Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #836
I still had a bit of time after writing to you and getting ready yesterday, so I decided to settle my nerves a bit by doing an apnea table. This is the one that was generated from my most recent Personal Best attempt:
A table like this helps the body to adjust to higher and higher levels of carbon dioxide in the blood. The burning desire to breathe that we feel when we hold our breath for longer than what's comfortable is not the result of low oxygen; it is the result of high carbon dioxide. This is a carbon dioxide apnea table; if you practice a table like this, with the hold times generated based on your Personal Best, then your body will adjust your blood composition until the burning desire to breathe doesn't occur for this length of time.
Part of doing this successfully is being in a comfortable position where all muscles can be perfectly slack. It's important to scan your body for any tension that might be held unconsciously, and then consciously unclench. I notice that my face tends to want to scrunch up when I'm doing an apnea table, so I have to focus to make it unscrunch; any muscular activity will consume oxygen, which will make carbon dioxide build up faster. We don't want that. So we learn to relax.
Then the contractions come. When carbon dioxide levels get high enough, the body will force the diaphragm to try to inhale and exhale, even when your glottis is closed. This is called a contraction, and it's an uncomfortable sensation. But in order to successfully practice the apnea table, you have to maintain your hold through the contractions. You have to simply relax while allowing your body to do what it does, without trying to stop them, and without getting frightened by the unpleasant sensation. Because that's all the sensation is – unpleasant. It won't hurt you or your body none, so long as you're practicing within what's reasonable for your Personal Best, and as long as you're not practicing too often; once every couple of days is enough. Once every couple of days is safe. So I'll look forward to doing this again on Sunday.
...That said, this time, I only had a few contractions, towards the end of the last three cycles. It still feels a bit too easy. Maybe I should try another Personal Best attempt soon...
...Back when I was doing mermaid training regularly, the highest Personal Best I've gotten up to for a breath hold was 4 minutes and 30 seconds. I wish my rib injury hadn't taken away my ability to swim the way I used to; words can't even begin to express how much I miss diving for shells and cool rocks in the deep waters of lakes, how much I miss chasing after fish and turtles, how much I miss seeing giant green castle-like structures made entirely of algae...
Well. I can't do any of that stuff anymore, unless I wanna fuck myself up and be unable to move from the pain for a few days. I don't know that I'll ever be able to, again. But I can show you the things I saw when I was training. Here:
https://www.instagram.com/merrowauryn
...I wonder if you like to swim...
Well. I got to the house I serve at around 2pm yesterday, and was immediately tasked with kitchen duties. But there were no leftovers, and nothing was thawed for me to prepare, so... Rb suggested that I make lasagna – one meat, and one vegetable. So I did:
I followed the package instructions to cook it from frozen. And it must have been pretty good, because the people I serve all wolfed it down:
I scrubbed down the kitchen. Went home. Went to bed. Woke up at 5am to do it all over again.
But, ya know. This morning, I woke from a dream where there were mallard ducks close to me, swimming in some waterway. I was trying to take pictures of them. Y'know... for you.
...You're in my thoughts even when I'm sleeping. It's kinda nice, but also... it kinda aches, because you're not here...
…
Well. Though the dream I woke from was nice, I'm sad to say that today I'm a bit of a zombie. I think I must have changed my sleep time around a bit too abruptly, because at the moment, I'm sluggish, cranky, and... occasionally a bit dizzy. It's a little hard to move around and stay focused. Nonetheless, I went in today, got the one who likes outer space cleaned up and dressed and ready to go, and then made breakfast:
The pantry is... a little bare, actually. So today, I made Cream of Rice. There was a bag of thawed frozen blueberries in the fridge, too (no yogurt, sadly), so I pureed them and threw them in there, along with a spoonful of peanut butter to get them some nice protein. I guess it must have turned out well, because even the one who likes outer space devoured it in no time flat, and he usually is a bit more picky than the others.
I helped Mm with transport after that. I was really surprised when, just as I was going back into the front door of the house to get more people, a big fat brown rabbit jumped out of the bushes right in front of me, and dashed away; I was startled, and the others laughed because it was pretty funny, actually.
We got the folks to their weekday activities. Then we got back, and I finished the dishes, cleaned up the mess I made of the kitchen, and... now I'm here, writing to you, and hoping to go with J soon to some nearby place to get snacks, because there really is very little here. Normally, the pantry is well-stocked, so... I'm not really sure what's going on. I hope I'm not put on kitchen duty for the second half of my shift today, because... the house manager is not here, and I have precisely zero clues as to what to prepare or how I'm gonna get it done and also their lunches prepared in time...
Well. I suppose I should stop writing here. There's not a whole lot more rattling around up inside the space between my ears. But before I go, have a couple more of the wishes I breathed to life for you recently:
I love you. Even on days like today when I feel like a partial zombie, because my love for you doesn't change based on my physical or mental state. It is a constant thing, and it will persist long after the defective meat vessel that holds me is gone. I'll have faith that you can feel that certainty, somehow. I'll have faith in your safety. I'll have faith in your eventual return home.
I'll write again tomorrow, most likely in the evening, after the workday is done.
Your friend, Lumine
