Bork Slowly Borking

 Exhaustion dipped hard today. It wasn't even a "terrible" day. Just. A bad one. It started... in a slightly more workable position. I got up. Tired. Sat on the computer. Slowly declined. Became very tired. And had to go back to sleep. Coming out of sleep... everything had gone very badly wrong. Hardcore exhaustion had piled on top of the tiredness.  Everything suddenly becomes incredibly difficult. Moving. Becomes a major effort. At one point. Lying on the floor of my bedroom - unable to move from that position. I reflected on the differences of this, to Tuesday when I had a "bit of energy" and went to retrieve my painting gear from Hazel. I checked myself lying on the floor. I could absolutely feel how "heavy" I was. It felt like I was trying to move a tonne in weight. With no strength. Which. Is probably about right. It's just that typically we take that kind of thing for granted. Like Tuesday. When that feels... difficult. But workable with. To...

 One of the recurring themes between Me and The World is the employment of boundaries. Or rather lack of deployment of them. My boundaries are shit. I don't say no to people. Not because I pathologically can't - there are absolutely times I will say no. But because by default I am laid back. Or in more detail. I am mindful of others, helpful, and almost never prioritise my own needs whilst being highly responsive to others. This. Is the childhood trauma as a foundational behavioural seed casting a long and looming shadow over present me half a century later, albeit honed and mixed with the ethics of being against suffering, understanding how hard life can be for people, and "doing my bit" to ease the way of those around me. Most of this stuff is intrinsic in me. I don't feel the lack of prioritising myself. It rarely surfaces as a conscious tension where I resent doing something just to stick to an ethical end point. When my patience hits zero,  something  resentf...

 Therapy this week. The last one. Allegedly. On Monday I was pretty zen with this decision. It really has settled out for me as a definite point to stop therapy because I feel like I've explored a lot of what's going on in this space with a years worth of constructive effort and it has given me a good sense of what works for me and what doesn't. I gave the therapist that high level kind of summary. Enough information I thought to give a bit of context to my decision. But. The therapist wanted details. Ok. I felt this was at the very least as much about the therapist as it was about me. I am zen with it. You are perhaps not. Which is ok. The therapist is human too. Albeit we get into the rather slippery space here of this supposedly being all about  me  and not about  them . In practice. It's not as neat as that. And I feel there are some unresolved tensions in there, not wanting to be something, and also wanting to be something. Pick a lane. Stick to it. But. People....

 Pains are really bad at the moment. Yesterday I popped out to pick up a bare few groceries. I knew I wouldn't be able to manage a full run. Just. A few things. I severely underestimated how much pain that would cause. Just getting in and out of the car was ... difficult. Every movement accompanied with the stab of a hundred knives. This isn't unfamiliar territory. Again. Falls into one of those familiar patterns. This is pattern number 6. I got to the supermarket and gingerly made my way around. Everything *hurt*. Ironically, for once, it wasn't my energy disappearing on my that caused me to tap out of the grocery run, it was pain. Which increased and got harder to deal with the longer I "poked at it". Arriving back home I dropped something as I moved to get out of the car. I stopped. And contemplated existence. I knew I would have to bend over to get the thing. And how much pain it would cause. A tiny bit of conditioning accruing. This is going to hurt. I don...

 Had a better energy day yesterday. But not before surfacing another wonderful bit of shitty work. During the heating install they managed to break my waste water pipe. Yet another fuckup. I didn't have the energy to sort it yesterday - I took a look at it, figured out what had happened, some options of what I needed to do about it - I decided not to get yet another fucking tradesman in, and then collapsed back into a rest state. Today I have undertaken a fix. Possibly temporary. I have glued the pipe back with proper PVC pipe glue which I had kicking around from an earlier project that I never ended up using. The fix is working fine. But. It's not ideal. What I should do is cut the pipe out and replace a whole bunch of external pipe work. The problem with this is that this is the most effort and most faff. And where the pipe is, or rather, the consequences of the break et al make it... awkward. If the break was in a different place, a cut out and pipe replace would be a lot ea...

 Sleep. That's all I'm doing. Occasionally I wake up for 30 minutes. Refresh water. Bathroom. And then crash out. The clock just whizzes around. At this point I am basically 16 hours in bed with those small blips "for air". My bullshit rises and falls in a series of peaks and troughs within those 16 hours. Sometimes bad. Sometimes quiet. I am in what I would class as a "semi controlled crash". In that. Overall I don't have much choice about it and am constantly asleep or extremely low energy - the crash. But. I am still coming up for air to get water and go to the bathroom. And there is a bit of a conscious gauging of time. And bathroom break - the semi control.  At the worse end of the spectrum I can have "no control". Which is where when I turn over. I have no water. No capability to move. Just. Somewhere down in the hole. And it's. Iffy. It can also become properly damaging in and of itself. Been there. Seen that. Got the scars. I think....