We did take Greycie Loo's medicines over to a cat refuge for them to use. I'd been to their front gate in April or May, when i was establishing a design for our fence. This time we went through and saw the large area of free roaming cats, some of which who came over to say hi, others that ignored us. Fortunately there's a bit of a process to adopt, including a house visit, so we avoided the risk of coming home with a new friend. The place seemed a little magical, wooded and shaded with mossy banks and creative fencing from gnarled cedar. As we left, a white cat walked with us on the inside of the fence. The cat's coat seemed a bit disheveled and there was a stumble and wobble to the cat's walk. There was just enough of a similarity to remind me of Greycie Loo's last days and bring the grief back up.
I completely ignored the gas gauge, and when we went to do the evening groceries the car was on fumes. We emptied the lawnmower gas into the car tank and made it with out incident to a gas station. Christine was dealing with elephants, but by the time we were home she was much better. I on the other hand was wiped.
I think it was a good idea to get off the SSRI, but i wish the joy would be more of what surprised me. Grief and bumping up against Christine's sharp edges when she's doing her best to cope tires me. We both (and our therapists) think it's better that i am more sensitive to those sharp edges -- partly so Christine can learn to mediate better. Watching her struggle with the elephants though -- she tries so hard -- i don't want to make it harder on both of us. I trust though, that poetry (maybe) and photography will come back to me, so it's better to feel.
A dry spell would be nice. Hearing about the fence gates and from someone up to prepping the ground for the fescue planting would be nice. (I can certainly do it, but i would stretch out the process.) I guess i should go buy lime and other amendments.
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I wasn't expecting the Women in Tech gardening channel to be triggery, but there is a woman with a small farm on the coast in California that posts instagram-ready images of her oh so rose-filtered life (alpacas! deliveries of dahlias to her hospital). I know i'm getting a curated experience, but the perfection is about to drive me bonkers.
Contacted two friends from the 20th century this morning. One has been hit by a truck while walking on a visit to family while her daughter was across the continent with a parent and her partner on a totally different continent. The other was in a car wreck while on a trip to celebrate her anniversary in which her husband was killed. I suppose feeling moved enough to actually write is part of the SSRI removal.