just a little slip

I slipped just a little yesterday. Just a bit. It was okay though; barely drew blood or broke skin. I still had my favorite toy stashed away, and it was still what I loved. So quick. So easy. Stung real nice later...

I'm tired, still. Trying to come to grips with the blackness. It has a name again, the docs tell me what they think it is this time around, and based on what I dug up overnight it actually fits. Every one of the signs, symptoms, whatever, I have. And nothing else, and nothing less. And that actually makes me feel a bit better about the fact that they say I'll have this the rest of my life.

How can I do this, periodically, for the rest of my life? Knowing, every time I go down into the pain that it won't really end. It'll just go back to sleep for a bit. Sooner or later I'm going to be facing these endless nights all over again. What kind of life is this going to be when I'm a mother? What kind of life is this going to be for her, if I flake out and lose my marbles? The only path I can see that makes it okay is that right here, right now, I can face up to reality and deal with it. Admit the fact that this Thing exists, and cope with it, and get ready for how I can deal with it for the next twenty or forty years. When my child wakes up and finds me sitting in the sleepless night staring off into my ghosts, I can tell her that it's okay, and I can give her a hug, and I can tell her a story of another time. And maybe this time around it's going to be the mommy putting the child back to bed...

But I'm tired. Very tired. It doesn't end. This is never going to end for good. I just have to deal with it, put the ghosts back to bed, and wait for the dawn