I had a fit the other day. I knew I would. All the signs were there, the broken sleep, the twitches, the absences.
It's been a while and I was due one, it had been building up inside me. And then I fell.
Lately, I have been under a lot of stress, swiftly followed by incredible relaxation, then stress again. Changes of pace like this affect my brain. It's kind of like flicking the light on and off lots of times in short succession, eventually the bulb will go.
I started a new job working for a charity. It is a lovely office and I enjoy working there, but I have a short time to learn the ropes as the boss is leaving soon and I have been pushing myself hard. This combined with the fact that none of the computers seem to communicate with each other, or other hardware, makes even simple jobs difficult. I have made it my mission to sort the office out so that anyone can use it, no mean feat even in a small office like this one.
I'm also moving house. House moving is supposed to be one of the most stressful things in the world. Above war, divorce and kidnap apparently. Which is why I was pleased to find a 3 bedroom flat for 500 pounds within a couple of days of looking.
I felt amazing, I had somewhere to live with my brother, a new job, lots of gigs lined up, a festival to prepare for and I had finished the first draft of Dirtbox. I was happy.
It was about this point that the unravelling began. I was in Witney, about to perform at Fat Lils, when the arm fell off my glasses. Some people would see this as an omen, a portent of things to come but not me. Largely because that's balls. I needed new glasses was the thought in my head. I stole some gaffer tape from a nearby drumkit and did a quick patch job and noone was any the wiser. The perfect crime.
The next day I was packed and ready to go the Green Man festival. I had my big tent(two bedrooms) which I was sharing with my friend, rabbitinahat, and I will tell that full tale at a later date. Needless to say, I had a great time. I was totally relaxed. However, just before leaving to go there I recieved a phone call from MEad property services informing me that despite paying a bond on the flat, despite signing the papers, the landlord had rented it to someone else. I now had just over a week to find a new place to live.As I was going to be in the middle of a field for 4 days, the window was closing quickly. But I had a great time nonetheless. I totally destressed.
This may have been an error.
Remember the light bulb analogy I mentioned earlier? This is where it starts coming into play. I unwound hugely and every iota of stress left my body and mind. I then returned to work, where the printer stopped working while I was the only one in the office and my main job was to get 500 letters printed and sent out. I was also trying to find a new place to live and getting no reply from Mead.
My stress levels were rising swiftly, like some one had removed a brick from a damn and it was pushing its fellow bricks out of the way.
It's okay, I thought, tonight I'm going to Carls house and he's going to cook me a meal. That'll remove all stress.
It was a lovely night. But then the morning came again. A late night followed by an early morning is one of the things that is most likely to cause seizures. I know that, but I had to go to work anyway.
So I got up. My dressing gown was on, my glasses perched on my head and then
Not a verbal stutter, a physical stutter. A repetitive twitch that precedes the main event.When that happens, I know what is to come.It's an uncomfortable feeling that is hard to even talk about. To think it, is to feel the same helplessness i feel when i'm having it. The worst thing is that every time I feel I can stop myself. My mind still awake, filled with false hope that I can control myself, that this won't happen.
My teeth clench, my body tensed
My muscles TENSE and r e l a x as I head downwards, able to see the corner of the bed looming upwards before I black ou...
I awake soon after, confused and clumsy with no memory of the events. Conversations could have been had, food eaten and I can't remember anything.
All I remember is the place I awaken, often my bed, occasionally a hospital, sometimes a corridor, under a desk, on a road.
Every muscles aches after their pavement workout and I know what has happened. I am bruised, exhausted and groggy so I generally sleep.
I can usually feel whether I chewed on my tongue. Sometimes there is blood, often bruising and then, within a few days, the wounds open, my tongue screams in pain and eating is kept to a minimum. I grain of salt stabs into the nerves, immobilising me with pain.
Conversation is perfunctory and blunt, only when necessary.
But I heal. I always heal and carry on as normal.