Life Update: Held Together with Safety Pins and Coffee

Life update: This is your captain buffering — operating on coffee, scar tissue, and spite — held together with safety pins, silence, and a real-time status check from the edge.

If this life update sounds chaotic, that’s because it is. But hey — Zoe’s still in charge, the meds are still missing, and the coffee hasn’t filed for divorce. We’re surviving.

Life Update: Present Status — Functioning-ish

Right now, I’m a wounded soldier, queen of anxiety, part-time functioning human, and full-time behaving parent to Zoe Mathias — my four-legged boss with attachment issues and no work ethic.

Every night, I soak my elephant-ferry of a foot in hot water with non-fancy pink salt for 20 minutes like it’s prepping for a gourmet sacrifice. Do I elevate it? Rarely.
Coz my back and bottom hurt. You get the drift.

Buffering Since 8:00 AM

My eyes start their day toggling between Zoe’s intense judgment and my grumpy, robotic house help — a slow-moving statue who clocks 11 steps in 30 minutes. Real-time buffering personified.

There’s an exercise bike sulking in my guest room — a generous gift from an ex-fiancé. He used it exactly twice, sweat profusely, and then stood beside it like a monument.
It now doubles as a towel drier for guests I never asked for. Honestly, more pest than presence.

Unresolved, but Family

Sibling relationships? They love me to death. Death being the keyword here. Picture passive-aggressive affection with a side of unresolved drama.

Work? Technically unemployed. But I’ve managed to fund multiple surgeries and donate enough organs, bladder fragments, and twisted intestines to Indian hospitals to be considered a top-tier subscriber. I suspect I’m a teaching module. Possibly an honorary case study.

Playback Jammed Since 1980

Despite all that, my insides remain in pause mode — a vintage tape recorder jammed since 1980.

Meanwhile, Zoe reigns. I serve.
60% of my wardrobe — bags, shades, clothes, shoes — still has tags. I live a very demanding life of stillness and sarcasm.

Phone Anxiety & Furniture Hiding

When my phone rings, I hide. Under the bed. In the closet. Unless it’s spam — those are comforting.
Small talk is a spinal injury. Try to understand. Or don’t.

I’m painfully particular about my space. One bottle out of line and there goes my two-hour window of broken sleep.

Frequent Flyer to ER

My favourite hangout? Hospitals. I’m loyal like that.
I practically belong on their P&L sheets. I’m either an asset or a cautionary tale.

Sacred Rituals, Silent Wars

Mornings are sacred:
Black. Black coffee. Keep your dirty metaphors to yourself.
Zoe nudging, licking, jumping, staring — that’s my alarm system.

Solo Trips & Emotional Delays

I travel solo. Because people are pain.
Excitement wears off, replaced by emotional fatigue, a sadness cocktail, and the overwhelming dread of coming home.
But I do it anyway.

Former VP, Current Cautionary Tale

In a past life, I was a VP in events and marketing. Corporate enough to earn titles, broken enough to still flinch.
I worked with people who wore camisoles to boardrooms and couldn’t spell their clients’ names. I had more patience than pride.

Clients? Let’s just say it’s impressive they remembered their own name, let alone the product they were selling.

Tabs Open, Reality Closed

Now?
I come with a robotic foot, a home pharmacy, and deep-rooted emotional minimalism.

Everything’s closed.
Except the tabs in my head.