having a few nasty days, I’m sitting on the couch all day. It’s not until late in the afternoon that I get going. This is physical in cause.

I did do a few administrative things each morning, it’s where ‘the golden hour’ went. Writing a few mails, making an appointment, it took all my energy. I had nothing left for writing.

Now self doubt has taken hold of me. Am I a procrastinator? Am I willingly sabotaging this writing job I have put my mind to?

I know I am good at making plans and thinking up kingdoms. Doing the actual work is not something I particularly like unless it involves an interesting proces. Which is what writing is. But I’ve been non-writing for weeks now, ever since I figured out I’d do five jobs. Writing is the job that got tossed all the time. Why? Do I do that consciously? Is it too big a task? Too much ambition? Have I got my wires crossed?

Have I talked too much about it? Have I jinxed it? I didn’t think so because I’ve only used general terms, I have not let anybody actually read anything. And you all have been very supportive in not asking about it. For which I thank you. Because inquiring after creative processes often kill them.

Now I’m afraid I am sabotaging myself. That it is me. Clearly every day I find something more urgent to do than sit at my desk and write. Lots of days I’m too ill to do anything at all and I feel guilty for making the sound decision to not work that day.

Today and yesterday are particularly nasty. My body is missing something, I can hardly sit up. I have to be extra careful when moving around the house, take care not to tumble down the stairs. Luckily I have my habits: put your hand here, there and there. No talking on the stairs. A hand at the barrister at all times.

Things my doctor said are tumbling through my mind. He was positively shocked when I talked about my life, my days. He thinks it is unacceptable, to live a life like this. Something needs to be done. But he doesn’t know what.

Yesterday he found out I have a Zinc deficiency. This is odd because I take a mineral supplement every day. Perhaps it’s related to my low vit. D levels? Other levels are all right though (B12, thyroid, kalium/sodium etc) so I am stumped. Confused about this too.

Today my body was in a panic. I was clearly missing a nutrient but noting I took helped. Vit.D, multivitamins, zinc, lithium, echineaforce, cortisol, progesteron, food, vegetables, salt, wakemé. Nothing.

All I could do was lay on the couch, speak softly to my body, wait for my stomach to sing and watch tv for distraction. So many questions, so many uncertainties. And no writing, perhaps as a conscious decision. It made me lose courage. I really have no idea any longer what is going on.

The few sane snippets left are: doctor says sink pills don’t work, gotta have tablets you suck on. Taking the extra vit. D makes me hungry. The guy who did my meridians agrees my energy system is fluent and untroubled, the cause of my illness must lay in a physical problem (or in an environmental one but I cannot see how that could be since I live in two different places and am ill in both of them. still, I’m open to anything).

it also doesn’t help that I’ve just spend two weeks in the city and really need to rest now for two weeks but am making apointments anyway. I feel pressured. By people. And by myself.

Also, next week it will be 20 years since my brother died unexpectedly of heart failure (not heridetary). That period started the spiral that ended me on the couch. This strange anniversay adds to my confusion because I have never learned how normal people act on such days. I want to visit the grave (it is in the forest too) but it’s a logistical nightmare. If I manage to rest up enough before that day. I want to talk to my family but they do not care for that it seems. Perhaps for the better because talking has not helped us before.

yes I’m a proper mess these days. Can’t hear myself think with all those contradicting thoughts going thrhough my head.

sorry for the spelling errors, really I’m too tired to find out the correct spellings of the few words that remain at fault.


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