One of the subtexts I've noticed in my writing is that we seem to march "onward and upward". I like that story line. I like what it says about me and my family. I like the perspective it offers my readers. There's only one problem. In my case, things are getting worse.
My neuro-pathology is currently raging. It's taking more and more control of my daily life. It takes ever increasing amounts of effort to control. I confess. It's draining. I find myself struggling to remain focused on any task and easily frustrated. These are sure signs of the conscious and unconscious toll that my current decline is exacting.
Some of my symptoms are now beyond the "normal boundaries of Tourette's". I'm experiencing levels of Sensory Integration Disorder normally associated with Autistic Spectrum Disorders. It's becoming very difficult to allow others to touch me. I like being touched by those I love. My current decline makes touch a frightening, stressful thing. It taxes those I love, and I hate it.
I'm coprolalic. Fortunately, this is mostly when I'm alone, but it is effecting the level of profanity in my communication with others. I seriously dislike and resent this lack of control. No matter how people claim to "understand", this one always seems to leave a mark in people's perception of me as a person.
I can feel the tentacles of clinical depression creeping in again. The great paradox is that I'm not unhappy. I've found it entirely possible to be clinically depressed, but happy in a given place and time. Try wrapping your brain around that one. Still, I can see its effect in my point of view and outlook. I'm fighting it for all I'm worth. I have a wonderful life and don't see depression having a place in it. Of all my symptoms, this one is the most unwelcome.
Onward and upward is on hold for now. Time alone will expose the depth and duration of this part of the cycle. Until then, I keep marching, hoping and praying for the inevitable upswing to come quickly. Also hoping and praying that the damage to my relationships is minimal. My inability to be who I choose to be toward my family is the part I despise most. I honestly can't say who pays the greater cost.