For Christmas, I only took up internet shopping a few years ago. Before that I bought everything personally because I *was* so particular. When I bought accessories I would go through every one of the type I wanted in a shop and compare them. I mean every one – I’d take them off the shelves and spread them out. But now, thanks to my body, I can’t do that. But it’s not just my body. I used to want to make people really happy or impressed by the gifts I gave them. Now – I lament- I don’t really care. My Mum was the greatest challenge because she was not a possessions or things person. But finding some earrings she liked would give me great pleasure. My Dad was critical and never happy. My Brother is now a Dad first so… you get the picture. Now, without Mum, I don’t really have anyone to impress. But I have a new game. Dad sets a price for gift spending, and I have to find the best thing for that price. It’s very fun with children’s toys. I refuse to give children things I think they should have rather than what they want. So I ask my Brother and try to fulfill demands. It’s mainly creative craft and time-consuming things for the girls, and it was trains for the boy, but now it’s Lego.
I try to get my shopping done early – necessity and a dodgy as fuck body and fragile mind make this the norm. However I have had a string of Internet disasters, so now I’m going to have to get everything in person. And I’m not happy about it. So much complaining! I’m tired – I’ve had a ENT then a Chest Infection and then something awful happening in my guts that made me have burning aches, the squits and then terrible constipation. I’m currently hoarse of voice and painful and piled of arse. In addition to this I have my menses, which are wonderful. Just great. So I’m a fucking barrel of laughs. However, these are just the icing on my cake. My cake is made of sadness. Not depression. Sadness. I feel bleak. I am lonely, I miss my Mum, I’m worried about my Dad* and I have no energy for myself. I’ve not drawn or made anything and did not feel inspired at all by my calligraphy class. I feel old. I had an alternative bright spot earlier in the week when I stayed with friends. Talking to them made me realise I’m not dead inside, but I am very close. It’s an odd feeling, and I’ve not got to the bottom of it yet. Perhaps it’s just the Holly Jolly arsecrap around me. Perhaps it’s the fakery of it this year, given the time of doom we live in. I dunno.
If I don’t perk up by tomorrow night (when the menses hump should be passed) I’ll take myself to a gallery on Sunday. I’ve been eating properly and treating my piles with respect so it should be OK.
*He’s a grey crumpled heap. His tooth split today and he doesn’t want to talk to any friends or acquaintances, which is not him. And he’s my Dad, so of course I worry. He’s become possessive of me, which makes me sad and re-enforces my loneliness. Eurrrrgh.