Signs and Portents

After last nights slightly disjointed post, I went pretty much immediately to bed. I woke up to the room spinning.

Why hello, Vertigo, I did not miss you one iota.

The thing about my vertigo is that, aside from really obvious things (like spinning and flying) and a few less-obvious things that have warning labels (like St. Johns Wort) I have very little idea what sets off a vertigo flare. Maybe it’s as simple as sleeping weird. Maybe it’s sinus issues, otherwise-asymptomatic ear infections, or dehydration. I’ve made arguments for all of the above, totally logical and rational arguments.

Today I woke up, the room spun, and I was suddenly, utterly convinced that this was because I had pissed Jesus off by going to Mass last night. I lay there in the dark until the sun had well and truly risen, shivering despite the heater and despite Amber next to me, thinking in well-worn circles as I dozed and unable to stop them.

It’s the worst I’ve been in a while, bad enough that I’d forgotten how terrifying it is when it’s happening. Bad enough to make me glad I’m not the right kind of religious to fall into religious scrupulosity with any regularity. I’m used to my usual kinds of obsession, at least.

I did finally manage to eat a little, and sleep a little, and I really ought to be in bed now.

I’m trying to “let go and let gods,” the gods in this case being Kuan Yin (who’s my go to for this sort of thing) and Aslan (since he’s as close to actually working with Jesus as I get). Lately I’ve been trying to practice this a bit with Mara as well, trusting her with my financial anxiety since that really is her department, and one of the things she asks of me is that I trust her to make sure things work out.

It’s slow going, especially after a setback like today, but I can see this lifting fast than it did last time. Slow going is still going.

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