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30 April 2011 @ 12:42 pm
 
Today isn't a good day. I don't feel present or alive in my body. Now that I've experienced a different state of mind for comparison, I'm aware of how absent and dead I've been for the last thirty years, as if what's walking around is just a poor sixth-generation copy of the cells I was born with. This kind of existence is worse than a state of illumination and terror. I'm not going to harm myself--I'm just going to suffer the loathing and, for now, hope. I hope the meds were responsible and not a fever or some rare, unrepeatable alchemy of factors.

I don't have a lot to say today, but I did want to say that I've been getting a lot out of giving to the people in the shelter--on a daily basis I get to surprise people with gifts of food, movies, cold medicine, cigarettes, phone chargers, whatever I've been able to identify that they need. I've been spendy, but just the right amount, I think--I still have money set aside for myself.

One of my current roommates is a weathered woman, a self-identified crack whore with a raw voice, a disintegrating body, and the short-term memory of a gerbil. This morning when I brought her some strawberry milk and M&Ms she was so happy and said how baffling it was to get things without any expectation in return. "Usually I have to perform."

I'm going now to get my other rommmate a blanket--she's breaking out in a rash from the shelter-issued emergency blankets--and something else that I've forgotten and will try to remember between here and the store.

The weather is beautiful today.
 
 
flaming museflaming_muse on April 30th, 2011 10:05 pm (UTC)
Meds can work wonders and bring people back to their full selves; I wish you the absolute best in finding the right ones for you.

You are doing lovely things for the people around you.
Trepkos: Loving Spike and Xander by Suki Bluetrepkos on April 30th, 2011 10:41 pm (UTC)
I'm aware of how absent and dead I've been for the last thirty years,

This is astonishing, considering how very much present and alive the characters in your writing seem. Perhaps you have been living by proxy.
Kasskassrachel on May 1st, 2011 12:29 am (UTC)
Strawberry milk and M&Ms. There's something so poignant about that.

I am so sorry you are seeing the world thru grey-colored glasses today. I've been like that a bit, of late, myself, though not with any understandable reason.

I'm so glad we've been able to help you be kind to your neighbors in the shelter. You rock. I hope tomorrow is a better day.
tabaquitabaqui on May 1st, 2011 02:35 am (UTC)
Isn't it wonderful and sort of terrible how truly tiny things bring so much joy?
I'm glad you get to bring that joy.
*still listening*
Mayhem Parva: Gaeta Dee smile(nicole_annell)raincitygirl on May 1st, 2011 04:58 am (UTC)
One of my current roommates is a weathered woman, a self-identified crack whore with a raw voice, a disintegrating body, and the short-term memory of a gerbil. This morning when I brought her some strawberry milk and M&Ms she was so happy and said how baffling it was to get things without any expectation in return. "Usually I have to perform."

This is awesome. I'm sure these kindnesses mean a great deal to the recipients.
MELODY GLOUCESTER PEGASUSjolielaide on May 1st, 2011 05:13 am (UTC)
I'm sorry today wasn't a good one for you. But how cool that you could get past that and make someone else's day better. You rock.
Hepcat: dean readsnwhepcat on May 1st, 2011 11:57 am (UTC)
Reading about the things you are doing for the people around you is such a beautiful and hopeful thing. Thank you for sharing these experiences with us, and for being this spirit of unexpected kindness to others. It seems to me this ability to see outside yourself when you're in such a tough spot yourself is a sign of health. I hope your grey days grow fewer and you see more and more of the things that amazed you recently.

You are amazing me with your strength and your kindness.
Sylvike: Button Heartfishsanwitt on May 2nd, 2011 05:28 pm (UTC)
Take care of yourself as well, Anna.

::hugs::