I am alive! Long, rambly post ahead.
So. I did a thing. After 2 or 3 years on a waiting list of therapy, I got it. Good right? Ahuh...
A weekly appointment at 10.30 am is apparently my kryptonite.
It was fine at first, but I got utterly sidelined with the cumulative effect and the fact I wasn't able to reset my energy. But, I was determined like, I'd breakthrough.
Uh. That did not happen. All I could do was attend that appointment. For the first time since I started writing again post house explosion, I couldn't even write. I managed to not some ideas down. Carry on a few plots in my head. Still, even with my insomnia, I was stuck with my facemask on, desperately trying to get enough energy to eat, and occasionally failing even that.
After I had to take a break for a few weeks running for dental appointments and Covid Vaccines, I gained enough energy back to do that look around and reflect thing.
Hell, I might not have been perfect before this, but I enjoyed things. I chatted with friends. I lurked in the Stark Tower discord plotting new ideas. I got to write. I got to do real-world hobbies. I got to spend time awake with my partners!
So, after my vaccine and several days with a very high fever, I kind of decided. Fuck it. This isn't worth it. I have clawed my little part of this world out, and I am not going to lose it.
Sometimes you have to weigh up the cost-benefit analysis. What good may come from these 16 appointments was utterly stopper by the bomb dropped on my life. So I came out of my fever cave of blankets, had an incredibly hot bath and decided this wasn't working.
The early appointment alone was killing me; I am crepuscular by nature. Not being sarcastic there; this is how I have dealt with severe levels of insomnia since age 12. I tried being an average human that wakes up in the morning and goes to bed at night for decades, and it didn't work. I am most active after 11 pm, and I nap during the day. It's not a perfect fix; if it were, the Gold series would literally not exist as that is my Insomnia in a cape. However, sleeping at least once in a 24 hour period nearly every day is THE WIN. Being not awake at 10.30 am, but already at an appointment, where I was expected to be coherent? Weekly? With no variable illnesses? Even the stint in hospital I had was around me making these appointments... Not getting better from fall.
Honestly, I have no idea what past me was thinking, but after they went to 2 or 3 appointments and didn't feel too bad, they committed hard to this course of action. That was a mistake that I thought I had learned a long time ago, that assessing the work-life balance is critical. This might not be work, but it was the same thing.
So, How am I doing? Better. Not aces, but the Covid fever of doom made me miss last weeks appointment. The week before, it was the Covid.2 Jab and today I had the dentist.
And this morning, before my dental appointment, I started writing. My partners were over the moon. I am not back on full capacitor yet, but I am clawing my way back. Heck, I felt alive enough to prat about in the garden as my partner wanted to take a few pics of me given my pairing of BRIGHT TOXIC GREEN tights and lace trousers. I realised I hadn't set foot in the garden since this therapy thing started. My dog, Loki, was bouncing around like a loon bringing me every stashed ball he could find.
If anything gives you clarity, it's the excitement of a collie confronted with man balls, your partner's joy at you starting something you love again and actually feeling like a human being.
Ness is calling the therapy people when she gets the social confidence points required to deal with bombing me out of this whilst being my stalwart wall, so I don't get bullied onto the phone (hello, Hemiplegic Migraine) or guilted back into just trying a few more sessions.
It's not like my therapist was bad. He was cool. He dealt with this ADHD, Autistic, Severe Insomniac, Asexual weirdo and never once questioned any of these identifiers. I just don't have the energy to do anything back to back, week after week, at 10.30 am—even fun things.
So, I am probably going to sleep a lot. I am not back to my previous form yet; my Hubs is saying I made it out of the cave, but I still have Palladium Poisoning because apparently, I have infected his brain to think of things in Iron Man metaphors.
This is a bit all over, but I felt like I wanted to get it down. Especially for anyone worried about my sudden absence.
TLDR, the road to hell is lined with good intentions; sometimes the good thing becomes the bad thing, sometimes you lose yourself trying to do things the right way, and everything ends up wrong. Sometimes the right thing is the thing people see as wrong. All I know is that I wrote something for the first time this morning because of insomnia, and I couldn't be happier. My mind is starting to pick up speed again, this dense dog of confusion, exhaustion and pain is clearing, and I have goals.
Which I think is what really matters, right?
Oh, side note, some things did get done whilst I was busy being a zombie. After nearly 3 decades of waiting, at 33 (yeah, I've wanted to change my name a long ass time.) I got my name changed! So I can sign this off in a way that makes me smile. I dropped my old first name, and took my first middle name as my new forname. (I was, and still am, one of those ginormous name people.) I also went back in history and timestoned my surname. (So, I was named utterly after my dad. Literally, I have the female version of his name >.< but I wanted to keep that connection to my genealogy whilst not having my dads name.) Boom.
Enjoy the earlier mentioned pictures of me pratting about in the garden. I am a photographer. I do not know how to pose. What you are seeing is sarcasm 😅. (If you want to know where the fabulous tights came from, Google Snag Tights. They are truly a miracle and a gift from the Gods. They have actual sizes and don't tear after one wear, even if you are more leg than human. So you stretch and destroy tights by walking.)
- Morgan / M-Mac-C
