Swinging around so quickly it makes my head spin.

The good: I'm not dizzy anymore! Turns out, when I fell and hit my head last week, I knocked the crystals in my left ear out of place. I went home at noon and did the Epley maneuvers and POOF! Problem solved!

The bad: I want a hamster. Like I've said, I can't have my cat at home, so I only get to see him a couple hours a week. It would be so nice if I had a cuddly little buddy waiting for me when I get home.

Roommate says - ask the owner of the house.

Owner of the house says - no, hamsters smell.

Okay, hamsters don't smell. And even if they did, it's gonna be in a cage, in my room, affecting no one but me.

I'm almost 30 years old and this is how little control I have of my own life. I can't even get a freaking hamster.

It never goes smooth.

I'm getting off the meds, which is probably why I'm so dizzy I can hardly stand, why it feels like my brain keeps inflating like a balloon. I'll see the doctor again, but I have a hunch I just have to ride it out. I KNEW that it would get worse before it gets better. And I'm getting better at distinquishing between dreams and reality. I just wish I knew for sure what's wrong with me.

Otherwise...I'm happy. I comprehend the word "serenity" and I know peace. I'm sponsoring a girl in the program, which is challenging, but rewarding. I helped my roommate celebrate her birthday this weekend - and it was a better day for me than any birthday I've had in years! I'm making new friends...and family.

Saturday night I got to sit next to my friend's darling son while he drew pictures for me, then he turned to his mom and said "Can my aunt Jacki come over and see my hamster?"

I am truly blessed.

Waxing poetical: "unchosen"

This is more song than poem, but here it is.

You see me on the corner
I don't meet your eyes
The cold sun silhouettes me
Do you realize?
I'm broken without you
And I'll always think about you.

It's so cold in my world
Since you let me go
And I'm lost in the dark
Oh but you'll never know
How you've stolen the light
That you taught me to shine so bright

And if you could go back
Would you do it again?
Would you build me a world
Just to let it all end?
Tell me how do you sleep
With the promise you didn't keep?

The window's cracked, I'm looking out.

I passed my neuro tests. My bloodwork came back normal.

We don't know why I'm losing my mind.

I'm coping with my stress...right? I have my moments when I curl up in bed and cry, or when I want to. But I think I'm okay.

But then...why does my brain feel so disconnected from my body? Why can't I tell my dreams from my reality?

They want to double my meds. They think I'm not coping as well as I think I am.

I want OFF the meds. I think they might be screwing me up...although why now, after four months, I don't know. But what if they're right and I'm wrong? What if I quit the meds when I need them most? I really don't want this to get worse.

I don't know. I guess I'll try praying harder.

"No reason is needed for loving."

This is the best Valentine's Day I've ever had. Because I finally understand love. I finally get it.

First, I had to grasp the unconditional love of the Maker. I had to see how much He loves me.

And in doing that, I learned to truly love myself.

It was that leap that enabled me to see the Soul of the World. And it is beautiful. Because it is love.

Life is a beautiful puzzle. We're all just pieces. Puzzle pieces don't choose their place; they are destined for it.

The people in my life, the ones who love me and who are loved by me, are a part of my own puzzle, and as a result, are a part of the puzzle of every person beloved of me, even those they have never and will never know.

Isn't that beautiful?

I am in love today. In love with myself, in love with the Lord, in love with the puzzle of life.

Love is beautiful. Even the love that hurts. The opportunity and capability to feel someone's pain to the point that it becomes my own is a blessing.

I feel like I'm in Jedi training. I'm learning to love without possession. In AA, they tell us that the only way to keep something is to give it away. In the same way, sometimes the only way to love someone is to let them go. Not necessarily to remove them from your life or yourself from theirs, but to accept that they will never be yours.

My greatest love will always be mine. Always, and never. Learning to accept the balance of those has enabled me to love him, myself, and God more than I ever thought possible. Our great romance was a fleeting moment, a moment that will always be ours and ours alone, a moment that left an indelible mark upon us both. Accepting that moment for what it is has brought me joy beyond measure. We will always be a part of one another, so long as I hold my heart high and love him unselfishly, the way I am meant to.

No evil can come from love. Heartbreak is not the result of love, it's the result of selfishness. Love unselfishly, but love carefully.

"Above all else, safeguard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." Proverbs 4:23

"Faith is allowing ourselves to be seized by the things we cannot see."

I have two very dear friends, both male, both going through similar struggles, both brokenhearted. I consider it a blessing to be able to be there for them, to try as best I can to give them strength, hope, and faith, to support them and just love them.

Both have expressed the same sentiment - "If I can't her, I don't want anyone, I don't want to live."

This breaks my heart, because both these men are so good, so kind, so loving, so deserving of every happiness. But I understand all too well how hard it is to have faith in God's plan when your own plans get ripped away.

At the same time, I want to yell and scream and pull my hair in frustration. No one has ever loved me half so much as these men love their respective women! How is it that I can still believe myself to be so worthy of love, yet they can't!

And then I laugh at myself, and chide myself for my selfishness. I know that God has plans for me beyond my comprehension. I know that I am meant for happiness.

But if I could give that faith away, I would. If there was any sacrifice I could make to bring joy to those I love in their times of struggle, no price would be too high.

The indescribable sadness of a car with bench seats.

I spent 16 straight hours in bed yesterday. Just sleeping or lying there, not watching movies, not reading, not knitting, not gaming. Just...trying not to exist. I think it's a new record for me. I went to Wichita with dad to get my new car, and when I got home I simply crawled into bed and stayed there.

I know some of it is nerves about my cervical biopsy tomorrow. And to an extent, it's always going to be like this. It'll never just go away. I could go years testing okay just to have it come back out of the blue. The only way to be completely free of this means sacrificing my ability to have children, and I'm not ready to do that.

And the rest of it is just depression. The sorrow, the loneliness, the pain, the anger.

It will get better. I know it will. I will be okay. I know I will.

Someday.

Slipping through my fingers.

I want a baby so much. My own tiny person, my own part of me, that I can love and raise and teach all the things it took me so long to learn myself. A little light that will keep shining after I burn out.

Time is running out. I've felt this way for a while, but before it was just the reproductive viability timeline - the drastically increased risk of birth defects that comes with pregnancy after age 35.

Now I'm 27 and have pre-cancerous cells on my cervix.

My life has now become a game of watching and waiting. My future is full of excruciatingly unpleasant tests, which will tell me when the time has come for treatments that will make it difficult (or impossible) to have a baby.

It's so hard to rely on my faith right now. I know that God has a plan for me that I can't hope to understand, but when my heart cries out for something like this it is hard to ignore.