The Return To Innocence

Sleep last night was interesting and bizarre. A lot of acquaintances - and a few friends - have claimed that insomnia must involve only being unable to fall asleep or only being unable to stay asleep. I've got a form where I can do both perfectly well, but at the price of chronic pain physically, which also transcends my dreams which really should not be allowed to happen, and neurologically, which is not only a thing but which keeps parts of me both awake and asleep. Therefore, it takes too long to reach Stage 3 NREM, and Stage 4 NREM either is cut off or doesn't happen. REM itself usually happens at a time much later in sleep. Essentially, unless I set extreme alarm clocks, I will sleep for twelve hours easily and REM will happen in those last three hours.

This time, I had slept on and off throughout the afternoon in thirty minute bursts, which probably helped me get a more normal ten hours while still being woken by pain. But this time, my dreams were deep and amazing. Since I had finally just finished reading "The Winter Long" by Seanan McGuire - now my favorite Seanan book - the concept of Faerie in a Toby Daye meets Lost Girl style story exploded, and there was even a blog announcement by Seanan that the October Daye series would become a television series. For fuck's sake, there was a character embodying both Tybalt and Dyson. And then somehow I became the protagonist, as often happens, and my husband and I struggled to release a literally faceless mermaid into the ocean before she destroyed the land. There were tentacles and it was gross. But wow, lots of powers. Many, many powers. I always get powers in dreams, usually psionic, some form of psychokinesis, normally elemental. I still recall the dreams I had as a teenager where I was pyrokinetic enough to set a tree on fire just by waving my hand at it from the window of a room.

I am especially determined to wake up after nine or ten hours to dial back whatever toll the oversleeping is taking. Then, slowly, eight hours, just to see if I can handle that "average" 7 to 8 thing that normal people talk about.
Adam somehow gets by on less than 7 per night, sometimes 4 when he's out of state working 18-hour days as an IT/AV trade show technician and manager (he loves talking about his job, and it is fascinating work, since he gets to gain secret access to some of the most powerful places in the country and listen to some extraordinary science and medical research breakthroughs during conventions; even just setting up hotel rooms full of projectors, printers, computers, and video screens means being the on site technician when powerful things happen behind closed doors. There is also fixing stupid mistakes, frozen computers, and hours and hours of human error, but more hours means more pay, and he can carry entire printers up flights of stairs).

Also, I think making myself wake up earlier than what fibromyalgia wants will keep other things stable, aside from the obvious. Since going on Zanaflex, most of my systems affected by fibromyalgia have mildly stabilized, which is amusing, since Zanaflex is just a muscle relaxer. People in various support groups kept trying to insist that it shouldn't be happening and that Zanaflex is bad for me. They are so cute when they're trying to be the arbiters of other people's realities, especially regarding brain chemistry!

I'll see my awesome husband tomorrow night, or Thursday, when he returns from another work trip up and down the Northeast.

http://science.howstuffworks.com/life/inside-the-mind/human-brain/dream6.htm
I really must try dream incubation. With everything. Dream All The Things. I've used two phone apps so far to record my sleep, and one of them quit. No, really. The other one just became boring.

Well, when people ask me how I manage being married to someone whose work involves constant traveling around the country and occasionally to other countries for many days at a time, I apply a quote from Captain Awkward:

"...day to day during their separations the most they ever had to go on was “If we both survive this, I promise to try really hard to still love you” because that’s all anyone has ever had to go on."

This quote was applied to her grandparents while her grandfather was in the military and this far more intense than working across the country for two weeks. However, it applies to many, many things. It applies to couples of any status going through, well, anything.

Actually, my ultimate favorite was always from "The Princess Bride" (both book and film). You know, the scene in which Westley wanted to first make money across the sea so he could marry Buttercup properly: "Hear this now: I will always come for you." And much later, upon meeting with Buttercup after his supposed death and her arranged marriage: "Death cannot stop true love. What it can do is delay it for a while."

Years ago, my husband wrote, in soap, on the bedroom mirror "I will always come for you" and drew a long-stemmed rose alongside. It will be there until the mirror goes away.

That's the core. That's the cornerstone. "I will always come for you." He will always come back to me. When he was working outside the country for two straight weeks, when it was too expensive to call, he would arrange video chats via cell phone, preceded by a quick text; luckily we were in the same time zone this time. Even if we can't communicate for a while, we know we will be reunited soon enough.

The result is good money for bills and food and necessities and small luxuries, and his travel is worth that. Since I am disabled and literally, officially unable to work by government standards, earning a bit of Social Security Disability Insurance monthly, it is up to him to make the bulk of the payments - and we are unbelievably lucky and grateful to have a tiny mortgage and small bills and are surrounded by nearly a dozen varied food markets, shops, and stores that I, unable to drive, can access by public transport. We make sure to stock up on things I and our three cats will need for however long he will be out of the state. I am lucky that my disabilities don't hinder me from getting around, doing some light shopping, cleaning the house poorly, etc. I'm very introverted and very good at being my own company while he's gone.

We are aware of the privileges we have and don't have with this life, and that is important. It's very easy to say, "It could be worse..." but it's an overused phrase for me. We have our problems and issues and near-misses (traveling as an IT/AV technician sometimes means getting injured, getting damaged, or just missing a fatal injury; arguments happen all the time and are quickly resolved because we hate fighting; no doctor appointments set until we know when he has time, etc). We do everything every other couple does, just often at a distance.

And you know, we started out at the very end of the 20th century. All we had were house phones, simple emails, simple instant messaging. We didn't get cell phones until we were already living together. Social media was barely more than blog posts and message forums. We've been doing this for so long that we're experts and pros. And yet... I still really don't know what to tell people. Because I can only explain what works for the two of us, which might not work for others.

I will admit that I do still roll my eyes when someone cries because their partner will be away for "a day or two" - particularly if it seems dramatic. I absolutely bite my tongue and resist that urge to play the Suffering Olympics, because I'm a jerk like everyone else and I'll be judgmental. But I will sympathize and empathize deeply enough to care about their concerns. Because you don't know what will happen.

And so, to the people I forgot to respond to in the first place, here is your answer: I still don't know how I make this work. It's a long distance marriage born out of a long distance relationship. It works because we were friends and will always be friends. It works because I am amenable and casual and I like being alone and he likes traveling and his work and adventuring, and we love each other and we like each other so much that we just... know. You just know. You know? I guess?

I'm sorry that got so vague and incoherent near the end, but I cannot explain it much better. It's a thing you have to work out and work at. You have to know, feel, and understand yourself and your partner; you have to completely commit to knowing that plans will change constantly and you will be sleeping alone for a week. You have to want this life. I think a huge part of it might be never taking the relationship for granted. Not the love, not the like, not the good days, not the bad days. And I mean, really meaning it. Also, saying "I love you" as much as possible always helps.

Ahh, having connections in the Hamptons. :-D
My mother's dear friend, Toni, has been one of her art models for years. Toni owns a salon in Montauk town. I spoke with Toni today. She is willing to give me completely free services because she has known me for most of my life and she adores me.
So, later this afternoon, Toni will pick me up, take me to the salon, color and style my hair and give me some other relaxing services for free, and drive me back in time for dinner with Adam.

This evening, Adam and I shall start packing everything we don't need for tomorrow, since Adam's job won't end until Friday afternoon. Mom and Dad will come pick me up and take me to their house. Adam will meet us after his job is done. We will all have a quick dinner, and linger over teary farewells until Thanksgiving. Then, Adam and I will start driving. We will arrive in Gaithersburg after midnight, probably around two in the morning. So, Saturday. My house and cats are fine thanks to Charlotte and her loving care.

All I know is that I have been so beautifully, wonderfully, awesomely relaxed. Yes, I have had chronic pain, fatigue, and various attacks of insert medical condition. But I have been able to push through the symptoms, ignore them just enough to feel as happy as possible, and enjoy everything the Hamptons could offer me during my quick stay.
So, I am quite happy. Because awesome.

Adam came home tonight from his long job at the Gaylord Opryland Hotel in Nashville, a hotel the size of a city. He had clocked in at something like one hundred fifty hours in two weeks. He had better get some time off.

A few friends have often asked me what the Welcome Home Sex is like. To quote myself from earlier tonight: "Oh, Mighty Aphrodite, I think we smashed through the G spot and the A spot and rammed the Q spot at light speed. I need a few minutes before I can move. I need to put my brain back together. My Higher Brain exploded a little."

Dinner was baked salmon and purple rice, dessert was a Krispy Kreme doughnut or two, and after that I showed Adam the most recent Futurama episode, "Near Death Wish" - which was heartwarming, heartwrenching, beautifully sweet, and deserving of an Emmy nomination.

Tomorrow will involve running errands together. Yay!

I feel so shiny right now. Maybe all the meditation is getting to my brain. La. I amuse myself.
http://www.mnwelldir.org/docs/qigong/meditation.htm

The current short story I'm working on is going in fascinating directions, and I love it, but I'm having trouble reining it in. I find myself exploring the deep relationship between the main character and her girlfriend too much, and not focusing on the interdimensional travel, the aliens, the monsters, the superpowers, the multiverse concept, the ramifications of constant interdimensional travel via telekinesis (in conclusion, chronic migraines and nosebleeds suck).
I mean, I love that my girls love each other so much, but this is not a romance story. The handful of sex scenes are not those kinds of scenes. And the ex-boyfriend of one character keeps popping up and my writerbrain keeps wanting me to point out that they dated, but I'd already established that in the beginning, and seriously why is that monster hanging out over there? I thought I'd shoved it back into its home dimension.
I really need to finish this if I'm going to self-publish it online. And then I have to figure out how exactly I'm even going to do that. More meditation is in order.

I've mentioned how ecstatic I am to have my husband home yes? He has demanded the weekend and Monday off, and he rarely states that he is unavailable. He's probably the most in demand and loyal tech there, being a de facto project manager and head field tech and having skills that most of the other guys don't. I imagine that on Tuesday or Wednesday he'll be asked to pack up and go to another part of the country again for the rest of the week, to set up computers and equipment for more conferences or trade shows or live shows or things involving foreign dignitaries or what have you. Who knows. But for the next few days, he is MINE, rar.

My hair is still awesome. My skin still looks like I'm twenty. I'm still in tremendous pain, fatigue, and muscle tension, but whatever. Life is sweet. For now.

Here are some pictures of Adam with Luna. Luna loves him more than life and here she is hugging him for sweet life.

My neurologist is hilarious.
I was about twenty minutes early, and she came in and saw me and was so excited that I'd arrived early. I was like, well, yeah, I always try to be early. But we hadn't seen each other in almost a year, and we hugged, and she was thrilled to see me, and we chatted about my conditions and my medications, and she said everything seemed fine... except, of course, for the part where I have weekly seizures. She was pleased that they were not the tonic clonic kind, unless I am furiously stressed or badly excited, which doesn't happen often. We decided to increase the Trileptal once my current bottle is empty. Instead of taking two 300 mg round pills in the morning and one 300 mg round pill at night, I will be taking one 600 mg oblong pill in the morning and another 600 mg oblong pill at night. It was so sweet - she kept stressing that I must only take one pill in the morning and one at night, only. We laughed, because many of her patients have made such mistakes and I knew I would be fine.
I told her about my disability hearing in July and she wished me all the luck in the world. She was pleased at the effectiveness of the Klonopin, and also fascinated and highly pleased that the Zoloft was treating my OCD. She was happy about all mt supplements, and really nothing had changed except I was still having stress-induced seizures, which called for either a higher dose of Trileptal or an additional medication. However, since I said the Klonopin was working so well, she would leave that as the additional. Good. It was just... happy. A good, good visit. She hugged me goodbye and took my hands and smiled right at me and told me she'd see me again next year, unless something serious happened. I told her I would call her in July if I got approved.

Charlotte and I then drove to the Walgreens nearby, which I reveled in, seeing as how I have no Walgreens near me, and Walgreens has stuff that CVS doesn't, and also I had a coupon. Then it was off to Whole Foods after a message from Adam. I bought a loaf of Black Russian bread (it has coffee in it!) and a block of Monocacy Silver creamy goat cheese, and sushi (salmon avocado and spicy tuna avocado), and various Bai juices with coffee fruit extract.
Charlotte drove us back to my house, where Adam was resting from his latest over-24-hour work day. We get to spend Saturday together, and then Adam is off to New York for a few days. The hours are hard but the pay is okay and it could be a lot worse.

Eventually, possibly Sunday, Charlotte will come over and we will marathon My Little Pony on Netflix. I am amazed at how many adults love this show and the toys. It really does call to the childhood nostalgia of almost everybody.

In conclusion, here is a photo of my extremely soft and lovingly cuddly cat, Luna.
In our house, the statement "We love the Luna" is almost like a ritual chant. I love my Luna. Luna loves us. Luna is queen. Luna is the prettiest cat ever. Luna will always have treats and gooshyfood. We love the Luna.

So, I've been having this recurring dream about MLP: FIM, and part of me is starting to believe it's an unaired episode (this happened in high school with Gargoyles too). In the dream, Fluttershy is reluctantly training with Rainbow Dash, and something happens, and Fluttershy gets critically injured, falls into a coma for most of the episode, gets transferred to a hospital in Canterlot, and Rainbow Dash becomes so upset, anxious, guilty, and freaked out that a running gag involves Pinkie Pie offering her sedatives that work for a few minutes before Rainbow Dash becomes high-strung again. Eventually, Princess Celestia steps in, calls Twilight Sparkle to the hospital, and teaches Rainbow Dash about being calm and patient while teaching Twilight Sparkle some healing magic, and when Fluttershy recovers, Rainbow Dash is far less egocentric and boastful, and Fluttershy is less timid and shy. Also, Spike volunteers to watch Fluttershy's menagerie while everyone is in Canterlot, which leads to hilarious results, and Angel the bunny finally becomes sympathetic because Fluttershy is gone for weeks and is deeply missed.
I'm sure this dream says something about me, but I'm not a good dream interpreter.

Also, Fluttershy is totally a Fainting Goat. Just like me. Except my Goatness comes from epilepsy and social phobia.

In actual life: Adam should be home from New Jersey some time today or possibly tomorrow. He's been there for a week, working at least ten hours a day, so the paychecks should be great. Oh... wait, no, he has to fly to Chicago tomorrow. He should be home very early on Sunday, like two in the morning. At least he'll get a day or two off after that.
Next week, I have an appointment with my psychotherapist, and at the beginning of May I have an appointment to renew my MetroAccess account. Then there's July. Oh, hells and deities, July is the big one. My SSDI court date is in July. I am freaking out.

Today, I took a Soma after a spastic hypertonic episode with hemiparesis, plus my right knee has been screaming like Pinkie Pie predicting Cerberus. Also, I probably should eat something besides yogurt.

Time for more writing.

Speaking of writing, here's a post about fanfiction and how some authors feel (not happy). Most of the comments here proudly defend fanfiction.
http://ohnotheydidnt.livejournal.com/68332629.html
From the fourth page of comments:
"Oh, bugger off. Authors who outright abhor it really irritate me. Be flattered that your characters and world have inspired people to create new stories for them. Fan fiction does not impede on any of their ability to make a living, and proper fan fiction writers know to always direct people to the original work or at least reference it. If someone does try to publish and make a living out of it, go ahead, go nuts and sue their asses. Otherwise, I don't see why you would care."
And from page six:
"I like how characters were treated in Ancient Greece. They were gods, celebrities, and had different stories depending on who was writing the plays. Everything was fanfic, and everything was awesome."
And from page eight:
"Frankly, I get that writers are wary of fanfic; characters are like your children and when other people put their hands on them and make them do things you are not comfortable with, that would be distressing. However, I would think I would just be satisfied by 1) the money and 2) the fact that only the events I write are canon and nothing some 13 year old with Microsoft Word writes can change that (and I say this as someone that gets all Death of the Author all the time). Plus, with or without fanfic people would have their own interpretation of characters anyway; that just life."

This is one of the reasons why I refuse to read a YA author named Cassandra Clare, who wrote Harry Potter fanfiction and plagiarized entire passages from published works, then somehow got an agent and published her fanfiction with altered names and passed everything off as completely original. Apparently when she was just writing fanfiction, she also conned her online fans into buying her stuff. I just cannot be having with any of that. I remember reading the first chapter of her first published book and actually wrinkling my nose, which is the other reason; her writing is awful. A great deal of fanfiction is awful and ugly, but a great deal of fanfiction is amazing and thought-provoking.
Moral: Fanfiction can absolutely help you find your voice and your wings, but seriously try to be original if you're going to try and get your work published.

Things are happening.
Other Things are starting to happen.
It is all extremely abrupt, most of it slightly upsetting but essentially fixable. I may be in a mental limbo for a few weeks. Klonopin might become my friend more than occasionally, which will be discussed with my doctors. Anxiety disorders kick you in the head like that.

I've been watching a forum post where one online friend has been tearing another online friend apart for a basic misunderstanding, and while I am on one side only, I am slowly realizing that when it comes to online fights, it's not worth it to keep going, to settle feuds. Just walk away. Let the grown-up children who live in fantasies have their anger, their obsessions, their beliefs that they are unable to stand up for themselves.

Adam has left for a week-long job in Las Vegas. Things may be happening at his company, but he is already putting his resume out just in case Things fall through. No matter what, I know we will be fine. But. You know. Crazy anxiety panicky brain is crazy anxious panicked. Good Things: Having my Luna and my Rose and my Jupiter, who are snuggly and loving all the time.

Recently, I have found a huge sense of strength and relief in chatting via Facebook with Mandi, who I've known for years through LJ, who I got to meet in person in 2010. She's one of my dearest friends, she understands everything right down to the pain and the crippling mental issues and the lack of energy and everything, all of it. She's one of those friends who I want to just wrap in my arms and not let go until I have somehow healed every pain inside her. Mandi, if you're reading this, I love you and thank you.

Eventually I will go socialize with people and go out. Or something. Not in such a mood today. How funny that I'd rather be faceless online right now.

My body and I are not happy with each other, not at all. All my systems feel skewed. Despite having almost no appetite, I feel heavy and bloated and at war with my uterus. Menses start next week. By gods, I want to be sterilized. My neuromuscular disorders are playing tag with my musculoskeletal disorders. My lumbar pain is riding a roller coaster and having too much fun and I want to scream at it. Tension is thundering across both my shoulders and my entire neck. My head is pounding from all sides, including my face. My knees are being stabbed by lightning. My hands and wrists ache like mad. My digestive system has been angry at me all day. I am actually surprised I haven't had any seizure warnings.

The good news is that Adam has had several days off after many long days of long work. We ran errands together, we snuggled the cats together, we played video games together, we discussed quantum physics together. He has started painting again, using his neo-impressionist minimalism style that he did back when we were dating. December is considered the slowest month for his company, which does IT/AV rentals for trade shows, meetings, seminars, conferences, schools, and convention. Adam, being a project manager and field technician, is normally sent all over the country for days at a time. I am honestly still not used to having him home for a full week, but I am still overjoyed. The cats are also fascinated and overjoyed. He has had all three lying on him several nights in a row.

The cats, meanwhile, are being themselves, whether draping themselves across our laps, melting into couches, or singing for attention. Also demanding hugs.

Also, my hair has already grown an inch since my mother trimmed off two inches the day after Thanksgiving. Thank you, biotin pills and bamboo pills and sea buckthorn shampoo.

Oh, fuck, my head.
(That sentence would be a lot funnier and weirder without commas. Commas are your friends. Especially the serial/Oxford comma. It prevents grammatical disasters such as "The ballerinas, Axl Rose and Slash.")

But yeah. The migraine started in the middle of the night, around 1:30 or so, and naturally in my half-awake state I thought I was having a mild stroke, because such a specific part of my head was hurting, and I made myself stay away for half an hour, holding Adam's hand and wishing he didn't have to go to the airport at 5:00 AM to go to San Francisco for work for a week. (He is now safely in San Fransisco.) I forced myself back to sleep, woke up with Adam at 4:44 AM, kissed him goodbye, then collapsed back to sleep and woke up around 11:30. I took the strongest pain medication I had. Now, six hours later, I will be taking a second dose. This is stupid. Fuck you, migraine, I don't want this.
Also, the cerebral palsy spasticity/hypertonia/hemiplega has made me its bitch. Gods fucking damn it. More yoga style stretching, which will hurt until it feels better because pain is crazy weird like that. Thank you, fibromyalgia.

Also, last night, our female flowerhorn parrot cichlid fish died after a long illness affecting her swim bladder and eyes. Adam took out back to the tree line. We were sad. At least we have the male flowerhorn, along with the severum, the silver dollars, the tetra, and the catfish. They're all shiny and bright, just not as pretty as the female flowerhorn. Ah, well. That's what happens when you own fish.

I can't remember how to properly stretch my neck when I have a migraine. I'm going to look that up after things stop spinning/throbbing a little.