Mrr...

Ohh, this is going to be one of those fatigue exhaustion weakness depression non-fuck-giving days. Just keep going. One more step, always one more step.

Since I am experiencing a depression swing, I've decided that the non-drug remedies will include reading HP Lovecraft while My Little Pony plays in the background. Especially "Smile Smile Smile" and "Equestria Girls" on a loop on YouTube.

Adam and Charlotte and I ran some errands, and I got my memory foam bathroom mat plus plush pillows for the new couch, and Krispy Creme (original glazed, custard filled, creme filled). Adam and Charlotte planned to go buy fabric for the chairs and invited me, but at that point I was so down and unmoveable and fuck it all that I just wanted to be alone with my quiet entertainment.

Time for more supplements: Royal Jelly, CoQ10, Vitamin C, Cha De Bugre, Guarana, Tyrosine, Bamboo, Yerba Mate. I'm starting to feel the fibromyalgia mind fog lifting. Slowly. It will be better at some point. Also, the shock, elation, relief, and indescribable emotions regarding my case approval are still ricocheting around my brain, my adrenal glands, my central nervous system. I've already had a few small seizures with blackout memory loss, but I've been told that it's common. The lawyer's office says it will still be anywhere from two to eight weeks before the official decision, on paper, will arrive, and then the back pay. And when that happens, I imagine I might just fall into inchoate muttering and squeaking. I will need my support system a hell of a lot. I don't want to feel like a drowning person no matter how awesome this turns out.
Mm. No wonder I'm having depressive episodes, seizures, aches and pains, extreme fatigue, and loss of identity.

Look at all the pretty things

The other day, at Big Lots, I found some amazing hairbrushes made from amazing wood with pneumatic ionic cushions; I bought the one with metal bristles because there weren't many others and I already have several wood bristle brushes. But the part that really fascinated me was the model they used on the packaging. The product brand is Donnamax Nakamichi Japan, and all the products in that line seem to use the same model: Dark hair, light eyes, golden complexion, full pouty lips, square jawline, strong cheekbones... I can't stop staring. I think I'm in lust. Or something. One of those "I want to look that good damn it and also I want to kiss her and touch her until our heads spin" feelings. Envy? Who knows. I have no idea who she is, but she is ethereally beautiful to me.
http://www.docstoc.com/docs/87645532/Donnamax-Catalog-Summer-2011
http://donnamax.com/items/haircapsnbrushes/images/9161.jpg
http://donnamax.com/homepage/nakamichi/images/9190B.jpg

Still in a depressive downswing, working with it. Very fatigued. Waiting for the energizing supplements to kick in. I love you, Royal Jelly and CoQ10 and Alpha Lipoic Acid and Moringa and Sea Buckthorn and Cha De Bugre.

Words are... those word things.

I'm not sure how it happened or why, probably something post-ictal, but... yeah, who the hell knows.
Early this morning, Adam and I were picked up by Charlotte and taken to our dentist for Adam's first tooth implant. After that, Charlotte took us back to Big Lots and bought me the memory foam bathroom mat I had been craving. Once we were home, Adam picked up his car from the auto shop nearby, where he had gotten an oil change among other fixings. Adam and Charlotte then went to work fixing our old dining chairs, making new cushions and spray painting the metal parts gold. I was feeling particularly sore and pained, fibro-flared and spastic and weak.

I went upstairs, to the laptop, did my usual online things like webcomics and blogs and research. Felt hideously fatigued and drained beyond description. Let myself fall back against the arm of the couch. The clock read 3:45 when I closed my eyes, just for a small nap. I opened my eyes, and the clock read 6:45. Stunned and confused, I scrambled to check all other clocks until I was assured that it was three hours later. How could I have slept on a couch arm for three straight hours? It felt like a seizure blackout. I might have even done things during said supposed sleep. I do that, sometimes. That's what the extra Klonopin is for.
Then again, no surprise.
I have been severely stressed, emotionally compromised, shocked and stunned, struck over and over by strange incredible waves of euphoria and relief and worry and confusion and elation and ecstasy and a sort of sick sensation. Waterfalls of shock and sensation and emotion pouring off me to pool around me, cracking and fragile and stripping me until I'm shivering. Over a year of waiting and fear and worry and uncertainty and insecurity and being outside my comfort zone too many times, stress and anxiety and terror and depression and gasps for thin air and nightmares and the abyss of the most unknown things waiting to swallow me. I don't remember things that I did a day before, or I run on pure impulse, instinct, and emotion. It may happen again once the disability money is in my account next month or the month after. I have never experienced this before. Those who have been there assure me that it is common and that I am definitely not alone. I am very glad for that. I want to cling. I have told my friends, "I may cling to you, I may beg you to tell me what to do." Having the thing that I've been fighting for is so huge that I can't see beyond my own hand right now. I am so small and this is so big. My doctors know. My lawyer knows. They will help me. They promised.