Adapt or die

Joe, my fantastic boyfriend and person who helps me, is out of town for a little over a week. This leaves me alone and responsible for the household.

Yesterday was a bad day, but it gave me some much needed perspective. If I can't take care of myself and my babies, then I need to call someone to take care of me.

Fuck that, I say! 

No. I may not be able to walk to the grocery, or to cvs to get some hair dye, but I can feed myself, clean myself, take care of my babies and be okay.

It's adapt of die. It's a period of exploring the boundaries of my disability at my own pace.

The pace is disapointingly slow, but I'm getting stuff done. Laundry, dishes, litterboxes, resting, hygiene. It all needs to get done.

So I'm having trouble standing to do dishes. What do I do? I go and get the tall stool from the workshop. I'm having trouble taking the stairs to do laundry. I space out the loads throughout the day. Im having trouble getting hair dye I want? I'll dye it with what I have laying around the house. I get exhausted easily? I take frequent breaks. Fuck you, conversion disorder! Fuck you.

Dyed my hair. No idea what color it will be. I say black or dark purple. We'll see tomorrow! I used a pack of cherry jello, some blue dye that never really took to my hair well, and cocoanut oil. If my hair falls out I'll shave it and pretend it was on purpose.