You know it's bad when... Writing, healing.

I am still entrenched in the world of Fullmetal Alchemist in that I freaking love it, its on my list of fictional places I wish I could live in, and I am still re-writing a fanfic I wrote over 11 years ago. I'm hitting the 200 page mark with it and thought I would end somewhere around 300, but it's starting to look like it might run into 400 pages. Apparently this story needs retold. This story keeps getting away from me. I have a direction but the characters keep deviating here and there. It's fine, I don't mind so much. 

I have been writing pretty much constantly. When I'm not, I feel it pulling me back, but sometimes I need a break, I need sleep, and I have to pay attention to Amanda. I will create or find a balance between writing and the rest of my life, but for now, because I'm finally writing again, actually writing and not forcing word vomit onto paper, I am enjoying it and running with it. I think part of me is afriad that if I stop, I'll never start again and that horrible feeling like the one thing of my choosing that gives me purpose or some thing will leave and that will be it. It will be done and gone and I'll never get it back again. But that's probably depression talking. 

Since my surgery I have trying to take it easy. I haven't been able to lay down yet, so I've been sleeping sitting up, on my sofa. During the day, I generally sit at my desk to work.The other night I thought I popped a stitch when I sat down. Something snapped and it hurt bad enough that I screamed  a little. I don't do that. I don't even really complain when I hurt- which has been a source of trouble lately- and the way I felt when it happened was scary. I decided that if I still felt the pain the next day, I would call my surgeon. The next day came and Amanda and Fiona (who is visiting) made me call when I didn't want to. I was sitting in the bathroom crying and just about got the riot act. Yes, I am stubborn and I come by it honestly, I learned it from both my parents and my grandparents. Anyway, my doctor asked me a few questions and then said she'd call back the next day to check on me. I was fine the next day, sore, but the pain wasn't nearly what it had been. No bleeding or anything like that, so I am okay. Well, it's two weeks from surgery and I still hurt but I'm weening myself off the pain pills- well okay it;s more like going cold turkey with the help of tylenol. But the point is, I'm getting it done.

Okay, the reason there has been some contention between Amanda and I lately because I don't complain that I hurt, is because she forgets that I am in pain. It is my fault. I don't talk about it, I don't fuss. When you grow up with a woman who suffers from chronic pain due to migraines, torn rotator cuffs, blown disks in her neck (seriously my mom's neck feels like gristle) and back and then seizures that came out of nowhere, who is also OCD and depressed as hell for all of it, anything you say hurts feels like your competing and I didn't want to do that. So, I learned to just take some meds, not fuss, and get on with it. Plus whining about hurting gets old to me. So I just don't. Amanda got on to me about it. She said she can't read my mind and that because I have been more or less moving around like nothing happened, it's hard for her to remember that I had surgery or that I am in pain still. One of my friends also kind of got onto me, in her nice polite way. She will ask me if I am okay, and I automatically reply that I am, partly because I don't want to complain and partly also because I don't like worrying people I care about. I'm weird.  

Emotionally and mentally I'm having some trouble. I'm probably not processing things as I should. I've been writing a lot and not really in my own reality per se. I'm not entirely sure I am ready to be fully present in my own reality. There are some things I'm not quite ready to address for myself and some things I am struggling with. Amanda is kind of falling apart because her job- while she loves the people- is sucking the life out of her and were starting to wonder if she doesn't have some form of narcolepsy. I can't tell it is just a stress issue because she seems to have had these issues since she was a kid. Either way, she needs a different job.  Then there is the shit I woke up to yesterday. 

My Mom called me yesterday and I was seconds from getting to the phone. When I called her back she was sobbing. With my Grandparents in such bad shape right now (both of them ended up in the hospital and are now in a rehab facility near home) I thought maybe something had happened to them. Also, my mom doesn't cry. She was abused. So when my mom is cry or in this case sobbing so bad my Dad takes the phone from her to talk to me, you know shit's bad. My mom asked me to call her identical twin, the monster bitch who I cut off for several reasons. My Dad said I should call and at least tell her that I love her (which is true, deep down I never stopped, she's my aunt- but that didn't mean I had to put up with her shit) because I might not get another chance, and not to do it for my aunt, to do it for my Mom. I was fucked then, because I would do anything for my Mom, my Dad too, and I would do anything to make my mom stop crying like that. I hate it when she cries like that, I used to listen to her cry up in her room when I was in high school and after before I moved out, because she was in so much pain all the time. I actually used to wish she could die just so she wouldn't have to feel the pain anymore. Which to me, was really fucked up, because she's my mom and even back when we butt heads all the time, she was still my best friend and I didn't want her to die. I needed her, still do. 

But yeah, I asked my Dad to text me my aunt's number and made the call. Again, I knew things are really bad because she didn't pull any of her usual emotionally draining martyr victim crap or yell or anything like that. She got a little biblical preachy for about five minutes, but otherwise it was a really good conversation. She's got a lot stuff wrong with her and apparently there's something going on with a tube that connects to her gallbladder and supposedly it is a risky surgery. Or at least it is risky for her with all of her health issues, one of them being an ITP blood issue- aka she's a bleeder. But she's in so much pain and depressed and my aunt didn't tell me, my parents did, but she's given up on living. She just doesn't want to do it anymore. And she's terrified that my cousin Shi-chan will kill herself because she's so utterly depressed. There's a lot more going on, drama from my other two cousins that's completely disgusting. I try not to hold myself above other people, I really don't, I don't think I am better than anyone else, I generally feel like I am less, but in the case of my other two cousins from aunt, at least I am not a lying pill junky who only likes her kid as a play thing or a raging violent alcoholic.  Seriously, I am glad to not live back home just so I am not constantly exposed to their bullshit.

Anyway, I guess when it rains it pours. But I am writing again and it's made me so happy.