Hugs to you, Christina. Even with the fine qualities and insights you possess, you, like everyone of us, hits the wall, says WTF is the use of it all, crawl or creep through another brain fog day or you're cruising with the Stealth bombers at 50 or 60.000 feet. Life isn't easy and life isn't fair. Life just 'is'. And each of us with this illness, tries desperately to find some meaning, some sense, some purpose for what we go through day after day after day. It doesn't matter if we have someone who loves us in a way we thought we'd never be loved or we're alone, keeping the world at arms length, lest we go off into deep space with Doctor Who.

Just now, I was saying to my wife that if my next med fails, maybe I'll go to California and find a top shelf psychiatrist who's knowledgeable about marijuana because for the past two days, I've been eating lots of Klonopin and I feel so utterly sick and dysfunctional. To be specific, I don't know what the damn point is. The only way I know how to live is no matter how many times life knocks me down, I get back up because I know that if I don't get back up, game over.