On that missing time

So, um, yeah, I’ve been gone a while.

Was about halfway through the year last year (2015) that Dyssonance.com — and several other websites — dropped off the face of the earth.

When that happened, the history and massive number of posts that were there — some 6,000 or so — vanished as well. Because, well, I wasn’t just around to stop it from happening, I wasn’t around for making backups f things that are important to me.

Then again, there wasn’t a whole lot that was important to me.

So here we are again. You, me, and a passel of words. So the question likely rises for those who don’t keep track of me on FB or whatever, “WTF happened?”

Long story as short as I can make it.

In Late October of 2013, my husband was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. It was the brutal kind — Glioblastoma Multiforme. If you want to know just how much of a nasty thing that is, google it and look for videos. Don’t read the wiki or look at webMD or any of that Just go straight to videos.

I cannot. Even now.

I did attend Creating Change, I did keep posting here, I did do work locally, I even tried to do more stuff. More or less pretending that my husband, a very physical man who suddenly lost the use of the left side of his body, was not dying in front of me. I went to Chicago, I did things.

I married him, among them. This is why he is my Husband. Well, was.

His last major effort was a trip to his home city, Des Moines, to see some of his old high school friends. For several months, we traveled this city, looking up his friends from 30 years of living here. Taking a trip through his past.

Some of you may remember Tower Records. My husband was a big part of that amazing cultural institution. Bigger than I can really describe, because he never really seemed to get it too much — but then, he also sorta had some stuff going on there that wasn’t all that great.

Which is why he was 20 years clean and sober at the time of his passing.

My husband, before he met me, frequently dated trans women. Often trans women of color. Cross dressers, as well, when they lived more often in that role.

He was, by the reckoning of many folks, a “chaser”. However, by the time he and I were set up on a blind date that became our meeting, he wanted a gal he could settle down with and live and build a life.

Which I say because it will have some bearing on a post that will be coming out fairly soonish.

After the trip home, we settled into doing our best to make him comfy, as it seemed that each week brought some change.

I have been through death by cancer before. Close, personal. I have been a caregiver before — too many times, and I have no doubt I will do it again. I know the patterns. I know the ebb and flow, the surge and the relapse.

I know there is nothing anyone can say that makes it better, and so I no longer say anything. I just wait to be there and give hugs or make food.

He passed away in the middle of a bright sunny morning in his own bed, he and I there with the pups who were staying close to him the whole time.

My dog HellYeah doesn’t bite. She nipped hard at the heels of the orderlies who took his body away. Pixie, my other pup, was even more distraught than I was — she kept waiting in bed for him to come back.

I was “strong”. I thanked everyone, I nodded and accepted the proffers of this or that. I let them know I was alright, that there were other people that needed them.

As I closed the door to the last person, the house now void of the man I loved, my knees vanished and I gave such a moan of despair that the poor gal from Hospice who was the last to leave nearly came back, and my neighbor down the street heard it.

The tears came.

I do not handle grief, loss, or the destruction of everything I had ever dreamed about very well.

That is an understatement, and if you don’t know that or have forgotten about that quirk of mine, let me note that this was a long time ago.

It was October 17th, 2014. He almost made it the year that would have been ahead of the odds.

I had to look it up. And doing so has me all teary again. Damn it.

I tried, several times, to come out of the depression that took hold of me.

I am a fast cycle bipolar sort. In normal situations I am able to sorta keep it all on a nice even keel in a super quick, too fast to notice unless you live with me or work with me sorta way. I am so fast I can swing through the whole cycle in as little as four hours.

The kind that meds essentially have all those warnings attached. Which is ok, really, since it only becomes a problem when I encounter trauma.

Now, trauma, on the other hand, that shit is hard.  And losing your spouse is hard. I strongly recommend that you never let your spouse die. Pet sematary is ok by me, ok? Just to let you know.

So, really, from October 17th 2014 to March 1st 2016 I was basically checked out.

I did a trans visibility speaking engagement in 2015. It took pretty much everything I had to pull it off. Some of you may know of a stupid little fight I had about then.

Me, being me when I am depressed.

The rest of the time, well, I dropped out, tuned out, and shut out the world.

Lost Our home. Bank foreclosure. Had to demand payment of back pay. Got a house for it. Moved. Hunkered down in misery. Stopped enjoying anything. Stopped cooking. Ordered a lot of fast food, never took out the trash.

The house was neglected. Trash piled up. Lawyers I had hired got frustrated (20 grand worth of frustrated, it turned out later on).

You know those hoarder houses? As I was coming out of things, I looked around this house and that was what popped into my mind.  Which didn’t help tons, as Dave sorta liked watching those shows and wanted to try and do something to help folks in that situation.

He was like that.

And yes, my Husband’s name was Dave. David. David Joseph. Biblical, ain’t it?

In the vernacular of gamers, I was salty as all fuck. Thankfully, my husband was not Lot.

My one release during all this time was playing a video game. Which is kinda humorous in an ironic way.

You see, I never played video games before. I got a playstation to spend more time with my son. It probably saved me from getting overly maudlin, and to give you an idea of how different things are right now, I haven’t picked up the damn thing in nearly three weeks.

My clan is going to kill me. I’ve missed the raids. I’m like levels behind them.

On the other hand, oh holy shit have I some things to say to gamergate folks. Gonna be fun, lol.

So for about a year and a half, I was in mourning. But, in practical terms, I have been all but out of circulation for roughly three years.

I say all but because I did do some stuff during this down time.  I played with ignorant liars on tumblr. I wrote two books. I created three songs. I worked on six different sociology projects as a consultant. Four for free. Not proud of the work on a couple of them, did some of my best work on the last ones.

But, in general, I avoided anyone and anything I knew or that reminded of Dave.

I heal slowly. In one of the few jaunts online, I asked if anyone had seen my dreams, because with Dave gone, all the dreams I had about what I was going to do in the future, all the goals, all the things I loved were gone, too.  They were all tied together with him.

This was worse than losing my mother, worse than losing my grandmother. Hell, I was so distraught over it, that I couldn’t even begin to process the death of my aunt, which happened shortly after that (cancer, again).

So, yeah, couldn’t blog, couldn’t be brought to care — even my smackdowns of haters on tumblr lacked real interest. They were all rote.

Then I got a bit more than ok. ANd then my son said he needed me. For a week.

You have to realize that right now my son is the world to me. He says he needs me — and its a realish need — I will do whatever I can.

ANd so I got busy. Really slowly at first. Trash out. Dishes done. Boxes unpacked.

Then money came. Because I got ahold of the lawyers. Who took half of it.  A third of what I did get went to the mortgage. Not gonna lie, I spent another third on the house and a new wardrobe and getting some of my biz stuff back in order — like this website, lol.

The last third is going towards some health care stuff that would be even more exciting if the lawyers hadn’t taken 20 grand more than they were expected to. Dentists are involved. I’m terrified.

Which is ok. I have 80 grand in equity. I get a good income stream I can demonstrate, and I’ll get a loan, and we’ll take care of that thing soon enough.

Much of this rebirth has been documented on my FB wall. The followers I have (600+ fewer than I used to have, I note, lol) there have been getting entertained or annoyed by the frequency of those posts.

I am, however, truly back. I have dreams and goals and objectives again. I have heart slowly building up – call me 80% back, with the last 20% being me rebuilding that supply of give a damn.

Hey, I have a lot of give a damn. I had a huge amount before, but it all went away. Going to take time to get it rebuilt up.

Like this blog.

Three times a week I will post. I promise. Usually Monday, Wednesday, Friday. With a weekend podcast that I am working out, and a livestream feed that will be watchable through Twitter for the moment, and visible here as well in archive format.

I put all my social media sources in the little icons there.

When an Empress gets her shit together, she makes Empires shake.

And with The Transsexual Empire under assault, I’ve got some shaking to do..