I can’t express how desperately I need to create some record of what is happening to me, in my brain. I also can’t express the kind of energy it takes me to paint a picture or write an essay or even a card to a loved one. The focus to stay with something, when I have no other person here to keep me on-track.

I’m sad my family won’t hear about what is going on inside my head until it is confirmed by doctors. Not sad. Heartbroken. Am I not enough of an expert on my own brain to have any credibility?

This is not so with BF. He listens, he offers thoughts, points out funny circumstances…anything I could ask for, if I had the presence of mind to do so. Holds me when I am overcome with terror, calms me with his steady presence. Reassures me that his love is not just for the good times…

I feel so warm and loved.

And so fucking afraid for him. Afraid that my decline will smash his heart. Continuously. (Or is it continually? Crap I can’t remember which one I want to say.) On and on, without stop. Days. Months. Years.