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Fog
It’s Friday night… it was a long week. It’s been a long summer. I’m tired. Literally. My brain is exhausted. Â Bipolar has been running wild and dancing naked with anxiety and my brain is wearing out… which is not a great thing. Â My sleep has been improving but it’s not perfect, and not enough to help my brain yet.
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Post-anxiety Anxiety
Because anxiety is a spoiled asshole and isn’t satisfied with only appearing in anticipation of and participation in events, it must also throw itself into the aftermath of events. So… I rode the light rail today. Â It was very stressful, but mostly only in my mind, because in reality it was extremely easy, I had no problems, the things I anticipated being challenging… weren’t… the only issue I had was finding the right floor and room for my conference (stupid giant hotels with terrible signage). Â The conference was fine. Â Getting back home was fine, other than getting seasick (trainsick?) Everything was fine. Â I had plenty of time, everything was easy…
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Adventure
Anxiety doesn’t believe in adventure. Â Adventure is not something that exists, because adventure requires not knowing what will happen next, doing something you’ve never done before… Â But with anxiety, that isn’t adventurous, it’s torture to be avoided at all costs. Tomorrow I have to ride the light rail to downtown (public transportation). Â I have ridden the light rail a grand total of twice in my life, and both were with S, and S is all competent and knows where to stand and which platform and how to get tickets and when to get off. Â I just had to follow along. Now, I have to do it alone. Â Tomorrow.
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Manic – Part 2 – Moments with Sir
For someone’s birthday… since she wants to know… and because I keep fading to black… Sigh. Happy birthday! This is the second half of Manic. *** The fog of dreams gives way to a replay of last night across the back of my eyelids. I groan and throw my arm across my eyes. It does nothing to stop the flood of memory and I pull my pillow over my face. Sir tugs it away and I cover my face with my hands. “What?” I can feel him shift in the bed beside me but I don’t move my hands. “Me!” He shifts again and I feel his fingers close around…
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Bruised
I survived the night, as did our relationship. Â I probably should be old enough to know that it will, and not indulge myself in emotion and drama. Â But somehow, sometimes, things just… sometimes perspective fails and it’s just… universally terrible. I’m tired. Â Still. Â I feel beaten. Â Like I was in an emotional car wreck, and everything is bruised and sore inside of me. I had a good day with family. Â I came home and we had an okay evening…with my… with this family… Â My chosen family. Â I think we are all feeling bruised, though. Â All of us are kind of quiet and… introspective, I guess. Â It isn’t like we’re tiptoeing…
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Drama
So… just because I literally have no one I can talk to right now… Let’s post on my blog (that angst and masochism came back even sooner than I expected, huh?) Living with two partners, in a triad, has a lot of advantages, like… almost always if two people are losing their shit, the third one is able to be some kind of buffer/voice of reason. Â Which is a really nice perk! Except when that third person loses their shit, too, and then it’s not just having twice the drama of one partner… it is having an exponential quantity more drama.
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Out of Fucks
I’m tired. Â Really really really tired. I had planned a part 2 for my Manic post from yesterday… but… Â I have run out of fucks to give, so it’s not happening. I’m also so out of fucks that I am sitting in front of this blog just pissed off and don’t know why I committed to writing. Â Why I even want to write. Â Or what the purpose is for me of doing any of this. Nobody cares.
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Manic – Moments with Sir
I slip out of the bed carefully, hoping not to wake Sir or Devin. In the dark I can’t see either of their faces, but I hear no change in breathing, no rustle of movement. I pad, barefoot, across the room. The fan above creaks, sending a steady current of cold air across my bare skin. The door opens silently and I close it again behind me. I grip both rails of the staircase, nervous in the blackness of missing a step and breaking my neck, still mindful of how I place each foot lest the house creak and the subtle shift of energy somehow, metaphysically, stir Sir from sleep.…
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Sensory Processing
My depression has been better for the past several days (finding wood to knock on). Â Sir has been holding a fairly rigid “no screen time” rule during the day and I’ve been (mostly) following it, and I think it might be helping. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean I don’t have bipolar symptoms. Â Sigh. It’s nice not feeling completely deadened alternating with drowning with depression, but for several days I’ve been struggling with a different, fun symptom – sensory processing disorder.
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Book Review – Red Sister by Mark
A young girl with unusual abilities is sold off to a fighting operation and ultimately ends up in a convent for warrior nuns… Red Sister is the 6th book I’ve read by Mark Lawrence.  The first three books I read were the Broken Empire series (The Prince of Thorns).  Then I read the Red Queen’s War series (The Prince of Fools).  This is the first of a new series – The Ancestor.  It is also the first series that is set in a completely different world from the first six books.  Though the characters were completely different in the first two series, they were set in the same world and…