A letter from November 13th, 2023

Hey you. You're a bit miserable at the minute, here in 2023. Your body is changing, your disability is progressing, and you have absolutely no say in it or any idea what's causing it. I hope you got some answers. I've been playing this game for too long to say "I hope you got a cure." But knowledge helps bring all those scattered thoughts, questions, worries and puzzle pieces together into something manageable. I hope it's manageable.
I know this scattered distress I'm in right now is part of the process, I'm working through it. I'll get there. But as Bear's Den say, "Don't you say that we're gonna get there, show me where, show me where." What's life going to look like there? 
I guess you can answer that. Are you still walking? Can you still drive? Can you still brush your own hair? Are you still angry or has your soul simmered? Are you still sad? Do you still want to walk into the sea and just be carried by the waves for a brief, terrifying moment of giving in, before finding your resolve and swimming back to shore to face the world? Maybe you've actually done that. 
But here's a question - which sea? Is it the North Sea, the sea that's full to the brim with nostalgia? Did you make the move eastwards in the end, to the little cottage where the travellers overwintered? I hope so, I think I'm ready for some overwintering.