Thursday dawned beautifully. I was out bright and early raking and weed whacking in the front yard before joining my STAMMA group online at 10:30. And as soon as that call was finished, Anna-Mae arrived for lunch at Pinecone Park.
My visit with Anna-May has me praying I get no invitations. I want as little to do with people as possible until my speech gets better again. I had six seizures yesterday. When I forced myself to speak with Anna-May, I was veery tightly tensed up from the waist up, and my arms and neck were spasming all over the place. The only thing I wasn’t doing was dribbling.
I know this will pass; I just wish it would hurry up and pass. It’s been years since my speech became as bad as it is now. I have a Zoom call scheduled for today that will last roughly a minute. I just want to say hello and let her see why we can’t talk.
As I am right now, I prefer solitude.
Why have I suddenly gotten worse? I have absolutely no fucking idea. There is no explanation for variance in my symptoms. The doctors studying FND cannot provide answers to most questions about FND. It’s an untreatable condition. I’m neither sad nor angry, but I feel disconnected, and I don’t like how my abysmal speech interferes with my relationships. My friends stay true, but I can’t really converse with them. I just listen and make uh-huh noises and little laugh, but I love seeing them online.
The thing that’s hard to manage is fear. Fear, on the short term, of having to answer the phone, or talk to a clerk. And on the long term, that I won’t get better.
I’m going to try the monologue with David if I can. If I can’t do the monologue, I need to tell Heldor.
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I have new neighbours. We had a very warm meeting—the double handed handshake. It was sincerely happiness we shared. They are Colleen and Jorge, and they have a Doodle dog puppy. I am happy for me, for them and for Merrill and Leo.
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Friday was wet and so I lit the fire before heading out for a long walk in mild rain with Her Highness. Then it was home to read by the fire and to do little else. My plan is to rest thoroughly during these three wet days, in hopes of restoring my voice.
The rain is welcome. We hadn’t had any for quite a while, and I enjoy lighting a low fire and reading. Yesterday passed pleasantly. I spoke to no one at all, and I hope that helps me recover. I’ll see no one today either; I have no plans to speak to anyone. I don’t need to speak until the 10th, when I’m meeting with my gay friends to discuss the Halloween party — and, potentially, a summer party.
When we walked, I enjoyed the sweet fragrance I remember from damp Spring days of my youth. It’s funny, I hated rainy days during Summer holidays, but I remember them fondly for some reason. On rainy days, we’d be indoors, enclosed and forced to talk more and interact more. Perhaps that’s why they feel so warm to me now. Everything is to vitally green at this time of year, and the gentle rain adds to the lushness of my view.
But I can hardly wait for more good weather and more work in Pinecone Park.
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