I don't even know what's going on right now.
My excema came back. Skin inflamed and firey red burning my eyelids, my inner elbow, my ears, to a lesser extent my nipples. I was so happy when it left last time. Over a year smoothered in steroids and pumped full of antibiotics and far too many mersa tests was too long. Three specialists in a month, too many.
Itcheness isn't like pain, where your nerves work so that you can only feel pain in one part of your body at a time. Everywhere itches, everywhere burns.
And pain. I'm starting to scare myself. When I'm angry or really freaking out I dig my nails into my wrist, my palm, my arm. The worst part is that it works. This time I stop in time and the marks fade in a day or so. But what about next time? I still have a scar on my arm from last summer. I still remember the skin caught beneath my nails, the bright red blood gleaming in the sunlight. I still remember the promise I broke.
I don't know if I believe in God or what. I want there to be some higher power because if humans are as high as it gets concerning earth, then there are some major issues. The plants are better than the humans.
My cousin is leaving soon. Starting his first tour with the Army. He was my favorite cousin the summer I was eight. All my other cousins were fawning over my then 2-year old little sister, but he carried me around on his back and wrestled some with me, gentle enough so that I wouldn't be hurt but rough enough that I still had fun. I've never met his kids. Never met his wife. Got one weeks notice for the wedding so missed that as well. I don't know him any more. He doesn't know me. Doesn't know about Wren. Doesn't know I'm not straight. He lives in Alaska and his views line up with Sarah Palin's. Once he learns about my sexuality (which I'm sure he will at some point) I don't know if he'll disown me. I might never see him again. He's going to the middle east...Afganistan, I think. I might never see him again.
I'm worried I'm losing it. Worried I need to go see a physcologist or something before I lose control to the OCD or get depressed again (probably not clinically) or completely forget how to manage my emotions. I'm scared. My dreams are so messed up, but at least now I sleep enough to dream.
On a happier note, the dance went well. Wren wore a suit and I a dress and we learned to swing dance and the charleston and it was great and Hannah brought her girlfriend and so even though there were only 25 people Wren and I weren't the only couple that wasn't exactly boy-girl and actually together. I adore Wren.