The Moment I Let Go Was The Moment I Got More Than I Could Handle

I was lying in my bed listening to the rain. I wasn't really asleep or awake; just sort of drifting in that warm introspective place that I seem to go more and more often, aware only of the pattering of rain against the roof just a few feet overhead and the vague rippling of the curtains around the bed. I wasn't feeling much of anything, to be honest with you. Just telling myself a story.
Then I heard a glass-on-glass chink! sound. That's the sound HB's phone makes when he gets a text or an alert or whatever the hell you kids get these days.
He must have forgotten his phone today I thought, and ignored it. I figured, it's like a microwave, right? Beeps once and it's done. I'm certainly not gonna read his text messages. I rolled over and tried to get comfortable again. I had been deep in this... well, not a real dream, more like a daydream. Writing a novel in my head about places and people that never were.
Chink! went the phone again. And a minute or so later, chink! again. So much for the convenience of modern inventions, huh?
So I rolled over again and pawed across the nightstand - even in the middle of the day my bedroom's so dark it might as well be underground - and found the small cold rectangle. When I picked it up it was flashing an italicized i on the front screen, but none of the buttons seemed to turn it off. So I flipped it open.
There was my blog, already up and fully displayed. Top of the page, a post from HB to me. This is the sort of thing I didn't count on when I gave him my password, y'know?
So. What to say. Sorry everybody if I came off a little dramatic. I actually hate it when bloggers threaten to quit blogging, and it never occurred to me that I was doing it. I just sat down and let it all pour out my fingers the way I always do: one effort, no edits, just what's in my head. The words just seem to well up somewhere just below the level of conscious thought. So, again I'm sorry. Mea culpa. My bad.
Thing is, I'm sort of hurting right now. Not just physically, although there certainly is that. I told the local sawbones that I didn't need to go to Cleveland, didn't need a biopsy, and still had to go there and get a big old kick in the nuts. I don't wanna go into everything the doctor there said, but he basically chewed me right out. You know the drill: my situation is serious but I don't seem to be, I'm a noncompliant patient, he knows a lot of really sick people who would do anything to get better and I should probably think about that. Blah blah blah, yada yada yada. Like everybody else, I think I know what's best for me. I don't kid myself that what's best for me is best for everybody, but I do feel like I still have a semi-firm grip on what I've got and what I want and exactly where I can go from here. I was going to say that nobody but me can walk the road in front of me... but that's not true. HB is walking it with me, and I'm trying for that very reason to choose each and every step carefully, or at least as carefully as I can within the constraints of my situation and resources - a pretty important clarification.
Yes, I take pills. I get high. Not just because it physically hurts or because I'm nauseous, either. If I didn't, I'd spend a whole lot of time brooding over things I can't change and dragging myself down, and I don't see where either one of those is going to help. Maybe that sounds like a justification. Maybe it is. I think I'd rather by a long sight be making a longterm home and life with HB. I dream about getting at least partial custody of my kids. Somewhere in the mental file I've created of things that are mostly wishful thinking, I've tucked away the idea of the two of us adopting or having by surrogate a kid of our own. If I really thought either of those things could happen I'd be moving heaven and earth in that direction right now. But I don't think that those things are going to happen. I think instead that the disability thing still won't come together in time for me, and I'll end up in a hospital or jail right up until the end. I don't want to think things like that... but if I had to bet that's where I'd put my money. If I had any, that is.
So, anyway, don't worry about me ending this blog anytime soon. I need this outlet, and even though HB's become so entwined it doesn't seem to keep me from just digitally blurting out what's simmering in that place just below conscious thought. I always wanted to be an author, and I guess this blog is just about as close as I'll get. Knowing that you all care to read what's written here makes that more than good enough.
So instead of closing with another apology, I'll just say 'thank you.' Thank you all for listening to my voice wailing in the internet limbo. Thank you for looking through this window into my life. Thank you for not wanting it to close.
I'll be in touch.

Title lyric from "Thank You" by Alanis Morissette.