May 2

 Pains are dramatically better today. Albeit they are up and down. An hour or two of super knifey. Then it fades back down to "uncomfortable". This is part of the "smell" of this not being your typical pulled muscle or achey back. It can rise or fall dramatically in the space of a day, sometimes sticks around for weeks. It is, I strongly suspect, part of the background of an over sensitised nervous system, combined with systemic inflammation, all tied into the clown car of CFS and dysautonomia. The rise and fall of a system in motion, and constantly reacting to "attacks".

Meh.

In any case. Today is better. Mostly. Copeable with. Sometimes not. The exhaustion is also better. I can, rather dramatically again, now move, reach for water, get out of bed, walk around. And I don't have to think about it. I am not failing. And having to retry. The difference is bonkers.

And perhaps no brainer connected. I am less. "Final". Today. The spectre of an end retreats. Not far. Not gone. Just not as close. Quiet. But watchful. 

I did nap again today. Had to. And definitely had sleep apnoea today. I woke several times gasping for air. Not asthma this time. Perhaps this too moves with a rhythm to what the rest of my system does. Like tracking the phases of the moon. If this, then that. Except. Unreliable in patterning.

Today I have felt better enough, if not great, to get some Tea - I had run out - and make a chicken stew. Gasp. Making food. Somewhat rare these days. There was a cut price pack of stew vegetables at the supermarket. Not entirely what I would use for a stew, but eh, who can resist a cut price pack of pre cut veg. So that, and an also reduced pack of cut up chicken has formed the basis of a cut price chicken stew. It's trivial. The money involved is trivial. But the satisfaction from making something with veg on its last good by date, and same with chicken, and making something tasty is good. Salvaging the hopeless into the hopeful perhaps. I threw the stew ingredients in the pressure cooker relatively early. And then just walked away from it to let it do its thing. After the nap, and some time after that. A chicken stew. Sitting keeping warm for me. Nice. This kind of low energy, low maintenance food making is such a huge boon to me when I flake out, or have limited resources. There is no panic about things burning or boiling over. No need for me to maintain an upstate for the sake of food. I can collapse neatly. And it sits and waits for me. It reverses the usual interaction of you waiting and babysitting food. To the food waiting on you. Without any consequence.

I undertook this effort with a clear idea that I might be immediately reinviting another CFS crash - because, that's clearly what happened yesterday. This would be textbook me. Give me a little energy. I spend it. And crash. Good job. 

I have reflected a little on Hazel. Patience returned.

I need to be patient with her.

But also.

I need to be better at boundaries with her. For the most part I have offered her a completely safe open space. I think I need to change - at the very least - to having gentle boundaries. Firm in placement. But softly carried out. No wobble. Carry through. But low intensity. At the very least.

Interestingly. I got a response today. About her behaviour in the past. That has raised all sorts of red flags. Which. I am aware of. But. On my behalf. If someone is threatening you. Kicking down doors to get at you. Regardless of everything else. It moves from how to cope with that. To a. Absolutely not. Exit strategy for your own wellbeing. Unacceptable.

It. Is exactly the same pattern and warning as I had over my parents.

And. Notably. I have poor signal as to what a "threat to me" looks like. Or rather. I don't value it highly enough. Partly because my normal of what terrible looks like is very high - or rather, doesnt exist. My "values are skewed towards the unacceptable" apparently. Meaning. I tend to just cope with the unacceptable. Rather than call it out and make myself safe.

I am not clueless about this with regards to Hazel. I am very clear that in the past she has been slam dunk abusive. She almost never refers to this. It is. Avoided. And at the most extreme simply referred to as a "bad time in her life". Without any responsibility. Or acknowledgement that it's still a thing.

Anyway.

Whatever. Not going to get too deep into it.

Patience.

Overall. Although it doesn't seem to do me any good. I feel like I need to rest. Not for a week. Not for a month. Indefinitely. No work. No stress. Just. Detach. That's what it feels like. I have no clue if that would achieve anything. I *feel* like. This would be my only small sliver of being able to do anything for myself. Positively. Health wise. Mentality wise. But. I doubt it would actually do shit. Except relieve the immediate stressors. Which. In itself. Makes sense. Taking the weight out of the back of the dying car only makes sense.