Eaton Hamilton

Which is not really what I want to admit. But I’ve been scared–terrified–all weekend, and have ground to a messy halt. Not that I do a lot outside of the ordinary on the weekends on the regular. I add some cleaning like changing my sheets and cleaning the bathroom, doing laundry. I run the dishwasher. Sometimes when I have decent yeast I set the breadmaker to make bread. I post on my blog, here, and on my Patreon, and mostly I continue to work on whatever project I was working on during the week. I’ve a seven-days-a-week worker because I’m so unreliable from disabilities and illness that it’s actually easier to just keep at it instead of starting again, which inevitably will run into ADHD procrastination hell. I finished a really cool painting that I think I was working on, off and on, for four years. I’m showing it here, to you, for the first time, though a quick iphone snap doesn’t exactly capture it.

I’m scared of what’s going on in the world. I’m scared of some people I know, and I’m scared *for* some people I know, too. I’m scared of what’s coming up for me. This shit isn’t fun. This shit is overwhelming when you’re alone, disabled and starkly ill.

But it is what it is, and I remind myself that not liking my choices isn’t the same as not having choices.