We Can't Rewind, We've Gone Too Far

So I was wondering why I wasn't really feeling much about the situation. There were specific anxieties, like dad being in the States, but in general I wasn't anxious and I didn't feel the need to check the news every hour and all my issues were more depression in reaction to the lockdown than the pandemic. And this is a coping mechanism in itself, which gaudior has written a post about that I'm not linking directly because I'm on mobile, but it was odd.

And now I've realized that what was actually happening is that my brain is dealing with the anxiety with its standard coping mechanism, which is somatization.

I haven't had serious anxiety like this in so long that I kind of just forgot about it. But yeah, that's how it goes - anxiety may or may not be noticeable on a conscious level but it goes straight to physical symptoms.

(I *also* have some kind of non-covid infection, labyrinthitis or something, but the anxiety is making it Much Worse and probably also responsible for me catching it at all given that I've barely seen people outside the house for three weeks.)

Also legitimate reasons or not, it's really annoying that when I *can't* write I really want to write and feel like I could if only I could concentrate, and when I have time to write it all goes to staring at the internet and distraction.

Nothing makes it so obvious how much of an afterthought your consciousness is like being sick.

Your body is fighting alien invaders here, and your brain is like, "We need to go to work. And do laundry. And then I could - what do you mean I should just lie down? I'm bored!" And then you try and read a book and you can't concentrate on it because you can't focus on anything.

Because the rest of you is BUSY. We are fighting alien invaders here, what do you mean you're bored? No, you don't get to borrow processing power, there are aliens! And you're just like yeah, whatever and throwing acetaminophen at the defending forces.

Title: Inclination
Author: Violsva
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Rating: G
Warnings/Enticements: Case Fic, PTSD, Canon-Typical Violence
Word Count: 2966
Summary: A convalescence, a revelation, and a promise.

On AO3.

So in October when I wrote this I was horribly depressed and I thought it was awful and I felt awful about even submitting it, but decided that was better than defaulting, and I've just reread it and it's actually pretty good. So. We persist.

I'd have something more specific to say about skewed self-image and things, but I'm not better enough to know what it is. I really am glad I was wrong about it.

Washed dishes
Called in prescriptions
Researched archaeological digs (OMG!)
Sent letters
Wrote about 300 words on a couple things, and I'll do more in a sec

12-4: Insomnia

4-8:30: Fever dreams

8:30-9:30: Staggering around, feeding the cat

9:30: Calling in to work

9:30-11:30: Sleep

11:30: Woken up by boss, who wants me to check something. It takes a full minute before I realize he didn't get my voicemail and thinks I'm at work.

11:30-4: http://xkcd.com/1157/

4: Explaining basics of new desktop shipping program to boss over phone

4-present: Griping


There has been something resembling writing going on as well, at least. I hope I'm better tomorrow, I want to go to work and this is unpleasant. And Monday will be hideous if I don't ship things tomorrow.

It's snowing outside. In mid-April. At least an inch.

But I have a date on Tuesday, and it involves poetry, and I will be better then. Or I damn well plan to be.

My brain, at least, is doing pretty well recently apart from the cold symptoms. No emotional nonsense. Ugh, sick.

Heat OR hayfever. Not both.

I've never had hayfever before, but it's either that, or a sinus infection, or a sudden cat allergy. Off and on all summer. Gah.

On the bright side, my hair is the shortest it's ever been in my life, and it's awesome.

Next fic just needs a little more hammering.