Being me: I often fail. But I always try.

Wow.  Talking about getting things out in the open about communication.  Posting what I did on Where Fireflies Dream was long overdue.  I could say it was difficult, and it would be the truth, but it was also very necessary.  What I deal with every day sometimes means I have to keep things inside more than I should (if that phrase even made sense).  And when it comes time to spill the contents of an otherwise overflowing mind, well, I have no real idea how it will land on the page (so to speak).  Still, what fun would it be if I always held back?

Maybe I talk too much here lately about my health issues.  Don't know.  What I do know is that I need to talk about it so I can sort through it all and find out exactly where I am with it all.  Do I accept what I'm told?  What do I do with the waiting, waiting, waiting?  How do I expect of others?  Do I give in and let the current take me into what looks like dark waters, or do I hold on and maintain the familiarity of who I am?  I don't know where this all will take me, but I have to remain me no matter what the outcome.

I've spoken a lot about living with someone who is indifference-with-feet, so I won't revisit that except to say it's my reality.  Looking for the place to draw the line in the sand with that has also been an investigation of sorts.  I really need those answers.

As for what's keeping me in this odd limbo is not knowing what my diagnosis is.  Yeah, it doesn't help to know what others have gone through, seeking answers for years while living with symptoms, etc., especially in the absence of a support system.  I can do this alone, but I really need to know what I'm dealing with.  Anyone get that at all?

Being me.  Sounds so freaking simple, doesn't it?  I mean, how can we not be ourselves, right?  It's amazing what changes when dealing with the unknown of this nature, unsure of how your life will be like going forward with X, Y, or Z diagnosis.  Never mind the effects of not having one at all and living with a mystery until someone figures it out.  Blood work, etc., doesn't always reveal what's wrong in a timely fashion.

Oh, and where's the coping mechanisms that keep me grounded?  Hell if I know.  Good days, bad days, dealing, not dealing, hope flourishes then fades.  Damn.

Being me.  Hanging on and remembering who I am.  Every day.  Wondering how I reach out and connect when it feels like I don't have the strength.  Remembering how I used to feel.  Seeking absolution in strange places.  Finding peace in hidden places.

I suppose my words sound random, unfocused, impotent.  Okay.  I'll give you that.  But isn't that what journals are for?  I often write when I can't talk.  Making sense isn't always the goal, at least on [virtual] paper.  Sorting through the confusion and the unknown isn't easy for me right now.

*sigh* Most of my confusion comes from facing the unknown.  I just wish I could get the answers I need to know how and when I can proceed.  Tick tock, Dr. V... I need those test results.