Post mother’s day wrap up

We saw the inlaws, which entailed riding in the Jeep down the highways at ungodly speeds to go see them. Little known fact: since my breakdown over ten years ago I cannot tolerate driving on the highway, either myself, or just riding as a passenger. But, it’s the best way to get there, so I suck it up.

It was good to see everyone, as we all have had our shots and were allowed to gather, inside, sans masks. Despite my feeling self conscious about my slight mask-ne, as my skin is thoroughly pissed about wearing masks for 8+ hour days, for over a year now. This was made even worse as my inlaws later would turn to the topic of who in Hollywood and their personal lives, got fat, or got ugly with age, or from drink. Neither myself nor my mate being as skinny as we once were, and, yeah, succumbing to time.

I got misgendered. A LOT. I got called the wrong name. A LOT. I corrected my FIL once when he called me the wrong name repeatedly. Saying I didn’t know who that person was. He quietly responded that I had said I wouldn’t give him a hard time if he called me the wrong name. I told him I was just giving him shit and laughed it off. But he tried to get the name right more, afterwards. And despite being incessantly she’d and her’d, he later called me his step son, son in law. Which while being incredibly awkward, meant he was trying.

So, while being rejuvenating, it was a bit exhausting too.

Yesterday, I got to work in the remodeled building. I had to be up at 5 am to do so, but there you have it. Giving out badges and taking temps of workers coming into the still closed off to the public building. I got to have a small tour of the half finished floors, which to be quite blunt, was a bit intimidating to think about guarding. There’s so much room, and so many nooks and crannies for people to get up to shenanigans in. I was a bit overwhelmed, and scared of the prospect. As I have only been a gallery host in the smaller building, with far more hosts to help cover the floors. I’ve heard we will have less hosts per floor, with more room to cover. It’s a bit, overwhelming. I guess I have until Fall, when it opens, to acclimate to the idea.

Speaking of, when I read about places opening fully up, I can’t but help feel like screaming a bit. I’m not sure if I can go back to the pace of life, to the crush of humanity, overnight like that. I had built up my distress tolerance over a life time. Now, to just snap back into that life. I’m not sure if I can deal with that. I hope things go back, slowly. I know I’m not alone in this. I have an ex coworker friend, who works all from home now. They don’t want anything to do with the outside world. We have all changed, and I don’t think going back to what was, is an option anymore.

Anywho. Up early to meet the plumber for our downstairs neighbor whose place we are watching for him. Now I know why he gave us $20 for picking up his mail. Had I known I would need to get up earlyish on a day off, I may have declined. But, whatever. I’m up.

Breakfast has been had, and a load of laundry started. Today I need to also make a new bracelet for my MIL (the one I made was comically huge, which of course, insulted her) and maybe sew new masks, as if what’s happening in DC is any indicator, things are opening up, but masks are still mandatory for indoor stuff. I have a couple old dress shirts I can cannibalize into masks.

Off to do the things

It’s just another day

It’s mother’s day. The first time I ran away from home to get away from the constant screaming, was a mother’s day.

Long time readers will know about how my mother terrorized me my whole life, how she threw me out at 19, then later, disowned me when she found out I was trans, which really was the best thing for me.

She has chosen to pop back into my life, as of several weeks ago. I want nothing to do with her.

Instead I will spend the afternoon with my mate’s family. As we’ve all had our shots.

I made my MIL a stamped copper cuff bracelet for the occassion. She probably won’t wear it, but I hate being empty handed. Same goes for the copper chainmaille bracelet for my FIL, as his birthingday just passed. Along with greeting cards that were the least awful we could find at the store. Hers has a cat on it, his, a gnome. They have a new puppy we still haven’t met.

Otherwise, lately, I’ve been having a new flavor of panic attacks. I will be filled with intense terror for a minute or two. This simply will not do. And I plan to discuss it with my therapist come Friday. Maybe my PDOC on Tuesday.

I’m really, really, looking forward to rennfaire this year. I hope it happens. As I don’t think the festival can withstand another year being shuttered. Now I know how people feel coming to the museum. I often will have them tell me how great it is to do something so ‘normal’. I’m apparently really looking forward to faire, moreso, I think, than in years past.

I ended up cancelling my remaining PT sessions I had scheduled, after my insurance co sent me a thing for online PT which is fully covered by my insurance. I may or may not sign up online. As I do have all the exercises for my back already. I can just do those. Anyway, I saved myself $100.00 ($50.00 a session) this coming week.

I’ve been having difficulties being a masculine female in a female world. Namely getting paranoid about first the RN I saw at my primary doc, being switched to someone new, and the same thing happening with the PT. Both being females, that then switched to other females. Were they uncomfortable with me? Despite my discussing my husband? Or am I looking too much into it? Unfortunately I will never know.

Because none of my outside of work pants fit me properly without digging into my Kuato, I am wearing my utilakilt today to see the fam. I’m of mixed feelings on this, as it’s obviously a kilt, but being female bodied, it reads as a ‘skirt’. Oh well. I have my godzilla and staypuft marshmallow man T on, and my ghostbuster’s belt buckle. I’m sure I will get some good natured ribbing about my ensemble from my FIL.

This morning we are having pancakes with strawberry compote to break fast. Last night was coconut ginger butternut squash soup. Which was delicious, even if it was vegan. It kept me filled feeling until this morning. I have already lost a couple lbs being on an enhanced vegetable diet, which is exactly what I wanted.

Off to do the things.

I still make comparisons

One of the things that I specifically don’t miss about living as a woman was the constant need to compare myself with other women. She’s thinner than me, her butt is better, her clothing is more trendy, god I wish I had her hair. We all do it at one point of time or another. I suppose my need to constantly compare myself to basically everyone I came in contact with, more than likely was because, I wanted to make sure I was doing it right. That whole womanny thing.

But I find, I still do it. Not as much, but occasionally I will compare myself to others (although I do this for men and other non-binary folx as well, so, maybe I’m just really insecure.) So, that mystery is solved I suppose. Need to work on that, as almost everyone else out there is pretty secure in who they are, right? LOL

Otherwise, woke to not being able to stand much this morning. I think my back, combined with my Kuato in my belly, combined with standing all day yesterday, and menstrual cramps, and going a bit hard on one of my PT exercises last night, combined to make my lower half of my body a mass of pain. So I took a sick day. As self care is important.

What I have done thus far, is: sit on the sofa with my heating pad, and while doing this, making some elvish wire ear tips. Basically they function like a paperclip that goes over your ear. They turned out pretty good considering how I haven’t done wire wrapping since I was in college. I just hope I remember them by the time we go to renn faire this year. I already have an outfit planned. My utilakilt, with a baseball cap, with horns poking through, and my eartips (along with other misc stuffs clipped to my belt) I plan on cosplaying as a incognito fae tying to ‘blend’ with the locals.

Not much else to report. Our weekly groceries came today. Splurge items include: artichoke dip,a quiche, and chocolate covered pretzel bits. Tonight I will be making bison heart chili with some of the peppers we got in our order.

I once read a meme that went on to say how wealthy people splurge on vacations, or expensive luxury items. Whereas poor folk just have things like alcohol and food that they can afford to splurge on. Which as time goes by, I have to agree with. I’m trying to get us to eat healthier, and I’m sure there are those who think that I place too much emphasis on the food I make. But we’re trying really hard to eat clean and unprocessed, where doordash is just a click away. Especially on days we both work. It’s hard sometimes, and sometimes pizza wins out.

Taking care of my self

So as mentioned before, I’m getting rid of shirts that have been ruined from my antiperspirant aka have perma stink. Going slowly through my clothing to find these offenders. Since let me be quite frank, even if you no longer stink, but your clothes do, you still stink. One thing I had overlooked was my binders.

Wheeeyou. I sniffed them all after laundry today and almost fell over. So, I went online and ordered some more.

I mean, technically, I shouldn’t be spending more money. What with my $50 a pop PT sessions, and my surgery coming up. But I look at this as taking care of myself as well. Just like getting an oil change for my car ($75.00) or our weekly grocery box (appx $35-40) I am taking care of myself. Besides, I needed new ones anyway. Some I bought from a gender neutral company, and they were not only expensive, but crap, and started to fall apart within two washes. This time I went straight to walmart dot com and got myself some cheap racer back sportbras (yeah yeah, I get that a binder is a whole tank top type thing, those are expensive, and hot. We’re dealing with realities here) as the ones I got from them last time, still are going strong, were cheap, and despite stinking, have plenty of life left in them. You know, provided they didn’t stink.

But yeah. It’s ok that I’m getting rid of clothing, as it encourages me to wear other clothing I have that hasn’t been worn as much. So not only doesn’t stink, but like, new looks for free!

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m trying to curate my look, and wardrobe plays very heavy in this equation. I will parse down my closet to something a bit more manageable, that truly suits my style right now. And when that changes, which it will, I’ll have less to recycle.

Speaking of, as the clothing is undonateable, I shall harvest the shirt buttons, and maybe some of the fabric to turn into more work masks. Or maybe just turn them all into rags. You can never have enough rags in a maker house.

I have finally found the key to social interactions

Last night went alright for the most part. In that there were no new relatives to meet, who behaved like they were raised by rabid badgers.

Things started out awkward enough, with my mate’s father’s caretaker seeming oddly on edge. May have been the drive, may have been something else. Either way, in order for dinner to be pleasant I felt I needed to soothe her and help keep conversation flowing.

So I did the only thing I knew how, which was, switch on my customer service mode. People who work with the public are familiar with this type of code switching. While the inner me may be full of insecurities and not really want to talk too much for fear of saying something stupid, customer service me is the exact opposite in comparison. I put the SPARK in sparkle.

We spoke primarily about COVID, and how things have changed. Touching a bit on some health issues we all had.

We looked at some pictures of the state parks they hit.

The whole time I was clear eyed, attentive, interested, and responsive. I laughed and cracked jokes when it was appropriate. I listened and asked questions when that was appropriate. I spent a couple hours doing my best impersonation of how people think humans are supposed to be. Witty, affable, conversational, and all that other stuff. And overall it wasn’t too bad. Customer service me to the rescue.

This has been the first time I have put the full force of my many years of customer service background to use like this. Normally I would switch it on if people asked me questions about my work, then shut if off when it was no longer needed.

But, I suppose, since I spend so many hours in customer service mode at work, using a lesser version with my coworkers, we’ll call it CS v. 2.0, I’ve gotten more used to behaving this way in not quite such a patently false way. I’m not necessarily betraying my inner self, more like putting makeup on to hide the acne scars and dark circles before going out on a first date. My CS self is the polished version of me.

So yeah. It wasn’t awful. I wasn’t awful. And that’s alright.

I’m ready this time

Last time we saw my mate’s biodad I was surprised to find out he had a sister, who I had never met before, who was there that night, who refused to even acknowledge my existence. As in, I spoke to her a couple times, she looked at me, then started talking to someone else as if I never said anything. In case you forgot, me and my mate have been together for 23 years.

I’m ready for that this time. Bring it.

I have groomed myself to within an inch of my life (ok was going to do it anyway, but it’s nice to be fresh when potentially awkward situations are presented to you). New hairdo, freshly shorn all over, deoderized, and fresh shirt on. Bam. Bam bam bam.

Dinner has been sorted, as we don’t know when his biodad will get back into town, which makes planning dinner difficult. Leftover sammies. At some point. Ok.

I have figured out that if stressed, by awkwardness, to yell out how I have a Kuato living inside me. Let them deal with that for a while.

Earlier I posted a ‘memory’ on FB from 10 years ago. A socially awkward friend/ ex professor thought to comment how much thinner I appeared there than when I was in his class. Rather than get too butthurt, I just explained that I was worked to death at that point and it was the smallest I’ve been, save for the time in my 20’s when my stomach problems made me get down to 90 lbs. I will not let that make me feel like a phat phuck. I’m attempting to lose weight, and will do moreso, after surgery, when doing anything to my midsection doesn’t cause me sharp shooting pains due to my kuato.

This is my pep talk.

I was not prepared

Yesterday was rough at work. We didn’t have more people than is normal, as we still have limited capacities at the museum, but it certainly felt that way. By my final break, I was officially peopled out for the day.

Today is day one of two days off. I have done nothing more taxing than: sleep in, and drank far too many cups of tea which has left me very peppy.

On deck today is: weekly grooming (including cutting my toenails, as I haven’t been able to get at them since I hurt my back), stuffed cabbage casserole for an early dins, and at some point visiting with my mate’s biological father, as he’s in town.

I’ve been thinking to dye my white hair brilliant unnatural colors. But I see lots of older ladies doing this, so give the idea pause. I know the young visitors they see my white hair and bifocals and think I am older than I am. Conversely, the older visitors see my arm tattoos and bristle at the audacity I have to correct them on their behavior. I am seemingly in a no man’s land. I like to think I curate my ‘look’ very carefully, to reflect what I want. Case in point, the other night I dreamt I was running a burlesque house in an old shack by a river. My main concern? Getting the girls/ guys/ in-betweens outfitted to fit the proper vibe of the place. My mate told me this was the most me, dream I have ever told him about. As he put it: no judgements, just making sure the clientelle has the proper curated experience. So yeah, I try, with my limited abilities, to give out the right impression of myself.

The other day my mate called me a sporto, which bristled with my inner understanding of myself greatly. As in, I didn’t like that comparison, and I may need to make some adjustments.

I am at a middle place with my look currently, having gotten rid of a bunch of clothing because it no longer fit, and getting rid of more because it’s ruined by too much anti-antiperspirant stuck in the armpit fibers. This gives me an opportunity to change my look, as fashions are always changing. True, I am limited to what I can find at the thriftstore, or make myself, but that’s nothing new. Also I have the added question of: will my belly go down once my fibroid is removed? It’s about grapefruit size, so I will preliminarily say yes to this. So I don’t exactly want to buy lots of things that will not fit properly. So again, I am left in limbo.

We have decided that we will attend the renaissance festival this year. Despite my reservations about lots of people, without masks, acting a fool. My mate brought up a good point, in that, this will be a good opportunity to support local craftspeople. I concur. Now, the eternal question of: what costume to wear?

That’s all I got this lazy Sunday. Off to see about tickets, and to request a day off for a concert in October.

Turn on a light in the darkness

So I lasted a a full day without FB on my phone. After going down a rabbit hole regarding my mother as I was growing up, which put me in a very dark place I realized: I need more distractions, not less. Else I ruminate on bad things from my past, or obsess about rando things in my current reality.

I have also come to realize: I more than likely will never be skinny again. Not being defeatist here, but when I was skinny, it was because my stomach was so bad, and so sensitive to EVERYTHING, that I didn’t eat much, because eating meant I would be sick an hour later. I have confirmed this theory in that everyone I know who is over 45, who is what would be considered skinny either: Doesn’t like to cook, can’t cook, or just doesn’t enjoy food all that much. Which I think is a shame, but in the end, not my problem. I like food. I enjoy cooking good food. And enjoy eating it. I don’t live to eat, but a good meal is a fine thing and helps make life enjoyable. Not to say I wont continue to try to be as healthy as possible about it. But I refuse to starve myself so I can be considered ‘conventionally healthy’.

That being said, tonight we’re having Peruvian roast chicken, with Peruvian Farrow, and some broccoli on the side. Last night was Thai style chicken soup, because all we had in the fridge was frozen chicken drummers, which I used to make a stock in the instapot. It turned out fabu.

Otherwise, talking about visitors at work, and how aggravating I find the dialogue sparked by one of the exhibits, is bad for my blood pressure. Otherwise the BP medicine seems to be working as it should, even if there has been no effect on my hummingbird pulse. I have been trying to take readings daily, and my bp is down, you know, provided I’m not riled up.

PT for my back is progressing slowly. Today I got the heating pad while electricity zapped my back. It made my legs feel tired and wobbly afterwards. I didn’t get much done today as a result afterwards.

Thoughts of mother have been assaulting me lately, even with FB to act as a buffer for my mind. I just spent an hour trying to figure out what combination of mental disorders would result in my mother behaving as she does. When people ask about her, I just say she disowned me and how she’s mentally unstable, and leave it at that. They usualy murmer something about being sorry about the disowning, to which I usually reply how it was the best thing to happen to me in regards to her.

There’s lots going on at work that I’m choosing not to discuss, primarily because it’s boring to someone not involved in it. Needless to say, this pandemic was not planned for, and wasn’t expected to last nearly as long as it has. Plans were not made accordingly. And everyone is stressed to the gills. People are calling out daily, which makes sense as even a sniffle is suspect these days, and several of my coworkers have found other jobs that suit them better. I think we’ve gotten past the initial point where people’s mental health had started to dramatically suffer as a result of us being pushed so hard during a goddamn pandemic. At this point we’re all trying to get through it with gritted teeth. But I foresee more people leaving before the light at the end of the tunnel gets to us. It’s going to be a rough few months. I can only hope I make it through it.

Not much else to say really. I suppose I should go and start dinner

I make snap judgements too

I once had someone approach myself and my mate in the grocery store, asking what type of booze would be best to turn a watermelon into a punch cooler, because, they said, we looked like ‘we lived the life.’ whatever the F that’s supposed to mean. I’m assuming because we have tattoos, that at the time were visible, because it was summer, and less clothing.

But I get it. I make snap judgements too based on what someone looks like, what they say, or certain things they do.

Case in point, while waiting for my PT session a woman came in, without a mask. Which is fine, we all forget ourselves sometimes. To which she annoyedly asked the receptionist if she had a mask. Which she didn’t. To which she then, after huffing, went outside and yelled at someone that she needed her mask. OK, fine. Could happen to anyone. We all have bad days.

Then she comes in, and sighing very heavily several times, goes to sit down with her paperwork and clipboard she needs to fill out.

She complains about how there is nowhere for her to fill out her paperwork when the receptionist comes by to drop off more forms to fill out. Then complaining that she was there for therapy, not to fill out paperwork.

I can only imagine what followed, as when I left, AFTER my half hour session, she was still in the reception area, with several people surrounding her, attempting to help her. My soul cries out for mercy on the poor soul who had to deal with her for the actual physical therapy.

My point here is, I pegged her as trouble from the start. When she forgot her mask, and assumed someone would give her one, and my assumptions about her just devolved from there as she continued to behave poorly.

Is this a symptom of getting older? Making judgements about people based on a small subset of information? If so, are these judgements, that come from hard won experience, are they apt? When I had older folks making snap judgements about me, that I was a bad seed, as a teenager and beyond. Were they correct?

Maybe in part.

As while yes, I had problems, that lots of therapy, and time, and medication have taken to finally pull me away from. I WAS a bad kid. I WAS a bad influence on other good kids. True, I was pretty messed up because I had a bad home life. But still. I WAS the bad apple, and those outside myself judged me correctly.

If only. I would say to myself. If only they could see I wasn’t all bad, I would think to myself.

So yeah. While I may not rely on my judgements to inform how I treat people, as I always give people multiple chances to prove me wrong. They may not be so knee jerk as I had thought. Conversely, I will always give people the benefit of the doubt, even if my assumptions are proven right. Because I never want to become one of those hard headed individuals that think bad things of everyone. Even the roughest diamond shines if given the right kind of care and light.

Day one of my restricted social diet

So I still went on FB with my laptop yesterday, but, it wasn’t available for me to just mindlessly consume with my phone during moments of boredom. Which I think is a plus.

I was wildly productive yesterday, without feeling like I was pressured.

I kept coming back to my phone, with full knowledge that my little blue FB icon wasn’t there to click on. But I did it anyway, only to put my phone back down, and go back to doing whatever.

Tomorrow will be the real test, as I normally scroll my social media on my breaks. I may bring my knitting to work on, or a book.

Today my mate works on site. And I have PT first thing this morning, later an appointment for an oil change. When I get home, I think I shall work on my kilt belt as my patterning stamp came in the mail yesterday, and after a successful test on a scrap piece of leather, I think I shall work on my belt in the afternoon before I start dinner for us.

So yeah, between not drinking anymore, and now cutting out most of my social media from my diet, I feel like I am at least trying to be healthy, in both mind and body. I don’t mean this in a smug way, but I do feel better, mentally, just after one day.

Off to get ready for PT.