Shower Chairs, Lifestyle Parties, and the Darkest Corners.

I've been sick and sleeping the last three days. An english muffin here and there (easy to prepare,) my pill schedule, water, let the dogs out, feed them, refill ecig, pee, sleep, see who's texted me, homework.

Depression has definitely sank in. But not to the dark, unspeakable edges that I experience from time to time. Moving back to Humboldt. So far, no miracle has presented itself that would allow me to stay. I'm a strong believer in "whatever happens, happens for a reason." That makes it easier to look on the bright side. One door closing and another opening. It's getting closer to that moving date. I'm beginning to accept that I'm leaving LA.

Though  I've always done well by myself, I'm often lonely now. Most of the time I preferr(ed) to be alone. Born a naturally full blooded introvert & recluse. When alone, I'm busy with my art, school, bad TV shows, dogs, reading, and cooking. That seemed to change when I became ill. I find myself wanting more company than usual. The type of company that's ok to have over when you're laid out, unshowered, and not made up. Keeping appearances up is important to me. Flattering & fashionable outfits, makeup, and well done hair are things I pride myself on; i'm an Esthetician after all. These things don't make up who I am. I like to share more meaningful and deep aspects of myself of course. Sometimes it's easier to do that when you feel good about your appearance But when you're sick, a lot of that superficial stuff kind of flies out the window. Merely showering is a victory most days.

Ya, I use one. Who said Firbo isn't sexy??

Visitors come by here and there. People are busy with work and commuting; tired at the end of the day. I'm busy with school, sleeping, and being laid out. Besides, myself nor the house is in any shape to receive most guests. I've been too sick and too tired to shower or straighten the house up lately. My place is a mess right now. I nest in a different part of the house depending on where my back can get comfortable. There, I leave little piles of: used plates, paper towels & tissues, glasses, face cleaning supplies, trash, ect. Something Del hates. Not that I can blame him. I've always been a meticulously clean person. But when you can't get up and spend the energy....

On a positive note, I've connected with my friend's sister who has Lupus, Sjogren's, and Fibro. We've been emailing, exchanging stories, and asking questions. She's the first person I've met that knows what I'm going through. This has been very helpful. We've been communicating, comparing meds, exchanging stories, and exchanging personal challenges. This makes me feel less isolated and misunderstood. It's also given my hope that i'll meet others, in person, who share my experience. Friends and acquaintances have come out of the woodwork to show their support after I shared my initial blog about Fibro on Facebook. This too fills me with hope.

I desperately need to connect with those who know first hand. Who can be there in person, laid out and sick with me. Enjoying the "good days" with me. I hope to find these people upon my return to Humboldt. I should start doing some investigating now to see if there is already a support group for the chronically ill set up in Humboldt. It's a very small place, to find just one would be a miracle.

As I type my thoughts down, I begin to feel better. There are many people I'm very sad to leave in LA. There are people that I look forward to reconnecting with in Humboldt. I need love, support, empathy, understanding, and help. Some good Humboldt friends have promised these things to me; and I look forward to this.

I'm leaving behind a man who has been the best boyfriend I've ever experienced. Though we have our problems, he's shown me what a having a healthy relationship can be. It doesn't have to be all pain, fighting, and misery. It can be wonderful. This person is not only an amazing boyfriend, but a truly amazing human. We've both toyed with the idea of cutting things off a few times. Though that was never easy, as there was nothing horrifically wrong in our relationship. Just different styles. Different people. This is our chance for a forced break. I'll forever think of him as my first true love. The man who taught me how good someone else can treat me. Though I moved out of the apartment we shared about four months ago, we've been together about four years --most of it amazing. I don't believe that there is one true love. I believe that the universe brings different people into our lives, at different times; to learn and grow from. Leaving him hurts. I wonder if i'll ever find someone as sweet, loyal, intelligent, witty, and selfless as he is. This is the part in my writing in which I can barely see through the tears. We did long distance for two years once when I moved back to Humboldt to power through school. It was hard, even though we visited each other, texted and Skyped frequently. We hadn't yet be through the hardships we've seen to this day. We are not doing long-distance this time. This scares me, and it hurts. It's also somewhat of a relief. We can blame it on something else. Though he needs something different, and I do too. But we've never been able to say goodbye before. I owe him a lot. He taught me about real love. True love. Selflessness. How two lovers treat each other. How they care for each other. What they'd do for each other. Actions speak louder than words; and his are unforgettable.

Before this relationship, I was always been fine with not having a significant other. In fact, I've always very much enjoyed dating around and not being "tied down" to one person. I always considered myself to be a serial dater, until now. Mini relationships at arms length have been my specialty. I enjoy the thrill of the hunt. The flirting. The butterflies. Experiencing others' lives and styles; getting to know them. The "what ifs..." Experiencing different styles of fucking; introducing me to new techniques and ways of playing. The adventures that comes with these things have always been a source of entertainment for me. A pastime if you will. Then when things aren't perfect, I get bored, or they get too close --I can easily cut ties.

A book that was given to me upon entering "The Lifestyle" 

Becoming sick has mellowed these adventures out --at least a bit.  Dating with these illnesses is almost impossible. You kind of already have to know the person. Trust them enough to invite them over to your house; or to feel safe going to thiers. There aren't many good days where you can get dressed up and actually go on a date. I find myself looking forward to finding one person to love. To dote on me. To take care of me. Someone who can appreciate me. Love me for my flaws, my mixed up-edness,my eccentricities, and what I do have to offer. Someone compatible in the bedroom who knows how, and isn't afraid to --work me over. Ya, the bedroom. Kitchen counters, showers, cars, those are for people whose bodies work properly. No more Lifestyle Lounge© Booty Call© hookups for me. No more Lifestyle Lounge© parties. I look forward to finding someone that I can take care of as well. Someone I can make feel loved. Someone I can treat well; like I've learned to be treated from this last relationship. From now on I'll just live vicariously through stories of friends and through my favorite Chelsea Handler book, "My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One Night Stands."

I look forward to relaxing, mentally and physically, in Humboldt's slower pace. I look forward to not worrying about money as much; or having to work as much. It's literally impossible to work around someone else's demands when: you are sick for days and weeks at a time, or can't get up early because your sleep schedule is fucked. Who would hire someone with the aforementioned conditions, combined with the inability to stand for more that 30 minutes while having trouble concentrating on account of Fibo Fog?

This blog will most likely seem a little all over the place; like my mind is. I have a lot to accept, a lot to take in, a lot to breathe out. It's more a scattering of thoughts than a well composed piece of writing. But that's where my brain is at right now; and I feel like sharing it.

Namaste maggots.
Purple Power