Sore.

While I maintain that I don't suffer, there are times when the pain of my Ichthyosis is unbearable. The pain seems to drill down the depth of my skin - from the epidermis on my chubby calves down to the very core of my hyperdermis. It's burning and throbbing and hurts to touch.

Right now my legs are pounding and weepy, and have bloody spots on them from where the sheets moved against them in the night. This is hospital grade sore, though I'm hanging out for a miracle - I hope I don't have to go to hospital. Dermatologists aren't at hospital on the weekend, so I will need to wait til Monday anyway. I hope a few salt baths and the warmth of a quilt heals me.

I haven't really felt right in my skin since I returned from overseas almost two months ago. There's been some throbbing, my stocking sticking to a weepy part of my leg, tearing off the fragile skin and making me wince. It's been scraping under my boots and waking up tired. I am onto my third dose of antibiotics and my patience is wearing thin. I put it down to some stress and worry - mental health definitely plays a big part in physical health.

I was talking to my day job manager about self accountability and the perception of being sick. This is something I struggle with a lot. If I was well enough to go to a protest on Monday, how can I be too sore to do a full day at work? I don't think I will ever stop worrying about that, no matter how understanding those around me are. Sometimes I wish that I had more of a lasseiz faire attitude and didn't put so much pressure on myself to do everything well.

Today I wanted to do some writing and planning. All I've done is doze while listening to podcasts. Tomorrow I see Bob Evans at the National Gallery of Victoria. That's about all I can manage. There are times when productivity equals resting.

Skin hey? It's complex.

How's your weekend?