So, rheumatoid arthritis it is. I was really depressed over it the day I was told--like I said, I knew it was coming, but hearing it made it much too real. It felt so strange sitting at the Dr's office and listening to him talk about dealing with this not for a month or two or for a year or two, but for a decade or two. I spent the rest of the day moping around the house and then met up with CJ, who did a good job of cheering me up. So, that's that; I was given some medication and am supposed to go back in a couple of weeks to talk about more long-term treatment.

As is always the case when I don't want something to be real, I put getting the medication off for five days and was in a lot of pain and discomfort, which was, of course, just fine by me. I don't know whether I take pleasure in making myself feel like shit or simply don't care. Whatever it was, after a few days of feeling sorry for myself, I finally went and got it, motivated in no small way by people asking whether it was helping and RF getting quite annoyed at me after realizing I still hadn't gotten my prescription filled. I was able to bend my knees without much pain last night, and this morning I tripped all over myself hopping down CJ's stairs.

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I feel like I'm running out of things to talk to my therapist about, not because suddenly everything's good, but because I don't feel so confused about everything. Like everything else in my life though, I can't just leave this alone; I wonder if this is a temporary high brought on by not being in so much pain and having CJ around, and if it isn't, how will I fill my days without being always confused and in pain and making plans to kill myself? What happens if all I was was my problems, what happens if I'm but a brittle and empty shell without them?

What happens if, all of a sudden, I'm happy?