#but inevitably the unending fatigue happens

[bunnyboy-juice]

i wish there were more options than "quit your job" to improve fatigue issues 🫠

[jesickachaos]

It has been a rough winter. I usually experience a little seasonal affective disorder every winter, and it often coincides with my usual depression pattern to give me a double whammy of bad, but between covid... everything, no holidays with friends or family, an excess of work because of WFH difficulties, losing not one but two pets within a month of each other at the end/start of the year, and being put back on medication to 'fix' my busted hormones that isn't fixing anything yet because they were so broken, my depression is the worst it has ever been.

I live to create things. Making things—whether it's writing or crafting—is what brings me true joy in life. And when my depression is bad, I can create nothing, which only makes everything worse. Usually I just spend the winter playing video games or catching up on shows, because at least that is an act of consumption, which is easier and often still brings me joy. But I haven't even been able to do that. I spend many evenings staring at the wall without even realizing it until it's time to go to bed. And despite an unending fatigue, I can't get to sleep. I run on 4, maybe 5 hours of sleep a night if I'm lucky, without even the ability to do something fun or interesting in the absence of sleep. I stare at the ceiling instead of the wall.

I've needed a solution for it for a long time, but because of our broken, awful healthcare system, I've never been able to afford to go to the doctor to figure shit out despite paying so much for insurance.

But, my body finally took matters into it's own hands and I don't have a choice anymore. So hopefully in a few weeks, my doctor(s) will find a solution for me so that I can start feeling like a human again—the pandemic related bad will still affect me I'm sure, as it is so many, but maybe it'll be easier if the other layer of bad is gone.

I just want to make stuff again. I want to wake up and not feel awful. I know the whole world is suffering, and that doesn't help my empathetic brain either, but right now I can only afford to worry about my world, because I just don't have the energy or capacity to worry about the rest of it.

Something that's definitely made it worse is the loss of Savvi specifically. For 15 years she made depression manageable with her soft little toe beans and sassy, needy attitude. It's hard to stare at the wall for hours when a little cat body shoves itself into your lap and demands attention. But that's gone now. Losing Savvi has made it abundantly clear that I need a companion animal in my life at all times. I need a soft little critter that gets me out of bed or out of my chair or off the floor, because my "take care of pet" wiring is better than anything else going on in my head. I still have Kazu, but he is not mine. He's very much Troy's cat. Troy's companion. I am reminded every day of this, when Kazu inevitably chooses his dad over me a dozen times over. I don't resent him for that. His little cat body is full of love, but that love is Troy shaped. This has always been true. But it makes me miss my Savvi cat so much, because she was mine.

I think... I think my next companion will be a dog. It's been too long since I've had one in my life. Maybe that will be in the cards this year. 2021 has a whole lot of time left in it for good things to happen. Fingers crossed.

[yeeast]

a love letter to

I wake up every morning, dreary and exhausted. It didn't feel like I slept at all, which happens every time I wake up. An unending loop of fatigue and unease.

It happens every day, sometimes I wonder what would be the best solution to stop it but my mind wanders off to the thought of perishing, that would end it eventually, right? But I know that there are things I want to achieve, things I have now, and I know that I'm surrounded by people who love me somehow. I know that once I'm gone, they would feel terrible and I can't fathom that thought, but would they really? That puts an end to my train of thought, knowing the deeper I pry into it the more it'll hurt, like constantly picking a large scab until the regeneration process of your skin grows longer and slower. An analogy pops into my head-- scabs are the physical representation of our inner turmoils and fears, pick at it endlessly and it'll never heal. How fun.

I laugh as I imagine myself with a large scab on my right knee, replacing the actual scar present, and one right beside my nose, on the right cheek. In both locations something trivial happened: my cheekbone and nose could've been broken by impact on the belt barrier, and my knee got scratched up when I fell on the asphalt of the road. I recall having visited a hospital to get an x-ray for my cheek: wishing I had the chance to stay longer, wishing to experience being bedridden. It seems I never thought about how difficult that can be, as I lived a decade and a half without ever being bedridden in a hospital. I think my years of recluse, only lying down all the time and barely taking care of myself, are meant to simulate that but I never thought of it that way. It's pathetic, to wish to be so unwell that you lose track of your own health, but it's not a conscious decision. Gradually falling into a deep pit of despair the older you get, it's inevitable for me.

In my head, I want to be covered in scabs on every inch of my skin but I know I'm not strong enough for that, I'm barely hanging on as is. Is what I feel all a lie? Sometimes I think that to myself, without any reasoning what I feel is truly invalid, I have no proof of my misery. It's like how I view God, I need a slim thread of proof to actually believe in it, but I know I can’t ever have myself believe in it. I desperately search for the label for justification, yet in the end I never actually accept it. Yes, I feel like this because of that, what do I do now?

It’s tiring both in my mind and in reality.

But why am I still holding on? What do I have left to hold on to?

I realize it’s not me that’s holding on but the things I want to achieve, the things I have now, and the people I’m surrounded by that love me. I’m not holding onto them at all but they keep me intact, holding all my broken pieces together so that I don’t crumble. But I’m not grateful at all. Why won’t they let me leave in peace?

It’s because if I leave in peace, they’re the ones who suffer.

But I’m suffering too. When will it end?

I sit up from my bed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I can stand up, not like when people tell me I’m crippled. It just feels like a targeted insult, to both those who can’t stand up and those who choose not to or just can’t be bothered to. I’m in the latter group but the ableism is evident anyway. It’s just society working its gears, causing people to oppress themselves just so they can have the privilege to live like a person, as if they weren’t a person in the first place. It’s tiring sometimes, being a human and having to do something for the greater good. Why can’t I just lie down and mooch off of others? But the world doesn’t work like that, I figured. With that in mind I still want to pursue the arts.

I walk slowly to the bathroom, quiet in my steps but noisy in my thoughts. Speaking of being not strong enough to have scabs on every inch of skin, I’m not strong enough to bear suicide or death in general. Why do I think of perishing when it’s a pipe dream? I know I can do it but I also know what I’m going to lose. Being attached to material things and people is a human trait. I am led to the conclusion that I am truly human, not some spectre roaming the Earth waiting to disappear.

I start to think about those moments of fatigue when I wake up a few hours after midnight, unwilling to sleep yet having heavy eyelids that eventually force themselves close. I’m dreaming but not, I’m awake but not. I can do anything in these dreams unless it doesn’t fit the scenario, I can open my eyes and reset a few seconds back into the scenario. I’m curious as to why this happens to me, but I have no way of knowing unless I consult a professional. It’s enjoyable sometimes, because I know I’m asleep, I know I’m dreaming. But when the time comes that it’s not a dream, what will I do? Recently, I had a dream in this state of being awake but my eyes are closed and I feel like I’m actually asleep. It was a jumble of things but it was so real, so lifelike that I was scared.

I walk back to my bed, quietly like there is something to disrupt the silence but no, there’s nothing. I realize I’m human.