Woke up in a shoddy mood again this morning. Bad, bad cramps, for like month 300 and Steph was snuggled up with me, Dirt had to poop four times in the middle of the night, there was blood everywhere and Cleo decided to be a dick. (She prefers her very specific Momma-Cleo-go-To-work-routine and when it switches, she is displeased, and uses her teeth on items around the house to show it.)
I’m not a bad mood person. I’m a good mood person. Perky, bubbly. Excitable and delighted easily. So the signing ace of regular bad moods says to me how UTTERLY BURNED OUT I am.
Got Dirt on his little walk, came home to Cleo howling, since all her out in the house alone privileges have been revoked, stumbled into Darcy in the kitchen and decided, Fuck it. Today is a drugs day.
I’m here to tell you, with enough Ibprophyn in my system to kill a rat, sometimes drugs are necessary. I have the ibprophyn for the cramps, the Propanerol to drop my cortisol levels to manageable, the Aderal to boost my theoretical ability to focus, the two types of weed to chill me out, the American Spirits to feed my addictions, and the coffee to get me moving.
What does this mean about me?
Absolutely nothing, except that I am human. I am burned out, I am tired and I need some help. Without our regular access to other humans, we tend to crave connection to other things. And going and getting those drugs gave me three different and lovely interactions with humans.
At the Portland Pot shop, the one B used to frequent when she lived here, I got to take beautiful pictures of a Faery tree. Then, when I went inside, I met a tattoo artist names Brooklyn, who tattoos over at Dragonfly Tattoo in Vancouver. He knows all the people I don’t, and he was really kind to me talking about tattoos and how long he’s been in the business, and gave me a discount. Plus the other person in the shop, looked like an adorable queer, had a tiny dog much like Dirt. They laughed and talked with me, and I openly let them know I was a baby to the tattoo business, and he still wanted to look at my art. I felt flattered.
At Fred Myers, where I picked up my prescription drugs, I got to talk to a nice older lady about how she missed being able to give the dogs treats, while she looked at Cleo’s cute, bratty face and cooed at her. Cleo ate it up, and I left her company smiling.
Then, cause I’m gonna be committed to the whole Witch in the Woods Artist Retreat I’m doing this February, I got a full tank of gas at the Arco across the street, and the gas attendant lady talked to me about her Chow. Then, she washed my windows while I was inside picking up the smokes from the nice lady inside with the braids, and we teased the older guy getting a full carton of Marlboro Reds, about needing to check his ID because she asked for mine.
I got to brag about the sweet lady outside to the cashier inside, with the Amy name tag, and she got to brag back about her because that lady was already on her double shift, having worked the graveyard and then stayed on when someone called in sick. I thought of Malia then, my little sister and the way she always picks up the slack for everyone else.
Now, I’m typing this freezing my fingers off in my backyard, watching Dirt bask in the sunshine and Momma Company, feeling filled up by interactions with strangers and the sunshine- and way more ready to tackle the transformation of my studio space.
Amazing, literally amazing, what the kindness of strangers and a hunt for drugs can give to me. Be kind to yourself today. No matter the places you hurt, or the coping skills you’re using. Sometimes those things, lead you to tiny sweet moments with your dogs and the people around you.