Posted 9/19/2018 11:36 AM (GMT -7)
I’m just doing the best I can with what’s left of me, years left and tolerance of mind. I really try to keep positive thoughts and go about building something more in my life, even if everything inside of me is telling me I shouldn’t kid myself. Yesterday, I exposed myself to a moldy environment, then spent the rest of the afternoon reeling from an increase in brain fog, inflammation, and suicidal thoughts. Thank God I didn’t have to work, though I probably would have survived.
I don’t really think about those things anymore. When the topic arises, certainly, but that’s a seldom occurrence, which is for better and worse. When I’m in nature, though rare, as the environment here doesn’t really inspire me to get out (now, if I were in Colorado or Washington, maybe), I’m always thinking of where I could pick up ticks. You won’t catch me in tall grass. I dodge tree branches like the Matrix. I tap my feet against the ground and shake my pant legs frequently, even though I know those guys can hang on with might. It’s a psychological thing. You know, maybe there’s one I shook off? Crisis averted. But, apart from that, I don’t find myself dwelling on it as much. There’s nothing I can do.
I wish that things were more relevant to the mainstream audience, but I don’t know how to make that so. I don’t know how to unify people, give them a voice, and go about my daily life. I’m not sure I have the mind for it, I’ve thought about various series on Lyme disease sufferers, but I don’t know how to package it in a way that would be interesting to an outside viewership.
We’re all very divided, and ill, so it’s not much of a option for show of force. There are meetings, or events, but they’re spread far between, and they’re not exactly a daily placement, so the potential impact wouldn’t be consistent.
We have an online presence, but it’s spread from forum to forum, people don’t feel well, they don’t login all the time, as they have other things or just want to curl up in their cocoons, and others kind of just hang out and read things, which is fine. The point is, we’re very quiet, I’d say, and our voice typically doesn’t extend beyond our ears.
How could it? Hello, is anyone out there? A drop in the ocean deep, my words of want or worry. Care not, the people outside. Frown not upon my use of the comma.
It’s hard for us to say much from here.
People need names, faces, and to hear the tremble in your voice as the tears well to really make a connection with you. Though, that’d take a lot of individual initiative and confidence to put themselves out there OR a lot of time and resources for a third party to do it for them.
High-quality, simple and easily consumable, yet strong and emotional messages are what we need.
It’s an epidemic. People need to care, and they probably would, if it got covered how it needs to be covered, but as it stands... it’s mostly just a lot of people talking on the internet, to conferences of a few hundred people that are then uploaded online to go on to get <50k views on YouTube or whatever. What does come up in mainstream media sends a few ripples out, but it’s never the full story, and it never gets a broad audience of people digging for more information.
So, I kind of just... do my own thing and let nature speak for itself, I guess. It’ll get really bad. Will they do something then? I hope so. Do they even care? No, probably not. I mean, someone out there, a big shot at the way-top HAS to know that there are illnesses being mismanaged and they choose to turn a blind eye. It’s obvious people remain sick, despite conventional treatment options, testing, etc.
Who knows when? If? Will the world even exist in the same fashion by then? When I’m 30? 50? Dead?
I can’t sit and stare at gloomy skies until then.
But, trust me, I get it. It’s really hard. I’m doing all I can to not die today. Melodramatic, woe is me. I have my arms, legs, and full function (kind of). I’ve seen amputees, stroke patients, and rare cancers just ruining people’s bodies. It sucks to be where I’m at, but God I can still go outside, breathe the air, knowing tomorrow’s probably not my last day. I can plot on dreams, plan my future out. I can think hopeful of the future, knowing there are victories in store for me, if I just keep working hard. I’m not dead yet.
Just keep throwing everything at it. It’s a headache, but... I’ll take it.
It really does weigh on the mind, though. Not any particular thoughts, just the complex. I’m definitely getting early onset dementia or something, if I don’t make a dramatic improvement within the next few years.
Bleed my heart out to the wolves
In fallen timber, with the skies so hollow
Embers fade and the night grows dark
There is no solace here, ghoulish figures play about the shadows
Their voices barely audible as they whisper to me...
It’s a long night, and I’ve not seen the sun in weeks, this cycle repeating without much variation. The others tell stories of what’s to come. Why, I’ve often wondered? I just don’t know. The world has forsaken us. Cast down here to relive... something.
I don’t know what I’m saying.