When I lived in #toxicmold , on the odd occasion that I could drag myself out to meet a friend (typically after months of cancellations), I would write notes in my phone of topics we could talk about - cue cards essentially. My brain was so monumentally shot I lacked the ability to organically engage in conversation. I felt comatose. I couldn’t remember my own address, what year it was, my car rego, & would often lose my car upon going places (yes, my car). Since avoiding mould, my brain has rejigged to a certain extent, that within my own clear micro environment I feel vaguely human & conscious. The catch 22 is it’s easily toppled by the most minor of exposures venturing outside of this micro environment. I found myself getting anxiety today going into a group situation, because my brain fog was already bad, & I knew my brain would further shut down with the added presence of moulds & chemicals that adorn the world outside of my bubble. It’s a tough pill to swallow. In my micro environment, I zest for life. I even feel invincible at times. I can talk zealously on my phone, write somewhat lucidly, have sparks of charisma & humour; my dreams seem within reach - in short I feel so much more like me. But not being able to share me with the world outside of the shadows of society isn’t easy. Community is so vital to our core, to our biology, to our sense of well-being. I find I often walk away from events like today with my tail between my legs. I crave the day when I can socialise again freely, when I can hold a conversation that spills out organically & not staccato from a frazzled neurology. Can anybody else relate?
In other news, how quickly the sun & beach becomes a distant memory ☀️ With a night of rain battering my newly erected fly above the tent, & intermittent gusts of torrential rainfall, I’m cooped up in my car reminiscing on the feeling of intense sun kissing my skin.