Holding pattern.

Was awake a little over two days straight last week, followed by a day-long sleep from which I didn’t wake even to feed my cats, the poor things. Finally roused myself at 7 am and managed to feed them, refresh their water bowl, and clean the litter boxes — and went back to bed.

Health, what the crap.

I’m on my way home from the doctor’s office as I write this. The disability forms are filled and will be sent today by the clinic, along with the copies of my psych reports. Now I wait, hope and fret.

Please let it be enough. Please. I’m so tired.

Time, time, time, see what’s become of me.

It felt like May would never end, and yet it has.

I noticed what looked like bug bites on my arm a few weeks ago, coinciding with work on the now-empty suite across the hall. I thought at first a mosquito had gotten in, as I’d left the window open for a night or two, but found it odd since I no longer smell like food to them. One morning, as I sat up reading in bed, a very distinctive insect scuttled across the sheets.

Bedbugs. Again. You little fuckers.

The end result: several loads of boiled, roasted, bagged laundry; said bags and bins loaded with bedroom detritus piled between kitchen and living room; disassembled bed; two pest control visits two weeks apart; and me sleeping on the couch, now with a paranoid itch reflex and scars from the bites. Had to throw out all my pillows and the Devil May Cry 3 standee I’d kept from my EB Games days — I really liked that souvenir, you little shits! I’ve since put the bed back together, but nothing more. Energy, what is it.

The insomnia-hypersomnia cycles have returned in force. Last week, I spent two full (non-consecutive) days asleep, lost in vivid, exciting dreams I didn’t want to wake from. I woke only to feed the cats, but didn’t bother feeding myself before passing out again. I’m so tired, and yet. And yet.

The disability forms finally arrived. I visit one doctor tomorrow for bloodwork results and to fill them out, the other doctor on Tuesday to fill out a second copy. I also made copies of existing diagnosis letters to send along with them. Here’s hoping it’ll be enough.

If nothing else, the desperate panic I felt when I couldn’t find my binder as a result of the packing confirmed I’m on the right track for something.

Starting to hallucinate now. That means it’s time to sleep.


I slept 25 hours.

My head hurts.