Bottle Brush Dryer

Callistemon (Bottle Brush) tree Callistemon is a lovely word to say out loud – try it! Now with a French accent – fun!
(or listen here)

Hey y’all. What is going on?

I mean other than sedition, treason, covid-19, quarantine, double masks, shit tons of laundry, homeschool but maybe hybrid but maybe in-school but no hybrid but virtual-hybrid but hybrid but WTF, constant food planning/purchase/monitor/prepare/eat/cleanup/repeat, unfortunate alcohol preventing liver, oh yes, and fruit flies. I mean, other than that. But, c’mon, at least you don’t have diapers or multiples to deal with (all of the f’s to the yous)!

Today a tell of mine cropped up again. It is a bonus oddity which happens due to trauma (childhood to adulthood), which I suppose has been let out of it’s dark hiding spot as a result of current family issues (insert rote boring details).

One of my tells is deep cleaning random things. I spent an hour dismantling and cleaning my washer and dryer earlier, eventually enlisting tools such as an old toothbrush and the skinny bottle brush from the kitchen. Meanwhile, my office, formerly known as the princess room (that’s a whole other shitstorm of a story), and SonHerisme’s work space include massively insane piles of randomness such as: used paper airplane mound, folded and ironed items under donation consideration, mask cloth scraps-in-a-basket, thank-you notes-a-waiting-for-a-writing, lego/lego/lego, rocks (he IS 12), sheet music just having missed the music stand or shelf, and everyone’s favorite pile – books which may or may not have been or will be read! Also, my Christmas stuff is still up.

Everything will be okay, until it isn’t and then SERPENTINE and PIVOT! At least it was a deep clean tell this time and not mid-self-cut of my hair. Or that elusive complete breakdown. *sigh*

Currently resonating in my personal life:

Eventually, reaching out becomes exhausting and redundant. You can predict what friends and family (and even your therapist) are going to tell you. “I’m so sorry!” “You are stronger than you know.” “Try something to distract yourself!” “It’s going to be okay.” But, it’s not. And when their support doesn’t make you feel better, you add guilt to the mix. So the next time you’re struggling (which they don’t understand will always be constant), you suffer alone. Because carrying your hopelessness is easier than carrying their helplessness and you’re already barely hanging on. That’s survival. –Grace Durbin

My silence means I am tired of fighting and now there is nothing left to fight for. My silence means I am tired of explaining my feelings to you, but now I don’t have the energy to explain them anymore. My silence means I have adapted to the changes in my life and I don’t want to complain. My silence means I am on a self healing process and I am trying to forget everything I ever wanted from you. My silence means I am just trying to move on gracefully with all my dignity. –Aarti Khurana

Happy Sunday Funday, Funny Bunny! Happy face at all costs! Go ‘Merica! (this is of the sarcasms. JOY! – StarFire)

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps. I am grateful for the blessings in my life (repeats with popcorn dancing)