Bork Slowly Borking

 Each day is a fight. This has been true for so long I have forgotten what it feels like for this not to be the case. Each day is a struggle to wrench some form of stability or capability out of the jaws of absolute collapse and possible misery. There are zero foregone conclusions. There is little to no stability to build on from one day to the next. Everyday is a reset back to zero, justify todays existence via knives out hand to hand combat. It is. Difficult. Harrowing. Long term it poses its own challenges. It forms its own meta existential struggles. Not just the battle. But the war. Different timescales. All of them a fight. Yesterday I woke up feeling absolutely awful. As expected, the heating guys called in sick again. Despite promises, I didn't expect any different on a Friday going into the weekend. On getting the call bright and early that I would be without heating and hot water for Friday and the weekend, I collapsed back to bed and struggled to right the terrible ship....

 Heating is halfway through being ripped out of the house. Installed called off sick today. So. Today has been a limbo day. Old one half ripped out. New one half installed. Yesterday was difficult dealing with someone noisy in my space. I did not feel well yesterday. So. That compounded it. And not being able to drink for most of the day absolutely killed me. If I had had a better day I doubt it would have been much of an issue. On an iffy day. It's not good. Today I feel a bit more stable. A little better. Bad. But better. I have got much worse. My capabilities have shrunk right down. No doubt my lack of activity is somewhat feeding the beast, just speeding it all up. The hydration salts are - at least - keeping the worst of the demons away from the mornings. I can actually wake up in a slightly functional state as opposed to being a disaster. But still. Difficult all round. That quiet peace thing has returned stronger. Not the peace of contentment. The peace of oblivion. It's...

Today was supposed to be therapy day. And. Probably wrapping it up. An end. Irony. The therapist has cancelled due to a cold. So. Postponed til next week. I think now is the right time to halt the therapy. I have sat and thought about it and talked it through a little. There are some benefits to it - just in the turning up and talking. Even about nothing in particular. It forces a schedule on me. It forces me to grit my teeth and push against my bullshit to meet a given time and place. Whilst that is unpleasant and accrues a certain amount of cost. It's also beneficial. It can stabilise me out for a short period. And having someone listen and understand without the need to argue, correct, or need explaining to catch them up. Is a friction free process. Which helps. On the other hand. I very much feel like I've read the entire book at this point. I felt like that  before  this year long bout of therapy. But. On the offchance a long bout of talking to someone would magically fix...

 Goddamn I feel ill. Cold is still lingering, and weirdly, seems to have rallied a bit. Yesterday I felt properly flu ridden. Whether that's cold, or the usual suspect CFS nonsense that sometimes feels that way. I dunno. I have a cough. Which. Implies the cold is still around. Ugh. I hate being me. Just. Being awake. Is horrible. You can't even sit still. It's not even a case of can't do anything - you pretty much can't. You can't even do nothing without feeling shit. It means reality is.. not good. There is no reset. There's no point where you can just sit, drop everything and feel normal. There's always a grip around you. Clenched in a fist wrapped around you. All you can do is endure it. Try and distract if you have the capability to do that - often not the case. The distraction effort itself becomes an issue. Or. You nope out. Opt for oblivion in sleep. Where most of it can go away for a time. If you're lucky. I suspect I need a dose of hydration...

 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...

 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 ...