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02 January 2010 @ 01:03 am
whatever happened, happened  
I tried to write about my decade, because I thought maybe if I sat down and thought about it things would come back to me. Not particularly. When I was putting up the Christmas decorations, wrapping the garland up the stairs: I suddenly realized that it was easy. Last year I had to do it three times. I don't know if I can really explain how terrifying it is to look backward . . . well maybe I should just post my attempt at an outline.

In the Naughties I . . .
2000
- graduated high school, in a class of four.
- went to my first anime convention.
- moved outside Manhattan for college.
2001
- had only been back a little while in the second fall when I got up one morning to head into the city and September 11th tore a hole in things I had no idea were fragile. Stood on the roof of my brother's building and watched the smoke on the skyline. A lot of things that never leave you.
- kept feeling worse and worse, made trips to the ER, and finally went home for Thanksgiving and found out one of my meds had caused a rare form of anemia that was slowly progressing towards giving me brain damage.
2002
- only really came back to fight a professor who was trying to flunk me for faking illness. The disability office was on the second floor of a building with no elevator.
- cosplayed for the first time.
- my uncle died while I was at a convention.
- decided I had to go to a school close to home and enrolled at Columbia.
- looked for an apartment for the first time, and lived in one for the first time, overlooking the lake.
- started drinking Mountain Dew to get through class.
- my grandmother died while I was at a convention.
2003
- finally left Columbia (?); nothing school, bored students, bored teachers . . . can't even remember why.

2004
- Psycho le Cemu came to the US. Followed them all over creation.

2005
- Psycho le Cemu back back to the US. Followed them all over creation again.

2006
- shit, I dunno, I must have been doing something.

2007
- SDCC masquerade . . .

. . .

I'm not going to put 2008 on there because honestly, I really don't remember it very well. I remember SDCC somewhat and Dragon*Con somewhat and that's mostly it. I don't actually remember what years my three great aunts died, or my great uncle . . . I don't remember going to Pennsylvania to help break up the family business and house, help my mother decide what to keep. I can remember pieces of things; I remember the doctor I was seeing who misdiagnosed my arthritis and had me on dangerous drugs making fun of my weight gain. I remember when I asked my endocrinologist to run blood work because I thought something was wrong, and he told me there was no reason the results were off. I remember being anxious and then angry all the time for no reason; and nearly breaking my hand on a wall when I had one. I remember seeing new doctors and having to think very hard to make sure I put my age down correctly. I remember names and words flying away like racing pigeons when I needed them.

I stopped being able to remember more than pieces the same year my current doctor says I started to get sick from the Cushing's. Like standing on a breakaway floor that fell into darkness one tile at a time. Maybe the worst part is not knowing which tiles broke because I was ill; maybe knowing that it could have been diagnosed sooner. Maybe only being aware of it now, with that spigot of chemicals turned off. That is a strange and heavy kind of loss.

Hindsight, they say, is 20/20; but it's quite a bit blurrier for me. I can't afford to try and look at that hazy picture and attempt to figure out what went wrong why. I have to start over and accept that any casualties were unlikely to have been solely my responsibility. Everyone makes choices. Even "under the influence", so did I, and there's nothing to be gained by second-guessing them now.

As they say in Lost: Whatever happened, happened. They also say that everyone gets a second chance at life. (On the downside, they have a smoke monster.) I know less about where the road ahead is leading than ever but I am certain that it has to be better. I just hope it doesn't take a plane crash to get there.
 
 
Current Music: Undercurrent (Jami Sieber) - Braid OST
 
 
 
shadradshadrad on January 2nd, 2010 04:38 am (UTC)
I am in a similar boat, because honestly without someone like my mother there to jog my memory, almost nothing I can recall on my own. It's frustrating, like everything is buried under a layer of sand, and you have no idea where it is but you know it must be there, right?

But, it's better to live in the present than the past anyway.

*hugs!*

(speaking of poor memory, I have your box in my car and have for a while but decided not to risk shipping so close to Christmas... If I don't hit a post office here in Atlanta I will get it when I drive home.)

Edited at 2010-01-02 07:40 am (UTC)
あやかayakasan on January 3rd, 2010 03:13 am (UTC)
I always thought of it more like mud I suppose . . . but same difference.

Cortisol is the stress hormone, of course . . . so anyone who has undergone prolonged stress has been exposed to higher than normal levels of cortisol. I'm not sure how high it generally goes when required (like surgeries, etc), actually . . . though probably not nearly so high.

Well neither here nor there . . . nor is that if you have some spare cash lying about you should download the soundtrack to this game Braid, I think you'd like it.
Glarawen: Elf Majestic Sadparnsangel on January 2nd, 2010 02:55 pm (UTC)
<33333333333333333333333333333333333
あやかayakasan on January 3rd, 2010 03:08 am (UTC)
*hugs*