Bork Slowly Borking

 Feel like shit again. An odd blend of mental health and CFS douchbaggery are dragging me down. I am stuck in molasses. And the trend is holding, worse each day. My sleep is stuttering. I am trying to shift it. Tricky. It has now fragmented into pieces. Waking up. But unable to stay up. Feeling worse whilst I do so. A bit of stabilisation in the wee hours of the morning. Sigh. I do understand what's going on. The clever AI's are useful. Autonomic systems running a red line. A tightrope. No flex, no steering. Very fragile. Don't fuck with it or else. Difficult. Yesterday my well being went through one of the common micro dips it goes through. System shifts into a feeling of being much worse. The feeling of illness intensifies into that, must, lie, down, sleep,  now . It's shit. As it occurred the well trod defensive patterns kicked in. I need to go sleep for some hours. Nope out of reality. Waste a bit of day in resting. And the misery followed it. I am just. Always. Fuc...

 Therapy today. I attended. Like a zombie. There is. Something going on with me. My sleep schedule is absolutely wrecked - from doing the work. I am sleeping all day, into the evening. And then awake late at night early morning. One big issue with my CFS bullshit, is that I find it  incredibly  hard to shift a sleep pattern around. Because in either direction I start to feel very ill if I try to push it. This is my lack of capability. Adaptability. Flexibility. It is one of the quiet consequences of being continually under assault with a chronic illness. You lose room to maneuver.  Also. Each day is subtly worse than the last at the moment. It is hard to pin down. It is a slow, subtle, slowly deepening hole. Mood. Energy. Wellness. The mood in particular is now falling quicker than the rest. It seems to have hit some kind of slippery slope. And has tanked. And continues to worsen. So I attended therapy. Like a zombie. Mid afternoon. Pulled from sleep. Fighting hard t...

 Sleep is all kinds of messed up. I can feel myself getting more "CFS-y" with each passing day. Still got my head above water just about. But. Trajectory is not good. My stomach is an absolute disaster. But eh. At least I'm not feeling nauseous with it. I am still suffering from "post work burn syndrome" so, maybe it evens out if and when I get over that. Maybe. As ever. The weird tides and storms of my bullshit are not subject to much in the way of logic or pattern. I spoke to Andy yesterday. Conveyed my deep dissatisfaction with having to do 8 jobs at once to get anything done and was sick of it. Sick of the work. Sick of the processes. Sick of all of it. And this was the worst ever example of it the Usual Dysfunction. But on the positive end of the scale I floated the obvious huge market opportunities for utilising my newly forged AI stack. He apologised multiple times. But. Talking about it. It's clear. He doesn't get it. At all. He understands it...

 Struggling to shift gears. I used to have this. Before I got ill. When I would burn  hard  on something. Those unusual occasions where all the processors whir up, all the lights flick on, and we hit a stupid high flow state. Coming down from those. Was always. Tricky. Me being me. I knew what was going on - the self diagnosing analytical processor is always watching internal metrics - but again the living of it is... interesting. In the end I compressed it down into an easy real world analogy. It's like a fly wheel. It spins up. You remove the engine powering it. But that doesn't mean it stops. It keeps going. Inertia. The natural tendency of an object to resist changes in its state of motion. This. Turns out to be not just a physics thing. But a mental and physiological thing too. But I haven't been at that level for many years now. Until recently. When I've burned again. Bad. Bad all round. But here we are. I have done my best with it the last 48 hours. Purposefully ...

 Recently everything has been a blur. Work. Sleep. Work. Sleep. Exhaustion. Squeeze some human bit in there play a chilled game. A not so chilled game. Try to be a human. For a bit. Sleep. Work. In no standard cycle. Hours here and there. Sometimes days disappear in sleep. And then. 48 hours of uptime with a 4 hour sleep in the middle. Burning.  I Should count myself somewhat "lucky" that my hydration salts are giving me just the tiniest bit of margins in order to immediately... take the piss with it. It is. A fragile dance. And I get it. I am being stupid.  But trying in the midst of it to pace myself. Ah ha ha. Listening to my CFS self. Ok. Stop. Drift for 30 minutes. You have to breathe a little. You are already red lining with a system that can't fucking red line anymore. And. You are doing the impossible. But. Try to listen. So that's what I've been doing. Andy has fallen back into a major anxiety dump pattern with me.  And the AI project has been I think its...

 The therapist called me defeated this week. Or rather. That I seemed defeated. We went through me being quiet. What that meant. What that felt like. The changes in behaviour. And finally. If I didn't know better. It felt like an end of things. I sounded defeated apparently. The session ended with the hardest stare any mental health professional has ever given me. And. I've had some stares. I've had to my face deliberations about whether to throw me in the nut house. This stare was longer than any of those. We went 5 minutes over time. That was the length of the stare. We finished on time. We didn't actually finish until 5 minutes later. I laughed half way through it. You find it funny the therapist said. There is a humour in the meta of it I said. I can see the cogs turning over in your head. I can see the pattern of it all. It is like looking at it from afar, and seeing the tiny people on stage, predictable, acting out each thought process. And. It's funny. It...