Dear Fatigue

Dear Acute Fatigue,
Oh for the love of the gods, please go away, please please leave me alone, for fuck's sake, go away, go away, oh good gods why are you here arg argh argh fuck fuck fuck eeerrrgh.

I can handle the acute and chronic pain. Sometimes the flood of adrenaline pushes me and boosts me. I cannot handle being so tired, so exhausted, so void of energy, that it takes an effort to lift a book or write with a pen or staple papers or even type.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

I'm waiting for the supplements to kick in fully: CoQ10, MSM, Ashwagandha, Gotu Kola, Spirulina. They usually work well enough to help me shove through the day.

Dear Anti-Fatigue Supplements

Dear Wonderful Anti-Fatigue Supplements,
You rock.
Thank you.
It may take a while for you to work fully, but once you start working, you are glorious.
Yay.
I am significantly more energetic. Not much, mind you, but a hell of a lot more than I was earlier. Enough to finish the day and not want to collapse crying when I get home.
Also, I want chocolate. Lots of chocolate. And plain Lay's potato chips...
*pause*
*checks calendar*
Oh. Oh, right. I know what's coming up in a week now.
This would explain a lot of things.
Female organs are fascinating, aren't they?

Love the Deva Pill

Oh, gods, Soma.

I want to roll around on the floor laughing.

The muscles everywhere relaxing feel like a rush of air under my skin; this is indescribable. Wellspring.

Like having been cramped in a tiny box all your life and suddenly set free, allowed to stretch and dance and move, and YES.

My only problem is that I know this is ephemeral. Essentially illusionary to a degree. Temporary. And I am glad for it, really. Having a few hours of this reminds me of who I am and who I can be and who I should be and who I will be.

Love you all.