|A Matter of Scale
||[Nov. 19th, 2008|02:26 am]
Kelly J. Cooper
How fucked up do I have to be to stop feeling guilty for feeling fucked up?
First, a general apology. I have been out of commission for a while - over two weeks, I think. If you were expecting me to do or say something, I'm sorry, I probably failed to do/say it.
The first week of November was very odd. I'd fall asleep and then wake up at odd times, in the middle of the night, unable to fall back to sleep for hours, finally doze off only to wake up for the day feeling exhausted. I slept on & off through most of Friday & Saturday, the 7th & 8th, utterly screwing my schedule such that I ended up crawling into work late on Sunday, the 9th, and tried not to stay too late.
On 10 November, a day I would have otherwise slept through, I went to the MFA with istemi to see the Karsh 100: A Bibliography in Images exhibit. (Highly recommended; doesn't require a special ticket; closes 19 January 2009, which really isn't all that far away, so go see it soon.)
Somewhere between then and the 11th, the exhaustion took over and I slipped into a really bad case of apathy. The random waking up (and feeling awake when I was awake) ceased and sleep came more easily than ever. (Normally I can't sleep again until I've been conscious for at least 8-12 hours.)
I slept through the 11th, got up for therapy check-in on the 12th (stopped at Wholefoods Market on the way home to pick up some cheer-the-fuck-up food - which didn't work, read a little email, then went to the monthly Somerville Garden Club meeting that night), worked at MYP on the 13th, slept through the 14th and 15th, worked at MYP on the 16th (12 hours, actually, finishing up a project), and slept through the 17th and 18th (today).
At therapy check-in on Wednesday, I managed to scrounge up a momentary feeling of embarrassment about how little I cared and how listless I was - just enough to mumble an apology before I was exhausted and didn't care again.
Unsurprisingly, she upped my dosage.
This afternoon, I wanted to get up & go over to Circlet with a stop-off to eat lunch at Seoul Food. I did manage to wake up, but I just lay there, unable (unwilling?) to get up. Neither the thought of disappointing ctan nor even the thought of yummy bibimbap could get me to care. I finally fell asleep for a few more hours until a stomach-ache woke me up. After having dispatched the pain's cause and despite it being 5-something-p.m., I jumped in the shower. I assembled a pile of clothes to launder. I read all the physical mail I'd received in the past week. Then I actually laundered the clothes! And dealt with the output!
Did a switch flip? Did I hit bottom and push off? Did the increased dosage kick in? Damnedifiknow. I was trying to NOT analyze it, to just experience it and let it flow through or around me. But it sucked.
Each of those days, there were things I wanted to do (besides sleep and watch TV until it gave me a headache, then sleep more) but I just didn't care. Calling friends, laundry, food shopping, projects, reading email, some editing work, visiting friends, celebrating birthdays, making it to the Davis Sq. farmer's market at least ONCE this year... none of it. It's as if the energy to exert the effort just wasn't there.
In retrospect, it feels like it was chemical - outside of my personality. But what do I know? It was kind of scary. It wasn't exactly seductive, more... easy.
Sorry if ya'll are tired of hearing about this shit.