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It's nearly 3am and I cannot sleep. I have a meeting at work tomorrow where I will be advised that I no longer have a job due to "breach of policies", that is, I'm working too slowly. Tomorrow will be the first time I have gone to work this week and I will be going in purely for that meeting. At that point, I will no longer have a job and subsequently, an income.

This is not a surprise. On Monday, being driven to the shops and buying some groceries was enough to reduce me to a panting, sweaty, aching wreck. Today, making dinner did something similar. I can't work. Hell, I can't even look after myself. I had to rely on a friend to buy cat food for me the other day so that the fluffbrat didn't go hungry. So not a surprise. But this is where the wheels really fall off my life. I lose the ability to retain my home by dint of my own efforts. Doing the simplest things HURTS and renders me incapable of doing another of the simplest things. So I can't lay down and close my eyes without thinking of tomorrow, and then I cry. Crying is another of those simple things which can be exhausting, so I should avoid that. So I make ugly terrified keening noises while tears run disconcertingly into my ears and my cat flees to the relative peace of the loungeroom. This is no fun so I've made a pot of tea and am just going to try to draw breath.

I am so over this. I am over being sad and angry and frightened and sore and exhausted. I think I'm into the bargaining stage which is awkward because there is nobody to whom I can beg to make things better. So I'm back to anger. It's a really good thing that I'm still way more interested in being me than being nothing because dark thoughts can be awfully dark. I just found a whole other set of ways in which a lot of things in the world that people take for granted are not for me anymore. I wonder just how circumscribed my existence is going to be. I wonder just how long my friendships can remain active in the face of me not being able to do much to maintain them. So I see my life shrinking in scope and the days running into each other until disability trickles into old age and I gently and oh so blandly and tediously wink out. This was not the life script I had in mind and I mourn the self who I had hoped to spend the remainder of my life with. I need this to not be my reality, please.
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The last three weeks at work have been an exercise in futility. I actually made it all the way through last week but that was because I don't work Fridays now and Thursday was a public holiday. So I managed three days. When I say I managed three days, I mean I stumbled home on Wednesday and immediately fell into bed. I was completely written off for the next day and a half and was still sketchy enough that I was super flat for the rest of the weekend. This week I was flat on Monday, staggered home on Tuesday literally shaking with fatigue and lasted about 45 minutes today before coming home and going to bed for seven hours. I've just gotten up and I ache all over and thinking is something which happens slowly and with effort. I'm clearly trying to function well beyond my capacity at the moment and it's a bit disastrous. There's no way I can manage to go to work tomorrow. I'd probably get there and last maybe an hour as an exercise in showing willing.

On Mondays, the first half of the day is usually fine. I start to feel nasty sometime after lunch. Tuesdays are inevitably worse, probably because I pushed on Monday. So hopefully two half days per week, ideally not consecutively, would work. I really hope I don't look back on this entry and sigh wistfully but I know it's a possibility. I think I've got to the point where this body has no redeeming features though. There is basically nothing I like about it at all.
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No, I haven't posted for a while. Just over a year ago, I gleefully moved into my new unit and looked forward to the next chapter of my life. It's not been the best chapter. To cut to the chase, my health has deteriorated to a ridiculous degree. Work has become a horrific struggle to the point where even cutting back to four days a week has been useless. I took three months of long service leave and badgered doctors and other health professionals, hoping to find and answer, and maybe recover some health with rest. Two weeks after restarting work, I crashed so hard that I came home, fell into bed and slept for more than 20 of the following 30 hours. I saw my GP last Friday and she has referred me to a rheumatologist using terms like "fibromalgia", which, now I'm looking for it, fits horribly well.

People have told me that this isn't the end of the world. And no, it's not fatal. But I'm squinting at my finances, trying to work out how not to lose my unit while living on the DSP. (which provides no allowance for mortgages, unlike rent - apparently it's ok to pay off other people's mortgages while on a pension, but not your own.) This unit was effectively going to be my quality of life insurance for when I was expecting to retire in 20-30 years time. Now...this is going to require some epic juggling, and that in turn will require more juggling, just to find the personal resources to do the epic juggling. Walking more than a couple of hundred metres destroys me. I weigh nearly 120kg - 70kg me from 4-5 years ago would be beyond horrified. I am now morbidly obese, transfeminine, essentially disabled, middle aged and several flavours of queer. I am the living, complaining manifestation of the abject.

There are still good things in my life, but I am watching the latter half of my life dwindle to a tiny dessicated shadow of what I thought it might be. Having had the barest sniff of almost living in a body that fits me, that body has broken in several important ways. It's like opening a Christmas present only to find that someone has trodden on the exquisitely delicate contents before you got to them.

If you need me, just follow the sound of swearing.
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I didn't get that job I wanted.

I feel like I'm struggling to keep myself engaged with things at the moment. I have the occasional win, like the Einsturzende Neubauten concert last night which I genuinely enjoyed but the day to day stuff is a bit of a fuzzy blur. There are tears and moments when I just stop and lean against things or sit down and simply stop functioning for a minute or so and I'm starting to watch myself carefully because I worry that this has the potential to escalate. I'm due to see my therapist prior to surgery so that will present an opportunity to talk things through.

My life is still awfully good. I'm full time employed, mostly healthy and surrounded by friends. I do still somehow manage to feel awfully battered right now. I'm surrounded my images and references to the thing I've lost that I can't get rid of without cutting off a great many friends. I ache regularly and the fact that my clothes no longer fit reminds me that I'm not getting half the exercise I used to even pre-derby. I'm starting to feel fat, old and broken which I know doesn't make me special but I would have liked to have been able to explore my new life as myself in a body that hadn't already had all the juice squeezed out of it.

I'm not being particularly objective right now and I'm sure I'll gain perspective with time but right now I just want to throw things. And cry. I do find that I want to do that quite a bit right now.

I know the universe doesn't owe me a single thing but right now it feels like the scales are a touch out of balance.
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So it's getting on for 3am and I'm sitting and thinking and surfing random stupid stuff on the internet because for some reason the idea of going to sleep seems untenable. This has been my pattern now for over a month. I'm living on 3-4 hours of sleep per night and been an aching sleep deprived zombie at work which doesn't make for the most pleasant possible working days.

I have an appointment tomorrow at The Alfred hospital. Ostensibly it's because during my shoulder x-rays they saw a "spot" in my upper lung. They said that it's likely a transient thing but that they simply want to check it because if it *is* transient then it should have, well, transited by now. I've barely given it a thought and for some reason have been entirely successful in telling myself not to worry about it until a doctor says I should worry about it. What I'm planning to get done tomorrow is point out that while they looked at my shoulder and spine six weeks ago, I have a knee that aches even after only moderate walking and on which I'm now terrified to cycle or skate for fear of doing permanent damage and can we do an MRI scan now please? At this point I don't care what it costs. I want to know what's wrong. I want to know what I can do without causing permanent damage and I want to know what needs to be done to fix it so that I can arrange to have that done.

The first two point are to give me at least some use of my body back. I've gained about 5kg and dropped muscle mass at the same time. My clothes are getting tight and I"m starting to dislike how I look and feel self-conscious about it. My fitness has dropped to the point that I can feel it even with gentle walking...I'm not out of breath but I feel the difference in heart rate and effort and I do breathe harder than I used to and I feel it in the muscles of my legs where I wouldn't have even registered that I'd been doing anything before. My body is deteriorating in all sorts of ways and at this point I can't do a damn thing about it. I need to regain agency in this and to do that I need knowledge. Right then, let's do that. Once I have that knowledge I know what I can do without permanent damage. I don't *care* if it hurts, it's not like I've had much in the way of pain free moments for the past six weeks anyway so this will not be a big step.Just the knowledge that I'm reclaiming this body will be worth a very great deal of discomfort. The last point hopefully gets rid of the pain and puts me back on track to cycle commute (if I can't do that already anyway) and going back to train and work up to scrimmage. This will mean work but it will be such GOOD work and I so so so need to get started on it.

Of course all this is predicated on a good prognosis. I have no idea what the potential range of outcomes is and I'm so scared that it's going to be something that means I simply can't go back to the level of activity I've gotten used to. So I'm sleepless and not a little worried and at 3am there's not a single useful thing I can do except sleep. I have no idea why I'm so reluctant to do that and so I worry about that as well. This is not helpful.

This Saturday will be another round of testing. It should have been the day when I tested up to green star and became eligible to bout. Part of me really really doesn't want to be there and part of me is saying "Don't you *dare* walk away from scrimmage on a test day." They will need warm bodies there to NSO and there will be friends there testing. Honestly, too, there's part of me that really does want to be there.

I am going to fix this.
I am going to fix this.
I am going to fix this.

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