Dec 13

 Yesterday I finally stabilised enough to go do something - if you squint.

When I woke up I was not great. This is, sadly, nothing new. I won't get into it. But. The usual shifting myriad of alarming issues that has if not exactly become normalised for me, is just a wearisome typical list of things that in a normal person would have you scurrying to the doctor about.

I have stuck to my porridge only, water only diet for 4 days at this point. I have followed blow by blow the advice from chatgpt. And it has done a good job in levelling me out.

I ended up sleeping again after getting up, a very deep sleep, submerged in cotton wool and heaviness. But no nausea. To be honest. It's not the worst thing. It's. Not normal. You are so deep. It's hard to come out of. And when you do, it sticks to you. And there is an odd kind of pain kick as you come up from the deeps. Like pulling a muscle in your chest. A tug on your heart. As it refuses to kickstart. And it drags you back from some very low state. But. There is a warm fuzzy oblivion in there. It is a relief when there is no nausea attached to it. No headaches. Just. A treacle swamp. It smothers you. And promises you endless warmth and mindless emptiness and a slowing pace that dwindles out. It feels like a peaceful exit.

I also scrape that low when I've taken some opioid like medication. An opioid and an anti histamine together can slow me down to a point where I'm not sure I'd make it back again. I think my system runs slow anyway. And those things. Slow it down even further. A known thing for opioid overdoses. It is a depressant. And a little too much slows you down a little too much and you stop.

After I warmed up I resolved to go see Hazel. I haven't seen her since August. Catch up. See what's what. Before she heads of back to the US next week again.

I got to her place and moved slow. Legs with a subtle shake. Each step slow. I could feel myself tugging at that stable level just below the surface. Better but oh so close to the edge. It is fascinating. Watching how it plays out in my body. The cascading failures. The weakness that quickly develops. It makes you aware of just how fragile that enormous orchestra of shit going on inside you is. And how complacent people are when it's working just fine.

Anyway. Moving like an 80 year old. I got to her place. 

We covered everything. I was with her in the end for hours. Easy to do as I just slump into an enormous bean bag in a semi fetal position which means I can maintain without crashing for a long time.

It came up about her always moving. Never being on her own. She acknowledged it. Some of it was others being very particular about not leaving her on her own after Poppy had died. And some of it was herself not being able to face being alone. She mentioned without lingering just how hard that was. Very. Hard.

She talked a little about the loss. And care about not spiralling. And I understood. It rakes the mud for me for all the experiences I have had.

And then she said. She didn't know how I did it. She didn't know how I could live with it. 

I didn't say anything. I didn't need to.

It was an acknowledgement of pain.

Eventually I reflected on some of what she was going through. I had anticipated where she would be. And how hard it would be. And that part of it was that she had never been on her own ever. Not once. All the way back to childhood. And after 40 years, having to adapt to being on your own. No other in your space. Was stupidly hard. Impossibly hard. 

I wrote a long blurb here about pivotal moments in life. Twice. And deleted it twice. A lot to be said about it. And the human condition. But. I will leave it. And a lot more besides.

Eh meh.

Long and short. Hazel is coping. She reckons she will get into dog fostering next year. Not to own a dog. But to foster them. We shall see. Fostering has a high rate of failure. Those that foster often end up becoming the full time parents. 

Got home after midnight.

One day to the next. And pondered what to eat.

I let the universe decide. Flipped a coin. Tails stick to porridge. Heads. Try something a bit more normal.

Heads it was. I ate properly for the first time in a while.

No nausea.

We shall call that a win. 

Later today I have a plan to play games with a couple of old gaming buddies. One of them being the former chef. And he always cooks something amazingly good. Today it's going to be all day simmered ragu with a very chef spin.

We shall see if I can stay stable. I am optimistic.

But in the background. Underneath it all. It is still not worth it. A deep thread of sadness. I am just, for the moment, riding a bit of a high about not being nauseous every minute of the day. It is. A massive relief.