Jul 23

 It shouldn't be a shock at this point.

Yesterday was a wipe out. Despite being adamant I would finish a bit of work off. I couldn't do it. I flaked out hard. I perhaps managed one line of code.

And I was so tired.

Later, I wanted to play a game.

I couldn't.

I just didn't have the energy. To sit upright. At the computer. And play a game. It felt like trying to push a boulder uphill. Instead. The gaming computer sat on all night by itself. The sad mark of a failed wish.

I did manage to have a chat with a friend. They were keen to know how my shrink session went. They compared it to a compelling weekly show. On this weeks show we get to find out how the shrink reacted they said with amusement. They were particularly delighted when I told them I had quoted them a few times to the shrink.

Uh huh.

But apart from that I didn't do shit.

Ok. How about. Watching some TV ?

I couldn't even do that. I would watch a bit, flake out. Wake up 40 minutes later feeling bad. Tired.

Watch a bit more. Flake out. Repeat.

Suddenly it was gone midnight the next time I woke up. The passing of time was also noted by the computer room glow. Sometimes On. Sometimes Off. As the machine slept and woke itself up. Still waiting for me to come play a game.

I felt exhausted.

So I just went back to sleep again. And slept. All the way around until this morning at which point I felt...

exhausted.

I mean. It should not be a surprise at this point right ? And yet. I find myself frustrated. Annoyed. That my half day of being on my feet has wiped me out hardcore for two days.

Perhaps I will get a bit of energy this evening and manage to play a game after all.

I hope so.

I am not going to bet on it however.

It is now late afternoon, and I feel like I could sleep for another 24 hours without touching the sides.

This is CFS gnawing on my bones. This is the post exertion slump. The bust to Mondays bang.

Today was also accompanied by all over pains. Gasping for breath. Nausea. Ehhhh. Ok. The other minor horsemen of the apocalypse who can also like to come for a ride when the CFS is being a particular bitch.

And yes. It's been that bad that of course I completely failed to put the bin out. So. Great. Well done me. 

It is what it is. 

I have had worse.

Is the worrying statement.

I Am very not good. But it has been worse. I can. Kind of. Just about. Stay awake for chunks at a time today. But yeah.

Sigh.

Also. Something explicitly occurred to me today. It is something I have been kind of aware of, but never really explicitly nailed into place. Me dealing with CFS. It follows the textbook definition of the grief cycle. Namely.

Anger. Followed by. Depression. Followed by Bargaining. Followed by Acceptance.

And then. In a delightful piece of bullshit. It resets to step 1. Anger. And we get to dance through the phases again.

And again.

And again.

I paged back through my blog today as I sometimes do. Going back over what I was thinking and feeling. Watching older bits playing out like a performance on stage I am no longer part of ( I am, but it feels like something else ).

And I realised you can see those stages.

I even caught the bargaining bit the other day. This one in fact - https://borkborkington.blogspot.com/2025/07/jul-5.html 

Where I note about taking enjoyment in watching TV when sometimes it feels a bit better and is that positivity ?

It's bargaining moving to acceptance is what it is.

You can see me jogging around the fucking cycle over and over like a demented hamster caught in a wheel. 

Huh.

The whole CFS response is just grief ?

I mean. I did say on, eh, week 2, of shrinky sessions that my CFS response was basically one of grief. And that aligned with all the other grief touchstones, Ares, Mom, Athena.

But.

Eh.

If you want to hardcore frame it. And. We all know the pros and cons of squeezing things into frames.

My response is just an endlessly repeating grief cycle with it. 

Despite me already kinda knowing this. The very stark textbook following of the grief cycle is something of a minor revelation for me. Like heyyy. Look at this. We're absolutely textbook common fuckery ! Wonderful ! I shall get the achievement badge tin out again and go grab the sewing needle !

Finally.

Hazel sent me this.

She's a comedian.

"also this thread I saw earlier, lol it you"

 

 

Uh huh

We have had this very discussion multiple times. Hazel has asked why I have so many of X. Because I always explain. If you buy enough of them, you get to some critical density of them where you usually can find at least one of them at any point in time. Some phase in. Some phase out. Keep buying new ones until you always seem to have one to hand. Easy.

This is my strategy for a lot of minor things. Because otherwise I can't find shit. Also bang on the nose. I do indeed do it for socks. And scissors. And flashlights. Amongst other things. If you discount socks, then I think screw drivers are probably my highest count unit followed by tape measures. Rulers also fit into that. I have three metal ones alone. Because I can never find them. Naturally. I have bought an embarrasingly high number of screw drivers. I even try to do my best about giving them a consistent home. But. It never works. I swear to god they just get up and walk off.

This is also why I must put my wallet, keys, phone in exactly the same place every time, otherwise chaos ensues. The wallet and phone can sometimes be reliably left in a jeans pocket. But only a jeans pocket. Never a coat. Or a bag. Otherwise they too instantly disappear into the magical ether. This is, honestly, a big deal to me. If for some reason this doesn't happen. It's truly one of the most challenging periods of time for me to Keep A Lid On My Shit and not spiral out into some angry anxiety depression malarkey. In fact. Ho ho. Sigh. When you step back from it. It's another fucking grief cycle again. Perhaps I find life in general to be very ... grief filled.

This kind of thing is one of many small clues that there is Something Fucky With Me. 

There is also more seriously perhaps a whisper there of, ohhhh, did you know, that many neurodivergent types can have a good deal of difficult dealing with the world because they have their hands full dealing with their Own Bullshit and it ends up being very distressing.

Sigh.