Oct 29

 So I've ended up working pretty hard for the last several days.

It's almost certainly not smart. But I've done it. Working through the weekend my supposed days off, and delivered a prototype of the packing app. Andy is happy.

I am in no proper state to do such things anymore. Working like that has meant that everything else in a day has faded to practically zero - with the exception of journeying out to pick up my glasses and a burrito. I have lived in a quasi state of sleep, get up, eat a little, work, watch something in the background. Sleep. Eat a little. Work. Watching something in the background. What day it is. Or what time it is fade hardcore. I was up til 5am the other day just working.

I just don't have the energy or focus to pull things together into some semblance of a normal schedule.

That I was able to sustain concentration on work is an achievement. I haven't been able to properly do that for a couple of months.

And really, these last few days have been about paying time back I owed.

All that being said.

I think I might consciously take a few days off. Or weeks. Or just hit a dead slow. I am unsure if that's a good thing or not.

I am extremely inactive. I plod up and downstairs a handful of times. And that's about it. Bed. Kitchen. Bathroom. Tiny existence.

The major effects of the gout seem to be just about gone. Again. The minor effects are very much still there. In both feet. I think all that trouble with my right foot was indeed gout. I am still getting issues with it. But it does seem to rise and fall with the rest of it too. So. It seems it could be gout. Or. Just that whole major inflammation thing.

I read a recent study the other day that has seen great results in treating depression through of all things pre biotics. The conclusions being drawn are that much in the way of depression and anxiety and its ilk all start in the gut, with the whole gut brain link. Your gut has a primitive brain in it. A bit of lizard brain. And that brain and your head brain talk to each other. There have been notes as to why this is you often feel anxiety in the pit of your stomach. The old lizard brain not doing well. It's also noted that 90% of your serotonin sloshes about in your gut as well as 30 odd neurotransmitters. You may not think it. But there's a touchy feely part of you sitting in your digestive system.

As time has gone on and the area has picked up more interest, it has become increasingly clear what a massively pivotal role gut health plays in every part of your health, particularly with chronic conditions and illnesses, but also mental health.

The most recent study is very clear. Targeted prebiotics had a massive impact on mental health compared to the control group. Better than anti depressants. The difficulty here however is that they've said no two peoples gut flora is quite the same. So figuring out what works for each person could be a very individual thing. So a mass prescription of X is very unlikely to have quite as positive reaction as might be inferred, but, some takeaways and generalities could well help. This is not the first study to find this.

Hilariously the unhelpful statement "it's all in your head" might be doubly wrong. It might in fact be all in your gut.

Personally. I can believe it. It is the engine room of your body, a complex dance of hundreds of different organisms, a stew of chemicals and processes, each of which then go to make you. Across the board studies have found impact after impact. And just like trying to run a petrol car on diesel, the fuel you run on, and more importantly, the state of your engine, has a large impact on how smooth your ride is. But it's not about the typical bullshit of eat organic fruit flies, or pigeon noses from the slopes of Mt Idiot. It's about the bacteria and how things get broken down. Most of which is a cloudy science at best.

One of my friends is involved in the statistical part of gut flora research. I got to talk to him a few months ago. And he said that they basically didn't know shit. They were studying it and gathering data, but gut flora was a huge mystery. But it was looking like that there was no "one standard" and that there were different stable colonies or patterns. And it also depended on where you were in the world, and, what your diet was.

It has crossed my mind before that whilst anti biotics have been pivotal in keeping infections away for a century, what other less helpful impacts they have had on our health. The nuking of important and delicate gut health. Like a lot of things. I wonder if you end up taking away a short term potentially lethal problem of an infection. And instead replacing it with a long term chronic set of issues that almost might end up lethal. Just at a much slower pace. Nothing it seems, is free.

Perhaps in future with better research and study they will be able to hand out "gut resets" after antibiotics. A package of bacteria and dietary information to get your flora back to a healthy state. But at the moment. That doesn't exist.

Perhaps all in all you're just seeing the slow maturation of medicine. Moving from hair on fire emergency immediate problems, to actually for once considering the slow, sting in the tail long term effects. Of gut health. Of post viral problems. Auto immune issues picked up after virus infection. 

I've had a couple of pings lately.

People asking if I am ok. Because I've not been online. Or seen.

I am fine I have told them.

I am lying.

I am not fine.

The lie is easier.

Eventually they will stop asking.

I can't really put into words where I am. But it's more of the same really. The hopelessness. The lack of joy. My heart has died since Athena went. I have curled into a ball.

If I touch it for too long - more than a handful of seconds. It thunders forth like a tsunami. A wall of grief and misery and sadness. All consuming. Terrible.

I have learned to let it go. To switch my thoughts. Usually to some mantra. Whatever that happens to be at the time. Currently. It is of fighter jets. Flying through a night sky. All in white. In the past it was a rifle, loading, unloading. The mechanism. The feel of it. Click. Clunk. Click. More recently of spaceships. Folding out of space. It sounds odd. I have repetitive little mind tics. Usually when I am falling asleep. My brain just goes into these repetitive circles. Like a buddhist chant. Or an OCD repeat. Like counting sheep. I can only say they make me feel better. Calm me down. There is a comforting familiarity with the repeat.

Neurodivergent mate. Sign of ADHD innit.

Uh huh. Maybe.

I should probably get checked for it. Not entirely sure what use that would be.

Something I've noticed with my writing. When I sometimes read things back. It is so. Measured. Rational. Calm. Understated. At least to me reading it again. I compare it to what I was feeling at the time. The emotions I thought I was putting out. And it is incredibly muted. My writing does not capture the rawness the extremity of the shit going on. Often with things I am writing I am screaming. And yet. On paper. It comes out as a sober treatise from Dr Watson talking about the last Holmes case.

Even I think. When I describe something. Like. I cried. It misses the visceral. I cried. Not a little. Not quietly. I mean awful terrible gulping sobs. Howls of pain. Curled into a ball. Arms wrapped around my legs. Sobbing. Uncontrollably. Even if I say I howled the house down. Like the day after Ares was put to sleep. It echoed in the house. I screamed in the shower. An awful terrible thing. Lost to tears.

So. I don't know. I guess my writing comes out a lot more sedate than the reality.

I think. If I recorded videos instead. The rawness would be there. The crawling horror. It would not be a good thing. Perhaps it's better if it comes across somewhat muted.

In the end it is just me screaming into the void anyway. A way to capture the tail of the tiger and set it partially free through words.

Writing is at least partially cathartic. It gets those thoughts out of my head. Sends them on their way. And there is at least, a small bit of release there. It is, even if only a little bit. Helpful. Calming. A little like talking to someone about a problem. And feeling like you let a bit of it go.

Anyway.

Not sure what tomorrow ( today ) will bring. Not sure whether to work or not. It's already 4am. So. I doubt I will be of much use during the day, or maybe not even see daylight. I need to go out and get fresh air I think. A catch 22. I want to go out and breathe. I have no one and nothing to do it with. Echoes of missing a dog again I suppose. People. Just. Don't scratch that itch. People are complicated. And a burden. And tricksy. Dogs. Are just happy to be out with a stick.

Sigh.

I miss them badly.

I read a small thing today about Matt Leblanc. He of Friends. Apparently he's not doing well. Become a recluse. Depressed. Perhaps suicidal. His grief over Matthew Perry dying has apparently sunk its teeth into him. He has been off and on baby sat by his co stars, Jennifer Aniston and Courtney Cox who are "worried" about him. It has been a year since his friend died. And he has become lost. I understand what grief can do. And now long and how hard it can cut. Life can be cruel that way.

I would not wish it upon anyone.

It is good he has friends who can spend time with him.