It was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I saw...

Mornings are such fragile things.
Real mornings that is. Not the bit where you drowsily hit snooze on the phone. The bit where you open your eyes and take proper steps towards consciousness. Those with a chronic illness or Mental Health problem may know whats coming next...
Mornings are a time of hope. And I am beginning to think that hope is something that the chronically ill should not have. You open your eyes, and for a moment, before the brain body connection has fully clicked in, you are normal. Doing a normal thing. Normally.
And then IT hits you. Whatever IT is for you. For EDSers its often a subluxation of the hip or shoulderor some joint pushed beyond tolerancd by long tension.
It may be that rolling over ready to get up reminds you that your mobility is fucked. It might be the tremor in your hand as you put your watch on. It might simply be the cloud of despair that is depression hitting you in the brain.
Whatever IT is, when IT hits another piece of your capacity for joy and life is rubbed off. Sanded down and salted. It hurts.
That was my morning.
I opened my eyes hugging something soft and yielding, my morning erection pressing hard into it.
It turned out that it was the pregnancy pillow I hug at night to stop hip and shoulder problems. But that wasnt the issue.
What hit me next was depression. My mind suddenly remembered it was mad.
This mad is quite disturbing. It comes along with anxiety and tremor and...well I think I am seeing flies. But they could be real. Everytime i grab the fly spray they arent there. Who knows.
I am doubting my ability to tell what is real. Except for my loss. That stays real.
I am trying to stay out late at the moment. This is mrsinkys part of the hokiday with foal and i do not want to interrupt them. Even though they are precious to me. They have rejected me. I have to live with that.
Soon it will be my foaltime. Probkem is dven tho mrsinky diesnt want me in her time I do want her in mine.
So it goes...