Butterflies in my stomach throwing parties and inviting all their friends.
Oh coming home, you're killing me. Mentally, I feel much better this time, but physically, I feel infinitely worse. I would give anything to not be nauseous every second of every minute of every day. I guess I find the mental symptoms a lot easier to control, having gone through them in December and having understood that they were normal. It's easy to convince your brain not to freak out, but my body's reaction remains a mystery to me. Especially since I've tried so hard to control my sadness that the sick feeling in my stomach is increasing to take on the excess adjustment. I came home and dove right into my life, trying to ignore how desperate I felt, and while my brain cut me some slack, my body did not, resulting in unending physical anguish.
Yesterday I spent the day with friends and every now and then I'd have to let myself cry just to give my body some release from it's constant pain. Nausea is the worst feeling in the world. I've discovered that, upon examining my symptoms and trying to figure out any plan of attack that could possibly improve my body's state, the answer I come across is always: I need to be in bed, curled up, crying. That's the only way to bring balance back into my body's fucked up return to Winnipeg. Sometimes it will make compromises when I'm out, telling me that I need to drink soy milk, I need to curl up, I need to lay down, I need to stretch. The need changes, but there's always a need. It's getting ridiculous. Ricky put an Animal Collective album on in the car and the songs increased my melancholy so dramatically that I had to start scratching myself to give my mind something else to focus on than the dizziness. The constant, never-ending dizziness.
I slept all day today and hope to sleep all night and all day tomorrow and every day until all the nausea please goes away. I can't take it anymore, the dizziness and the weakness and the headaches and the way my limbs feel like spaghetti and the fact that I can't control any of it. My world is fuzzy and unclear and I can't handle living in it. It's almost been a week since I've been home, with no sign of improvement. I'm hoping that tomorrow is the magical day that I wake up feeling fine and settled.
I wish I would have let the emotions out instead. Crying is so much better than vomiting.