May. 17th, 2017

quirkytizzy: (Default)
If it is too good to be true, it usually is.

I'd spent the day before in an ecstatic bliss of peace, of joy, of contentment...only to wake up this morning flattened like Wiley Coyote against a wall. I hadn't been experiencing true happiness. I had been rapid cycling.

Intrusive and disturbing thoughts, but without plans or will to act on them, propelled Jesse to suggest that I go speak to my therapist to see if further action (such as intake) was needed. I am relieved that her opinion was that inpatient was not needed, only a boost in my psychiatry appointment to get my meds straightened out.

Then okay, another round of the med-go-round it is to be. It's always a process of trial and error, my body and mind paying for the game of Wheel of Fortune every time. I will try at least three medications, every time, only to find something that mostly works, all while experiencing the bevy of side effects that all brain medications come triple-wrapped in.

1:30 AM. An hour that I am altogether far too familiar with. I skipped my dose of Seroquel tonight, as I'd slept 10 hours today and do not wish to add another 10 hours straight upon it.

The lack of my presence in our daily life greatly affects Jesse. He feels adrift, often as if he is living alone. Given that I spend so much time unconscious under the blankets, it is a fair feeling for him to experience.

I do not know what to do to solve it. When I become so tired that I stumble against walls just trying to get to the bathroom, rest is the only thing I can do. And I become this tired every goddamn day.

We are in a Catch-22. He needs me awake. My body needs me asleep. Neither of us gets what we really want, which is an active relationship. It's amazing how little two people can see each other even if they live together in the same room.

I don't know how to give Jesse what he needs. I don't even know how to give my body what it needs. If the body would simply even out, then being with Jesse in my entirety would be easy.

My body has other ideas, though, and they are never good ones.

I know these troubles are not uncommon when one partner falls terribly ill. But knowing it's not uncommon does not seem to ease it. Couples counseling would be an idea, except the problem is my physical illness - something no psychological professional has training enough to curb.

We cuddle more. When I can, perhaps once a week, I try to at least peripherally participate in a sex life between us. As much time as I am able to give, I spend my waking moments in conversation with him.

But that is not necessarily living a life together as two people in love with each other. And I know he is in love, and I know I am in love.

Sometimes they say that love is not enough. I refuse to let that be the case here. Surely, somewhere, someway, someday, progress will be made to make this a relationship again, instead of some waiting game while we pray my disease learns to take a backseat to me actually living my life. A life that includes Jesse where he should be, by my side and not whiling away days on end on the computer because I am asleep.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
I woke up, growling and gritting my teeth through the joint pain. I'd never before known that joints could hurt like broken glass being ground into more broken glass. Even the hardest of my manual labor jobs didn't produce this kind of pain.

Okay, I seethed to myself. I stumble to the kitchen counter, swallow down Tylenol with my coffee. Take my coffee outside and stare at the gray sky, threatening to spill over with enormous ladles of rain at any moment. Realize I'm on the down-slope of a very bad mood. A small voice in the back of my head says "Switch out the cassette tape. Jam another one into the Walkman."

(Yeah, I said "cassette tape" and "Walkman". I'm 35 years old, motherfuckers. I'll use whatever analogy comes to mind first.)

So I quietly compile a list of things that are going RIGHT:

* I woke up this morning. Not a blessing I hold in high honor most days, but it's still a plus.

* I'm not nauseous.

* There are no intrusive or disturbing thoughts present at the moment.

* I have enough energy to get the basic morning chores done.

* There's food in the fridge to eat - a thing that isn't always there.

* All parts of me are lined up at the same level of awake. None of this "my mind/body is in quicksand while the other is screaming with frantic energy."

All of these could change at a moment's notice. They often do. Crazy and ill play their own game of Tilt-A-Whirl and it's a game I usually have no control of. That part is always aggravating, if not outright frightening. But for the moment, I am okay.

I am okay. Not ecstatic. Not depressed. I have a baseline that is lower than I'd like, but it is a baseline, and I sit squarely on that line.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
A call from Cassie. My mother is not doing well. Far too much to go into right now. I am settling it all, letting the sorrow sift through the barricades I have spent the last 15 years walling her inside of.

We'll be a perfect family.
When you walk away is when we really play...

Please don't let them look through the curtains.

No one ever listens, this wallpaper glistens
Don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen.




I did not remember I was capable of feeling for her again.

I am. I escaped 20 years ago, the first one to run away, the first one to save myself. But 20 years is only time, not a wall, and what's percolating feels an ocean rising against the turrets. More will come as I figure out more of what I am feeling.

I do know one thing, though. I want him dead. She chose her path long ago and he has done everything to ensure she stays on that path.

If I knew a blood-ritual for murder, my stepfather would be dead by morning.

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