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October 13, 2010

A month ago, I began working on my first small-scale quilt. I began by putting together random abstract shapes. I was surprised to see a whale, breaching, arise. I had a lot of ideas for ways to embellish it, and bring it to life. But gradually I was worn down by logistics. And just last night, I put it away, unfinished.

Two days ago, I ended an association that had started off promisingly, but over time I realized it was not working. After voicing many of my concerns, the other person was willing to start over, but I wasn’t.

Every time I think I’ve hit the limit of physical issues I’ve been facing, more begin surfacing. I’m starting to despair that I will ever again feel like a reasonably healthy woman in midlife.

My dictating software, or at least the headset, seems unable to understand what I’m saying today. Even after readjusting the headset at least 20 times (far more than I’ve ever had to do before), I’ve continued to  have to repeat things over and over and over, and then still manually type corrections. I’ve gotten used to being heard, so seeing my thoughts garbled on screen, over and over, is frustrating and enervating.

I was hoping my latest “long descent” was coming to an end, and I would be ascending soon. But instead I seem to be descending deeper, much further down than I’ve ever gone before. Everything is dark. I feel stripped down to my essence, and about to be swallowed up by the uncaring abyss. If meeting the abyss is inevitable, I should turn around to face it, but I fear utter annihilation. So I’m stuck. If I have options, I don’t know what they are, or what they might produce.

Perhaps this means anything is possible. I hope something good, something that doesn’t hurt, happens next.

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