And now, to sleep...

It is Friday night, just after 8pm.

Every bone in my body, every tissue, every muscle, every nerve pulse, is aching, exhausted.

My hands are slumped lazily over the keyboard, moving occasionally, trying to pretend that my words are in some way productive, even though my partner is still working on the house, despite my feeble, shallow attempts to assist him.

My exhaustion is all consuming, and terrifying. I have no control about the increasing onslaught of tiredness that I can feel creeping up on me. But I am fighting it, I am struggling against it, forcing myself to drive into it, onwards.

The idea of letting it swallow me is inviting, too much so. But it is never ending. Every night I collapse into bed, every morning I struggle to get up, aching for more sleep.

He is finishing soon, and I will do my best to entertain something of an evening for him, but I can feel that even that feels like an empty, unstructured promise.

I have no idea when this will end. Tomorrow I meet with my SP, the second to last time I will see her before she leaves for Dubai. I wish I was energised, my normal self. I know she understands, I know she will allow me to indulge in my self pity, my fits of exhaustion.

But I wish I was myself for her, for our precious time together.

I am wearing sea sickness bands to help cure my nauseous stomach. I thought they were helping. I'd be happy with a placebo, I'd be happy to indulge in my psychosomatic symptoms, if only the sickness left me, or subsided, or only came in short, succinct waves, preferably when I was in deep sleep.

Anyone for a dry cracker?