Oh, that's right. Because my best bet for scholarship and grant money is based on my stupid oligoastrocytoma. And every time I actually sit down and think about the actual mechanics of it, I start thinking about the timeline. And the percentages working against me. And then I think about odds. And the malignancy. And the flashbacks. And all of the horrible other things involved in it. And it's a self-perpetuating cycle.
But the best bet I have for scholarships and grants means slogging through the internets, looking for specific brain tumor-associated grants, most of which won't actually be available until next year, but I need to start looking and bookmarking now.
It's difficult, facing up to the knowledge of what could, and might, and has and did, happen. All of it was hard. Try as I might, it doesn't change any of the basic facts of my life. I can pretend that everything is normal, and that I'm living a normal life, but in fact, I won't ever be a regular person. There are limitations that I don't like acknowledging, and things I have to handle, and that sucks.
Such as searching for scholarships, instead of just getting a fucking job. Because that would be the more practical solution, but it's not feasible. I can't do both. I don't like it, but there it is. Just little day to day things, practicalities that bother me, and I don't want to dwell on them, and distracting myself is a sure-fire way to focus on them all the more.
On a different subject entirely. I'm trying to hope for the best, and prepare for the worst, simultaneously. There's something that I truly want. But I don't want to get my hopes up, in case I can't have it. If that makes any sense. And yet, being me, I can't help but sit, and arrange things in my head, and make sketchy plans, because, well, that's what I do.
Some days, I truly hate the way my mind works.
C'est la vie.
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