Open Sorcery

Tag: NEISvoid

  • Going on day 2 of gut nastiness.

    Holy crap have the dreams been weird with this thing.

    I dreamt of an alternate January 1916 or so where the people that would go on to become the Bolsheviks were secretly nigh immortal sorcerers and shit. They turned the tide of WWI, mopping the floor with Germany especially. That one was the weirdest.

    Then the second one involved meeting up with a very fictional “old friend” of mine. We spoke about software vs hardware, and she said that it seemed to her that software was often written by people that hated themselves and the user. But hardware is crafted by people who hate themselves, the user, and the world, and want to see it all burn.

    And in the third dream, I was some trust fund kid going to high school in Manhattan. My dad wanted to teach me the value of business or some shit, so I bought a club. Business was really good, so when I found out the prom afterparty was being run by a fucking stick in the mud, a bunch of friends and I decided to boycott it. I recalled a post I had seen that said something to the effect of “very little in life can’t be improved by three things: weed, Popeye’s chicken, and Looney Tunes reruns.” So I decided to test that theory. I had my faithful manservant purchase vast quantities of the devil’s finest lettuce, buckets upon buckets of chicken, and convert the main part of the club into a comfy sitting area. It turned out to be the best part of prom 🤣

    I hope you enjoyed this nonsense from my cooked brainhole.

    -Allēna

  • We seem to have caught whatever GI nastiness that has been going around lately on top of everything else.

    It feels worse than standard stomach flu, not as bad as the actual flu.

    No idea what the hell is up here. So I’ve been curled up in bed watching Supernatural with Zelda and trying not to puke my guts out.

    -Allēna

  • As the lab results roll in, I’m hard at work on medical theories because that’s what we do..

    It’s plausible that due to Hera‘s incredible (heavy sarcasm) DIY MKULTRA scheme she put us through in our late teens and early twenties, the high doses of lithium we were on damaged our pituitary gland, adrenals, and kidneys while our thyroid bounced back, aided by the Vitamin B100 experiment Laz started a few months ago. HRT has quite possibly made it worse because (hypothetically) nothing that’s supposed to process testosterone normally can or will.

    Huzzah. I hate this existence sometimes. Fuck psychiatry. We didn’t even need to be on lithium anyway. But here we are, persevering through this existence by means of sheer fucking spite. I’ve written a note to our PCP about this theory already. I’ll see what he says.

    -Theo, standing in for Allēna today because she fell asleep.

  • Taking a break from watching Heroes for now because Doom Guy sent me a video and I replied partially in Japanese.

    I didn’t know I knew enough Japanese for that particular brain fart, but here we are. All hail the Brainhole. I’m also very tired and probably need more sleep than I was able to get last night.

    Wheeee.

    I’m going to attempt a nap, but we all know that that sort of thing is hit or miss with this fucking body. I might also be coming down with fucking noro. Again.

    More magic to come, just later..

    -Allēna

  • Currently sitting in the phlebotomy waiting room with Emerson.

    I haven’t had a blood draw in so long because it’s so damn difficult to get up here. I’m full of surprises, I guess…

    They’re drawing for a thyroid level on me. I didn’t know this, so this should be interesting. I’ll let you know how it goes.

    -Allēna

  • Getting Back on Track

    When we were younger, mid teens or so, our family would always accuse us of having a one track mind and say that we needed to “get off the track” when we hyperfocused on something a bit too hard for their taste or comfort.

    I, Allēna, am particularly bad about that. I’m very tightly wound, and I feel like a compressed coil much of the time. If something releases pressure on that coil, I might just.. Erupt and spill everywhere. I know much of that pressure is self imposed now that I’m an adult and is the result of a life filled with trauma, and as a result I am slowly but surely learning that I can learn to relax and I’ll still be safe and not everything will go to shit. I don’t have to be this poised image of perfection, and nor does everyone else. Not all the time, anyway. I view my AuDHD/CPTSD pattern recognition as both a blessing and a curse in this respect. It makes me very anxious, but I also get a lot done and a lot done in a way that gets results.

    That being said, I’ve been slowly learning now that life is becoming more stable to make time for my special interests, both old and new. That hyperfocus, that “track”, if you will, is what energizes me. I can’t switch mental trains of thought or tasks easily like a neurotypical or someone who has a different “flavor” of ADHD can. However, whatever I’m doing, if I care about it and enjoy it, I give it my all. I throw my entire soul into it, and gods, does  it make me feel alive again.

    It never hasn’t..

    I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to relax through my burnout like a neurotypical will. However, I do know that engaging with people and things that make me feel alive again when I’m up for the task is the closest thing I feel to R&R.

    And lately, I’ve been giving an old comfort show of mine a re-watch – Heroes. It’s an odd one. I don’t know many people who have seen it at all, but many actors I love are in it, and we watched most of it with our family back in 2011-12 or so, mostly on Wednesday nights.

    It has been an odd experience. Very comforting, yet I only remember about half of it. I think it’s because while I loved it, I was likely severely dissociated at the time, largely focused on other things and people, and may not have been the only headmate in front, but didn’t realize it at the moment.

    I don’t know. What I do know is this – it seems to have been a huge influence on my audio drama The Third Prophecy a little over a half decade later and one of the shows that made my system realize we were plural, but we couldn’t admit that to anyone for several more years.

    I’ll need to keep watching. I’ll keep y’all posted.

    -Allēna

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  • Abdomen, we have a problem.

    And by “problem”, I mean “the possibility of an ovarian cyst”.

    I didn’t sleep well last night and as such slept through most of the morning and into the early afternoon because fuck this particular noise with a cactus.

    I’ve never had an ovarian cyst before that I know of, but anything to do with the reproductive organs and this fucking body hurts like a bitch. This is no exception.

    I’ll be back later when I’ve received caffeine, more sleep, or both. Which means the next post will likely be tomorrow. At least there are cute cats here..

    -Allēna

  • Challenges

    Ah yes. An interesting prompt.

    What is the biggest challenge you will face in the next six months?

    Staying alive, in all honesty. We live in a hellscape and I’m under a lot of stress right now being a repository of knowledge and stress buffer/mediator for a lot of people. It’s so bad right now that I don’t know how I feel personally about a lot of the situations I’m the human DMZ in, and I am currently too exhausted to try. Alexithymia and chronic fatigue are bitches and a half.

    I’m still trying to care for myself as best as possible in all of this, finding a balance is just…. Difficult. It’s one of the reasons my phone is eternally on Do Not Disturb. It gives me some semblance of artificially manufactured peace and quiet amidst all the chaos.

    I think in another life, I would have made a great emergency medical technician.

    -Allēna

  • The 27th anniversary of our stroke is today.

    We call it Brainhole.

    Mirthy Brainhole to you and yours.

    There may be cake today. TBD??

    -Allēna

  • Object impermanence thoughts..

    When we were younger, Xavier would often help us clean up our room and things because we would find it extremely overwhelming due to the sheer amount of crap we had (and frankly didn’t need or want in hindsight) and the fact that we would forget where we put the shit we did want five minutes later.

    So he’d have us make up our bed and use it as a staging area, gently but firmly guiding us through sorting our things into piles of shit to throw away, shit to file in certain cabinets, and generally keeping us on task as a body double. It was much easier to clean that way.

    He wouldn’t yell, he’d crack jokes and tell stories, he was a great person to clean with. He himself was neurodivergent to shit and his office was quite often a wreck, but the man was a goddamned genius and he was one of the only people who could motivate me in particular calmly.

    Memories of cleaning with him are some of the only fond memories of doing chores we have. Most of the rest are very traumatic and unpleasant.

    I got to thinking about cleaning with him because I just dumped my afternoon dose of meds out on my bed to see what I was doing better, using the bed as a staging area like he used to do with me..

    I miss him.

    -Allēna