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Connie's husband Jeff has been out of town on business for the past couple of days and so my Mom stayed over at her place last night to help out with the kids. Today, that meant that the entire caravan stopped over here along with my uncle and grandma. I haven't spent so much time with Maddie and Will in a long time. Maddie and I even took a walk partway around the neighborhood, which is probably more of an accomplishment for me than her nowadays. I can't remember the last time I simply walked around. My life seems to consist of no-activity for long periods of time with frenzied periods of action usually involving Gencon or something similar. On your average day the only people I beat in activity level are the comatose.

All in all, I'm still feeling pretty down. It's hard not to give in to despair once you board the emotional death spiral. Every regret just piles upon the next and it's hard to see daylight. I was telling Connie today that my new meds seem to be having a positive effect. I was prescribed Humira, which is another tumor-A blocker medication much like Enbrel, which hasn't done diddily squat for me. The Humira also comes in an auto-injector pen but only needs to be taken once every two weeks and hurts like crazy compared to the Enbrel. I've only had one shot so far but I think it might actually be having a positive effect. It's hard to tell since my symptoms are so cyclical with unexplained up's and down's but medically speaking I've had a good 3-4 day run. It all started just as I hit my emotional tailspin so I was telling Connie that either the Humira is working, I've just hit a good patch, or for some reason anxiety, depression, and despair are some sort of unholy trinity which results in medical cures.

Connie's response was pretty flippant, saying that I had nothing to be depressed about and that she did seeing as she actually has to go back to work next week. It made me think for a bit about just how much I'll never have. A family of my own, a real career, a life. For all intents and purposes, a lot of that is just out of reach despite what some happy-go-lucky jerkface will likely like claim while singing about happy bluebirds and how anything can happen. If you feel any urging at all to tell me that all dreams could still come true, I suggest you quash it because as well-meaning as it is it'll only stoke rage and make me want to punch you in the face. I know what the score is and I gave up on dreams a long time ago.

There's a reason I don't share many thoughts and feelings with my family about the way things are. I know that there's pity and that's sometimes hard enough to take but what I fear is that there is also contempt there. No one ever says anything about it and maybe it's all in my head but it's hard not to see it lurking. Why wouldn't they be contemptuous when I feel it so strongly myself.

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