When I was in high school one of my best friends was an amazing piano player. We lost touch when we went to different colleges. I kept expecting to hear he was part of some famous rock band.
A while later I contacted him again (I can’t remember how that happened) and he told me he was living a bachelor’s life, traveling Europe and mostly with one woman. When he needed money he would play organ for a church. It sounded like fun but it wasn’t what I expected.
When I checked in with him again, he’d had a stroke. He was back in the U.S. (because socialized medicine was so good for him) and unable to play. He was very angry at God. I think he would know how you feel.
A sobering story.
Oddly enough, ArGee, I'm not angry at or with God. I'm angry at the person I lost, for leaving me as a shell of who I was. That probably isn't the best way to explain it but:
Whatever I've lost, all those things that made me such a force to be reckoned with, will be mine once again in the Eternities.
I truly believe that I was given this disability for the Lord's Purpose, whatever that is. Knowing that, it's up to me to try and live within the parameters of the disability in such a way that I don't bring shame upon me or my God. Being human, it's hard to function sometimes because I remember who I was and what I was capable of, and I realize that those days are gone.
For over a year, maybe two or more when I first came on FR, no one knew I was ill. Now it seems, I can't shut up about it, and I apologize. I think it's a misguided way to try and help people understand the disease and all its ramifications, and that seems to have failed.
So once again, I apologize. I need to just shut up about it and quit trying to make everything about me.