Look, I know y'all mean well.

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

Well, not, all of y'all; my stalker quite definitely means ill, even if we're not talking physical violence here. [Yes, I see you reading this. Eff off. Again. Take the hacker assholes with you, mmkay?]

And don't worry about me doing anything . . . irreversible. The chance of that (and it was a good one) was a few years ago, and no one knew, much less cared, at the time. That is done; it is not a concern. And as I said here last week, Wings is taking good care of me right now.

If folks actually read what I've written over the past several days, the ones who know me will surely be able to put together the outlines. I have reasons for keeping it oblique, but it's all there for anyone who's paying attention.

I also have reasons for writing out (and therefore riding out) the grief and guilt and pain of multiple varieties that I am being forced by circumstance to relive right now. My depression is utterly unresponsive to any conventional therapy (and so please don't go suggesting whatever it is you think I simply must try, because I already have, and it doesn't work). It's a combination of genetics and a known side effect of chronic physical illness and situational stuff and the PTSD hangover that comes of being born into a lifetime of abuse of multiple kinds. It is what it is. I have had a lifetime to figure how, if not to fix it, at least to ride the inverse wave without getting fatally sucked into the undertow. You need to trust that I am intelligent enough, and self-aware enough, to know better than anyone else what I need. If you can't, then there are unfollow and unfriend and unread options available to you.

I have said over the last week or two that the only "conversation" I am equipped to handle right now is that related to Wings's art, the gallery, and orders. That remains true. It takes everything out of me just to be able to deal with the essentials. I do not need the migraines that result from weeping, and the first kind word sets off the waterworks. So . . . no engagement online that's not business-related until I feel up to it. I know a lot of people don't like that, and a lot of people think that I'm wrong and they know better, but here's the deal: I know best what's best for me. Period.

Yes, I'm engaging elsewhere on a less interpersonal level. Strangers are not going to ask me if I'm okay, and thereby set off a flood of unwanted tears. It keeps my brain active and occupied and doesn't threaten to try to force me to talk about subjects that are not healthy for me to revisit outside the boundaries I place on them right now. There will be more posts here, as I write this out of my system. Feel free to ignore them all; I'm not bothering with trigger warnings or anything else, because this is my way of getting through a very difficult period. I'm not putting it out there for anyone else. Also, feel free to read if you want and you feel up to it. But I'll most likely close comments on most such posts, because they are indeed not for anyone else, and outside commentary is generally not helpful. 

These are the ground rules for now. I'm too old, and long since past, any need to justify what gets me through the day. I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't ingest other chemical substances, I don't hurt people under some false guise of grief (as has been done to me repeatedly by others over the last year and more). This is how I deal, it is what it is, and I need people to respect that.

I'm leaving comments open on this post for one purpose and one purpose ONLY: If you know what that flower is in the photo, you can leave it in a comment. It bloomed Saturday morning, our first non-wildflower of the year, and yet, neither of us planted it. It just appeared in the planter when the snow melted, and it bloomed four days ago. Brought on the winds, as far as we can tell. I'm looking at it as my sign that I'll be out of the trough before summer.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.