Slowed

I'm not tired.

I'm not. It's nearly 1am and I've been working on a gargantuan creative writing project since 10am. I need a break and to focus on something else. So I pull out my knitting and start watching Critical Role.

*****

It's nearly 5am and I think I might be tired. I know if I stay up any longer, there's going to be hell to pay. So I go to bed.

*****

John wakes me up at 8 to say goodbye. I wake up nearly screaming. The panic is so overwhelming. I can't think. I can't talk. If John had been closer when waking me, I may have punched him out of fear. I stutter out a goodbye after trying to assure him that I'll be okay. Afterall, I'd only been asleep for 3 hours. Surely that's why I feel like this.

I try to slow my breathing, slow my heart, and eventually exhaustion overtakes me.

*****

I wake back up at 10, I think.

Maybe 10:30?

I'm not sure.

I just know that I feel a heaviness to my limbs. And to my chest. My brain isn't responding very well. Things feel slow.

At first it just feels like the usual morning fog. It should clear once I actually start moving. I should just be grateful that I'm not panicking again.

But the fog doesn't clear. It feels like my head is just full of mud. And I feel the familiar pull of despair. The monster in my brain is back.

*****

I do my best to force myself to do something, anything.

I try knitting some on my shawl. It takes everything in me to do 2 rows. My hands don't want to respond. I give up.

I lay down in the bed, computer beside me, trying to distract myself. Endless scrolling through facebook and reddit. I have to reread things multiple times for them to make sense.

Inside my head, a fuzzy sound is ever-present. Like someone left a radio on to static. Everything sounds like it's coming from far away. Even my thoughts. They have to try and find their way through the fog cloud the monster has unleashed.

I desperately need a shower.

*****

It's sometime before noon. 

I'm aware of pain in two spots. 

One in my stomach. One a little lower. 

Have I even used the bathroom today? How can I forget to pee? 

I tell myself to get up and do that. And to shower. I'm a disgusting mess. 

I can't. What's the point?

I sink further into the bed. And into my despair.

*****

It's sometime after noon. 

I've given up on the shower. But I need food. I'm aware of being hungry. I'm aware of feeling sick from not eating. 

I text Jamie, trying to give myself some accountability. If I tell someone that I'm going to do something, I should do it, right? I also don't want to be lectured. Doing the thing avoids the lecture. 

I finally crawl out of bed. I finally use the bathroom. One pain gone.

I try to talk to Alex. Try to tell her it's bad day and I'm not mad at her. The words are hard to say. My voice sounds harsh to my own ears. I don't know if she understands.

I look for something for lunch. I can't cook. It has to be cold. I don't even have the energy to operate a microwave. 

Cold chicken. 

Stale bread. 

Swiss cheese? How old is it? 

I don't know. I can't remember. 

I make a sandwich. 

Some chips? The ball of mozzarella John bought me?

It's not balanced, but it's food. 

I eat it. It all feels like ash in my mouth.

*****

It's sometime in the early afternoon.

I'm watching Critical Role. I'm aware that I'm laughing. And smiling. But I don't feel it. It's a mechanical motion, laughing because the people on screen are laughing.

I still haven't showered. I haven't brushed my teeth.

My entire body aches. My brain is creating real, physical pain.

Why? Why is this part of the monster?

I can't feel anything else, but I sure as hell feel this.

I keep watching.

*****

John comes home. Which means it has to be after 6. 

When did that happen?

The fog feels thinner. I can hear a bit better. 

I'm still filthy. Still disgusting. I can't let him touch me. 

But he speaks gently. He asks what I need. I tell him a shower. I need to feel clean. Maybe I can wash my brain while I'm at it.

He fixes the curtain, lays down the floor towel. I pause for a brief moment to just lean against him. He hugs me, despite the fact that I probably smell like death. 

He takes care of the dogs while I bathe. Prepares the kitchen for me to make dinner. We had bought food the night before specifically for tonight. It doesn't take much effort on my part. I think I can do it.

He washes and wraps the potatoes and puts them in the oven. Then he comes in the bathroom and keeps me company. 

I get out and comb my hair. I brush my teeth. I feel better. The fog is thinner still.

*****

It's sometime after 7.

I'm making dinner. It smells good. I want to eat. I think I'll be able to taste it now.

I even made dessert for us all.

I talk with John. It's hard at first, but it gets easier as I go. My mouth remembers how to make the words. I occasionally go lean against him, taking a moment to just feel safe. To feel grounded. To gather strength.

We sit down in the dining room, me at the computer desk, John at the table. I can't face going upstairs again right now. I need to be upright. 

I keep watching Critical Role while I eat. 

I actually laugh and smile. 

I can feel inside. It's still slow, a little dulled, but it's there.

*****

It's sometime after 10. 

Jamie wants to know if we can video chat for awhile. She's missed my face.

We do. 

I laugh, long, loudly, and fully. 

We make jokes.

Kate and I annoy Jamie with shitty puns.

The fog is gone.

*****

It's Wednesday. 

I wake up feeling okay.

But I know I need to rest.

It feels like after you injure yourself. You're afraid if you move too fast or the wrong way, the pain will come rushing back.

I'm scared the fog will come rushing in again. I don't want to live through days of it. 

So I rest.

I knit. I watch more Critical Role. I work on my creative writing a bit.

I still feel okay when John comes home.

*****

It's Thursday. 

I wake up feeling fine. 

I actually feel rested.

I may even feel happy.

I know the fog is going to return sometime. It always does. 

But for now, it seems to have gone back to prowling on the edges of my brain.

*****

Today is for writing. Today is for planning. Today is for catching up.

Today is for telling about my recent war. 

Today is for living.