People suck.

I'm in the middle of relapseville again.

I don't know if it's because of the cold I caught while visiting the folks in Daventry, the way I've been throwing caution to the wind and actually having a life the last few months or just a combination of the 2.
Either way, I havent been this bad physically since I first got the damned thing, mentally I've never been this bad - though I can explain why my mental state is so fucked up right now:

It all came about because of an impromptu night of clubbing my last night in daventry.
To start with it was a really really fantastic night. There was a slight hiccup in one pub when I had a couple of dizzy spells and a full on sleepy fit (one of the bouncers tried to throw me out thinking I was passed out drunk - imagine explaining that one eh?!) At that point I should've called it quits I guess and got the last bus back but I was with a big crowd of people I trusted and didn't want to ruin such a good night for everyone so I decided to just sit quietly in a corner when we got to the club.

When I tell you the music was fantastic, the atmosphere was buzzing and I was surrounded by people I love and trust maybe you can understand why I wasn't too concerned at the thought of passing out again - I'd had a few red bull and a couple of bottles of water (no alcohol, I no longer drink) So in we went.
Ria (my cousin) had dragged us there to see her boyfriend who is one of the resident DJ's so our little crowd was effectively doubled which made me glad I'd not ruined everyone's night by begging off and forcing us all to go home.
After about 30 minutes or so I had to go crash in the seating area, Ria, Jasmine, Kenny and Fliss all came with me and sat along the wall to keep an eye on my seemingly comatose form until I came around again. After a bit Ria and Jaz (my cousins) went to the bar and toilet respectively leaving me sat a little away from Kenny (my bro) and Fliss (his missus) who were deep in conversation.
A couple of moments later I felt a hand on my inner right thigh and someone trailing kisses up my neck. I wasn't impressed but figured since there were so many people with me it must be one of my crowd fecking about trying to wake me up despite my previous explanations of the futility of it. When there was no response from me this person started lifting my left hand up and repeatedly slapping it across my face and rubbing my arm over the top of my head, this led me to believe it was my brother as I'd told him how much I hated Stef doing this when he's in a wind up mood.
It pissed me off enough I got an adrenalin burst and managed to open my eyes.

When I saw a completely unknown male before me the adrenalin really kicked in and I punched him in the face with enough force to send him back into my brother who turned round and seeing this bloke all over me went nuts.
After I'd calmed him down I found a bouncer and pointed the wanker out to him explaining what he'd done - he walked over to the guy and spoke for a minute before laughing and walking away.
I went and sat back down then the reaction set in along with the shakes and the tears.

I worked on the door for 6 years, I dealt with tossers like that all the time and was damned good at my job. Now I can't even look out for myself never mind other people!
Even on my worst days with this illness I had that inner confidence, a core belief that no matter what I could still look after myself enough to keep safe and out of trouble.

In that second that belief was gone - it's taken me a year to realise that I can no longer look after myself. I feel like something important has been taken from me and that hurts.
I've suffered with this for over a year but this is the first time I've ever felt vulnerable and helpless as opposed to merely embarrassed by my sleepy fits.
That adrenaline burst only lasted a short while and if he'd had chance to recover or fight back I would've been toast because even if I did somehow find the energy to fight back, I no longer have the strength to do so.
It makes me want to scuttle back into my shell and become a hermit again.

Stef has somehow managed to convince me that the hermit life is not going to happen, but I can't help feeling as though this incident has completely rocked the foundations of my self-confidence.

Not only am I physically back to a state where I need help getting in and out of bed, bathing and getting to and from the toilet. I can't do anything more strenuous than wash a few plates without needing to lie back down for several hours. But now I feel like it's too dangerous for me to leave the flat on my own in case I have a sleepy fit.
It's really disheartening - I was doing so well, there was a lot of positive thinking going on, that I could finally start a college course, get a job, join a band...

All down the drain now. I feel like this is never going to end!

To top it off, I got a letter through from the DLA. They're stopping my benefits because they feel I no longer fit the criteria. The appeal process will not be fun and I won't be seeing this new specialist till February... I just want to bury my head somewhere and let it all just go away.