Just Trying to Survive


Just trying to survive

So about two weeks ago I was put in a position where I had to take an unpaid medical leave from my job for 30 days. I didn’t want to take the leave, but facing the choice of being fired for getting sick and having to call in again for any reason, I took the option that kept my insurance. The insurance being important because I am in the process of trying to get a proper diagnoses for whatever is wrong with my stomach.

Basically for the past 8 years I have spent weeks at a time throwing up every day, for no reason. I am sick all the time, scared to eat because I might get sick, which again makes me sick, and anxious that I will lose my job for this problem, which also leads to more throwing up. It sucks. And as bad as that is it isn’t the worst of it.  I am so sick all the time, I can’t even play with my son if I am able to even spend time with him.

When I am having a flare up I feel like I have mono. I am exhausted. And I can’t focus on anything. The medication I take for my nausea is helping, but it also makes me very sleepy and causes blurred vision. And my anxiety is still so high that I can’t eat. This is common in the temporary diagnosis I have been given of Cyclical Vomiting Syndrome, yes it’s a real thing and it doesn’t go away. I have to live like this for the rest of my life, I can only work towards trying to manage it. I have been getting tons of testing done which has put me even further into debt. Without my insurance the ability to find out what is actually going on with my stomach, is going to be over.

My biggest problem right now, is that my family says they care, but their actions are the opposite. They never call to see how I am feeling and when I tell them they are full of the normal platitudes of saying they are sorry and wish there was something they could do to help, but there just isn’t. Having our family treat you the way you would expect someone to treat a stranger or vague acquaintance doesn’t help me feel better, and I doubt it would anyone else either.

I don’t have anyone who is there for me when I have to spend all day in bed sick, and now I am facing not having a bed to stay in all day when I am sick. Because of my unpaid medical leave, and the previous sickness of the past several months, I have no ability to pay my rent. I have one week to come up with the $600 I need to keep a roof over my head.

My only leads on this money is to sell my cameras, my guitars, and my great aunts antique white gold watch. Unfortunately, even if I sell all these things, which individually are worth more than my rent, I will not be able to make the $600 I need. I might get $100 for the watch, about $200 for my guitars, and then $80 for my camera. Which leaves me needing just over $200 to stay in my apartment for one more month.

I’m at my ropes end. I don’t see a way out of this, and I don’t know how I can possibly come up with the money I need before I lose my home. I am so tired of fighting for my place and my voice to be heard in this world, only to get sick and lose it, or be labeled as crazy and undeserving.

If any of you out there have any ideas of how I can get through this and not be living in my car, please comment and let me know. I am out of ideas, maybe someone out there will have something better than I have been able to come up with.

If you comment is “I’m sorry, wish I could help,” just liking the post would be better. I can’t take anyone else saying that they wish they could help or knew what to do, because they feel they need to say something.

Sorry for being dramatic, but this is a very real and very serious problem I am having and being out of options I am reaching out. If anyone knows a way to help me please let me know.

Saturday Blues


Today, I feel lost and alone. I really want to be held, which is odd for me. I want to feel special, and like things are really going to work out. My heart is heavy and I feel trapped by my surroundings. Trapped in my own skin. My soul it trying to reach out to someone or for something and I don’t know who, or what.

Today is a day of unrest. Outrage over any injustice, I want to feel safe, loved, and alive. I instead feel unsure, alone, and not quite real.

Nothing makes sense right now. I’m not anxious or afraid, just trapped and alone with my own thoughts. Everyone’s anger and frustration like a hot needle piercing my brain and making me want to hide, but I don’t want to be alone. I need hope. But it’s not something you can buy at the store. I need no more judgements. I need honest love and companionship. Someone who I don’t mind holding me, who sees through the bullshit into the person that I am and doesn’t need me to talk an won’t think there is something wrong with me if I don’t. I’m tired of just talking. I need results and a way to get them. And now I need a cigarette. I guess it will be an evening run to Walgreens, that’s what I get. I wonder if they sell answers or solutions. I think they just sell band-aids.

What He Wanted


He wanted me to smell like flowers. It was a strong bouquet, a scent which he had bought for another woman. The scent gave him the privilege of controlling the last piece of me that was my own within the strange hypersexualized world we had created for ourselves. It gave me a headache. Taking away not only the scent of me, but my senses as well.

Thoughts blurred by pain, physical and emotional. Thoughts freed by pleasure, physical and emotional.

We lost ourselves in our roles. Minutes, hours, seconds. Seconds became an eternity and time seemed to move at its own pace and last forever before moving forward. In those moments where I smelled like flowers I could be everything and nothing.

These moments ended, by the woman for whom the scent was purchased. The one who was enough to loves in another, more tangible way. The one that gives birth to a new life, even though it wasn’t the right time, it as her he wanted. The girls who preferred flowers to musk. She who had long hair and always remembered her lipstick.

I was never me he wanted. It was what I gave him that made him stop and crave, but not me, never for me. I learned these things in the months that followed, when my scent was once again my own, yet my thoughts had yet to return. Hijacked by the lingering of flowers on the breeze.

I gave him more than my body in those hours spent in his room. While we hid from the world I gave him pieces of me that I had longed to shed, but had not known I needed to lose. And in a way, he did the same.

I do not know where he is now. I couldn’t say if he is in her arms, or if he will be in mine again. I don’t know what I mean to him, or what he truly means to me. I just know that he would want me to smell like flowers.

Normality


A painting I made for a boy who made me feel special, and for a few weeks like I wasn't alone
A painting I made for a boy who made me feel special, and for a few weeks like I wasn’t alone

I don’t feel real today. I feel like a shadow of myself. I have only spoken aloud to one person and that was to buy cigarettes. I am sleepy but not tired. And I feel off. Not sick just off.

I don’t know whats wrong with me. I feel as if everything is wrong, and I don’t know how to fix it. Like I broke something that should be really important, but I am not sure what it was, so I can’t fix it. I think this is part of being alone. I spend too much time alone.

I know as a writer, it is important to spend time alone. The craft in itself is a solitary act, but there comes a point when you aren’t writing anymore and you are just sitting in your house staring at anything thing that will make it sound like normal life is happening around you. Everyone else has their lives going on and I seem to be left as a side thought, or nothing at all.

I don’t know how to make my life the one I want it to be, but I continue to feel each day as if I am living someone else’s life, that this one doesn’t belong to me, and I don’t know why I’m here. It’s a weird feeling, but coupled with being alone it is pretty damn depressing to think about.

I almost feel that dating is pointless. I don’t want to try to create another relationship with someone who probably only wants to sleep with me. I just want companionship. A warm body in my vicinity. I want to feel a sense of normalcy in my life. Instead I feel like a broken robot.

I met a great guy and within one month things got screwed up. And I had hoped he could be the one who would make me feel normal again, or at least normal for me. And for a couple weeks he did. Then it got weird, and I still don’t understand why. I break every relationship eventually. The ones I haven’t are miracles, and I am glad for them, but there are few of those left.

I am emotional and often irrational.   But I am fun and goofy, if I am comfortable enough with the person to let that show. However, too often I am not. So I am nervous and unapproachable. I am broken, but that doesn’t mean I should have to be alone. This is not a true choice for me. I just don’t know how to be with someone anymore. I don’t trust people anymore. I am always looking for their end game. What is it that they truly want out of the relationship. Is it me, or my body, or something I can give them. It’s rarely me. It usually my body, and I feel more often than not these days that I have nothing left to give. So that probably why things got messed up. I am closed off, distrustful, and feel I have nothing to offer.

I know that somewhere in me is the person who I am, and that person has tings to offer. I just need the time to let her out. It takes time for me to gain normalcy in a relationship of any kind.

Maybe I just shouldn’t date. I can’t stand to be alone anymore, but nobody can stand to be with me.

A crazy I am forced to embrace so that I can understand how to break the cycle.

Where Do We Start… and End?


It has been a long time since I felt comfortable to be myself around someone new. I finally found that person, but things got strained and difficult really quickly. I will not lay the blame on him, I believe that this is mostly my fault, however I will say that it usually takes more than one person for conflict to arise.

He was super sweet and waited almost a month to finally meet me in person because I have been sick, and well I still am. That is one of the problems. I was having a good week when we met and our first date was fun and our second date lasted 40 hours. Then it was back to work, stress, and then my stomach problems came back.

Now I haven’t been talking much about my recent sickness. That is maybe because it isn’t a recent illness, just the most recent flare up. I am in the process of getting a confirmed diagnosis for gastro-paresis. If you don’t know what it is, it sucks. I am sick to my stomach all of the time, I can hardly eat and all kinds of social and environmental factors play a part. Basically to not have a flare up I have to never be under any stress, ever, at all. Now having my diagnosis currently of and anxiety disorder with OCD personality traits, this is a flat out impossibility. I can’t go through a day without something stressing me out, and it is usually little things. Like my computer not working right, or traffic being bad. Normal everyday stress that for a normal person is a minor irritation, takes medication to control not just for my brain, but also for my stomach.

When I get stressed, I get sick. This causes more anxiety, which causes more sick, and the cycle continues. The only way out is to get away from my stressors. Sometimes that means I can’t drive. Other times, well it is impossible. People have to work, but for someone like me the simple act of walking into a job where I might get stressed, so I might get sick puts me on guard, makes me nervous, and eventually leads to where I am now. Trying desperately to prove to my employers that I realy have a disease, and that I’m not making it up.

Now where does the boy come into all this, well we had so much fun the first two weeks we hung out that y stress went down and I started to get better. Then I got stressed out at work, and I vented to him, and we had a couple bad nights and things got awkward, and now we don’t know how to talk to one another, and he wants to be just friends. While there is much more to this, and will get its own post, I will say that it was bad timing. Today I needed desperately to distress after being confronted with the very real possibility that I may soon be unemployed, and I thought he would be the perfect fun relaxed person to distress with. Instead he tried to help me in another way. Which caused me to get upset again and I was ultimately unable to explain things the way I wanted, which again leads me here.

I truly appreciate it when people try to give me advice about things I struggle with. However, let me get through the emotional moment first. Now this could be a moment or a few hours, depending on my percentage of bad brains that day. And this is changing too. I never thought that someone could recover from mental illness, just learn how to live with it. Now I believe that for someone us it changes over time. Which makes sense why my greatest shrink refused to give me a diagnosis. But I got one anyway, and it has changed. I have gotten both better in some things and worse in others. Which equals a whole new diagnosis, and while I know it’s not bi-polar, I’m pretty sure I know what it is, and it isn’t one that I want to fully embrace yet.

I do know that I have been sick, and alone and this makes me depressed. I stress out to the point where I have dissociative anxiety attacks, something I haven’t done in years, and this scares me too. It is scary to know that you live with something that can only be controlled to a point. Something within you that you fight every day, just to make the rational choice and not the impulse that will just make things worse. I don’t always win, but I feel that on the ones I used to lose I’m gaining decent control. Others I am still working on.

I don’t know if I can save my job. I’m going to go to the doctor and try to get into a specialist ASAP for my tummy problems. I am going to consider increasing my anxiety medication for a short time to help with the stomach problem as well. It is very convenient that I’m prescribed something which is given for both disorders. And I’m going to talk to my crazy doctor about my depression problems and the disassociation and see if there is anything that can be done there. I’m not keeping my hopes up that the boy will come around, but I hope he keeps reading this, and will see that I am taking his advice to heart, that I’m reaching for the bootstraps, and I’m doing the best I can. I hope everyone else sees that too.

I don’t want to go through this alone, and I know there are a few of you out there who are there for me both in my personal life and in your comments, and I thank you. This is another long journey, and I can’t do it without support.

So embrace the crazy you have today, even if it is different than it was yesterday, and especially if it rambles along as much as this post.