I'm going to be posting two posts today, but the other one will be kink-related, so be aware. Or beware. However you feel about that particular expression of sexuality.

I've been feeling… off… lately. I think since the Arthritis Introspective G8 Conference in Milwaukee two weeks-ish ago. Don't get me wrong, it was a great time and I made some fantastic business/advocacy connections, not to mention at least one solid friendship which I suspect will last a lifetime. I didn't learn much that was new to me, which surprised me, honestly. I didn't realize how much I already know about rheumatological diseases in general, and living with them in specific. I impressed myself, actually. lol. However, it was difficult in the sense that there were a lot of people there who do all this amazing volunteer/advocacy/professional work to support the arthritis community and raise awareness and change legislature to benefit the citizens of the arthritis community, and it left me feeling basically like a big, fat loser.

I already have a difficult time with the reality of having to leave my work at the Healing Journey, which  is my baby, having nurtured it from the ground up and having actively been a part of almost every step of its growth until a year and some change ago… whenever it was I stopped working. Two years? Yeah, I think so. Time flies, really, and I forget when I stopped doing this or that. They aren't exactly milestones that I wish to remember and celebrate. Although… maybe I ought to do just that? Maybe I should pinpoint the milestones of my disease(s) progression and find some way to look at them in an optimistic light, or at least not be totally broken over them. Have a tea party with friends for every "anniversary", or do something symbolic and meaningful to honor the tough decisions I've had to make in the past. I like that idea. I personally feel that symbols and representations are immensely powerful and can be crazy healing if used in earnestness. It goes along with my slow research and interest in paganism/nature-based "religion". I'll have to think on that and see what comes to mind.

Speaking of symbols and representations, did you notice that I got my nose pierced?! Oh, and my lobes got another hole in them as well. This ties into my "funk" in a sense, because one of my greatest gripes about my time as a super Christian is that I had to so severely curtail my personality and present an image that wasn't really me, and to me that hearkens right back to the extremely abusive and dysfunctional environments in which I was raised. I was actively told to keep the true nature of our home life a secret from the authority figures in my life, such as the school teacher at the small church school I attended from first to eighth grade. At home as well, I learned early to cultivate or feign an interest in whatever my step-dad was into, to avoid as much pain as possible and garner as much affection as he was willing to dole out. So that means that the Raiders became my football team, I loved video games and Final Fantasy VII, I watched WWF wrestling and had a favorite wrestler, though I deviated there by favoring Goldberg instead of Sting. It was a survival mechanism, in childhood as well as in adulthood. I needed an identity, acceptance, because I had so long stifled my own identity and could not accept myself. How could I? I'd been told in various ways, most non-verbal, that who I was naturally was unacceptable. Such is the nature of abuse, of the power and control wielded by the strong, abusive person or people. They efface the identity of the weaker, tell them who and what to be, becoming ever more powerful with each act of compliance. It's awful.

My teenage years, the high school years, were a reprieve. I dressed how I wanted, collected and hoarded the things I found interesting, listened to "my" music… but it left me isolated and ostracized, for the most part. I always had a few friends, but most people stayed away from me. Apparently they were afraid or intimidated because I seemed so self-confident and assured, but it was a complete facade. I did enjoy those years of relative freedom, though. It was during that time that I met my husband and we fell in love. He became the person who knew me the best; my true self. Every gory detail was open to his eyes and ears… eventually. And he accepted me. That laid the very first foundation for healing, though it was many years before any significant healing would take place.

Now, I'm recovering from my years in bible college and as a worker for my denomination in a small, backwoods area of Idaho that was more conservative than anything I'd ever seen before. I know that I was probably considered very liberal, though I was considered extremely conservative where I came from. It's funny how that superficial identity can shift from place to place, depending on the perceptions of those around you. But I'm still scared to fully express myself, because of social media and the circles I'm still friends with. I want to be "me", but I don't want to drive away or alienate my old friends whose views I understand but don't necessarily agree with. And more than anything I don't want to be evangelized. I'm not "lost". In fact, although I've felt so "blah" since the conference--something I later realized to be the product of travel exhaustion and PMS--I still feel the strength and confidence that I possess in myself keeping me afloat. I have times where I doubt myself, get down on myself, even hate myself still. It happens from time to time. But one of the things that I hated most while trying to be a Christian was having to give away my power and give the credit for my strength and my accomplishments to god. You know what I mean-- you are never actually the one who does anything, because it's god engineering the circumstances and giving you strength and telling you what to say, right? It reminds me of playing with dolls or figurines/action figures. I said what I was supposed to, but I was constantly bewildered by the fact that I was the one who worked hard and poured out my effort and strength, yet I was supposed to ignore my own willpower (because relying on your own willpower is a sin, I think) and demurely say "praise god!". It just didn't sit right with me. Again, probably because of the lifetime of abuse and domination where my power was taken away again and again and again, my accomplishments diminished and ignored.

I get that a lot of my beef with my denominations beliefs stem from my sensitivity to abusive tactics. Some might say that I'm overreacting and interpreting abuse and dysfunction where there is none, but I believe that, because of my sensitivity, I see what others may not be aware of. They may be fine with ignoring their part in things and giving all the credit to god, but I'm not. Human beings are remarkable, and capable of so much. I think that it does a disservice to humanity and our potential when our strength, our creativity, our amazing power to endure the unthinkable and come out the other side hopeful and gracious, all that is attributed to the subtle workings of a divine being who is way out of our league when it comes to that kind of stuff. What about the incredible contributions of atheists or other religions to humanity? I've been told that it's god working through them without their knowledge, but isn't that kind of invasive? If a deity is going to pop into my head and use me as a vehicle for his/her/their accomplishments, I'd kinda like to know about it. It feels like a conspiracy theory for Big Brother or something.

Anywayyyyy… moving on from that soapbox… you may have guessed this by now, but my piercings are symbolic for me of trying to be the best version of myself that I can be; my true, honest self. It's an "I've wanted this for a really long time, dammit, and I'm not going to let my fear of rejection or criticism stop me from expressing myself anymore!" statement. And you know what? I love my nose ring so much. I think it looks really attractive, and I like who I see in the mirror a little more now that I have it. I feel a little more badass, more ready to take on whatever comes to me, a little more bold and creative. I feel unstoppable, really. All that from a couple little circlets of metal. Go figure.

This feeling of uncertainty, of "blah-ness" that's been haunting me for the past five or so days has also led me to take a step back and evaluate my life. I don't want to waste away on the couch for the rest of my life, but I do recognize that I'm in a transitional phase right now. It won't always be like this, but right now I'm trying to find diagnoses and learn to manage what I already know about. It's a lot of work and time and energy, and I don't have much left over for anything else except maintaining my marriage and a few select friendships. In fact, I really need people to be proactive if they want to interact with me at this point. I'm exhausted all of the time, and I am sleeping a good deal of the 24-hour day. I spend a lot of time with my cats and snakes, too, when I'm awake. Mostly because I can do that while I'm doing other stuff, but mostly mostly because my cats follow me around and sleep next to me and take my spot if I get up for something.

I have a few bits of news that's developed recently, as well. Firstly, I was denied disability again. Everyone who knows me and has heard is more or less incensed, because they believe that I qualify without reservation, and moreover that it would be a huge benefit for me and my husband. I feel the same way. I'm really ticked off, because they claim that they carefully reviewed my records, yet the list of diseases I have is not only incomplete but one of them is totally wrong!! Nowhere in my medical records does it state that I have hyperthyroidism. I struggle with hypothyroidism, something that's given me much grief and physical suffering through the years. Uncontrolled, it is debilitating in its own right. Corey and I both agree that it's time to seek a lawyer's help. I also received a private message from an acquaintance who is a disability lawyer in a different state, and she said as much before I even discussed it with her in depth. I felt quite affirmed in kind of a silly way while Corey and I were discussing the disability ruling and our next move. I suggested that maybe I am just "being a pansy" and I'm not as sick as I think I am? Maybe I just need to suck it up and try harder? Corey looked me in the face and said, "No. You are not a wimp or a pansy. You are sick, and they're wrong." I know that if I were simply being lazy, he would call me out on it. He agrees and says that he'd tell me to go do something. lol. It was nice, though, knowing that my hubby not only agrees with me, but he understands the severity of my issues and believes that I am doing my absolute best to be "well" (or just "better") and productive. It warmed my heart.

In other news, I began physical therapy today! The great part is that she comes to my house once a week, so I don't have to arrange transportation for that as well. It's hard enough trying to find rides for all of my dr's appointments, much less the ones in other cities or states! Seriously. That is the biggest thorn in my side besides the Intractable Pain. (The pain which the good ol' disability folks didn't list among my diseases or take into consideration, apparently.) I have a chart of exercises to get through, and the repetitions are low for now. We are starting small and working up, not only because of my hypermobility, but also because of my extreme fatigue. At first, my goal is to do all of the exercises within two days. She showed me sitting variations for almost all of the 9 exercise moves, so that's a really good thing for me. Did you know that there's a sitting variation for crunches?! Yeah. I'm super freakin' thrilled, especially because I mentioned that doing sit-ups or crunches on the ground makes my hips pop during every rep and it's quite painful. I had to deal with that through years and years of high school P.E. classes, and I'd like to avoid it if at all possible… which it is!!! Joy to the world ^_^

That's about all for now. I feel that I've rambled quite enough for one night, and I still have that "other" post to do. I have a project that I'd like to get done this evening as well, so maybe I'll take a typing break and work on that for a bit. I plan to get on the internet more frequently in the near future. I have the desire, if not necessarily the drive for it. I was feeling guilty for a while, but then I just realized that this is the phase I'm in right now. I don't need the internet as a constant distraction from my raging pain, because it's being managed fairly well, and I have other things that take up the increasingly minimal hours that I'm awake. In all truthfulness, too, being online exhausts me. It's just tiring, and I'm already so tired that I don't feel like handling that extra tiredness as well. That's usually why I avoid it these days. But I'm starting to feel a hankering to participate again, to come out of my isolation a bit, and the internet is the way to do that. So I may be posting more often, lurking on Facebook a bit more, and hanging out on the kinky message boards I read more frequently. Just as I'm launching PT to strengthen my body, I think that I could use some social strengthening as well. I'll give it a go, anyway.
Toodle-oo!

I got my hands on an off-brand of Nutella that I can actually eat (can we please stop with the gratuitous soy usage, corporate America?), and I understand everything now. I mean everything. The meaning of life, the universe and everything. Turns out it isn't forty two, it's chocolate and hazelnuts. In spreadable form. The gods have descended and Eden is here. It's like the Ferrero Rocher chocolate candies that I've loved so much for so long but can't have anymore (thanks again to the soy problem) have exploded all over this whole grain toasted pita…slice? (what do you call a single piece of pita bread in all its pockety glory?). Of course, the whole wheat makes it healthy. Right? Right. Also, as a completely pointless side note, I must say that not indulging in the Oxford comma for the phrase, "life, the universe and everything" is killing me, but I am pretty sure that's how it's written and I want to be faithful to the original text. Douglas Adams deserves it. (For those completely lost, I'm referencing "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" series by Douglas Adams. It's a series of books that is completely silly, mind bending, and entirely sensible if you read them all through.)

Chewing this deluxe chocolatey treat is killer, though, thanks to the good ol' oral surgery recovery. The gaping sockets where my 3 wisdom teeth used to be are pretty much alright, in that there's no easily discernible spikes of pain above what I normally experience, but the bottom left jaw pain has got to be the incarnation of everything evil in the world. Due to the positioning of that tooth, the extraction involved cutting open the gum and sewing it shut again afterward, and this stitched area is causing me debilitating pain. Yes, even with the copious amounts of strong pain killers that I am taking, and yes, even with all of the little countermeasures you can take against pain in addition to the pain meds, it's keeping me from sleeping at night, keeping me from eating solid food, giving me migraines, making the hours pass soooo slooooooowlyyyyy, and making my supply of pain killers look suspiciously puny. Once or twice a day I give in and eat something that requires chewing, but ouch.

I finally caved yesterday and started applying ice directly to my jaw, and that was an amazing breakthrough... at first… for a bit. Now it doesn't seem to matter. Sorbet has been a helpful friend as well, kind of numbing things out with cold from the inside, plus it's super delicious! The weather, though, has been affecting the pain levels. Clouds have been coming and going and bringing rain, so on the days that the weather is changing my pain is skyrocketing. On the calm days with no clouds and no changing, I was able to get it mostly under control. Since I cannot control the weather, I will simply do what I can to get this healing up as fast as possible. It's nice to know that this intense pain will end at some point. I'm not used to thinking that way anymore.

So. Birthday coming up in a week, give or take a day. I'm going to be the ripe old age of 27. I think it's fair to say that I'm definitely not where I thought I'd be in life at the moment, and things are going to be different than I had planned, but I think I'm coming to grips with that. I feel like I'm coming to after some time in a thick, numbing sleep, coming back to myself and gulping a huge lungful of air. I've had several "off" months and lots, lots, lots of heavy blows in a row. That's had me staggering, trying to come to terms with reality; adapt, adjust, and survive. I have not lost myself, though, and I feel that irrepressible sense of self rising yet again, despite the surroundings and trappings that modify the expression.

While I was on a walk the other day I caught sight of the desert mountains in the distance, and the dark-light pattern of the clouds and sunlight passing over them in turns gripped my heart as it always does. I felt the familiar yearning for a good, solid hike, followed by a mournful thought that hiking is out of the question when I'm scraping along the road with my walker. The second thought I had was, "Fuck that noise!" I refuse to let myself be bleached barren and bled dry by my disease(s). When I go hiking or backpacking I definitely won't be able to travel as far or as fast, but that doesn't mean that I have to give it up entirely. Yes, there's something to be said for working within the parameters of reality, but there's something more to be said for not giving up on yourself and refusing to become a bland mush of a person when faced with limiting circumstances. So no, I won't be a massage therapist like I had dreamed and planned, because that's just not realistic when you consider my connective tissue disease and my fatigue and pain levels. It's not a matter of want, it's a matter of not physically capable, no matter how hard I push myself and aim for the dramatically inspiring documentary story of a life.

But I still massage my husband, my friends, when I can. When I can. I've adapted. I've altered. But I'm not giving up, not unless I want to, and for my own reasons. Because while I refuse to be conquered and give up on my hobbies and my interests because of circumstances imposed on me against my will, I also refuse to be stuck doing stuff that I no longer really want to do or that I didn't want in the first place, simply to prove that my illness "doesn't define me" or whatever. If I were doing stuff just to prove that my diseases don't have me by the balls, in that moment I'd be proving myself wrong. It's a tricky thought, and a tricky balance, and it's taken me some time to get to this place. At first I needed to simply withdraw and lick the wounds inflicted upon diagnosis, to simply ride the tide of one appointment after another, and I'm okay with that. There will be times when I do so again, and that's fine. So long as the reasons are mine, and I'm doing it for me (and not because I've been bullied into it by people or my diseases), I can do whatever I need to do to get by. For me, for now, it means letting myself emerge once more, a slightly different incarnation with all the spunk and sass of my former self combined with a new balance and perspective tempered by pain and trials.

Hey, did I mention that I got glasses? Yep, I sure did, and they make me look hot. I'll get a picture in here sometime when I can, but for now just take my word for it. Here's how great they are: I actually feel more attractive with them on than without! Yeah, I know. That's never been a thing for me before. In fact, I feel very good about my appearance in general lately. Sure, I'm still overweight and trying to slim down, but my hair has been growing out and is now a chin-length bob in my natural color, my skin is clear, I've got really cute glasses, I finally found a type of bra I can wear comfortably, thus my breasts and cleavage look fantastic (even if they *are* sports bras), and I've got some really cute earrings. I want to get more holes in my ears and I've been playing with the idea of a nose ring, a very thin and delicate hoop (see below), but I just don't think it would look that great.

I've always wanted an eyebrow piercing, however, so maybe I'll go for one of those...

I definitely want what the ponytail lady (that's Fergie, right?) has in the way of earrings-- a whole ear-full, all the way down. (I just hope my babies don't decide to reach for the shiny things, you know? Yikes!)

Of course, I want a tattoo in the worst way but since I struggle with hyperalgesia and always will, I figure that it's probably out of the question. Unless I were to use medical grade anesthesia or something for the procedure. Hmm… (Kidding.) My first tattoo, though, would be this:

To wrap things up, and on a completely unrelated side note, I love my kitties. We took Fancy, the new cat, to the vet today to check out her ears--either mites or an infection, either way real bad when we got her but improving while with us--and she behaved so well both on the car ride and during the appointment itself, even while they made use of the rectal thermometer. I know that I wouldn't be as quiet and docile as she was if a rectal thermometer was involved in my exam! Turns out that there are no mites, at least not right now. It could have started out as mites and then progressed as they left their waste behind, but she has a fungal infection that a course of ear drop medication should clear right up, and I expect that we'll see a bit of a change in her disposition once that's better. She's already sweet now, but there's a difference between being nice and sweet while you're in discomfort or pain and being sweet and nice because you're no longer in discomfort or pain. You know what I mean? Well, right now she's kind of a bitch to Bob and Juneaux (pronounced "juno", by the way), hissing and swiping when they come near or if they (try to) pass by, growling at them if she so much as sees them, but it's just driven Bob and Juneaux closer which is what I was hoping for. They're becoming bros, which didn't happen before because Bob actually had his bro, Cortes! So we'll see what happens as the kitty soap opera continues. Tune in next time for more drama on As the World Tunas/General Pawspital/All My Kitties/As the Fur/Litterbox Turns.

By the by… Which is your favorite kitty soap opera name? Got an original one? Let me know in the comments!

I'm so behind on keeping up with my favorite blogs! I'm cherry picking the ones that I want to read right now, but the list just keeps getting longer and longer and I'm not certain I'll make it through the entire set before I'm asleep again. (It took me nine hours to check my Facebook notifications the other day because I couldn't stay awake long enough to check more than 3 or 4 at a time!)

I've been fighting fatigue. Bad, bad fatigue. The kind of fatigue that you don't actually fight, you just accept as reality and accommodate as much as possible, because the need for sleep is overpowering and overwhelming and can come on you with just a moment's notice. There is no way I can drive in this condition, as I find myself falling asleep in the midst of the most ridiculous, mundane tasks-- eating a bowl of cereal (spilled all over myself because I nodded off), going to the bathroom (almost fell off the toilet), standing in the kitchen and holding a conversation, pretty much any time I sit down for anything, and even a tad while out for my evening walk with Drogo. It's far, far past ridiculous and well into debilitating. Let's just say that this is further proof that my body refuses to do anything halfway.

It's a combination of the high levels of pain killers that I'm on and the other new meds and also the shifting weather of this time of year. I know it's not just the pain meds, as I went several weeks a little more tired than normal but not slammed with fatigue like this. It's always hard when you have to make adjustments to the regimen, but I'm confident that things will get sorted out in time. It's just the waiting for it all to settle down that's difficult. I feel like I've hardly seen any of Drogo at all, between his odd work schedule and my complete inability to stay awake for more than 15 minutes at a time. We may live in the same house but there's so much more that makes up a relationship and I miss him terribly!

The pain, however, has been good. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to type those words again, but there they are! (pop the sparkling cider, throw the glitter and sparkles and confetti- careful not to get it in the cider!- and call in the dancing girls!) Last week was still very painful, but bearable, but this week has been, well… nice. Maybe it's because I've been asleep so much that I haven't noticed the pain? I dunno. A funny phenomenon I've noticed, though, is that now when my pain dips down below "I'm in extreme pain" levels it's almost like my body then ceases to realize that I'm still hurting. I mean, it's there, I can feel it, but suddenly it's not important anymore and now I expect myself to function at a higher level. Does that even make sense? I suppose it's because I've been in crazy high pain land for so long that dropping down to less severe levels feels like a picnic. Like a paper cut vs. a broken arm. (Well, okay, to be more realistic, like a stitched up gash vs. a broken arm.) And I honestly don't know what to do with myself. I feel like I'm malingering now if I insist that I'm still in pain and need pain killers, because I'm so vastly better compared to last week even. I know intellectually that it is continued, routine use of the pain meds that will keep me at these levels and hopefully take me down to even less levels of pain, but I do feel like a medicine chaser now, I do.

All of this brain stuff that goes along with being sick… it's too much for me to figure out. I need a shrink to help me wade through all of this and made sense of it.

Even as I type this, I feel myself flagging and growing more and more tired. I expect that I'll be close to napping again here in a few minutes, so a few quick updates…
-The craft business is getting off of the ground! I've made a friend here in town who is going to go in on it with me and we'll share the table. She's sold before, so there's the benefit of experience, plus she can give me a ride and load/unload the table, which I'm unable to do. I've been busy making all sorts of adorable little things to sell, and I'm excited.

-My neurologist thinks that I'm definitely doing the right thing in pursuing an EDS diagnosis down at University of Arizona, and encouraged me to keep going for it. I see him again in 3 months, and he put me on a medication that should help with the twitchies a bit. That's one of the meds making me so sleepy.

-My psych put me on an antipsychotic to help stabilize my mood and keep me from hitting those more manic-type highs, along with refilling my antidepressant. The term he used is Mood Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, because my case is too complex to be cut and dried anything. He is going after genetic testing to see how I metabolize medicine and if I'm missing any enzymes or anything that might be altering the optimal flow of medication in my system. That would potentially also explain a lot when it comes to my needing crazy high doses of painkillers to make any kind of a difference.

-This weekend is a party/get-together for the BDSM community here in my town, and I'm super excited to attend. I've never been to one yet, as there's not a whole lot that happens in our scene here (it's pretty small) and Phoenix or San Diego is a long way to travel for us right now for anything other than necessary doctor's stuff. Pleasure trips are out of the question. I am going to the secondhand store tomorrow to scrounge up something super sexy and smokin' to wear. Drogo will be wearing his standard jeans and a t-shirt, I imagine. I am nervous, but I know a few of the people there, and Drogo will be there, and I can leave whenever I want so it's not that big of a deal. I'm thinking that maybe we'll finally find a willing lady to play around with Drogo and I once in a while. It's been a long, unfruitful search so far, and every possible candidate has simply left me hanging after stringing me along for a while. If this is what men go through when trying to woo women, I feel sincerely sorry for them. It is frustrating beyond all reason to have a girl act as though she is interested and spend some time getting to know you and then BAM! You never hear from her again. She doesn't return calls, emails, texts, nothin'. No explanation. I don't get it. Women are confusing, bottom line. Poor men; you have my sympathy.

-I found a great supplement/multivitamin that is soy and gluten free, so I've started that up to nourish my body while it fights for health. I realized that I wasn't supporting it in that way, which is just silly because I need supplement support more than the average person would! So I'm pleased about that, because it also keeps me from having to buy all of the vitamins and such I was taking separately and saves me money!

-Disability is still out for review. I intend to call sometime this week and check on it to see about how much of a way we've got left, if they can tell such things.

And sure enough, my eyelids are drooping, it's getting hard to focus my eyes, and my head is getting fuzzy. Time to wrap this up and hit the sheets, the nice quality sheets that I scored for a super low price thanks to that Kohl's cash they send out and a friend's coupons that she sent me. They are the nicest sheets I've ever owned, and I love sleeping between them! Next thing will be to get some decent pillows, because ours are completely flat and lumpy and just worn out. Not good, not good at all. Pillows, and then a pillow top for the mattress, and then a good sturdy comforter for the bed. That's the plan for the next few years. I'll have to do it a bit at a time, but it'll get done. A good night's rest is essential to daily functioning!

Prolly more thoughts on this later, I dunno. Right now I'm just copying and pasting a post I sent out in one of my closer-knit fibro support groups this morning.

Well, I sure feel invalidated as hell this morning. I posted that AWESOME picture that I tagged y'all in (I'll include it here for those who I'm not friends with outside of the group) and not only does everyone think that I'm sitting here with a knife to my wrist apparently, I got a message in the wee hours of the morning and one that was there when I signed on this morning, and I dunno if you guys will catch the same vibe as I do but I'm totally getting the message that "you're too negative and you focus on your pain too much; knock it off and be cheerful, eh?" which is incredibly discouraging and angering and all kinds of things that I really just don't know how to articulate. Thoughts?

Last night's message: "Hello? I'm I don't know who you are and you don't need who I am but I am one of R's friends and somehow I've been able to see your posts on my bulletin... is something wrong? I've been kinda feeling down too but I shouldn't be.

Sorry so many typos on there lol.

I meant to say we don't know each other. I've been seeing the... negative stuff you've been posting. So I wanted... to know what was wrong... if you wanted to tell me. I can understand if you find it weird to talk to someone you don't know about something so personal but... I'm going to be moving out of AZ in May and I'mm feeling kinda down too so I thought it would be worth a shot."

This morning's message from a different person (Note: she had asked to be untagged in the photo because it looks bad for her, professionally as an actress.): "Yeah it was a cool piece but yeah most of the people who still use Facebook are actors directors producers etc so I stopped putting anything on there about pain or pretty much anything negative or if I do I try to make it funny. I stopped my blog a couple months ago my pain is what it is it's been two years this is where it will likely stay thinking about it just gives it power. Can I suggest something for you to read? Maybe you are not at a point where it's something yiu can absorb I wasn't ready when I bought it a few years ago read three pages and out it away but the secret has changed my life even before I read it. I started living the law of attraction and yes I still have a bad day but I'm very cautious about what I think and say bc what you think about you bring about. I'm a therapist and never got any if this but so much has changed w my pain my acting everythjng that I have to believe there is truth. Google it and try it for a couple weeks maybe it will help. I don't go to meetings lol I don't do anything other than watch my thinking patterns Just a thought from what I see in your patterns "

I responded, and I'll post that too if you want, but this response to MY response just makes me even more frustrated (but I KNOW that wasn't the intent, to attack, I guess I'm just sensitive???).

Note: Here's my response, for clarity's sake. "I get what you're saying, and that's something that I *do* try to live in my life. I'm very conscious of my thought patterns and I monitor my thoughts and feelings quite closely (hence why I blog and talk to my husband and besties all. the. time.). For me, though, it's more than just "don't think of negative things" whatever. I've learned that--and this is just for me, you understand, because I tried it the other way and it just made me miserable-- it is more healthy and productive to acknowledge whatever negative thoughts or feelings I have, think/talk through them, and then move on with my life. I don't wallow except on rare occasions, because everyone needs a pity party day once in a while I think, especially ppl who hurt all the damn time. But for me it's best for my mental and emotional health to acknowledge the stuff that ain't so positive, try to find something funny in it, and keep going.

The "don't think about negative things and you won't bring negative things into your life" dealie just doesn't work for me. And that's okay. I'm glad it has done a lot for you. For me, I put as much love and light out into the world as I can, and I get a TON back in return. But I don't dare gloss over the bad parts because it all just festers and creates "disease" in my life. Not the physical disease, of course (though our emotions and whatnot DO have an effect on our physical health as I'm sure you're well aware), but… oh, how to explain it? Anyway, I've known waaaaaay too many people that pretend nothing is wrong, ever, and we should only think and talk about positive things, etc. for me to want to go back to that kind of thinking intentionally. (And it could be that what I've experienced/read/seen is a distortion of what YOU are talking about… I mean, connotation is a hard thing to convey. You say "banana" and we will each have a different image that pops into our head and different feelings about the word though the core concept is the same. Try that with the word "love" or "happiness" and things get crazy lol) It's been my experience, working with abuse survivors, that acknowledging the negative stuff and processing it appropriately is what robs it of power, not pushing it away in favor of focusing on the positive. I believe that there's a balance of the two that can and must be achieved for optimal emotional and mental health. Maybe that balance doesn't always come across on Facebook, but this IS the place where a lot of my support system is located, and also where I try to raise awareness about the very real nitty gritty of what it's like to live with chronic pain, chronic depression, chronic illnesses and diseases, and PTSD and other abuse survivor related issues. On a totally unrelated note, have you ever thought about creating a facebook page strictly for your professional life? One of my artist friends has done that because of some of the same things you mentioned-- potential employers/buyers, professional peers, etc. It's a way for her to display her portfolio and other business related stuff without it getting cluttered in with her personal stuff or lost and vice versa."

"Thoughts are def hard to convey here bc yes I def still acknowledge the bad things and I've had a lot. I had a bad couple days and I have allowed myself to feel upset and angry it's more how I think about it that changed. I guess my perspective is different. I found out heartbreaking news about my ex acknowledged it would make me sad processed it talked to a couple people quickly but cautious of the words I used when talking about my future for me not the universe and then it passed. Everyone is different. I guess I've been thru so much bad in my life including men hurting me and pain obesity and have fought so hard I finally just found a balance or something that works. I don't tell most people about it bc it sounds too new age even to me lol. But I thought I'd ask but I get it's not for everyone. I'm also alone so I have to do things different. My support system is here but not much emotionally and I have no spouse or anyone to talk to or depend in to listen it say it will be ok. It's all up to me and that's ok. I've never been my own rock and I'm learning
Well I'm glad u have a way that works . Feel better"

So I guess I'm just super irritated because I'm always very self-conscious about how I come across, whether it's appropriate or if I'm being too negative or angry, etc. I know she's just trying to help, but it feels just as invalidating as someone who knows just what I choose to present to the world regarding my pain coming up and telling me that I've probably been handling it all wrong and this is what helped them and I should consider doing it that way. Wait, come to think of it… that's happened to me countless times, with all of my diseases. And my food allergies. And it pisses me off, guys! I'm just like, you know what? Even if I chose to be completely negative and wallow in my misery and my pain and my agony and not try to find the positive and do my best and find humor in the situation and be totally authentic about my struggles and where I'm at, that is my right. That is my right as a sick person and that is my right as a healthy person. So stop fucking telling me how to handle my shit, okay?!

I was so pleased with myself because I've progressed so far on acceptance of my fibro diagnosis and that I'm not going to find an underlying disease to treat and miraculously recede my fibro to livable, which is a hope that I was clinging to until the "just fibro" appointment earlier this month. I've come across some well of determination, hope, and inspiration that I thought had dried up long since, beaten down by the daily grind of such incredible levels of pain and other miseries, and life is looking up for me. And then… this.

Maybe it's no coincidence that just when I seem to be getting my feet under me in whatever battle I'm fighting (emotions, facing and processing and healing from abuse, fighting depression, my health, my food allergies, etc.) something comes along that tries to knock me on my ass again. Maybe I am just too open and authentic. Maybe I leave myself vulnerable to attack. Maybe I leave myself vulnerable to those who think they know better. God, why are there so many of those people in the world?!

Anyway, I'm quite irritated, angry, frustrated, guilty and not sure if it's legitimate guilt or totally illegitimate and false… Because of the crazy dysfunctional environment of most of my life, I have a hard time telling false guilt from legitimate guilt, and I tend to take on guilt that isn't mine and shouldn't be aimed at me at all. So I never quite trust the guilty feelings anymore, because I know that it quite probably isn't true or to be trusted. Generally, I'm above reproach. ;) So this is why I blog and openly put things out there in social media, to get the feedback of the wide network of people that I trust. I thought I could trust this chick; she's a fibro warrior too, a psychologist, an abuse survivor… but she took the opportunity to slip the sword between the ribs, probably all the while thinking that she was just helping me let out the bad blood and balance my humors! And that just goes to show that you can't trust everyone with your pain. According to her theory, I suppose I should stop this blogging and sorting through my thoughts. Which, as we all know, is baloney for me, as this blog is the thing that has helped me sort through my thoughts and feelings in a semi-coherent manner for years. I suppose that's what smarts the most-- the suggestion that my coping methods aren't good enough, that I've been doing it wrong this whole time and any progress I've made is incidental.

Enough ranting for the day, I suppose. I just had to get all this out there, and boy do I feel better! Whew. It's no longer roiling inside me in a jumbled mess, confusing me and making me heart-sick. Ahh. I seriously feel as though I can physically breathe better now.

Suck it, actress lady. You have your ways and I have mine, and mine are fucking awesome. And no, I'm not still bitter. :P

I saw the neurologist today. While he is more skeptical of fibromyalgia than I'd like (it has no objective test to prove its presence in a person), he seems to know what he's talking about when it comes to other things. In addition, he's friendly and laughs easily, so I will stick with him, at least for now.

When I told him about the twitchies, he immediately began asking questions. He feels that many of the things wrong with me are puzzle pieces, including the fibromyalgia. Indeed, there are several diseases that fibromyalgia mimics the symptoms of, so in reality I could not have fibro at all, but some other disease. Isn't that interesting? So I'll be getting an MRI, an EEG, and some electrical testing in the next few weeks, to see what's going on with my nervous system. Honestly, there are several suspects that we are trying to see if we can rule out, and MS is one of them. Many of the symptoms of MS are the same as fibro, and the twitchies are definitely of a neurological origin, so it's a suspect until we rule it out. Lupus is another. Basically, we're looking at autoimmune causes it seems, although he agrees with me that the big accident back in '06 may actually have something to do with my nervous system dysfunctions.

Other than that, life's been pretty calm. I've had a few more instances of grieving D, but I know it's normal and healthy, so I just go with it and cry it out. C will often hold me while I cry, which is nice.

Have I mentioned lately that I love being married? The more time passes, the more love I am filled with for C, and the more gratitude wells up and overwhelms me. I am so grateful that I chose this path for my life. I am filled with more satisfaction and happiness than I have ever had in my life. My time in Id was very fulfilling, and comes a close second, but the work I was doing to heal from my past adds an element of discord and instability that is lacking in my current life. I have stability, for the first time in my life. Real, honest to goodness stability. I have C to thank for that. He is a Mr. Steady, that's for sure, and he works so hard to make sure that all of our ends meet. I know I can trust him and rely on him to care for me... and our children, eventually. I love that man, more than I thought I was capable of, and it's clear that he loves me as well. Life is good. Loving and being loved, despite whatever financial difficulties we are having... everything else pales in comparison. I am basking in the glow of knowing that I have my own little home, a place that will always be here for me. That doesn't mean that I don't still get restless and have the urge to go on an adventure, but the adventure is sweeter knowing that home is waiting. A real home. My home.

I see the pain specialist tomorrow, and I hope that he can help me. The patch took a few days for the medicine to build up in my system, and it's helping a little, but I'm still quite reliant on painkillers. I feel less shame about using them now, less guilt for taking them. I don't really understand why I feel as though I need to prove myself by enduring large amounts of pain, but I'm realizing that it's pretty silly. If I'm hurting and have the means to lower that pain, why shouldn't I? I would want anyone else to do the same. I do tend to treat myself much more harshly (and abusively) than I would ever treat someone else, but I'm working on overcoming that. I'm still learning how to be kind to myself. It's a long process, but one that is proving worthwhile. I think it's contributing to my satisfaction and joy in life. C is wonderful, but he is not and cannot be my everything. It would be unhealthy for me to expect that. I need to find my own joy and satisfaction outside of him and our relationship, although he does bring me much joy and satisfaction. That's why I'm grateful that I can still work some. It does a lot for my spirit to know that not only am I still somewhat self-reliant, but I am helping others. It's been hard, this loss of independence and control over my life... but I still have some measures of self-reliance left, and I cling to them.

Now I'm just rambling. I ran out of the effective painkillers my rheumatologist gave me to tide me over, so I had to take a large dose of two other painkillers that I still have. It worked, and I feel very relaxed and happy, which I love. I can see how easy it would be to become a prescription pain killer abuser, but that is something that I do not want. That contributes partially to my guilt over pain meds. I'm afraid that by enjoying the relief from pain and the mild euphoria that the drugs sometimes bring, I am choosing the path of the drug abuser. I know that's not the case, but enjoying the effects of the pain killers frightens me in a way. The weather has been forcing me to take more pain killers than I would normally (the barometric pressure is all over the place!), but I have other, more active ways to relieve the pain as well. C claims that I'm going to kill him with wanting sex so much, but it's just a natural part of who I am. I think he secretly enjoys the fact that I want him so much. In fact, I know he does. He pretends to hold out because he likes to watch me try to convince him to "give me a dose of painkillers". I found that little tidbit out last night, and I pretended offense, but I find it just as fun as he does to try to convince him, so the game will go on.

Summary: getting the medical help I need, despite our financial hardships. (Payment plans FTW!) Life is good. I love my husband, and I love being married. Took some meds, I feel good, and I borrowed some books from the library so I've been reading like crazy lately. I've been more fatigued than usual, so it's a good past-time.

You know what I've realized? My diet is pretty pathetic.

I mean, it's not that I eat unhealthfully, per se, but I know that it's pretty unbalanced. How's that, you ask? Well, I pretty much just eat the same things all the time right now, and even though they're "good" things, constant repetition is not exactly your friend when it comes to meeting nutritional requirements.

It started when I cut out gluten and soy from my diet. That helped some, but I was still in a lot of agony a lot of the time... plus I didn't know what to eat. In addition to that, I was at a school where meals were prepared en masse and served up at certain times. I had very little control over my food, but I managed to scrape through... somehow.

Then I was diagnosed with a bunch of food allergies. What the heck do I eat now?!
As I fumbled my way into my new lifestyle, I had friends with experience in the allergy realm helping to guide me.

Then I moved in with the S's, and the education began. I learned to cook-- I mean really cook-- and how to feed a family. I don't think I've ever eaten so well as that year and a half that I was with the S's. It seems to me that having other people around that eat similarly to me, or that can at least help guide me (a.k.a. kick me in the butt to create real food) is a key part of my adherence to actual meal creation. Once it was just me, well... It's hard to cook for one person, especially when you're living with non-allergy people, and there's no room for you to stockpile ingredients or freezers full of pre-cooked foods. That's been the situation so far. I've moved into previously established non-allergy households, and carved myself a little niche, but I've never really had my own space to stockpile what I needed.

Once S moved out, that changed some, but I've become so sick that food doesn't even really hold any appeal for my any longer. I get hungry, sure, but that's the only reason I eat. Cooking is not enjoyable for me. It's a chore.

No, I take that back. I do enjoy cooking, but I'm usually nauseous or just plain sick while doing so, and the energy it takes just doesn't seem worth the outcome.

Also, I went through that phase where my guts were rejecting anything "heavy" or remotely resembling protein, so I've pretty much been on a tweaked version of the BRATY diet for the last three months or so.

I don't even have to take a list to the store with me anymore, a remarkable feat for my foggy self, because I know exactly what I need and in what amounts to make it through an average week. Some weeks I find myself actually hungry, and I eat more, but some weeks I find that I'm sicker than usual and I hardly eat at all. So I may run out, or I may have excess... regardless, the amounts usually don't vary.

I get 5 apples, a bunch of bananas (although there was a few weeks where I was just done with bananas), 4-5 sweet potatoes, 2-3 broccoli crowns, a head of cauliflower for baking, and 3 zucchini or yellow squash. If I need onions, I'll pick up a bag, and that lasts me for weeks, depending on what whims of cooking I succumb to. Sometimes I'll splurge on blackberries if they've got them. I've taken to keeping frozen fish fillets on hand for broiling, and sometimes chicken, but usually not. Honey and peppermint tea are kept replenished at all times, and if I have the money I get cashew butter from a store in the Foothills. Of course I need plain rice cakes to put it on, and a few bags of rice/root chips for easy "I need food NOW" moments, or when I need to take food to class with me. (Chips and an apple are easily portable and not disruptive.) At least one jar of unsweetened applesauce is a necessity, and 3 cans each of sliced peaches and pears in fruit juice. I get a bag of Udi's GF granola when I can, but I also found a new GF cereal that I like, which is handy for the mornings when I'm super nauseous but I have to eat something. Some sort of GF hot cereal, be it rice grits or Mighty Tasty Hot Cereal, and rice milk, original and enriched, if I'm running low on either of those things. Last but not least, one large container of Chobani vanilla yogurt, which I sweeten with agave nectar, and sometimes a medium container of the vanilla chocolate chunk if I'm feeling splurgey.

I already have a stockpile of rice at home, so I never need to buy that. I have a can of coconut milk on hand, should I ever get around to making corn chowder. Sometimes I'll pick up GF pasta to use in soups, but I have a bunch of that in the cupboard already.

That's it. That's what I eat these days. And it hasn't really bothered me until now, because I have this tendency to get into food ruts, I guess you could call it. I latch on to one thing in particular and eat it again and again until I'm tired of it. When I was a teen, it was toast with peanut butter, and baby spinach leaves with Italian dressing. Not at the same time, 'cause that's gross, but those were my go-to's. For a while it was boiled red potatoes with salt. When I was depressed, it would be a large container of Arizona green tea and a box of Ritz crackers.

If you ask the S's what "my food" was, they would all invariably answer "rice cakes with peanut butter and fruit". That was my thing, without fail. I finally got sick of peanut butter, and I couldn't stand the thought of rice cakes with nut butter and fruit for a while, but I'm kind of over that now. I think right now my thing is very well baked sweet potatoes, plain. Super yum. The only problem is that it takes time to bake a sweet potato, so you kinda gotta think ahead... A few months ago, I was obsessed with quesadillas for about three weeks.

But I need balance. I need more "real" foods. I just wish that I didn't have to be the one to make them :) I wish that I could just pay someone to cook for me so I can heal. (Although my guts have healed up beautifully, and I've seen the pictures to prove it!)

Anyway, I found this website/blog called 20somethingallergies, and the lady totally deals with a TON of food allergies, and it's all about eating well and real and right so that your body can heal itself. I'm all for that, but I get easily overwhelmed, and often feel judged and very defensive, even if nobody's saying anything. She straight out said on her site that there's no judging, that everyone is at a different place on separate journeys, and that's fine. I love that outlook. So I signed up for the newsletter, "Baby Steps", because that's what I need. Baby steps. One little change at a time. Maybe starting with cooking a "real" meal at least twice a week... and making big batches to freeze the rest for another time.

Drat. Now I'm hungry... and none of my sweet potatoes are baked up. I guess that means cereal... since I ate my salmon and broccoli earlier, and I have no rice cooked, either. Plus it's Grocery Day (um, night? We go when C gets home from work), so I'm running low on supplies. Maybe I'll be able to drag myself out of bed long enough to make that corn chowder today? That'd be nice. I'm going to try subbing turnips for the potatoes in that soup. Though mashed turnips are NOT the same as mashed potatoes, I think that in soups they swap out pretty well.

There have been a few interesting twists and turns of events in the past few days. I just haven't had the energy to think about them, only react in real-time.

So Tuesday was kind of a sad day, with this giant wall of "shoulds" looming over me that I felt in no way equipped to fight. I felt trapped by my body and my health problems, trapped by my financial situation, trapped by my living situation (more on that in a minute), like I was failing as an employee and a productive member of society, and just generally defeated.

See, it's one thing when the Should Monster (who bears a striking resemblance to the Cookie Monster) is stridently insisting upon one particular Should. It's a whole 'nother ball of wax when it feels like a veritable tidal wave of Should is bearing down upon you, and you can't pick out one particular thing to combat.

I can't be too hard on myself, though, because truly, I'm still learning how to pull out my tools and deal with this stuff. I'm not going to get it perfectly the first time, or every time for that matter. So I forgive myself for not immediately bouncing up and away from the sadness and the Shoulds and the defeated attitude.

Wednesday, I had my last session with my counselor. It was a good one, and I realized something interesting towards the end, beyond the things I already know. Like, I know that the Should Monster is handing me a load of crap and I need to stand up to it, and self-affirmations will help a ton in this regard; that I am afraid of either living up to or acknowledging and owning my awesomeness, because then I feel like I have to perform at this super-high level all the time and that just kind of sets me up for failure and disappointment, so it's better and easier to just put myself down all the time and operate under the premise of "I'm messed up, I'm sick, I'm so screwed up" all the time.

I learned that I perform in spurts. Seriously. This is how I operate best. Rather than having to be operating or performing at a certain level all the time (think 9-5 job, 5 days a week), I am way more productive and don't have meltdowns when I have a spurt of awesome (however long that lasts) and then can retreat into non-productive mode. Think artist, or wedding planner, or somesuch. Musician. Trapeze artist. Writer. Whatever. Being "on" all the time doesn't work for me. And realizing that is super freeing and empowering. Like, just realizing how I operate is... cool. Part of what's been such a downer about the struggle with work is that I "SHOULD" be able to do that 9-5 thing and make it work and get over myself and just survive, right? Dude, I'm just not wired that way. Even if I weren't sick, I would still hate it and get burnt out. Which I have. Again and again. And being frustrated by it because I couldn't understand what was going on.

I also realized that I tend to live so much in the present that it's hard for me to see past this moment. I know it's a little weird, because I have struggles with being fully present in the moment, but let me explain... It's like, whatever is happening now is how things will be forever. If I'm happy now, I will always be happy. If I'm sad now, I will always be sad. If I'm in a place of limbo (which I am), things will never change and it will always be like this and I've failed. If I'm succeeding, it will always be like this... and when it changes, I'm devastated. Destroyed. Because I must have done something wrong, or else it would have always been like that.

I have a hard time understanding on a very fundamental level the ebb and flow of life, the changing, and the fact that whatever is happening now... will not be this way forever.

Maybe it comes from the type of childhood I lived. When things are crazy and dysfunctional, you're not thinking of the future. You're reacting to right now, and this is all there is. "Right now" is your world, because you never, ever know how things are going to change in three seconds. They could stay the same (Daddy's happy. Good. He's been happy all afternoon. Good.), or they could change in the blink of an eye. (Daddy was happy, but then I made a noise and annoyed him and now he's really mad and I'm being punished and he'll be in a bad mood the rest of the night.) The present moment is your world.

So. Interesting things.

But I am learning, and growing, and learning how to wield my tools with yet more proficiency. I was sad about things ending with my counselor, but I'm grateful for all she taught me and showed me. It was really a good little phase, and I know I'll always remember her fondly.

So then I've been fighting Food Stamps for two weeks, 'cause they're playing these stupid games with me. They called me for my interview a couple of times during the time when I specifically wrote down that I was unavailable, and when I (finally!) got a hold of them again, they said they'd put me back on the call list. Days later, when I haven't heard anything, I call back and find out that they never actually put me back on the list. That happened several times. Finally, yesterday, I decided to go down there after school. It was the first day that my schedule allowed me to, so I figured I'd take advantage of it. Plus they'd pissed me off the day before. After another round of calling me during unavailable hours, my calling them and them promising to call me back that day, I called them just before closing and got put on hold... for over twenty minutes. Then they hung up on me and wouldn't answer the phone anymore. (Did I mention this isn't the first time they've put me on hold and then hung up on me?) I was ticked.

As I'm walking up the sidewalk to the Food Stamp building's front doors, my phone rings. It's them, and they're calling for my interview. So I talk to the lady while I'm standing in front of the building! Hah! Long story short? I don't qualify for Food Stamps, because I'm a student and I'm working less than twenty hours a week.

Now, let me get this straight.

You won't help me because I'm in a position where I need help?

Right. Because, the lady explains, food stamps are meant to be a supplement, not the sole source of support.

Yeah, okay, so supplement me. I don't need to be fully supported. If you only knew how I'd been scraping by...! I can make it with your supplement. I'm not asking for welfare, here.

So I explained that I'm physically incapable of working 20+ hours a week while in school, but it makes no difference.

The door is closed in my face.

So I did what any normal woman would do... I went to my car and I cried. Because I don't know how I'm going to survive. Food stamps are out, disability isn't an option at this point... work is a mess right now anyway, but I'm doing all I can there... I'm out of options, and the only thing I can do at this point is live off of my credit card.

So I cried.

Then I called my mom. And she sympathized, but had no ideas for me, except that C should be supporting me.

I've heard that from people before, and I disagree.

It's not that he won't help me out if I ask, because he will. He's proven it, and he's blatantly stated that he won't let me go hungry. That's great. But, though we are engaged... I am not his financial responsibility. I didn't move in with him so that he would take care of me. We never, ever agreed to that, and I refuse to place a burden of responsibility on him that doesn't belong there. Just like if I moved back in with Gramma and Grampa, it wouldn't be their responsibility to take care of me, just because I'm living with them, just because I'm their granddaughter. It doesn't work like that. So I guess I get a little up in arms when people question C's moral integrity for not "taking care" of me while I'm in my dire straits here, because it's like judging him for failing to do a job that's not his. You know?

So I thought about it all day, and I finally decided to bite the bullet. Unfortunately for me, I didn't even think of the fact that I'd had all day to mull it over and C had just gotten home from work and needed some time to decompress, because I just hit him with it right after he walked in the door! I apologized later-- it was thoughtless of me, and rude. He accepted the apology and told me it was fine. Whew.

Now, we've had several "serious" conversations the past few days. There was Tuesday, when I broke down crying because I felt like a failure. (He maintains that I'm not.) Then there was Wednesday, when I had realized from Tuesday's conversation about having space of my own and feeling like a hangers-on that it's really, really important to me that a.) I know that when the house is purchased that it's our house and not just his, and b.) it's really important to me that after we're married we have our own place and space (i.e. no roommates). That was a good convo, and it went well. And, yes, it will be OUR home, OUR house, not just his. It's hard for me to feel that way now, because he's the one putting all the finances toward it... but when we're married, we're partners. Equals. His house, my house. (Right now, in the bachelor apartment, my stuff is kind of socked away in convenient locations because I came along last. He was already settled, and so was S, so it's their place, it feels... I just happen to live here.) And I'll be the one decorating it and cleaning it and all that, so I think I will feel more ownership. Right now is just a weird time of trying to fit myself into convenient little gaps.

I explained what happened with the food stamps, and C was sympathetic. He was very upset on my behalf when they were being so frustrating, so I knew he'd understand my disappointment at being turned down. So then I told him how I went and cried, and then I just asked him... I asked him if he'd be willing to support me until I can graduate and get a job. I know it's bad timing, what with trying to save for a house, but I'm trying my best and I'm doing all that I can, but I'm stuck in this weird limbo and falling between the cracks and I just don't know what else to do.

He asked how much I thought I'd need a week, and then he kissed the top of my head after I told him, "Sorry." He said that he knows I'm trying my best, and that means a lot to him. It's not like I'm just sitting back and doing nothing. So I asked for $200 a month. That will cover gas and should cover most basic food. I will continue to work and go to school... none of that will change. I'm just getting some help from my sugar daddy :) He says he knows what he can afford, and he's told me before that it's not like I'm a gold-digger. I hate to ask him to do this for me, but... I can't see any other way at this point.

It was funny-- I had texted him during the day that I wanted to make Rice Krispies treats, but he doesn't get the texts until he picks up his phone from the weapons locker at the end of his shift. So he's walking out the door with some other guy, and his phone goes off. When he sees it's from me, he's like, "Uh-oh, that's never good..." So he opens it and reads, "I want to make Rice Krispies treats...", and he's like, "I can deal with that. I can very, very much deal with that!" LOL He told me the story when he got home.

So we traipsed off to Wally World to get the ingredients, and while we were there, do you know what he got me?!??!

A neon/fluorescent sweater! Like the one I used to have in high school! (Actually, he's the one who bought the first one for me, while we were up at Ren Fair the year it was super cold and rainy.) I wore that thing to death, and finally got rid of it at SOULS, because I learned that you weren't supposed to draw attention to yourself with your clothes... and neon is definitely attention garnering. In the years since, I've regretted getting rid of it, since I figured I'd never have an opportunity to own one again.

I thought wrong!

You should see this baby in the sunlight. It'll sear your retinas right off :D

So. That has been my past few days. What an adventure. *sigh*

And what a good guy I've found.

Thank you, God, for my fiance.

And with that... I'm off to make the promised RK treats.

I'm back, baby!

I knew I'd come out of my depression funk eventually... it took a week, but I'm on the upswing.

I just need to manage myself carefully, because it's so easy to work myself into a frenzied lather of energy and motion and manic happiness after being down. It's just so delicious being happy, and caring about stuff, and having the energy to do some things! Very, very easy to go overboard.

And so, today I forewent my walk. (Forewent is the past tense of forego, yeah?) I want it, because I enjoy it, but I recognize that today was such a busy day, with so much running around and cleaning and work and stuff, that I would be overdoing it by taking the walk... no matter how enjoyable walking is for me.

I see this as maintaining those physical boundaries. "Today, I will go this far, and no further." (Did I mention that I'm proud of myself? Go me!) Life is busy right now, and I need to be wise. I somehow passed that big test with flying colors, despite freaking out about not grasping the material, and being too apathetic and unfocused to study really well. (I got over 100%. Really? Really?!) I've still got a lot of school work to do (we're learning slope and average rates of change and stuff in algebra now), on top of the HJ, but those are constants. Fluctuating constants, true... I've got a couple of odd jobs this week and the next, and I'm still trying to nail down wedding stuff. Then there's this holiday stuff, like the zombie haunted house. A group of us are going to see S's big play this weekend, and I'm celebrating my Anniversary of Life this weekend with BJ and F.

Oh, yeah-- Happy Anniversary!!

That was an Astrovan at one point in time.

I'm so happy to be alive. And to have my vision back. And that everyone else survived, too, despite the odds! Six years... I can hardly believe it.

Here's to Life.

More importantly, here's to a Balanced Life.

Cheers.