I don't want this blog to turn into just my log of coronavirus problems, but some odd things happened over the weekend and since this is my form of documentation, here it goes. I guess I don't need to apologize or anything. No one is forcing anyone to come back and read this. It's all just so fascinating to me. Yes, it sucks that so many people are dealing with chronic issues right now. But I'm trying to see it all from a scientific angle. I want to know why these things are happening to us. Was it intentional? Maybe.
Anyway, I had the book Firefly Lane in my library app queue for over 6 months. One weekend a couple months ago Peppy was working and I ended up bingeing the first season of Firefly Lane on Netflix. When my turn for the book came, I went ahead and borrowed it, assuming it would be an easy read for my brain since I had already seen the show. Well, 85% in and the book took an unexpected turn that the show didn't have and I wanted to hurl my kindle into the wall. I kept reading and this unexpected turn was a sad one and I started crying. Bawling actually, because Kate and Tully had become so real to me, and now this?!?!?! So there's all these tears streaming down my face, so somewhere subconsciously my body is doing what it is supposed to do when you are sad, or grieving, or whatever. But I'm not feeling any of it. There was no feeling of sadness, just the physical proof. On an intellectual level I knew "this is sad. This is why I am crying," but there was absolutely no emotion behind it. There was nothing in my heart. Just blank emptiness- not good or bad. I've never experienced anything in my life like this. It was similar to riding the rollercoasters at Six Flags and not getting that dopamine dump.
Another day I was finishing up the book of Revelation and I find myself crying again. Tears are streaming down my face but there's absolutely no emotion attached. I just don't understand. All I can assume is that inflammation to my brain has caused some sort of brain damage. Or maybe those particular circuits in my brain have just gone out. If I had not actually felt water rolling down my cheeks I might not have even known. Who knows if any of this is irreversible.
It probably seems like this is all that I think about it, but that's not true. (In fact, there's lots of times that I just sit and dissociate for extended periods of time, thinking of absolutely nothing. Hah! So there!) I have actually just come to accept that I'm a different person than I was 6 months ago. In the beginning I could feel the piece of me that was missing, but now I don't even remember.
It's just gone.
Poof.
I am just resigned to the fact that this is who I am now. I'm just taking it one day at a time. And if I ever do start feeling sorry for myself I see it from the scientific lens. It reminds me a little of when Titus died, how I could temporarily pull myself out of the grief and be amazed and fascinated at how my brain was responding to the shock and trauma in order to protect me. And honestly, it's not all bad. I have found that I'm a little more assertive now. Peppy and I are in a class on Wednesday night about the devil, angels and demons, and I am speaking up more than I've ever felt comfortable with doing. I used to second guess myself before speaking up, but now that doesn't exist either.
Last week I was having a conversation with a friend at the food bank and I literally forgot what I was talking about mid-sentence. My thoughts just vanished in midair. Every Friday the kids and I go to Sonic with my dad. I usually just get a drink and some fried pickles, but there was an ad for a chicken slinger biscuit and I thought "Oh, that looks good. I want to try that." It was only after I ordered that I remembered that I had tried it only a few weeks ago. I can bring up any memory that happened before Christmas like it was yesterday, but anything that has happened over the past 6 months is very iffy.
I guess this is a good stopping point.
I'm more abrupt now too.
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