I’m changing my life. This website, my current activities, I’m actively taking control of my life. I don’t have a history of being passive exactly, but I have hung my life on others before, waited for them. I’m not waiting for others anymore.
Vance and I are amazing. We actively work together. Everyday I feel more love for him, and I look him in the eyes, and I see he feels the same.
My plan
I’m working on formulating my new road map. I really want to make a difference. I need to. The possibilities are near endless, but the destination is the same. I really want to make a difference in the world. I will. If I shed light on what I went through, what so many have gone through, we have a chance to prevent the pain, the next generation has a chance.
People often tell me how strong I am. Yes, I am strong, but I wish that for five minutes I didn’t have to be. I wish I didn’t know my limits only from repeatedly being forced beyond them. I wish I didn’t know what it was like to bury aspects of yourself so deep, only intense therapy and life changes lets them out. If I could choose, I would pick an easier life. But I didn’t, and that’s the issue, we don’t get to choose.
I didn’t choose my DNA, I didn’t choose to have a “sister” that was socially and emotionally unequipped to treat me as an independent human being. I didn’t choose to have a mother who is a hoarder and a cancer survivor. No choice in worrying about my father, a volunteer firefighter. It was conflicting to be so proud and so anxious. I had no choice in my eldest sister abandoning me in order to cope with her own issues.
Blame
Please, don’t misread the last paragraph. That’s not the only way I see my family. They all have qualities I admire, except maybe Bitch. I resent her a lot currently. I hope to move past it one day, only time will tell.
So who do I blame? What do I blame? Do I accept personal responsibility? Or do I even have any in this?
I do my best to be logical with blame, cause and effect matter. I was born, my health is not great, short sightedly I could blame my mom, as she has the same genetic condition. However, she had two healthy children before me. Well, mostly healthy, neither are completely devoid of issues, but both are capable of physically working more than 30 hours a week. Maybe I should blame my ancestors, ones long before there was a true diagnosis for what I have. Probably a random mutation and the hypersensitivity can be beneficial, I can detect weather changes, minor changes in temperature, and I can tell you if there is mold or mildew in an area very easily.
Realism
Sometimes it’s hard to know how to be realistic. I can easily succumb to fears, doubts, and the overwhelming sense of truama I live with. But it isn’t helpful to do so. It doesn’t help anyone. That’s important to me, helping. I guess it’s one of the only things I can see to make life worth living. If I can make someone else’s life better I’m of value. Because without that I just feel like a burden.
I know my partners think that’s crazy. They see my worth. But I’m not them, and it’s hard to see sometimes.
Quick updates:
I know the blog has been quiet. Honestly I’ve been rather overwhelmed and had writer’s block.
But here’s some things to look forward to:
- I got to see Lenore!
- We finished our move and we see Jay more!
- We will have a real vacation in a few months!
Set wet my readers!