My life, unembellished

My day starts when most other people have been at work or school for several hours. The first thing I do is take my pills. If I don't take my pills right away, I don't get up, and if I don't get up, I end up playing Facebook games on my phone (without getting out of bed) for another hour or two (I have no concept of time.) I put off getting up because I often feel terrible when I wake, and I need the time just for the headache or nausea or body aches to ebb enough to make leaving my bed seem like a real option.

Okay, so I'm up, and I'm naked. Unless it's really, really cold, I do not sleep in pyjamas. There are two reasons for this: 1. I overheat and feel confined wearing clothes in bed, and 2. Being naked when I get up forces me to put actual clothes on before I leave my room. This is one of the many ways I have to outsmart myself, trick myself into not spending the entire day in bed.

I dress myself, and, if I'm feeling particularly industrious, I put on make-up. Brush my hair and my teeth, put on my jewellery: the hand-made Kenaz pendant I made in honour of my dedication to Loki, and my silver chain with a sterling raven and an orb cage that holds a "star" garnet. Earrings, if I think of them.

I go downstairs and I eat one of my typically two meals per day. I have to be careful what I eat, because if I eat something that gives me a reaction (IBS or allergic), it will potentially delay leaving the house by another hour or so. It is, however, essential that I eat, because I am hypoglycemic, and I usually don't have enough money to get coffee and food.

Finally, I put on my headphones. I queue up my favourite playlist on my phone, and head out the door. The music is absolutely, positively essential. It distracts me from the aches and pains and weird flutters in my chest and bright sun and loud traffic sounds that would otherwise trigger anxiety. I do enjoy walking, with the music in the background. It energises me and helps me feel more like "me." It is at this point that I am finally fully awake.

I walk for about a mile, either to Travonna or to the bus stop to get to another coffee house nearer to my friend Isa's house in Clintonville. Upon getting to the coffee house, I order a drink, have a cigarette, open my lapotp and start to do... whatever it is I was going to do that day. Today, for instance, it's writing in this journal. Sometimes, it is working on a graphic project for a friend. Sometimes, it's writing a story. Sometimes, it's just playing games and socialising. Arguably, I could do these things at home, but then I would never have left the house, and I would lose any semblance of routine that I have. This is also the time that I use for artwork, if I am particularly inspired.

After a few hours, my husband gets off work and picks me up. We go home. One of us makes dinner. We talk about our days together, we catch up on stuff we've recorded on the DVR. We cuddle, even if one or both of us is online doing other stuff, we're still sharing time together. At about 11:00, Matt goes upstairs to bed. Sometimes I join him, and we have sex, but even then, he goes to bed far earlier than I do.

Then the TV is shut off, and I go upstairs. This is the time I reserve for me, myself and my gods. This is when I meditate or perform rituals, kneeling or sitting by my altar, opening myself to Their influence. I don't do it every night. I can't do it every night, but I should do it more.

After meditation, if any, I indulge in playing Facebook games again, catching up on Words With Friends and DrawSomething, until I feel sleepy enough to shut down. I take a shower, shave, dry my hair, brush my teeth, tidy my room, and lie down. I set my alarm and put on my "thunderstorm" or "campfire" sound effects.I try to sleep. It usually takes me at least an hour or so. By then, it's typcially about 3 a.m., sometimes even later.

And there are strange dreams, and nightmares, and sometimes I write them down and sometimes I don't. It all starts again the next day, at 11:00 a.m., when everyone else is eating lunch.

Weekends throw me for a loop. I love that I can spend time with my husband, and that we can do things together, but it screws up my routine. Anything that screws with my routine, loose that it is, makes me anxious. This vexes me, because I don't want to be an obsessive-compulsive wet blanket who is incapable of doing thing spontaneously. It seems like the older I get, the less comfortable I am with spontaneity, and that really bugs me. It doesn't even feel like that should be part of me. I'm Morgan and I love adventure and meeting new people and doing stuff I've never done before. What the hell is this anxiety shit?

Anyway. That's a typical day in my life, unembellished, without any fun stuff described. It's not that fun stuff doesn't happen, I just wanted to give a good impression of what it is I do with myself when Matt is at work.