Living With The Enemy

Not been doing much writing of late... I've barely just been mindlessly going back and forth on the manuscript without much of an idea of what I'm doing. I wish it was because I have started an intensive IT course for SQL, but even that is suffering.

After all these years I am definitely tired of being "symptomatic", but right now I can just about claim to be "coping" ... And by "coping" I generally mean that I haven't as yet curled up into a catatonic ball for six months. I feel a bit "Can't Live If Living Is Without You" when it comes to my (... "condition"?... "illness?") depression - I've had it nearly all of my life and I don't think that I would know what to do without it hovering there in the background. But that is where I would prefer it to stay. Whenever it raises its ugly little head in my life, everything tends to descend into chaos, leaving me a quivering wreck that then has to pick up whatever pieces that are left at the end of it.

Being out of work (it's like no matter how hard I've tried, I get nowhere...) and stuck at home, it's not the best situation to be in - it's prime fertilisation for a relapse. Add to that horribly painful backache and sciatica (ironically brought on by sitting for long ours in the classroom every week for SQL course to get me back into work), making walking - and just about anything - difficult and painful as hell, and all that's left is a rather miserable Lel... Even my "Angel Walk" - walking from home to Angel Islington - that I try to do most days ends up compromised when it flares up, and there goes the one thing that makes me feel a little better.

I'm tired of being tired... No, exhausted... I'm tired of being up till 4am every night - despite being so damn knackered, I can't concentrate on anything, I feel rubbish enough to not even know what "self-belief" even is in theory, and I'm so run down with almost no appetite and no particular inclination to consume anything but coffee, as it's the only thing that keeps me vaguely functioning. I'm also ending up having to take painkillers rather regularly again thanks to my back, and that's the last thing I need to be reliant on when I'm feeling not OK with things. I have enough of a checkered past with codeine - the last thing I need is for it to raise its ugly head on top of everything else.

I also hate being hopelessly over-emotional, prone to unbelievable levels of hypersensitivity and emotionally-driven panic attacks, and I tend to stupidly believe that the pills can help can calm them down because they make me think I feel better. You'd think that after 20 years of this I'd have worked out that it does nothing but cause trouble, not make things better...

I really want to get back to "normal" (normal for me)... To be more than just about functioning, just about coping. I want to be able to walk out the house and not feel scared (agoraphobia can be really annoying), talk to people without feeling like they're being really demeaning towards me (it's just paranoia - they're generally not), talk to agencies and go to interviews and sound coherent and confident whilst doing so. It's always nice when these things happen, and I can do them all without having a panic attack or descending into paranoid tears.

Actually, what I would really like is to get my mind back so I can concentrate on things again, get obsessed/ passionate (depends who you ask...) about the things I love, get back to writing, actually enjoy my course and be able to do concentrate on it and actually understand it, actually want to play games again... I miss caring about my characters (in my novels, Skyrim, Fable), and I'm annoyed I'm not making the best out of my course that cost a lot of money. Not being able to take in the lectures and trying to read my notes and textbook with the words never being retained.

The demon needs to go back in the box... A bit tired of playing games with it though.

The Insomia-Born

So annoying. Finally get to feeling tired after virtually running ragged around Skyrim - but as soon as get head on pillow and buried under duvet, immediately end up feeling like have drunk entire vat of super-duper hardcore coffee laced with pro-plus pills. Eyes ping open, head starts buzzing, and black room is suddenly very irritating - not sleep-inducing whatsoever. Clearly I'm allergic to sleeping at night.

Partner puts head on pillow, goes out like a light. Pussy-Cat plonks himself down, spread-eagles like a flattened rug and immediately ends up in fairyland. Me? I get about as much sleep in a week as most people get in one night. If I'm lucky. And I'm not a particularly lucky person.

Apparently have been as such since foetus. Used to keep parents awake by kicking all night, then carried on in much the same fashion after being dragged out (and that was about 6 weeks after supposed "first" offered due-date - still late for everything, too). Only didn't do much kicking as scream till nearly blue, once born. Would still love to do that sometimes, but suspect it might be rather frowned upon.

Maybe I should try playing "My Boomerang Won't Come Back" again - it was apparently the only thing they had that ever used to work back then (and I'll assume parents weren't allowed to try chloroform), so it may work now via some deep-seated Pavlovian trick. Used to have whole tape of it back-to-back - suppose the equivalent now would be to get it on iTunes and just put unlimited repeat on it. Much easier to manage!

Some perverse part of me wants to see if it's actually still available... You never know. One day I'm bound to run out of every other option!

I wish I came with an off-switch, though. This is irritating, boring and simply exhausting. And there's only so much Skyrim you can play before you run the risk of believing you do actually live there. Especially if the exhaustion starts turning into sleep-deprived hallucinations and fragmented reality. Then you'll probably end up thinking you really have got dragons in the house when, actually, that's only just your cat. And he's not roaring, he's just snoring.

... Beware, beware - The Insomnia comes ...