This year’s New Year’s Eve is just plain weird, because the Santa Claus thing and stuff. Every New Year’s Eve has been super weird since about 2003, so I tend to get super weird right back at it. This was last year’s Bluejacky post.
But this was also going on around this time last year.
The year before that was even harder when my sister’s only surviving daughter was hit by a car in a crosswalk and wound up with brain injuries and multiple surgeries to save her leg.
So all in all, having a couple of burritos around this year is actually pretty sweet. Nice change, you know? Keeps me pushing myself for better so I can keep up in ways my own self discipline wasn’t doing.
Since 2010 I have lost 50 pounds and gone from completely homebound and totally disabled both mentally and physically to healthiest I’ve been in my adult life, drastically lowered pain levels, and a very active internet life. This time last year I was wearing dark glasses inside my house *with* all the blinds and shades drawn because the migraines were so bad. This time last year I was barely able to construct complete sentences and form them into paragraphs because my brain was still so glitchy, and it would take me all week to construct a post for my Lexx and survey blogs. A little after this time last year I was in lupus flare up and getting brain scans again and wondering if the dysesthenia I was developing all over my body indicated that my central nervous system was finally caving to autoimmune stressors. My neurologist can tell me nothing except don’t worry about it, stay positive. I’ve seen more doctors this last year than ever, amid more and more food and med reactions going crazy on me. My biggest dread is that my own body will kill me going into cytokine storm. Last resort on all fronts is living continually on allergy meds to keep my body calmed down.
If I’m learning ANYTHING it’s staying cool through my nerves going off. That’s a really hard thing to do. When you have to face that your own anger and fear and worry reactions could literally be the death of you, you kinda go through a big priority change. Let it all roll off. NOTHING is worth getting that worked up about.
So… resolutions. I’ve come so far, what is there left to resolute?
Stop. Buying. Radishes. omg, I have turned into my father. What is up with that??? I keep thinking I’ll eat more salads, but I’m saladed *out*. My chickens have been getting some really nice lettuce this year, Boston butter lettuce, organic red leaf lettuce from the health food store, high dollar prewashed yuppy greens. I have very healthy chickens.
Get my paperwork organized. I’m so snowed under EOBs coming in from all sides that I’ve developed the very bad habit of tossing stuff aside unopened and missed a couple of crucial notices. Time to go buy some file folders and spend a day sorting piles and playing office. Maybe I’ll get really cool file folders with wild colors all over them.
Buy furniture. I’m terminally lazy when it comes to materialistic needs. I can live more spartan by default than a 19 year old in his first apartment. Literally. When I had an apartment I sat on the floor watching tv, the guys I knew had to have lawn chairs in their livingrooms. I’ve always been like this. We’ve had an old dresser from Scott’s gramma (she died when she was 102) falling apart for 3 years and I think I need to go shop for a nice dresser. I will make a project of this and let my tweeps input on pix. For anyone thinking this is a silly thing to put into resolutions, remember that I lost all sense of priorities going through complete disability, and stuff like that loses significance when you can’t put your own socks on. In case anyone wonders why I take so many pix of me in my sox… I can put them on myself now. It’s a big deal.
STAY PUBLIC. I nearly wimped on you guys a few times in the last couple months. If I ever disappear again it’ll be for good, either because my health fails or because the depression wins, and I’m very seriously taking this as far in public as possible because that is what is keeping me sane.
No matter what happens, public or not, the publishing will happen. Unless I die first.