Bork Slowly Borking

 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....

 The cost has arrived. I am utterly wiped today. Super. Low. So low. It's causing issues. Slow to move. Slow to.. just... breathe. It's. Odd. It's like just the regular functions suddenly become not guaranteed.  Everything  becomes a conscious struggle. And you can feel a strong tug into not sleep but some form of unconsciousness. It's. Odd. And. Not nice. It's about as far as being comfy and warm and sleepy as you can get. Today. I burned my last reserves I think. Plumber was round to survey my handiwork of dismantling the kitchen sink. Was unimpressed with the amount of mortar sediment I had pulled from the sink. I briefly related the story. They reckoned they had not cleaned their tools in the sink. Or dropped anything in there. That amount of sediment he said. And you can clearly see it's the same as the mortar on the wall. Just be honest about it. Did they cover the sink at all he asked ? No. Eh well. As it turned out, rather than put together the 30+ year ...

 Death by a thousand cuts. Monday. My heating install got finished. Not before second on site dude fucked up with the electrics, caused a massive arc, and fried my £400 router. Excellent. I didn't do it on purpose he said. Like. Oh that's ok then. Yes. I don't think anyone does do that shit on purpose unless they're a fucking sociopath. Whatever. Perhaps foolishly. I let it go.  Then. Later. The same dude. Did a small amount of mortar brick work to patch up the hole left by the old flue. Before. Sink worked. After. Sink blocked. Ok. I can take a guess. But. Eh. I called a different set of plumbers to take a look. I dont have the energy to sort it. Nevertheless. Halfway through the day. I thought I clearly saw sediment in the sink drain. And one thing lead to another pulled it all out.  4 inches of fucking mortar and sand in there. Very clear. This is incompetence. They phoned today asking if it was ok. No. Fucking sink blocked. I am assuming some fucktard cleaned their ...