Crawling back into the saddle

I haven’t had a lot of energy to post this summer. I’ve been trying a new medication that half-killed me, and running support for Arthur and his newfound celebrity as best I can. I clean, and cook, and do laundry, and run all the errands necessary for a functioning household. I hug cats. It’s enough.

The novel stalled during the many weeks of severe medication side effects. I think about it every day. Sometimes I write a little, but I’ve only advanced maybe 5,000 words in 4 months. I started a new story based on a dream I had about a unicorn and a trail ride I went on while vacationing with my family in Montana a few years ago. It sounds dumb when I describe it like that, but I have hopes.

I’m writing this from a hotel room in Los Angeles. I don’t know how the next couple days are going to go, but all of you won’t know for a couple of months. Yesterday we camped out in the room and didn’t go outside until after dark: Arthur studied, I wrote 2800 words of unicorn story draft, the most I’ve written in ages, and two people filmed us. Did I mention there’s a documentary about Arthur? I’m a little unclear on how the final product will trend but it’s about his Jeopardy villain-ness, his response to the fame, his position within the geek world. Because it’s about him and I’m around him all the time, I’m in it. I’m not a huge fan of cameras and the whole thing has been a little stressful. I will honestly be glad when this is all over and we can relax. But what an exciting time, while it lasts!

I’m trying yet another medication, now. It’s only been a week, so I don’t know whether it’s going to help. I think I was a little less destroyed by the flight to LA than I might have been otherwise. I think it might be stabilizing my energy level. About four days in, a peculiar warmth crept up from the ends of my toes into my chest and arms and jaw. My gums feel hot all the time. Sometimes I taste metal, sometimes my ears ring. It’s so little compared to the other medication that I hardly notice.

I quit my job with such high hopes for how it would help me accomplish all my dreams. It turns out that being disabled and not working is still being disabled. I need something to keep me going, because all I can do on my own is hang on by nails and teeth to keep from losing ground. My consolation is watching Arthur’s star rise and rise. He’s doing everything he ever wanted – he’s on national TV, he’s writing regular articles for major internet news/opinion outlets, he’s building his freelancer cred. He loves getting paid to have opinions on the internet, when for so long he just did it for free.

And I’m hanging on. Despair will scrabble at my back, and leave deep runneled scars, but never get a grip. I’m trying things. I’m hugging cats. I don’t know what’s going to happen, and that’s okay. If this isn’t the best of all possible worlds, it’s pretty darn close. Someday I’m going to feel better, even if I’m never cured. Something will work, and then it will be my turn to have all my dreams come true, and probably we will become some kind of nerd power couple Voltron, slinging justice and dorkery across the interverse. I look forward to it. I have hopes. Love, and modern medical sorcery, and love, and the willingness to say yes to any adventure, and love: These will see us through. These are enough.

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