Bork Slowly Borking

 I have changed. Am changing. The schism that has been so many months in slow progression has turned out to be not a passing thing. But a slow tectonic shift. Arguably. It is a shift 16 years in the making. A winding path that has inexorably returned to its original darker tread, the last few years of which have been a keening cry of grief that has settled into the quiet of desolation. Perhaps such diversions are human life in a nutshell, where sometimes they stick, and genuinely a new direction takes hold, the compass wheel shifts, and a different vista falls on the horizon. But sometimes they don't. Sometimes it is swimming against the current. Certainly I have seen this pattern repeat many times in others. People pushing against their fate. Their nature. To something better. Or different. Only to peter out. Tired. And the current wash them back downstream again. I think this is life at the macro too. Cradle to grave. The absolute. Swimming against the inevitability of mortality....

 It has been a while. Quiet. Everything has seemingly shut off. The few thoughts I have flitter quickly away. There are no more corners to explore, no more boundaries. I have the conclusions. I know where each piece of the puzzle fits. And it is grim. And there is no more to it than that. In the space of this last month I have made my therapist cry. Out of empathy. Or sympathy. Or something. It was not my intention. And when the therapist cracked I immediately softened right the way down and shifted to soothing them. Apologising. For sharing sufficient pain for them to be that sad. I warned them. A year ago. People are always confident right until the moment * after * they've just stepped off the cliff. So it goes. Human nature. Therapy has been quiet overall. I have little to say. The therapist pokes around the edges. My assessment of some time ago to stop therapy, would in the end seem to have been the right call. Not because I am "fixed". But just because there is noth...

 Sleeping a lot. Pains are still there. They wax and wane in intensity across a 24 hour period, but they are always there, always significant, and they wax to very bad indeed. I'm also slipping back into slower, grubbier, more ill, more fog periods when waking up again. But. This might be where I haven't been so consistent with hydration salts. The effects are real. 3 days off them. And you can feel an anchor thrown out the back. Dragging behind you. A period of sleep today. I dreamed of nice things. At least there. Something nice. Not in pain. Not in misery. Talking. Flirting. Something that in the waking world is a million miles away from possible. I woke from that into a wall of unwellness. A "buzz" inside me. A feeling of hot, horrible, unwellness. Like a stewing flu. A plague. I mean that kind of literally. There is a horrible *feeling* to it. Something is very very off. Somewhere deep in the torso. And a faint electric buzz to it. Nerves perhaps. It is a faint e...

 Scraping along the bottom. Both mentally and physically. I seem to have fallen into a deep odd kind of depression. And the physical side is just reinforcing it strongly. No let up. A day which might promise a little lift is instead wiped out by any one of my recurring symptoms making life hard and making sure I stay on the floor. I have stopped fighting. I have stopped talking about it. The pains this last month have not been good. They have still not let up. Vicious all over pains. In the muscles. All over. They rise and fall in a day. At some points I can't manage a single step up without blinding pain. I have a step into my computer room. I stop often now before tackling it. Gather myself. And then step. Ride out the pain. And then continue. I am sleeping a lot. Often to escape symptom problems. They submerge beneath consciousness when I am asleep for the most part. And sometimes after sleep they have shifted around. Twitches are worse. Smashed my foot into the bottom of the be...

 There is a little mental turmoil going on over the continuance of therapy. It has been pointed out to me that this might be a symptom of readjusting to something I had closure over, and then reopened. I can see the point. I'm just not sure it's right. It doesn't feel right. Perhaps it's just more of the same shifting I have been doing of late. I seem. To be less focused. On putting everyone else first. By default. Without thinking. There's a reassessment going on. Of everything. It's not particularly conscious. I am not going through with a marker pen and a checklist. It just seems to be more. Background. And fundamental. Something my cognitive bit of me is not entirely being informed about. I don't know. Perhaps it's just a symptom of something else. A disconnect. A disassociation. I seem to have stopped trying. Or. Something. Quiet. That same quiet. That has been rattling around for months. Slowly seeping out, insidious. Case in point. My sister messa...

 Last day of therapy. No major theme. I asked what the plan was. As it was their plan. No specific plan. Uh huh. Sure. I get it. So. They talked a little about themselves. They re-iterated. With more feeling. They were  very  sad that we were ending. They would miss me. Why ? I asked in genuine incredulity.  They searched around. Because you are interesting. You are an interesting person. You are interesting to talk to. I sat with that. This sits on the fault line of one of my failings. Inability to process, feel, accept any kind of positive value called against me. I can. See. What they mean in theory. But. It doesn't land. The bit that sticks. Is still the why. Why. Like the answer given doesn't exist. No but really. Why. But there are few answers that would stop me asking that question. Because it's not about the meaning. It's about my failure to equate it properly. So the why isn't a question in the end, it's just an expression of incapability to accept a po...