Chapter 62: An Explanation of Sorts
Please skip to next chapter which I am immediately posting after this if only interested in story, to those who wish a frustrated diatribe and maybe offer a word or two of help (or hey, a review works to revive the spirit too), before the next chapter in the story that is Andy and Miranda's, is MY story (only one seems to be heading towards a happy ending.
Many think I've abandoned this story. I haven't. Not a day goes by when I don't open this document and will my own will to revive. The last months have been hard, unemployed and applying for jobs I DON'T want in a field I've worked in for 6 years that I was forced into. Wanting desperately to do something else but not sure where to start and how to afford the transition and education needed. Multiple medical diagnoses that complicate my already complicated record in both psychiatric and corporeal maladies not least a brain tumour. And I'm only finding out now, nearly three years after surgery just how serious the implications have turned out to be, that I originally dismissed. My memory, once truly fantastic, is shit. Whatever they did to my brain seems to have affected my sleep and made me borderline narcoleptic, I had to plead with my doctor who felt the need to submit a 'report' to the ministry of transportation as an observation. A true diagnosis would have taken away my license (and without hyperbole, my life). Now please note, whatever is wrong with me, I have NEVER fallen asleep at the wheel or otherwise passed out. I'm not stupid, I'm brain damaged. Because I live in Toronto, and am single with no second income from a partner/spouse, I am still living with my parents. Especially since I had to take a year off from advancing my career after surgery. Actually, I took two intensive marketing courses resulting in a certification and a diploma, as well as a course from Cornell University in nutrition (as a subject I AM actually interested in). You may be surprised to hear I aced these, as I did throughout every year of school I landed on the Dean's List. But do I REMEMBER any of this shit? NO. Stress, and the resulting hormone cortisol which the tumour pumped into my body for years, is heightened, and the medications (all 5 of them) that my psychiatrist has me on do little to help. Even less help is the fact my parents are sniping and fighting and I am the constant mediator as I'm the only one left in the house as my younger sister is in university. It's all so stupid, and pointless, and has more to do with intolerance and ego and vanity than anything else. During my 9 or so months of unemployment I've also been taking care of my grandparents who are declining terrifyingly quickly. They are, were? my best friends, and I feel as though I've already lost them as their brilliant minds are fading and leaving sulky, aggressive, depressed and confused people I don't recognize, but love just as deeply, although it hurts much more to love them now. I've decided that love hurts period.
But the main point I wish to get across to you readers, is that these words, these characters, this storyline is burned into my brain. I started writing this before I had brain surgery and I have continued with the same passion, if only in my thoughts when I can't seem to get them down on paper, err...screen. Every night as I fall asleep I scheme and compose and play with words in my head.
I am here, I am staying. I simply have to remember to apply that to the rest of my life as well and remember to live in the real world instead of my own head, where I can daydream plot and ignore reality. Please enjoy the story's continuation and let me know if my writing has much declined.
Much love to everyone reading this, I truly hope it helps pass the time pleasantly while we are all self-isolating during the COVID-19 pandemic.