Still here. Still dreaming.
I’m a bit lost for words these days… obviously. Health wise my docs and I have embarked upon a mission to find a balance between treatment for the arthritis turning my spine into a grinding, dried out mess, and treatment for the narcolepsy vs R.E.M. disorder.
Anything that allows me to exist in a world with pain control that brings the constantly driving pain down to a moderately tolerable level (that’s really all I need. I can handle pain as long as I can move and breathe) is sedating in one way or another.
Issue: Anything sedating kicks the narcolepsy into high gear and makes my fight to remain conscious less possible. The meds that keep me awake tend to battle that for a few hours at a time.
Issue: Anything stimulating, such as the meds I take twice a day to keep me awake and battle the ones that sedate the pain and inflammation….well those little fuckers provide a supercharge to whatever causes the R.E.M.issues.
Anyway. Endless cycle later, I’m exhausted, forcing myself to sleep much less than I used to, constantly in pain, and back to the whole “let’s go into a sleep cycle while we’re awake (barely) at work and start dreaming while simultaneously working.” Of course the work is not focused and I feel like I’m moving under water. I’ll stare at my screen trying to make sense of what the hell im doing while I’m kinda of lost elsewhere, experiencing somehow, a multiple story behind the scenes.
This isn’t the point of this post though. That’s just what I’m wading through.
What is the point? It’s a mess of dreams and turmoil, relationships and confusion. I dream of people I love hating me, people I hate owning me, people I want tossing me aside and ones I am afraid of holding me hostage. I’m dreaming of my foster family in endless, continuous dreams that find a way to continue nightly and get progressively more distressing. I’ve dreamed my own death in constant loops and wake wishing it was reality, just so I can stop fucking dying when I close my eyes.
I’m tired and confused. Someone keeps calling my work with a blocked number, and then my cell with the same. There aren’t many people who have my cell. Is it you Drew? Maybe Mike is wondering if I’m alive or dead, although I doubt he would care.
I don’t know what’s going on. And yet I do.
More later. This is turning into another draft each letter I type.