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this site looks best on desktop. follow along as I learn to code; and share a bit of my life with you.
Update 19/03/26
I had a migraine today and had to call out of work. When L got back from Sydney he found me a pair of sunglasses to wear in bed - even with the all the blinds down the room was unbearably light for me and I needed something extra to take the edge off. Once I could finally move around again it was already near dark and we went to the library but I had to keep wearing my sunglasses inside and copped a few stares.
In the early days of my pelvic pain extravaganza L put together the mythical 'Double Double' - an idea I had been musing on since early 2025 after reading Mary Karr's 'The Liars' Club'. Since then, if I'm not working, days in bed are have been more common than not for me and I've lapsed into some kind of somnambulant state - thinking in signs and symbols and the rhythms of my unmoving body, isolating myself, writhing in pain. It's all proper sad.
Conceptually, I don't buy into the whole 'protect your peace' thing (at least in its common-discourse western psychology form) because I think it leans into a broader hyper-individual, therapy-speak, productivity-maxxing culture for which I can't quite articulate my disdain, but can feel the hate for in my stomach. In the material world however, I think I'm finding it hard to locate where caring for myself (mostly recovering from a seemingly never ending stream of physical ailments at present) ends and 'protecting my peace' starts. I worry that 'PMP' has insidiously crept in as some sort of learned helplessness prosthesis - propping up an illusion of rest and care to shroud indefensible acts of comfort. After today it's even harder to tell. I really was in debilitating pain, but at some point I just had to put on the stupid fucking sunglasses and cope...
