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TW for cancer, death, pet illness/injury, mental health saldfjasdfssd writing these warnings just. makes me sad on its very own. but they're something I'd appreciate if I were the reader so????? ???
Ever since my dad's diagnosis I've been waiting for the severe memory loss that occurs during my worst breakdowns. It's finally hitting, which is—good? good-adjacent? I'd forgotten that it is, of course, retroactive: my dissociation is fairly mild, I generally need to experience the thing as it occurs; my brain just jettisons it afterward. But it jettisons indiscriminately, and I've started losing days and unrelated memories. I should consider daily micro-journaling of weird and/or ongoing events which I need to remember for the immediate future. I probably won't do that here, but we'll see.
Took August to the vet today. She's been having issues for [indeterminate length of time], which was the first indication I had that the memory loss is here & that it's actually not v. useful (for daily life things; I appreciate how it mitigates large trauma). I remember her fussing when I picked her up; I remember her having a minor altercation with the dog (read: she was cornered and hissy, dog wanted to Give Kisses!!!, probably no physical contact, probably unrelated, but it was a distinct and unusual event); I remember thinking maybe her leg was weird but then she let me manipulate it in full range of motion without problem; I remember noticing hair loss and swelling on her butt. I can't remember the order of these events. I was going to watch the butt for changes and we had a vet visit scheduled; then the abscess ruptured and we moved the vet up to this morning. It all seems to have happened fast, it probably took days. She had an abscessed impacted anal gland; they had to sedate her, so she's groggy & nauseous today, but also got painkiller & antibiotic injections and the abscess is open and draining, and obvs. in a place she can clean, so all will be fine. Going back in a month to check in/look into prevention & draining.
Navarre & Katie & their child Lily have been living here for [indeterminate length of time], probably a month. It has absolutely been my last straw and my agoraphobia is harder better faster stronger than it's ever been except the whole thing that ended with me dropping out of school. I have a longterm anxiety disorder but almost never have had panic attacks—I am now! it sucks! They're also presumptuous, inconsiderate assholes with a really nice child; this house is too small for 7 people + 3 animals, regardless. It would be shitty for a sane person. For me, at my most crazy, it's become untenable.
So we're planning to move, and have been looking at apartments (yesterday; seeing more tomorrow). It is the least logical time to do this, right before graduation/income/can afford apartment. We're digging into the money my parents just got set up for me. Even if not for finances, putting the energy into moving right before we consider moving for Devon's work is just stupid. But being here is causing me active harm.
An [indeterminate length of time] ago, probably ~5 days, I went to see my parents & confirmed that a) my father's recent celiac plexus block set off a 3-week bout of diarrhea and that b) his cancer is not responding to his most recent chemo (which was aggressive & came with its own side effects). He's lost weight and is not coping well, and we are at this point starting to look at end of life as opposed to a terminal diagnosis. It's been 10 months since his diagnosis, so this is pretty much on schedule, and there was never any particular hope for a miracle. But
there's no real way to end that paragraph. "But it sucks," I told my parents. I understand, although I've not yet processed or fully internalized it; I would rather know than not, and we'll make the best of the time we have, but it sucks—a succinct and profoundly insufficient way to summarize my devastation.
When I mentioned this to them, my parents were v. much of the mindset that like, fuckit, we know you just got access to that money, it's theoretically for future-school (if I ever want to try again) or for building savings or emergencies or Big Important Things, but life is legitimately too short and already too shit to not alleviate what we can. What small things we can—and even the work of improving them has its own energy expenditure and difficulty. But it turns out that there's not yet a terminal misery; I'm not so depressed about my dad that I'm immune to agoraphobia. Instead, being harmed by one makes me more vulnerable to the other. So, logic holds: if it can be more bad, perhaps there is also an attainable moderately less bad.
Today, just hours ago, my PC went from "occasional inexplicable BSoD" to just not at all turning on, probable harddrive failure we've seen coming, everything was backed up & we have parts and knowledge to fix it. It's a minor minor problem. But happening today it's just like. of course. of course this, of course now! haha universe I have realized the running joke, and the running joke is just "life."
Ever since my dad's diagnosis I've been waiting for the severe memory loss that occurs during my worst breakdowns. It's finally hitting, which is—good? good-adjacent? I'd forgotten that it is, of course, retroactive: my dissociation is fairly mild, I generally need to experience the thing as it occurs; my brain just jettisons it afterward. But it jettisons indiscriminately, and I've started losing days and unrelated memories. I should consider daily micro-journaling of weird and/or ongoing events which I need to remember for the immediate future. I probably won't do that here, but we'll see.
Took August to the vet today. She's been having issues for [indeterminate length of time], which was the first indication I had that the memory loss is here & that it's actually not v. useful (for daily life things; I appreciate how it mitigates large trauma). I remember her fussing when I picked her up; I remember her having a minor altercation with the dog (read: she was cornered and hissy, dog wanted to Give Kisses!!!, probably no physical contact, probably unrelated, but it was a distinct and unusual event); I remember thinking maybe her leg was weird but then she let me manipulate it in full range of motion without problem; I remember noticing hair loss and swelling on her butt. I can't remember the order of these events. I was going to watch the butt for changes and we had a vet visit scheduled; then the abscess ruptured and we moved the vet up to this morning. It all seems to have happened fast, it probably took days. She had an abscessed impacted anal gland; they had to sedate her, so she's groggy & nauseous today, but also got painkiller & antibiotic injections and the abscess is open and draining, and obvs. in a place she can clean, so all will be fine. Going back in a month to check in/look into prevention & draining.
Navarre & Katie & their child Lily have been living here for [indeterminate length of time], probably a month. It has absolutely been my last straw and my agoraphobia is harder better faster stronger than it's ever been except the whole thing that ended with me dropping out of school. I have a longterm anxiety disorder but almost never have had panic attacks—I am now! it sucks! They're also presumptuous, inconsiderate assholes with a really nice child; this house is too small for 7 people + 3 animals, regardless. It would be shitty for a sane person. For me, at my most crazy, it's become untenable.
So we're planning to move, and have been looking at apartments (yesterday; seeing more tomorrow). It is the least logical time to do this, right before graduation/income/can afford apartment. We're digging into the money my parents just got set up for me. Even if not for finances, putting the energy into moving right before we consider moving for Devon's work is just stupid. But being here is causing me active harm.
An [indeterminate length of time] ago, probably ~5 days, I went to see my parents & confirmed that a) my father's recent celiac plexus block set off a 3-week bout of diarrhea and that b) his cancer is not responding to his most recent chemo (which was aggressive & came with its own side effects). He's lost weight and is not coping well, and we are at this point starting to look at end of life as opposed to a terminal diagnosis. It's been 10 months since his diagnosis, so this is pretty much on schedule, and there was never any particular hope for a miracle. But
there's no real way to end that paragraph. "But it sucks," I told my parents. I understand, although I've not yet processed or fully internalized it; I would rather know than not, and we'll make the best of the time we have, but it sucks—a succinct and profoundly insufficient way to summarize my devastation.
When I mentioned this to them, my parents were v. much of the mindset that like, fuckit, we know you just got access to that money, it's theoretically for future-school (if I ever want to try again) or for building savings or emergencies or Big Important Things, but life is legitimately too short and already too shit to not alleviate what we can. What small things we can—and even the work of improving them has its own energy expenditure and difficulty. But it turns out that there's not yet a terminal misery; I'm not so depressed about my dad that I'm immune to agoraphobia. Instead, being harmed by one makes me more vulnerable to the other. So, logic holds: if it can be more bad, perhaps there is also an attainable moderately less bad.
Today, just hours ago, my PC went from "occasional inexplicable BSoD" to just not at all turning on, probable harddrive failure we've seen coming, everything was backed up & we have parts and knowledge to fix it. It's a minor minor problem. But happening today it's just like. of course. of course this, of course now! haha universe I have realized the running joke, and the running joke is just "life."
