Bork Slowly Borking

I've said it before. I'll say it again. This blog is not really for consumption. Not designed to be read. It is just part of the back of my brain, talking into the void. A narrator of the Truman Show. Its content is... not great. Dark. At times brutal. It dances with nihilism in a very real and awful way. And its author, me, is not entirely sane. Or balanced. In a way that's conducive to trip happily through a human life. Corrosive. But not through being mean, or hating.  Just. From looking too deeply into the meaningless of existence. Being. Truthful. Even though sometimes thats an utterly stupid thing to be. And a good dose of shitty chemicals swimming around my brain only allowing me to see grey instead of the colours of a spectrum. It is all, perhaps, subjective. Perhaps those that see the happy colours of the rainbow are deluded. And the realists simply see the "truth". There is no truth. Just subjective reality. Believe what you will, it's all bullshit a...

 Similar pattern yesterday. Started feeling ill early afternoon. Ok in the morning. Shitshow in the afternoon. Ate some dry toast for lunch, couple of hours later felt somewhat better. Well enough to go out for a dog walk anyway. Took out a bouncy Athena with Hazel and Poppy. Which was nice. Albeit I was somewhat subdued again. Not exactly feeling well. But. Not a disaster. Being unwell tends to take the wind out of your sails and dries up conversation. It all gets a bit more. Prioritised. Less chat. More concentrating on not throwing up. By late afternoon, early evening I was ok again. So. On the scale of things. Yesterdays bout of unwell was... lesser. Noodled with some art. Played games with Dan. Got a message from my brother whilst out in the car. No. Can't wait. Urgent. Mom is on final watch. Meds withdrawn. Care home said if you want to see her, see her, right now. Rules for visiting hours et al dropped. Don't wait til tomorrow. As of today. No news. I can only assume no ...

 I did not rally yesterday. I did the opposite. I was ok for the first half of the day, but by mid afternoon I was increasingly meh. Had lunch, decided to take a nap to see if that would head it off. It did not. I woke up after a 3 hour "nap" feeling worse, and that lingered all evening. A general malaise, nausea, feeling ill, tired, bleh. Hmmmmm. I think I might try a few days of eating as little as possible to see if that alters anything. I doubt it. As eating little also seems to make me feel ill. But eh. We will see. Last day off before work. I am not relishing going back to the god awful task tomorrow. Eh. It's ok. But I could so do with a rest. It has started to annoy me that I had to make that compromise and keep on working, yet a-fucking-gain despite very clearly needing a rest. Same old story. You'll always be sacrificed for a bottom line. Like I didn't learn that enough at a corp. Anyway. Couple of weeks and I am off for a month. Even now I am doubting m...

 Yesterday wasn't too bad of a day. For me. On the whole it was alright. Which is quite something. I cleaned the windows after the hitch the other day. Was alright. But by the end of it - not a huge or physical task - I could feel the nagging of burn out. Which is no bad thing. I actually got a warning. On time. So I rested. And was ok. Of course. You could also look at this as, holy shit dude, what's wrong with you that such a small task burns you out. Yeah. *spooky hands* CFS ! If it's not obvious I am still having massive problems accepting that diagnosis. It just feels like bullshit. Part of it is how sketchy it is. It's not a simple I've broken my leg, rest for 6 weeks, fixed. It waxes and wanes. Manifests in a hundred ways. Burns you out. Blah. It's. Bullshit. The symptoms are bullshit - hard to pin down into any kind of pattern, widespread, debilitating. The diagnosis is bullshit. The equivalent of Ghosts In Your Blood. Anathema to an IT dude like me. I...

Yesterday was eh, ok, approximately speaking. Not great by a long shot, but eh, copeable. I spent most of it staring into space. No motivation to do shit. Like anything. No TV. No Games. No art. No noodling. Nothing. Zip. Zero. Nada. Just. Stare into space. And not in a relaxed enjoy the day kind of way. More a zombie like, stare at a single point kind of way. Hmmm. I had to go out for a chiro appointment, and then went for a walk with a friend in the afternoon. Which probably helped me out. But I got home and returned to staring into space. In the end I just leaned into it, relaxed and switched off. Fuck it. Stare at the wall like a lunatic. It's ok. We are more than familiar with acting like we belong in a nut house, right ? Ah ha, yes. Mm. Yes. Uncomfortably. Yes. At some point late afternoon I decided on a whim to wash the windows. The old Sahara dust had done a number on them and coated them with a red patina. Got the window washer gimmick. Got the bucket. All of Ares meds wer...

 Captain we are maintaining an altitude of ehhhhhhhh copeable. Heh. I can feel myself fluctuating in a day. Running along an edge of mehh fuck it not good, ill. Dipping in a little. Dipping out. But better than I have been. A bit like sitting under the sword of Damocles ( which to save you looking it up if you're not super familiar with it, is the old tale (related by Cicero) of someone thinking kingship must be sooo cool, I'd love to be the king, it's easy, fuck you, so the king (Dionysius) lets said dude (Damocles) be the king - but suspends a sword above the throne attached by a tiny thread, with the proviso that you can't get out of the chair. Upshot is dude learns, hey, shit, it's not great to be the king. The morale of the story being waiting for the other shoe to drop. The burden of responsibility. Anxiety. Worrying about the future. Yada. ) Such things if carried on too long are wont to embue you with a serious mental health problem. Anxiery. Phobias. Parano...

 Not gone. At the moment. Last few days have been rough. Super rough. The shadow of an ass kicking depression started to fall over me. Despite the rain of shit I try very hard at times to lift myself and do something normal. Post a video. Take a walk. Talk with someone. It's like swimming against a lava river. I went for a walk on Monday with Hazel and was very subdued. No spark. I felt like shit. My mood was shit. When both line up like this. It's. Very. Hard. But I was doing the thing. Taking a walk. In the sunshine. Because. Lava swimming.  For all of the difficulties with Hazel, one of the amazing things about her is that I can be myself with her in many ways. No need to hide any shit. Or rough edges. Or shower. Or put on a happy face. She gets it. She also goes through it. And we have a very good understanding that goes both ways. It is. A good thing. It also sometimes frustrates her. Because she actively sees when I put a happier face on things to others. And I get frown...