I am the... um, Warden!! Yeah, that's it.
My lawyer's gonna be pissed if he ever finds out about today's post. To that end, there will be many details I'm not going to get into nor will I enter the blame game on how it all got to this point. As this is my personal blog, what's written here is intended to be more than just Optional System updates, design theories, and other gaming related material. It's about the mental exercise of crafting sentences to form coherent thoughts, something I'd never would be an issue until at least 20 years from now.
2012 is supposed to be a big year for me, the Year of Bouncing Back. No more sitting on the sidelines watching the world go by, it's time to grab hold and hitch a ride again by taking a more active approach to my therapy and my career. The first couple of weeks were productive, yet bogged down by medical appointments and family visits (not that I'm complaining, they all serve a purpose, but made it impossible to set down a solid week of work). This week was to be my first "full week" of work in the retooled office I hope to call Broken Ruler HQ. Yesterday had something else in mind.
While psychologists and social scientists say the third Monday of January is the most depressive day of the year, I think that was just coincidence. Yesterday, my brain no work good. After running some errands with a borrowed car, I came home with incredible difficulty concentrating, my head all abuzz with random, confusing thoughts, and my eyes twitching to create a strange dizzy sensation. I couldn't form concrete thoughts or explain myself properly, instead carrying on in offbeat explanations. Monday afternoon and evening were a bust as I had to rest and take it easy. Today's much better, but still a bit fuzzy, leaving me uncertain what I'm writing here actually makes any sense.
During times like this, there are two emotions I struggle with. The first is frustration. While my fiancee calmly explains how everyone has off days, this struggle with words and thoughts is still new to me. For example, when I tried to explain a problem with the heat in my mother-in-law's car, I couldn't think of the word for "dashboard" and became locked on calling it a "forecastle." I kid you not. This was very upsetting.
The second emotion is defeat. Not quite a depression, but an overwhelming sense of inevitability. Alzheimer's runs in my family; my grandfather had it and my grandmother suffers from dementia at this very moment. The possibility of my elderly years spent wondering why I can't just crap in my pants instead of using that porcelain chair has weighed on me for nearly a decade and days like yesterday make me feel as if it's already begun. It's times like this I wish my foot would start hurting more so I could focus on something else more substantial, considering the circumstances.
When the fog clears and a mild amount of clarity returns, those emotions fade and I'm reminded the road ahead is still long and winding. And it's all uphill, baby. When the anger and resentment subside, another emotion takes hold: determination. I will get this work done despite this disability (which I must now accept or else I'll be consumed with loss, I know it). Killshot will become an incredible game not only because of the incredible support of friends, family, and my darling Chelsea, but because I would not go down without a fight. The key is to remember that all fights come with cuts and bruises and the occasional defeat. A man is not measured by his losses, but his ability to stand back up when he falls and fights back.
Ring the bell, motherfucker. Let's start the next round.
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