Monday, September 7, 2015

Pain and Pain(t)

Yesterday I entered four of my paintings in the county fair.  Last year I won two blue ribbons...  I'm hoping for at least one this time. :). Maybe. I've not painted anything lately but the ledges for my living room, but I still want to.  I've suffered a loss of confidence lately due to my classes being moved out of my reach, time wise.  I suppose that I'm an inconvenience, being one of the workers of the world, with non-negotiable working hours.  I suppose I'll continue to teach myself, given that's what I did before I found a studio to work in and a little basic instruction.  Will I ever be welcome back? I don't really know.  I'm not sure that my need for studio hours that fit my own schedule was the problem.

Sometimes I suspect that I just don't fit in, or I'm disliked, or looked down upon.  

But the honest to goodness truth is that there is nothing I can do to alter anyone's warped, unjust, or simply incorrect opinion of me.  I really won't waste time trying, in any case.  I'm better off making myself happy than wasting time making them happy, anyway.  Hey, nobody's ever been devoted to my happiness before, so it might as well have me on the job.  

I've got my health to worry about.  Something is brewing that will likely turn out to be a major health concern, so I'm trying to focus right now on what I can control.  On top of everything else, I'm showing signs of problems with gluten, so it combines all the pain into one indistinguishable whirlwhind that can't be separated into discrete causes.  Saturday night was interesting, lying on my side, unable to move or breathe because it felt like I'd swallowed razor blades, and almost like an appendicitis attack.  It's not usually that bad, but I can count on a dose of it for several rounds every day, in various locations inside my torso.  

Let's put it this way: the pain has been less today, probably because I ate oats for breakfast and then had some grapes.  Wonderful, delicious, bursting with juice, black grapes that were actually on sale.  *sigh*. Delightful.  Not processed at all, and they taste like pure health.

Oddly enough, despite my constant fatigue lately, I haven't really gained any weight, though my stomach is swollen and I haven't been going to the gym. 

I've been zonked.  Maybe it's my health.  Maybe it's due to the failing AC in my house. It's hard to sleep well when you're in an 84° bedroom, and you're not doing hot yoga.  Lol.  Still, I'm managing.  Sometimes the AC works a little while, until it freezes, and sometimes I use fans and a homemade ice air conditioner to fool my brain into thinking the room is comfortable.  I'm sure it has a coolant leak now.  If the leak is fixable, maybe I'll have a few months before I have to spend thousands on a new central unit.  

I did go to the gym last night and got so revved up I couldn't fall asleep for a long time.  I checked my blood pressure about 45 minutes later -- my BP was healthfully low, but my pulse was still at 94.  Probably just a post-workout thing.  I was surprised at the good BP reading, considering that I developed a headache with my first set of exercises. 

I did assisted pull-ups (because of course I'm not strong enough yet to do them with just my dead weight!). I actually didn't lose any ground on them, despite my time off.  I managed 21 pull-ups, with 94 pounds assisted. Then I did 3 with only 88 pounds assisted.  Not impressive at all, but my boyfriend/trainer told me to try the 88 on my first set next time, when I'm not already wiped out.  I'm glad he knows this stuff, and he's willing to help me.  I'd have never been able to do any kind of pull-up, and I wouldn't have anyone to spot me with my puny 40 pound barbells on chest presses, without his help.  

I didn't lose any ground on the isolateral row, but on plate-loaded chest presses and inclined bench presses, I did regress.  And to think... It's just 40 pounds that I'm struggling under.  Lol. I'm kinda pathetic on upper body strength. 

Then we went for a lovely mile walk at midnight in the park, where my former family (I only say that because they don't have much to do with us since the divorce) had their family reunion earlier in the day.  I thought about all the good times we all used to have together, and then suddenly it was just as someone predicted years ago: that they wouldn't be around in my future, and it wouldn't be my choice.  I was pretty sad about it, but what can I do when they don't want me around?  They were the only close family I really knew, and that's that.  

The point of the walk was to reaccustom my injured foot & ankle to distances.  Call it my own physical therapy program -- they're getting painfully stiff and walking is sometimes excruciating.  Self-diagnosis?  I tore my plantar fascia and cracked my cuboid bone.  It's still awful to press down on it and I get terrible arch pain.  But what's the therapy, past the initial time for healing?  Gentle use through exercise and stretching, a bit at a time.  

Then icing my ankle AND foot, which both cramped up and hurt not ten minutes after the walk, after a short ride to Wal-Mart.  Go figure. Maybe that means the walk was the proper thing to do, and the pain is part of recovery, like my rounds of physical therapy for my hips taught me.  Maybe it's time for a Moji roller.  How does a person keep plantar fascia supple, when it wants to tighten and deform her feet? Hmm?

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