Interesting Nightmare

*points at title* No, I'm not talking about the launch of the publishing company (though it's rather entertaining - in a weird way, and the launch's the reason for my being so quiet around here these weeks).

When I have fever (and with the defrosting of the last millimetres of my nerve VII, it happens a lot), I have nightmares. Usually, most nightmares dissolve from my brain when I stand up and go to the kitchen to make breakfast, but sometimes, I remember the nightmares.

I put a notebook next to my bed in order to write bits about the nightmare plots (years ago, I had a terrible nightmare - properly scary and all. I remember thinking that it'd make a very, very good story, and the moment I got up, "Poof!" most of it was gone. I still hope my brain will give me that plot bunny back one day - even if it's scary).

Last night's nightmare is still in my head. It's not a plot bunny candidate this one... It's just... odd.

It brought me back to my college days, back when I was still a student and I was a teacher as well. Until I sat for my PhD, I was afraid that something would happen, and my delightful, feverish brain brought me back to that time in my latest nightmare:

I was teaching at my old college (that was odd, because I taught a few classes at another college back then), and I was planning to sit for my PhD in a couple of weeks when someone from administration came to see me and informed me that they thought I was missing a unit for... my BA.

I protested that I could prove that I had my BA - and my MA, and my M.St, but they were going back to my BA and were quite cold.

No one was helping me until... one of my colleagues decided to fight for me. That colleague? Oh... just Mr Gary Sinise (let's blame that one on Criminal Minds, shall we?).

He did manage to help me, but he did it not in the way I wanted to prove that I had my BA, and I was quite angry.

He tried to apologize by bringing a small military band (like the ones that play at St James's Park) to play for me, and... I woke up.

It's very strange because Mr Sinise was quite nice, but the fear of losing all my hard work because someone had lost an old file of mine was quite vivid and unpleasant (yes, I do see the possible link with the stress caused by the company launch, thank you).

Back to work...

See you "soon"...

Dealing with PTSD

How and why I ended up with PTSD today isn't the important thing (in this post, or in my life). My bottom line is that I've got to deal with that, and "traditional" ways of facing that condition didn't work for me.

Just like the sword of Damocles that is the Void that can make me spiral again into depression and make me try to do maths in order to find the right length of rope, PTSD is just always around the corner.

I'm always wary of PTSD attacks because they can make me slip into the Void, and that becomes even more dangerous.

I try to control the Void with plants, and good books, series, and films.

I had to come up with something (something that's slightly barmy) in order to tame my version of PTSD anxiety.

Writing and good things works for both the Void and PTSD, but when I can feel PTSD creeping up on me, I've discovered that my mild OCD can help a bit because I need rituals. Since nothing (therapy or whatever) helped before, I found out that I can silence the angst playing computer games until quiet comes back.

Last year, a nightmare of a biped at work accused me of things I never was guilty of, and I ended up creating a huge file proving that I was the victim in all this. No one at work thought that it was very important (they believed me, but the guilty twat was never really punished for stressing me). I knew that I was innocent, but the situation started a nasty episode where I had panic attacks, I couldn't sleep properly, and I had very graphic nightmares. For weeks, I was a shadow of myself, and it's only when I realized that playing Mah-jong or Minesweeper could tame the inner monster that I found some relief ['If I win X games, everything's gonna be fine.'].
Right now, I'm away from work, and the people who should be answering me are silent (these bipeds have been silent for weeks, and even if May looks like Swiss cheese on the calendar because of the number of Bank Holidays where we're parked, they should have answered me days ago - coz they can't have been all caught in the same massive accident and be stuck in hospital right now); in consequence, I'm imagining all sorts of apocalyptic scenario that have me ending up living under a bridge or feeding the river fish.
It took me a bit of time to pinpoint the very first signs of a possible PTSD issue, but I can try to do something by writing (and now, you're included in the equation; lucky you) and by playing against the computer until I stop hyperventilating (that's my DIY version of "Let's do something against that sodding PTSD").
Honestly, the panic attacks and general anxiety suck.

Message to Some Early Birds, from a Bat

Once upon a time, I could get up early.

First, it was when I was in prep school and in my first years of college; when I had to be in class at 8:30 or 9 am (on the other side of town). And I did it.

Then, it was work. Back when I was in the (not) delightful school that I nicknamed bedlam, I had to be in the suburbs at 8:30 am (that meant getting up at 6 am and leaving home at 7:15 am).

I did it.

If work was not currently blissfully scheduled in the afternoons and evenings, I'd do it again. Because I'm not lazy. I'd be properly knackered, but I'd do it.

The problem is:

a - my classes are all after tea time, so I get home late, have dinner late, prepare my next lesson or mark essays or whatever very late, and then... I edit for work, or I write (this blog, short stories, poems, plays, novels,...). My schedule is afternoon/evening night (let's face it, I seldom go to bed before 3 am).

b - I've developed a delayed sleep phase disorder, and that insomnia's little cousin is a pain in the... neck. Since my nerve froze (see previous post on the topic), my sleep pattern has been utterly mad. I can go to bed at 10 pm if I want; I'll toss and turn until 4 am - at best.

Once I fall asleep, I sleep well, but, for the moment, I go to sleep when the birds wake up... and this brings me to another variety of birds: bipeds who get up at the crack of dawn, look at you as if you were from outer space and think you're lazy idiots for not being caffeinated and ready to embrace the day at 6 am.

I know people who think that "the early bird catches the worm" is the only way to live, and I know that I'm not officially working nights (after all, I could edit and write in the morning, right?).

But... this is the way I am (for the moment, at least).

Am I hurting anyone by getting up at noon or 3pm? No.

Can I do otherwise without slowing down my nerve healing? Probably not.

Am I lucky that my work allows me to do that? Hell, yes! And I know it, ta.

Am I being judged for the way I live? Yes. Just this morning (my morning), a relative woke me up, and I lied about that because I could feel on the phone that I was being judged (side note: according to my relatives, I'm not really ill, so I should just be quiet and be like the rest of the world - their world, not mine).

I could end this by saying: live and let live, but I'll use something that popped into my poor head years ago...

The early bat catches the gnat.

*curtseys & hops off the soap box*