All Roads Lead to Somewhere

"AH-HA," you say, "Dead-end roads lead nowhere, that's why they're called dead ends." Well, even those roads lead to something, just maybe not what you thought you were looking for in the first place. . . and not all dead-end roads are marked; so if it's not specifically posted as such, is it really? "Well, what about roundabouts? They don't really 'lead' anywhere, either." Ahh. . . but they do! They lead to alternate exits, and they circle back onto themselves, giving you the chance to choose a different route each time you circle around.

Now, my mind isn't really on "roads" other than metaphorically. Negotiating the "roads of life" is never easy and can be often downright treacherous. A map would be nice but, unfortunately, life doesn't come with a map, instruction sheet, owner's manual, or a frigging flow chart. Even if it did, my map was torn to shreds - and after my bold attempt to tape it back together, set on fire and the ashes left to scatter in the wind.

I have, throughout my life, gone from being a shy child bursting into tears upon being addressed to a bold adolescent tired of being whomped on and called "Tits" and learning to stand up for myself to a loud-mouthed young adult having an opinion and not being afraid to express it. As life progressed and I found myself a mother and wife (in that order) and mother yet again, I learned to temper my attitude with some amount of tact, to preserve my credibility so that what I had to say would be listened to and found relevant, even as I listened to and considered other people's positions. Yes, I wanted to hear them, but I wanted to be heard, too! Frequently, however, I was drowned out, dismissed, ignored out of hand. Too often I let it go, failing to stand up for myself and what was inside me - I don't know if it is residual from my early childhood fears or a survival function, telling me to keep my mouth shut to preserve my ability to support my family. Anyhow, I think I am just wandering to see where I end up next and, if it's not the destination I desire, plotting my next course to try to get there.

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I find myself waxing philosophical more and more now than at any other time in my life. I've always had strong opinions and beliefs and although the "cores" of these essential building blocks in the foundation of my interpersonal construction stand strong and true, I find that what is actually housed inside the buildings of my personality can vacate and be replaced as rapidly as tenant turnover in a shitty apartment complex. (I don't have the strength, mentally or physically, to explain that right now. Sorry. Strangely, I have a mental image of a box of donuts from a gas station convenience store - chocolate, powder, and plain - even after you eat the "good" ones, the plain ones pick up some of the powder from inside the box, so they don't look like it but are really still just plain donuts; I know this makes no sense, so blame it on the drugs.)

Part of me wonders why this change is happening, or whether it's been happening all along and I just never noticed it before. Is it age, mellowing? Is it chemical alterations from the MS and/or the pharmacy I now need to treat (not cure, just TREAT) it? Is it just a natural human reaction to opening my eyes and seeing the plight of my fellow man and an inherent desire to create a better world?

I'm very upset lately, confused and kind of. . . I don't even know the words anymore. I want to blame my disease for that lack of clarity I always had, but now part of me wonders if it's entirely the "cognitive impairments" associated with MS or something else.