It is Wednesday, the… erm… somethingth of September.
I have three massive assignments due in the next fortnight.
They aren’t all due until between early and mid October, but, because I am leaving New Zealand for an epic mother/daughter trip from the 1st of October, I need to be realistic and get them in before I go.
There’s a massive international EV event kicking off basically on Friday, so I’ll be up and down the country doing some of my favourite things (talking to other EV geeks and taking pictures and selfies and such).
I currently weigh 64.4kg which means I have plateaued for about two months now. I’ve got a goal of <55kg and know that I could reach it if I exercised even a little bit and stuck to my 5/2 diet better. I won’t say I am failing, nor am I a raging success in this area.
I miss EVERYONE! Seeing people I like at sustainable events for a fleeting moment, or when I drop kids off or pick them up from playdates, or at the mall, cafe or even watching people’s lives happen on my social media feeds. It makes me pine for summer evenings on our deck or over at my friend Rebecca’s house by her pool. Or sitting in the kitchen with Nikki and Andrew at their ridiculously tidy house (Love you and your OCD Nikki darling!). Or going further back into my history, meeting up at Galbraith’s ale house for some cheeky pints with the geek squad… I miss socialising for socialising’s sake, and not being thrown out of my comfort zone and into networking events where I drink too much and drop a C or an F bomb at inappropriate (and frequent) intervals.
The children help put dinner on the table and clean up after at least 5 nights a week. This small and significant change in lifestyle (we used to randomly throw food in their direction, while ferrying them around from pillar to post or plopping them in front of electronics for hours on end while we worked) has netted excellent results. We are also trying to play cards or board games with the kids, but I often fall asleep before 7:30pm (directly after dinner) because my sever anaemia and whatever depressive episode has settled in means I am a total sleep slut and can’t get enough z’s lately.
I’m making plenty of mistakes and hopefully learning from them. Trying not to make the same mistakes over and over, but that’s not always successful as some of my stupid is well and truly entrenched, and it takes a lot of effort to change it.
Marriage is okay. Steve’s a champ when I am down, and I’ve been a mess for months now. Joy returns for moments and then the weight of the world gets heavy again and I get all EMO and shit. Totally boring and I wish there was an off button for the stress and anxiety. Writing it down makes me see in black and white how ridiculous and indulged I am, and is a good kick in the pants to build a bridge and get over myself.
Some people we Love are going through the hardest possible shit I can ever imagine. There’s no manual on what to say. No matter what your spiritual or general belief structure, tragedy, illness and grief defy comprehension when they hit close to home. Sometimes, terrible shit happens and it sucks, and it isn’t fair, and everyone gets their turn to be on the receiving end of life altering tragedy… But I hate it. I fucking PROPER hate it, and I hate that hurt has to play such a huge part in the lives of some beautiful, kind and loving people, while relative comfort and very little struggle can sometimes be the lot for people who are not so kind or helpful while journeying down their life path. It defies all human understanding and it makes me very sad and angry.
I’ll post this without sharing in on social, because it is just a meaningless meandering, more of a journal entry than a blog. I just wanted to feel the rhythmic tapping of the keys as I wrote free form for a while.
Have to go collect the kids now.