Bork Slowly Borking

 Today I had kinda planned to drop off some supplies to Hazel. Her boyfriend is visiting next week, so she's making an effort to get a few things done. Curtains for one thing. Hazel has bugger all of bugger all. So I was going to drop off my sewing machine and supplies to her. But today the CFS bit super hard.  Super  hard. If yesterday it was giving me a lesson, today it buried me. I got up and literally spent 5 hours trying to move more than 2 meters. Sluggish. Brain fog. A bone deep exhaustion. And a vague feeling of unwellness combined with a developing headache. I gritted my teeth. After 5 hours. And determined to drop supplies off to Hazel anyway. If you're sure she said. I am not sure I said. But I am going to do it anyway. So I wheezed my way to her. Trudging up the stairs with some stuff was hard. Like pulling a tonne weight uphill. But I did it. Conscious that I would probably pay for this at some point if not immediately. My exhaustion toyed with the idea of ma...

 Touch wood of late the CFS has been giving me an easier time lately. This is almost certainly due to me basically not moving, not doing shit, and sleeping a lot. The nausea, which may or may not be CFS related, is still a fixture however. After going out Monday for the therapy session, then working Tuesday, Wednesday a fairly full couple of days and  also  going out today to get my ears sorted out... the CFS has returned to remind me that, yes, you do have CFS, and no, you can't be doing shit like this without getting punished for it. I am absolutely drained through my feet. I can't even get the energy to sit up and sit at a computer. ( I am slumped in bed with a laptop, which, it has to be said, is also an effort ). The heat is not helping. Of course at the moment, mid evening, the temperature is only allegedly registering at 24.7C. Which is warm, but not hot. The  humidity  however has settled in at 77%. And the 24.7C feels more like mid 30's at the very leas...

 Running at an extremely low ebb. I know I am not doing myself any favours - not going out, not really talking to people, not seeing anyone, not doing anything. Constantly fatigued. I am sleeping a lot. And not moving. I uh. Yeah. At a high orbit level. Observing myself. Literally just curled in a ball waiting to die. I get it. It's not good. But also. This is my most "comfortable" spot. Everything else beyond this is pain. And. I have no inclination to be alive. To take part in the world. To do.. whatever it is that people do. No incentive. No joy. So. This Monday, therapy day, I had major anxiety. Super high anxiety. Why ? Good question. Don't know. I think my anxiety has been elevated somewhat lately - probably isolation and not moving is feeding that slowly ( because surprise surprise, if you isolate yourself, no contact, no outside world, you start going crackers, not least of which is anxiety build up )  - but eh, Monday was bad. Perhaps because I needed to go o...

 Quiet. I think the mental meds are doing their job. Smoothing out the crazy. Smoothing out everything a little. Up. Down. They don't promise happiness per se. Just. A little more stability. But even then. Their effects are not exactly predictable. In the past I have described them as lopping off the bottom of the trough. You still get sad, and are miserable or whatever you like. But you can't spiral into the deeps. You hit a glass wall at the bottom. And you even out. They also mute any highs you have. If you have any. There can be an odd rebound effect when you stop taking them. You feel  happier . For a while. I am not happy. Not even close to it. I have given up entirely on everything. No joy, no hope, no movement. Just existence. Same as usual then, except, the bottom is lopped off. Ish. I no longer am literally driven mad at times. Instead I dance on the edge. Bubbling. Not really sane. Not really insane. Sane enough for 10 meters away. The house and everything about me ...

 So I'm on a daily dose of maximum crazy pills. Either it's a coincidence or they're doing their work as I start to not climb the walls each day. I'm pretty sure it's the pills. Worked off and on this week, not greatly productive, not the worst either, at times it's hard just to sit upright. Sometimes the lights flick on and I can do a bunch of work. And other times. I am just a write off. I talked with Andy again this week about the state of play. He re-iterated that he doesn't care if I do nothing. He just wants me there. Because if I'm not there, things go pear shaped. He wants me there for advice. For nudges. Work on top of that is just a bonus. And I am not, at all, to burn myself out. If I do a Tuesday and that's all I can do. That's fine. Uh huh. He is being very careful with me, and I appreciate it. It still doesn't make me like where I am, or the capability I've lost. I guess what it is doing is not pushing me to just quit it all...

 As I turned over to sleep last night, I wished multiple times, just to let me die in my sleep. I begged. Please.  Please . Just let me sleep and never wake again. I said it out loud. As if to bargain with some greater entity. The day has dawned. Here I am. Wish not granted. I slept fitfully. Shallow I am pretty sure. Kept waking up to check the time. Anxiety then. I have maintained discipline to stop any spiralling about Poppy. This is. At this point. Familiar territory. Don't linger. Don't go deep. But it's there. Like a wall of water. I can say this for certain. It is not helping with the rest of it.  These days I find myself often caught in a state of some kind of oblivion seeking. Whether it's suddenly realising I have my hands clasped to my face eyes closed... just... wishing away reality and you've been like that for 5 minutes or more - today. Or whether it's seeking the embrace of sleep and sliding out of existence. All my points of relief are about non ...

 This last week has been tough. My mentals have deteriorated. Into hardcore no nonsense depression territory. I am always in there anyway by and large. But. It has descended. Into that. Unavoidable perma misery, absolutely flat, twitchy emotions stage.  It has been extremely difficult on some of those days. Where some aspects of physical illness also chime in. Repeated nausea. It has pushed me to the brink. And I have retreated. Hard. At times my sanity has been sketchy. Today was therapy day. Today my emotions were on a knife edge. I had planned today to talk about loss and grief. And my terrible coping with it. But instead. We got sidetracked. And we talked about how I was feeling  today . Awful. We went through it. Mostly we set out definitions and terms where I was trying to set the context for it, rather than being pigeon holed into one thing. She used the word  unsafe . I felt  unsafe . Threatened. And reacted accordingly. The reaction, sure, a threat reac...