Feb 4

 Not a great set of days.

The summary.

On Monday Hazel took me to an "emergency mental health appointment". And they looked in my ear. I met my actual GP - who I have never met before. And she wasn't terrible. We talked about mental meds. We talked a little about me being neurodivergent. We talked a little about zero support from the NHS.

She then arranged a follow up appointment for next week. And an appointment with the mental health nurse the following day.

Did that, a nice young lady with ADHD who positively vibrated in her chair. She was "one of the people". So we connected. 25 years apart in age I would guess. But. Like recognises like. She didn't have a huge amount to say other than "I was absolutely neurodivergent" talking to me for 5 minutes it was painfully obvious. Also that she couldn't give a diagnosis, but, maybe I was autistic. But. The socially adept kind. Eh. Meh. I don't know. My friend who kind of knows these things thinks the "only" thing I am is super smart. And everything is a problem because of that. 

Regardless.

The nurse seemed to think that some of my issues might be because I have to mask all the time. And certainly. As my illness bullshit has depeleted me. There are a number of "quirks" that now get less masking, and become more obvious. It explains why somethings are super hard for me. And others are a breeze. 

I also had therapy on Monday. We talked about the ongoing crisis. I said repeatedly that I just wanted someone to kill me. And that I was broken. The shrink repeatedly denied I was broken. Just. In a lot of pain. And scared. And that if a puppy was scared, you wouldn't think they were broken would you. No. But. Add in all my other bullshit. And we do make calls about life and death at that point.

I talked to Andy on Monday. And just gave him an update on where I was. Meltdown.

And today, I got my ears cleaned out. My hearing has very slowly come back in this week. And today finished the job. That at least, is one anxiety inducing bit of bullshit off my list.

So mentally. The psychological stuff had gone physiological. I didn't catch it in time. The switch had flipped to on. And it was out of my control.

This is very bad news bears.

In the past this has been absolutely category 1 meltdown territory. Losing the plot. Suicide near misses. Months of psychological fuckery. The darkest of places psych wise. They are not places I want to go to. Or revisit. They are. Absolutely. Existential end points.

And here I am. But.

I pushed the button early. Not early enough perhaps. But then. I'm not sure there was an earlier here.

So. I am in physiological territory. I have no control over it. I can have a head full of nothing. Calm. No thoughts. And my body feels like it is about to be murdered. An all pervading dread, heaviness, and screaming anxiety. Without any thoughts. Just anxiety.

It flips everything out. All your other physiological responses, swamped in stress chemicals, also react accordingly. Things get weird.

And of course. The brain. Sitting in a pickle jar of stress chemicals. Has to paddle very hard indeed not to turn any thought - if they come along - into reinforcing super anxiety spikes. The trick. Is to not think of any responsibilities. Any worries. Any fears. Any plans. Anything. Really. Just. Empty your head. Think of what is in front of you that is unimportant. It is hard. If you meet any genuine worry or sadness it will go absolutely nuclear. There. Can. Be. No. Stress. Not even a little one. The most inconsequential.

But anyway.

I am not lost. Quite. I have recovered - just a smidge. And it is very thin. The physiological switch is still on. It will take some time to coax into an off position. Days if I am very lucky and it's not too deep. Weeks if I am less lucky. Months if its hardcore. I am fairly certain I have dodged the months one. But. A passing breeze on the negative side will make that manifest hardcore. Give me something new to worry about. And it's going to meltdown harder.

I understand why I am here.

I can see it. Dispassionately. From a distance.

My chronic illness has eroded my capacity. It is a constant insult to my physical health and mental well being. It is not something I can fix. It is not something I can ignore. It takes all my remaining energy - and some that I don't have - to cope with it. If I was a juggler. I am already juggling the maximum number of plates. If you give me additional plates to juggle. I start to drop them. Potentially all of them. I am vulnerable to a whole host of things that if I were healthy, I wouldn't think twice about.

And. I can see the fractures from my upbringing. The not so good things that are both some of my strong points and simultaneously my weak points. And how that also feeds into my current predicament. And makes me more likely to melt down. Less likely to seek help. To not think I'm worth it. Way more likely to just nope out and wipe myself out.

And I can see I am atypical. Quirks. And things. That mean a bunch of low level stuff that I have always just adapted to, and put up with, are an effort. Somethings are harder for me period. Other things. Easy. But that too has its subtle impact.

And you put it altogether and I see where I am. Objectively. In a very dark place. Not really escapable. Miserable. And suffering. With no point in going on. But I do. For the moment. No one agrees with me. Everyone thinks I am worth saving. Thinks that it can be better. Or. Something. I think. People just don't want to come to the dark conclusion that's all. Or. They just hold out hope. I get a lot of that. People hold out hope I will turn a corner.

In any case.

That. Is way, way, way too much like forward thinking.

The point. Is in this moment. Right now. Nothing else. Don't think of what I have to do. What I should do. What I can't do. Just. This moment. Empty head. Do not. Trigger anything. And wait. For time. To reset my scrambled endocrine system that is currently hardset to panic mode. 

My BP is through the roof. It has jumped up 20 points. It hovers just below the go to hospital threshold. This is no doubt a combination of a) my salt hyrdation therapy b) a new diet of vasoconstricting anti depressants and c) anxiety.

Ironically. This too has shifted into a potential existential threat. I think. Of all of them. I'd probably take that one over the others. Assuming it would do me the mercy of just stroking me out or giving me a heart attack without just crippling me and leaving me to dribble on.

Hopefully. The BP will subside as my system sorts itself out. I have reduced my salt hydration by half. I am loathe to stop it entirely as it absolutely has improved my number of hours on my feet - a huge gain that still persists - even if during crashes it temporarily melts away against the onslaught of CFS.

Sigh.

I hate life.

A stupid game. With stupid prizes. That I don't enjoy playing.