Being Alice: Scrambling, Misery loving company...

STOP IT, EPILEPSY AND ANXIETY AND CEREBRAL PALSY. STOP. ENOUGH. I HATE YOU.

Thank fuck for typing and keeping digital records because I cannot speak right now. Everything is in full hemiplegic and hypertonic spasm, every sound coming out of my mouth is a wounded animal sound, every thought in my mind is of things that are not realistic, every breath is cutting my lungs. I am all Alice right now. I am full of glass and mirrors that are twisting and warping and melting, I can't run anywhere without slamming into ragged cave walls and broken glass, I want to sob and scream for Alicia and Serena, my personal brain's special coping mechanisms in human form, and I know they are here, I just need to reach out and take their hands. They live inside me, I made them, I need to apply them or I will tear myself apart screaming.

I am so fucking thankful for all my medications that I can't even explain. They hold back the tide. People keep insisting that they must not work if I still have symptoms and episodes. But they hold back the tide. They push back the worst of the symptoms, the biggest wildest episodes. They keep me out of hospitals. They keep me alive and functioning. They help me soothe my own self more easily. Pharmaceuticals and supplements, I love you all in your own way.

Also, it took twenty minutes to type all that. Oh, spasms and seizures, my childhood friends. Not even imaginary.

I think that if someone were to call me, I would have to scramble for a good mask, because my voice is barely human but my brain is at least.

After the scrambling

And now I am left with a complete sensation of pure exhaustion, a left arm that doesn't want to do anything but curl up limply against my ribs and be a ghost, a left leg that just wants to drag limply and be a ghost, and a head that feels full of sky. It will all fade gradually, and it will be irritating and aggravating while it lasts, but I am still here. I still exist. That matters.