I’ve been gone a while. It’s a little overwhelming to think about coming back to this space and just talking about one concise topic when life is so much more complex than a little blog post.

There’ve been a lot of personal changes recently, but they’re the kind that will take a long time to start helping – and the reason I need help is the biggest reason I haven’t been writing.

Over the course of the past two years, Rheumatoid Arthritis has gradually shrunk my world into a cramped box of pain and fatigue. During the same period of time, I’ve gone through most of the antidepressants known to humankind with only temporary relief. This cycle of physical and mental pain and some dumb medications (one that worked, one that didn’t) caused a lot of weight gain recently. The pain and fatigue from RA made it almost impossible to exercise, something that’s usually one of my coping mechanisms. We won’t talk about the comfort eating because baby, if life is bleak, there’s nothing like some cookie dough to makes things a little better.

In the meantime, none of my clothes or costumes fit. I put so much effort into sewing and curating my clothes only to create piles of stuff that no longer work for my body. I don’t know whether to scrap everything and start fresh, make a few things for the interim (Is this an interim?), or wear what I can and hope that I’ll get back to where I was. Even my sweatpants don’t fit anymore.

This month, I started a new medication for RA, and TMS for the depression. Both could take a couple of months to know if they’re going to help. So after a dark fall and winter, I’m looking forward to the possibility of a dark spring and summer as well, until these new therapies either kick in, or they don’t.

All this is incredibly discouraging. I won’t lie, I’ve been crying kind of a lot, and I’m not a crier. Everything I’ve heard and read has told me that I’m in the prime of my life, but that is NOT how this feels. Despite trying my hardest to get help, relief has been slow in coming.

I want to tell you more about books I’ve been reading, and projects I’ve been working on, but the words have been getting stuck before I can type them out. I had my first  appointment today with a new therapist, and I couldn’t begin to articulate all that is bogging me down right now.

I’m hopeful I’ll get answers at some point. I’m hoping that if an answer doesn’t exist now, it will be invented soon. Plus, the idea is that as you get older, your panties slowly untwist and things don’t get to you as much, and I look forward to that. If everything sucks but I don’t mind, that would make things easier.

In the meantime, I’m napping for two hours in the afternoon most days, in addition to a full night’s sleep. On my good days, I tend to overdo it to compensate for the many more days where I accomplish the bare minimum. I have some precious friends who are keeping my buoy afloat, and a good TV show to look forward to in the evening. The Chaplain is doing everything he can, and the kids are super understanding.

So what is the point of all this? I don’t know. I’m alive. My fam seems to be OK. I keep finding good books to read, which is wonderful because you don’t have to move to read a book – although even holding one hurts my hands. If I think about that too much, I’ll just cry. Again.

I wish this weren’t such a downer, but this is where I am. There are good things coming, I know that. They just aren’t here yet.