My wife isn't writing this.

So, that means I'm still alive. She has consented to report my demise to, hell I dunno to who or whom's, but nonetheless, she'll put something up someplace.

Lots has been happening in my life. That's sort of a, I have good news and I have bad news, to me. I'm in a place mentally that is just, just, just so unfathomable to me in so many ways. It's like this, god only knows now, how many years search for a proper med combo has reached some kind of, of something.

What is so damn strange is, once you became aware you ain't like all the rest, you think you might have a glimmer of what life is like on that side. What it might be like for your lacking. It isn't, I didn't really have that close of an idea of all of the ramifications. It goes much deeper then I had ever thought it might.

In another sense it's like a death. You knew this person, you, for so long, like all of your life and all of a sudden he no longer is there. You begin to wonder and wonder a lot. My god, what have I lost. Is it still there? Am I really still me? Have I gained something? Maybe it's still business as usual? I don't know. Some things definitely feel missing in action.

The scars from being this person for, all my life, are more apparent and deeper than I had ever thought. I didn't expect that. I had an inkling, well a little more than an inkling, but it's deeper. See, when I suggested this rather radical course to take to the head doctor she was reluctant. Ritalin to a someone on the Bipolar Spectrum is tricky. When I was selling the sell to her, I called it right on the nose. What I said might happen, did. Except, the Valium consumption has not decreased as I had thought it would. Quite the contrary it has picked up, still within the norms we had set earlier, but so far not going without it. As a matter of fact, I find myself shaking like a damn leaf in the wind for not much reason, sometimes. I said to her, that's the god damned Complex PTSD, isn't it? And I got the VA cover-up of, no saying PTSD, we say Anxiety Disorder, and she did. However, radical home life change is not helping me getting my bearings and I DO NOT adapt well to change. Old coping skill and I won't go into detail why. Just believe me it was very needed for me to just appear somewhat normal for as long as I could hold out in that form of "being". I'm still sorting out this "new me".

I also won't go into much detail, at least now, on why the home life change, some good and some needs serious work and if it doesn't get fixed, I see bridges being burned in a roaring inferno of god only knows what. I'm still really good at that one, I have no doubt.

So, I'm alive in some form or fashion, of who I don't really know yet and may never. As proof of my non demise, a recent photo. Although I'm still sure there are a few that will find this a rather disheartening lack of my death, on my part, hard to take, tough shit. They can pretend I'm really dead in the picture, because my eyes are closed. And if I think you are hoping for my death, I am, and I'll be by shortly to give you a long visit. Leave a light on.

Now I have no idea why the hell she (The Wife) enjoys taking pictures of me sleeping, but she does. She says it's the only time I hold still, which is a lie. I don't like my picture taken is all. Actually I couldn't be on the computer as I had a wicked burn of carpal tunnel going on in my right arm. Now, notice where it is. That's the stress. It's how I usually sleep. With a hand firmly planted in the middle of my head.

And yes, there is always an animal sleeping with me, if not more than one, and his name is Henry. If you look closely in the background you'll see Ike hogging the couch. He would too, but he doesn't fit.