Sorry for turning this place into such a cesspool. I don't mean to come here, dump shit and disappear, leaving behind dead and beheaded parcels like the feral, deranged UPS cat. I've always been a shit corresponder. Always mean to do better, and my ineptitude consistently betrays my care for the people I value most here and in 'real life'. Not sure what that is.

I've been existing at humdrum for a time now, it seems. Quitting my job has eliminated a lot of bullshit stress from my day-to-day, but I've also missed a lot of support in the forms of good friends and financial stability. I have a part-time gig that pays hourly what I was making after 5 years at my last job, but I need to find something else soon to make ends meet.

I don't know if I'll ever snap out of it. I'm a slug. I don't write, or art or music any more. Just dull, uninspired day-to-day work, eat, sleep, repeat.

My leg is mostly healed. It's one of those things like swirling salt into a wound that reinforces the fact you're not a normal person and even healing a broken leg presents a few frustrating, admittedly painful setbacks for someone with seizures. But, thankfully, being fairly young and previously fit, I've managed to slog through to the lighter end of the tunnel and, save for some residual strangeness, and more twinges than pains, i can walk a fine mile or two without a stick, and bike around town, no problem.

Wanna my sweet X-Rays?

The lines are the traction device. (It was not very effective, apparently.)

After surgery.
(Dr. added pen marks to show callus formation process whatever)

New leg! Said they used the longest rod they make.
Thank God not having to wait for a longer one on special order!

I even got my shit gathered and packed for two week-long river trips this summer, both of which I planned and organized and went off mostly without a hitch, miraculously, save for the one in my literal giddy-up. The trips had been my carrot during my femur recovery process and they were both incredible weeks in some of the most treasured places, but while I'd expected to feel rejuvenated after, I've felt nothing but flat. Like I stepped out of the boat and fell back on my face and just stayed that way. 

I don't really want to leave my house most days. Taking for granted a new leg, taking for granted any day that isn't FUBAR'ed by unseen and uncontrollable forces, but I'm depleted. Resigned. I feel so guilty for feeling so stuck, and letting it all pass by without due reverence, a heap of indolence, intentions and inaction. 

My mom has been helping me pay for counseling. I hear it's a slow process, but I'm hopeful. So I'm trying to work on things. Maybe I can make good and start giving back all the life I've sucked from the planet. Do more good, give more for a change, and be less blah, and debilitated by defeat and fear and hopelessness. I have so much. I know how lucky I am. Most viscerally. How glad to have it all return when it comes reeling back.

What is my fucking problem?!

Foof

Life can be such a gut punch.

My older cousin has had seizures for a while now. For one reason or another we weren't in direct communication at the time. I'd talked with my aunt in regard to things that had been helpful on my own seizure struggle bus ride.

Yesterday, my aunt woke up with two sons. When she got home, she only had one. My cousin died from a seizure while he was alone at work.

This is his 10 year old son.

Dang. Some days it all seems so exhausting and miserably futile. Why bother when the gremlins are set to pull the rug out from your feet again and again? Can I just stay curled up down here forever? Send puppies and kittens.