Dreamt about a huge brown bear being in the house. I was probably a little less scared than I would be in real life, but this was still a Very Bad Thing and I was trying to open all the doors and coax it towards the outside without attracting its attention too much.
I know I had other dreams, but they’re already faded.
I’ve been so bad at writing here. Or not bad exactly, since I just haven’t been making the effort and I’ve been decent at some of the other good habits I’m trying to cultivate. But I would like to be writing here more. I like to think it keeps me from just blabbering things out loud (annoyances, things I noticed, projects I’m working on, interesting facts I learned recently). Part of it is definitely that I’m lonely and so if I want to give voice to any of those things, the only options are my parents, which makes me feel bad eventually because they’re my parents and it feels like I’m surrendering so much mental privacy and life independence by essentially inviting them into these mundane personal thoughts and details. In the moment, I’m often sharing because I think it’s genuinely interesting, but I know by now that my gauge is calibrated differently than most other people, even my lovely and patient and curious parents. I want to go back to being much more selective about how much I talk to them and what I update them on when I don’t have to.
I’m not eating particularly well. I’m about 1 stone overweight, which is much, much less than I was a year ago, but is ~10lbs more than my recent lowest weight. For the moment, I’m letting it go on my list of good habits. At some point I’ll go back to no desserts, no carbs and hopefully get back to progress on a “normal” BMI. At my current weight, I fit comfortably into quite a lot of clothes, so losing more doesn’t feel so urgent, I guess. I have some pairs of trousers that are still too small and might fit if I lost this extra stone, but I have enough to wear like this. And it was also on my list of things to accomplish before I would allow myself to try drinking alcohol again, but it turns out that it’s not the one that’s going to take the longest time, so that also feels like I have reduced urgency. I’ve got at least another 6 months of s l o w l y divesting myself of a collection of liquor bottles. I get self conscious about dropping them off at the dump, so I have a whole system for how often I can go and how many I can bring at a time and how much other recycling I need to bring to slightly distract from it. I think 6 months might do it, but maybe a full year. Either way, that’s a real sticking point since imagining myself breaking my sobriety with a small drink is something I can sometimes half imagine convincing myself is okay, but imagining myself adding to this fucking backlog of recycling is unacceptable. It’s also the big thing between me and moving. I can’t move with these bottles and once they’re gone, I’ll have the option to seriously consider changing my housing arrangements.
Today is supposed to be for-god’s-sake-stay-inside weather, so probably no walks, which is bad for my step count, but I’ll try to walk around the house a bit. I also have cooking to do and an art project to get started on and some important life admin to deal with. I’m not feeling like being around H at all and I worry that I make him feel like he’s done something wrong. Maybe I’ll explicitly say that I’m feeling a little down or under the weather and need a quiet day.















