So many things to consider when writing here. Not so much what might interest people - I doubt that this is read by anyone but me) but committing my thoughts to the internet is a dangerous thing. Unsafe enough to put them on paper sometimes, because others might, at some point, come across them. But here, they can be available to anyone idly scrolling; and although they will not know me, there is always the understanding that I could (and probably would) be judged for the things that I say. Still: I have little outlet for my inanities, and this does give me a chance to empty my head of things once in a while.
Another trip. This time things are a little different, because I am a little different lately. I am... tired. The fibro flare ups have been more frequent and severe, and there is nothing I can do to ease some of the more worrying symptoms but sleep, rest, and hope they pass. The journey here was.. perhaps a little smoother this time, since I brought only hand luggage: not having to check; reclaim. drag around, and recheck a large, unwieldy suitcase made a huge difference: as did taking the time to eat at the airport, and making the most of the layover between flights to rest physically. I was a little sleep-deprived since I flew out of Manchester again, and every time I do that I end up arriving at the airport late in the evening, chatting with Him online, and not actually sleeping before I fly:and I find it nearly impossible to sleep on the plane unless I am so exhausted I have no choice.
But this time, apart from the fibro, and the other, permanent condition that always worries both me and Him when I travel, I have been suffering from a severe bout of clinical depression: severe enough to have me tearful and lost for long periods. Travelling in this state is awful, because along with the terrible low feeling, and the additional tiredness and lack of energy and enthusiasm, my cognitive skills have been even MORE badly affected. Combined with the effects of the fibro, I have struggled not only to remember details of the journey, but to understand instructions: follow directions, and, more disturbingly. at times, I have not been able to comprehend what was being said to me, because my poor, exhausted, muddy brain cannot focus. In many situations that would be awkward and embarrassing (and regularly is) but in the middle of the security checks in a busy airport, it became very distressing and frustrating for me, especially since, despite my honed skills at masking these difficulties, it was obvious that my confusion had been noticed.
What upsets me even more is that I can't take control of this. I can't step back and look for an incident that might have caused my depression, because there wasn't one: this is simply due to a chemical imbalance in my already addled brain, and until that balance is restored, I will continue to be tearful and afraid, and pessimistic. I hate this feeling: have hated it since I first suffered it as a child: I learned to manage it when I could, and hide it in order to protect myself. It grieves me that I have never been able to release myself from it: and that now it can affect my relationship in ways that make me hurt.
For now, I am trying hard to make preparations for the journey back. For the two long flights: for the increasing stretch of time and distance between me and the one I want so badly to be with. I am trying to find ways to make that physical journey as smooth, pain-free, and restful as I can, knowing that managing to do that will make it less difficult for me to cope with the emotional upheaval... A little sleep during the 14 hour layover between these flights will make me far less likely to be edgy and miserable. A chance to eat a proper meal - not fast food, or snack food, but a proper meal where I can sit at a table, use cutlery. Read. That can make me feel more grounded and connected to myself. And reminding myself at the point that the plane touches down in Manchester, that I am going to go back again: that I will see Him again soon, can help me not to feel so alone and isolated. I know that I will get a call: or a message: or an email filled with love and care, and reassurance, because I always do. Its just that right now I am in a very dark place, and I have no idea how to climb out. Sometimes, He is a bright light in that place, and reminds me that there is always more sun: always more sweetness.. and that somewhere there is a ladder long enough for me to use.
