Still here!
54 today and though I've got my bruises, I get lots of pleasure out of my 5 senses.
Packed
I’m taking two trips to Oregon this summer. Since at least 2014, I’ve only been brave enough to fly once a year. Paul and I go up together each summer for four nights.
It’s not the flying, it’s the traveling, being out of my environment where I can control the temps and live within the limitations that help me through my very painful situation.
Can you believe it’s been almost a year and a half since starting my estrogen therapy (HRT) and my Ketamine treatments? Those interventions, coupled with having had my bone scan results confirm osteopenia, got me into the gym, a setting I never thought I’d be able to be again because of my pain. Going through that learning curve was rough—so many flare ups (still happens).
The bone scan also gave me that last push against eating disorder echoes that seemed to be very far away at that point, but that shit lays dormant and can poof out spores at any age, any time, and I just knew: I DO NOT want to be a frail old lady ever.
My illness hasn’t improved: in fact, it’s progressed.
My condition, however, has blossomed.
So, I decided, yeah, I’m going to see Dad on my own, a couple nights in the tiny house down the street of his Portland home, right around the corner from my favorite outside of Texas (who knows if I’ll ever get there again…) BBQ joint.
I can’t wait to have some Dad and Eve time, just us, in person (we Zoom for an hour every Saturday; needless to say: not the same). We used to have lots of time together, the two of us, doing what we love: working out, dancing, watching stuff, eating, just being together. That kind of visit gets harder to create with moves and aging and us both being coupled-up, so this is going to be very special.
If you know me in a close way, you know I’m very affectionate. I need lots of it from certain loved ones. Dad and I still hold hands, kiss, say I love you a thousand times an hour.
We can commiserate more about Colbert. Oh yes, I cried all that last week, every bit of what he put online, just the bullshit of it all combined with my parasocial situation.
I love love—getting and giving it—more than anything. I never tire.
I get sad, scared, like I’m going to float off into a spiral of torture.
So I wrap myself around and squeeze Paul. All night, we spoon and hold on tight. We flip over about four times a night. If he seems like he wants to be on his back for a while, he can hear my huff and gives in to my snuggle needs.
When I’m teaching, it’s love that leads.
I never had the ambition to become a university professor. And as soon as I landed my adjunct job at Sacramento City College, that was it: I can do this job forever.
I was right. With each year, as my confidence grew, I was able to let my guard down (what little of one I had up) and be myself. I’m highly trained, experienced, disciplined, organized, and professional. I’m also self-aware, reflective, and push hard to continue growing.
I’m also creative, weird, silly, goofy, not perfect, not trying to be, open, flexible, and real.
For my Comp and Lit course, our final unit was creative non-fiction. Below are a select few of my students’ finals that I have permission to share with you. Please, I’m telling you, take a moment to check these out. As I publish my posts, I plan to share a few from this class and my English 1A until I have no more to share.
These made me cry. The growth I got to witness in these most wonderful humans—you’ll see. Go ahead:
Time to celebrate!
So, you know I love to eat. I hated food for a lot of my life because it had become too complicated, too loaded with pain.
Food and I go way back, but, yeah, since I’ve been healthy and in recovery for many many years now, over time, my love for eating came back strong. That took a lot of training and discipline, too. Much more than I you might think if you haven’t experienced such a disruption. My book documents it if you are wondering and would like to have that kind of literary exposure.
Anyway, time to go eat a birthday extravaganza meal! No luck needed.
…post dinner report! Stuffed! So much fun, and a sundae! (I mostly ate the whipped cream, few bites of ice cream and I let Paul do the rest):
Long Live Sonny Rollins!
And this is also the memorial day for our Sodi. I had some tears and I will have some more, well, here they are. I have you in my heart forever and ever, my little baby kitty. We miss and love you.
Want more of Eve’s writing and Paul Imagine’s drawings? You can get my book: Body in Script, available at many online retailers.
You can find it at my publisher’s bookstore, or other places, like Amazon. Or, chat with me here. If you’re local, come get one from me personally. I would love that! You can also find my book at Time Tested Books and at Flower Fist Market
