New symptoms, medication side-effects, and a cry on the bathroom tiles. That has been the last few days. Well, weeks in truth. And exhaustion. I can't forget exhaustion, even if I wanted. It's perched on my shoulder weighing me down, be it in bed, or on the couch, or lying on the grass outside.
Shut down. My body. My brain. The world. All of it.
My recalcitrant body is winning at the moment. I'm not sure we're even playing the same game anymore. All the old rules no longer seem to work. So more tests, more symptoms, more tests, more....ad infinitum.
Words don't come. Thoughts jumble, tumble, and fall away.
Pieces fall. And no one picks them up. I'm not sure that they can.
I sat in the garden and let the new Spring sun fall on my face. I looked over at Natasha and Boris, my garden flamingoes. They were faded and battered. Yellowed, pastel pink enamel, looking used and sad.
I focused on the faded colours and couldn't let them go.
Beaks and legs were covered in Glad Wrap and sticky tape.
Two layers of pink enamel and they were alive once more.
It's a small act in the big scheme of things. But it's something. I slept after. I lay down in between coats. But when I look out in the backyard today and glimpse their shiny pink feathers it fans a little spark in my heart. Keeps it alive for another day.
#lookingup flamingo in the evening.
In my tired state I couldn't find a clip to accompany the Ben Lee song, Everything is OK, from his new album Love is the Great Rebellion, but I like it a lot. It's simple and beautiful. There's a central couple of lines that are stuck in my head at the moment.
(Here's a live stream version)
Everything is okay,
even when it's not
even when it's not.