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1. I posted to the therapy dog page to let them know about Henry. Got a lot of sympathy (which I appreciated, but was still hard to handle).
1a. Apparently, the meme there is that dogs go over the Rainbow Bridge. They have a picture of a whole bunch of dogs on a grassy field at the end of a rainbow, captioned "The Rainbow Bridge Greeting Committee." Which is kind of cool, but... Valhalla is for great warriors who died in battle, who are collected to be an army of the dead to fight in the last battle. They spend their days hacking each other apart in glorious battle, and their nights partying. That's... not Henry.
1b. I got a sympathy card in the mail yesterday with his name and picture on the front. It was sweet and unexpected, but got me choked up again. Tearing up a bit now. He was a good friend.
2. Had my appointment with the sleep doctor on Wednesday. I told her the schedule wasn't sustainable and not worth the price. I'm now off the Hetlioz and back on a free-running schedule. She's looking into other medications and gave me a referral to another specialist.
2a. Getting off the Hetlioz felt like hitting the finish line on a marathon. I just collapsed. Slept 11 hours the first night, and have been deep in recovery mode since. I'm far more worn out than I'd realized. Yesterday, I had breakfast over an hour later than I should because I was too tired to even lift my head off the pillow.
2b. (Or not.) This means I'm even more hypersensitive than usual, my brain is such a soggy mess I can't even think of an analogy that accurately conveys how hard it is to think, and my emotions are raw and mercurial. It's the "I want to grab something by the throat and punch it in the face for no reason, but I'm too tired to move" phase of exhaustion/recovery. Yay.
3. Naturally, as I'm dealing with all of the above, a possible real estate location shows up, and I'm being rushed along faster and five steps ahead of where I can think by someone who keeps missing or talking past the main point of whatever in trying to say at the time. I'm not sure whether to be afraid, pissed off, resentful, or cautiously optimistic.
3a. It's taken far too long to find a space. We've had too many deals fall through. I want to get started already. But I'm not sure about the place, and I'm in no condition to handle any of it.
3b. But it seems like the second I say "Okay, maybe we can take half a step forward. I'm not even barely functional, but I want to at least keep the option open" I get hit with a long list of things that need to be done ASAP so we can charge ahead.
4. Time to get moving so I can listen in on a meeting to which I likely have nothing to contribute and am also likely not to be able to process.
1a. Apparently, the meme there is that dogs go over the Rainbow Bridge. They have a picture of a whole bunch of dogs on a grassy field at the end of a rainbow, captioned "The Rainbow Bridge Greeting Committee." Which is kind of cool, but... Valhalla is for great warriors who died in battle, who are collected to be an army of the dead to fight in the last battle. They spend their days hacking each other apart in glorious battle, and their nights partying. That's... not Henry.
1b. I got a sympathy card in the mail yesterday with his name and picture on the front. It was sweet and unexpected, but got me choked up again. Tearing up a bit now. He was a good friend.
2. Had my appointment with the sleep doctor on Wednesday. I told her the schedule wasn't sustainable and not worth the price. I'm now off the Hetlioz and back on a free-running schedule. She's looking into other medications and gave me a referral to another specialist.
2a. Getting off the Hetlioz felt like hitting the finish line on a marathon. I just collapsed. Slept 11 hours the first night, and have been deep in recovery mode since. I'm far more worn out than I'd realized. Yesterday, I had breakfast over an hour later than I should because I was too tired to even lift my head off the pillow.
2b. (Or not.) This means I'm even more hypersensitive than usual, my brain is such a soggy mess I can't even think of an analogy that accurately conveys how hard it is to think, and my emotions are raw and mercurial. It's the "I want to grab something by the throat and punch it in the face for no reason, but I'm too tired to move" phase of exhaustion/recovery. Yay.
3. Naturally, as I'm dealing with all of the above, a possible real estate location shows up, and I'm being rushed along faster and five steps ahead of where I can think by someone who keeps missing or talking past the main point of whatever in trying to say at the time. I'm not sure whether to be afraid, pissed off, resentful, or cautiously optimistic.
3a. It's taken far too long to find a space. We've had too many deals fall through. I want to get started already. But I'm not sure about the place, and I'm in no condition to handle any of it.
3b. But it seems like the second I say "Okay, maybe we can take half a step forward. I'm not even barely functional, but I want to at least keep the option open" I get hit with a long list of things that need to be done ASAP so we can charge ahead.
4. Time to get moving so I can listen in on a meeting to which I likely have nothing to contribute and am also likely not to be able to process.