antiquated greek fire-thrower
I wake up today with a killer alcohol and resin hangover. Like something I haven't felt in a long time.
And while that sounds very nostalgic it really isn't, it really hurts and thanks to multiple cups of New York coffee the hurt has only just subsided.
My friend with benefits came over yesterday, first time I've seen him since April - we were gonna meet in July but I was poorly sick - we had a nice time too. I cooked a standard chicken and veg stirfry and we had alcohol and chatted, did carnal things and got high.
Now I wake up with this hangover, and have to continue with my life.
We're having fireworks and a bonfire (minus hedgehogs) tonight round kB's.
Here's hoping this third week of un-wellness is an improvement over the first two.
This my sound like me being weird, but when I was laid up in CX back in 2008 for 7 days trying not to be too weirded out by my situation I was suffering post-op muscle and nerve twitches; this caused me to verbalise that there were tiny wee men in hardhats crawling around inside my nervous system like workers in a giant machine running diagnostics on the electrical circuits and replacing the breakers at certain key points.
Sounds weird I know but at the time it was the only way I could rationalise my feelings as my nervous system rewired itself in the face of such ginormous surgery.
Continuing with the "Dozer Analogy" (see Fraggle Rock for details) what happened on 21st Oct was the mental equivalent to Mount St. Helens.
My head just blew; and all these horrible feelings came pouring out of me unchecked and unstoppable and ended up making me feel that i had died in an emotional pyroclastic flow.
And now I feel that these same little men are having a terrible time trying to check the breach pouring invisibly out of my head. Think Katrina in 2005 and the breached levees and one helicopter dropping one solitary sandbag amidst a raging torrent.
Yelling to each other, armed with sticks, poles and sandbags trying to stem the flow of emotional blackness pouring out of me. Counseling is acting like a bleed-off, bilge pumps swamped with excess working 110% and still nowhere close to keeping the feelings checked and manageable.
Not until I find something that will stop the reaction.
Sorry.. mixed the analogies, now think of Chernobyl going critical. Although I prefere Mount St. Helens.
I'm gonna see Rob the councilor on Wednesday and hopefully a friend of mine (GH5) is coming over to hang that afternoon. Until then I just have to grip whatever I can as tight as I can and hang on.
And while that sounds very nostalgic it really isn't, it really hurts and thanks to multiple cups of New York coffee the hurt has only just subsided.
My friend with benefits came over yesterday, first time I've seen him since April - we were gonna meet in July but I was poorly sick - we had a nice time too. I cooked a standard chicken and veg stirfry and we had alcohol and chatted, did carnal things and got high.
Now I wake up with this hangover, and have to continue with my life.
We're having fireworks and a bonfire (minus hedgehogs) tonight round kB's.
Here's hoping this third week of un-wellness is an improvement over the first two.
This my sound like me being weird, but when I was laid up in CX back in 2008 for 7 days trying not to be too weirded out by my situation I was suffering post-op muscle and nerve twitches; this caused me to verbalise that there were tiny wee men in hardhats crawling around inside my nervous system like workers in a giant machine running diagnostics on the electrical circuits and replacing the breakers at certain key points.
Sounds weird I know but at the time it was the only way I could rationalise my feelings as my nervous system rewired itself in the face of such ginormous surgery.
Continuing with the "Dozer Analogy" (see Fraggle Rock for details) what happened on 21st Oct was the mental equivalent to Mount St. Helens.
My head just blew; and all these horrible feelings came pouring out of me unchecked and unstoppable and ended up making me feel that i had died in an emotional pyroclastic flow.
And now I feel that these same little men are having a terrible time trying to check the breach pouring invisibly out of my head. Think Katrina in 2005 and the breached levees and one helicopter dropping one solitary sandbag amidst a raging torrent.
Yelling to each other, armed with sticks, poles and sandbags trying to stem the flow of emotional blackness pouring out of me. Counseling is acting like a bleed-off, bilge pumps swamped with excess working 110% and still nowhere close to keeping the feelings checked and manageable.
Not until I find something that will stop the reaction.
Sorry.. mixed the analogies, now think of Chernobyl going critical. Although I prefere Mount St. Helens.
I'm gonna see Rob the councilor on Wednesday and hopefully a friend of mine (GH5) is coming over to hang that afternoon. Until then I just have to grip whatever I can as tight as I can and hang on.