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Apr 7

 Therapy today. Didn't want to go. I don't want to do anything. I have I think just reverted to my pre hyped work state. I have. To all intents and purposes. Given up. On everything. Just. No more querying. Sitting with it. So therapy. We talked a bit about being overloaded. Work. And Ill. And everything. And maybe that was feeding my giving up. Eh. Not really. It doesn't help. It's the repeated lesson in Shit That Makes Life Harder. But it isn't the core. We talked a little about whether therapy was useful anymore. I said I really wasn't sure. And that the act of going to a place and talking about things once a week was, just in and of itself. Useful. But beyond that. I questioned whether that "was enough". If there's benefit then yes said the therapist. But I said, what happens if someone just turns up, talks about what they saw on TV and leaves. Not therapy. Not useful. It's a waste of - if nothing else - the professionals time. The therapis...
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Apr 6

 Wandering. Watched a video today of a doggo enjoying themselves. Waiting for buckets of water to tip over them. Just. Obsessed with the joy of it. Living in the moment. This is apex dog. It's also the thing we suck at as humans. Simple pure joy. I can remember times my two mutts also had things like that. The first day we discovered and improved a stick on a rope attached to a tree. Ares was absolutely blown away with it. Tugging on it. Swinging on it. Chasing it when he let it go. We must have sat there for 30 minutes watching him. Athena would join in. Get barged out. It was Ares absolute singular point of joy. For weeks after we would go past there and he would go play with the stick. He loved tugging on things. They both did. Half felled dying trees were the best. They would team up. And tug them over. Sometimes dangling off them. Pure joy. I would always take them places I knew they liked, or thought they might come to like. Exploring places. Finding new places. Always doing ...
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Apr 5

 Cold is very slowly petering out. Very. Slowly. My mood however is tanking. I had that quiet phase a few weeks back. Before I had to shift into manic work burn. And then burn crash. And then cold burn crash. And here I am, I think, coming out of the burn and burn recover and cold and finding myself back to... quiet. But. It's edgier this time. It's the quiet of despair. I think. It's a combination of things. But you can probably headline summarise over simplistically as just not enjoying life. "Enjoying". Not. Involved. Nothing. And having a fairly miserable time whilst doing nothing. It is the language of just "keep going", without any joy. Or aim. That itself. Runs out of gas eventually. So. That's where I am. Without going to deep into the weeds as to why. The weeds are miles deep. Carefully reasoned. And checked. And triple checked. And causal. But even that. I am tired of. Tired of kicking the tyres. Tired of *everything*. There is. A slowly in...
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Apr 2

 Some work tasks stacked up this week. Cold or no. I am for the most part, ignoring it. In one breath I can say, hey, not acceptable. And in the next. Can you do this. Can you do that. Heh. Sigh. It's fine. Just. I need to manage it. No. Not now. I will do it later. Boundaries. Still have a bad cold. Whether this is par for the course for this cold iteration, or, its taking forever to shift because I have a shitty baseline is hard to say. I am not stressing it. Sleeping a lot when I need it. Taking it easy. Trying not to find things to be anxious about. Heating install has been cancelled again. Was supposed to be next week. I've agreed to postpone again. To be very clear I am not annoyed or frustrated by this. If anything slightly relieved - it means I get space for my cold without having to fuck about. Also. I trust the heating firm lined up to do the work. The owner is a genuinely lovely guy. Very apologetic. And does give me outs each time - I could put my foot down. But he...
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Mar 31

 So I have a pretty nasty cold. And a CFS system that is in crash / crash recovery flip flop state. Needless to say. It's grim. Most of the time I am not up to do anything. Sometimes I make a big effort to drag myself upright and do something "normal". Trying to do something normal is important. Skipped therapy this week. First time I have done so. I didn't want to spread what I've got, but, beyond that, I am in no place to do shit anyway. Spoke to Andy briefly yesterday. Laid out some plans for AI development. Andy apologised again for putting me through so much pressure. He is free of anxiety over it now. So. He's back to being a genuinely good guy. He said he cares. And that I can noodle around with some changes, but not to push it. Do what I want. Leave it. Or not.  This Andy I can work with.  I showed him some very recent AI developments. Another new local AI box has come on the market. Useful. There is definitely a pressure there at the local side of ...
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Mar 29.2

 Maybe. This is just punishment. For pushing through whilst cooking. The CFS monster is raging. I slept some after cooking - crashed out. Woke up. I feel. Absolutely horrific. I feel like a truck has run me over. Pain left side of face, where the tingles usually are. Now it aches. My upper torso aches like a fucker. Like I've been beaten with sticks. And I feel utterly exhausted. Like someone has drained all the life out of me. Everytime I move it hurts. Sharp pains all over. Some kind of "face headache" behind it. It feels like I have a headache behind my left cheek. My eyes are a mess. It's super hard. Just lying in place. Makes me groan. This is super diabolical. Worst is has been all week. No idea what to do with it. Might take some painkillers. And. Sleep ? Again ? 
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Mar 29

 The brutal CFS reality. This is my world. Today, I slowly got up, and decided to make a chicken stew. I had picked up some chicken thighs on the grocery run under the optimistic idea that I'd make a chicken stew. It's been a few days. Chicken is still good, but wont last forever. So today I did that. And I start with the idea. Yeah. I can do that. Go slow. No worries. Chicken. Start. Brown it. All good. But by the time I'm half way through cutting a swede I am struggling. I feel dizzy. Exhausted. The task disappears down a long corridor. It's just you. Gritted teeth. Knife. One more cut. One more cut. Keep going. It becomes diabolical. Your system is screaming at you about imminent collapse. Everything becomes painful. Everything becomes destabilising. Thoughts go out the window as the system just reduces down to emergency management. 45 minutes. I am done. I am collapsing. Staggering. I can hardly pick things up from the floor. I leave half of the things uncleaned whe...
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