You don’t have to read this if you don’t want to, I’m just kvetching and feeling sorry.

I had been feeling so good, finally. Go-getter-ish. I wasn’t pretending to be chirpy. I caught a migraine then, and it’s been three days and it’s only getting worse. I took an Imitrex early this morning because I had it, and it dropped my blood pressure to a crazy place. Considering that rapid drop a few months ago, I’m thinking this might be prefacing another one. It takes a lot longer to type. It takes a lot longer to speak. My emotions are…unstable is too light a word. I’m angry a lot at nothing. The other day I just started ranting and I was so angry it hurt. And all about nothing. I’ve never been particularly pleasant, but I’d like to think that I was never this way.

I’m up right now because I got tired of getting up out of bed, dragging myself to the kitchen to microwave my hot pack, and then dragging myself back to bed. My husband makes good money doing a job he enjoys but that keeps him out to all hours. And when he’s home, it’s likely he’ll be on call. It’s hard to hate on him, but sometimes you can’t help but be selfish.

My stepfather…recently former stepfather…got an offer on the ranch I grew up on. It’s been a long time coming, and it needs to happen; when Grand-père Joe passed it all went to hell, and when Mom had had enough it went somewhere worse. My Katie is off with another family. Has been for years. I wonder if she remembers me. She’s eighteen years old, now. She’s a cowhorse, just like she was meant to be. She had to learn English, but she’s smart for a horse. I know she picked it up. But still. That was where I grew up. Where my mini long-haired dachshund – my little Pidgey – spent days under the pear tree biting at the mockingbirds who’d try and fuck with her before sneaking off to swim in the neighbor’s fishing tank. And Rusty-dog, who was gun-shy and couldn’t go hunting, but was still a champion mouser. And Schatzie, who was just Schatzie. They’re all passed. The place isn’t what it was.

Maybe I’ve mentioned this before, but I don’t get the fun stuff for people with relapsing-remitting. An IV drip and go out and go hiking, ya rascal! Pretty much from the outset it’s been an IV drip twice a year and palliative care in between. I’m unusual in that the lesions are mostly in my brain rather than in my spine. I need crutches most of the time, but beyond that and the tremors, I’m fine, motion-wise. Nobody will outright give me a straight answer, but I know it’s fucking with my preexisting mental issues.

I’m in CK because it’s mindless, repetitive work, and the monk robes will be out soon. Erelim needs thought, and I dunno if y’all have had days-long migraines, but that shit’s hard to do.

Shit’s wearing down. And it’s a bitch and a half wondering when the other shoe will finally hit the floor. It’s been dropped, but it just hasn’t hit yet. How high up was it? It feels like everything is ending, but the next page isn’t turning like they keep saying it will.


Rei’s next chapter is soon. New mod, too. Sorry for the rant. Here’s a Clavicus.