It’s been a new year for almost twenty-four hours now as I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, as my Dyson fan blows cool air across my upper body. I haven’t been posting much to social media in recent months, partly because the desire just hasn’t been there.

My legs are sore tonight, as is my right shoulder, arm, and back. The muscles are tense, as if they are encased in cement that sends lightning along the pain receptors as I make even the simplest of gestures. Basically, the areas that are sore are the same areas that were impacted by the stroke I had at the end of January 2023, almost two years ago. The hospital put me on a new oral antibiotic to supplement the IV was getting over the last few weeks. On Sunday, December 15, 2024 I made my way into the ER at Peace Arch Hospital as my right leg was swollen and sore around the large area I’d been picking at over the past few months. I feared a new infection. My left leg also had open sores from similar attacks by the nails on my fingers, only it wasn’t swollen. The doctor set me up for IV again, as well as oral medication: two different antibiotics. The doctors have seen me before, and I sense disappointment in them seeing me back so soon since my last round of treatment. They don’t seem to understand why I feel the desire to submit myself to this kind of persistent personal torture. But they’re glad I know that I am aware that it needs to stop… I’m on a wait list to see the psychiatrist again. But I’m not sure more medication is the answer.

I feel so stuck in life. I want things to change but I don’t know where to start or if it’s even worth trying anymore.

01/365: this is the first post in my subversive selfie project for 2025, a creative personal project where I try to reflect honestly about where I am in life.