Sometimes it gets to me.
I can’t let it hold me back. I won’t let it hold me back. I want to live. I have to live. I refuse to give in.
But sometimes, I have no choice. Sometimes, the Bloody Brain leaves me floundering. I don’t mean headaches. I don’t mean poor balance. Or major meltdowns. Or any of the other more dramatic symptoms the Bloody Brain throws at me all too often.
I mean the more subtle symptoms, the world weariness, an overwhelming slow down that takes over my brain, my body. When I feel the need to, I try to push through it, knowing it’ll catch up with me eventually, melodramatically.
I am able now to postpone the inevitable now.
Seven years ago, in the early days, I had to succumb to the Bloody Brain as soon as it demanded it’s price. I had no choice, there was no bargaining with it, let alone fighting it. If I tried, it would lash out at me with full force.
Right now, I am pushing myself, hard. Writing to damp down the threat of tears, a signal that overload is imminent. I’ll push myself even harder for my job and for friendship. I’ll plaster a tired smile on my face, knowing it’ll quickly broaden and become genuine.
I’ll collapse soon enough, when I have time, when I’m ready.