May 14

 Worked for two thirds of the day today. Don't think I should have been working. The day was stacked with annoyances. Whilst it did provide some distraction, I am not sure it did anything for the overall what's the point of life malaise. It just underscored that doing everyone elses shit for them, to get other people rich, was absolutely not my point of life. That stuff used to be a means to an end. Now. It is not.

Today Andy had a semi emergency. One of the clients sites was no longer working. Given it to our dev yesterday. But doubted he could get to the bottom of it.

Without looking I diagnosed it. It's a date issue. Because it's a financial new year. You've not updated the new tax rates et al.

No he said. He had updated it. Sent it to the client to confirm.

Are you sure you've updated the data ? Because 99% it's either missing, or its been put it fucked up.

Yes it has been done.

Are you sure ?

Yes. Three times.

I took the first step to diagnosis knowing that it was just a clerical error. This. And This. Needs to be updated.

Is that up to date I asked Andy ?

Shit.

Nonope.

Sigh.

He apologised. Let himself down. He sounded like a footballer, I told him that.

He had only done one update and forgotten the others.

He updated it. All was good.

I let him off the hook and suggested we could create a small UI to let the client do those updates themselves and let them be responsible for the process, as it probably should be.

It was fine in the scheme of things. Shit happens. Things get forgotten.

On the other hand.

It does demonstrate some of the kind of things I face. Not just at my paygrade kind of technical architectural issues. But just making sure people do the very basic of steps of which I cannot ignore, because all problems are brought to my feet. If something is broken beyond repair. I get to repair it. Regardless if it's a nuclear meltdown, or someone forget to buy toilet paper this week.

It's fine. It could have been worse. Still. Always me. The backstop. Everyone else is allowed to goober up. I am not. Perhaps I should worry less about being paid too much for the relatively small amount of time I work for.

Today my brain has taunted me with images of Athena's final moments. Which I have had half a stab at trying to push out of my head. But. It seems like my sub conscious is keen at poking at the wound. At a really visceral bit of it.

I have been endlessly talking to myself about the realisation of how old she was. And how frail. And everyones time comes. And I can see it. I get it. But. That guilt and feeling still sticks with me. Her brain was still sound. She was still Athena.

I suppose the same can, kind of be said for me. My brain, eh, as squirly as it is, is still kinda here. I mean. I can do shit. And solve puzzles. And fuck me still be a goddamn lynch pin of several businesses - absolutely ridiculous. But the rest of me has departed or is departing.

I don't know.

I don't think this sadness will ever end. It is so much more complicated than just Athena. Another milestone I thought of. I have never had a full on officially diagnosed mental event without at least someone in the house with me. An empty house is new ground there. Literally nothing in the place to stop me burning through the floorboards to hell.

Hazel is still here at the moment. She is doing good. A bit hyper. Which generally equates to a better mood. I think she's trying hard for my sake. And trying to be very useful. Which is nice of her. We talk, perhaps once a day, about loss. About Ares. About Athena. And about what my future - or lack of it - looks like. She is trying be positive. And logical.

I just circle around to the problem with all of this. Is that fundamentally I am in a screwed position. Unable to probably survive as I am. Almost definitely so. And unable to do anything about it even if I wanted to because of my health. So. You get to a bit of an inevitable spot. And that ignores any consideration of the fact that I just might not be of the right mind to do any of that anyway. Even if everything was good. It seems like an unwinnable fight.

I pondered out loud today with Hazel that maybe what I needed was a village. It perhaps wasn't so much I was shit at coping with all of this. If you want to be kind. But perhaps a symptom of not having the support of a village around me. Others with dogs. Or kids. An extended clan. Old school. The way we were evolved to be. My role was perhaps of one who would love others dogs, but not have the energy to care for them all the time. Or offer wisdom and teach kids, without having to fully commit energy wise to that. It takes the whole of a village to raise a child they say. I wonder if that is not true about every stage of life. It takes the whole of a village to keep everyone complete and sane. We are a social animal. Our natural state is one of the pack. Perhaps in the end, it's just a modern world that is a bad environment for our - my - natural tendencies.

Anyway.

I cried again today. As I have done every day. Micro traumas of little memories that trigger around the house and the realisation they are all now gone. And the major ones. Of a missing piece of me. Of a life that reads like a history book, and not a plan of action.

I am tired.

I am not sure how long I can keep plodding on. At some point my "adrenaline" fuelled staggering has to stop, And I will collapse.

I suspect once Hazel leaves the rest of the miasma will rush in. Where I will have nothing but my demons and me. And I will wither and die.

Hazel. For her part. Has already identified it. You are waiting to die she said. She wasn't being mean.

She talked about maybe getting a rescue dog. A dog that was more suited to my no energy ill health. 

I very much doubt I can do that.

You're expecting things to get worse she said.

It is based on my hard experience of the last 4 years or so. It has not got better.

You should try the CPAP. This is your one thing at a time try this, if it doesnt work move on. It might make a big difference.

She thought I should get help for my mental health.

I am not depressed I said. Not yet anyway. I know the difference. This is not depression.

Not all mental health is depression she said. You could do with help with other stuff. ADHD. The -isms. Whatever it is.

I doubted it would make any great difference. It was not like I was super struggling with life because of any of the possibly imagined things I had.

Anyway. We talked about it.

No great revelation there for me, no saving path of action.

Tomorrow is another day. Plod on. Numb. Grief stricken. Rudderless.

Work tomorrow. Not sure how much I will do. Hazel also could do with a lift to the docs in the afternoon for a "Nasty Procedure" which she hates and fears in equal measure. She wont have a good day tomorrow. I said I would take her and wait. You could take Poppy and give her a walk she said. My mood instantly tanked. No Athena. A walk without my mutts. Like being kicked in the stomach. I'm sorry she said. Maybe not. 

It's ok. Not your fault. Just me.

Sigh.

It's going to be a while before I can go for a walk again I think. If ever. Another thing I will lose. The idle walking you get when you're with a dog. Perhaps there could be ways to fix that though. A walk of someone elses dog. Still. Never the same.

I miss that bond to an insane level. Hard to put into words.

I am repeating myself.

My madness evident in the things I write. Around and around. A litany of grief and despare and hopelessness.

Just the ticking hum of my mind.

Not good.