Hepatologist appointment went as well as it could, and I get 6 more months before another follow up, so yay! Not coincidentally it's also been over a year since my last drink on March 20th last year. Have I wished I could again? Yes. Do I dream sometimes that I'm drinking or drunk? Yes. But the memory of just how badly things can go with my liver and basically all bodily systems at this point from the decades of damage has kept me clean. To quote Egwene from "The Great Hunt" in The Wheel of Time book series, "I don't think there's any going back for me ever."

So I'm continuing forward, despite the constantly shitty news flow and detrimental actions of our current government, knowing that where I am is the best I can be now, and trying to keep my anxiety in check in more natural ways. That's good enough for now. 

Tomorrow I'm off to see my hepatologist and don't have to take time off of work since he's going to be in the office an hour away instead of across the state, and because I worked a half day on MLK Day so I could have a half day tomorrow.

I shouldn't be nervous. I've seen my blood test results and ultrasound results and while they really aren't going back to 100% normal it's still better. But something about this makes me afraid every time. Maybe it's similar to what cancer survivors feel when they have their checkups post-treatment, that awful sense that things can get that bad again. Is it probable? No. Possible? For the rest of my life, yeah.

I saw my sister's extremely unconventional approach to a cancer diagnosis and watched that anxiety eat up over a decade of her remaining years due to never going to therapy and dealing with it. She got lucky that she had a longshot bet on Bitcoin that sustained her financially, and parents that let her stay rent-free for 15 years. Yes, she traveled. Yes, she felt more in control of her life.

But I saw the full picture. She went from being high-strung to being relatively non-functional in stressful situations. She was afraid to be home alone after dark. She refused to drive unless she absolutely had to, and even as a passenger would scream at the top of her lungs if she thought an accident was imminent (it never was). She squandered huge sums of money on supplements that are dubious at best when it comes to anti-cancer benefits (pancreas supplement anyone? And no, she didn't have pancreatic cancer), acupuncture, and high-end NYC doctors that as long as you pay them, they'll do whatever you want. 

Even putting the money aside, now she's going in for all of the anti-aging treatments that don't involve surgery. Maybe now she's regretting putting her life on hold for so long; I haven't gotten a solid read on that with her, but her new plan is living in Evanston and surviving on crypto trading so reality still hasn't given her a swift enough kick in the butt to conquer her fear of feeling "owned" by having a regular job.

So while I am anxious, I can work through it. Sure, tonight's dreams will likely suck since I don't have as much control over that, but I finished my shift tonight, am getting ready for bed, and will do the necessary tomorrow to show up, remain calm, discuss concerns, and know I'll have to do it all over again in 3 months, 6 months if I'm lucky. I refuse to give in to irrational fears and try to put rational fears in perspective because as I've seen, if you don't it just compounds.

If she ever does go to see a therapist and truly tells him what's going on (unlikely since she doesn't even tell her friends), he'll have a field day with her neuroses. I went through it all earlier on since I kept reaching out for help from undergrad until today, and I'm far from perfect, but for now it's being kept in check. 

God fucking dammit, I'm tired of waking up on random Saturdays only to find that Trump decided to invade/attack another country. And I'm tired of seeing the same MAGA people (including a few in my family) who were all "America First, get us out of forever wars" cheering him on when he's doing EXACTLY the opposite of what he said, and they suffer not a minute of cognitive dissonance. America, Fuck Yeah yippe-ki-yay motherfuckers. Have the day you voted for.

Oddly enough I was up watching Joker on Friday night, and identifying with the nihilist message threaded throughout, much as I do when I watch Fight Club. It's not that I'm promoting it as a philosophy worthy of action, but it speaks to that place in my soul that just wants to tear everything down sometimes. A vicarious outlet that helps me reset and focus on the good in the world instead after acknowledging my own dark side.

Then I wake up to Iran being bombed.

Fuck this timeline, and fuck Trump in particular (though CERTAINLY not in the literal sense) for somehow managing to bring out the worst in everybody and everything he touches, and skate away free of consequences every. damn. time. For now, I'm hoping this ends as well as it can, which is that Iran institutes a new government and Trump loses interest since he has the attention span of a gerbil. And of course that someday very soon that great big coronary comes his way and we can be rid of him forever.