Words are... those word things.
I'm not sure how it happened or why, probably something post-ictal, but... yeah, who the hell knows.
Early this morning, Adam and I were picked up by Charlotte and taken to our dentist for Adam's first tooth implant. After that, Charlotte took us back to Big Lots and bought me the memory foam bathroom mat I had been craving. Once we were home, Adam picked up his car from the auto shop nearby, where he had gotten an oil change among other fixings. Adam and Charlotte then went to work fixing our old dining chairs, making new cushions and spray painting the metal parts gold. I was feeling particularly sore and pained, fibro-flared and spastic and weak.
I went upstairs, to the laptop, did my usual online things like webcomics and blogs and research. Felt hideously fatigued and drained beyond description. Let myself fall back against the arm of the couch. The clock read 3:45 when I closed my eyes, just for a small nap. I opened my eyes, and the clock read 6:45. Stunned and confused, I scrambled to check all other clocks until I was assured that it was three hours later. How could I have slept on a couch arm for three straight hours? It felt like a seizure blackout. I might have even done things during said supposed sleep. I do that, sometimes. That's what the extra Klonopin is for.
Then again, no surprise.
I have been severely stressed, emotionally compromised, shocked and stunned, struck over and over by strange incredible waves of euphoria and relief and worry and confusion and elation and ecstasy and a sort of sick sensation. Waterfalls of shock and sensation and emotion pouring off me to pool around me, cracking and fragile and stripping me until I'm shivering. Over a year of waiting and fear and worry and uncertainty and insecurity and being outside my comfort zone too many times, stress and anxiety and terror and depression and gasps for thin air and nightmares and the abyss of the most unknown things waiting to swallow me. I don't remember things that I did a day before, or I run on pure impulse, instinct, and emotion. It may happen again once the disability money is in my account next month or the month after. I have never experienced this before. Those who have been there assure me that it is common and that I am definitely not alone. I am very glad for that. I want to cling. I have told my friends, "I may cling to you, I may beg you to tell me what to do." Having the thing that I've been fighting for is so huge that I can't see beyond my own hand right now. I am so small and this is so big. My doctors know. My lawyer knows. They will help me. They promised.
Early this morning, Adam and I were picked up by Charlotte and taken to our dentist for Adam's first tooth implant. After that, Charlotte took us back to Big Lots and bought me the memory foam bathroom mat I had been craving. Once we were home, Adam picked up his car from the auto shop nearby, where he had gotten an oil change among other fixings. Adam and Charlotte then went to work fixing our old dining chairs, making new cushions and spray painting the metal parts gold. I was feeling particularly sore and pained, fibro-flared and spastic and weak.
I went upstairs, to the laptop, did my usual online things like webcomics and blogs and research. Felt hideously fatigued and drained beyond description. Let myself fall back against the arm of the couch. The clock read 3:45 when I closed my eyes, just for a small nap. I opened my eyes, and the clock read 6:45. Stunned and confused, I scrambled to check all other clocks until I was assured that it was three hours later. How could I have slept on a couch arm for three straight hours? It felt like a seizure blackout. I might have even done things during said supposed sleep. I do that, sometimes. That's what the extra Klonopin is for.
Then again, no surprise.
I have been severely stressed, emotionally compromised, shocked and stunned, struck over and over by strange incredible waves of euphoria and relief and worry and confusion and elation and ecstasy and a sort of sick sensation. Waterfalls of shock and sensation and emotion pouring off me to pool around me, cracking and fragile and stripping me until I'm shivering. Over a year of waiting and fear and worry and uncertainty and insecurity and being outside my comfort zone too many times, stress and anxiety and terror and depression and gasps for thin air and nightmares and the abyss of the most unknown things waiting to swallow me. I don't remember things that I did a day before, or I run on pure impulse, instinct, and emotion. It may happen again once the disability money is in my account next month or the month after. I have never experienced this before. Those who have been there assure me that it is common and that I am definitely not alone. I am very glad for that. I want to cling. I have told my friends, "I may cling to you, I may beg you to tell me what to do." Having the thing that I've been fighting for is so huge that I can't see beyond my own hand right now. I am so small and this is so big. My doctors know. My lawyer knows. They will help me. They promised.