It's for me, you are along for the ride...

"Don't post anything again till you have something funny to say", I think to myself.
"But, I'm not in a funny mood," I reply.
The blog isn't here to be funny, it's here to be real and to be therapy and to give me a vent. Here is where I am today.
I can't get my hands hydrated. They are dry and thirsty. Dead, dry pieces around my nails snag on things. I become more frustrated with them than usual. I think my hands are so unladylike. I know God made them this way, and I know I am thankful to have them, but at times I yearn for more feminine looking hands. Gentle, beautiful hands. And now I can't even keep the skin that covers them from going scaly, blotchy white all over. I smother lotions of all kinds. If it smells good I know it probably isn't healing. The best stuff is hard to rub fully in and does leave a greasy film. I may get it healed up only to find the next day it looks as if I didn't do anything. I smother more on. I rub it in, cut off the dead skin, rub in more. Sometimes I smell good but need more. Sometimes I'm greasy but healing. Sometimes I am weary from trying and watch the skin shrivel further and I have old lady hands.
I see it. The drying up of my soul I am feeling. I have to oil it up each day. I can make it smell good and make it's texture unoffensive and I won't heal. The dried edges are snagging on trials and frustrations. It ages me.
I rub in more lotions.
I smell like Jasmine.
I get the "good" stuff and now I smell like nothing and am slimy for awhile. I heal. Texture is restored.
Everyday. The battle for solidness is everyday. It's OK for others to know I am struggling and I don't have to treat the surface for anyone.
Someday I will feel like being funny again. And I will type it. Oh how I will type it. Peppered with my beloved sarcasm it will flow.

I rub in more lotion.