Corey came home a day early from hunting! So he's been around as I've been slowly wending my way through the day with the intent to pack interspersed with frequent naps. I'm happy that I got to see him before I take off for a week, but it would have been okay had we missed each other like we thought we were going to as well.

I was in bed, just on the edge of slipping into the depths of real sleep after a phone call had awoken me, and I heard the front door open amidst shuffling sounds and a muted jangling of keys. Confession: I can't stand to be encumbered by layers of fabric when I sleep, so I didn't feel that I could jump up to investigate in naught but my birthday suit! I lay there drowsily alert, trying to decipher activity based on the carrying sounds when Corey breezed into the room, all salty, sweaty woodsmoke smell and smiles, bending over the bed to kiss me. It was a warm kiss, but something was awry-- he was eating  licorice!!! (I despise and detest licorice, especially the black kind! Oh, and he knows this quite well.) I determinedly kissed him anyway, but exclaimed afterward how cruel and gross he was, and he grinned and laughed and got a kick out of that.

The day has been a long, slow one. Much resting on my part, and the essential absence of any kind of deadline for being packed or leaving today has been a welcome knowledge. I fell in the shower today when I tried to sit on the stool I have. It slipped out from underneath me and I crashed down, banging my back on the edge of the stool's wooden seat and wrenching my hip a bit. I suppose I shrieked amidst the resounding thump and crash of the fall, so Corey came in to see if I was okay and found me huddled on the floor of the tub, unable to get up by myself and curled in a painful little ball repeating my mantra of "Owwwww, owwwww, ouch, owwww….!" He helped pull me to my feet and I was suddenly incredibly grateful that he'd come back a day early.

My sister in law accompanied me to dinner with the friends of mine that I celebrate the Anniversary with, and we all had a nice early supper at Olive Garden to celebrate the Anniversary. Everyone got along well, which is good. I was not really worried because C is a very charismatic and personable person, but she's not religious at all and my friends are, so I was hoping there wouldn't be a clash of interests or basic world views. We stayed away from the religion topic, though, and all was hale and hearty.

After coming home and all relaxing with books and television shows of choice for a while, I convinced Corey to come cuddle with me as I was going to be falling asleep for a bit (maybe the whole night, maybe just a few hours? I have no clue at this point, though I'm rather hoping for a whole night's sleep). We lay there in the dark for a bit, talking about his hunting trip and how it went, but soon the conversation ebbed away and I found myself dozing off. Just about then Corey got up and left the bed and I was very disappointed that he'd get up and leave just as I as falling asleep. What a super awkward moment to disappear, right? I vocalized my disappointment, but it turns out that he was just closing the door that had been propped open so the cats could come and go as they please. He came back to bed to be with me again and, well, all I have to say is that conjugal relations are awesome, and even if it's been a long time and you feel like a broken record by coming on to your partner again and again without apparent success, keep at it. Keep at it only if you mean it, though; when the time is right a lovely experience will unfold.

I'm gonna come straight out with an honest, brutal truth here that some people may find uncomfortable talking about: stress kills sex drives, and lowers intimacy if you let it. Truthfully, it has been a long time between the last time we were intimate and this time, and that's because we are frazzled a great deal of the time. Sex involves and requires a lot of emotions, and a lot of energy too, and when you're dealing with a mountain of stress being poured over you like a thick, viscous pudding it's really hard to dig up the motivation to do something that isn't "vegging", you know? For me, having sex actually helps me to cope with stress better and it alleviates my depression and anxiety to a degree, but my husband finds himself more drained by the act than I do. I'm revitalized by sex, but he is exhausted. I have a higher, more demanding libido than he does even when things are normal and especially so when things are stressful and out of sync, so that's something that we have both become aware of and keep in mind. It took communication to reach these conclusions, but there was a period of time where I was hurt and confused by his constant rebuffing of my advances; I thought that he no longer wanted me in that way because I had gotten sick, or that maybe he didn't find me attractive anymore, or that he was afraid to hurt me, or that he really just didn't care about me much. I was so wrong, but you can understand how an almost daily (or several times daily) rejection of a flirtatious sexual advance can give the impression that one is unwanted by and unattractive to the object of the flirtation.

Sex can be a huge source of assumptions, miscommunication, frustration, and simmering resentment, anger, and bitterness, and sometimes it's awkward to talk about but you just gotta do it for the health of your relationship. I'm serious. (Plus once you get the kinks worked out and both partners feel understood and validated, you can get some serious toe curling action up in there! If that isn't worth it, I don't know what is.)

Now I'm going to attempt to sleep (again, for however long) and ignore the steadily mounting pain. Falling in the shower and banging yourself up does nothing to alleviate an already worsening flare. Maybe the fatigue will overpower the pain, yeah? Funny how you can play one symptom against another to achieve a benefit to yourself, huh? The Monopoly of Illness, or some such.

I really need to be drifting off to la-la-land here in a few minutes, as I've got to get up early. Why? Becauuuuuuuse.... tomorrow is The Appointment with The Neurologists. You know, the one where we go over test results and I maybe get some answers?

I feel all sorts of ways about this appointment. On one hand, I know that even if all of the tests come back normal and show us absolutely nothing in the way of what's wrong with me, that means that we can rule things out, and that in and of itself is progress. On the other hand, I am both hoping and afraid that some of the tests will show something and we'll begin to have a clue as to what ails me. I'm hoping to maybe start getting headway in treating the root cause of this ridiculous pain (and all of the other fun stuff that comes with it). I'm hoping that the doctors will be able to get me some pain management (i.e. pain meds) that are more effective than what I've got now. I'm hoping for answers, clues, hints even. Anything.

But I also don't dare get my hopes up. (Despite my best efforts, I find myself hoping for things, but I keep telling myself to stop it!) I really hate it when my hope are crushed and I am devastated. I'm afraid that nothing conclusive will come of this, that I'll still be shrouded in mystery. I'm afraid that they will refuse to help me treat my pain. I'm afraid that I've got something terrible, something degenerative, something debilitating. I'm afraid that I'm only going to get worse. I'm afraid that there's nothing we can do to help me.

I mean, there are so many "what ifs". What if it's degenerative? What if the pain never goes away? What if I can't ever have kids? Hell... what if I'm dying? Some people might think that's being a bit dramatic, but considering how rapidly I've gone downhill, how bad it's gotten in such a short amount of time... it wouldn't surprise me as much as it might someone else. My mom even said this last trip that I looked like a chemotherapy patient-- pale, weak, dark circles all around my eyes from the pain and sleep problems... She also said that she fears this is the last time she's going to see me. I can't travel long distances anymore without great difficulty, and she doesn't have the money to come out my way, so... unless I get better, we won't be seeing each other for a long time.

Do you know how sobering and/or terrifying it is to have your mother look into your eyes and say, "I fear that this is the last time I'm going to see you"? Let me tell you, it's pretty damn scary. It made me take a hard look at myself through someone else's eyes and realize... yeah. I'm pretty sick. I've gotten good at denying how sick I am in my mind... maybe to justify myself to others, to avoid undue sympathy, to keep myself from plunging into a morass of despair? I'm like, "I'm fine yo! Um... Can you help me to the bathroom?" Hah.

Anyway, I need to rest. The less sleep I get, the harder this trip will be. C's dad is taking me, which is very nice of him. We'll be taking C's truck since it gets WAY better gas mileage than R's big old beast of a truck. (Funny... both of my dads are named R now. Go figure!) C will have to use R's truck, as my car is broken and in the shop. (We're going to have to get a new one. This has been about a year in coming, but it's still not a pleasant prospect. At least I hardly drive now, so all I need is a little beater to get me to work once or twice a week and to the store if I need it. No big. It just has to have proper hvac and be an automatic.)

I asked C to cuddle me tonight, and we talked over some of my fears. He told me it's okay to be nervous, and that I'm right in thinking about it as "no matter what happens, it'll be progress". Oh, guess what? I went to my grandparents this afternoon for a small Christmas (opening presents and watching a Christmas movie), and on the ride there Grampa and I were talking about stuff. C came up, as I was talking about how incredibly impressed I am with him as a person and how he's adapted to life with my illness and how well he takes care of me and loves on me. I mean, I knew he was a great guy before I married him, but he's really blown my expectations out of the water and shown himself to be a spectacular specimen of human being. Just an all around wonderful man and husband. Anyway, I was saying things like that and Grampa jumped in with the comment that he did have his doubts when we got married (C being a nonbeliever and all that), but C has really impressed him too and he thinks that my heart was really telling me the right thing when I decided to marry C. To hear that made my heart sing and burst with pride. I love that man. He's amazing. And he has the greatest mustache ever. Even Grampa is jealous! He said so himself during one of the 3 or 4 times he complimented C's mustache throughout the afternoon. Men and their facial hair, I swear...

I asked C to tell me some optimistic stuff about the future, to allay my nervousness and all. He looked at me, blankly amused (he's terrible at off the cuff stuff, especially optimistic or complimentary stuff), so I whispered a few prompts to him. "Tell me it's all going to be okay... and that no matter what happens you'll be here... and we're gonna be alright..." He then kinda stuttered out awkwardly, "I'll be here..." (long pause) "...for you." Then we both laughed because it was so awful. I'm grinning now even as I recount it. He's so funny.

Alright. To bed with me, while I still have a smile on my face. Hopefully I don't stew over the "what ifs" too much while drifting off to sleep. I'll try not to. But oh man.... so nervous!

Today, I felt like a normal person.

Not that I didn't feel sick; that's just silly. But the activities of the day had me reminiscing of a time when I thought nothing of going out for an evening with C, whereas now it's become a special treat.

It started this morning/afternoon, when I opened the door to let Juneaux into the bedroom to wake up C, and he rolled over and gestured to me while mumbling, "Come here, woman." I lay down with him and cuddled up close, and we dozed comfortably for a time. Then the dozing turned to nuzzling and kissing, which of course led to other more "adult" activities. (I love being married with a house of our own. It's nice to just jump each other whenever we want.) C jumped on the computer to finish the daily missions for Guild Wars 2 and I ate lunch while reading through a favorite book. C was still working on his dailies when I was done eating, so I went down for a nap.

When he was done, he came and got me and I pulled my supplies together for our evening errands and planned fun. We went to see Ender's Game! We've both read the book and love sci-fi, so we've been eager to see the movie adaptation... as wary as I am of movie adaptations of books. I was pleasantly surprised, though. I think they did a good job. We both wished that they had more time, though, because it just felt very abbreviated in many places. It was good, but I don't think it does the book justice. Not like The Hunger Games did. Anyway, we watched the movie and then went for a walk around the mall afterward. The air was surprisingly warm, yet with a hint of coolness that reminded me that fall is upon us. We stopped in a game store and an electronics store to browse a bit, then swung by the pharmacy on the way home to pick up one of my scripts, fill up my water jugs, and grab some more lavender bath salts for me. There is a bookstore just down the row from my pharmacy, so C suggested we go in and look around, and I readily agreed. I popped into the coffee shop and got a caramel macchiato, and it turned out to be happy hour so I got another coffee drink for free! I picked out a cafe latte with a shot of hazelnut syrup, meaning to save it for tomorrow, but I ended up drinking them both while we browsed together.

I had been thinking lately about a particular person that I worked with at the beginning of my judicial process after disclosing my sexual abuse, Detective M. I thought I might see her at the Vigil, and I did see someone that looked similar to her, but she did not show. Imagine my surprise when I turned into an aisle of the bookstore and found her standing there! We had a nice little chat, and we met each other's husbands. She is really happy that I'm working with E and that the HJ is doing so well. She explained that she deals with enough of the darkness of abuse without dealing with the aftermath of the emotions, which is why she avoids the vigils and extracurricular stuff, which I totally understand. I was happy to have run into her. She's a very pleasant person, and I like her.

After leaving the bookstore, we stopped by the library on the way home so that I could return a few books and movies, then headed home. C was playing one of my favorite cd's on the radio and I was singing along. We held hands while he drove, as we are wont to do. I thanked him for the evening several times, because it was just so... normal. I felt like a "real" person again, out for a low-key evening of enjoyment with my husband. It was like the kind of dates that we used to go on, and it was even sort of spur of the moment, a rarity these days.

Tomorrow I have plans as well. We're going to be continuing our Pathfinder campaign, of course, but then another of my friends and I are going to dress up in costume and visit a local bar that's having a post-Halloween fling. Neither of us drink, really, but we're looking forward to dressing up and going out. (Actually, I can't drink, 'cause of the meds.) We won't be out long, I'm sure, but it'll be a fun experience. I've never gone out to a bar with friends before, so this'll be a new experience. I plan to go as a beauty pageant queen, especially because the dress I have for that requires no bra! That's a major win in my book.

I've had some disappointments lately in trying to make new friends, and I've been quite lonely. I don't want to hang out with everyone that I know, as some people are just not good company or they're energy drainers or I just don't want to be around them for a length of time for one reason or another. My efforts to make new friends, though, have been falling flat on their faces. I was flat out called offensive and told goodbye by a girl that I was trying to set up a first meeting with. Another girl and I connected really well and talked practically nonstop via email and text for a week before meeting up for dinner, which went well, I thought. After that, though, she just stopped responding to my texts and emails, and I don't know what the heck happened. Another girl that I was supposed to meet up with stopped returning my emails, as well as one who was just looking for an email buddy. All this within a few weeks, and to be honest... it was hurtful and bewildering. I felt so rejected and unlikeable... so I said as much on facebook. I got an overwhelming show of confidence from friends near and far, and some of my friends/acquaintances here in Y are trying to help alleviate my loneliness. Hence the bar tomorrow night. Unfortunately, some of those people that are taking it upon themselves to alleviate my loneliness are people that I don't actually want to hang out with for the reasons stated above... but I really see no way out of it, since I stated my loneliness quite clearly and publicly. I can't just turn around and say, "Yeah, well, I don't really want to hang out with you!", can I? It feels extremely rude to turn them down. So... yeah. Got myself into a little of a pickle there.

Regardless, I thoroughly enjoyed today's activities, and I'm savoring the fact that I actually have plans with a friend tomorrow! It just feels so... normal. So blessedly, blissfully normal.

Yeah, I know I'm going to pay for this weekend in no small way (I'm already really feeling it from our outing this evening), but in my mind it's totally worth it. Totally. I wish I didn't have to pay a price to engage in the semblance of a social life, but it is what it is. I'll embrace the joy and survive the fallout, as always.

Oh good grief.

I thought I had written a post the other day, but it turns out that I wrote it in my head and never actually typed it up. That happens more frequently than you'd think. Most of my thoughts vanish into the vapor without ever seeing the light of day, and considering how much I talk and write you can see the volume of thought that is constantly pouring through my head!

First of all, my husband is a fantastic support for me. I broke down when he got home and cried (of course) and ranted (naturally) and even went so far as to accuse him of not being supportive of me. I immediately apologized, and he accepted it graciously. He held me close and said, "Well, you're angry. It's ok." And you know what? He was right.

I hadn't realized that I was angry. I am angry. I'll have to explore that more in depth later, but I am angry. I'm angry with my doctor for not taking me seriously and not pursuing adequate testing and treatment options for me, for letting me get to the state of health that I'm in without really apparently trying to prevent this rapid decline, or even believing it. I'm angry that I hurt all of the time. I'm really angry about that. I hate it and I want it to stop. I hate that I'm losing the use of my arms and hands, and that I had to get a friend to drive me to my doctor's appointment because I couldn't lift my arms and I was twitching all over. I'm angry that, despite "treatment" and stronger pain killers (that I'm taking as prescribed!!) I'm still in so much pain that I've cried every day this past week.

Anyway, I then proceeded to vent some more, and we cuddled, and he affirmed me on my physical appearance as I requested, and all was well. Earlier that day I had practically crawled to my friend's pawn shop to take advantage of a dollar sale for Christmas gifts, and I spent about an hour there talking and laughing with two of my friends. It was definitely a mood booster, and even though I felt little better physically my spirits were lifted. Then when C came home and I was able to just explode with the pent up emotions I felt so much better. I was actually laughing and joking lightheartedly by the time I went to bed even though I still hurt badly.

Support systems. They're what will keep you going when you can't go any longer on your own. J, C, E, the M's... They've got my back. I'm so, so grateful for friends that carry me when I don't even have the strength to twitch.

I found my Never Shout Never cd, and I've been listening to it today. Isn't it funny how a certain cd or song can evoke such a strong memory of a certain time, or a set of emotions? I first heard the cd when I was home this last Christmas visiting the folks, and I listened to it incessantly the whole time I was there and for the next month or two.

What comes to mind is bravery. My friend L had just begun another very aggressive battle against her cancer, and Mom and I really got into the Bring the Bling thing to encourage her. I drew a lot of inspiration from her and her fight, because I had just been diagnosed with fibro the month before, and I was still reeling, trying to figure out my new life and this addition to my identity... not to mention struggling with intense pain before I ever got painkillers.

I was full of bravado, hope, and optimism, despite my fear, uncertainty, and pain... and that's what comes up when I listen to this cd, especially this song.

Incessant pain has a way of wearing you down over time. I was brave then, but I hadn't lived with this for as long. I'm still brave, but in a different kind of way. The fresh young soldier is filled with vigorous bravado; the weathered veteran has a worn, hardened bravery. Neither are wrong, but they are very different.

I'm still trying to figure out how to live with the pain and the host of other symptoms that accompany it. It's a day by day process, and sometimes I don't want to do it anymore... like today. I wanted to give up, get out somehow... but the only way out when pain is your life is to quit life altogether, and while I may be desperate enough to contemplate it, I'm not desperate enough to carry through. There is too much that I love holding me here. Too many people that I love, to be specific. If I weren't selfishly hanging around to take in all that love, I could still say that I wouldn't want to betray their love and trust by leaving of my own volition. Either way, I've gotta keep going, if only for the sake of the love and support that is showered upon me on a regular basis.

I spent a good portion of this morning crying on the couch, defeated and discouraged. After some time, I crawled back into bed with C, who partially woke up and wrapped me in a sleepy embrace. He just held me for a very long time, and it was what I needed to calm down and stop sobbing silently. I realized (again) that he does want me here, he does love me... I am valuable to him, even in my current condition.

So, tomorrow is a new day. Here's hoping I'm brave enough to face it with a smile on my face.

C and I have kind of a sleep routine, I've noticed. I go to bed hours before he does, usually, but when he comes to bed we just kind of automatically nestle in next to each other. Spooning? Is that what they call it? That sounds weird.

Anyway, if I'm having a particularly restless night, that doesn't go so well for long periods of time, so I'll end up on my side of the bed doing whatever sprawl it is that makes me comfortable enough to doze off again while he barricades himself against the wall with a large pile of pillows. If I'm in a good, sound sleep, we'll stay cuddled up all night long. It helps that I'm short and he's tall, because we fit just perfectly together, and his arm drapes over me just right.

Even if we're not snuggled up to each other, though, we're touching somehow. I noticed that our tendency is to link our feet or legs together. It's like we're holding hands, but with our feet. It's actually really sweet, especially in those groggy half-awake moments. It just kind of makes you go, "Mmmmm... *sigh*" and drift off again.

I love having a bed buddy. Especially one that holds feet with me.