The joy of duplicates

Somehow, last week managed to be a great week. An MOT pass for my bike, a theory test pass for me, a stunning red kite sighting at the swim (through that amazing glass roof, that floods the pool with daylight) and a bit of light work done in the garden – meaning that there are now pots of seedlings on every window sill.

And yet, this week, reality has reasserted itself. Having probably my worst episode of suicidal ideation since 2014, when I was sectioned. The physical pain isn’t helping.

I’m trying to spend a bit of everyday in the front garden with my next door neighbour, since that forces me to be out in the sunshine and be supervised. And, if nothing else, the dog likes it.

I also have my second last University deadline in week. The work is inane and I’m struggling to fill the word count but it’s distracting me from the bad thing.

In terms of my earlier scale, this is somewhere between a type III and a type IV on a background of very distressing and insistent type II.

I may have to codify a type IIb, which is “I am keenly, physically, aware of my pulse and where all of my arteries are, for some reason especially the ones in the top of my feet, my femoral, and my radials.” Since I’m getting that too.

I’m safe, just miserable and not sleeping properly. Haven’t got to sleep until gone five for the past few days, and still getting up at about ten. Not good for me, and feels like I have no control over my sleep cycle, which is distressing in its own right, especially since waking up means spending two to three hours lying completely still, semi-conscious and confused and in a lot of pain, before getting the mobility to take my morning medication.

And the pharmacy have been late with my medication again this month. Supposed to be due yesterday, they swear that they sent it off this morning, so I’ll have it by Friday. It’s fine, it’s not like I need my medication to function at all and have anything approaching a quality of life, right?

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One thought on “The joy of duplicates

  1. Oh very rough indeed. The sleep issue is very troubling – not for nothing did Macbeth refer to:

    “Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,
    The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,
    Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
    Chief nourisher in life’s feast.”

    Do hope you come out into the light soon.

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