One night I'd sell my soul, to sleep in something that doesn't rock and roll

[cybermule]

Last nigh was post covid booster rough. Every vaccine has been progressively worse and yesterday after about 90 minutes I was starting to trip balls. The edges of my vision were wriggling and I was starting to sweat. I was luck to have my daughter around who is now just about conscious enough to fetch drinks and be nice. The night was, to be honest, awful. All my major joints felt like they'd been bashed with a lump hammer and even after a heavy dose of codeine and single malt, every time I dropped off I'd jump back awake with the pain. Even when I propped bits of me up on pillows, I would wake up burning or freezing every 40 minutes or so. I drank 6 pints of water and two half pints of orange juice. Although those last two ended up smeared up the stairs as I was juddering too hard to keep the juice in the glass. I would like to thank my cat, Ziggy, for being good company all through the wee hours. She gives cuddles, she plays in duvet tunnels, she acts cute for dreamies.

I feel marginally better today, but not great. I got the Gold Marathon award off Audible for 8 hours of continuous listening. I can recommend Alan Moore's Jerusalem because it's already crazy psychedelic and the structure loops and loops anyway.

This has been a dark timeline, the past 30 months. Taking my child out of school. One difficult relationship ending and another horrific one beginning. There is little lonelier than dating an addict. Covid, mental health collapses, physical health. It feels so lonely. But then I've been in relationships where I felt lonelier to be honest.

Now at least it is peaceful.

I think humans are great at adjusting, and that is both good and bad. We're infinitely flexible, but that means we can accidentally boil ourselves alive. I was owning Booster Day yesterday, right up until the final moment. I realised I was stood in some cold conference venue hastily repurposed as a hospital, all of us masked and nervy. Barages of questions, coloured cards, roped up queues. So dark and dystopian. And triggering. Wobbly head and tears starting to flood. Luckily I got stabbed pretty much instantly and just curled on a chair and dissociated for a bit. But this is not how I imagined life would be.

It's so very strange. But that could be the mRNA talking.

Comments

[michaelboy]

And for you, I wish healthy improvements and certainly less lonely days. You are a sweet gal with the words you share. And this sentiment is with my mRNA booster well-faded in the distance

[cybermule]

Aww - thank you. I'm glad the Dreamwidth world conspired to move us in alignment. And I feel old and bitter these days, so I'll just take your comment and smile :)