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03 March 2022
3:24 pm

Sometimes people ask, y'know, if you could go back and meet your younger self, what would you say? Of course this tortures me a lot. If I were limited to, say, 60 seconds, my answer has long been that I would drop a book of CDs and a list of future music. Often, depending on my mood, depending on the theoretical age of this visit, I would drop an encouraging, "...and get the fuck out," as I dissolve from that timeline. You could say I've thought about it too much, but you would be forgetting that I am plagued by disorders where this is quite common or at least understandable, and you would be left with the uncomfortable logic that this is a normal thing for me to do. 

(It's strange how much my diaryland writing flow is affected by writing on that site, in that box. Currently I am not. It feels different.)

It has become very blurry to me where and if I could or would intervene emotionally or interpersonally. Or how. The ramifications are impossible to foresee. Avoid this situation, never meet this person. So on.  It's certainly a toss up if I have to say my peace and leave - who knows if that youngling would even listen to me. 

But I've noticed a shift in these daydreams. I am less often focused primarily on the family, the friends, the loves, or even the financial choices. If I could talk to her, have any effect, I'd tell her, "IT'S YOUR BODY MARTY SOMETHING'S GOT TO BE DONE ABOUT YOUR BODY." 

Recently the fun hypothetical was posed something like the choice between an immediate deposit of some millions of dollars or jumping back in your own timeline to age 6. Not as a Vonnegutian timequake where you are forced to relive everything with no agency, my god, there would be no contest. No, go back to age 6 with all of the knowledge you currently have. Essentially being consciously reincarnated in your own form but getting to skip all the drooling and pants pooping and what not. You still have your formative life experiences, but you would have them anyway since you're being transplanted. 

If we're looking at this question from ROI alone, obviously I'm going back. If I returned to 1989 with what basic pop culture knowledge I have, I could start with pocket money. I could go to my uncle or Betsy. Betsy would have been the safest, and most likely to understand me as a 6 year old suddenly haunted by wanting to learn about stocks. My uncle was always trying to teach me about money and was very into computers, but young, and as I know now, "functionally addicted" to drugs, alcohol, and consumer credit. My mom I could trust, but money would have to be out of my dad's reach. Especially at that age. Anyway, I'd find an adult, take them my piggy banks. By the time I'm in babysitting money, we're golden. I'd be rich enough in the early 00s to short the housing market when it came time for that, and get even richer. I'd have your proposed millions or more well before now. 

But like, who the fuck wants to go to puberty again for all that. Certainly not someone who "doesn't care" about money or whatever. I probably would have better money by virtue of starting elementary school with a mind three decades older. But again, who wants to go through all that shit. I mean, other than possibly becoming a powerhouse of a person by sitting out on some things, filling in gaps in others, avoiding harsh experiences, finding different ones... but that would mean accepting that you will likely not return to most, if not all, of your current circumstances, without major work. Dan and I were working out secret things we could tell each other if we ever had to find the other at a different point in time and convince them we know each other. But that's the question... would it be worth it to risk x by not doing y? Does that prove the "everything is for a reason" thing? I'm getting way off course here.

THE MAIN STICKING POINT is that I could make a lot of different choices for my body. I would be on my mental health immediately (though this too could fundamentally change who I am as a person, since being the "crazy" one was part of my identity for so long.. I am movie film quirky girl, thank you) but equally, if not more importantly, I would... I don't know. Have the understanding of a 40 year old about what my body needs, what will be helpful, what to avoid, what to do... but in the body of a child. 

And that's what's revealed to me with this nonsense thought experiment that I've rambled on for way longer than necessary. "Well, dingdong, if you know what you need, if you know what a routine should be, then just... do it?" The problem being that I know how hard it is to start a routine, and I wish I'd been doing this all for so much longer, all this time I thought I should be (like everything) and if I'd just started so much earlier, then la la la, this wouldn't be a struggle, why is everything a struggle la la la, but who really wants to go back in time, and even if you do, you can't...

Instead, pull a fortune cookie from yesterday that says today is better than tomorrow, or maybe the tea tag that says today is tomorrow's yesterday or whatever the fuck

SO ANYWAY I WENT TO THE DOCTOR and of course, as foretold by ancient mystics, there is no reboot button. She's not convinced I'm having migraines, so we're treating for vertigo with headaches. 

For the vertigo, I'll start a physical therapy. That might be weekly or something. I probably won't be able to drive to that, and I'm not trying to make purchase requests for that many car rides, so that's going to be at least 50 minutes each way on a bus, depending on the location. (Eyes fall to suspicious squints when she remembers talking about missing bus rides, for their leisure and color. She is amused even though she is annoyed.) Try the stupid diuretic. Be conscious of sodium.

For the headaches, stop taking so much Tylenol. I feel like I misrepresented my Tylenol use because her questions were all so confusing and my memory is consistent for like, a week or two tops, but sure, fine, don't take anything. Use Tiger Balm or certain oils. Heat and ice. 

Limit caffeine to the same period of time every day. Sleep... at the same time... every day. Listen. Lots of things are possible, but I know I only get close to that sort of schedule when I sort of relinquish control. I mean, I'll work on it, but I'm most successful when I accept that my sleep schedule shifts. She's telling me that even a half hour shift in a schedule can make a difference, and I'm like, lady, we will need another appointment for me to respond to that statement, so let's move on. I hear it though. I know it. I know when I sleep for too long it gives me headaches, or if I wake up with an intensely vivid dream, or... well, we have another week until Dan's appointment and then we'll see some sleep things shift. 

So, don't take otc pills unless I must. She can't prescribe me any of the typical prevention pills because they conflict with other ailments or other medications I'm on. But surprise! One of the mood stabilizers I'm on is also used to treat headaches. "That could be increased," she said. "Fuck me," I'm pretty sure I said low enough to not be heard under my mask. 

(Which, by the way, when you are meeting a doctor for the first time and they have a stern vibe and are not responding to your lighthearted attempts, masks make it VERY DIFFICULT to read a person's whole face. Eyes can say a lot and all, but... anyway, that's my only mask complaint.)

If I actually start taking this other psych drug, and it does lift me up, and I do get off the other mood stabilizer (that I stupidly requested) then maybe I would consider increasing the other stabilizer. But fuck my entire life, my baseline mood can't go any lower, because when I go down from there, my entire life is fucked. 

That is an extremely well crafted remark.

So, what then? Sleep. Specific caffeine use. Drink a bucket of water every day. Magnesium and an excessive amount of B2. Protein three times a day - or, in laymen's terms: eat fucking food the way you're supposed to but, ohp.. don't forget to be careful what you eat. I'm thinking about getting protein powder or shakes while I try to get this all sorted. Take the iron I was prescribed by someone else. That vitamin D isn't suggested by the psych, y'know. More like every doctor in the state. So take the vitamins. Do I keep trying to take that one-a-day or...? I don't know. 

Look up seated exercises and do those until I can do other things. I am caught in a loop and I need to break it. 

In a loop where I need to do everything at once, but doing everything at once is difficult. And doing everything at once makes it hard to see what is having what effect. There are a lot of questions, surprisingly, that come down to poop. They say iron will stop you up. The doctor said, start with x mg of magnesium and increase until you get loose poo. Once you've pooped your pants, take it back a notch - now you're on the right amount of magnesium. Okay but if I'm also taking iron then what the fuck

WELCOME TO MOODSWING WE HAVE DIVESTED OURSELVES OF POO SHAME

I'm still not downloading that stupid poo buddy app though. It's so stupid. I don't mean it's supposed to be like, a useful health app. It's like, hey where are your friends pooping. Funny? Yes. Some friends and I had a specific smile and thumbs up selfie we would send to each other while sitting on the toilet, to indicate that... you know...That was how I got over my poop-shame.

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST CAN WE MOVE ON

Anyway, I downloaded some app to help keep track of headaches. And it seems useful but also overwhelming and confusing. At this point, I feel like I need to go back to trying to find a way to track everything. Right? That makes it... fun? Or is there no "fun" I can make from this, and I have to accept that or I will never accomplish it because I always give up when I am "bored" with it?

For the last day and a half, I've been making little moves on all of this... calling who I need to call, trying to figure out how to start a system, but I've also been extremely defiant, in the way of an eternal child on an impossible Sunday. Ignoring food. Looking at too many video games. Last night I purposely stayed up until 5 for the first time in I don't know how long. I feel the urge to do it again. You're taking away my fun. This is the only time I get to do what I want, and now I'm not going to get to do any of it.

Sigh. I need to change all my thoughts.

This is routine and something I have always struggled with. Regimen. Ritual is probably the best word I can use. The only thing that might save me. The best way to help me get on top of this. Because otherwise I'm never consistent for more than a week or two tops, and if I can't keep it going, then I'm doomed, and doomed again. 

I would prefer to, y'know, not be doomed. 

Also, I got one of those reacher-grabber thingies so I can get stuff off the floor or under things without bending too quickly. I will add this to my growing arsenal of "things that will help me maybe clean the house." With it I can pretend to be a robot. Or I guess, maybe, a tree with a long branch arm. I'd rather be a tree.

Today, anyway.