Down the drain

This must be the real battlezone for my infection. Everything else was preliminary. This is the big fight, where my body throws everything into shaking this fucking thing.

Because I’m tired.

Ever so tired. And bed is seemingly like a really wonderful place right about now. I have slept a ton already and I still want more. I just want to curl up in my nice warm bed and drift off. Bed seems so warm and friendly and inviting right now.

And that’s strange. As patient and loyal readers well know, my relationship with sleep is fraught with complications at the best of times, and as a result, sleep is something I rarely relish, let alone look forward to. It’s something I do because it needs doing, or because I literally do not know what else to do with myself. But even when I am very tired, I don’t look forward to sleep. I am craving it on an emotional level. I just do it because I know it’s needed and it will help.

So viewing the prospect of sleep with delight is quite rare for me. I am usually the sort of person (namely, a bit of a dick) that says you can’t say you enjoy sleep, because you are not awake to enjoy it. The best you can say is that you enjoy the idea of sleep, or the things leading up to and/or following from sleep, or things associated with sleep.

But saying you enjoy sleep is like saying you really enjoyed your open heart surgery. No, you didn’t,  you weren’t there!

But at the moment, I can dig it. I am pretty sure there is more than merely the wish to fast-forward life that my depression makes me crave. [1] I honestly don’t feel that way, at least not right now. I would rather be awake, playing my current game (Shadow Warrior 2) or hanging out online or something.

And yet, I know that after I am done blogging (warning : may not make wordcount). I will go right back to sleep until it is time to get up, show, and go to FRED.

Oh well, At least the other symptoms have tamped down a little. My lung are heavy but I am not doing a lot of coughing, and what coughing happens is usually due to my runny nose running in the wrong direction. And the runny nose is less severe than before.

But I am weak, short of breath, and feel generally unwell. I suppose I should be hoping the crap in my lungs would break up so I could cough it up and be rid of it. That way I would get the lung capacity back and not feel so tired and weak.

But I am so tired and week that coughing up phlegm seems like too much work.

I am less certain than before that I will make class tomorrow. Things have gotten a little worse, overall. Plus I will be going out into the wintry cold tonight, which might not be a wonderful idea, but fuck it.

I will take my chances. If I stayed home tonight, it would cause a bunch of problems that I am too tired to even think about. Not the least of which would be the depression that came from not being with my friends.

Still. I might have no choice. I will make the call at around 5.

Well I am all out of things to say, I guess I am done for the night.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

 

 

Footnotes    (↵ returns to text)

  1. Because remember : sleep is the next best thing to being dead!

The long slog

Bleh. I am still ill, and it makes life cruddy.

It’s nothing severe, or even moderate. It’s mostly moved into my head now, although I can feel there there’s still gunk in my lungs that I will likely be dealing with for a long time.

Won’t that be fun?

Anyhow, it’s mostly just a runny nose and a general feeling of malaise right now. I am hopeful that I will be sufficiently recovered by Monday afternoon to attend class.

Luckily, if that turns out not to be the case, the class is one where I could miss one and and it would not be that big of a deal. It’s just Producing for Writers, and while it would kind of suck to miss the last film production meeting before the film gets shot next Saturday, I am not all that involved in that shit anyhow, so I doubt I would miss much.

I do need an actual plan for the food, though. I have 10 hours minimum to cover, and while that only translates to one actual meal, we will also need snacks and drinks.

I am pretty sure I can pull it all off for $60, maybe $50. Depends on how good a deal I get on the pizza. I know that I want to get at least a little wacky and creative with the snacks so that it’s a little more than just junk food and juice boxes. Not sure how much that will add the the tab. We will see.

Sure, it’s a crap job for being my only duty, and a total waste of my amazing talents, but I am determined to do the best I can. Both for my own sense of honor and professionalism and responsibility, and because I want the others in the group to go away with the impression that I am awesome and that they might have made a mistake by not including me in more of the production.

Long shot, I know, but it gives me hope. Then again, I know why they don’t want me around and it is either all my fault or the fault of my depression, depending on how you look at it.

Depression can be so ugly.

I still have times when I lose touch with why I do…. anything, really. Out of nowhere, I lose the beat, and until I get it back, I am lost. Dead air. I am disconnected and scared and completely without motivation or direction.

Sometimes, it’s so bad that I don’t even know where I am or what is happening. I suddenly have to reconstruct what is going on according to the clues available to me.

This times are usually fairly brief, thank goodness. If I was like that for more than ten seconds, I am pretty sure I would go completely insane, or at least freak out wholesale.

Emotional and mental reality should not disconnect at random like bad data service.

It’s like black ice. One second you are fine. the next you are spinning out of control with no idea why. If there was a warning sign, you missed it. All you can do is hold yourself together until the connection returns.

And that is all very draining. And it kind of fucks up any sense you might have of being safe and secure. That shit can happen at any moment and so I never know when I will suddenly be in freefall, waiting for my chute to deploy.

And when I make it to the other side of the chasm, I am both relieved and traumatized. Like an out of control car just barely missed me. I am glad to be alive but HOLY SHIT. What the fuck, man?

It’s this sort of thing that makes me wonder if my problems are deeper than merely depression. Maybe I have some kind of brain damage. It would not surprise me. My sleep apnea alone could have done all kind of shit to my overworked cerebellum. Throw in some diabetes and obesity, and it’s a wonder I don’t have dementia…. yet.

Or maybe I do have it, but it hasn’t done damage to anything vital yet.

Anyhow, I have had these moments of total disconnection for my entire life, as far as I can remember anyhow. And it’s something that is extremely hard to describe to someone, especially while it was happening. I have trouble describing it now and I am 43 and verbally gifted. When I was a kid…. how would you even go about explaining it?

“Mom, sometimes I get all confused and feel like I am completely alone in the universe and I can’t think and I don’t know where I am or what I am doing or why and it really scares me and I am pretty sure that it is not normal!”.

Something like that. But whoops, she stopped listening six words in and replied with only a grunt and I am so crushed that I never share anything like that with her again.

Which was, of course, the idea. Not consciously. But intended nonetheless.

When I write it out like that, it really does sound like some form of birth defect in my brain and/or skull messes with me sometimes. I have tried explaining it to my therapist, but he was totally overwhelmed by it and was not help at all.

Apparently, he has forgotten all his medical training (he is a PSYCHIATRIST after all) except the bit that lets you write prescriptions.

Oh well, it’s not like us crazies have a lot of choice in the matter.

I suppose I should try it again. Or try it on my GP, although I don’t have much hope there either. I seem to overwhelm him, too.

Guess I am just an overwhelming kind of guy. Nobody can handle me. And I am disinclined to tone myself down in order to get along. If I can’t express myself as I please, I would just as soon stay home.

Maybe that’s a character flaw, I don’t know. But I have insisted on being myself for my entire life, come what may.

I’d need a damned good reason to change now!

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.