As previously mentioned, the first month I owned my cozy abode, I wasn’t in Vancouver.
A desperate and destitute friend—needing a temp place pronto—moved in with her three pups.
Did I mention three dogs are not permitted in my building? Did I mention I’m a cat person?
The second month that I own the place (June), I moved into my new condo with my friend and her wee beasts. A condo with no furniture, but a lovely view of greenery for us to admire while sitting on the floor.
My friend bought an air mattress, which she slept on in the dining area with the three little ones. I have a bed frame (no mattress), and I slept on the planks over a bunch of pillows and blankets that offered little comfort.
Wee ones are all “rescues” with varying quirks and limited degrees of house-training.
My friend and I live opposite lifestyles—remember, I’m OCD: uber clean, tidy, organized. I need quiet to hear my own incessant thoughts, whereas my friend lives how normal people with pets do.
My friend saw a side of me that very few people have seen and survived. She’s now in the inner circle of trust and love because “real” behaviour (a couple of unscripted and scary outbursts) is only safely shared within said circle.
Despite the trials and tribulations of extended houseguests (seven weeks), we survived and perhaps even grew closer (?) … after I apologized sincerely and wholeheartedly for my intolerances.
It was an adventure. Our friendship was tested. My new self-inflicted nickname: Anal Anna. Mind out of gutter, please, it relates to my living habits not, well, anyway … I’m the proud godmother of the wee-est of wee ones. (WTF … How’d that happen?)
Anyway, because of the stress of the last several months—dying family (not singular), buying a place, moving (clothes) again, looking for (affordable) furniture, guests—my thyroid, when retested, was even slower than the last checkup. Fuck.
My heavy metals are still over the maximum ideal limit, and I require at least another year of chelation therapy to remove said heavy-duty heavy metals, which contribute to adrenal fatigue and thyroid dysfunction. Fuckfuck.
I refuse to increase my medication1 and instead, on June 1, decide to go full throttle on my the amazing supplement system I use, yet again, and re-dedicate myself to the 3-step program.
I don’t do anything else different—two capsules in the morning, a shake for breakfast, and a skin patch also known as nutrition sticker, which stands for something high-tech-medical-sounding.
I lost six pounds in June. Not the 10 pounds I’d lost the first month I’d committed myself to the program, but considering all of the above, I’m okay with this.
My friend left me the air mattress and bought me a Ficus tree as thanks for staying at my place. Whenever I look at it, I’m reminded of how friendship is about acceptance, growth, attention and forgiveness. That is love.
What have I re-learned?
It’s better to voice concerns as they come up than to accumulate irritations and erupt.
Though I do love animals—and will promptly punch you in the solar-plex if you abuse one—I am not a pet person.
I will likely end up an old lady with fabric cats.
Homework: Water my plant, nurture my friendships.
P.S. The other night with my place all to myself I got a little bit intoxicated. It’s been awhile. (For a lot of things.) And then went out into the world. But I’ll save those details for another post.
1Turns out I have to adjust my medication: I’m supposed to have been taking two pills a day, and I’ve only been taking one. Oy.
2 I did lose six pounds despite being under medicated for all of June. Yay!