Just a difficult day

Everything was going so well for quite a while. Each time it gets worse it catches me by surprise. Every time I hope it’s the last, but then it never is. I got used to being always tired, always sleepy, as if all my energy got sucked away. The pills make me functional just enough, on a mediocre level, when telling dreams apart from reality is not so obvious, and you drift away during the day when you’re supposed to stay focused.

The low blood pressure kicks in sometimes so hard it’s difficult to breathe and stay conscious. A lay down is a must for your heart to not implode. At least that is how it feels like.

After 20 hours of this dreamlike state when nothing is in focus, the effect of the meds is weakening and you become alive again. Suddenly you have the energy, you want to play, to create, do just anything but go to bed to wake up to this slowness and staleness. It starts to be very difficult to take the meds on time. Anything just to prolong the state of being alive.

And that’s how it really started, at least so I think, since I do not really understand the nature of what is going on, I can only speculate. The doctors sometimes give a vague explanation, but they sound just as unsure as I am.

I don’t want more medication. But then when they wear off, when episodes come back, I realize I cannot ever let myself stop taking them.

I gave up on university for the sake of my health, I do not want it now to become the reason I would have to give up on anything else in my normal day-to-day life. I have a job that I like, I am able to sustain myself, I just moved in to my own place. It’s beautiful, and my life is amazing. But the monsters are never sleeping, just waiting for the right moment to show their faces.

It starts with minor things. A clock ticking. Taking a bath, and hearing my Love pacing around the apartment. I message him to ask if he is okay, as it’s the middle of the night. He responds that he is in bed. I am too afraid to leave the bathroom, so I stay in the bath for couple more hours. I cannot stop scratching my legs. I can feel blood on my fingers. Anxiety fills me, I just have to keep scratching to cope. Eventually I realize I need to take the meds that are in the living room, and I have to go to bed tonight. Petrified, I open the door. No more sounds, nobody there. I feel a presence just behind the door.

The clock is still ticking. I finally go through, there was no-one behind the door.

I realize we never had a clock.

Instead of takin the meds I sit at the PC, and start browsing things.

Following an impulse I go on a shopping spree. It is so idiotic. But I cannot stop. I feel like all the pretty things I see I must have this instant. Bird brain sees the shiny.

I want to put on a makeup, dress nicely. I could do so many things. I could cook food for the next week, I could finish up the moving, do so many chores, and then I could have a personal party, and just blast the music and dance. I see the sun coming up. I realize I have work today.

I want to do well, to be responsible, take my meds and go to sleep. I have work, and without the absurd amount of 12 hours of sleep I am not functional. But I cannot do that. Something bad is going to happen if I lay to bed. My Love is sleeping, safe in the bedroom, but outside of bedroom there is inexplicable danger. I need to guard my home. I guess I can just sit there and at least write it all out.

I need to stay awake.

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