Everything seems to be hitting me all at once.

Why is it that problems can’t come one at a time?? they have to come in 3’s and ruin lives.

Recently hearing the news that one of my fellow deviants on deviantart- and a true supporter of my own personal photography- died in a car crash, the worries I held for so long, & things I’d been making big deals out of-suddenly seem so small and silly.  My family & friends are what’s important. As well as what keeps me happy..my cameras and my pups. To protect my heart from hurt, I try to deny the inevitable, as I’m sure most do. What little we humans know about death, except our own sorrows.

Rest in peace, my love.

to stop getting myself excited when feeling well on my “good days”-all it really is- is all the medication doctors prescribed, finally working.. giving me this illusion that I’m healthy and can do all that I could 5 years ago.

The pain, the nausea, the fatigue, the restless and sleeplessness..the monster is still inside doing whatever it can to destroy me, and it’s been doing a pretty good job lately. With outside problems adding stress, my body just collapses. I sleep for days. I sit up all night, thinking. Upset I can’t take my negative energy out shooting, or even seeing friends when I want.

I’m living as much as I can when I can, but deep down I know, this isn’t really living. And it attacks, whatever time it likes..sending me to the hospital again. again. again. When the doctors and nurses know your name and date of birth..you’ve been there too often and someone needs to figure something out for you. I’ve had doctors that tried a little. and doctors that had sleepless nights over me, trying to figure out what it was, and how to fix it. But they don’t know everything when they can’t see half the symptoms in daily life forms.

There is so much more. I hate being such a burden to everyone. I can see it on their faces- in turn, I’m hoping they don’t see the heartbreak on mine.

I made a promise to myself 2011 would be my year.

Maybe I wasn’t specific enough, jinxing what I thought would be wonderful.

I miss you Grandpa. I feel so guilty for not visiting you the other day with mom and gram; but I guess you know where I was. In my bed, in the room that was once yours, and now my own. It’s crazy but it makes me feel close to you. Whenever I start feel sad, or a bit sorry for myself..I remember you, your strength and how you never once complained. I sometimes wish you had opened up to me..but I understand, I’m the same way..of course. If you were here, I think the doctors would take me more seriously. They’d look into your sea blue eyes that were kind but stern, they’d listen to your calm but intense voice and I’d be hooked up to machines and given tests by the best doctors within minutes-getting results and great bedside manner.

But.. you’re gone because of the doctors illegally testing medications on you, that are supposed to be saving my life right now. I’m in limbo- not really living, but not dead yet. It’s an awkward lonely place, and I wonder if you were here too. I wish I was there more if so. This is no way to live, and if the doctors could feel this for a second, I believe they’d have worked harder. You’d be with us now, and I’d be the picture of health, working on a huge photo project somewhere in Paris.