Being thankful is being sincere to oneself. Be nice. Your heart will be at peace.

I have lists to do.

But before that:

  1. I left my phone at home. Accidentally. However I am thankful that I still can message through Web WhatsApp.
  2. My boss gave me some fruit plant from her hometown. I should be thankful for this too because she is stingy and frugal.
  3. Had mushroom soup and toast bread for breakfast. Never too early for mushroom soup. I think I may want to make beef stew for whatever this week. Lasagna would be nice too. But it’s too much work for this lazy person.
  4. I was stuck in a jam that was 10 minutes moving as much as 5 meters this morning. Then stop. Then an inch. I was lucky to be able to u-turn and got to the office through the back road.
  5. There is makeup on my face today. Just because I feel like it.
  6. My watch is in timeless mode. So I tried to look for DH’s to use. Apparently all 3 (including mine) has departed. I am timeless.
  7. I got Davidoff Cafe Grande Cuvee Rich Aroma trial pack. Actually it was my mom who got it for free. So I am hanging on to every sip of it twice a day. It is the only thing that makes any sense.

Lists help to organize my brain. Sometimes it’s no longer cluttered. But it needs just a little bit of tidy. Nothing’s done in a jiffy. Not for me. I take time. Longer time than others take to do things. Although I’m pretty clean going when I’m in the kitchen so that kind of longer time pays beautiful bonuses when you are clean as you go.

I must tell you that for the past 4 weeks, it has been quite challenging for me. I have been working late for almost that long of duration, leaving on an average of 6.30PM-7.00PM. The constant heat glaring sun and suddenly the raining all day long for many days. The menses. Prickle emotion roller coaster. Sudden pitfall in logic and purview. The falling asleep at odd hours, odd positions – just odd.

And so I have been adapting myself to writing lists again. I don’t know why I refuse to do it, like, why I stopped. But then again I do weird things to myself. Self-obstruct in endless monotonous giddy carousel. Life seems to be more orderly. I get things done. I ask of myself not to be forgetful. I must instill care again. I used to be able to memorize numbers when hearing them once. But I was emotionally hurt and stopped caring. Stopped wanting to allow this big heart open to help people. It was raided and so I no longer can deliver even for myself.

Blog postings have helped me through the years. There were times when I paused. There were times I over vomit all so many times in a day. Days where I chuck myself in a bubble wrap in the corner of the room emotionally that the only way to communicate is flowing it out into the world wide web. Bubble wrap. It’s always fun when playing alone with it. But keeping it to just yourself cuts you away from life. When you share, you might be helping someone else; then you will feel purpose and bring yourself out.

No one can help you, unless you yourself want to.

I am counting blessings today. During a rainy day where pots of mushroom soup and beef stew would be so comforting.

Sensory overload, it says.

I was on some depressing emotional rampage for the past few weeks. Left questions unanswered on forums, that led to thinking if I am crazy. Approached my sister on how to see a psychiatrist in the hospital because I feel that I could be in a depressive period right now. She explained, I took note and went home.

Then I began blasting at DH telling him I was unhappy and everyone else was ignoring me like I’m invisible. One by one. Up to the second day, he tells me that he doesn’t know what I want, because he was responding to me.

(Okay, between now and the man married earlier, he has flexed 90% to attempt absorbing my membrane. He is trying, bending for me; which I appreciate very much.)

I let it cool. Before, I began prodding into forums asking stuffs randomly – I couldn’t put my finger on anything. Not until someone approached me and told me that I had been sucking the bad energy from everyone. My soul was open and doing clean up charity work for other people, who all happened to be in a delirious state of mind, through the weeks. That was why I frazzled, foggy and lost, and bumping conversations in my head full of cloudiness whatevers.

He asked me, “Haven’t you noticed how drained you have been, just carrying yourself around?”

It was true. I had been falling asleep against my will, in a fashion I never was. Knocking out on the workstation before lunch for solid 1 hour sleep. Or keep going in and out of sleep trance for 2 hours in the afternoon. Hmm.

Moving on, I posted on an inquiry again on forums, and the question returned was if I was feeling the hurt emotionally or physically. It took me overnight to think of an answer. And I forgot that I am an empath and INFJ. I was feeling it emotionally, it was affecting me physically.

So I am reminding myself that CANNOT be an open book.

I forgot and became vulnerable. And now I have to be pissed all the time because that’s the only thing that works so far that I can remember.

 

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I must remember this. But alas.

Secret Gardens

I had things to do. But my eyes and fingers were glued scrolling reading stuffs I found online on my phone. Slowly work progressed in between the loading and reading and phone calls and people coming by. But I just lost it today. Lost of interest. Like, WTH am I doing here? Can I quit my job and do something inspiring for me? But if I do, what will pay off the loans and credit cards that I still have? My panties have no second value at all.

Tired of compiling receipts for claims purposes. Tired of checking other people’s claims. Not wanting to deal with people who are pompous enough to take numbers in chunks to show their greatness when the numbers are smaller in real segregation.

Maybe the tiredness is growing in again. Today I know, I am withdrawing. I don’t want to explain to anyone. I don’t want to speak with anyone. Anything else, I message them on the phone. I let my table clutter as I crack into unopened sunflower seeds. I am sick of everything.

Tallulah is unwell. Now, it makes me feel as if it is my negative aura overpowering onto her. It has happened before. She gets sick whenever it I overflow.

My mood has totally gone off somewhere else in the world. Perhaps it is searching for someone in New Orleans to sit with for coffee. Silently it hearts along with the cats that are named after animals and dolls. To tasting Gumbo and Po Boys for the first time. To experience places and spaces where you never thought existed. Find secret gardens to immerse in.

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Some souls are laced in between. This is where I run to put myself in. Invisible but present. Present but observing. Deciding to do so or won’t at all.

Mysterious creature I am. I wonder if my husband knows what sort of craziness he’s stuck with for a long time. It’s like a psychobabble if you poke my brain at all. All seven layers of it. And alas, my children are left without a choice.

Well, good luck to all of them!

Mind Whack

I haven’t been producing good postings. This writer’s block with lack of sleep and annoyance that result bothersome attitude just trying to keep awake. It becomes a mean cycle that brings to being mean. Yes, I agree. I suck too. Meddle in the muddle.

So I have been cooking. Penne carbonaras that bothers my dad because he says penne makes him feel he’s eating air unlike non-straw like other pasta types. Then fried brinjal in chili. Pizzas using base of sliced bread.

What I didn’t was how a lasagna could reveal another degree dimension of me in the kitchen. The lasagna that I was so tired when making it, bridging with giving up and ugly cry + throwing everything to hit everything else in the kitchen. Of course I didn’t do it. Although I visually could see it clearly going in slow motion as my brother quips, “Yeay, lasagna!” I was mentally doing it. You know, throwing all wooden spoons and whisks. It was a very difficult and emotional process for me.

James Arthur’s Say You Won’t Let Go is playing. It makes me feel I’m walking in a dress, denim jacket and cowboy boots walking hand in hand with him in the park entering autumn. It’s so front page of 90’s Teen Magazine. All adverts on Keds, daisies and smiley floral dresses. My imagination is constantly in fall. The mix of tenderness in green, floral remnants and brown. I easily identify with it I suppose. I was born in fall.

It’s still a long way to where my mind brings me to be made into reality, but it’s okay. Time will tell. If not now, then maybe very much later.

Oh by the way, we went out last night and I did hear something drop when we got to the house. I settled in getting things in and making me coffee with aching heel and feet. Then I couldn’t find my phone. It got me grumpy when non of the kids owned up. How hard could it be to put my feet up in the foyer with a mug of hot coffee and cigarettes while playing Rising Super Chef 2? Tell me, how hard? HOW HARD? Life is hard. Times are hard. ((HUGS))

Well, obviously I had to walk around the house to find them too a few times. Like, I’ve asked them and they said no but they’re kids so what do they know. Interrogate them we must! Then made them call the phone – the line was dead, so great – yeay! Walked upstairs and downstairs and inside and out from the kitchen to the yard. Checked the car twice. With aching heel and feet. I couldn’t find it. I even took out garbage from within the car.

“Mom, I think I heard something drop in the car. It could be it you know”.

I went, “Pfffft… I checked the car and it’s not there!” while internally going through an ugly cry. I’m a bad mom. I don’t care. Who cares about my aching feet anyhow?

Then DH said, “I think it did probably fall in the car, hon; just like Adam said.” Pfffft. To both of them.

So I went back to car. Slowly. Like the slowest sci-fi movie you’ve ever watched. Yes, sci-fi. Reached out my hand in the side pocket of the passenger seat in darkness. Cosily it had been sitting there for the longest time. Just playing hide and seek. You know, I don’t like playing that game. Especially not at night. But what does it know, right?

Well of course the screaming died down. No one bothered to ask if I had found it. I guess it was obvious that I had found it because the screaming stopped completely. Right? And who would in their right mind want to try and ask if I did find it, being at risk of being screamed at if I still had not found it. Right?

Oh my I’m so completely whack… Haha.

So, I’ve got some tiny bit of work left before the weekend. Paid some bills and sorted my brain. Woke up late but got here not in time with some excuse of having family matter that I just had to attend to.

For some reason I feel refreshed and need to put a photo of fuchsia roses in this post. Lovely photo. I hope you feel the same way too.

Invigorating.

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The Daily Post Prompts | Imaginary | Distant | Tender | Revelation | Triumph | Puncture | Create | Blossom | Relieved | Meddle | Loop

Borderline

When you are still too sleepy to do anything, it is caught in between whether or not you’re really tired or lazy.

I think I’m at that borderline.  Of not caring to just lock myself up in the storeroom right now, or what…

 

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Yes, I’ve squishy protruding eyeballs from all the yawning and too much or lack off sleep. Dark circles. Dark dark circles.

(I’m soooo…. sleeping through lunch hour).

Sulky code names. Crap.

Today didn’t suck too much. But it was a sulky day.

SIL3 text me. Found out Turd BIL4 has not renewed the car insurance and road tax so his family has been driving the car under my name around. So because of this, BIL4 has been using his parents’ CAR1 these few weeks.

Just yesterday, SIL1 was wondering when she will get back her car.  PIL has borrowed hers but yet to return. They have 2 cars, CAR1 is under my DH’s name, and CAR2 was gifted by BIL1. CAR1 is with BIL4 and CAR2 is at the workshop.

I feel this heartbreak of disappointment. Him, jobless. Wife is expected to fend for the family. MIL should be pressuring him instead of the wife. Making her take random jobs like massaging and controlling how she wants to manage it. Come on. She is SAHM. She just can’t adjust time to fit your whim and fancy. Besides, your son is the man of the house. He is responsible for his family’s livelihood. Why aren’t you asking him to try?

DH and I had just been talking about this the night before. We were going to take it back in July. Just about 1 week after school starts again.

We have been helping SIL4 and her kids. Why is he there taking charity? No sense of shame? No pride to adjust? No… push to evolve instead of playing in the fields 6 hours of the day that brings absolutely no income into the household at all?

I prayed that he be given enough to provide and repay all that he has taken from. But my fear is always that, if it comes, he doesn’t.

Everything is so literal. I’m making no attempt to hide (except my identity).

Observantly, this is the best time for us to take back my car. The one I have been paying for 22 months. I will allow DH take the lead. As he had been the one to let go on my behalf, he will retrieve it back.

I feel a tonne of weight off my chest.

Thank you.

This drifter

Literally, she is dragging her brain in dirt as she lay her fingers onto the keyboard forming words right now. She is so tired. So tired of catching up with that has been given to her. Tired of trying to catch up because she doesn’t seem to finish. She doesn’t know know where is the finish line. Everything is half-way. Everything has a deadline. And there is no finish line.

She reaches for coffee. Silently wishing it is fresh ground coffee instead of sachet, but she doesn’t have a choice. Everyone else drinks chocolate or tea. Too lazy to prep her own hand-drip. But whenever she makes them, there would be people hounding her for some. Then complain the coffee is too bitter. Of course they are, they are how she likes it – don’t complain, it is her coffee. Meh. On some days her thoughts be like, “Go add sugar. It’ll taste better for you (ungrateful bastard),” while other days, she doesn’t care.

Maybe her ground coffee is finished? She can’t decide. Not bothered to move an inch off the seat to check either.

Everything seems to be… undecided for her. Not really undecided, more like a blurry state of making decisions. She is the wood adrift in the sea. Just float somewhere. Somewhere else, not here, but can someone just pick her up to the beach?

She is tired of weighing like, what’s the best thing to do right now, best solution, best sentence to appease, best time to leave, how what when where why. Especially without a car. It broke yesterday morning on her way to work.

Tonight she is expected to manage, get the kids ready, grab something for potluck and get to her in-Laws by 7.00 tonight. It is stressing the heck out of her. She already feels her emotions pushed around in the family messaging group. She chose best not to respond at all. Her silence has a lasting impression on them. Hence why MIL has kept asking why ‘NOBODY’ has been responding. She doesn’t really give a sh*t about it, really. Her mind gets catapult somewhere else each time, but the constant incoming messages will remain to bite her in her ass.

“Whatever,” she mutters under her breath. Puts her thoughts away. She forces her focus on incoming emails, even though what she reads doesn’t make any sense to her at all.

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Well, everything is whatever. And whatever will sort itself soon, by itself.