April 12

 A week and change into my month off, and I haven't done much at all.

That's the point.

Is it ?

Yes.

Grumbles.

The days continue to be something of a mixed bag, but slowly, oh so slowly, I think I am improving. Ish.

The nausea et al is a whole lot better. A whole lot. It's not perfect, ho ho ho, definitely not perfect, and there are shades of feeling green at times. But the depth and frequency of them has reduced significantly. This goes hand in hand with what I am eating. I am 99% convinced now that some of what has been going on with me is a gastro thing, and of that, I think I have found some level of control on it depending on what I eat. Figured out some triggers.

Not feeling like shit all the time has upped my feeling of capability. I can noodle around more. And feel less shit about it.

Which has an uptick on my mood.

However.

I have very definitely been wrestling with my mental health over the days, typically in cycles of less than 24 hours. Erratic. Mornings are - weirdly at the moment - typically better. Afternoons can be a shit show. Evenings are better again. In fact I am tending to feel better all round in the mornings.

So, if I am bouncing around in a 24 hour period, not as simple as something like depression or anxiety right ?

I think it probably is. I suspect if you examine me properly I am - as is often the case - in a depressed state. But I've gotten particularly good at living like that and can function and appear normal whilst dealing with that shit. Partially. Sometimes. And sometimes I can't. So I bounce a bit. No doubt the meds have a suppressive capability to them here that stops me spinning out.

As Hazel occasionally says to me I am high functioning crazy. Nuts. But capable. Just about. Except when I'm not. Heh.

On a walk last week, me and Hazel shared a funny story or two about Ares. It was the first time I have shared something good about Ares without becoming extremely sad. Of course. A day later. I was horribly sad about him. But still. I am still very uncomfortable with the whole process. The way his memory blurs around the edges. Things fade. The sharpness dulls. It feels in some ways like I am losing him bit by bit. Yet another betrayal. It does not sit easy with me. I know the alternative is to suffer horribly with sad memories that never dull. But. A greater part of me would rather suffer than blur that.

Of course.

I am nothing if not an enthusiastic taker of opportunities to be a dick to myself.

Rule #1. Don't be a dick to yourself.

Still. It feels like a failing. A betrayal. That I am not good enough. Too weak to handle that reality. And so my mind slowly erases the bad. I have no say over it. It makes me disappointed in myself.

Regardless of whether that is fair or reasonable or yada.

I can have brutal standards for myself. And I get that. The brutal bit. The not being particularly.. soothing. Or easy. Or nice.

I think at its root is a burning need not to be a fuckup. Not to be like a lot of others, uncaring, selfish, egotistical, full of shit, etc. I'm stupidly far from perfect - aren't we all. But I like to think that I try pretty hard at the things that matter. And am selfless.. to a fault some tell me.. about trying to achieve a "better standard" of person for myself. I see how much pain and misery can be caused by uncaring fucks. And I do NOT want to be that. Definitely my strongest imperative. Trump, is my antithesis in so many ways, the epitome of much that can be wrong with a person.

And so. Anywhere where I even smell like I am not pulling my emotional weight. Begins to be an area I can admonish myself.

I get it. Intellectually. I can see the pattern that sets me up for self flagellation and how .. brutal.. that word again, it can be for me. I am not sure I can be anything but that.

Anywho.

What were the two stories about Ares. Both are from his last year. When he was slower, and wobbly and yada. Far from his prime.

Hazel had leftover pizza for lunch. Ares was asleep, as he often was. Slow. Asleep. Uncaring of people moving around. So she got up to get a drink from the kitchen. When she got back a minute later, all three pieces of her leftover pizza had miraculously disappeared. Scoffed. By an Ares.

Of course he didn't get told off for it. You'd have to be a monster to tell off an old ailing mutt for eating leftovers when he shouldn't. They get a free pass at that point in their life.

Second story mine. Same theme. A slice of wholemeal bread perched on the arm of the sofa to go with my soup. I talk to Hazel, turned away. My slice of bread disappears. Did I forget my bread ? I forgot my bread ! It must be in the kitchen. A snuffling Ares at the side of the sofa gave it away. I didn't see the bread. Only the final sniffs on the floor. He had pulled it off the sofa and eaten it.

Funny lad. Always super keen on his food. I miss him terribly. Of course.

Someone posted something on social media a few days ago. They just wanted to say how much they missed and loved their dog that had passed away 3 years ago. Everyone else had moved on they said. But she hadn't. And she just wanted to say out loud, that she loved her dog.

I told her that her dog looked awesome. And that love would never die. Death sucks. She agreed. And that her love would always be there, regardless of whether others moved on.

It is, how it is. At least for some of us.

Boy, you're going to carry that weight.

Anyway.

This period of downtime has turned out to be a struggle. I imagine some people think of it as a lovely month off, smelling the roses, possibly going on vacation, how delightful. It is none of those things. Of course, me being fucking me, it is a struggle. A wrestle with myself, my mental state, my direction, just, living from one day to the next. A fight. But. It's ok. I think. It is.. a positive.. fight. Not a hopeless one.

But. Eh. Yeah. Not easy. I spent most of yesterday afternoon curled up in bed. Initially because I was tired. And then later because.. I just wanted oblivion. Ever since last year I have a.. tricky.. relationship with sleep and rest. It offers me oblivion. I am eager for it. Take me away. As the song says, its gone from something comfortable, to something else instead. There's kind of a meme for that :

Positives

My continued progress on Not Feeling Like Shit All The Time is good. Possibly even huge. Even as it is, it's a whole lot better than it was. And if offers a tantalising prospect of actually improving further.

My time off is, in the background, allowing me to slow down. Unwind. I spent 20 minutes in the shower yesterday feeling a whole bunch of shit "escape" me. A whole bunch of awful crap just exhale out of my body and leave me feeling warm, relaxed, at peace. I don't know if you get that ? I used to be able to do it all the time. Now, not so much. Like a sigh of relief dialled up to 10. You can feel a bunch of negative crap leave you with each longggg exhale, and everything behind it flop into a state of relaxed peace. It's very nice. All very. Meditative.

I am getting tickles of interest in doing things. But. By and large. My motivation continues to bump along the floor. I am still very much.. recovering. Exhausted. Yesterday something clicked in me. That I have been under estimating my need for downtime. I mean. Fucking duh. But again. Easy to say intellectually. Different matter to actually get it into your thick head.

Rule #1. Don't be a dick to yourself.

Different matter to actually get it into your thick head  It can take time to absorb things. That's ok. Everything is a learning curve. Nothing happens instantaneously.

Better.