Bork Slowly Borking

 Therapy yesterday. The last session. "Last". I span out the therapy to this week because it was clear the therapist was struggling to articulate - they said this directly - and we had run out of time. So. Give it another week. Never let it be said that things were left half hanging. A sentence unable to be stated. As it turned out the therapist didn't have much to say. This is not a surprise. The therapist can lose the track a fair bit from week to week. It is one of their... non strengths shall we say. Concentrated continuity. They tend to operate on a more flighty general continuity rather than picking a conversation up from the week before. Which isn't super helpful here. We talked some initially about how I was doing. CFS being hard. Robbing me of life. "Opportunity cost". Taking away opportunities I might have otherwise had. And that I was at zero. With everything. Didn't want to continue existing. And that the CFS was clearly an enormous exacerbat...

 CFS is kicking my ass. I slept for a couple of days straight this week. Could not stop sleeping. Down in the depths. Everytime I came up, exhausted, a strong pull back into sleep. Around the clock I went. Work this week has suffered for it. Everything has suffered for it. Today I have felt stretched. Nothing is right. Existing is just suffering. There is nowhere you can sit. Nothing you can take. Nothing you can do. Not hydration. Not eating. Not resting. Nothing. Nothing helps. Sleep calls. Really strongly. The pains and headaches roll in and out. The exhaustion persists. The heaviness. Like sinking into the floor. Today I tried rallying myself by pure will. Play a game. Stream it. Force myself into a higher state. Difficult. I maintained for a few hours at a price. And then slumped. I cannot escape it.  Back to bed to rest. Sleeping in and out. And 3 hours pass like they were nothing. Like it was 10 minutes.  Exhaustedly I once again for the thousandth time wonder what...

 Sluggish today. Sleep has been cloying, muddied, deep. Each approach of the surface of wakefulness has come with an  ache  in my torso, that sucking, straining, ill feeling. It is an odd feeling. It feels "ill". Feverish without the temperature. A sickness. Without some of the paraphenalia, no stuffy nose, no sore throat, no temperature. But feeling ill nevertheless. And with that sticky, suffocating sleep. Waking has been mired in treacle and fog. Today I have struggled to do much useful at work. A couple of queries. A couple of checks. But the engine has failed to start. Despite me gritting my teeth. Repeatedly kicking it. It wouldn't start. And eventually. I fell into the inevitable. And slept. And slept. More treacle. More fog. Deep in some exhausted asleep state. When I circle in the shallow waters of still asleep, but somewhat aware I can feel it. An enormous weight and that illness. It takes a great deal of effort to surface out of it. It is easy. No effort. To gi...

 This. Is the hill the therapist will die on. Or perhaps it's the hill I die on. Today was therapy. And after a brief check of how I was doing - a bit of energy today - and how that was - like damocles sword waiting for it to evaporate. The therapist offered nothing in the way of reflection of the defensive session last week. No further thoughts. Business as usual. Ok. My lean was then, that this probably was the end. My lean was that way before the session. And starting the session. Just seemed to confirm that direction. I told the therapist we needed to have a difficult conversation.  I gave them my need. I need you. To admit a mistake. I didn't tack on the apology. Just. Admit the mistake. Correct. Move on. No caveats. No spin. Etc. The therapist was silent.  Why is that important for you to hear those words. Oh boy. Here we go. Because I said it is an indication that the... I rummaged around for the word.... machinery is working correctly. What do you mean machinery ?...

  Some years ago now, my friend who runs a charity dealing with kids reflected that I "made myself very small". He was pointing it out as unusual. And that no one else he knew made themselves quite that small. He was talking about me taking up space with demands or expectations or a need to respect who I am. I didn't have it. I didn't think a lot of it at the time. I understood what he meant. To me. That's how it was. Of course you don't impose. At all. Even slightly. And you are responsive. And adapt. But that was the first time someone had very explicitly set that out. And the commenter wasn't a random. It was someone used to dealing with kids with all sorts of difficulties. Kids for where there was often nowhere else to go. Complicated and rough backgrounds. But all sorts. A background of understanding of the push and pull of demands and space and development. And even though he didn't really mean to. It was an assessment. A nose twitch. Something. ...

 I think, there is something I need from you. And of course, it is up to you whether you give it or not. I need you to acknowledge you made a serious mistake. No caveats. No defensive language. No spin. No ifs and buts. That you made a serious mistake. And then. Perhaps. An apology. And I am sorry I made that mistake. And I need you to mean it. To understand it. Not just to say it because its helpful to me. Or it's what I need. I need you to understand the mistake and learn from it. ~response~ Related threads - I do not entirely trust you anymore. I do not trust your judgement to make good decisions. I do not trust you to prioritise me, instead of prioritising your own ego first. And I do not trust you to understand me. Be present in the room with me. And adapt. When you make a mistake. I have a problem with the language you used. Transferring responsibility. There is a difference between the two statements - I can see that didn't work. and I can see that didn't work for yo...