waking up slowly

Waking up slowly, the sound of a drill,
The cars on the road as they climb up the hill,
The birds and the trees with the wind in their hair
And inertial limbs screaming, resisting my dare
To wake up and face the world, man up and live it,
And live it damn well, and to hell with my limits.
They'll come around slow, then I'll crawl out of bed,
To stand up - not straight, not strong but not dead.

Give me an inch, I'll run it a mile
(though no guarantee that I'll do it in style);
More often than not too, I'll run the wrong way
And I'll double back, trip up and screw up the game.
There's fun to be had, and it's bad to be sad,
Work ya guns to be glad, coz that new fad is rad,
But the glad lad comes sad when bad fads had to die -
You're mad if you don't stop and ask yourself why.

Crawl into bed at the end of the day,
Don't give it thought, just give it a wave,
Read a good book as your limbs fall asleep,
Drift to oblivion without making a peep.
Tomorrow your lot is to do it again,
The birds sing in trees, your limbs scream in pain,
To gain what they can just to hand it right on.
Wake yourself slowly now. Stand up. Be strong.


- Iain

hypochondriasis

It's a world of fun in my mind at the moment.

Hypochondriasis is the phobia that you're sick with something serious. It preys on what you think is an abnormal sensation or occurrence, and turns it into something you're going to die from. There's a related phenomenon called cyberchondria, which is when hypochondria gets exacerbated by misinformation from popular media. Hence, I'm finding it slightly ironic that I used Wikipedia to confirm that I am a hypochondriac.

I started writing about all the gory details, but then thought better of it... Suffice to say, I'm getting a disturbing amount of practice at cleaning wounds with a pocketknife and hydrogen peroxide. Where these wounds come from, I'm not so sure. I just dug something out of my foot - not sure what, not sure how or when it got there. The finger I can kind of explain, though it's taken a disturbing amount of cleaning also. Taught me a little about restraint when I bleached my skin white from the H2O2 and had to hold my hand under running water for 10 minutes to get normal colour back. I'm also showing remarkable restraint in not rushing to the doctor to get my back checked post-sunburn until after the skin peels and the normal itchiness stops. And all of this is on top of the standard paranoia that accompanies every groggy day after a late night, where I imagine myself not just groggy but sick, and consequently find myself light-headed because I'm short of breath because I'm panicking because I think I'm sick... it does not a fun day at work make.

It's the things I can't diagnose myself that get me the most. I like to fix things, and if I know what's wrong with something I can generally give it a shot at fixing it. Thing is, there's just so much about my body that I have no idea about, and I wouldn't have the first idea about how to fix it. And worse, I have no real idea how to tell if it's actually broken. Engines and computers are so much easier. With a body, you can't listen for pinging or knocking, and you can't check the timing or change the filters or watch for bubbles in the radiator fluid. You can't boot into Safe Mode and check the startup logs, you can't upgrade the software, and you can't kill processes one by one to find out which one was hogging all the memory. To misquote one of the most awesome webcomics ever, "my normal approach is useless here." One thing I have found helpful is the cognitive behavioural therapy techniques I learnt a few years ago while tackling depression. I actually find this a tougher challenge for them, but they can actually be effective, and it's good to have realised that.

I guess this could lead into writing about an underlying fear of death, or at least of a wasted life, but I'll hold off on that. Might write about it soon, possibly when I continue my post-AnCon thoughts (yes, I am still planning on finishing those). Hopefully I'll get to finish writing those before I die of an infected finger.