2023 was one hell of a year. It was good, and it was really hard. I started the year with long Covid hanging on, but by May/June it subsided and I've been able to eventually get back to 30 minutes of cardio on the bike. I do seem to still need more sleep than I did pre-Covid, but maybe that's just part of getting older. Our nephew had gender-affirming surgery in March, and he's just flourishing now, which is a joy to see.

We started meeting with a fiduciary to get our financial shit in order, which sent me into such an anxiety spiral that I needed emergency sessions (plural) with my therapist (what the fuck, I didn't know this was a landmine for me). But we persevered, and our shit is mostly in order and we even bought our new car outright instead of financing it.

My mom turned 77 and is still robustly healthy and active (absolute role model). My dad turned 81 and is in terrible shape physically AND YET he just keeps on going. He's still working part time at a thrift store, which is good for him in terms of getting activity and getting social interaction. But he's started seeing the hallucinations again (they had stopped for a while) and he's engaging in some weird hoarding behavior and experiencing severe paranoia. He does have a doctor appointment next week, and I'm going with him, and the goal is to get a referral to a psychiatrist or, if necessary, inpatient care. It's fucking stressful and I resent being his caretaker, but I'm not abandoning him.

You may have heard that Tim had 2 back surgeries [<---sarcasm]. I didn't anticipate how much assistance/caretaking he would need afterwards, and it was so, so hard (my worst fear was that if I fucked it up, I could fuck up Tim's back). But in the end, he couldn't have had a better outcome. The surgeries did exactly what they needed to do, and he's been committed to PT and walking every day, and he's doing incredibly well. He has his life back, and it's wonderful.

Our 10th wedding anniversary was in September. Tim's nephew got married the weekend closest to our anniversary, and I had the honor of officiating. During the reception, nephew and wife announced a special dance for a niece and her husband, because that exact day was also their wedding anniversary, which was a lovely idea. And then partway through that song, they announced that it was also our 10th anniversary and called us out to the dance floor. It was so sweet, and I was overwhelmed with feelings all at once, and I looked at Tim, who was already crying, which set me off. So we celebrated our 10th anniversary crying our way through a dance that Tim would not have been able to even do 7 weeks earlier. I'll never forget that moment.

My year was ... I can't tell. I think it was good? Busy. Let's go with busy.

At the very end of 2022, we moved into our new house and started unpacking. Here at the end of 2023, we're still unpacking. I'm hoping to have at least the front room that's the library/parlour completely set up by October of 2024, but who knows?

At the very beginning of 2023, I suddenly had to attend the company kick-off event because of reorgs and me being a brand new manager. It went well, and now a whole lot more people at the company know about the Technical Writing team.

Other stuff: Mr. Loomy had a lot of work assignments, my job continued to be good but full of chaos, I kept on taking a hiatus from updating GCS but have been posting daily "Today's advice from your Goth Auntie" things all over social media. Dad went into the hospital a few times, but FINALLY understands that he has to tell me when things happen, not a few weeks later. I started going to a personal trainer, which I loathe doing but know I need to. We went to England in September.

May 2024 be kinder and gentler to us all.

I wanted to edit this but the chances of me having the spoons are… slim.

This fucking year.

Okay, I’m going to start with gratitude because it has been a nightmarish time of conflict and loss, and you can skip all that if you like.

Mostly, I’m grateful for community, that top-notch band of weirdos I have found online and IRL. People who listen to me rant, and let me snuggle their puppies, and support me without judgment through what feels sometimes like an unending shitshow. For y’all, always and forever. For the cards and the advent calendar and the Mardi Gras reservation that is letting me at least take a break from roommate hell.

For the love and care R gave me, even though sometimes I doubt parts of it as manipulation. For the things they taught me about tending to my own needs, and how to be in relationship. For the time I spent with their kids. For the peace of the cabin, sending me off with lunch and having dinner ready when I got out of the shower. For (ahem) the best sex of my life by thousands of miles. For co-regulation just because our feet were touching while we watched tv. For introducing me to pump track and taking care of my injury.

For being there for my mom and family as much as I could and particularly for her last week of life. For the gratitude and wonder she showed me as I cared for her. For the friends who came to the memorial and stayed to clean up afterwards while my mom’s blood family did nothing, which is what they’ve always done. Y’all, they didn’t even bring FOOD. They didn’t even offer. I know their parents were all spinning in their graves. They call themselves Southerners. Ptui. (Whoops! Gratitude section)

For finally feeling free to pursue a relationship with my dad’s sister, with whom I have always felt a kinship.

For finally asking my family to learn about what queer identity means to me and why it isn’t just my “private life.”

End gratitude, begin summary.

At the beginning of 2023, I let go of worrying about my sister and got a burst of energy. I was full of hope and determined to make big changes in my life. Jan 17th, I went out with R for the first time and quickly felt that I’d found my person.

I had three and a half months of almost blissful happiness (aka love bombing). I went back to NC in mid-March on my own terms, had a great lunch with my parents and a terrific weekend with my rugby people. My mom had some abdominal pain but thought it was a hernia.

Two weeks later, she was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. Six weeks later, she turned 75. Ten days later, she died as my dad, sister, Smidge the canine nurse, and I held her and listened to some favorite music. Brutiful. R provided me with invaluable support during that time, and came up for the memorial, at which I took a big impulsive leap and paid the highest tribute to her I could, coming out to her side of the family and everyone else in attendance in the process.

My dad and father were upset, but have, at least somewhat, forgiven me. My sister may never, truly. At this time, she refuses to be in the same room as me. At least she’s finally back in therapy. We did have some good connections and teamwork during my mother’s illness; at least I think we did. Can’t tell with her, the mask is impeccable.

Oh, and I found out R was about to lose their house and rallied my community (mostly y’all) to keep that from happening. Thank you again.

In June, I think (this year is a mad blur in my brain) my friend/mentor/local dad, Bill, let me know that he had terminal colorectal cancer. We hadn’t seen each other in recent years, partly because I was so tapped out from my sister’s issues, so I made a point of visiting him. I got to see him twice, once introducing him to R, before he stopped accepting any visitors outside his daughters and wife. All my attempts at supporting the family fell through, except for spending three hours cleaning up dog poop at the house hosting the memorial. More brutiful. He died in October. I bought some of his hand tools at his estate sale.

Over the summer, I got some money from my mother’s estate and used it to ease my life and that of R’s. I took them and their kids to Margaritaville, which was a most relaxing and delightful time. No regrets.

R got fired the Sunday we got back. They worked sporadically for existing clients and pursued some other options, but mostly waited for their perfect job to come through. The house note fell behind again. I helped pay bills and buy groceries. No regrets.

R came out to themself and me and their family as trans right after getting fired, and dove fully into exploring femme gender expression. That was intense in a lot of ways, both good and difficult. I felt honored and privileged to witness that phase and support them. I tried to connect them with queer community.

Between those needs, taking care of some of my own (a new computer, paying off car, paying off credit card debt), Taco Tuesdays and breakfast out, and indulging in long coveted shiny things (two pairs of Fluevogs)… I went through my cash inheritance. I’ve still got a good boost for my retirement fund, which barely existed prior, but I do have some regret and shame about not making it last. And I could use it now.

My roommate’s neuroses were incompatible with R and their dog, making time in the apartment emotionally uncomfortable. I spent more and more time at the cabin, having literal panic attacks when I had to go back. She insisted on leaving the a/c off most of the time and so I came home from working in a 90 degree workshop to an 80 degree, humid AF apt. I hid in my bedroom mostly. She avoided me entirely.

Speaking of work, in spring my boss V lost her corporate job that was helping bankroll the window company, their sewer line collapsed, and they signed a five year lease on a shop. They spent all their spare time for over a month getting the shop ready for move-in.

I started noticing a pattern of not getting R’s support at key times, and their defensiveness when I tried to talk to them about what support I needed, and a stone wall around money discussions.

Jesus god, this is long, and there’s so much more. I moved to the cabin and kicked out my roommate. My boss G had his own cancer scare that just ended a week ago. Everyone was on their last nerve, it came to a head one morning, and he sent me home for 3 days. I lost a quarter of my twice a month paycheck when my inheritance cash had run out, and most of my emergency fund, and all we had was someone’s word that R would start work 11/1.

I started having the most frequent and intense intrusive thoughts of my life. I felt overwhelmed by anger and without agency at the apartment, the cabin, or work. As soon as my roommate moved out, R wanted to rearrange everything, start bringing the kids immediately, and have the 2nd bedroom be solely theirs instead of a guest room. When I said I wanted to have more time to get ready before bringing them (like, a couple weeks), their response was anger and sullenness.

At work I tried to step up and take on more responsibilities, only to be denied any office or admin time and told to maximize production time. I spent days isolated in the scraping room with no communication beyond perfunctory greetings, while hearing G and V shoot the shit with visitors and be patient and friendly with our new trainees. Oh, we had to fire someone who nearly burned down the shop and tried to blame it on me. When I had fought for her and defended her and been very patient and friendly.

I finally snapped in November, the week before R got their first paycheck. Rolled up with no notice, two friends, and two deputies on Thanksgiving to get my cat and my stuff. R owes me around $3K, and that not counting a lot of money I spent on groceries and meals out, etc. The freedom was heady at first; as you know I am now back to battling my loneliness, anxiety, and body limitations.

I decided not to go home for the holidays, for a number of reasons. I wanted to balance work and getting things in order.

Then I got the flu for Christmas, which scuttled my social, work, and house plans . And here we are.

I actually reached out to R the other day and they are not interested in talking to me, so I gave us both belated Xmas gifts; they got to end things with finality on their terms and I can finally get my brain to stop its gymnastics, rerunning arguments and whipsawing between regret and anger and gaslighting myself.

I’m giving myself grace because 1) it was my longest relationship in 15 years, and THAT was KBD; 2) there was so much good in it, and it was the deepest love I’d ever felt; 3) I learned a lot from R, both positive and negative; 4) it showed me how much work I still need to do on finding myself and loving her in a real sense; 5) focusing on that loss feels safer right now than dealing with the loss of my mom, and B, and JZ. I regret that I wasn’t able to be more present during JZ’s illness, but I simply didn’t have it. (Did I mention two of my mom’s three siblings also have cancer? Haven’t been there for them, either, but then they’ve never been there for me.)

I need to believe that 2024 will bring better things, and I am planting those seeds. Practicing the not fun self care, the important stuff; stepping into my confidence at work, even when it brings outer conflict; starting to think about my next career move, and being honest about the toll living here takes on me and everyone else; being more intentional about connecting with those I love, instead of trying to make everyone like me; contemplating fostering a dog; etc. making space for grief without letting it take all the space.

So that was the year. I do feel like I am putting myself back together stronger than I was. I don’t have a lot of hope for 2024 but I think if I can stave off complete despair and keep looking for good things, that’s win enough.

Hoping for a better year for all.

I'm a bit startled 2023 is already over. The early part of the year was all right, although I'm still adjusting to having my mom live with us, and I'm seriously lonely a lot of the time -- I found a nice therapist, but he was an older man who had spent 40 years working with vets at the local VA hospital, and he couldn't seem to get past his usual methods of breathing exercises and battling anxiety. I know how to calm my anxiety most of the time, it's more depression and loneliness and grief that have ganged up on me. After six or seven visits, I couldn't see making any progress with him.

But now the hard part is finding another therapist I click with and who takes my insurance. Yay?

Once the fall hit, everything piled on at once -- I had rotator cuff surgery, which is a really, really hard recovery, especially since it was my right shoulder (and I'm right-handed). I definitely was not prepared for that level of pain and discomfort, but it healed great, and physical therapy was/is good. I'm going to a new office right near me, and that led to interviewing for a new job -- front desk admin right there! My physical therapist and I hit if off right away, and he's all for it -- he gave them my name and his recommendation. I'm doing one last part of the interview (I think it's the last?) on the 12th.

I love the people I work with currently, but the volume and the hours and the corporate expectations have really soured me on staying there. The rehab clinic would be much more peaceful, and hopefully more money if Dan (and me -- I asked for a few dollars more an hour) gets his way. So that's exciting but also sad -- saying goodbye to my current coworkers is going to be tough.

And then December was just ... shitty. It's the busiest month at the optometrist where I work, because people suddenly realize they have to use their vision benefits or lose them. So I was working crazy hours right when my mother was diagnosed with Stage 2A melanoma, and had to take her into the city for appts and surgeries. And then there was Christmas to prepare for! We did have a nice one, though.

I'm just ... eternally tired. Health stuff sucks -- I have to better manage my diabetes, and I have to find a new therapist (or a friend, maybe?) as well as a neurologist. over the year, I've been fighting losing my balance several times a day, and in early November didn't manage to in time and wound up falling backwards and cracking my head on the cement sidewalk. That was a trip to the ER and four staples in my head.

I'm just hoping 2024 is more peaceful, and good to the people I love.

I am sad that so many of us had so much badness happen this past year. I hope that you all, like me, find that writing it all out and posting it makes it easier to put it all behind us and move on.

2023 was difficult for me, too.

In April my step-mother and half-brothers belatedly held a small memorial service for my father and buried his ashes in the same cemetery plot where his parents and younger brother are buried. The event was emotionally painful. The trip there and back was physically painful. Not a pleasant memory. In hindsight, I wish I had stayed home.

In May one of my cousins died in a car accident. It really shook me, which is odd because we weren't close -- we spent some summers together when we were kids, but the last time we saw each other or spoke together was twenty years ago. I think what got to me was that his was the first death in the family of *my* generation, and he was younger than me.

In June I quit my job. I have metastatic (stage IVb) prostate cancer, peripheral neuropathy, lymphedema, osteopenia, anemia, diabetes, high triglycerides, high blood pressure, and chronic kidney disease. Managing all that has been difficult, and the treatments have had problematic side effects. It got to where I couldn't keep up with the demands of my job. Frustration and depression grew too great. I gave up.

Continuing my healthcare coverage via the COBRA program involved an awkward transition process that took much longer than anticipated. I ended up having to reschedule several medical appointments, but I managed not to get dropped from my clinical trial.

The week after I quit, in an odd coincidence of timing, a Medicare card arrived in the mail. I was not expecting it at all. One of the privileges of my disability status ("You've got stage four prostate cancer? Automatic approval!") was early Medicare eligibility, but I thought I would have to explicitly apply for Medicare enrollment, and I hadn't done that yet. The card indicated that my Medicare Part A and Part B coverage was scheduled to begin on October 1st, 2023. I did a little research and then enrolled in a Medicare Part D plan and a Medicare Supplement (Plan G) policy, plus a vision plan and a dental plan -- all scheduled to start on October 1st as well.

Then in the middle of August I received notice that my disability status had been revoked -- retroactively. One major consequence was that my Medicare enrollment had suddenly become invalid. That threw a wrench into all the healthcare planning I had done. I was advised to submit an appeal, and did so, hoping to restore my Medicare eligibility. The USPS promptly lost that piece of certified mail. I made fresh copies of all the documents and hand-delivered them to the local Social Security office. Four months later (just a couple of weeks ago) I finally got a response (of sorts) to my appeal: a voicemail not actually saying "rejected," merely "Now that you are no longer employed, go ahead and re-apply for disability." I suppose a formal letter will turn up in the mail some day.

The other major consequence of the loss of disability status was that Social Security clawed back all the payments they had been sending me monthly for almost two years. That stung, but it wasn't disastrous -- I hadn't yet spent any of that money. I am still trying to find out just what documentation I will need about the claw-back so that I can amend my tax returns to reclaim the taxes I paid on that Social Security income in 2021 and 2022 -- otherwise I am out another couple thousand dollars.

At the end of August, JZ died. I had a lot of survivor's guilt about that, and it is taking a long time to subside.

In September I came down with Covid-19. I had never experienced rales before; that scary symptom was an unwelcome novelty. My oxygen saturation never dropped, and I never had trouble breathing, it was just noisy. Otherwise, it felt like I had a cold, and it was gone in two weeks. Thank you, vaccination program!

Early in October my quarterly bone scan reported a new lesion, on one of my ribs. It is the first sign of progression of my cancer in two years -- a scary little stumble down the slippery slope to the end.

I'd like to see the solar eclipse this April. I'd like to make it to my 60th birthday this June. Some days those seem like achievable goals. Other days, not so much. Staying positive takes effort.

When I finished my second set of chemotherapy infusions in early 2021 I doubted I would see 2022, let alone 2023. Yet now here we are, starting 2024. Every morning when I wake up I regard it as a bonus day.

I try to get the most out of each and every one.

I hope you will too.

dcp, I hope you have many, many positive days ahead.

2023 was kind of a crappy year for me and mine.

Mr.S’s behavior got to the point where we couldn’t handle it, so we ended up checking him into a residential treatment center in February. He was there until October, with weekend home visits. His behavior is better, but he’s still having tantrums. We did an intensive outpatient program recently.

In August I came home to find that the hose connecting the water supply to the first floor toilet had gotten disconnected and there was a lot of water on the first floor and the lower level. Our insurance company was contacted, and a water mitigation company set up. We moved into a suites hotel the next week. We’re still there. Things have taken a lot longer than we expected, and we’re all tired of being here.

On the upside, Gary and I are still fully employed, and our parents are doing fine.

In summary, we’re stressed, tired and cranky.

{{{Buffistas}}}

I'm unlikely to do any kind of year-end summation but I wanted to take a minute to thank those of you who do. I hope it's good for you to write it all out, but it's definitely good for me to have a big picture sort of thing of where y'all are and what you've been through, even if I have been getting pieces throughout the year as they happened. Love you all and wishing for good things.

So, toward the end of 2022 my father died.

At the beginning of 2023 I took mom on a once in a lifetime sort of trip and thank God I did.

Between COVID, moving during COVID, and the strike, the coffers are bare. Acting has been tabled for the foreseeable future. I have gotten a full time gig at a fancy pants law firm. This is exquisitely painful.

Mom was diagnosed with cancer and has come to live with me so she can be treated at a world class cancer center so I’m pretty grateful to have a good income, soul-selling notwithstanding.

Caring for mom has taken over me emotionally and I have become much less present in the lives of everyone - here and in meat space. My emotional padding has been worn away and other people’s pain shatters me. I cannot watch the news without weeping. Even lurking is usually too much to bear. I keep track of you all, however, via a little bird or two who give me the bullet points. You are all very much in my heart.

(FYI, I am ok. Therapy is twice a week and my family is working well together in caring for mom - I’m just flat out of emotional spoons.)