Nothing is holding my interest today. Nothing. I’m so frustrated. I try playing piano for a bit. All I can think of is the Star Trek intro. What I end up playing is a solemn, somewhat gloomy improvisation. It seems fitting. Rest in peace Leonard Nimoy. You will be missed.
I pull out a watercolor painting I began last night. A few defining strokes of the watercolor pencils later, no, this isn’t working for me, either. My hands are cold, stiff. I cannot get warm today. An empty corner of the painting needs something. I don’t know what. My muse is distracted.
As I sit here writing, my mind keeps wandering away. My attention (or lack thereof) is bouncing around to this, that, and a thousand other things. Peruse the internet for a bit. My joints are aching, making it hard to sit still today.
Make a cup of hot tea.
Prop up my aching leg for a few minutes. There’s a bursa within the popliteal fossa. I had to look this up as I didn’t know what the area behind the knee is called. Normally, I would just call it the knee pit. I like “knee pit” better, less formal, more recognizable. This is the first time I’ve had one of these swollen masses there. It’s the first time I’ve had one -period- in a long time, more than a year. The rheumatoid arthritis must be flaring up.
I’m too young to feel this old.
I need exercise.
I was supposed to meet with my case manager today, but she rescheduled due to another appointment running longer than expected. That’s fine. I wasn’t much in the mood to talk anyway. I still have no answer for her about what to do about therapy or if I wish to continue at all. She’s not pressing the issue, so my usual passivity and avoidance of the issue could continue indefinitely or until my Safety Net coverage expires. I could say more, but I find myself censoring my thoughts and words tonight regardless of the need to express them.
Desperation locked away behind a mask of apathy.