I always worry about boring people with my entries. I try to tell myself that it's my journal and that I get to pick what I write, but the truth is that I know that this is a semi-public journal, and I don't want my reader(s) to die of boredom. I was married to a man who reiterated on a fairly regular basis just how dull I am, and it's stuck with me, one of those insults that somehow you just can't shake off, no matter how hard you try.
Last Thursday I completed and filed my human rights complaint against the landlord who, last October, evicted me for having mental health problems because they made me a danger to the other residents of the home. In many ways I feel very glad that I've filed it, and that it's winging its way towards the human rights people in the middle of another province. On the other hand, ever since I filed it I've had stomach aches, headaches, night sweats, nightmares, and terrible difficulty concentrating. I'm mostly worried about my son, who works for the unethical clods who evicted me, and how this is going to affect a) his job and b) his relationship with me. The stress is really taking a toll on me; I hope like hell that I can settle down and relax about it soon.
In the middle of the night last night I woke up with stomach pains, and all sorts of gastrointestinal symptoms that I won't go into. I was also beset with a splitting headache; more stress, undoubtedly. By 9:00 a.m. I still felt like hell, so I cancelled lunch at my parents' place, and decided to spend the day in bed, reading and watching a TV show on Netflix. By early afternoon I was starting to feel better, and was definitely relaxed after the inertia of the morning.
Then my younger daughter, (AR are her intitals, and she's 18) texted me to say that she had three essays due and could she write them at my place. I don't know why she likes working at my place, but I'm glad she does. Of course I was fine with this, although feeling sick, so I got up and showered and established some order and cleanliness in my house, and eagerly awaited her arrival. It's been nice. She's staying the night. We've had take out Chinese food, watched a film, talked, and I've listened eagerly as she's shown me images of her year-end projects. (She's just finishing her first year in a studio arts program at university.) But I've just told her about my human rights thingie and it's clear that she disapproves. She says she doesn't but I've known her for her entire life and I know that facial expression. I wish I hadn't told her. I thought she'd want to know about it, but I can see I've made a mistake in telling her. The last thing I need right now is the extra stress of daughterly discontent.
Well, fuck that, it's done, and I'm pretty sure that I did the right thing in filing a complaint. Not 100% sure, but that's life. We do what we can and we hope for the best, and we can never be entirely certain how our actions will play out. So I will deal with her malcontent. She wasn't there when I got thrown out into the Arctic night in sub-zero temperatures with hungry polar bears quite literally roaming the streets. It was humiliating and dangerous and unethical. I did what I thought was best. So there.