Dec 9 Early AM

 Some 3 or 4 hours of sleep after feeling so fucking ill. The nausea has dissipated. Sanity returns. Or. Whatever passes for sanity. My stomach feels weird. Like there's a cricket ball sitting in it. But at least it's not nauseous. It's not just nausea though. That's. Just one bit of it. If it was like plain old nausea, being sick. It would be easy. It's not. I've had that. This isn't that.

Anyway. 

I feel like a different person.

I can also feel my brain scrubbing out that horrible dip like it never happened. Uh huh. Been here before. Sometimes. And. I can't tell you why somethings it keeps and other things it deletes. Some horrible experiences end up getting the "brush over treatment". Details are lost. It fuzzes over. I am not sure what goes on. It is, pretty obviously, a built in defence mechanism for Human OS. It triggers for some of the worst experiences I go through. It frustrates the note taking scientist bit of me. Someone has smudged all my notes !

In any case.

I can feel it.

That was grim.

I think. I am getting close to my breaking point. There is no light in any fucking tunnel is the problem. You know that it wont let up. That the next day you will go through a horror of trying to feel human. Feeling very very flattened and ill and lethargic and then the nausea will intertwine, it will get a little better, you can if you're lucky do a little something, then it will get worse, misery. Rinse and repeat.

And that's not even touching all the other fucking garbage. Of loss and sadness and on and on.

If at horrible moments. I also touch sad. Fuck me. And the problem is one does call to the other. At the bottom of the hole. Your brain reaches for it all. All the things. I don't know. Like a. Perhaps. Like a life flashing before your eyes thing. It isn't. Really. But. Also. It is. I. Definitely fast scrolled through a whole bunch of touchstones in my life this time around. I don't know. Perhaps. Nuts and bolts. Some mechanism shivers at the end. And it spits out.

Ho hum.

I. Need. To be careful. Or. Do I. What the fuck does it matter. This isn't irrational. It is. At some level very rational. Pushing the exit button when it gets too much.

They say that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

Mmm hmm. And what happens when the problem isn't temporary my dudes.

Of course. That cute sound bite. Should not really be used either for the call against suicide or for it. Because. It is easily defeated in its own logic. And sets a dangerous precedent that, if one can show its preimse is flawed, that means its wrong, and therefore suicide is ok.

It's just a dumb ass bit of wordage. Do not bet your life on the flawed fuckery of some random idiot.

But still.

The point echoes.

It's just about 2am. I am trying one of the experimental things the AI suggested. Something small and warm to eat before bed. Yes. I am awake. Mid sleep. But. My "autonomic collapse" hasn't kicked in yet. So. I figure. Call this my bedtime. Eat something warm and small - a little porridge. And see. If tomorrow. It helps with the inevitable collapse. If it sustains me til tomorrow without the collapse. It will be an enormous life changing difference. I doubt it can be that easy. I also doubt I have got it quite right. I think I have too much. I made a single packet serving. Which isn't a lot. But I think is too much. It's supposed to literally be 5 spoonfuls. I can adjust it maybe. Mmm yeah. This is 13 spoonfuls to be precise. I need to halve it.

And also. Whether porridge itself sets off a nausea response. Forget the autonomic bit. I have to engage with the cerberus of nausea first. Then through the gate. To fight the demon of autonomic collapse.

What a marvellous fucking experience.

I am slightly intrigued whether a small amount of porridge at a weird time actually makes an outsized difference.