My body is not co-operating. The body: I am alternately overly identified with my physical self and alarmingly detached from the freckles and fat, breast and butt, hair and yellowed teeth, bones and beating heart that allow me to do what humans usually do- experience the world through touch, taste, sound, sight, my feet on the ground, my arms around hers, food in my mouth, the hot car door underneath my cold, hypothryoid stricken fingers. I am exhausted, getting through my normal five day a week workouts has become very hard, my muscles ache, my fingers are swollen, IBS has cropped up again and I am in general just not vibrant with health.
Mr. Curry began gluten free about two weeks ago and I am SO DAMN PROUD OF HIM. After reading Grain Brain, I asked him if he would try it, mainly to see if we could affect the bipolar in a positive way, and he said yes. He's doing it 100% and can feel a positive difference, even though he is having horrible cravings. I am GF with him, although I am 95% and not 100%. I have something with gluten maybe twice a week, like a bagel once and a bowl of cereal another time. For the most part, I feed my family healthy fats and proteins alongside fruits, nuts and vegetables. I am obsessed with KIND bars- I eat one every morning with coffee.
I think that the terror over losing my paying day job ( the little girl I watched moved away ) and being, so far, unable to replace it, is manifesting in my body. Although I do not feel panicked, I feel constant, thrumming anxiety find a job make money find a job make money. I apply to at least one writing job a day, which is all I have time for. The cover letter takes a half hour to an hour to write, crafted for that specific job, then attach resume and links, hit send, never hear a peep from them again. Repeat. I have a number of online resources for writing jobs that I am suited for, which is more than I can say for the last time I attempted this. Meanwhile, I continue writing for pay for two publications, submitting freelance articles and essays and various others- like the grant I applied for a few weeks ago. It's for writers ( or other types of artists, they have four categories, I believe ) with children under age 18 who need financial help. I send the first 25 pages of my novel ( their specific request ) and spent two hours filling out their application, hit send, wait. The publications and acceptances do keep coming in a steady- although not fast paced and exciting- stream, and that is extremely gratifying.
I am insanely in love and enamored with Ever, as is Mr. Curry and really all our other kids, too. She's just a fireball of opinions and cuteness and funny sayings and has a cinnamon dashing of freckles along her nose and cheeks that slay me. I feel incredibly lucky and joyful that I am with her all day and all night, as I was with the other kids…the feeling of luckiness never goes away, even when I'm down, I look at her and am so grateful that I am her mother, and that I can teach her as I see fit in these formative years. She is KILLER polite, and I am proud of that. In public she says 'excuse me' if she's in someone's way, or 'sorry' if she bumps into someone, and before petting any dog does as she was instructed and approaches the adult, saying in her squeak voice: 'Excuse me? Can I pet your dog?' People always gush about her manners and she looks very smug. The smugness of toddlers is so funny.
The other day I said to her, after a mistake ' Oh that's OK honey, it's not your fault. '
And very seriously she replied ' I know mommy. It's your fault. Everything is your fault!'
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