Mostly ranting, and some lace

Today I realised the value of going back on Ritalin. I haven’t been taking it because I didn’t see the point. I can’t work, and I live in a tiny town so options for befriending folks is low. However, I took one this afternoon and I feel closer to normal than I have in months. Obviously it can’t do anything for the pain and exhaustion, so my brain fog in that aspect is the same, but it’s nice to feel cheerful and somewhat calm again. I’ll stress that some more. My default is cheerful, and it is excellent to feel it again.

Unexpected necessary ranting: The town library is minimally ADA compliant, and attitudes about me elevating my foot vary from indifference to “Ugh, why?!” One of the librarians has cultivated a nicely sour attitude, as a swell icing on the crap cake. She probably thinks she’s being sympathetic or nice when she asks or comments on my injury, but no. She doesn’t talk to me about anything else, so she just sounds like a gossip spouting poorly veiled pity. Boy, that doesn’t sound cynical. Meh.

I’ve come across the “Pain changes you” axiom many times, and thought that I did change. I think it’s only happened for real in the last few weeks, mostly because it’s tough to reconcile my chronic warmth with being hard. I realised I was different the other day when some random woman in the street commented on my boot: “Boy that looks uncomfortable, all hot and sweaty! Ha Ha Ha!” and I felt ashamed and at mad myself for not responding in kind. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” or “Gee, you don’t say,” or even the slightly self-deprecating “Uh huh, aren’t you glad you don’t have to wear one?” I see those intrusive, supposed attempted small talk comments as a type of harassment, except cutting those people down will earn me a dirty look or an Angry Injured Person title, instead of possible physical violence. I refuse to feel sorry anymore for being sick and injured.

I refuse to feel sorry for being sick and injured!!

I found a different pattern for the team colours sock! I’m going to adapt the lace from TinCanKnit’s gothic lace cowl.

I’ve gotten minorly obsessed with gothic lace in the last few days. I want to knit them all. They’re so pretty yet somehow kind of creepy, like if the Addams Family or the Munsters dressed in Sunday Best. That’s the best kind of creepy, though – when it draws me in and then I realise something is just off kilter. Now I need to go find a good horror movie on Netflix for tonight.