Exhausted. Again.

There’s definitely something not right, but we’ll have to wait for the routines of blood tests and investigations to work out what it is. All I known is that having woken at seven this morning, I’ve napped for a couple of hours and headed to the shops, and it feels like three in the morning with added gentle dizziness.

So, my plan is to plough on steadily, and hopefully its something that a course of B12 injections will sort out because this feels like the last time my body stopped making vitamin D.

The joys of diabetes, kids.

So, if I’m a bit short with anyone for a while, I apologise. In the meantime, work and two D&D groups, not to mention my wonderful partners and extended Entourage will keep me distracted and remembering to hydrate.

Speaking of D&D, and especially Eberron, I’ve been working up some Draconic Prophecy verses as colour for my groups – and will share them for any GMs who want to reuse them.

Good Start

So, I forgot yesterday that it was a Bank Holiday and that seems to be setting the tone for the week. Very little got done yesterday, but that’s fine.

This morning I woke up in excruciating pain and recognised it as a kidney stone. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after the heat and direct sunlight of the weekend and drinking at a barbecue round the ex-Mrs M house along with the Charleesi.

So so much for getting anything done today. I’ve mostly been semi conscious under the influence of some very strong painkillers and a hot water bottle. Oh, and many pints of water to help flush it through.

I think the worst is past now, but I’m completely wiped out. I have at least been entertained by the flow of pictures from Pride on social media. There’s lots I remember, but so much more than I saw while we ran the stall. It was a fantastic day.

Approaching Pride

Even with having a part in preparations for work’s presence at Pride In Surrey this year I’m still feeling unready – but mostly because I’m not sure how I’m actually going to get there. There are train and bus disruptions so I suspect I may have to get a taxi, and this just considering me. Somehow we’ll get the whole Entourage there

In the meantime I have a stack of flags in my bag to use as table cloths on the day. So that’s useful. I need now to start thinking of what I’m going to wear on the day and use as props. To be fair if these are the biggest worried I need to deal with I’ll be fine.

Then next week starts my Leadership training, which I’ve gained access to with my Network Chair role as well as my managing and mentoring a group of managers in the day job. While I’m not expecting anything life changing, I am looking forward to it, and it is already opening doors.

Now, if the anxiety and depression could all nip off down the shops and not come back, that would be helpful.

Out And About

The grand outing to Alton Towers has had, if you’ll pardon the pun, its share of ups and down with amazing rides, humour, silliness, and some mealtime stresses

The weather has been kind, with only minor showers once or twice, and comfortable temperatures and breezes. The banter and cheer has been great for recharging batteries and passing time in queues.

My anxiety however has been through the roof on occasion, mostly around mealtimes and things connected to that not going to plan. We’re also crammed a little sardine-like into two hotel rooms: four adults and three children. With no aircon it’s all a bit close-quarters.

Still, I’m choosing to be positive and reminding myself of all the positives despite by brain doing its best to sabotage me.

Brain Lies

In todays list of things my brain decided to turn into a storm in a teacup was a quick spin on the existential mortality trap of comparing where I am now with what my father was doing at my age. This was duly mixed with an unhealthy dash of “how am I 50?” and a selection of general inflated perceived inadequacy.

Then I shook my head, got a sense of perspective, realised I was feeling gritty from the heat of the day and therefore uncomfortable in my own skin, and had a good hot shower which helped immensely.

Nice try brain. Not today.

Migraine Day

I’ve not been capable of much today as I woke with a migraine, brought on by a combination of closed sinuses and general post-anxiety exhaustion (at a guess). So, that’s been fun.

At least I dont tend to get sick with it – I usually have light sensitivity, cold sweats, searing pain in the brain, stabbing pains in the eyes, and a fixation of some form of words or tune running on repeat very intrusively. This time around it was the opening piano loop to the Spice Girls/Slipknot mashup “If You Wanna Breathe My Sulfur

You’re welcome for the link, by the way.

Fortunately it hasn’t lasted more than six hours or so and I’ve been catnapping the rest of the day and hydrating quietly. Back to work in the morning.

Oh, That Happened

I had a chunk of memory fall out of the sky this afternoon and smack me in the back of the neck – which was already feeling stressed with my brain being in a weird space as it was. The chunk of memory was of being in hospital when I was first diagnosed with diabetes – or rather it was from a swathe of time early in the weekend that I just have not been able to reliably recall or reconstruct since all the excitement hit. This may be a bit graphic for medical type stuff, so if that upsets you please miss the next paragraph as it makes me squirm thinking about it. The chunk of memory seems to have been dislodged by reading an article today about a DJ who ended up in hospital with necrotising fasciitis.

I remember the fever and flu-like symptoms and my legs ballooning and turning red – I vaguely remember friends rallying round late night while waiting for an emergency appointment in the morning – I think? I don’t remember much beyond snatches of conversation, a blink of an eye and talking with a GP, then being sent straight to A&E. I do remember having at least one set of drips in – and my parents were there, and my being very concerned that something was even more wrong than the doctors knew. I remember that my legs were bound and wrapped in bandages, and yet as soon as I put my foot on the ground I was leaving wet dark yellow viscous residues on the floor in the shape of my feet – and I’m pretty sure the only reason I wasn’t shrieking was whatever painkillers were already in me. There was a sweet smell of rot – and I remember grabbing my dad as he was the nearest and saying – “All I can smell is rot, and I’m pretty sure its me.” And that’s the last I remember – at least until I opened my eyes with two surgeons standing over me and telling me they’d got my kidneys and liver working again, and did I know I had diabetes.

Sixteen years later, I still have very visibly dark scarring on my legs. I don’t know the details of what they had to do, but apparently they did it on the ward because there wasn’t any time left. We only really found out about what particular bug had decided to complicate the number of things that had all decided to go wrong at once by reading the charts and asking pointed questions. Apparently its the type of bacteria that lives for years in the body waiting for an opportunity to wreak havoc and could have been with me since my many bouts of tonsillitis as a child. No one knows, and frankly its not worth tracing back to find out.

My brain being what it is, I can feel and smell it all over again – even as a memory – as well as echoes of the pain, though that could just be the aches of being fifty years old joining in to spread the love. As I look down at my legs, it makes me ever more grateful both for the extra years I’ve had because of the swift actions of doctors, but also for the ongoing care of the NHS – even if it does sometimes feel like gentle bullying for my own good to keep me on the straight and narrow.

My brain has obviously decided that I can cope with this memory now – and perhaps its a timely reminder to not take anything for granted. I’m pretty sure my loved ones will say there’s little chance of my doing that – and that alone is something I’m grateful for.

I Tried To Have A Day Off

Last week was heavy going, for a variety of reasons that I won’t bore you with at the moment; and the tail end of the weekend was spent being anxious and tired and generally overwhelmed with life. It wasn’t until the early hours of this morning though that I decided I needed to have a time out. I had enough accrued time, no meetings booked in, and as far as I could tell nothing looming that couldn’t survive waiting another twenty four hours or so for my direct attention.

Eleven year old children, however, are no respecters of mental health time. I already knew the cub was coming over today, but I reckoned without the bright cheeriness and inquisitive soul popping his head round the door every half hour or so with some bon mot or repetition of a school in-joke that had him chortling and myself considering whether he actually needed both legs.

So I’m partially rested, and have done small household odds and ends and some grocery shopping without being tempted to look at my phone or log in to work email – so in the grand scheme of things it’ll do.

I’ve just had a text from Lady M to say she’s on her way home too. With the cub ensconced back with his favourite YouTuber streams and some chocolate milk I think the odds are good she’ll arrive back to a fairly intact flat. If I can just get this anxiety to give it a rest, that will be a great bonus.

One Foot, Then Another

I had to make a small confession today to boy s, and that was to let him know that I hurt myself during my anxiety meltdown the other day. In my distress I dug my nails into my left arm and back of the hand and raked at myself.

It’s a very dysfunctional grounding technique that I spent years getting rid of after I became very ill about twenty years ago. I’m deeply annoyed at myself for doing it again after all these years. At least it has only left me with scratches, and in this heat and humidity the itch of healing is irritating enough.

Being a Monday, I’ve also had work to distract me, so I’ve started back as I mean to go on, and done my best to balance myself while also supporting my staff. So far, so good. The irony of recommending EAP support for other people is not lost on me.

One foot, then another, then another, repeating as long as needed.

Recovery

I’m doing better today. This morning I was still a bit hazy and jittery – and various muscles felt like they’d been locked in struggle most of the night so that’s been fun in this heat.

In general then I’ve not felt able to socialise and my weasel brain has of course grasped on to that as another failure on my part. Objectively I know that it isn’t. Battling guilt over the strange turns my brain takes is difficult but it is part of being, well human.

Part of growing up with my background included a stoic mindset and reaction to what life brings. Not complaining but just getting on with it played a large part in the models around me, and while that is largely helpful in keeping my wits about me, it does bring its own stresses.

Being stoic in uncertain times lets me be a beacon of calm for those around me. It also fuels a leaning towards life as a service to those around me that I sometimes struggle to keep in a healthy balance. It’s something I’m actively prodding in my current counselling sessions. Anxiety over not meeting my own impossible standards is nothing new; kicking associated guilts into the long grass is a newer fight.

Well hey, isn’t self awareness a fun rollercoaster?