Earthquakes

I awoke yesterday morning completely mute. I could not even make sound. I was conflicted about going on the big community dog walk, but I decided to go and to take my boogie board. I didn’t really want to deal with people, but I thought it would be smart to see how I cope in advance of going to Vancouver on Tuesday.

It was cool and damp in the early morning, it showered in the night, but the sky was bright and there were patches of lovely warm sunshine as we walked. And I loved walking with Sheba and our friends. It’s such a great, great way to start the day, walking in nature. And then I come home to just relax and read with the fire on, and to have my lunch.

The good news: People were very understanding of my mute state. Still, it is mighty weird to seek out the company of others only to be unable to speak to them. The experience made me wonder why I accepted the invitation to dine at Nancy’s tonight with Kris and Steve. But if anyone is going to be accepting and still want my company, it’s Kris.

The afternoon was uneventful. But gorgeous. It became a warm, wonderful and inspiring day. I read and chilled, but I also had a really lovely long soak in the spa. It’s spectacular to be so warm and cozy when the air is crisp and clear. I had lots of birds visiting because I’m feeding them again, but it’s mostly Stellar Jays and they deter the little songbirds from visiting. They are bullies.

At 4:00, I left with Sheba for Drumbeg Park to enjoy a walkabout together. Drumbeg is close to Nancy’s where I expected to have dinner—but didn’t. I’ll come back to that. When I got to the park, John and Christine arrived just ahead of me, so we and our dogs walked the park together. And I did okay. It was better than grotesque, it was entirely functional. And then I went to Nany’s, realizing that it was the wrong night as I knocked on the door. It’s next week. But I passed with Nancy and thought, things are looking up.

Absolutely THE WORST THING about this fucking mess of a condition is this: there is no constant. What happens when I try to talk changes as my environment changes. I am subject to forces I don’t understand, and those forces vary under different circumstances in my real world my emotions and from my subconscious.

Remember: It’s not just speech. It’s that plus twitches, head bobs, grimaces and different, very physical, seizures. But all these things happen, only when I try to speak—except the seizures.

The perfect analogy is the language of earthquakes. Until seven years ago, I was dormant landscape. Seven years ago, there was I had a 6.5 quake, and my landscape has been having modest tremors ever since. Until last Wednesday, when there was a 5.0 quake. Now I’m back to tremors again, but in a changed neurological landscape.

And the party line: Lack of parental bonding.

It hurts to be one of those monkeys (link).

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When I write these posts of late, they help me prepare for seeing Der. Shoja. My posts help me find the correct language with which to best express my thinking and feeling. 

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Today is likely to be dull all day, and then we’re expecting rain tomorrow. But after that comes a long stretch of sunny (but cool—8°) weather. When I come home from Vancouver, there’ll be splitting to do.

Quilt!