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One of the toughest parts of breaking up is accepting that you won’t be able to talk about some of these memories anymore. Especially health related ones. Like I could tell him anything. ANYTHING. And he’d get it. Because he’s been in the hospital and he was with me the whole time I was there. Whenever I’d let him be. I’ve been weirdly fixated on the female urinal from the hospital lately, and if he were in bed next to me, I could just be like, “ugh I hate that I have to get up. Makes me almost miss the female urinal.” And then the thought would be mostly processed because I talk to process things. But instead, all those little thoughts I used to easily dispel because talking to him was so easy are just building up. I think that’s why I’m back on tumblr. I’ve had someone who would listen for so long, but now I need another way to tell people because there’s no one here who would get it. I have new chronic illness friends, but I don’t have a way to write them like this. Here, it feels like a diary, but it still has that public quality I need.

For the record, I still exist y’all. I was incredibly sick. And then remarkably healthy. And now I’m pretty sick again, but not nearly as bad. I got to sit down and drink some tea tonight. Actually ate some food. I’m cast in a play, so I’ve been doing that - but rehearsals are difficult because of the whole being sick thing. I have an understudy in case I have to bail. I also started going to therapy. Currently on a weekly basis. Also constantly going to my hem/onc and waiting for results on if this is c-diff or my ulcerative colitis. Idk. Everything probably evens back out at zero right now. Maybe at -1. It ain’t great. But I ain’t dead.