Stress.

Ooh look, a post. Don’t get too excited. But I’ll try to make it a good one.

As I mentioned way back at the beginning of this blog, I believe my ME was triggered by PTSD. Before I fell ill, stress was like crack to me. I didn’t need it, I didn’t even want it most of the time, but by god, it felt good, and I could function well under it. Deadlines excited me. Multitasking was my normal state.

I’ve noticed recently, that since I got ill, my stress threshhold is dramatically lower. Little things bug me a lot, like losing the remote or realising in the middle of the night that I forgot to take my antihistimine. Big things don’t just bug me, they send me into conniptions. But then, I’m not sure I even know what big stress is anymore. I think about the events that has sent me into a downward spiral, and they seem like drops in the ocean compared to what others have to deal with. I have a roof over my head, food in the fridge and a little bit of money in the bank. So why the fuck does not being able to understand the instructions on a piece of IKEA furniture make me cry, scream and throw things? Crazy stuff, this.

In other news, it’s summer, so I’m busy and barely have a minute to myself. Birdie is learning to ride a bike, pretty much under his own steam, I have a brand new bed, two weekends away planned, and I’m about to start driving lessons. The last of which terrifies me, because of the first part of my post. I can pretty much guarantee I’m going to cry the first, second, and probably 20th time I stall the car.

However, mood is good, general health is no worse than normal, sleeping patterns are very slowly improving, and I have just about enough energy to get the important stuff done. So if I’m quiet for another few weeks, it’s not because I don’t want to talk to you, it’s probably just because I don’t have a lot to complain about.

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Busy busy

I’ve got far too much going on to commit to writing a full length entry, but I just wanted to drop by and share a link to this excellent blog, My Fault, I’m Female. It’s still in it’s infancy, but I can see it becoming something really great. Pass it on!

Ow.

I knew I was skirting around the edges of overdoing it. I knew that. But it was a friend’s birthday, and I’d not left the house in over a week, so I went out yesterday.

It was the first time in ages that I’d misjudged my capacity so much that I had to leave significantly earlier than I’d planned to. I don’t wish that I’d not gone – it was fun, and I needed to see people – but dear God, I hurt today. The plan is for Birdie to go to a friend’s house for the day so I can recoup in peace. I have a busy few weeks on the horizon, and I need to preserve as many spoons as possible.

In other news, I appear to have bought a car. I suppose all that’s left now is for me to learn how to drive the darned thing.

I must, I must, I must

I’m wearing wrist weights today, and every day (for a few hours a day at least) until I drop 2-3 inches off my bingo wings. My skin issues are finally starting to stabilise, and I’m damned if I don’t want to show it off while the weather’s good.

Having said that, I don’t imagine the wretched things are going to do much good if all I do is sit at my desk playing on the computer. Still, every little helps. Probably.

I tried to do a lunge yesterday. You’d have laughed. I have a black eye today. The two incidents may be vaguely related.

Nobody here but us chickens.

I’m still here, wading through treacle as my mother puts it. The current heatwave, which is lovely of course, is not helping much. The skin issues caused by the B12 injections are being suitably exacerbated by sweat and sunburn, and despite pulling my own bed to pieces and opting to sleep on the floor for the next 3-4 weeks until the new one arrives, there are still bedbugs chewing on various bits of my body. I’m having to keep my fingernails short in case I make myself bleed, but it’s not helping with my self-esteem – my long, beautiful fingernails are one of my most favourite things about myself.

The weight loss has ground to a screeching halt. The difficulty being that while a good diet is a good start, I’m not able to exercise as much as seems necessary to shift the pounds. I bought an exercise bike a few weeks ago, hoping to at least have it there when I’m feeling up to using it. It’s since become a rather expensive clothes horse, and thing-to-stub-my-toe-on-in-the-morning. And frankly, I’m getting bored of eating lettuce and cardboard. I want to go back to needing a whole separate fridge for my chocolate and cider.

In other news, our resident cat poplation doubled recently, the additional smells of having an unfamiliar and elderly moggy in the house has upset my furball rather a lot. There are are so many smells in this house at the moment, and I don’t know how many of them are real, and how many are caused by my olfactory hallucinations.

That, and everything’s covered in fluff. Really. Everything.

Hope my handful of readers are well, or at least coping. I’ll be back with something a bit more meaty soon.

Hiatus

I’m feeling a total lack of writing inspiration at the moment. Don’t abandon me, I will be back – I just need to collect my thoughts for a bit longer.

Fingers crossed…

I think I might love my GP. She finally succumbed to my cries of distress regarding my sleep issues and has given me a handful of temazepam. The theory is that if I get one or two good nights sleep, it’s kick me into a different cycle, and I’ll be able to get a bit more sleep even when I’m not taking it.

I completely abused my credit card on cosmetics today, which was probably naughty, but unbelievably satisfying. I don’t spend anywhere near enough time on my appearance, as I usually don’t have the energy for it, and don’t see the point, but I have a serious nail varnish and hair dye habit, and sometimes looking good is easier to do that feeling good.

Still have a ton of stuff to get done before the party. I’m pottering through it at a reasonable pace though.