for the second time this year i think i seem to have been struck by a mystery illness, giving me the first sign that something was up on tuesday but never quite coming to a head, just feeling tired, malaisey, some vague feeling of gastronomic distress that never shifts, perhaps coming to a head today but who knows, and what even the fuck is it, do i need to start spraying down my groceries with alcohol like it’s 2020, sanitize my hands every 5 minutes like andy, i knowwww, first post in forever and i don’t know why, nothing in me again, too sick to write, too well to have anything to write about, or is it the creeping suspicion that i am not quite alone, not quite as private as i had thought, need a new secret place, one for emma and one for fucking nobody, feel like i’m in trouble all the time, or that everyone is mad at me, am i going to lose my job, am i dying, is the garden the only thing i care about, did i say as much to sharon, what the fuck is wrong with me, did i finally learn at age 42 where the diaphragm is, middlemarch is my favorite in the march trilogy, the feeling that i must come off the welly b again, every blanket is a weighted blanket when you have a cat, it’s just not doing the thing that it did before and getting all the worst side effects even at the lowest dose, maybe try microdosing again if i can stomach it, just long to sleep, or be in a coma, for the first time in about 20 years i have a therapist that i’m afraid of losing, tired dead eyes, no family, can’t depend on anyone anymore but i have a number of people that are dependent on me, hospital fantasy, drink more water, can i justify having another bath this week, did i catch this thing from emma, is it time to retire, bunny garden

why do i only want to write when my brain can’t even remember what words mean anymore . . . forcing myself to get this out now, it is hard to feel even on good days that i am not in some way at the end of my life . . . there’s nothing left now, just wrapping up . . . i don’t know why ben’s message left me feeling like shit but it did and that got him blocked and deleted. there’s been a lot of that recently. should i be concerned? ever smaller circles. at least there are still a few good ones willing to stick around but i do not know where any of this is going. just feels like oblivion. probably doesn’t help that i recently took a voyage into the abyss, which is to say starve my brain of cobalamin, which in retrospect probably explains all the posts about feeling nothing, blank, words not making sense anymore. and i guess i’m feeling better now, but i don’t think i survived fully intact. got a taste for it and i want to go violently into that good night. and though i’m feeling better, i haven’t woken up to a brighter future, or any future at all. it’s just a huge blank. i’ve lost so much in the last five years, they stripped back so many layers and now it’s plain that there’s nothing there. the only thing that makes me want to keep going is the garden. good job it’s a big project i guess. or that they say you’re never finished. i just wish there was someone i could have materially depended on all this time but it’s just been me. other people depend on me and i’ve nothing left to give now. no one is going to carry me. they took my team away from me, the one that i’ve spent the last five years trying to shape, trying to make it a safe environment for the amazing women i work with to thrive, the only women-majority team i’ve ever worked on, and they just took me off it while i was on leave without even telling me. i’m so done.

. . . . in which i am back in the old house. i am in the back room sitting on the sofa. i notice one, then hundreds, maybe thousands of wasps entering through the high window. i flee and shut the door behind me. i tell sue that there is a problem and that i will call my pest control guy. she gestures passively that she is unhappy with his prior work by pointing to the mess under the stairs, mostly hers. there is a system of cables that are awkwardly placed, but i can’t figure out how it could be done better. in exasperation i end the conversation by outlining that there are thousands of wasps in the house, and that she would have to figure it out, in spite of her obstinacy . . . .

. . . . in which i am recommending to doug a bbc documentary that emma mentioned. it is about a heartthrob european hamster surgeon. as i am looking into it some more, i realize that emma is presenting the documentary, or she has made her own fan follow up. the hamsters are strange creatures with sloping foreheads and long snouts, like a pangolin, about the size of a possum. i later find myself in the super market and emma is there with her partner. i can barely hold myself up and drape myself over my trolley. i marvel by contrast how competent she seems, how in love, and i feel a sense of acceptance come over me as i remain almost paralyzed, hoping she has not seen me in this state . . . .

. . . . in which i am in a strange house, sleeping. i go to the bathroom which is in the next room. there is a sense of unreality here and i realize after some time i am high up above the porcelain sink, as if floating. i recognize that i am in danger and try to get down. outside i hear a noise, a scurrying, and i wonder now if i could actually hear george outside. back in the dream, i go to look. there is an intruder. it appears to be my uncle, and he says nothing but looks at me menacingly. after some time i decide to lunge at him, but he backs away as if also floating . . . .

. . . . in which i think i have awoken, everything is exactly the same, i hear a noise from outside the bedroom like a lowpass filter being rolled off, suggesting a door that has opened, i try to figure out which one it is, i hear noises, i am unsure whether to hide or remain perfectly still, but unfortunately i do not have a choice in the matter, i am now aware that the bedroom door is open and amanda has entered, though there is something eerie about her, she is neither threatening nor reassuring and does not say anything, she is dressed in pure white, i am not completely sure it is her, i try to indicate that i am in distress but i cannot talk so i try to scream instead, i am aware now there is an amber light outside the window blinking on and off, still trying to scream or move and nothing is happening save for the most muffled of strangulated noises . . . .

. . . . in which i am another three dimensional victorian labyrinth, harrodsish, with sharon, here to see some kind of miniature show in a little nook that is elaborately ornamented, sharon is slightly in front of me and when it is time to shuffle in two men sweep in from the side and forcefully push them out of the way, i remain passive but when the presenter objects i feel unexpectedly empowered to take control of the situation, i demand that they leave immediately, and when they refuse i escort them forcefully out myself, i stop on the way to speak to a staff member asking for security to take it from here but they inform me that they don’t do that, so i keep going . . . by the time i am outside i realize that one of the men is now a woman, or maybe always was, or i got the wrong person . . . .

1. the thought that i am blank, there is nothing there
2. the thought that the fire has gone out and cannot be relit
3. the thought that i do not desire anything
4. the thought that there is no creative urge in me
5. the thought that i might be a ghost
6. the thought that i continue to wander around performing some of the things i know i’m supposed to
7. the thought that there is no joy in doing that
8. the thought that there is nothing at all in doing that
9. the thought that sometimes i can and sometimes i cannot
10. the thought that i do not understand what the difference is
11. the thought that when i can it is not because i want to
12. the thought that when i cannot it is not because i do not want
13. the thought that this should terrify me
14. the thought that none of this is ever coming back
15. the thought that none of them are ever coming back
16. the thought that this day, over and over, for the rest of time
17. the thought that i might not have that much time left
18. the thought that what if the tms does not work
19. the thought that what if it does and they put me on call the day after i go back like they did last time
20. the thought that what if it doesn’t and i go back to work anyway and they put me on call the day after i go back like they did last time
21. the thought that it’s only downhill from here
22. the thought that i’ll never get a job in this town again
23. the thought that why did they scale down my app
24. the thought that have they suspended my pay
25. the thought that there is no safety net
26. the thought that i’m fucked if i can’t make it out of this
27. the thought that i will never understand what i did wrong
28. the thought that the ship has sailed on that one
29. the thought that i lied to a grieving woman and it didn’t do me any good anyway
30. the thought that she’s remarrying and i still haven’t got divorced
31. the thought that all that happened on the same timescale
32. the thought that i might not be good at anything
33. the thought that i am broken
34. the thought that all of this broke me
35. the thought that what didn’t kill me has left me enfeebled
36. the thought that they cannot fix me
37. the thought that i cannot seem to focus on anything
38. the thought that should i even be driving
39. the thought that it is not ok to dissociate so much when you are driving a car
40. the thought that i cut that person up because i was just hoping for the best and that is not a good plan
41. the thought that what will i do if this doesn’t work
42. the thought that whether it works or not she’s never coming back

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