I haven’t been doing very well this week. And last, if I’m honest. And the week before that if you want to know the truth. It’s mostly physical. Summer is not my best season. Winter is. And I guess I can’t do anything about that. It is what it is. When it’s really cold. I mean see your breath, fog rolls in the door when you open it, kind of cold, I live a basically pain-free existence. There are no swollen ankles. There are no achy hands. There are no sticky knees. Ten years ago I would have laughed in your face if you tried to tell me that winter would one day become my favourite season. Who could’ve known?
So I’ve done myself a great disservice by spending a weekend outside in the rain, soaked to my knees in mud. By the time we left the reunion on Sunday my hands were so achy I couldn’t hold a cup. And I would’ve needed to hold a cup and slap back a bunch of drinks to have lasted the rest of the afternoon. I feel like my feet will never be warm again. My legs are stiff and swollen. My hands are still aching and numb. I haven’t been to the gym all week. I have no intention of going (and it appears to be closed anyway, which makes that decision easier). The dampness is right in my bones. It’s in my bones and it hurts. And the constant pain puts me in a foul mood. And the pain exhausts me. And the constant exhaustion frustrates me. And I just want to hide under the covers and weep. But I’m too tired and frustrated to even cry. It all takes too much energy. And I have none. No energy.
This is an arthritis flare. It won’t last forever. And it’s been quite some time since I’ve had one. I consider myself lucky. I used to feel this way more often than not. And that was not good. Most times I manage. Some times I don’t. Right now, I’m not. But I will again. I’ve been through worse for longer. I’ll come out of this too. Maybe all I need is a sea salt soak. Maybe all I need is a pair of wooly socks.
Drinking: red bull
Listening To: smodcast