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For the last several days any time I've eaten I've immediately become extremely nauseated, although I've only vomited once. At first I was trying to convince myself that I had somehow caught a bug, but I've finally accepted that it has to be emotional and that's okay. Fibromyalgia is exacerbated by stress and powerful emotions and I'm certainly experiencing all of that right now.
It's hard to believe that all my possessions have been ruined, but I'm slowly coming to grips with it. I'm certain that my comic book collection, the one I began when I was twelve years old, has been completely ruined. All my books on magic and the metaphysical have also all been destroyed, in that case, as have my roleplaying books that I'd so carefully collected over the years. All of my complete drawings will have been totally saturated by now, right along with my collection of tarot cards. I doubt I'll have any clothes left untouched by the foul, fetid flood waters and all the furniture will need to be replaced, except possibly the metal and glass kitchen table, but probably it, too. My favorite hemp bedspreads, each a totally unique work of art, will be ruined by now, too dirty to ever be made clean again. The plaster walls of our house have no doubt soaked up a good deal of the flood waters, so when the water recedes they'll harbor mildew, to which I'm horribly allergic (it can kill me if I'm exposed to it long enough) and the beautiful, hardwood floors have undoubtedly swollen and buckled.
Many of the things I'd collected over the years cannot be replaced, but none of them are anything I need to live. We can build a new house, buy new clothes and furniture, we can fill it with the things we love again, but that doesn't make it any easier. Being with my friends or having Allen* here would make things less difficult, but that isn't an option right now, so I'll just continue waiting. I'm just so impatient.
It's hard to believe that all my possessions have been ruined, but I'm slowly coming to grips with it. I'm certain that my comic book collection, the one I began when I was twelve years old, has been completely ruined. All my books on magic and the metaphysical have also all been destroyed, in that case, as have my roleplaying books that I'd so carefully collected over the years. All of my complete drawings will have been totally saturated by now, right along with my collection of tarot cards. I doubt I'll have any clothes left untouched by the foul, fetid flood waters and all the furniture will need to be replaced, except possibly the metal and glass kitchen table, but probably it, too. My favorite hemp bedspreads, each a totally unique work of art, will be ruined by now, too dirty to ever be made clean again. The plaster walls of our house have no doubt soaked up a good deal of the flood waters, so when the water recedes they'll harbor mildew, to which I'm horribly allergic (it can kill me if I'm exposed to it long enough) and the beautiful, hardwood floors have undoubtedly swollen and buckled.
Many of the things I'd collected over the years cannot be replaced, but none of them are anything I need to live. We can build a new house, buy new clothes and furniture, we can fill it with the things we love again, but that doesn't make it any easier. Being with my friends or having Allen* here would make things less difficult, but that isn't an option right now, so I'll just continue waiting. I'm just so impatient.
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