I'm grateful for: a long nap; a good book; a fun and successful trip to the shuk.

I had a hard day. Woke up with the awful cramping, had to get up to go for blood tests. Had to skip breakfast, had to be 'fasting' for blood tests. Moving slow because of so much pain. The lab was closed when we got there. Not because of me moving slow - they closed much earlier than we thought.

We, being the whole family here, drove to the library in Netivot. Havva got a couple of Maeve Binchy books to read. I was in no shape to try and get to the library (many stairs) so I waited in the car and ate my belated breakfast. I had brought a book and was settling in to really enjoy being outside, alone, quiet, reading and eating. I cannot tell you how rare that is for me. Well, I was really just relaxing into it when there was a tap on the window. Eliyahu had come back to 'be with me.' ... I have no idea what John was thinking to let him just wander away like that. Of course he wasn't thinking. He doesn't.

He also clearly didn't consider (or care) that I had said I was really going to enjoy being alone with my book and breakfast and that they should take their time. Of course I couldn't just read and eat with Eliyahu, who was talking to me, and not just talking but asking questions, what I thought of whatever he had just said and so on. I was practically in tears before I pulled myself together again. What is it they say about expectations and resentment? I'd had an expectation of having a little time to enjoy myself. So, yeah, I spent a good chunk of time with a pretty good resentment. Maybe it wasn't anyone's fault. Besides mine, I mean, for imagining I might have that time. It's not as if I don't know exactly what John is. So being angry at him for behaving exactly the way he always does is a waste of time, energy, in a word my life. It is awfully hard not to be, though.

Anyway, when the rest of them came back from the library, we headed off to the shuk. That was fun. Even though I was hurting, I wanted to walk, so I pushed the wheelchair ahead of me, and I actually managed to walk the entire shuk. Almost. And we spent a *lot* of money. It was wonderful. We got the fruit and veg we needed/wanted, most of it, and found many wonderful things as well. I got a new t-shirt and a pair of nada-crocs (knock-offs, which always fit my feet better than the real thing for some reason). We found pajama pants for Zechy, and a new dress and slippers for Simcha. Zechy also got a pair of nada-crocs and so did Havva. We picked up some yummy shabbos treats, and Eliyahu got a plastic sword, and probably plenty of other things I can't remember as well.

By the time we got back to the car I was hamburger. No, really. We had one more stop to make, which was to try and find a vcr repairman who supposedly had a place on Rechov Yerushalayim (Jerusalem Street). Well, we drove up and we drove down, and we stopped and asked for directions (John did!), and we tried to follow the directions, and stopped to ask someone else, and tried to follow his directions. Ended up at a small shopping area, what used to be called a strip mall (do they still?)

There was a place that repairs computers and sewing machines, but not vcr's, but we got more directions, drove down Rechov Yerushalayim again, and asked one more pedestrian for directions (thank goodness everyone in town knows this guy). Low and behold it was right there on the corner in plain sight the whole time. That is to say the house was in plain sight. His sign, which was in Russian, was mostly hidden. There was some Hebrew, at the bottom, where it couldn't be seen from a car no matter how hard we had looked. So we finally found the vcr repair place. And it was closed. *sigh* At least we know where to go, now. :-)

Went back home and, as I was hamburger, got to my room and crawled into bed. And slept. And slept and slept and slept. I woke up needing to go to the bathroom, but fell asleep again before I could go. Oy.

When I woke up finally, the sun was going down. I managed to eat a little something (John made lasagna, yum!)((even if we used store-bought noodles)). Then I managed to sit up, and finally to get up. I changed the bag in my trash, and got to the bathroom finally. I took laundry out of the dryer and moved a load from the washer into the dryer. I started a new load of laundry, found a pillow-case of a king-size pillow we have - I have no idea where it came from - folded the dry laundry, and tried to wash some dishes. There wasn't any hot water, and I had done enough. I came back in here and collapsed.

I was nasty about John and had a bit of a rant. Balta, our big dog, has been scratching her back until she bleeds. Not like pouring blood, but enough it's red and the fur is so thin you can see the red clearly. This has been going on for a while, and for that while I've been asking John at intervals to please find us a vet. It is not a small thing to me. To John, well, we know what John is. It's not hurting him.

Fueled by my anger from earlier, and my frustration at being so fucking incapable of doing things for myself, and a day spent hurting and being a vegetable, or rather chopped meat, instead of being a mom and taking care of the house, I was rather nasty - at Havva - about John. Then John came in and Balta followed him, and I pointed out to him the red on her back. And pointed out that we needed a vet rather urgently (yes, he needed to be told this - again). So what happens? THIS time, he goes off and gets the phone book, and asks for Havva to help (her Hebrew being the best) and lo-and-behold found a vet we can get to and, well, there I was with all this nasty bile from my rant and feeling like shit.

It's not like I said anything that was wrong or unjustified. But I fell bad about speaking that way about her father to Havva. And I just feel awful for saying such things, for the bad feelings inside of me. And I have to wonder - did he hear me ranting and THAT was why this time he was suddenly so obliging? I asked him if he'd heard me ranting and he so innocent said 'what rant?' Which tells me nothing because he could have not heard - he's quite capable of that even though I wasn't really quiet about it. Or he could have heard and been lying. I'll never know.

So I feel icky about the way I behaved, I am not any happier with John, just as frustrated about being crippled and my life and everything, and John is going to work tomorrow which leaves me here to cope with the kids regardless of whether I wake up again with the cramps and the horrible pain and all. I am not feeling very happy, actually I'm feeling rather pouty. I mostly just want someone who is actually a grown up to hug me and tell me everything is all right, and *I'm* all right, despite my bad feelings and my rant, and that I am a good person, and like that. I'm not going to get it, but as least I'm not whining about that fact any more. So - that's progress, I guess?

At least it gives me something to feel a little good about myself for. I need that right now.

You can't know, unless you've been there, how fucking awful it is to lie around not able to do things and hurting. And spending a good portion of your time pissing and complaining about not being able to do things and hurting. Not because I enjoy it, but because I can't just smile and suffer nobly in silence. I wasn't built that wasy and don't think it's particularly morally superior. It's just a way those who don't have to live like this can stay further removed from how bad it sucks to be like this.

The able-bodied don't want to hear it. They think they have to feel guilty or pity or *do* something, and since guilt and pity are ugly emotions and there is nothing they can do, they would rather we just shut up and suffer in silence. It's more comfortable for them. It's like they can't just sympathize and listen like they would to someone who was in an accident or has the 'flu - something they will recover from. When it is chronic pain, or chronic illness, we cease to be human to most people.

Most of my bad feeling is directed at myself because I can't do the things I want to do, or the things I think I *ought* to do (and try and convince any mother who loves her kids that she *oughtn't* to take care of them), and because I complain and gripe and rant and have all these nasty feelings inside. That's irony, right? I have bad feelings about myself because I have bad feelings. Bad feelings being defined as 'feeling bad about myself.' Yuck.

I don't know if there is some perfect acceptance I can achieve in which I won't sometimes hate myself or be really angry at myself for not being able to do things. I do recognize that it is not my fault. I didn't make myself disabled. I do not sit around doing nothing when I could be up and doing things - in fact I have to work not to push myself to do more things than I can do. I am not in pain because there is some treatment or medicine that I am refusing to take. I am doing the best I can. My life really is pretty good overall. Really.

It's just that sometimes, it sucks. Like today.

I'm going to go cheer myself up by reading the Doomsday Book by Connie Willis (that is sarcasm). Well, at least maybe it will take my mind off of my troubles. Since I'm not sleeping anyway.

I think I'll have a harder time not hating John for being exactly who and what he is. Maybe I'm wrong. At least I'm working on it. Which is more than I can say for him.

I'm listening to Bob Marley: Chances Are

:: Yesterdays : Tomorrows ::

~~~Last Five Entries~~~
Hi and goodbye - 2010-10-15
I'll be moving on - 2010-10-10
Gold membership and stuff - 2010-10-10
Decisions, decisions - 2010-10-07
Days to go - 2010-10-06