||[Dec. 6th, 2013|08:22 am]
So, the temptation is just to stay in bed all day. The space heater is in the bedroom, the covers are still warm....
But i have offered to give a friend a ride to surgery, and that will put me near one of my landscape documentation places. Then home to do some Quaker Meeting thinking.
I want to whine about last night's install issues -- the person who misread the time and ran at 9 instead of 11, creeping clock, caution in re-running the script that didn't seem to succeed the first time around. I ended up having too-sweet cereal for dinner, and going to bed with a hard cider.
No points for appropriate self care, at all!
The good news is that all of it is collegial and companionable. It's not a misery to do the installs, it just is far too time consuming with little productivity.
I don't know how to write about joy.
Part of it, i think, is that i write to settle, to exorcise, to find the frame. Joy is a frame,* and, once that frame is in place, i am satisfied. What is there to write about? Let me move on to the ache, the itch, the grit rubbing up against my eye.
When i say "Joy is a frame," i know i am indicating that there is a certain amount of volition involved. I also acknowledge that there are barriers for some of us to execute certain frames, no matter how much will we have. Mom suggested on the phone that one could self-hypnotize oneself out of dyslexia, an assertion i had to challenge, despite following a policy of listening for the "ideal" message behind her words. In this case, i hear the ideal message as, "I have this hope that i can fix myself, and i want to hold this hope out to you." (There are tons of other messages, too, that i am now able to sift away, after decades of having them scrape and poke.)
I don't believe one can self-hypnotize to "heal" dyslexia: one can do a great number of things that make it easier to cope in a world that requires lexical skills, but one will always have the cost of additional effort compared to folks whose minds make them well suited to lexical processing. Similarly, if one is traumatized, the effort to frame some moment as joy as opposed to a moment to prepare for more trauma, gather wits and resources, the effort is significant and may be more than a person can manage.
I say joy is a frame because i do have to choose it. I don't think that makes it any less joy from folks who effortlessly frame events as joy, but it is an intention. But it may make it a little harder for me to express.
This long morning in the gloam with cats and my beloved, journaling and chatting: this is the best part of life.
Dyslexia came up because i am again aware of my frequent errors in translating read material to expressed material (what comes out of my mouth isn't what i meant or what i see in front of me), plus an extreme challenge in keeping straight similar names. Dyslexia is certainly not the right "diagnosis," but there's something there. Not much of something, but enough that under all the mental demands of my workday, i can't manage the apparently extra processing i need. I tend to suspect this has something to do with a difference in reading and hearing, and a way of structuring my memory so that the keys i use are not particularly verbal.