An ending · 5:34am May 30th, 2018
"And they grew up, and wiser, and mostly happier. They grew together, and found ways to stay in touch; families were started by those who wished them, and fulfillment was found regardless."
"Where there was a way, redemption was found; where there was not, forgiveness post facto."
"Good sex, fun sex, healthy sex was had by those who wanted it, those who consented to it, those who participated in it."
As my silence has probably made clear, I will not probably be updating again, at least not seriously; I don't even know if I could bear to post my unedited drek. My blog posts are a somewhat self-indulgent ramble of degenerating health in the first place, but where they came to a screaming halt, that is where things got dark
From one point of view, I shouldn't be this miserable. My employer has altered my schedule and bent over backwards to accommodate my disability. My spouse has a much better, better paying job that brings great joy into my spouse's life. Her only grief comes from her sister's travails and my own.
But it's my own that have become an anchor. I am in constant pain. This isn't new; I haven't had a pain-free day in nearly a decade, but at this point I have not had a pain free hour in the last several months. The amount of pain and intensity has increased; my strength to deal with it has faded as four hours has become an average night's sleep, and to get two six-hour nights in a row a minor miracle to be prayed for.
In various other arenas, some frightening enough to resemble life-threatening, I have experienced that same simple description: more, worse, less resilience. I fear either oblivion or hell beyond the veil, but to have this pain over and to have the -fear- over becomes increasingly seductive.
I won't take any active steps. I wouldn't do that to my spouse and family and friends. I promise.
At what point does constant pain from little to no known source become something that I can dare call torture or PTSD-inducing? I feel such shame in claiming terms that are applied to those who sacrifice their lives for others but I live like a wounded animal and all things lead to depression, fear, and grief.
I have a new doctor. I can't afford to be without one. She doesn't listen, especially about the pain, but I have no energy, let alone freedom or free time, to truly seek another.
I have always hated how much in my life I have left unfinished and I am sorry that this includes Hunting Season and much else I've tried. Needless to say I haven't felt sexy or sexual in months as well, let alone adventurous and hopeful. I am reduced to begging the universe, God, chance, whatever you believe in or don't for a miracle before I lose my job and my health insurance, and our finances can't survive the year to SSDI... if they'd even take me, since my weight might be enough for them to claim it isn't "really" fibro.
If some miracle occurs and I get to be a human being again, I might return, but I doubt it. The person I was, failed and drifting as I might have been, has left, and all that is left is the animal flesh, screaming for escape from a trap that refuses to show itself even so much as to tell me what limb to gnaw off.
Sorry to hear that mon.....🙁
@Troublesome Beast If this really is the end for you, then I wish you all the best and I hope that you find solace in something that you do enjoy. I also hope that you find the means to combat your illnesses.
Though, I won't lie. I'll miss you and your stories. I enjoyed your work and I still do. I was honestly looking forward to the day where we could have passed some ideas back and forth for potential stories.
That said, your health is more important and right now, i just want you to be okay. You were and still are one of my favorite authors.
Good luck and Godspeed, wherever you are.
Wish you all the best, Beast. Thanks for your stories. You may not have finished HS but 270k words is a hell of a lot.