I’ve been in pain since mid-December. Sometimes it’s a light, crampy pain. Sometimes it’s a grab-your-belly-and-scream pain. And recording my diet has proved nothing. And we’ve yet to have an answer from tests (not from lack of trying).
It’s not my appendix, since that was taken out in August, though there was nothing wrong with it, because, hey! why keep that?
So now I’m bored. When I’m nervous (and I’m nervous for an upcoming test) I want to spend time to myself to recharge. But I have kids to entertain. And I want to enjoy spending time with them. But I want to curl up and just think and not-think (repeat as necessary). And doodle (like that above of someone knocking out my disturbed gallbladder).
The many resolutions I’ve had have turned into “spend half an hour with your kids without complaining,” “finish the dishes so that no one else needs to do them,” and “post a drawing here every week.” That one is failing. They’re all failing. I had such nice ideas too, and started in December! I was ahead! I had plans! Dreams!
…some of which include actually selling some artwork. In other places! It’s exciting! And actually spending time writing! Because, once upon a time, I DID those things! And I LOVED them.
I’m finding it easier to focus on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs (which, by the way, did you know that sex is one of the base needs? Shocking.) I’m currently stuck on the second level. I’ll get back to the top. Eventually we’ll figure out what is wrong, fix or otherwise take care of it, and I’ll be able to climb back up. But I can’t blame myself for not being able to really take care of the relationships now or being able to fulfill my creative desires. One step at a time.