The Return To Innocence

Sunday, the twenty-second, is our sixth wedding anniversary.
I don't remember much about that day anyway, so the days surrounding that date feel more celebratory. Adam's mother was a hurricane that day, taking over almost everything and making sure the wedding was how she wanted it, more Jewish than pagan (she told me it was for her own mother and not for me; I don't think she was joking). I remember fighting her on several things I didn't want and losing. Adam and I were both out of our minds on our wedding day. He'd gotten into a screaming, raging fight with his mother that morning and was ready to go insane. I was a terrified nervous wreck all throughout because it was not really the wedding I had thought I wanted and I had no idea what would happen. Most of the guests were members of Adam's family who I barely knew and I was scared of them judging me. I was a complete mess, full of both joy and panic and probably experiencing a bit of depersonalization and derealization.
(Also, I bet I sound like an ungrateful bitch right now, but every year on the day before this anniversary I start having anxiety attacks and start losing memories of the entire year of 2005.)
The only bits I solidly remember are two things: the ceremony itself, starting from when I stood with Adam at the end of the aisle and ending with Adam and I walking back up the aisle to another room, where I collapsed on a couch and burst into tears; and sitting next to Beca, my matron of honor, and grasping her arm in sheer relief that it was all over and we could go home soon.

It doesn't matter. It really, really doesn't matter. We got married, nobody went insane (I think), his parents moved to Florida a few months afterward, and we love each other (and we love his mother, just from far away).

Adam is still in Las Vegas and won't be home until late Wednesday or early Thursday. We will video chat and talk on the phone and act like it's just another day.

We went to the gem show this morning with friends. I came away very happy: Fluorite, kyanite, lapis lazuli, tiger's eye. Adam had bought me a jade necklace with a magnetic clasp. Adam also bought massage stones to help me when I'm especially tense.

The pain pills are doing their jobs quite well. I no longer need the cane to walk around today. I almost feel Regular Normal. I hope it lasts a while.

Vicki was awesome and added a surprise gift to my order of Sun Lotion. She gave me a pure lotus flower body spray with moonstone. The aromatherapy and psychic therapy is amazing.

I'm going to make some popcorn and watch the two Adams play PS3 Days Of Thunder.

Yesterday was full of attempts to rest and relax. A Futurama marathon, joint supplements, and codeine for the worst fibromyalgia pain in a while. I slept for about thirteen hours. I stretched and worked out and exercised. I still hurt. I'm sore. I feel sad. This is ridiculous.

Adam went from Pennsylvania to New Jersey to New York. He's been in Manhattan since early this morning, and is now on his way home, with food. He said he had bought pastries from the Ben Ash Deli. Yay, pastries.

I had thought the fibro flare was dying down today. I suppose it is in some way. I can't really tell.
It was seventy degrees all day. I went for a long walk through the neighborhood. I spread my arms and spun in a patch of sunlight. I sat in the front yard and read more of R.A. Nelson's 'Throat' before going to the mailbox. Someone had sent me two lovely gifts, the best lip balm in the world and the second best lip balm in the world. (The third best lip balm in the world is this one.)
When I returned to the house, I brushed Jupiter until his coat gleamed and felt like bunny fur. He purred and purred and trilled and rubbed his cheek against mine.
I've been loving that Adam has been working locally, coming home every evening and being able to just spend time with me and the cats. Who knows when his next travel arrangements will be. We are treasuring our time together.
Tomorrow, I start taking the 50 mg Savella tablets. My body is ready for that. So far, I like the drug enough to plan on getting a prescription filled. I may even be able to cut costs in various ways. I'm looking forward to this.

Adam is home. Red Baron four cheese pizza pie is in the toaster oven. Cats are frisky and content. I'm still in pain but life is awesome.
Adam has the next few days off, and is off to work on Wednesday. I probably won't see him until the end of the month, because he'll be working a job in Texas.
The dose of Flexeril made it much easier to move and write and do things. I feel somewhat better, just tired.

Gods, complex partial seizures are weird.
Yes, I did quote a Katy Perry song in my entry title.

The seizure happened in the car. Nobody noticed. Adam was helping Charlotte get her stuff into her house. We had been on the road for over eleven hours.
All of a sudden, my legs went numb and I felt a yank like I was being pulled out of my body, and then I couldn't move, and my heart began racing and I began sweating and freezing, and the world began to go away, and I saw Alicia in my mind, arms stretched out to me; she was smiling. My alter ego epilepsy companion, who looks like Alice of Wonderland fame all grown up in blue jeans and a warrior's grin. I fell toward her, through the looking glass and down the rabbit hole. I was in two places at once. I was aware of the real world, my body, the car, the biting cold. I couldn't do anything about it. In my mind, I began to cry. Alicia pulled me into her arms and whispered something. I don't remember it. She then shoved me backwards, and I was falling again. I shuddered violently, but I don't know if it was in my mind or my body or both. I was lying in Sirena's arms. Sirena, my alter ego who helps me with chronic pain. She stroked my face and said things, but I don't remember them. She melted away, and I was back in my body, spastic and clenched and shivering and I wanted to lie down.
Adam came back to the car. I put on a mask and acted like everything was normal. I did mention the seizure, but jovially. We drove home. I put my body into task mode. I clenched and unclenched my left fist whenever I could, while I was carrying bags and unpacking bags, in order to ground myself. I was sweating and cold. I still have not lain down. I can't. My body is too spastic. I probably won't remember writing this. I don't remember the long drive very much, and even the stops in Philadelphia are starting to splinter a little.

I'm fine. It was a long drive, and there was stress and tension. It's fine now. The cats are loving me, and my husband is on the other couch playing video games, but I can feel his love from here.

Samhain Oh Ten. Let the harvest flourish and the cider flow. Also, there are pentagrams and pretty stones all over my house. It's all shiny, captain.

Last night, I went to the first Halloween party I've been to in years. I didn't actually know anybody -- I only knew the hostess from LiveJournal. But she and I had become fast friends over the course of a year, as we both suffered from various chronic illnesses and were quickly becoming each other's support system. And she only lived forty minutes away. All I wanted, more than anything right then, was to take her in my arms, hug the breath out of her, and tell her she was beautiful and that everything would be all right.
On Saturday morning, Adam and I slept in a little later than we'd meant to. The first agenda was to head to Charlotte and Billy's for pumpkin carving. We got there shortly after noon, and we were there until almost five. I had originally planned to be at Mandi's by six-thirty, before the party started, so she and I could spent time together one on one. But circumstances pushed that back. It was all good. I knew I'd be giving her those hugs no matter what. Adam and I headed home and readied ourselves. We didn't actually have costumes. We were just exaggerated versions of ourselves: A subtle witch and a sword-carrying cowboy wizard.
We arrived at the party around seven-thirty. We were able to just walk right in, and I immediately fell in love with the layout of the one-story house. It felt fantastically rustic and cozy. We introduced ourselves to people, and were told that Mandi was giving a tour to other guests.
I turned to the left and saw a petite girl in a black wig, short black skirt, low-cut top, thigh-high tights, and high-heeled boots, looking exactly like Shilo Wallace from "Repo! The Genetic Opera" just as she said she would. I grinned and said, "Ahem!" She turned, saw me, and smiled so brightly her face lit up. We rushed to each other and hugged and hugged and I never wanted to let go. I wanted to break down crying right there, because all those things we wrote to each other were swirling in my mind, and it was rather intense. I could almost look her in the eye, and we were both in heels; I liked that. I introduced Adam. Mandi introduced her husband, Toby, who was aptly dressed as Nathan/The Repo Man from "Repo! The Genetic Opera." Adam showed off his trench coat and sword, which prompted Toby to show off his swords and staffs, and things got underway.
In the past, I have never felt truly comfortable and relaxed in a house full of strangers. I have always been shy and anxious and terrified that the wrong things would come out of my mouth. Here, I didn't have to worry. Everyone was my kind of person. Everyone had a fascinating story. Everyone was kind, warm, bubbly, happy, and welcoming. I remember all the faces, even though names began escaping me quickly. Adam stayed near my side to give me confidence and ease, but I didn't need it. I chatted with so many people and laughed so many times I didn't even realize my nerves were soothed.
Close to the end of the night, one of the cats, Ritty, began calling me to play with her. I found myself sitting in the hallway near the master bedroom with Adam and a guy named Jake, playing with Ritty and talking about metaphysics, magic, paranormal encounters, and psychic abilities.
Adam and I left around ten-thirty, since Adam had to work in the morning. We wished we could have stayed longer. It was marvelous. My goodbye hug with Mandi was shorter than I'd wanted it to be. Thank you, Mandi and Toby, for an amazing night. We will be seeing you again.

Also, while working with various tools to carve pumpkins with, Adam stabbed himself in the hand with a nail. His right hand will be hurting for a while. Beyond that, the excitement was minimal.

Also, I am still in a flare. I hid it well all day yesterday, but now I am making the sadface quite a bit. This too shall pass.

Earlier today, I was channel surfing and stopped on an HBO channel that was about to show "Jennifer's Body." I watched the film with no expectations. It felt like a parody of itself. I was intrigued by the demon mythology and how it affected the twist at the end. I came away from the movie feeling that it was unfinished, abrupt, and odd. I also was reminded of a comment someone had made to me online, about how my photos made me "look like Megan Fox." I didn't get it then, I don't get it now. Personally I'd rather look like Sophie Ellis-Bextor.

My eyelashes have grown visibly since I started applying my peptide facial creams to my eyelids and eyelashes. I don't understand why companies want to charge consumers a hundred dollars for a special eyelash growth serum when you can get the exact same effects from any moisturizer that contains peptides, hyaluronic acid, apple extract, MSM, and other particular ingredients. Marketing is weird. Also: I was able to get the new volumizing mascaras from Rimmel, BareMinerals, and Lancome, each at half price, and they actually work. That's lovely.

The weather has impressed me, mainly because I haven't had to touch the thermostat and am happy to know that our next electricity bill will be so much lower.

I'm up, I'm down. Over and over. Eh, that's my life.
I kissed Adam goodbye as he headed to work. He will fly to Texas and come home next Thursday or so.
Luna is in a scampering mood. She is galloping around the house, often stopping to pounce on me and lick me enthusiastically. It must be the hour of scampering.
Hey, my knees don't hurt anymore, that's a start.
Eventually I want to return to Target and buy more of those cotton tee shirts; they are so very comfortable.
I will be writing, exercising, and reading books all day.
Not hurting that much. Good thing.

Sometimes I wake up thinking, "Holy crap, have we really been together for almost eleven years? Have we really been married for over five years? It all feels like yesterday. He's so awesome, I adore him. I feel like a giddy teenager in love for the first time. Oh, wait, he is and was my first love."

I took medication for the migraine, and medication for the back pain, and medication for the asthma attack, and medication for the fatigue, and now the caffeine has kicked in and I finally feel alive. Also, the sun is shining and everything no longer feels gray and weird.

I've been watching cooking shows all day. It would have made sense to eat more than an egg sandwich, but I'm still not hungry.

The season finale of "True Blood" airs tonight. I keep hoping that Alan Ball will stick to Charlaine Harris' books, but I keep seeing him veer farther away, except for the occasional central plot points. I have now realized that "True Blood" is just another version of "The Southern Vampire Mysteries" and I'm all right with that.

Ooh, Nigella Lawson...