Chapter 6 ish: Rebooting… Please Stand By (Identity Still Loading)

So… after a long hiatus, and zero and I mean zero F’s to give, I’m back. I kept this website alive on a wing and a prayer. If it gets shut down, well you know, I'm a broke ass recovering addict.

Did I learn anything after the relapse of summer 2024? Nope. Well… actually, yes. I learned this addiction doesn’t just drain your bank account it ravages your brain and completely rewires it.(I’ll post more neuro-spicy content later.)

Did I learn anything after spring 2025? Yes. That for me, gambling was never really about money. It was about emotional processing… or, more accurately, not processing.

And when you’ve spent your entire life feeling like an ignored doormat, those emotions don’t exactly show up once in a while. They show up all the time.

Did I learn anything after summer 2025? Yeah. Choose your life partner wisely. Because no one survives a loveless marriage, especially when the person you thought was your soulmate seems to have eyes for literally anything with two legs.

Did I learn anything after the Christmas/New Year relapse of 2025–2026? Yes. That leaving yourself in a chronically unfulfilled state, will lead to more relapse which will quite frankly ultimately lead to my demise.

Having said this; however, the universe has made that very clear.

Mast cell disease? Stay alive. Allergic to everything? Stay alive. Almost dying of sepsis? Stay alive. Pneumonia, oxygen at 87%, doctor asking if I consent to being intubated… and me saying I’d rather not. Still here.

Why? No f***ing clue.

But here we are.

So I ask myself: if I’m truly alive, what does that even mean?

To be clear, I’m not suicidal. I’m just exhausted in a way that sits deeper than words sometimes can.

I sit quietly, wishing for silence, trying to calm my soul and find a way through this.

Somewhere in all of this… I think I’m supposed to find myself, or the new version of her.

Regardless I’m no longer afraid of living with a heart this tired. Every day it feels a little heavier, and somehow I still manage to love. Every breath carries memories that still haunt me, and every night is a reminder of just how solitary pain can be. Somehow, I'm still here.