Sunday, October 18, 2015

brought out the big guns

(No guns were harmed or fired in the making of this post.)

I didn't sleep well Friday night.  Not sure what caused what or if only correlated or not at all related.   The wave of depression hit me soon after I woke up (or maybe it had been building all night), and it started dragging me down.  Maybe the previous day was too happy, and Saturday had to be down to balance the natural order of the universe.  Or I just suck.

I reached out to a friend, but got no response.  Didn't feel like trying another.  I hate admitting I'm down for no apparent reason.  It's such a silly weakness.  I shut my phone off and hid away from the world.

I went outside to get some sunshine and vitamin D.  There I was, lying down amongst the palm trees, tears leaking down my face, and the sun disappeared into the clouds, just to match my mood or to say hey, whatcha' gonna do now, Wendy?  I stayed out for 30 minutes and finally gave up.

I came in and made myself a pretty umbrella rum drink.  It was after 12pm, and fuck it, even if it weren't, it was Saturday and I rarely drink, so it could have been 6am for all I cared.  I put in TWO umbrellas just to punctuate the fun-factor.  And only a splash of rum because I never drink and have no tolerance.  It was mostly coconut water.  Ssshhh, let me pretend.

Then, it was time for the last double-barrel.  That's right, a Dining Room Dance Party.  I cranked up Adele, 90s Madonna, Nine Inch Nails, and so many others.  That helped with my mood, but I was dumb and forgot that depression is sometimes a precursor to migraine.  The food cravings later on should have aroused my suspicions, but I was still trying to claw back the darkness and fed my body whatever it wanted, without thinking too clearly about why.

The pain started around 4pm, but it was mild, so my denial stayed strong.  I finally caved at around 8pm and took meds, passing out and getting a couple of hours of sleep before waking up in pain again.  I worked up my fortitude at 5:30am, after lying awake for hours listening to my audio book, to get up to take more.  I'm a dumb-ass and keep meds by my bed, but (here's where the dumb-ass part comes in) they were on the OTHER side of the king, which is miles away when moving even a millimeter comes with excruciating pain.  Usually, I sleep in the middle, which means they aren't convenient to either side.  Dumb-ass.  This time, Kitten was in the middle, so I was on the side, the wrong side. 

It's Sunday morning, and I'm functional, but still hurting, doing the bare minimum for both Kitten and me.  She may have to eat her shitty standby food.  And by shitty food, I mean her high-end kibble, instead of her organic raw food.  I probably won't wash my hair today.  It's a voluminous project on a good day.  That's why ponytails were invented.  I'll probably eat my standby food, too.  I have frozen meals stashed away for just such occasions.

I hate that I have to plan for incapacitated days, but not planning would be so much worse.  This is why I don't want to survive the zombie apocalypse.  I can barely survive now some days with all of my modern-day creature comforts, including TWO ice-packs, so I can switch them out when one loses its mind-numbing capabilities.  Mmm, comfortably numb.

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