Sep 22

 Left foot is stubbornly gouty. It has moved again, or rather I think it's just a different wave. It's nothing like as bad as it has been, but it's swollen and painful if you move it, and it comes and goes in intensity. I am hobbling around better on it. But meh.

At times I am feeling a whole bunch better. My eyes are doing a lot better. Not entirely sure why. The black eyes have got better, still there, but a lot better. The stinging grainy eyes are way better. Perhaps it's an allergy thing to do with the time of the year. Perhaps one of the minor tweaks we've made to my underlying crap has made a difference - the clearing dose of antibiotics et al might have done something.

To recap, over the last six months we've done a lot to alter deficiencies and what's going on with my gastro. Supplements to get my vitamin D, slew of B's and minerals back in order. Gout meds to tackle a probably chronic level of uric crystal buildup. Anti bios et al to sort out a small intenstine gut flora bunch of issues. Looking at sleep apnea and what to do about that. Washing of eyes and a routine of saline solution. So eh. Perhaps just nibbling around the edges. But maybe it has a nudging effect. I can't help but feel of them all, the SIBO stuff, the anti biotic nuke seems to have had the biggest impact, but, it's hard to tell under all the moving parts.

But. Despite at times feeling a bunch better.

At other times I am my usual frail self. I collapse hard. I think quite a bit of it at the moment is also to do with my mental health. I think currently that's probably doing the most damage. My mood is as low as it gets. I am not "losing it", so, from that perspective, am a little above the water line stability wise ( although it's not great, anxiety stalks me continually making "normal" things difficult ), but I am far down in the hole. I seem to have given up in general. With everything. And slumped hardcore.

I am fortunate to have a roof over my head. A warm place to sleep. And food when I want it. And no danger of any of that changing anytime soon, or probably ever. I am thankful for having a safe place in which to self destruct. It could be much worse. So many people face similar holes without such guarantees ( which is an indictment on society, but, let's not go there ).

I have no plan or path out of where I am. Just waiting.

I can feel my personality indelibly changing. At least I think so. There is a point I think where your environment stops being the thing you are fighting, different from, and ultimately takes you over. The abused becoming the abuser. The hopeful becoming the hopeless. It is not different from the making of a cynic. Someone who starts thinking the best, but then over time, is eroded down into a cynic. World weary. Disappointed.

I think for the longest time I have mostly been fighting the "good fight". For sure who I am has been warped by my experiences, but, I think a core of me has always fought against it. I am, still me. I don't think that is true anymore. I can feel that insidious rot. I have witnessed it in so many others at this point. You can see when peoples hatred or cynicism, or whatever it is in their life begins to overtake them. It moves from the thing that is bothering them, to the thing that they are. I have seen it most commonly as people get older. It is that accretion, the loss of flexibility, stuck in a certain way of doing things, a certain behaviour. I have resisted that until now, but now, I am pretty sure, I can feel it happening to me. The weight of everything is too much and there is a finality there that was not there before. It is complicated I think. And not a little of it is to do with aging. Time running out, choices made. You only get so many choices. You only get so many days of fate fucking with you. At a broader level it is absolutely symptomatic of a problem with my mindset, because for many, at my age, life still has much mileage in it, experiences and adventures and all sorts. You only have to look at old dudes having kids in their 70's. Married in their 80's. Closer to home, look at my work colleague with a new baby at the age of 54.

Of course. You can argue about the wisdom of some of that.

But what you can't argue about is that there is definitely life and choices and things still happening.

But to me, it feels like it's all over.

Tricky. Because my general suite of chronic health problems makes a lie of my chronological age. If I was fit and healthy at my age, perhaps it would be different. Being fucked health wise at my age certainly adds considerable mileage to that clock.

In any case.

High and fancy analysis aside.

My mood is tanked hardcore. I am stable. Barely.

I am start upping my mental meds. Albeit the rolling headaches have already started. Noticeable uptick.

Hazel popped up a couple of days ago. A short message. Hoping both me and Poppy were well, and that she was feeling somewhat homesick. She is missing Poppy. Understandable. I never really understood homesickness when I was a lot younger. Until I got it myself ( the old failback of the dumbest way of learning shit, failure to understand until it happens to you ) whilst in the US myself. I am not sure. And I dare say it's different for different people. But I suspect that in anglo countries, there is a unique homesickness that sets in for displaced anglo speakers. Whichever way around that is. Because whilst the language is common - by and large. And a lot of the cultural things are broadly similar. Which allows you to almost fit in, it also lulls you into a surprise that it isn't the same. And you miss what you no longer have. In a weird way, because it's so similar, it heightens the differences. If that makes sense. I think perhaps there is something like the whole "clean break" phenomenon going on. It is easier to reset in a place where everything is alien, and little reminds you of home, than it is to live in a place where many things remind you of home. Just a theory. Bottom line. I think Brits can get homesick all too easily when in other anglo places. The same. And yet not. And the UK is unusual and quirky, by world standards. Just the weather alone is unusual ( caused by a unique placement of clashing weather systems ). But just the trick of history and geography mean the UK is a bit of a unicorn. Isolated and yet not. Independent and yet not. An absolute melting pot of cultures and languages of invaders and rulers. Geographically half a step removed from the European monolith meaning the UK is more culturally sticky and independent than the European continent.

Anyway. Whatever.

I think Hazel is due home in hmm a week and a bit. I suspect she will want to stay with me a bit before going home - this has been her usual pattern. Which I am heavily disinclined to be open to this time around. I would like her just to pick up Poppy and go home rather than camp out with me for weeks or months. I am mindful however that a hard out rejection, no, just go home, would likely cause her some unhappiness if not anxiety et al. So. Difficult. I think in the end a bit of a compromise might be the way forward, assuming she does want to stay for a bit. A few days. Then go home. 

Whilst I absolutely enjoy company at home, my attitude with Hazel has definitely shifted in the last six months. Fair or not, I am now a bit more sensitive to being used. I am a bit more mercenary about what she actually does for me positive wise, versus what she does to me negative wise. The liberties she takes. And also. Brutally speaking, she she is a bottomless pit of need - at least, bottomless to me. I am exhausted. Beyond exhausted. And yet I still will do things for people, for Hazel. I can't be doing that. As one of my friends argued with me about sometime ago, that I expend energy for others even when I have none, and that I can't do that, I need to be more careful, and do things for me, and etc. Whilst I argued strongly that I would always help those in the pit, because, no one deserves to sit in a black hole on their own, no matter how shit they are, or how much they refuse to help themselves, perhaps a little bit of me has listened and changed. Except it's not that. It's not just listening to that advice and decided to change. It's a longer, slower more subtle thing that has been evolving for a long time.

I think it's more of a thing of realising what really works for me, and what doesn't. And that expending energy on stuff that doesn't help my difficult position out in any way, is a luxury I can not really afford. I cannot keep on giving, when I am getting nothing back. "Nothing". I mean nothing in the sense of that whole moment versus path thing. I cannot have a broken path, expend energy to help others with their path, and get back only a moment of help. If that makes sense. Giving away a pound. Getting back a penny.

In normal circumstances, if I had the energy and health and mental capacity I am more than happy to give away as much as I can. I am not concerned with mercenary transactions. 

But everything has a limit. Life itself stops. Death is a limiter. There are no exceptions. There are limits. Perhaps this is my limit.

Perhaps it's just stopping to breathe. Out of breath. Exhausted. People need to rest. Everyone needs to sleep. You cannot go on 24/7.

So maybe I just need to rest. I mean. Rest from always putting myself second.

Anywho.

Bottom line.

I can't at the moment bear to have to look after Hazel if she spends time with me. And I will have to look after her. Because even when she has been - ostensibly - looking after the mutts, or helping me when I am ill, I still end up looking after her. Cleaning. Cooking. Making sure things run on schedule. The trash is taken out. Because she wont. And if you dont. The borderline monster eventually rages out because its uncomfortable. There have been times in the past where I have been legs shaking, feeling super shit, stood at the sink to do the washing up. At Hazel's insistence. Because the alternative of having Hazel rage out is worse than me collapsing in the kitchen. Not good. As I've said before, she could never be mistaken for a nurse. She does not have it in her.

I can't be doing that at the moment. I cannot cope with her.

So.

Ideally.

She needs to go home, and not stay with me.

Lonelier for me. But also. I don't have the weight of responsibility of dealing with her issues.