Old candles

I have lit my Lux Perpetua candle that I have had sitting on my kitchen shelf for about 10 years.
It does not want to burn.
It has both discoloured to the point the Jesus has vanished from the label and become somehow unmelting - weird considering how misshapen from sunlight melting it is.

In other news, I have basically not left the house in a week.  So much being too faint to do everything.  Mostly it wasn't too awful, though I did have one near miss when i only just managed to faint into a wall, after it had very nearly been fainting into my Disney castle.

Friday last week, the day after my seizure and poop-disaster, I set fire to steaming vegetables - because I keep zoning out.  After which I have accepted that I'm not really in a being able to cook place.  So my diet then shifted to microwave meals and then things that the airfryer can do without my needing to pay any attention at all.

I spent most of the weekend under a blanket, feeling too crap to even watch TV.


Monday I had people turn up at my door, getting me out of a fever bed, to quiz me about my building.  The next day I discovered I had been quoted saying a bunch of stuff I don't remember in the Otago Daily Times.
I got a bit worried the fever meant I had germs, but based on the sudden attack of visible lupus symptoms my fever was my immune system busily attacking me.  So much butterfly rash and then skin sloughing off.

It was Tuesday before I put on actual clothes or stepped outside my door.  I grabbed some food with the help of my dad's car.  Then, in the afternoon, spurred on by feeling much less sick than I had been, I walked in to town for my regular weekly-ish plans with the Semi-Imaginary One.  By the time I got there I was starting to regret my hubris.  So I spent the afternoon inflicting a bunch of low level PDA on him to hide the fact I was using him to keep myself upright.
We are in a weird place with regard to my illness.  He seems to genuinely think I am hamming it up and making it seem worse than it is out of laziness, or maybe drama-hunting.  The last time I tried to actually have a serious conversation with him about it, he ended up suggesting that I could fix it all if I just practised positive thinking, and not being sick.
I understand how it happened.  At the start I didn't bring it up in any detail because I didn't want to scare him off.  And then he seems more of me when I am doing well.  So he doesn't seem to realise that what he thinks of as normal me is actually things going as well for me as they are able to.
And I don't try that hard to correct him, because I still think I will scare him away.
Because, fundamentally, I understand that I am too broken to be worthy of affection.

Doing stuff on Tuesday meant that I had to spent the entirety of Wednesday hiding under a blanket.  Only now on Thursday evening to I finally feel okay with sitting upright - enough to fill in this beast.  And to watch some TV.

Still, I think I might go back to my blanket, the nausea at being upright is kicking in again.


PS.  A week of extra time in bed has massively increased the amount that my flat smells like sheep.
Am deeply regretting using the warm duvet now.  Colder but less stinky is seeming much preferable - even though I know warmer is probably needful for my health.