bite

Yesterday was a day so lazy and soft that really, what else was there to do? We woke up at noon again. Adam made me an egg in a house sandwich. With cheese. Two stories. I did eat half of it, but my gods. And then I nuked myself some bacon. And later, after hours of television watching (Danny has downloaded and is determined to watch every single episode of Stargate SG-1; we're up to season eight now; and then later, every single episode of Babylon 5), I ate half a bag of popcorn. And then, realizing that the pot roast that Adam was mercilessly slow-cooking would not be done until I went to bed, I ate a microwave dinner (Healthy Choice Grilled Chicken Marinara) and then a bagel with cream cheese, toasted. And then, much later, the anorexia mindset bulldozed full force leaving me wracked with guilt and constantly massaging my very full belly. And then, that little voice of common sense spoke up and said, loudly, "You are complaining because you ate too much throughout the day on a Sunday, totaling much less than two thousand calories. Calories that wouldn't put a pound on you right now if you held them at gunpoint. Woman, are you out of your mind? Stop that! Stop -- stop it -- good girl. Thank you," and then I stopped maniacally doing crunches and leg lifts and push-ups, and went back to reading a book.

I think it was just the... heaviness of the foods. Texture. Ah, American cuisine.

Eh. My stomach still hurts, but for different reasons.

No more. Fuck you, enough!

I woke up in pain.
I walked to the bus stop in tears.
Stumbled trying to step on the train (mind the fucking gap).
When I got to work, I was foggy and exhausted and everything hurt beyond the ninth level of hell. Throb. Burn. Ache. Cramp. Itch. Spasm. Clench. Tingle. Insert adverb related to pain here.
By the time I got back from lunch and my boss left for his lunch hour, I was too tired to really move. I started checking in magazines, periodicals, filings and new books. I helped an attorney find a case docket online. I answered phone calls and emails. A chunk of time was lost from memory. When my boss returned, he was annoyed because it looked like I had barely done anything. I had to convince him several times that I was tired and in pain. He said it had been my excuse for weeks. I was just too drained to argue, to tell him that yeah, it had been an excuse for weeks --
Because it had been.
For the first time in eight years.
There are moments in a year where, for several weeks at a time, even months, I will experience a daily rash of intense exhaustion, pain, and muscle/nerve inflammation that goes beyond my patented Total Fatigue Days. It will come and go during the entire day in waves. One moment I will be fine, energetic, awake and alert. Next moment I am dragging, limping, making small noises because I cannot help it. If you can name a body part, it will hurt. Then it will stop, for an hour, three hours, six. Maybe it will return as tiny pinpricks so that I barely notice and will feel human for a while.
After several weeks -- at least three -- the pain will fade. It will not return with that strength for a long time, at least a year. I remember this each year but I have no way of "charting" the incidents, because I have no idea exactly when they will happen. I have gotten very, very good at hiding it and covering it up. But when I am under extreme stress, parts will slip through and the mask will fall and someone will notice.
At the end of the day, my boss beckoned me over and told me that he understood I was stressed out and tired, and he was sympathetic, so that made me feel slightly better. But he still has no idea.

I have not told anyone about this. No one, not even my husband. I am telling my journal now because this is a very intense episode and I wish to understand it.

Maybe as I start to become more aware of it, I can learn to anticipate, prepare, and perhaps one day take control.

On The Tide

"The Absinthe Drinker"
by Arthur Symonds (1865-1945)

Gently I wave the visible worlds away.
Far off, I hear a roar, afar yet near,
Far off and strange, a voice is in my ear,
And is the voice my own? the words I say
Fall strangely, like a dream, across the day;
And dim sunshine is a dream. How clear,
New as the world to lover's eyes, appear
The men and women passing on their way!
The world is very fair. The hours are all
Linked in a very fair. The hours are all
Linked in a dance of mere forgetfulness.
I am at peace with God and man. O glide
Sands of the hour-glass that I count not, fall
Serenely; scarce I feel your soft caress,
Rocked on this dreamy and indifferent tide.

***

Danny gave me absinthe for the pain. A double shot. This is how I feel.