Amor Fatty

Wow. It's been a while.

Somehow, while I was gone, the blog seems to have turned into Mogg's livejournal circa 1998. Artistic pictures of the emergency ward? What in the...

I'm not worried about the blog's transformation; it's something I predicted would happen when we started, although at that time I thought it would have been my overwrought musings to blame rather than Mogg's. We decided to write a joint blog during one of our epic skype conversations, necessitated by the fact that I was living in Ithaca, alone, depressed and with way too much time on my hands. A blog together appealed to me because I feared that alone, I wouldn't have the sticktoitiveness to write. As it turned out, living in a foreign place with too much time on my hands made it pretty darn easy to write in the blog.

Since then, I've moved back to my dream city (Toronto), gotten a dream apartment (in COOL PARKDALE) with my dream man (AWWWW); I've got work coming out the wazoo and have a list of craft projects a mile and half long that I'm upset I probably won't get to until I retire in 30 years. Now it's actually hard to write.

Coming back here after Mogg's last post is difficult for me. Glibness comes naturally to both of us, and I feel much more comfortable considering her mental illness from behind the veil of exaggerated detachment that is characteristic of our way of communicating with each other. It's been a few years since I've really worried about Mogg because for the last while, I've had to worry about myself. More so, it became too draining to worry; it only makes sense to brood over things that won't get better so at some point I decided it was easier to believe things would get better than to keep on fretting. Since then, I've embraced an attitude that keeps my emotions one degree removed from the emergency  room. Writing about all this erodes the 'healthy distance' I prefer to keep between myself and the fate I'm supposed to love.

Our 'Veil of Exaggerated Detachment' lolz

It's been so nice for me to read the lovely outpouring of support for Mogg from readers. It comforts me to know that others (along with many of our friends and family) are invested and affected by Mogg's state, even if I can't seem to absorb its reality. Sometimes strangers are the best for good vibes.

Now that I'm home and feeling back to my old self, it seems a cruel turn of events that Mogg's episodes are worsening.  It's as though we share some fixed pool of regularness between the two of us, and when one's up, the other is necessarily down.

'Pool of Regularness' looks grrrrreat

Regarding the blog's role in all this: if getting a diagnosis for your 10-year old condition, taking leave from work in order to attend daily treatment and learning to accept this shit show as your fate isn't getting reg, then I don't know what is! Blog away, Mogg, and I'll be here to make sure things don't get too macabre around here.

For now, I'm eating some dessert for breakfast!