(no subject)
I am so thankful that B and I have been together for 18 years, because there isn't anything we can't talk about. We had a good talk this weekend. Every thing seems so up in the air right now, so I'm glad to have him to listen and help decide what we should do.
Last night while B and the kids were gone fishing I got the news that my brothers friend who has the same disease that he does and had gotten a new liver about a week ago died. :( He made it thru the transplant, but his body just couldn't recover for some reason. I'm glad Philip isn't in pain anymore, but he was only 40 years old. It just seems too soon. My brother just turned 40 recently. I really wonder how much longer he's going to have before he gets a transplant.
B and I haven't had sex in ages because I haven't been able to because of one thing or another. This was supposed to be the big weekend where we finally did it. And of course my body decided that every thing inside needed to get the fuck out. I spent literally all night Friday night in the bathroom. And Saturday afternoon we made bad jokes about what might happen if we tried. So we just laid on our bed together and talked, because too much more probably would have ended up with me spewing or wetting myself. It just sucks so much sometimes. All we ever wanted was to be together. But I never imagined that it meant this. I love him so much and still totally desire him, but I feel like I'm just falling apart at the seams. I asked him if it bothered him that we were poor and I was crazy. He said he did feel poor sometimes, but that has to do with his work and not me. And he doesn't feel like he lives with a crazy person. I realized that this is really all he's ever known, so it seems normal to him.
I hate that I'm more aware of the fact that I'm mentally ill then I was before I got on the drugs. It's funny how for years I was just considered eccentric, when in reality I was very ill but didn't really understand it. I'm sure having PTSD plays a bit part in that. I just wish I could feel some what normal. I take a ton of drugs and it seems like all I get is the fact that I know I'm sick. I still see shit. I still hear things. I still have paranoia. Just now I know that it's not normal to see small things running away out of the corner of your eye. Or giant monsters in broad daylight in parking lots. Blah squared.
Last night while B and the kids were gone fishing I got the news that my brothers friend who has the same disease that he does and had gotten a new liver about a week ago died. :( He made it thru the transplant, but his body just couldn't recover for some reason. I'm glad Philip isn't in pain anymore, but he was only 40 years old. It just seems too soon. My brother just turned 40 recently. I really wonder how much longer he's going to have before he gets a transplant.
B and I haven't had sex in ages because I haven't been able to because of one thing or another. This was supposed to be the big weekend where we finally did it. And of course my body decided that every thing inside needed to get the fuck out. I spent literally all night Friday night in the bathroom. And Saturday afternoon we made bad jokes about what might happen if we tried. So we just laid on our bed together and talked, because too much more probably would have ended up with me spewing or wetting myself. It just sucks so much sometimes. All we ever wanted was to be together. But I never imagined that it meant this. I love him so much and still totally desire him, but I feel like I'm just falling apart at the seams. I asked him if it bothered him that we were poor and I was crazy. He said he did feel poor sometimes, but that has to do with his work and not me. And he doesn't feel like he lives with a crazy person. I realized that this is really all he's ever known, so it seems normal to him.
I hate that I'm more aware of the fact that I'm mentally ill then I was before I got on the drugs. It's funny how for years I was just considered eccentric, when in reality I was very ill but didn't really understand it. I'm sure having PTSD plays a bit part in that. I just wish I could feel some what normal. I take a ton of drugs and it seems like all I get is the fact that I know I'm sick. I still see shit. I still hear things. I still have paranoia. Just now I know that it's not normal to see small things running away out of the corner of your eye. Or giant monsters in broad daylight in parking lots. Blah squared.