Broken promises

Another broken promise. I'm not surprised at this point. Apparently a short text conversation with Steve two months ago, primarily about his upcoming wedding, made his fiancee feel uncomfortable. I didn't know this until the other day when I asked how things were going.

So I said, "Alright, I'll leave you be." Deleted his contact info. Deleted all of our recent messages. Deleted his email. Blocked both of them on fb again. I was trying to be nice. See if maybe over time a friendship could happen.

So much for him saying that he'd always be there for me. But I'm not surprised. People always leave or make excuses eventually. However, I'm now with everyone else in giving their marriage two years. I was the optimistic one saying five years.

Speaking of break up, there's a whole big mess going on with two friends of Frank and I. Case (another friend) and I are playing go between and counselors. Honestly, the best thing for both of them is to be away from each other. They bring out the worst in themselves and each other.

But this is what I do really well. Picking up the pieces of everyone else's lives.

I want to fuck you up, just like you did to me

I want to fall to pieces, but I can't afford to so I'll keep going until I can't.

Just fuck Trump. Seriously. Making it even more difficult to get insurance and it's gonna be 4x more expensive next year than this year. And I just can't. Fuck.

And I had a super messed up dream last night about Steve getting married. For some unknown reason I was there with Frank and Chris. The bridesmaids were in horrid hot pink dresses and a matching cloth going down the aisle. I blanked out on the actual ceremony. Didn't go to reception. Ended up the next day asleep on something where everyone was staying the night.

Even in dream, everything felt so wrong. Like my brain was trying to force me out or get me to notice it was a dream. I'm just like...why dream about this stupid stuff in the first place?? Ugh

And even just the brief conversation with Steve screwed me up. Really badly. I wanted to self harm just in some attempt to get the yuck out of me. I didn't, but I haven't felt that way in quite some time.

I want to talk to him. Just me talking, him listening. So he really gets how much he broke me. So he understands all the little things that started to drive me insane. How I defended him over and over again bc I thought he'd be better, he more, keep his word. Because his apology doesn't mean a damn thing without understanding. And I don't want him to apologize. I'm sick of him apologizing. I want him to get how much he fucked me over and have to live with that for the rest of his life.

Just like I have to live with it. As has been evidenced lately, guys are stupid.

Guess there's a reason I'm a masochist?

I'm so stupid. I messaged Steve just to congratulate him on his engagement. And it led to a conversation. It was nice. He was nice.

Now? I want to hit his stupid face or break something.

I hate that he still can make me smile. That his apologies make me cry.

Stupid stupid stupid girl.

Hello again

Sorry I haven't been active since early last month. Just a whole lot more medical stuff going on. Going to a new therapist and adjusting to that. I ended up in the ER...always fun. That led me to seeing a GI doctor and having an upper scope done. Good news, they didn't find anything. Bad news, they didn't find anything lol. So I suspect a colonoscopy is in my future. Or it might be my back causing abdominal pain...cuz ya know that's a thing.

I finally got into pain management. There was a lot of hassle and miscommunication involved. It just got resolved yesterday so that should say a lot. But, it's all sorted. I have follow up in Dec. They're giving me more pain meds than I actually need. Could also be that it's new so that's why it's hitting me so hard. Tramadol did the same thing when I was on it briefly. This is like Tramadol, except it doesn't interact with all the meds.

Frank and I have been really good. He's busy working. I'm trying to do what I can every day. We see friends regularly. Frank went to a concert with them just last week. I can't do loud noises and the standing room only.

We did get a new kitty! His name is Morgana, after a black and white cat from our favorite video game, Persona 5. He looks black and white, but we discovered in bright light he has dark brown hair mixed in with the black. So more mocha. He's 7-8 months old. We don't know for sure because he was a stray hanging out around one of our friend's places. The older girls aren't happy but they're adjusting.

Lisa and I have been hanging out a lot more again recently. It's good to be able to do that. We're binge watching Dr Who. I'm midway through season 6 already haha. We also decided that I'm Rory (for those of you who know the show).

I'll try to remember to post more often. It's probably gonna be a lot of cute cat pictures for a while. Not that I'm sure anyone will mind. 😜

Music for the soul

Ya know, I normally don't write because I don't want to share the depths of hell that my mind can be. This hasn't been one of those times. Things have been calm and peaceful. As much as I can relate to and understand a sense of what those mean.

I am seeing a temporary therapist. He's only available until the end of December so it works. He can see right through me. It's creepy but I kinda need that even if it makes me twitch a little bit. Or a lot.

Today, I installed pandora on my phone and have been listening to all my old channels. I had forgotten how much I need music. Singing while letting all my emotions out. There's nothing like it. I love writing but singing is more alive.

Earlier, I reached out to Chris. I doubt I'll hear back but I needed him to know I was thinking about him and how much I miss our friendship. Just to enough to know he's not forgotten, not will he ever be.

Now back to listening to music. :)

Masks

I'm hiding all behind my masks again. Just me and all the versions of me I've been before. Maybe one day the masks will hide me from myself, so I can look myself in the mirror without tears falling. And I fall too. Away into my memories.

Lately my dreams have been tormenting me. Waking up startled, pain coursing through me. I never remember what they're about. Just a hint of something I can't quite put my finger on.

I leave my mind alone but it always comes to bother me. Doing everything I can to distract it, pacify it. Still it haunts me. I can never run from myself.

This is just a post

I really need to write more often.

Anyway, not that much is new. Spent a good deal of time outside getting my lawn in order. The early spring did a number on it. Still plenty more to do but it's been too hot.

Plus I'm wearing another heart monitor. The last one was in March '16. I had an episode at the doctor's office. Apparently my pulse went weak. Felt like my heart was being crushed. That was last Wednesday. Saturday...fuck that. It was the worst episode I've ever experienced.

What an episode usually looks like: I get lightheaded and dizzy. Sometimes I know I have to get to the ground. Other times I just sort of collapse. Followed by chest pains and trouble breathing. Only once or twice has moving been an issue.

Saturday was a whole different ball game. I made it up three stairs and my body gave way. I had to lower my head to a stair. For some reason instead of sliding down the stairs, my brain felt the need to go up 11 more stairs. I think it was based on the last thought I had that I was going upstairs. But I couldn't remember why.

As soon as I layer flat, there was this whoosh inside my head. And weird pulses in my limbs. I won't even talk about the chest pain. I'm still sore.

It lasted an hour, though I managed to get myself somewhat together around the half hour mark. No, I didn't go to the hospital. Nothing they could have done for me.

Either the med I'm on has stopped working correctly (good odds with my history) or there's another issue no one has figured out yet. I'm hoping for the former because I really don't need more medical issues.

In other news, screw TGIF. They don't use real butter in anything they make. They use a faux butter with soybean oil. This wasn't always the case. But now I can't eat there. Frank and I walked out last night because I told the waitress there was literally nothing I could eat. For what they're charging these days, they can afford to use real butter. No wonder chains are dying.

I wish I wasn't so screwed up. But it is what it is.

I woke up this morning, on 6 hours of sleep (not nearly enough), yet when I looked into the mirror my eyes were shining bright. And by the end of the day, I'm ten miles back. My eyes are dull.

I was with Lisa today, running errands with her and the monster. And gods above was he living up to his name. But the day was good. The exit we pulled off from pulls up literally across from where Frank works. And I forgot to say where Steve used to work, though it was back behind it. Hush hush secret stuff lol. I told her he was still there because I genuinely forgot. It's not even something I technically should know. But I do. Whoops.

But on the way back into the highway...I felt the beginnings of falling apart. Sometimes there's a stabby feeling when I think of him. Literal and figurative.

Then I snapped back for a little bit. Lisa and I watched more Dr Who. It took maybe a minute of driving before my thin veneer of "okay" was stripped away. I stared at the concrete wall on a bridge over a river and thought "It's there so I don't drive my car into it." Because in that moment I wanted to. I wanted to crash into every car and truck that got near me, but I knew we weren't going fast enough for it to kill me.

And I thought about inpatient therapy. I thought about running. Running and running and running. Driving as far as I could to get away. But I can't run from the demons in my mind.

I felt myself slipping, like my mind was on a slide. Descending onto that cusp of aware and disassocation.

For some reason, my scars that most doctors think landed me in the ER for a psych eval were prominent today. My therapist knows though.

If you're worried that I'm going off the deep end, well...i didn't write for a year because I was. I'm talking about it. Far less concerning, I promise.

And I'm happy I got to myself smile and my eyes alight this morning. It's something I haven't seen in a very long time. But those moments are always fleeting. It makes the crash back to my reality all the more harsh and cruel.

What is the self?

I wonder if this is me. They claim meds don't change who you are. I would politely disagree. Tomorrow I start a new antidepressant. Effexor. Actually the generic but you get what I mean. So it has me thinking. The practically pleasant text conversation with my guardian mother this evening has me thinking as well but that's for another time.

Klonopin changed a lot for me. About me. Anxiety kept me honed but also drained. Eventually it would wear me down, depression would settle in deeply, and at some point I'd find my way out. Rinse, recycle, repeat.

That's not the case on klonopin. The anxiety never burns itself out. There's the low level humming in the background constantly. Sometimes it surges, only to be pushed back down. I feel like a bottle of soda that's getting shaken up, constantly has that natural bubbles, yet no pressure relief.

Add in more antidepressants than I'd ever thought I'd be willing to try and I don't know if this is really me. Compile that with the other meds I take that reduce pain but keep me sluggish mentally...and who the hell is this person.

Maybe an evolution of what should have always been. Maybe my illnesses slowing me down, the physical ones. Maybe breaking so hard and being in the worst depression of my life altered me drastically enough that I don't know what to make of anything.

This is where my brain says the answer is all of the above. If everything seems possible, then d. all of the above is correct. At least I get to use those test taking skills for something, heh.

I honestly don't know if I'm supposed to be this person I am now or who I was prior to meds. I have no idea if the meds saved my life. I'm still depressed. I'm still suicidal. And I can't say for sure if the meds or therapy moved those to the background or if this is a normal cycle.

Having been depressed and wanting to die since 7 years old, cycles are something I know. And that me feels far more authentic than this one. I have all my old journals from back then and I can say with certainty that 13 year old me, even depressed as heck, had a better perspective than I do now.

I understood myself then, as much as possible. I have no clue now.

Curiosity broke my heart

I'm my own worst enemy. It's not the same. He was so different and it was 10 years ago. Or will be in a matter of weeks. My heart broke when he married her a few years ago. And silly me, fb shows people you might know, and I had to look.

Curiosity and all that. He's no longer with her. I can't see all of it obviously. But she no longer has his name and is dating someone else.

There's this tightness in my chest. A hole in my heart that's bleeding. Steve may have seen into my mind, but he...well he saw into my heart. Broken in very different ways by the two people I allowed myself to be truly free around.

And stupid heart, I want to talk to him. Offer comfort. But I can't. I won't. Because I'd be foolish enough to love him again. Damn them both.

Damn me more.

Screw you too insurance company

Frickin insurance company. The new antidepressant has to be approved by them, and even if it would be, it'd cost me $65 a month for the lowest dose.

Guess I'll be making a call to the psychiatrist in the morning to explain that I'm not taking that med. And I was actually hopeful for it. It's an antidepressant, ssri, while also doing chemical stuff targeted at anxiety. It's because it's newer with no generic.

Let's see what I get recommended next and if my insurance will cover it. I'll have to tally the list sometime of how many psych meds I've tried in two years. Because I feel like I'm pushing the limits on how many are left available. There are only so many antidepressants out there.

Sick with a minor plague

It's been a long few weeks. I ended up getting a minor plague from Lisa. I housesat for one night and ended up so sick. I'm not 100% still and it's been over two weeks now.

I've also not been sleeping properly for a month now. I hoped being sick would fix that. Nope, I fell asleep at a reasonable hour for only one night. It's now between 1 and 3 am. It's not good for my physical health. Nor is being so tired during the day that I essentially pass out, but god forbid I sleep at night.

My anxiety has also been through the roof. That may be part of the issue with not sleeping properly. Starting a new antidepressant. Couldn't tell you the name. It's very long and starts with a v. *shrugs*

Oh, I'm getting a new primary doctor. Here's hoping he's better than my last one. That guy was AWFUL. So better is not hard to accomplish.

Other than that, I'm unhappy in my relationship with Frank. But I'm actually thinking it through to decide if I'm generally unhappy and projecting. Or if there are issues I can't overlook anymore.

I also know I don't date people long term really well. I get bored and restless. I notice things more or more like I always did but happy love chemicals going on made me dismiss them at the time.

I know I have a busy of my own issues so I'm trying to be more patient and understanding. I don't know. I see what happens and continue monitoring how I feel.

Masochist, and not in the fun way

If you could get out of my dreams that'd be great. And where she shows up, there's got usually are. Because damn if my mind is a sadist to itself or it's really that big of a masochist. Maybe both. And I very that you're people no longer in my life with unresolved issues, but you're not the only ones. For gods sake, she hasn't been in my life since 2008.

Except I see her on fb and I can never bring myself to unfriend her. At least it's some glimpse into her life. Yep, a masochist through and through.

But you. You are the same asshole in my dreams but only now I see it all for what it is. And if I could bleach you out of my memories, I would. Just so I'd never dream of you again.

Asking for prayers/well wishes

I was going through the archives here looking for a post only to realize I never spoke about it. Well fuck me.

In Feb of 2013, my little brother overdosed and ended up in a coma for several weeks because of it. He was lucky that his friends cared enough to call for help. He was only 21 at the time. From what I understand he's doing well now.

I don't know why I never wrote about it. I was home two weekends in a row. One for that. The next for the weekend event that friends and I (yeah, Steve too) attended. By home I mean the event was down the street from my pediatric's office.

Saturday. Fuck. Frank's brother overdosed and didn't make it. I never got to meet his brother, as he was living in FL in rehab. He was 22. Just fuck.

That's probably why I didn't write about my brother at the time. I don't have words for this and I still don't know how to healthy process that weekend four years ago. Four years. It just doesn't seem like it.

All I'm asking is whoever you pray to or however you think we'll of others in times like these, I don't need them. But Frank and his mom do. More his mom.

Thanks

It's not summer yet, but the weather says differently

Can I just have Spring weather for a little bit?? It was summer weather today. Blegh. Eighty-frickin-six was the high. I live in the North of the US. When I lived two hours north of here, it didn't get reasonably warm until early May. Granted, I was in the valley of a bunch of mountains...but two hours south shouldn't make this much of a difference.

Maybe I need mountain weather again. Or hills. Maybe more north, in a different state. I like my area of the country. For the most part. I could be somewhere more liberal than where I currently live. The confederate flags on trucks is a bit disturbing and disappointing...

Oh I could get political but I shouldn't.

On a completely unrelated note, Frank said to me yesterday "So, Canada?" Honestly that's too close for me these days. I brought up moving to Canada last fall. It's been mentioned since here and there.

Maybe Australia. Oh wait. Never mind. Politics are fucked up there too. New Zealand is always nice but very difficult to move to. Maybe Canada after all.

Though Frank would complain about all the snow, at least it gets snow and isn't this ungodly summer in April going on.

Or Maine. I don't think most people think about Maine too often. New Hampshire is nice as well. I could get me cabin or cottage in the middle of the woods in either state very nicely.

Things to ponder while I attempt to ignore the heat lol

Feeling Conflicted

I was reading some old posts just now. I'm incredibly more jaded, though I had less reason to be. But I noticed something interesting upon my perusal. I'm not sure when this changed but a few years ago, not long after I returned to therapy, I referred to the man I see as "the therapist" and now it's "my therapist." Thought it was something of note to mention.

As for being jaded, it seems to be lessening as time passes. I haven't talked about it much, but I do miss the large social life I love had. I'm an extrovert and social butterfly. I don't regret the decisions I made regarding past friendships but it's a damn shame I had to lose basically everyone near me in the process.

I have no desire to go back to the kink scene. I have no patience for petty infighting nor being nice to people I dislike and/or don't respect. And when the chips fell as they did, no one reached out.

I desperately miss my friends from back home. People three hours away. I don't know, maybe if it's possible I'll move closer to them. Because a few people, there's nothing keeping me here.

Though sometimes I wish I were the type of person who could live in the middle of nowhere. My dream house has become a cottage or cabin in the woods. I'd live in a clearing but the woods would be all around me.

Conflicted is a good word to use for how I'm feeling. Different aspects of self wanting different things. That's not unusual for me though.

Kind of like my current feelings on therapy. Part of me can't wait to go back. There's so much to say that I have no other outlet for, at least not with another person. I don't believe journals count. The other part is satisfied with not stirring up everything in my mind on a weekly basis. It has been quieter and less panic inducing.

At this rate, it'll be 2018 by the time I'm able to return. I can understand my therapist not wanting to deal with the hassle of insurance companies, but I'm getting screwed over in the process. And knowing my mind, all of that is going to have an impact on if or when I return to therapy. Feeling abandoned is not something I'm great at coping with, in case someone missed that heh

Puzzling Dreams

Nighttime, in bed, is the worst time of day for me. It's why so many of these blogs have been written late at night lately. Being alone with my own thoughts is not ideal.

The last few nights I've been dreaming about searching for someone. One night I had several dreams and while they drastically changed the main premise was the same. Find a person.

Not the same person, mind you. I haven't even been me in most of the dreams. The more surprising part has been when I am myself in the dream and people from my past show up. No one I generally think of or have any emotional attachment to either.

Something must be weighing heavy somewhere in the confines of my mind, but I'm genuinely at a loss. Most likely if I do realize what it is, I won't remember these dreams and whatever connection it is. Or it's my mind being weird. That is always a strong possibility.

Regardless, it's a good puzzle to distract me from what I was originally going to write about. And what was on my mind even as I stated this post.

Idk what this is about besides being angry

The Universe laughed at me the other day going to visit Lisa. I took a different way than usual and passed where Frank works. I could see it from the highway. Like a train slamming into my brain, I realized that Frank and Steve work practically next to each other.

The anger was tangible. Thinking the Universe is being a dick was real. But that's literally the story of my life.

Of course I've been angry ever since. Not constantly, but far more often than has become the norm. Lisa said it's normal when I talked to her about it. I went from a grief fueled, occasionally angry, hatred to just fill blown pissed the fuck off kind of hatred.

Everything I think about in regards to Steve makes me furious and hurt all over again. Like I've been stabbed and all I can think is to rip out what feels like a dagger. Then stab him with it and watch him bleed out.

...I never said I wasn't crazy. My therapist hates that word but it's apt. Sanity is not on my side but PTSD will do that. I can see, taste, feel everything like it's still occurring.

No wonder I'm so angry. Not just at him. At all the people who hurt me in ways I'll never recover from. Because I will always remember and be mentally hounded.

I don't want to be angry to the point where it physically hurts. However, it's better than grief and sadness. Those are devastating for my mental health. Anger is something else entirely. Unhealthy yes, but it doesn't send me spiraling. Anger is more prominent.

Don't get me wrong. The sadness, grief, pain, and yes even love (because I don't know how not to love him), are still there. Buried underneath all that anger, they exist.

I hate that I'll never be able to forget about him. The best I can hope for is for some of the pleasant memories to dim. My mind has a harder time holding onto those. You may wonder why that's the best I can hope for. Sounds backwards.

If all I remember is the bad, I avoid that like the plague. Memories with highly conflicting emotions make the bad ones worse. There's a comparison.

And now I'm crying because that's such a terrible way to have to live to be near sanity.

Dr Who and Pondering the Universe

I became an accidental Dr Who fan. Blame Lisa lol

Currently I'm mid way through season 2. Twice now the first companion Rose has had a chance to see her dad who passed when she was 6 months old (though one was an alternate universe version).

Anyway, Lisa and I got into a discussion of whether that temptation would be too much for anyone to pass up or if after the first time, and subsequently breaking the universe, would be warning enough.

Having lost my mom at a young age (7) the question has more weight for me than it does for her as both her parents are alive and well.

So we're talking about all this and I say no that I wouldn't seek out my mom. She wouldn't know me and any interaction wouldn't and couldn't live up to expectations. I also have clear memories and impressions of who she was. I've modeled some of who I am and how I make decisions because of that. I wouldn't trade my memories of her for a chance that this one more might be what I expect it to be.

The character of Rose learns that people often speak more kindly of the deceased. So too are likely my memories kinder.

Let it all burn

There are still so many more stories I could tell. Back from the beginning, before this blog existed. Not just Steve, but others.

Tonight though, tonight my heart is breaking all over again. All the things that can break me emerged simultaneously. I don't know how I'm not shattered into a million little pieces, but I am close.

I would watch the world burn, turn back to dust floating through space. If I could. It's probably a good thing that I didn't end up in international affairs...

Being angry is probably the only thing keeping me from shattering.

Then like always, after the anger and so many tears, comes the numbness. The hollow with nothing to fill it.

Eventually I'll get mad again. If I'm lucky, there will come some time where I think I'm okay. But the pain and anger always return.

I should have known talking about the Ex was a bad idea, especially when I've been thinking of Steve. I doubt he realizes it, but he made their memories have more of a binding than should have ever existed.

Barely breathing for a chance at hope. I was so terrified. Then the tiniest piece of hope that I might be safe, might be able to be happy, might be finally free of all the nightmares. Hope that I didn't believe in or really trust. Yet there it was all the same.

And he fucked me and left. Tearing away any illusion at hope. The one person who I truly believed would never hurt me, Steve. But he did, when I was most fragile. When hope was so close.

There were no walls in my mind against him. And he demolished everything.

If I was too broken after that, he is part of the reason why. I've lived with pain and abuse most of my life.

But he destroyed that fragile piece of hope.

I can withstand and recover from a great deal many of things. I don't think I'll ever recover from losing that hope.

I've lost the ability to hope. To think it, believe it, feel it. There hasn't been a spark of it since that day.

So my good days are simply okay. That's my measurement. It's why I wished I had never met Steve. He destroyed me in a way others had tried and failed at. Bravo

If I could, I would watch the world burn.

And I'd set the fire.

Some unexpected good news

So I found out the Ex is back in his hometown, which is an hour or so further away than where he was living (now 3 1/2-4 hours away). There's that. Apparently the young woman broke up with him. Good for her. No, I'm not cackling. Not at all. ;)

I know he hates that town, even visiting. Now he's back there. Hahaha!

I also made it a point to let a friend who lives near one of the major cities up there to let anyone who should know all about him. I found out that he's not vetted for any events so no play parties for him.

If I weren't curled up in bed, away from the cold, I'd do a happy dance just thinking about his misery. Though to be honest, he deserves far worse than his current state but I'll take what I can.

I'm a bitch, but with good reasons for it.

Just another one of my usual ramblings

I have all these thoughts rushing through my head, but when I get to paper it all leaves me, as if floating away in the wind.

Another antidepressant to put on the shelf. This one was going so well too. That is, until I lost all capacity to move out want to move or have any energy at all. Barring random hours of the night for brief periods of time.

But I see my psychiatrist on Monday so I'll see what he has to say.

Oddly enough, I think it's been good for me to take time away from therapy. It may have not been my choice, but it's one I don't regret. Not that every day is perfect or stable, however I'm doing better than I had been in many years. I have no idea what normal is, or more apt, what my normal should look like. This is as close to "normal" as I've ever gotten and I'm likely still a far way off.

The thought doesn't bother me as much as it once would have; something I'm completely okay with. I simply don't care about finding what okay and normal should look like. Good or bad intentions aside, trying to force something, coax it out, or even slowly guiding me...well fuck all that. It was never good for me.

I've always had to do things my way, at my pace. I'm finally in a place where no one is making demands of me. My stability or lack thereof isn't a presence I'm aware of by anyone around me. Oh Frank worries enough for the both of us, but it's far more passive.

It's difficult to put into words the differences. They just are what they are and don't settle under my skin, fueling my own anxiety.

I'm sure I'll end up back in therapy sooner or later, but I'm not in a rush. There are times when I wish I had my therapist to bounce ideas and thoughts off of. Just like everything else, those pass and I deal with it myself. Contrary to some opinions, I'm actually fairly well adjusted all things considered and equipped to handle a lot of things thrown my way.

This has nothing to do with any of the thoughts I've had lately. They'll come back eventually if they were important.

In Dreams and Life

I've been busy with the usual every day life. Doctors. Trying to mentally process everything on my own. I really don't know when I'll be able to see my therapist again.

Lisa is moving. Less than two hours away, but I'll see her even less now. There's no exact date yet but it's coming soon. I knew they'd end up moving eventually so I'm prepared for this. It's still breaking my soul.

I hadn't dreamt of him in so long. In the last week or so, he's been the center focus of three. I will often have more than one dream per night, but it is affecting my sleep. I know something is wrong in the dream and it takes me so long to figure out what.

I guess I'm hoping that putting it to paper will make them go away.

Most days I don't even think about him anymore. When I do, I'm always angry. Maybe it turns to sadness for a little bit but always back to anger. Until I forget him again.

Time heals all wounds, they say. But mine have never healed. Maybe next lifetime will be enough. And if the gods are kind, I'll never meet him in another life ever again. I knew him when we met because we had met before, over and over. I'm tired of the routine. I'll never search again. I won't care at the loneliness nor the pull at my soul that there were people out there I knew but had yet to meet.

I'll keep running, next life. And however more to come, until the gods take the hint.

As I said to him, what feels like forever ago, no amount of good will ever take the pain away. No amount of happiness is worth it.

Validation

Where to even begin?

I'm relieved. I'm not crazy. I was right.

I was right to keep pushing. To see a bigger picture. To know that something more was wrong, even if none of my doctors could piece it together. Not even when I handed them excellent clues and points of direction to look into.

I'm not angry at my doctors. They're specialists looking at their own pieces to the puzzle that is me.

I am relieved because I had every right to be concerned, worried and scared.

Progressive. I knew whatever it was going on was progressing and getting worse. But to hear that? I don't if my tears were from being terrified, being right, and/or not being a wimp.

I saw a geneticist. I saw it on his face, the moment when everything I was saying pointed to a diagnosis. Probably an hour in. After all the family history and all of my history. The weird medical stuff that happened over the years.

No one has had an answer. He did.

A connective tissue disorder. I always figured I had a form of EDS. I was incredibly close. Joint hypermobility syndrome.

13 pages on JHS  it's by a doctor in DC. It's a long and short read. There's subtitles that give a good understanding of problems associated with JHS. The details are overwhelming. I've not experienced all of it, but very close.

I'll go in order. Chronic neck strain. Lower back pain. Sciatica. Disc problems (though I also have another genetic issue to blame for the disc issue, and by association, lower back pain). Neuropathic pain, which was the start of it all back in 5th grade. Unstable hips. Tendonitis. Chondromalacia. Costochondritis. TMJ. There's a mention of Fibromyalgia at least that one I've known about.

Issues with the entire Autonomic Nervous System. That's where it gets a little varied. Again only a few things are missing from the entirety. Problems with heart rate, blood flow, digestion, breathing, migraines, abdominal pain, adrenaline based anxiety, sleep issues, vaginal spasming (that one isn't a hard reach since everything else spasms whenever it pleases), and problems emptying my bladder fully-hence all the UTIs since I was a very little kid.

Everything physically going wrong with me is explained by this one disease. The simple points of symptoms sound god awful. They have been, are, and will continue to be. Progressive. It's not going to get better. I may slow the progression. I'm already on meds for some of this because my specialists were close. They were treating symptoms. That's all they can do for me, ever.

There's a whole list of things I should avoid. Things I should try to do. It's all there in that paper. I was also given a website for support and more information. There's more there. I wish I was kidding.

I've waited so long to write about this because there's so much to it. The sheer magnitude of symptoms and problems associated with this one syndrome is unreal. I have the benign version too. If I was diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, it would be the severe version. So I get off "easy." I really do, in all honesty. It could be so much worse. Think about that for a minute. All those issues listed? All that, more severe, more likely to develop major heart problems, more of everything. Just more.

So a breath of relief while also closing my eyes from the weight of it all. But I was right. So right. Validation. Over the next few months, I'll be informing all of my doctors about this diagnosis. Any time a new med gets mentioned, I'll have even more clearing to do with my doctors. Speaking of meds, apparently it's common for people with JHS to have more issues finding the right med or a med that doesn't cause further complications.

I'm not crazy. Okay, I am, but not about this. Even the geneticist made that joke because I had to mention the PTSD and depression. But this is real. It is a genetic problem. Even if no one sees it, I feel it every minute of every day. And now no doctor will ever have the right to dismiss anything as possibly psychiatric pain manifesting physically because they can't figure out what's wrong. I know what's wrong now and all the places it will manifest.

Absolute validation.

A story from home

There's something important I need to talk about, but I'm having trouble finding any words at all.

Instead I'll talk about a creek I grew up with. I was always the adventurous sort. Finding small clearings in the little bit of solid woods my small, though highly populated, town had. Walking with a friend through some tall plants near the creek only to find out it was filled with poison ivy. I'm not affected by it, but my friend was. That was a one time adventure, heh

It was on that trip I saw something across the creek that would become my escape from the world for many years. On the other side, the earth ran high up to a side road. There were also small "sitting areas" just along the water.

Getting down there was always half the fun . It was steep from years of erosion and flooding. Every step had to be sure and well placed or risk sliding a good 15 feet into at times a very shallow bank. But at the bottom, there was more erosion so there was several places to sit. I lost countless hours to that creek. It was my place to think or not, depending on what I needed.

Very few of my friends ever knew about it. The ones who did enjoyed the solitude as much as I. The same friend who ventured out into the poison ivy was the one who sat with me at the creek the most.

One boyfriend saw it and my younger brother. That's always a fun story. We snuck out of the house in the middle of the night. I took him to my favorite spot. We didn't have flashlights, not that I would have needed one. But oh I wish I had one that night. I didn't know the creek had risen four feet.

There's this ledge as I'd climb down and once I got to it, everything wasn't as steep. It was essentially the alcove area to suit in with a small slanted path leading to it. However that night, right at the edge of the ledge, I went to slide off the ledge to the small path and found my whole leg covered in water.

I went out there in the middle of the night many times after that, but you can be sure I always checked that ledge for water from that point on.

Submission Disconnected

I feel...disconnected from my submissive self. The part that crawled out into day dreams at an early age. The part that swept into my spirit, encompassing my mind and heart. I always knew it was integral to my core.

Lost isn't the right word for this. It's not gone, for it is me. At least, it's one of my three main inner monologues; and two of them are constantly disagreeing, heh

I think I've been moving toward a survival mindset longer than I realized. I simply sank into and embraced it more recently.

And survival leaves no room for weaknesses, perceived or real. I am oh so vulnerable as a submissive. I'm not in a place where I can allow vulnerability.

Being submissive has blinded me from truths I should have seen, left me burned in ways no heart ache ever could. It is an intoxication.

Somewhere deep inside I know the longing, the craving, the need continues to exist. Just as it always has and always will.

But I can't be that. Not now anyway.

This tough exterior, the survival instincts, and the many walls that have been reconstructed protect a very fragile core.

I can't take any more of my heart breaking and my mind shattering.

So I've fallen back on old habits and tricks that allowed me to survive, during the darkest moments and years. And no, not the Ex. Long before he came into the picture. He stumbled upon already laid ground work, but he was not the worst.

That always surprises people. But I learned from an extremely early age how to survive when everything is falling apart within and without.

Submissive was a dream. An idea that I knew was right, from about age 11 or 12, without the full understanding of why it was so right.

I'll hold onto that dream again, knowing it will get me through this current storm. With the sheer amount of everything catching up to me, I can't...be who I am.

But nothing has held me down forever. I know things will settle into place and I'll find my own weird sense of closure. Until then, I'll dream.

Winding turns

2016 left its last few days making me grateful to leave it behind.

I have a million thoughts running through my mind, which is so very pleasant, but it leaves me not knowing where to begin.

I'm on my final week of topamax and I can taste nearly everything properly again. A huge relief. The constant headaches I could do without but I'm hoping those will ease up. If not, I see my neurologist next week.

This marks the start of not seeing my therapist for at least two months. With him no longer taking insurance, it won't be in the budget for a while. I'm wondering if I'll go stir crazy with all the thoughts or if it'll give me some time to relax and take a break. Most likely both, knowing how my mind functions.

I decided this was the year of taking no shit. People better step up or fuck off. I've already begun. People have to be better this year than we've needed to be. I think many people, myself included, have grown complacent. This is not a time in history where we can avoid to be on the sidelines. I don't know how much of an impact I can make, but I'm going to do my damnedest.

I have only one resolution for the new year but for now I'm keeping that a secret, all to myself. No one knows about this, except in some passing conversation from some time ago. Not what it has become nor the evolution to get there.

As for everything else, I'm floating in and out of a state of being passive, emotionally speaking. Not having to feel has been incredibly helpful for perspective and the occasional peace of mind. It's just a mind trick and coping mechanism, but not all are unhealthy. Being able to step back, shut down, be yet not be has allowed me to get through many days, many awful times in the past. When there are times where my emotions and thoughts are so overwhelming and damaging, I need a safe haven.

My thoughts and emotions have been taking turns into places of my mind I thought long gone. My last session with my therapist had him concerned. I didn't like where I was heading emotionally, so I stopped it in its tracks. I've been slowly world my way out of that direction. No, not depression. Something far worse. Feeding the anger and embracing it.

I will never be that person, even if I'm capable of it.

Like I said, lots of thoughts on all different directions. The freedom to think clearly and to bounce all around is something I've missed. Something I lost long before I began writing here. So this should be interesting if nothing else.