(no subject)
Well, the good news is I don't have arthritis. Said news was met with a lot of what? really?? and a bunch of relief, followed by a healthy dose of what the hell. I have no idea what's going on with my hands. 8|
But we've checked bones, and they're fine. (They are, in fact, exceedingly healthy. Huzzah.) We've checked tendons and they're fine. Now I'm waiting on the response to a blood test for inflammation markers (which I accidentally refer to as flammable to UG on a regular basis, they're checking to see if my blood is flammable, whoops) and I guess ... we'll see from there...
Shortlist includes hypothyroidism, carpal tunnel, and fibromyalgia. IIIII got no clue.
But it's not arthritis. I'll take it.
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In between this entry and the last, I actually sat down and talked to Undead Gamer and told him I want to move out. I explained why, and here is why: it's nothing directly to do with him. But I have depression, and he makes it awfully hard to be anything but depressed. That is to say: this is going to sound terrible of me, but he's too supportive. It's really hard to pull yourself to your feet when you've got someone cushioning your every move.
Which is a lot less of a long story than I was going to give, but my hands are being a pain in the ass right now, so long amounts of typing is out of the cards. Basically, though, I need to be self-sufficient again. I need to find the motivation to stand on my own and walk forward and get everything in order and start doing everything for myself instead of this super-comfy pair of crutches I live with, because being depressed makes it really hard to not do anything other than curl up on the couch like a dead weight and go it's okay, he's got this. It's less about not living with Undead Gamer and more about not living with anyone. It's about taking control of my life, basically. Also, I just like living by myself, and I have never stopped being irritated by his terrible home and hygiene habits (go back to 2003 and see my regular rants on the subject, hahah.) I just shaved off the pieces of myself that cared about it, and that's also part of the problem. But mostly? I could live with that, if it wasn't for the fact that the rest of me was just slowly drowning in mediocrity. So.
It probably sounds selfish as hell, but I want my own space again. And I want no choice but to pick myself up off the ground, because nobody else will do it for me. (And nor should they, for that matter.) They'll just make it too damn comfortable to stay on the ground. And on the flip side, I think he'd be better off without me hanging off his neck, too. Everything he does is weighted with the fact that he has to factor me into it.
We've talked about it, and I told him it probably wouldn't be for a year or so, and I laid out all my reasoning. And he talked then about maybe going back to live with one of his mothers, as the other one was going way up north for work and wouldn't be around much. Less rent, he'd be able to support his mother, and he could maybe concentrate more on his gaming company. So.
Pretty amicable. Right now my plan is actually to (a) get my hands back in order, (b) work out a solid way of getting paid and (c) probably still stay right here until Tush's life comes to an end. The devil cat will be 15 this year. She still acts like a damn kitten, but between the fact that 99% of places won't accept pets and the fact that she's comfortably used to this neighbourhood, I figured she may as well live her life out here.
After that, we'll see. I'm casually looking at apartments (...an ironically found a great one straight away, but I have no money for it so I just pined at it and took it as hope that the search wouldn't be impossible later) and looking at options, and have told UG if he wants to ditch me at this apartment and move back home like he was thinking, I'd be okay with it.
So we'll see.
But we've checked bones, and they're fine. (They are, in fact, exceedingly healthy. Huzzah.) We've checked tendons and they're fine. Now I'm waiting on the response to a blood test for inflammation markers (which I accidentally refer to as flammable to UG on a regular basis, they're checking to see if my blood is flammable, whoops) and I guess ... we'll see from there...
Shortlist includes hypothyroidism, carpal tunnel, and fibromyalgia. IIIII got no clue.
But it's not arthritis. I'll take it.
--------
In between this entry and the last, I actually sat down and talked to Undead Gamer and told him I want to move out. I explained why, and here is why: it's nothing directly to do with him. But I have depression, and he makes it awfully hard to be anything but depressed. That is to say: this is going to sound terrible of me, but he's too supportive. It's really hard to pull yourself to your feet when you've got someone cushioning your every move.
Which is a lot less of a long story than I was going to give, but my hands are being a pain in the ass right now, so long amounts of typing is out of the cards. Basically, though, I need to be self-sufficient again. I need to find the motivation to stand on my own and walk forward and get everything in order and start doing everything for myself instead of this super-comfy pair of crutches I live with, because being depressed makes it really hard to not do anything other than curl up on the couch like a dead weight and go it's okay, he's got this. It's less about not living with Undead Gamer and more about not living with anyone. It's about taking control of my life, basically. Also, I just like living by myself, and I have never stopped being irritated by his terrible home and hygiene habits (go back to 2003 and see my regular rants on the subject, hahah.) I just shaved off the pieces of myself that cared about it, and that's also part of the problem. But mostly? I could live with that, if it wasn't for the fact that the rest of me was just slowly drowning in mediocrity. So.
It probably sounds selfish as hell, but I want my own space again. And I want no choice but to pick myself up off the ground, because nobody else will do it for me. (And nor should they, for that matter.) They'll just make it too damn comfortable to stay on the ground. And on the flip side, I think he'd be better off without me hanging off his neck, too. Everything he does is weighted with the fact that he has to factor me into it.
We've talked about it, and I told him it probably wouldn't be for a year or so, and I laid out all my reasoning. And he talked then about maybe going back to live with one of his mothers, as the other one was going way up north for work and wouldn't be around much. Less rent, he'd be able to support his mother, and he could maybe concentrate more on his gaming company. So.
Pretty amicable. Right now my plan is actually to (a) get my hands back in order, (b) work out a solid way of getting paid and (c) probably still stay right here until Tush's life comes to an end. The devil cat will be 15 this year. She still acts like a damn kitten, but between the fact that 99% of places won't accept pets and the fact that she's comfortably used to this neighbourhood, I figured she may as well live her life out here.
After that, we'll see. I'm casually looking at apartments (...an ironically found a great one straight away, but I have no money for it so I just pined at it and took it as hope that the search wouldn't be impossible later) and looking at options, and have told UG if he wants to ditch me at this apartment and move back home like he was thinking, I'd be okay with it.
So we'll see.