It’s like wading through thick, sticky mud. The strength behind each movement, each step, and each thought sucks me ever deeper into an imprisoning condition. Poor food choices signal that I’m struggling. Cravings for sugar, caffeine, and starchy bread move me to action. I rummage around the kitchen and root around the fridge like a honeybee searching for nectar-rich flowers. I seek out energy-rich pick-me-ups like my life depends upon them.
Habitual, essential, unregulated hunger. Fated to weight gain and floored by an orexin deficiency. These sugars will not fuel action. They may, with some luck, allow me to sail through the thick, sticky mud with some ease for a short while, at least. More often I am tipped into an uncontrollable slumber. And when I wake, I will be hungry for more.
There are days when the mud dries up and I feel light. Giving me a glimpse of a narcolepsy-free life. Memories of my life before narcolepsy have become faded and faint. Now fantasy, I yearn to be driven by opportunity instead of sandwiches and coffee. What was, is long gone. And what is, I wish to forget.
To forget is to be in charge. But this hard mud is manufactured. Carefully crafted from trial and error. Made by measurements, mitigation and management. The hard mud soon works against me. It tricks me into thinking that I can do more, enjoy life more. I slip. And just as Sisyphus is forced to push that heavy rock up the hill for eternity, the endless cycle to overcome listlessness begins again.
Narcoleptic Insights 