azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Saturday: very quiet, stayed at home, a certain amount of chat with partner.

Sunday: went to my aunt's to gossip and watch GBBO and Frasier. This was put on pause when Infamous Cousin, his girlfriend, and two friends showed up to pick up Boat.

Boat is a dog. She's a German Shepherd (perhaps a mix?) with one constantly upward-pointed ear and one ear that mostly flops but sometimes flaps and points when she's doing radar-ears about something. She is 70 pounds of complete love, love that wants to hug you without your permission and share your peanut butter. She's also dog-reactive, got separation anxiety, and has recently learned how to climb 8 foot wooden fences. (Her rear legs were off the ground and front legs were over the top, according to my aunt.)

My aunt very much misses the poodle.

Monday: also quiet, wrestling with sleep schedule and preparing for Fishie's visit and chatter with partner (always). Plus some undignified laboratory homework.

TMI )

Today: whooooo boy. Aforementioned lab drop-off, then I picked up [personal profile] quartzpebble and we went all the way out to the back of beyond to talk with the sleep neurologist who wasn't Dr. Asshole.

Appointment went okay. This doctor wasn't at all sure what to do with a patient whose depression is rapidly and *extremely* worsened by sleep deprivation (she inquired with some urgent concern whether I was feeling like that now, as she'd have to report that; I was not; she recommended that I see my psych crew to get that taken care of, which MISSED THE POINT ENTIRELY, that if I follow her instructions I'd probably need to be taken inpatient, and if I don't try to fuck with my sleep schedule, I'm pretty much all right except pretty fucking disabled due to the level of difficulty I have maintaining a modern business type schedule), and whose AD(H)D interferes with any and all "sleep hygiene" things that amount to "just get fantastically bored and you'll go to sleep", and whose budget does not presently include a CPAP. (Also, the mouth appliance thing costs more than a CPAP, and stuff in my mouth when I sleep is a hard limit after the misadventures of 1996/1997.) And there's some advice (not all of which can be followed and keep me sane), and there's a CBT class (cognitive behaviour therapy, not the other one), the contents of which I will be running past my Top and perhaps also my morail, as they are among the safeguards against me putting stuff in my head which needs to not be in there.

I only cried a little.

Soooooooo... compared to the appointment with Dr. Asshole, this went astonishingly well.


F and I had a few misadventures in finding a place for food. We settled on a diner. Lumpy's was closed already, since it was a Tuesday. Digger's was astonishingly difficult to find. I refueled, then we finally located it. The sign is not night-friendly, and very stylized.

Food was good. One of the great things about a diner that plays oldies and classic rock -- very little chance of getting the Wham!


The drive back was pretty much uneventful. Except now [personal profile] quartzpebble smells enough like Purple that I kept getting the "Oh, there's Purple!" pings in my brain. THIS IS WEIRD.

My partner called when I was on the way home, and we talked about stuff. Logistics for some things are difficult.


I talk to my (prescribing) psych tomorrow, and I'll probably poke Purple for dinner. Whee!
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
My brain has been acting up on me, and last night was not the greatest of nights. (I was, in fact, reminded of 1999.)

Then I went off to dinner with Purple, who gently observed that I seemed to be about half-speed, then held my hand while we complained about politics. He had a touching level of faith in the unwillingness of Indiana parents to not ask for their children to be tortured in the name of Getting Straight. And I provided some thoughts on the torture facilities euphemistically known as "wilderness survival camps" and their ilk.

And I got back home, and found that my sweetie's dating site profiles very cheerfully mention a primary partner. Me. I am touched beyond belief.

So a mixed bag, but getting better.

💙💙💙
azurelunatic: Polished piece of rainbow fluorite (huggy rock)
I submit that Anne McCaffrey's Crystal Singer series has one of the better non-medical descriptions of the ADD/ADHD/attention focus problem brain's unwanted hyperfocus at work.

A crystal singer can become inappropriately, damagingly enthralled with a piece of crystal, focusing in on it exclusively, losing time, ignoring/unaware of bodily needs, schedule demands, and physical dangers. It can take external intervention to snap them out of it.

Crystal thrall is seductive, of course, but also terrifying. There's a chance of death if it happens at the wrong time.

Earth is not prone to quite the extremes of weather that one gets on Ballybran, and not everyone with attention focus problems is regularly in the way of life-threatening danger, but it's the same general idea. Attention gets snagged by something -- particularly when you're exhausted enough that the executive function has given up and gone to bed, or hasn't been woken up yet -- and there goes a half-hour doing clicky things on the internet, snipping off split ends, scrubbing up soap scum, or gods know what.

It's so lovely when you can just disappear into something productive and come out a few hours later, drained but buoyed by the flow state, and with something awesome to show for it. It is not lovely when you come back to your normal brain and realize you're half an hour later for bed than you were planning, but at least you don't have any more shoulder blackheads.

I'm sure the comparison breaks down, but as a 101 for someone who's never experienced that sort of problem, but has read the book, it's not bad.
azurelunatic: Animated woman's gloved hand dripping with her own blood.  (bleeding)
Since the roommate has to get to work before the bus lines start running on this half of town, and she doesn't drive, she takes Super Shuttle. This means that they call when they are here to pick her up at the appointed time (3am) and she's not already out and waiting.

After the initial startled reaction the first day, it's become far less of an issue for me. After all, what else are they supposed to do? It's perfectly logical. I'm not such a poor sleeper that a routine disruption is going to make it so that I can't get back to sleep. I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom; I can become used to getting up in the middle of the night to tell Super Shuttle to chill out, the redhead is on her way.

And it's an excellent way to condition me out of the panic-fear-flight-fight reaction to the phone ringing while I'm asleep. Ever since 1996, if the phone rings while I am asleep, unless I know there is someone else ready to pick up that phone, unless I am so exhausted it doesn't break through, unless I am too tired and confused to find the phone, unless I make the conscious decision not to answer, I will pick up that phone. And I will be ready to do battle with someone or something, or dive halfway across the country and get my loved ones to safety. A wrong number at 8 am on a day when I'm scheduled to sleep until 11 can leave me awake getting rid of the cold shakes of reaction for an hour. A call earlier, especially while I'm sound asleep, is worse.

Today, the only reason I'm still up after they've called is that I needed to use the bathroom anyway, and I needed to get this out of my head. No shakes. No panic. No residual urge to teleport myself to the side of my beloved. It might be finally over.

It was ten years ago, and all parties involved in that ongoing summer of extended emergency are grown and gone. It's about time my body started catching up. Hooray desensitization therapy with Super Shuttle.
azurelunatic: Cordless phone showing a heart.  (phone)
Last night was just plain weird.

It all started out when [livejournal.com profile] figment0 went on break. He had become utterly incoherent, and after hearing him attempt -- and fail -- to make sense, I gave him the Look and sent him home.

I wound up going right back to my desk at that point and not actually taking a proper break with things like lunch. This led to me suffering the inevitable consequences for that -- dizziness, headache, crankiness, sensitivity to noise and proximity of people, and shields like thinly-sliced Swiss cheese. (This is not a good thing.)

Poser-Geek Super and Rev. Nice Super decided that Stressy College Chick Super looks like the title character from Powder. They proceeded to tease her about this. She got grumpy, as she resented being told that she resembled someone she looks nothing like. They did not pick up on the fact that she was actually annoyed and edging towards mad, and kept on teasing.

I eventually did get myself out from behind the desk and with some food in me (the vending machine stole $0.50, though) but by then I was already a bit of a mess. The Nerf-Bat did help matters, though.

I was still a bit of a mess when I got home, and when [livejournal.com profile] figment0 said something I was completely not anticipating, I just lost it. My brain went into freeze-mode, and I could half-see the "end now and risk losing data or wait" dialog box backwards on my face. I said as much (I'm sure [livejournal.com profile] figment0 was alarmed) and was forcibly rebooted. "Hey! I am not the @#$##$&$% Mac Happy Face!" I protested. [livejournal.com profile] figment0 decided that I was not necessarily good to be left on their own, and came over.

I wound up chatting with [livejournal.com profile] sithjawa with most of my brains not mounted. It showed in the typing. When [livejournal.com profile] figment0 got there, I dumped pink glitter all over him, included him in the IM conversation, and giggled hysterically. He wound up camping out on the floor to make sure I was OK.

My brain's back. It's showing dangers of spontaneously unmounting should I think about the problematical fact a little too hard, but it's back.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Once upon a time, I described for [livejournal.com profile] marxdarx what was going on inside my head at any given moment, and why I was frustrated when I couldn't keep up with others.

As I detailed each thing, his expression got more and more amazed. I'm running several background processes, usually, with my mind on something I've been working on for a while. Darkside takes up a huge background process, to maintain the link and his avatar. I think about school, about my current tasks. I have another large process devoted to the Little Fayoumis. If he says something, I hear it and I process it and I know what he's up to at almost every moment when he and I are both conscious and in sound and/or sight range. In addition to that, in a conversation, when I'm told an idea, my mind goes skimming through my library -- have I encountered any similar ideas before? How did they work? If they did not work, why? If they did work, why? Is the situation comparable? How do I think it would work? How would it succeed if it succeeded? What would happen if it failed? What would be the most likely modes of failure? How would those modes of failure change any situations?

He boggled at me for a bit, and told me that if he tried to run all those things at once, his brain would severely lag, lock up, and possibly crash.

It's still frustrating. I think that I ought to be able to think faster, do things faster, work faster...

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