oof in Each Day

Feeling some hard feelings this evening. This week has been a fucking roller-coaster.
Monday I was late for gym class so I went for a walk along the trail by work. I’d forgotten that there was a “fun run” in the afternoon, so I ended up walking another 5km, to a total of 7km. With all the fitness related crap I have done in the last 6 months, you’d think that a measly 5km wouldn’t be an issue, but I feel like I’ve ruined both my ankles. My right one has a bruise running from under my outer ankle across the top of my foot. My left ankle, the tendon or ligament that runs up your ankle bone to your lower leg hurts so fucking bad. I thought about going to the clinic to get things checked out but M thought I was jumping the gun. I hope I feel better tomorrow.

Tuesday I took off work so Red and I could go get our friend tattoos!! They’re so cute! We went to the same woman who did my Bataleur Eagle and Protea tattoo. Originally I was thinking of getting it on my hand, but then the size and placement just didn’t feel right. I ended up getting mine on my ankle (OMG WHYY), which at that point hadn’t started hurting in earnest. The tattoo feels like nothing now, compared to the pain in my feet. But the tattoos are sweet and perfect.

Today I had an appointment at the Transition Centre, where people go to discuss the process of getting out of the military. There are all these factors (like pensionable time) and policies (like who is entitled to a move) that make the whole thing very confusing. It was less then helpful as a first step, but hopefully I will have a road map ahead and contacts to make once the intake person sends me the info we talked about this afternoon.
I did talk to a woman at VAC and that was also disheartening. Basically help will be limited from them.

Yesterday M talked about building a greenhouse for me out of old windows. So of course my brain has latched onto this idea, and I went to check out a warehouse that was selling off windows, only to chicken out (WHY?). But I realized I was literally parked outside a window place and we need new windows, so I went in and talked to a guy about windows for 45 minutes. Its probably going to cost us 12K to get all the upstairs windows done. M pointed out that we could do the back half and then the front half, and that would be more manageable.

Then tonight at crafting I could feel myself getting to the point of verbal diarrhea, the kind where I can’t shut up and I reveal too much and then I feel foolish and vulnerable and stupid and I ruminate on what I said for days.
But somehow I pulled back. I was able to shut up, and ended up having a totally normal rest of the evening. I still said too much, and I still have no idea what I said, but I was able to mitigate the damage.

I just feel drained. And bummed. And sore as fuck. I’m going to go try to sleep it off.