Its been a while since I've written in this. Lots of things have happened. I've been in treatment (both in house and while living at home with Dad) as well as counseling. I've also moved from Dad's care in Florida back home to New Hampshire where the remainder of my family lives. I guess I should start there.
I moved home to NH. It was something I knew would bring dark days and hard times. The plan was to move to my mothers place until I was able to find my own place. The end goal was that I would be on my own two feet and close enough to my daughter to be a part of her life. That was the plan, and the risks were known. So the time came and I moved back to Mom's. She set me up with a room in the basement where I could kind of hide if need be. The truth of the matter is that she lives a more social and busy lifestyle than is ideal for my living arrangements and as much as she tried, nothing short of her not living her life was going to make her place ideal. Still, it was a roof over my head and food in my belly while I got set up. Time went on, and things got very tough. I found myself slipping into a hole I didn't want to be in. Waiting for my claim to come back wasn't going to be an option. I had to do something to improve my situation. I took what very little money I had and started looking for a car. The droves of denials because of my lack of income and fresh move was something I wasn't expecting, though I should have. Finally I found a lender and vehicle and things were going to be tight for a little while, but I had the means to get away now. Then I went out and got a job. Now I mentioned the remainder of my family was here in NH. That includes my cousins. One of those cousins has been more like a brother than a cousin if you ask me. He has gone WAY above and beyond to help me when and where I need it most. Well... He hooked me up with a job where he works. Now I work out of my car and the open road is my office. Its not the kind of job you can pick up women with at the bar, but I don't go to bars nor do I care what others think. I make an honest living working a job I can handle and its allowed me to move out of my mothers and find a place. I currently am living with an old friend. So far the roommate thing works out well. She works all day and I work all night. I love 10 minutes from my sister and her kids, and 20 minutes from my mother and daughter. Sounds like my goals have been met right???? Keep reading.
Well I have got to where I wanted. The problem is that my situation is better, but I am not. I keep getting reminders of how I likely never will be either. Sure on the outside I am doing a good job fooling everyone. I manage to make myself a part of most family events and even do my own shopping. But that alone takes more out of me than it should. Stopping to say hi to loved ones shouldn't be a test of how long can I take the heat. Still I muster up what little fight I have left in me and put on a good show. If I cant live the life I want, I'll fake it the best I can and maybe just maybe I'll fool myself into thinking that I am. Still the demons fight on. Things like feeling suspect about everyone or the overwhelmingly depressing thought of everything I cant do. Its inevitable that I will slip into thought about how hard I have to work to pretend to be normal and wonder if its really worth it. Somewhere in that thought process I'll decide that everyone is out to get me, and that leads to a "I'll show them" thought. There is a problem with that though. All this extremely emotional though process and depression takes a physical toll.
That's the other side I haven't mentioned yet. Between the weather and the forcing myself past my boundaries, the fibro pains and fibro fog have been running wild. I'm so busy focusing on being with the family and doing what needs to be done that I have ignored the things I know I need to keep the fibro stuff at bay. I'll walk into a room to do something, get there, then forget why I was there. Then I'll walk around trying to figure it out only to give up. Then I'll find out later what it was and that its too late something happened because of it. I'm sure people my parents age and up would argue that it's all part of getting old. But I am only 31, and its been going for years. I'll lay in bed at night unable to get to sleep because it feels like I have knives sticking in my back. Usually 6 distinct points all very sharp pain that I would have rated a 9.5-10 a few years back. Now its the same amount of pain, but I am so used to feeling it that I have to lower the rating. But they hurt more than my hernia and more than my hernia surgery, both of which I had prescription pain killers for, so do the math.
So yes I have gotten to where I want to be. But the harder I fight, and the closer to climbing out of this pit, the harder the demons fight to pull me back down. It is indeed a long hard road out of hell.