Kafkaesque problems: mold illness and mold avoidance

Things are so surreal right now.

I'm hotel-homeless. I can't find a sublet or airbnb in the area. I even started looking for regular rentals, but most of them want a year lease.

I'm definitely improving since leaving the deadly apartment. So I'm very grateful for that.

I have to keep reminding myself that I finally have hope for the future, so this is all a GOOD thing. Because the day-to-day reality can be kind of shitty.


I've had a few perfect, perfect days. I got done what needed to be done, I felt good and happy and hopeful, I saw great progress in my brain and body, things seemed to be falling into place, etc.

But for each of those days there's two where I feel muddled, ineffective, anxious, and surrounded by free-floating chaos.

What I'm trying to get done right now is hard enough for healthy people, but add in cognitive and physical disability, and it's a fucking mobius strip of unsolvable puzzles.

It feels like being told:
Here's a complicated math word problem in a foreign language, involving subjects you have never studied and systems of measurement you've never heard of.
If you don't finish the problem in time, with the correct answer, you will lose all of your money and your reputation as a smart and effective person.
You will be given a chemical (mold toxin) that makes you suddenly  feel hopelessly suicidal.
Everyone  will think you've gone insane (friends too, not just family and strangers).
Your health will fail in the most bizarre ways possible, for years on end. And the chemical cocktail given to you will make you feel like you're dying and make you wish you were dying, but delay that death for decades.

But the word problem is unsolvable, so you're frantically trying to solve at least *bits* of the problem, so as not to have to face all of the above-mentioned unsavory consequences of failure.


Now then. Impatient people who think you're solving a regular old easy word problem are watching you through chicken wire (oh, did I mention? you're also in a cage, with blinding spotlights on you.).

They are shouting advice at you, based on what they think the problem might be.  The most helpful people just sympathize, and smile at you through the chicken wire.
But no one is quite sure why you're tearing your hair out (what's left of it, because previous doses of the toxic chemical punishment have made half your hair fall out), or why you're anxious and confused and visibly trying not to cry.

So yeah, that's what toxic mold illness and beginner mold avoidance feel like today.