Man that migraine yesterday got me thinking about my own paths of thought and getting control again of those directions and reflections. I've realized my brain has had the three strokes, and those were just the ones I know about--obviously there might be other tiny spots of black sprinkled in there. I almost convinced myself I could think myself out of a cerebral hemorrhage if I had to do it. I figure each one might correspond with a time forgotten or memory sacrificed to time, but I think this is all one of the after affects of the gene issue. Clearly if I don't have the infrastructure to support clear thought and clean pathways to remember it all, then I am not going to remember much but some superficial highlights of memories, some might be real, some parts maybe dreamt. The biggest aspects and affects I can remember, but even faces and names at this point are a blur. So many friends, so many faces, jobs and experiences in this life. So many of these outcomes from my own desire not to sit around doing the same shit day in and day out. So many times I made ...
Sometimes shit gets out of hand, and sometimes you have no goddamn hope. It's the way it is sometimes in this life and I am no stranger to the highs and lows. Certainly not everything has been shit, though outcomes sometimes tend to be, but I fucking try every day and I have been busting my ass for weeks working 6 days since he left that company. He found another job, in a different state, and I can't tell you I am excited for that, as we are certainly in no position to move. So he will be gone and I will be alone, hiding out as I tend to do, and thinking since my check is basically 2/3 what is was with 25% gross taken out, there will be no extras. Not for some time until he gets paid. He is working on something so fucking amazing for our lives I cannot complain, and I wouldn't anyways, because there is a lot to complain about outside of what work he does and where. The situation lends that solution because where he is working will be paying it forward for us, one can only hope. Like instantly being ...
Man. Life is a mean motherfucker for sure. I am contemplating if killing myself now or later would be the better option. I certainly won't survive menopause and if I do, likely with brain damage. The strokes, the strokes. The fact that I am somewhat brain fuzzy on shit already kind of leads us all to believe I am in the last throes of my life. Don says 3 years, and no, he is not overly negative or some heavy head influence putting me in the ground faster. It's reality, and yes, I certainly am going to run out of this stellar luck I have been able to escape death avoiding. At some point, it just will.
So yes. I have been selling and selling and trying my best to make something. He is trying to find work and I have been doing all the overtime I can--working 6 days a week for the past number. To start all this and then get fucking wage garnished for medical bills. I just saw the letter yesterday. My last net check was $1000. They have somehow configured to take out $374.60 something bi-weekly. How would you be able to afford living ...
