Purpose is perplexing
Today has been one of those days. You know the kind, where nothing much gets accomplished except for maybe some reading, maybe catching up on shows, maybe a walk with the dogs. I've gone back on the gluten again. It's mostly experimenting with it. I think it still bothers me a little in some ways or it's possibly how it's made that bothers me. I have had allergy testing and apparently I'm allergic to a great number of things, but wheat doesn't directly appear to be one of them. Fungus, molds, pollen, trees, and dust are the large ones. Feathers are also something that my skin does not take kindly to. It's odd though. I can eat cheese and things or maybe that's what gives me a red flush if I eat too much of it. I don't know any more. It might be a sugar reaction. Bread of any sort does that too me now too. The dogs have been acting weird all day. They stick close by me, often sleeping around me while I read or watch TV, but not doing much of anything. I haven't been hungry either. I went to a small bakery this morning for coffee and a chocolate croissant and a cinnamon roll the size of my head. I I've also been doing a good deal of writing today. Mostly of the online sort. For instance, I haven't written here in a while. I think Amanda Palmer's post about her own blog, going the way of the dodo, kind of inspired me. I need to write more and not give a rat's ass who reads it. Who cares? I do care, but I honestly don't at the same time. When you neglect your craft, whatever that might be, it becomes rusty and out of place or maybe out of practice. I've had so many things happen over the last year or so. I've rediscovered a number of talents that I had let die or set down which I rather enjoyed. I have started picking some of those back up. I've also started cleaning out a great deal of crap in my house. Things I know I've been keeping around that I'd rather sell at this point. Find a good home for or just someone's home that might take care of them better than my nephews and their mother ever would. Spoiled brats. The whole lot. That's more an opinion maybe than truth, but I've done enough for them, given them enough that they don't care about or appreciate that I'm kinda done trying to find some kind of solace or encouragement or connection from them. I had written a story once about a Christmas where I was rich and my family was safe and lived well. My father came to call and he begged to be part of the family again and I told him no, because he abandoned us in our time of need. I told him no. Not my mother, not a father that substituted for him, but me. I said no because the very idea of giving him any warmth or comfort made me angry. He didn't deserve it for the pain and trouble he caused. I still dream of my family being different. Of this "Leave it to Beaver" style household were we all grew up and our kids grow up and everyone still comes together for the holidays. We had a good deal of that as kids. But it always came at the price of my mother's sanity. She faced comments and abuses that she never stood up to for fear she never would be able to take care of us without help. She tried when we were older, but that got her less than nothing. The problem with her attempts were that she always came at them in this passive way. She played a victim because she is one and continues to be one. I finally have a moment to sort out my feelings, to actually feel, to be a completely connected person and explain that I need their help, that I need them to get help. I explain this mostly to my mother and she sounds like she agrees with me, but it's the same rational arguments that I've heard my whole life. The same non-emotional, very rational thoughts about things that happened to her and why I was right and that she would think on these things. I was still very angry at the time. I tried to explain that to her too. I am not so angry any more, but my anger was so much, so expensive, and self-righteous. I love her and my sister and her family. But my friend, who counseled me afterward, remarked that maybe this was for the best. They didn't seem to want my help or my advice and they seem more jealous of me than anything. I did not set out to make a life that my family would be jealous of. I did not set out to make anyone happy but myself. And maybe that's what they are most upset about. Maybe they aren't happy. I know they aren't happy actually. That's not a maybe. They express their unhappiness every time I've had a conversation with them. They are unhappy and they don't know why they are. I knew why I was. I was depressed. I was horribly depressed and unable to understand why I couldn't be happy. What I realized over time, and much therapy was that my happiness was contingent on me and me only. I couldn't prop everyone else up and be happy because I made other people happy for a short time. I had cut myself off from my own emotions. Afraid of them. Afraid of expressing those emotions or feeling them because if I did, they would be used against me. Turns out, even not expressing them was used against me. I bottled them up expecting to get a fine wine and got a lot of vinegar instead. Emotions do not age well at all. And the longer you don't feel them, the worse off they are when you finally get around to feeling them. I still have a delayed reaction sometimes. I still come up on dead spaces where I'm not sure what I'm feeling. I'm still surprised at times by my own anger. Today has been a lot of contemplation and writing. I like it. Except for the part where I have anxiety about what I want for dinner. I desire pizza. A supreme pizza. But I really don't want to eat all that bread. And I don't want to get into the habit of ordering pizza for a quick fix. However. I really don't feel like leaving the house again today. I want to watch more shows, read more of my book and then turn in at a mostly decent hour. Tomorrow I can do the shopping and eat the salads and go for more walks. Bear didn't want to come inside today from our walk. He sat down on the front porch until I talked him into coming inside for a treat. It was the first time I had wished for a screened off porch or a screen door he could have rested in front of or on. I am unsure why the back yard does not hold the same appeal for him. Honestly, the yard is one more thing on my list of things. I could pay someone to do it or just do the work myself. I like yard work, as much as I'm allergic to grass. I've always liked playing in the mud. Getting a good mower is my first order of business I think. I've trusted other people to mow and it's just become this huge hassle. It is one more thing on the list of things to do. But tonight. I will have pizza.