Back in the day I called in sick about once every two weeks. I worked nine days out of ten which I could barely manage back then when I still was able and willing to dissociate in order to go to work because I thought that was normal although I did have some suspicions that not everyone felt suicidally depressed on Sunday night--every Sunday night.
But this is not the direction I meant to go in when I opened this editor to write about my sick day. I am ok. On Wednesday I had one of those therapy sessions that ended on a weird enough note that it threw me off track for the next couple of days. Nan and I are playing phone tag now but I am hoping she can squeeze me in on Monday so that I don't have to wait until Wednesday to talk about it. But in any case the salient point is simply that I got knocked off track which is something that happens from time to time but I am writing about it to the degree that I am writing about it in order to note that it happened this week.
Sometimes it feels really nice to sit around in what passes for your pajamas all day, feet up, wandering around on the Internet, looking up random stuff and wondering how it has come to pass that you do not have time to do more than, like, two things in the course of one of one 24-hour waking cycle. I don't really understand because I used to be able to do as many as three things in an ordinary 12-16 hour waking cycle. Either things take longer or I am slowing down. I mean objectively that must be what happens because although time seems to speed up it doesn't really or at least I don't think that it could and still be a measurement that we use in common. Unless something really bizarre is up with time and I do not dismiss that possibility at all.
But so I am trying to recuperate from a mental health stumble of sorts. It is working ok except to the degree that I still have fights with myself over the necessity of ubiquitous shame. I was taught that human life--especially mine--had to face the fact that it was fatally shame-worthy and by that I don't mean we are simply dying of shame, which would be bad enough, but that we deserve eternal torment for the shame of having been born.
It really isn't the sort of thing you teach a child if you want that child to be able to function but I am not convinced that it was the children's ability to function that was most closely guarded in my family.
Not that this is particularly surprising.
Mostly I am waiting to see when sleep overtakes me for the next lengthy period of sleeping. My sleep cycle also got disrupted and so I slept most of the day yesterday and part of the night so I was not really certain when I woke up at 2AM how long I was going to be awake.
This long at least but quite possibly not a whole lot longer.