Random Chaos

There have been big
changes. Truly, a great many of them.

I’m actually so exhausted that I’m having a hard time
doing this.

I didn’t sleep properly for several days because of
anxiety taking over my life, but it took over in the background, meaning that I
didn’t know a damn thing about why I was stuck awake, trying to sleep but not
being able to and instead spending an…if I’m being honest, kind of an inordately
long stretch of time playing Minecraft.

But here’s the thing: I didn’t mind that I was doing
it.

It’s not that I welcome the super late nights—I mean I
didnt plan any of this—but the fact is, I was able to sit down and focus
on quite a bit of gaming. I dug a giant mineshaft, and actually did a bunch of
infrastructure work on it—actual stairs, fences to act as guardrails along fall
zones on side mines…I mean I got lost at some point and I have had to build a
backup base because I surfaced somewhere that wasn’t my home island, but holy
crap did I get of work done on that game.

I even picked up FF14 again. I’m moving the main story.
I discovered a new class that I’m good at.

These are things that I have done recently, when I
officially became the only (alleged) human living in this apartment.

It’s just me, Tweedledee (Nanna) and Tweedledum
(Mowgli, but answers to Momo too) in this place. Well, and the spirits. Some of
them are ghosts. Some of them are other kinds of spirits. There’s borrower
activity that we keep an eye on at all times because stuff will go missing for
no damn reason other than to make sure that you’re paying attention to your
surroundings.

It is a weird feeling, being officially just me here,
being officially (technically) divorced. I spent a surprising amount of time as
a devoted huswife, and I don’t regret any of it. What I do regret is not
standing up for my mental care sooner than I did. I spent so much time on a
medication regimen that made me worse by the day. It made me more hopeless, and
it filled me with a rage that was disproportionate to anything going on. Add
this to the fact that I didn’t feel like anyone was listening to me, and I was
definitely not great to be around.

Okay, so I regret a couple things.

Anyway, that ended with me having a severe allergic
reaction to Depakote, and I just sort of…quit my brain meds, on the supervision
of my therapist.

I won’t lie: when the therapist asked me the last time
I felt completley hopeless, wanted to die, etc? I couldn’t answer the question.
I couldn’t remember the last time.

I know this is a weird time to say this, being on my
own like this now after being someone’s person, after living with the gremlin
who is still one of my very best friends to this day, after finding out that I’m
going to have to start the disability process over again because that First
Denial(tm) finally came in:

I think that things might be looking up at
last.

Gods, now that I’ve started to open up like this, I
want to go on and on and on…but I’m actually so exhausted that I
want to sleep so badly that the (extra) Vistaril and (standard number
single) Ativan that I took out to help slow my brain down enough to sleep look
welcoming, so welcoming.

The problem is, with the Prazosin dose I’m on, things
have one disadvantage. I had to get that dose increased, because I wasn’t
getting relief from the night terrors. This dose helped me sleep again (I mean,
at least until very recently); it kicked the night terrors and nightmares into
the middle distance. But…now I barely dream.

There aren’t words for what that realization did to
me.

And yet, I still must sleep.