My whole body is reacting to an earlier painful nausea attack. I'm sobbing silently, unable to see through my tears and yawning - both non-stop. I've reached a breaking point that I didn't know was there.
Watching "The Vicar of Dibley" Christmas specials to try to distract myself. The sobbing calms so I'm just crying silently with much less yawning. This is not a good night. Dizzy spell to kick my sad sick ass. I love my friends. I'm so skewed - thinking back over the past few years is enough to explain why my PTSD is raging and the truth is some things are starting to settle down in my life but piled next to the bad there's no doubt a breakdown is due.
The holiday season is rough normally. This year is the year I was divorced. Our first "child" was Purrbarella and she was my nurse cat who kept careful watch over me and her sudden unexplained death happened. I've had many money problems and my insurance was nearly cancelled. My illness has continued to cause a slow but steady worsening of some of the problems. The pain and nausea not only hold sway, but also keep increasing.
An example of recent up-and-down stressors: We had a small recent battle with fleas that we luckily seem to have won. But the battle kicked me around with huge bites all over my legs. For somebody in my condition? Bad, bad, bad.
But Will seems to be working out as my roommate/assistant and is helping me in a myriad of ways. But to finally have found somebody not psychotic or drug-addled or just very incompatible has helped me. He's still learning a lot, but he is good at what he already knows and he is a quick learner. I think he's a good person and a good friend. We aren't friends...but we have enough in common that living together is a plausible pleasure. We are not physically attracted to one another and that is also for the best.
Exhaustion has me in its grasp. The crying has ceased. Writing about these problems acts as an outlet apparently. I'm thinking about the past and I miss Sterling Forest Renn Faire and Ludlow Street Cafe and the streets of Dublin. A good thing? I have those memories to remind me of another me.
My arm fell asleep. So should the rest of me.