Sometimes I forget just how fucked up my body is, even when I'm doing something with the goal of making things easier for my poor, pitiful asshole of a body.
I've seen Pinterest fails like the rest of you, but cold porcelain, a DIY polymer clay, looked promising. The only reason I was looking at polymer clay is because I need cheap handles for my crochet books. Why? Because maybe if I can grip the damn things, it won't hurt so much to use them. So I gathered my ingredients...
...and now I'm sitting on the couch crying because my stupid fucking hands hurt. I don't like the texture. I only mixed the shit up because I figured it was cheap enough to warrant the work of mixing it up. How absurd it is: I get hurt trying to save money because I hurt too much to hold down a job.
I'm sure some of you are wondering why I didn't just do a quick money spell. Obviously I'm wondering it too now. It's demoralizing, though, to feel like I can't even mix up a simple craft item, and I still don't think of myself as disabled. My brain is a thousand miles ahead of my body.
And now I'm seeing something on the news about a family friend whose body has been missing since spring. There is not enough sage in this fucking world to make me feel less negative.
No comments:
Post a Comment