Apr. 7th, 2017

Good enough

Apr. 7th, 2017 08:13 am
quirkytizzy: (Default)
I don't know what to write.

I write these bright, shining moments of strength....but it so often feels that's all it is...moments. And I know that's all that anyone gets, these moments that are supposed to allow us to persevere.

But I'm beginning to think my life is not one of perseverance so much as it is endurance.

In many ways, Matrixx, you are right. I am now much older than I was at the start and even the near end of that previous battle. Older, far more weary, and with less energy than I had before. This happens naturally as we age. Throw in a disease that literally saps away energy and the malaise triples.

But I've got to find something to hold onto. If I don't, I have no chance of continuing. I'll just melt into a dark, smoldering place and never reforge myself from the embers. So I'll use this, that old battle, until something better presents itself. Something resembling some semblance of health. Something...I don't know.

The helplessness turns into hopelessness. The hopelessness eventually gives way to rage. The rage only sustains me for a short time these days, as anger is exceedingly fatiguing. Then I'm back to helplessness. So the cycle continues. I am unable to see any picture, big or small.

It's so hard not to rage or despair at the Universe. At Fate. At God. At these nebulous concepts that I don't even believe in. It's human nature to want to blame someone, SOMETHING, for our ills, and I am most certainly human.

I'd blame my parents, but they cannot be faulted for their DNA anymore than I can. So that's a useless idea. Besides, while we know lupus is genetic, we don't even know if it's family-passed-genetic. It could just be some random mutation that happens to random people as far as we know.

The lack of answers about this disease are becoming more and more apparent...and more and more frustrating.

It's so hard to want to see another day when you know the day will be the same as the last - difficult, in pain, physically draining and physically immobilizing. But want to or not, the next day always comes, and I have to get up and deal with it. Limping, wincing, and often unable to do more than travel from the couch to the bathroom to the bed.

That's not perseverance. That's endurance.

I guess if that's all I have right now, then it has to be, on some level, good enough.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
I did something that has been 13 years in the making.

I gave my father the link to my LJ. It is a gift from me beyond compare. It took well over 10 years before I trusted Cassie to this. And no other family member has ever been given the offer to read this. (My mom somehow stumbled onto it, but given the choice, I would never have allowed her to see it.)

It makes fair enough sense that as he is now a stabilizing force in my life, that he deserves this. It is also the fastest way to check in on me. I told him today that I would be nothing short of honored if he were to read up on at least the last twenty or posts or so.

He got sober at 60, an age where most people give into their demons permanently. Against all odds, he somehow found the will to change. And it gave him this serenity that I never thought he would find.

I've told him he a single most inspiration in my life. It is never too late to turn the tides.

It's funny, for all the years he beat the hell out of me as a child, it turns out once you remove the alcohol, a very decent man lay underneath. He was just a mean drunk.

I warned him that my journal is raw, often ridiculous, and filled with dark places. He seemed to understand that, given the circumstances.

For the first time in my life, I trust him. He will not use these words against me. He will not read my words and run off on some wildly out of based (if not well intention) advice. I think he will be able to accept my feelings and react appropriate to them.

For the first time in my life, I feel safe about sharing what is the color and makeup of what makes me ME. That has to count for something.

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