Two weird things today has brought up:
1. A lot of very theatrical people are fawning over me an awful lot lately. Have I reached the stage where people want to associate with me? It seems far-fetched, but I have a lot of friends who are only around when I’m doing a project. Today I asked a friend out for coffee and he signed off with “I’d better come out of this with a project.”
= Because that’s what it would take to be worth meeting up? Because he values my work and wants to work together?
Either way = Undue Pressure.
2. The trajectory of my physical deterioration is quite scary. I swear this time last year I was still walking around and spending days out like a normal person. As of this year I can only be out of bed a few hours a day, as of this month, I randomly start trembling during those hours. Social services are getting involved, equipment is being ordered, housing bands are being considered. As are steroid injections, which are apparently a new treatment for fibro. I cannot really cope with the side effects of the drugs anymore, I am just so sleepy that I am unable to do basic paperwork that gives me income and a place to live. It can’t go on like this. Steroids have the potential side effects of thinning of the skin, easy bruising, weight gain, puffy face, acne, high blood pressure, cataracts and osteoporosis. It’s got to the point where I am happy to risk these.
The way disbaility changes your relationship with your body is quite striking – it’s liberating to no longer care how fat or acne-ridden you get. That is, after all this time, something I have that poor Lord Byron never could, being morbidly obsessed with his appearance til he died.