Feb 5th

 Bouncing around between zero and sometimes during the day being able to function.

At its worst I can feel myself leaning into just carking it on the spot. Sleep can at times near kill me now. I can't convey just how bad it makes me. Awful. Extremely vulnerable. It's going to take just a little nudge I think for me never to wake up again. I don't know what's going on, other than to say it's an accumulation of all the usual suspects and then whatever nonsense goes on when I sleep getting much worse. And then. Miraculously. I will get 2 hours of sleep that has little of the bad effects. Out of the blue. Like a random switch, On. Off. But mostly. It's off.

Hazel is still here. She seems reluctant to leave. I think some of it is some kind of "repaying" of debt owed to me and her keeping half an eye on Athena. And some of it is her unwillingness to face a day on her own. She seems to be on good terms with her boyfriend on the surface. But. She told me she had a meltdown on the way home from the States. Crying in the toilets for an hour. And all sorts.

I don't think she's in a great place.

I watched her a little the other day. And it was a reminder that she is way beyond my paygrade to help or even reach. There is a depth of lost in there. She does nothing with her days. Bounces from one game to the next. No schedule. No plan. Nothing to look forward to. Or feel good about herself about. And then waits for her boyfriend to be online. And spends as many hours as possible just talking with him and playing games. I am definitely not against anyone finding their own place of contentment. Whatever that looks like. But. She has nothing. No money. No prospects. No hobbies. No goals. No hopes. Is lost. Desperately attached to her boyfriend. Her only schedule.

And there are no signs of her changing her life. Improvement. Or resolution. Or anything. Just another day. She waits for a miracle to save her. Somewhere. Somehow. Possibly in the form of a boyfriend.

Very broken. It's not a condemnation. I don't think less of her. But I don't see a path out for her as it stands. And she cannot unstick herself. I think she needs a massive amount of therapy and help. Something I can't give her.

As it is, she is in reasonably good spirits at the moment. She does the very odd thing around the house, but, has largely settled into doing nothing. I take the mutts out for proper walks when I am up to it. I think this is part of the positive and negative of her staying with me. She slumps even harder into a funk of inactivity - no longer having to need to do some of the basics she has to on her own. Taking her dog out. Doing the washing up. Cooking.

I have no problem with her staying. And if she can do Athenas eye sometimes of an evening - meaning I can sleep. Then all the better. I keep saying we need to check her place for mail and water the plants. But she seems very reluctant to do so. And her sense of time spins out. It doesn't matter she says, if it's today or tomorrow we do it when I find I suddenly have no energy to do it in a day. But that tomorrow becomes a week in a flash. A reluctance to even think about it. It is her avoiding it in her subtle plausibly deniable way. Her psyche to a tee. The plausibly deniable defence. This starts to lean hard into borderline personality disorder, where everything is a narrative of victimhood, and apologies owed, but rarely if ever given - everything is everyone elses fault.

Both her dad and her step mom have texted her underscoring their love for her. She is clipped with them. She showed me the messages. I said it was nice. They were trying hard. She was dismissive. Still no apology she said. She skipped the bit where she had also said some terrible things to them and an apology being owed the other way too. Always everyone else. And not her being a terrible person at times - trauma monster instigated or not. Wounding shitty statements are still wounding shitty statements.

She does not do well with responsibility - of any kind.

She is what she is.

I do my best to help her. And if she can help me in places, we're cool. I don't expect anything. A little goes a long way.

So in this week I have had my birthday. Another year on the clock. I spent most of the day being ill. I slept it away. A wonderful birthday. But at this point this is par for the course. In every week I have complete write off days. Days where I can do very little if anything except feel utterly shit and sleep. I resent having to waste time like that. Losing entire days. But it is where I am.

I am again struggling with the mental side of it. The acceptance of my condition versus resenting the fact I can't do stuff, that I am stuck in a glimmer of life just marking time. It makes me want to resolve things one way or the other. As ever, it's the lingering that gets to me. It's hard. Every other day I have to recalibrate my head. Otherwise it's easy to slip into hopelessness with it. But I think I am losing that battle at the moment. I have lost hope that even having a private healthcare plan will do me any good.

Today was also another ill day. Managed to get Athena to the vet for her librella shot. Got lunch. Came home. Collapsed. Didn't stir until the evening. That's all I could manage in a day. It crossed my mind hard again today what the point of it was. What on earth am I doing. Clinging onto the tail end of tatters of life. Living in one hour gasps between a malaise of ill sleep.

Take a step back. Look at it on paper. I am very ill. And surely. *Surely*. I can't have long left ? I have nowhere to go down anymore. I'm there. But the capability to cling on and suffer bewilders me. Life is apparently hard to erase that final flicker. And in truth I have no way to gauge it. I know I have hit bottom. But. I am clueless to how long you can continue to bump along bottom without dying. It's a lot longer than I thought. I can say that I feel like today is the end. Tomorrow is the end. Because it truly feels like that - how ill I am. But I do not know the endurance of the body, that lizard brain desire to keep living. I can just report that I have reached that dangerous line. I am there. But I have no clue how long you can keep coasting after the engine dies. You end up sounding like the boy who cried wolf. But it is my reality. What can you then do ? Feel like that but shut your mouth ? Seems shit. But mostly. I shut my mouth. Don't tell people. Here for the most part, I spill my actual thoughts out into the void. Between you, and me, the digital page. An echoing room. I feel terrible. I feel on deaths door. Today, tomorrow will be the day. I don't have to justify that feeling. I know it goes on endless. I cannot judge how long it takes. And between you, and me, and the digital page. That's ok. For other humans. I shut my mouth. Mostly.

As for Athena.

We are pretty much in the same place with her. Her care is now considerably less daunting. But she doesn't seem to be improving. The vet seems to think she is very slowly improving. I take his word for it. Her eye is still a clouded lump of scar tissue. And the side of her eye now has a darkened mass, which, admittedly, the vet is worried about. A possible tumour.

She is more tired and more achey of late. Age is definitely winning that battle now. She is still up for a walk. And a sniff. But day to day is getting harder. Her tail wags less. Obviously declining. But not done yet.

I caught some videos of her this week from when she was just 10 weeks old. Small. Full of fire. Full of fierce. And again take a step back. Look at me. Just a dude. Getting a lovely dog. Nothing really exceptional. But the way I feel about it and react. Everything is dialled up to 11. Clearly one of my shining flaws. I have a screw loose, a wire missing. I feel stuff way wayyy too keenly. I am not a well functioning person. It doesn't predispose me to doing well with life. Everything else that follows is fairly predictable.

I can analyse myself too. I am not that complicated. And plenty fucked up.

I doubt that will change now.

Work last week was challenging. Had to pull everyone into shape. Fix some horrible problems caused by lack of experience, lack of attention, just lack. And then the bullshit excuses that come after.

Work being a pain in the ass is not what I need.

By the end of the week I had at least put the ship back into a space that it was going forwards again. But eh.

Meh.

I dunno.

What on earth is the point.

Life is not happy or enjoyable for me. 

I read a news report at the start of the week that was widely covered. A woman in her 20's had opted for euthanasia after suffering from ... ME / CFS. After her death it had made the news. And stirred up debate about euthanasia. About CFS. About long covid. Suffering vs Life.

I got it.

She is not the first person I have heard die from just... being exhausted all the time.

Hum ho.

A lot of negative stuff sits in my mind. Always contemplating my end. I cannot quite believe it hasn't ended yet. That when Athena goes, that will be my cue to go, if I have not already. Not from any sure fire plan. But it will be the last anchor I have. The last reason to grit my teeth go through the pain, get up, take her out. Or to the vet. And instead I can rest. And rest. And just stop. Because there is a weird horrible balance at the moment. I cannot do stuff and must rest. If I do a little too much I crash out and am worse. But also if I rest a little too much I am worse. And overall as times goes by I am worse. It's a balancing act between rest and doing. And here's the problem. When Athena goes I will not get up again.

Perhaps I am wrong. Because as I say, I have no real way to gauge just how long I can stay submerged for before I run out of breath. I seem to be a lot better at holding my breath than I imagined. And despite thinking that no one can live like this, this ill, everyday that passes surprises me.

In a different world. At this point in my life. With what I have. I could be doing so much.

As it is I am crippled.

Which is fine. I Suppose. In the greater scheme of things. I am not railing about the universe not sticking me on a fantastic pedestal. But the suffering. Sucks. To no end. And of late I can feel that hard tug towards oblivion and it not being worthwhile. That suicidal tendency that sometimes floats far away and seems very academic, slowly insidiously sidles up, and feels very real, and very horizon absorbing, until one day, you wake up, and it is all there is. It's there again. Not all of my horizon. But there. Real. Feeling like a sane option. Feeling like a relief. A Good Thing. I am counting days until I can go.

Which means it has wandered into dangerous territory.

And things are not good.

Duh.

Eh well.

Live in hope. Might feel better tomorrow. This week.

The longer I continue like this however, the more hollow that statement becomes.

Final analysis it must be said. I am struggling with it all mentally. Physically I am horrific. Things are not good. Perhaps it is the weight of the last month and more catching up with me. Perhap it is also things getting slowly worse.

Occam's razor prognosis would be to assume things deteriorate over time with such an undiagnosed unmanaged pretty hardcore malaise. Until inevitably a tipping point is reached and it does for the patient.

I can't see any reason to suggest that is wrong.

Living under a hopeless sword of damocles.