an ill advised confessional

and a question about "autofic"

after giving up on finding a solid definition for literary fiction other than (I can't remember what brilliant substacker said this) “It's like porn, I can't describe it but I'll know it when I see it”, i’ve discovered “autofic”.

quit looking nonplussed, i've been saying i'm new. i'm brilliant at behavior, that's it. i barely passed high school, dissociated my childhood away, memory is shot.

dammit, now my ADHD has kicked in.

what were we talking about?

right, autofic.

btw this is Duck 4 and i definitely should NOT be writing this right now, i'll regret it.

can't stop won't stop.

♤

i want to write about my life. there's not a soul on earth that knows it all. oldest friend i have goes back to 19, I haven't seen him in a decade and we’ve spoken twice in that time. i don't have many friends outside the online sphere.

now that i've been given a set of expiration dates - could be years in packages of 2, 12, or 20 - i'm feeling the urgency to leave something behind.

the 12 is new, and as precise as Dr. Google, i still have a month before i get any clues on what's next. i don’t know a damn think other than the clock is ticking. but it turns out patients with early stage 4 cirrhosis can hold out a good decade or so before their body rots so i could have longer than i thought if i make common sense choices like eating healthy and staying clear of booze. not a problem, sober some time in October, i don't know the exact date because it wasn't planned. i'm angry as hell i lost alcohol and it was definitely a problem during the pandemic but i won't even cook with mirin now. quitting wasn't hard, the binge was always about self medicating. they'll be testing my blood every 3 months for drugs and alcohol, and they can trace ethanol at least a month back, more if you're binging.

They let me keep edibles, but you don't get a transplant if you're abusing your body.

♤

Problem is, they don't know what caused the cirrhosis to begin with. i was clear about the drinking but they're not convinced. i'm only 40. this isn't supposed to happen.

"But you're so young" - my rheumatologist, every single time i see her.

My liver biopsy was sent to Mayo for further evaluation and they decided the cells were too "burnt out" (their words) to find a cause.

Last year before the cirrhosis I was also diagnosed with 4 auto immune disorders. Rheumatoid arthritis, Sjögrens, and Raynauds in June. The Celiac was the worst, that one came in September and I'm still lamenting the loss of fresh pasta and homemade bread. The hematologist is still having me follow up to ensure I don't have lymphoma.

So it could be my body was attacking my liver.

transplants get tricky. if your body is a threat to new organs, they get real shy about giving you one.

♤

I told him I was sick.

I would find out he told my daughter I was lying and lazy.

See this damn dissociative disorder means I struggle to accomplish ANYTHING. Add in the AuDHD with myriad physical calamities i didnt know i had and functioning from day to day was like moving through quicksand. it's even worse now.

i think that's why he started hating me.

But it was inevitable.

He needed an enemy.

People with victim mentality always need an enemy.

The day he threw egg in my face because I told him to make his own coffee was the day I decided to get out.

there i was in the kitchen staring down eight years of abuse with egg on my face.

♤

okay universe. message received.

♤

I started looking at RVs.

Maybe I could fundraise for one.

The community I had been part of knew I was being abused, we had a system for mutual aid, and they had been encouraging me for months.. maybe years to use it.

I don't really remember.

There's a lot I don't rememeber.

But through my community I purchased a used RV for a few grand.

I told him it was the for the family but he knew.

So he hit back with a lakehouse.

It's not like we're rich. The house was in the middle of nowhere, $1,500 a month to live in a town without it's own grocery store and a single school k-12.

It happened so quick we were moving 5 hours away before I knew what was happening.

I couldn't register the RV due to a tax lien, one I'm still fighting for estranged spouse status on, because all the income involved was his.

I didn't even have my own bank account until 2021.

♤

We moved to Northeast NY from September 2022. It was torture. It was magic. The cognitive dissonance tore me inside out.

This had been my Lake since childhood and he knew it.

I was living in hell next to my haven.

I only stayed four months.

My parents came to get me and my children in early January 2023. I had tried telling him I planned to leave but he wouldn't hear it.

He didn't know they were coming.

I had to bring the corgi with us because in his rage he told our daughter he was taking her to the pound to get put down.

I never wanted a dog.

She's a good dog.

♤

I went back to work two days after I returned to my parent's house in New England, where the RV was waiting for us.

That's where we live now.

It doesn't run but we feed electricity through the window and use the house during the day.

On cold nights like tonight my son and I sleep together in my brother's old room while my daughter sleeps in the storage room downstairs.

♤

I had planned to stabilize us in the summer of 2024, but in April I started getting sick.

Since then I've had ultrasounds, CT scans, MRIs, PET scan, HIDA scan, mammograms, pints upon pints of bloodwork. Punch biopsy, lymph node biopsy, colonoscopy, endoscopy, liver biopsy.

It has been. a very long year.

In November, three weeks after my terminal diagnosis, I left the job that helped save me because of a shitty supervisor who couldn't restrain her disdain for the paraprofessionals she was supposed to be supervising.

I was certain I had another job waiting for me.

I was wrong.

My previous employer asked me to reconsider, offering me the same salary of $16.50 to work elsewhere in the school district.

My daughter makes more working at a major retailer.

I declined.

♡

That was two or three weeks ago.

I've been stuck in stasis since leaving my job. Having a purpose and a routine gave me focus. I'm completely unmoored and I have no idea what my future looks like.

♤

I know I have to move.

My state doesn't do liver transplants.

There's only about a dozen states that do unrestricted liver transplants - an issue worthy of its own post.

♤

I know I have to file for disability.

I can’t work full time hours anymore.

By 4pm my cognitive functions are shot, and I’m the only parent of a developmentally divergent nine year old. He needs me functional.

♤

I know I need a liver transplant.

I don't know how much time I have before my life depends on it.

March 20th I meet with the hepatologist at the transplant program that doesn’t offer transplants.

♤

I know my son will need support for the rest of his life.

I have no idea what kind of supports, he's progressing in leaps and bounds.

But he'll need someone, and last I heard from his father he was threatening to kill himself again.

He's been threatening to kill himself for years.

♤

autofic.

none of the above is fiction.

kinda sounds like fiction now that it's typed up.

this is the readers digest version.

haven't even mentioned his girlfriend and her baby that were living with us.

he was horrible to her too, and she was left alone to face his rage when I left.

i don't feel good about that.

we rally around each other now though.

we're both survivors of the same trauma.

♤

so how much do I have to lie to call it autofic?

is changing names and dates enough?

do I have to add in metaphorical hyperbole?

kinda feels like it doesn't need inflating.

the death of a Saint lies somewhere in the middle of all this. my first trip out into the world on my own terms in ten years to hug a friend I had never met. daring to travel to feel the freedom of existing without apologizing for it.

everything above happened within the past 3 years.

♤

I don't want to write a biography.

But I don't want to write lies about my life.

♤

Maybe I don't need to label it at all.

Maybe letting it exist at all would be just enough.

♤

I've always been content with just enough.

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can’t take a damn thing seriously tho.

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duck face.

qak.

♤