Dammit

Another night where I couldn't sleep.

There was a bunch of objectively good stuff in the day: I got the yard snowblowed, I had a good two-hour talk with the landrace gardening crew, I brought back a ton of grain and got it parked well. I'd expect to be happy or at least content. I didn't manage that at all.

I'm still super labile and my mind is not right. This is a couple days now; napping yesterday seemed to help some but I can't do that with work tomorrow.

I'm going to try eating and maybe that will help.

I tried reaching out to the gyne unsuccessfully on Wed or Thurs, I'm going to do so again tomorrow.

I'm getting scared.

My mind is in a bad way.

The voice that says I should never have trusted a medical professional to do any sort of follow-up care, and I never should have had the temerity to believe the system could ever help me feel better, is loud. I can't tell whether it's truth or where it's coming from.

Miracle signs

Here are the miracle-signs you want,
that you cry through the night
and get up at dawn asking,

that in the absence of what you ask for,
your day gets dark, your neck thin
as a spindle, that what you give away
is all you own, that you sacrifice belongings,
sleep, health, your head,

that you often sit down in a fire like aloeswood
and often go out to meet a blade
like a battered helmet.

When acts of helplessness become habitual,
those are the signs.

Excuse my wandering.
How can one be orderly with this?

It is like counting leaves in a garden,
along with the song-notes of partridges
and crows. Sometimes organization
and computation become absurd.

Rumi

( It's just rough, putting it out there instead of keeping it in, to see if that helps )