Archives for March 2006

Mostly it happens when I have PMS, but sometimes there’s a special trigger. This time it’s a combination of laryngitis, rain and several nights with enough sleep.

After sleeping enough I should feel better, but it seems as if my body is in regeneration-mode. This would be great if only I wouldn’t feel somnambulant with a brain made of cotton balls. And the energy of a bowl of jelly-o.

Yesterday I tried a Susanne-reboot. I wore my flylady-bracelet, put on my tennis shoes, put on make-up, and restartet housework. To feel better I ordered books and a purse.

It didn’t work. Well, the tidyness did, a little. I’m feeling weak and low, and I’m bored. Me! I’m never bored! Except when I can’t sing, obviously.

Then I took to heart what my sister is always putting at the end of her e-mails: “The only way to get rid of temptation is to give in to it.” And I ate a whole bag of jelly beans. But somehow I still don’t feel better.

This is the state of mind I’m calling the black hole or the undertow. Sometimes, when I’m feeling like this I’m searching the internet to find out, whether I’m really depressive. Sometimes, when I’m feeling like this, I just have to look at my calendar and see with relief that it’s PMS. Sometimes I go to bed and wait till its over.

This used to be my favorite strategy. Each time, that I started about a hunderd new projects, ran around like crazy, and all this on practically no sleep, I fell into the maelstrom. Sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks, and maybe the whole of 1993 was sucked into this black hole.

Afterwards I reemerge, optimistic, weighing a couple of punds more than before and thinking, this time, I’ve got my life under control, and that I’d never get sucked in again. Ha!

I try to learn, to become older and wiser (okay, older is easy), and I try to lead a life I can keep up in the long run. But it’s not easy for me.

And I still don’t know what to do, when the black hole is sucking me in. Compulsive over-eating doesn’t work, I tried that for years. Things that are fun to do work, but they’re not as much fun then.

Maybe waiting will help after all.

This is what you get, when you’re not sleeping enough, then go out (to a public blog reading) and catch the same cold your son has had: I’ve got laryngitis. Since yesterday I’m not allowed to talk anymore. And my aching throat is hellish.

Yesterday I spent the whole day waiting for my voice to come back. I hate not being able to talk. I’m acting like a pantomime with a note in my pocket that says, “I’m having laryngitis. I’m not supposed to talk.” And then I do it anyway, croaking and hurting. And I can’t work without my voice. I already had to cancel my singing lessons. But this has a good side too.

Since yesterday I haven’t fighted with my son! Because I can’t talk! Okay, he spent a lot of time with his grandmother and his father. But that’s not the only reason.

This is a trick I learned some time ago: When I ask him, for example, if he wants to drink something, he almost always answers, no. When I just put the cup in his hand,
he drinks. Of course, sometimes it doesn’t work. When I try to convince him to wear a kerchief, he’ll thow a tantrum. When I put it in between his other clothes, he tries to put it on himself. (“Look, I can tie a bow all by myself!”) Wraps it ’round his neck two times, almost chokes himself, and is quite surprised, when it falls off.)

It’s obvious: I’m talking too much. (People who know me have told me so for ages.) Sadly ‘though, my other communicative skills are suffering too. Without my voice, I’m not able to play the piano, or to write. I have to force myself. As if all that were connected.

Even ‘though I’m surely talking too much, I’m hoping for my voice to come back. I miss singing.

This is my first self portrait tuesday. I got the idea from Mary Tsao. The theme to this month’s self portrait tuesday is time.

I had a lot of fun, taking pictures every hour starting at breakfast. (I shot one at getting up, but you wouldn’t want to see that.) I did the usual tuesday things like eating, bringing my son to kindergarten and fetching him in the evening with the bike, and one unusual nap in the middle of the day.