(no subject)

The NetGear router, it turns out, is completely functional and fine.

The GOD FORSAKEN POWER SUPPLY for it, on the other hand, is TOTALLY FSCKED.

Of course, I was figuring that the whole thing was FUBAR'd, so I'd dug out the BlackBox hub I had... and noted that the voltage on that power supply was the same that the NetGear unit wanted... and then followed a hunch.

At the moment, there's a horrid, ugly Cat-5 line roping down the the hall and across the dining room ceiling... but it works.

ANd now, I believe I'll try and sleep.

*hugs*

(no subject)

Thus far, today has been -MUCH- better than yesterday or the day before. No major disasters, nothing blowing up in my face. Pain levels are still up, but they're stable at the level they've been at for the last week; at least they didn't spike upwards again. Every little bit helps, right?

I discovered today that I already -AM- on the 'watch' list at the clinic; my therapist has called twice today, checking up on me, and Megan admitted to talking to her yesterday and giving updates as well. While it's nice to know that somebody cares, it -really- bugs me to be a bother. I just want to get to Thursday's appointment with the Psych and do whatever it is that needs to be done to get me stable again - it's difficult to try and chat/converse with someone when they're staring at you with that look of morbid fascination.

*holds up a hand*

Some of the folks that read my journal tend to be very quick to assume that I'm 'at risk'. I'm not a danger to myself, and have NO impulse or desire to injure myself or 'end it all'. I'll admit to being more tired than I thought possible.. and I have cracked 'just shoot me already' jokes, but it's not meant in any way to be taken seriously. Humor is simply a defense mechanism, and my sense of humor has ALWAYS had a touch of macabre. Yes, I'm pretty damned whacked out at the moment. Yes, the depression and pain and panic attacks have opened a very LARGE can of whup-ass on me. Yes, I'm frazzled and fragile and brittle and likely to burst into tears. (Right now, I'm dissolving into tears about as often as the average just-entered-puberty boy gets an erection, if that's any indication.) But I'm hanging on, and intend to continue to do so.

I'll repeat: I'm not a danger to myself. Why'm I being so persistent on the point? Because someone who knew me -years- ago has now found this journal. What they found in the last few entries apparently panicked them, and they appeared at my door at 10:30am to do some sort of intervention. (You know I adore you, Rachel, but I outweigh you 3:1 and the idea of you trying to pummel me to the floor is enough to make me wet myself giggling, okay?) So let me be very -very- specific:

• I'm not suicidal
• I'm not 'abusing' my meds to seek temporary relief
• I'm not blading again - This is the one Rae was expecting to find, given what I was wrestling with when she and I parted company. But I learned a good while back that it did absolutely nothing to help, long term. At least one of my friends here on LJ has gone a few rounds with me on the topic of cutting (and another's gonna find all 350# of me at her front door, armed with a bat, if she doesn't start answering my my IMs and freakin talk to me. You don't stay in my home as a friend and then ignore me, girl.). It's a non answer, and it's not something I've slid back to.

*rereads, then exhales* Okay, that covers the heavy stuff as best as I can manage at the moment. A special thank-you to jhyanmar... who remembered that I tend to forget to eat when the pain levels escalate. He prodded me earlier this afternoon after discovering I'd hardly eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. I microwaved some stuff and sat and did the mechanical chewing thing until it was gone. *peers at the time* EEEP! I need to go to the store! Yipes! Um... bai!