I don't know what in this world is trying to save me

It's been a while since I've posted here.  I've been busy processing the dual realities that we are no longer treating Jay with the expectation of a cure, and that Jay's social life has come back to life in the brief window between his being recovered from surgery and going back on the reduced chemo.

And I'm still processing.  And I'm still not sure what all I'm feeling.  It's all so complex.

Meeting more of his friends in Seattle brought home to me more than anything else has just what's at stake here.  Why that should be the thing out of all the things that should trigger that realization is beyond me to understand.

I'm sad and tired and yet somehow still joyful day to day, because that's how we'll live the rest of this thing, day to day.  One day can be managed, that particular size of container of life and fear and joy and pain and love can be held and coped with and handled.

But I can tell the stress is getting to me, at least a little bit.  Old nervous habits, long ago abandoned, have cropped back up.  I'm doing that thing I used to do in junior high of fiddling with my hair.  I even displaced that over to fiddling with the tassels on my therapist's couch pillows during one session.  I started laughing when I realized what I was doing, and then had to explain it.

My dreams are long and strange, and I forget the content by the time I wake up.  I can remember the emotional texture of them, but nothing more, as if my brain is trying to protect me from content I shouldn't be aware of.

But there is so much love in my life right now, and I feel so blessed for it, so onward I go.