07 August 2012

Carrying on, wayward son

Last night: Sunday was a day off. Stayed up Saturday night until the sun came up, slept until late afternoon, then got up and made lemonade. Spent the rest of Sunday, and the first four hours on Monday, reading several short stories and two novels from iBooks. I actually made it to bed before the sun started coming up, but not much. I’ve always liked to read-- I can sit alone in a room with a lamp and a pile of books and be happy for a long time.

Today: slept until 1430, and took an hour or so after that before I felt like moving. Missed my morning and afternoon meds. Didn’t do much of anything other than read yet another novel. I don’t really read books, I devour them. With fiction, 300-400 pages in a day, no problem.

I am stuck in my apartment until I can get everything packed and find a place to go. Reading helps me escape, but lately it also helps me avoid what’s going on. I need one of the story characters to start talking to me and tell me to get up and get my shit packed. I still expect to be evicted, but my lease is up in seven days. Seems like it would be silly to evict someone who is moving anyway. (Right?) There’s an organization that runs a homeless shelter at night less than a mile from where I live now. Just in case.

I haven’t been eating. I’m losing weight. I don’t know how much, as I long ago got rid of my bathroom scale. Enough that I’ve been able to tighten my belt by two notches, and wear shirts that I couldn’t a few weeks ago.
Most of the reason is that I have no money, none at all. I’ve been earning pay, but I need to get all of my hours entered so I can get paid. I’m afraid to talk to my boss about it, because he needs to approve it. I try to find something to eat every day. This week it’s a choice between oatmeal and grits. (I actually do like grits, but with butter, a touch of salt, and pepper. I’m beginning to hate oatmeal.)

Getting ready for work is difficult. I have to move slowly, take one step at a time, talk myself through it. I make it, but I’m a few minutes late, lately. Tensed muscles, the floor moves a little, like a panic attack. Took me half an hour to get myself going once I got to work tonight. Once I took my meds and got some Mountain Dew, that helped.

There are times that things are ok, like when I’m at work and when I’m busy reading. I don’t include sleeping, because my dreams are more than a little disturbing. I’m a little worried about myself this week. I will not do anything harmful to me or anyone else-- I long ago made the decision to be alive and carry on. Hoping the apartment situation is resolved soon, that’s a huge part of what’s wrong. It has occurred to me that I’ve been fighting this battle for a long time now, and I’m having trouble holding my ground.

Side note:

I am looking into acquiring a PTSD service dog. I’m not sure if it’s a possibility. If anyone reading has any information or stories to share, please leave a comment.

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