• mood: tired
• listening: nothing, again, but the sounds of nails on keys

well, I didn't die, again--not that I was any great risk of it, really. my property? that's a bit of another story. we received three months' worth of rain in East Central Indiana over a two-day period. several people did die, from misjudging the depths of floodwater or riding a bicycle into the flood-collapsed roadways or this. in fact, I spent all last week at home playing Palworld while The Country Brat bratted about the house, complaining day after day about the latest school closure. I'd never heard a teenager complain so much about missing school.

but, at least for us, everything is back to normal, save the casualties in my vegetable gardens and the overgrowth of poison ivy in the yard--but those things can be taken care of easily with some diligence and a helping hand. I'm thrilled for the fall to come. I can't help but notice how great the summer was and, as soon as The Country Pat and I started pointing this out, it began biblically tanking. part of me is extremely superstitious that we should never point out when things are good like that, because it all can and will be taken from you at the drop of a hat. I struggle tremendously with magical thinking--but, then again, I struggle a lot with every thinking.

my mental health has been pretty fucking atrocious lately, I'm not going to lie. I don't know how to disrupt it. I'm doing all the things I'm told to, like taking medications and wearing an absolutely disgusting CPAP machine over my face at night and seeing a counselor regularly. for all of my ones of people who read this, please don't take the following statement as some sort of cry for help or call to action that I need a welfare check, but I have really been starting to look my future deep in the eyes and realize that I have been mentally ill from birth and will stay that way until I die. some of my earliest memories were of my intrusive thoughts, and time, drugs, drink, poor life choices, and years of misdiagnosis and mistreatment only worsened all of them. like, I really have just been struggling inside of my head for nearly 35 years, and that is fucking exhausting. then again, it's not farfetched to think I'm about halfway through my life at this point, and I'm so thrilled to have gotten to spend said life with the best people possible that, fuck it, if it means I have to suffer internally, it is what it is.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I understand why mentally ill people in countries with MAID choose MAID as a solution. I don't personally think it's a very good one, and more research needs to be done on preventing people from getting mentally ill like this and treating it properly, but I get it.

this is probably about the time my mom would chime in and tell me to thank God and stop being ungrateful when I have a house, dry, and many in my community do not. well, thank God. it's like I was telling my BFF the other day, what a mess we've had this summer. in between the execution of Corey Ruiz in the streets just a block from my first apartment (and subsequent protests), to the flooding here in East Central Indiana, to Hurricane Lala on Big Island, that's three major hotspots for People I Love experiencing some kind of major social upheaval.

"there it is again, that funny feeling, that funny feeling. I have never related to "the whole world at your fingertips; the ocean at your door" more in my life than I have this week.

then again, I am also a bitch who is easy to please. they've begun to stock my favorite flavors in the stores: apple crisp, pumpkin spice, salted caramel. the spooky decorations are out, next to the school supplies and reminders to get our flu shots (here in Indiana, I suspect, if they advertise the COVID boosters, it's bad for business). I can make chili and soup and The Country Pat is actually happy about it; I'm a "soup is for year-round" and he's a "soup is for colder months," so, y'know, opposites attract. I need to remember to check the almanac* and see when a good time to get the Daikons, spinach, potatoes, and carrots into the ground would be. and then The Country Brat has started at her new school, finally after days of delay from the floods, and she loves it. what more could I ask for?

logically, I understand that I am mentally ill because it so happens that my genetic makeup made me that way, and it's okay not to know beyond that--but I am still someone who finds comfort in mythos. sometimes I think that perhaps God had to even the playing field by making me mentally ill because, otherwise, it would not be fair to make someone who has this much fun in life. (*I just fucking checked and I missed the boat on carrots already. thanks, flood)