I am home! And exhausted! And I need to Ramble Post!

We made it home just fine. I am still exhausted from the heat and Benadryl. I have not been on that much Benadryl in a long time. I woke up each morning and took 50 mg of Benadryl. Then every drink I had (Pepsi, water, coffee, etc) had a 50 mg Benadryl mixed into it. And there were still days that my tongue and throat felt like it was swelling. My ankles and feet swelled from the heat so much that I could not put my crocs on. Don’t judge me. I have them for when my feet swell. Only I ended up wearing slipper socks because my feet wear so swollen my oversize crocs were too tight.

I spent most of the time in the apartment either crocheting, browsing Facebook, or playing Minecraft… and becoming seriously depressed. I spent a lot of time choking down tears and reminding myself that it was temporary and I would be going home soon. I have to say, the semi-colon project popped into my head a lot. I wasn’t suicidal! I want to stress that. Sometimes the semi-colon just reminds me that I can keep going because I have done it again and again… and when it looks horrible, it will get better.

Which brings me to this week. I am coming down off the Benadryl. I lost 3 pounds since I got home two days ago. I feel better pain wise and swelling wise but I still hurt enough that I am still choking down tears… even on Marijuana. I think I need to take extra doses. If I had the money, I would do that.

Today I have am appointment about my swelling and I am going to talk to my doctor about how I can’t get up for too long without my ankles swelling. I’ll see how it goes.

Wednesday I will be a bundle of nerves. I have my disability hearing. I just wonder how much Dr Vindictive screwed me over with his calling all my doctors, lying, and labeling me with a mental illness I don’t have.  I keep hearing, “Oh you will get it this time! No problem!” But I am really disheartened and I have a seriously hard time believing it. If I don’t get disability, well, I will cry for about a week and then I’ll get my big girl panties on and… plan on homelessness. I do have a year or two before it will become a reality. I will have to file bankruptcy. I would say I would be hitting rock bottom but I am already there. I’ll just have to start decorating the bottomless pit and call it “no hope/ no job/ and no one will hire me”.

So, either the blog will start directing to more happy things that make me smile or I’ll start posting my preparedness of getting my van ready to live in. I am actually looking forward to it. No sarcasm. I have worked myself into excitement over the idea of living in a smaller space that will be easier to keep up with and having my own smaller home.

On Thursday I have therapy. I am going to be a bundle of nerves. This month has been hell on me. I have no idea of my future and I do not like asking for help.

I am still trying to think of things I can do to make money. Serious things. I am crocheting but if I made a scarf, I would have to sell it for like $50 to make any money at it. None of them really made it affordable for the buyer and NO ONE here wants to pay for your time, much less the materials. So I figured the prices at minimum wage ($8.05 here), $10 an hour, and $15 an hour. If it’s $8.05 then I will add in the material prices (of the yarn, I already have needles). At the other two, I will just eat the cost of materials.

A dishcloth took me an hour to make. I don’t think any dishcloth is worth $8.05 or $10 or $15. I may be undervaluing myself or my skill but would you buy a dishcloth for $8?

A scarf took me about four hours to make. Would you pay $32 for a scarf? Or $40? Or $60?

I decided to make a fun little lap blanket. It has taken me DAYS to make. By the time I am finished, my price just for my time will be something like $320 or $400 or $600. No one is going to buy a lap blanket for that price. Or would they?

I am just feeling like a failure. Well, not really a failure because I know I have talent and I do think I do a good job at things but nothing I do will realistically make me enough money to actually pay my bills.

I get really excited once in a while about something but it quickly fades as I realize the amount of opposition I am up against. Unless I charge like $3 an hour, I am not going to sell anything. I would have to live in my van anyway.

And if I don’t get disability, I am going to feel like a complete failure. I tried finding a job. But no one will hire me (I wouldn’t hire me). I tried applying at three places I know hire disabled people. They won’t even hire me because I am too much of a liability.

I tried pep talks like, “You can do it! You can find SOMETHING you can do for work… Hell, even your aunt with Downs Syndrome has a job.” Then it dawned on me. Even my relatives with disabilities have jobs and I am still over here like, “Hey can I borrow another $5? I ran out of soap and toilet paper.”

I am depressed. I’ll be totally honest. I cry a lot these days. My eyes burn from the tears now. But I keep thinking it will get better. The only thing is, it doesn’t get better. Talent is nice and all but it doesn’t pay the bills. Sure, I can make cool things but I wouldn’t make enough money to keep a cheap apartment much less pay the bills.

So… Wednesday either I can calm down and relax or I have a good breakdown and then plan to be homeless. Either way, I am due for a really good cry with snot bubbles and all.

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50 Questions: The Last Thing That Made Me Cry

 What is the last thing that made you cry?

Here is an easy question with a very easy answer. The last thing that made me cry was back pain. While medical marijuana is nice for helping with pain, there are times when I wake up, or I move wrong, or I walk one step too far where I go from “manageable pain” to “oh dear GAWD! Make it stop!” within just a few minutes. Yesterday was one of those days. I sat down too fast and the pain started screaming.

Yes, I sat down too fast. That is why my pain went from a 5 to an 8 within minutes and there you have it. Not the most exciting question to answer or anything.

SQUIRREL ALERT!

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SQUIRREL!

My coffee is almost done brewing for the morning and I have to say, I am so proud of myself! I thought I was going to need to buy more coffee before my food money for the month got here but I have JUST enough to make it until food money day! YAY! Go frugal me!

Back to the original post

Most people won’t understand this if they aren’t living in chronic pain. I have Fibromyalgia and it makes my days very painful. I take marijuana for it (tincture in the morning, vape in the evening) and while I love it and I love living in a pain reduced life, some days just suck worse than others. 

I still can’t go and do the things I have wanted to do for a while. There is no camping (yet) or long walks or running and playing. We don’t have a pool here for swimming so my exercise is a but limited right now. But it’s still a hell of a lot better than what it was. I am not crying every day anymore. I just have those days where my body just snaps and yells, “I HATE YOU!” That was yesterday.

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50 Questions: A Deep Dark Secret

Share a secret you’ve never told anyone. Until now…

I was pondering this question for a while. I am an open and honest person. Sometimes to the point of it being a fault of mine. If you ask me a question, I will tell you the answer. It might not be the answer you were looking for, but I will tell you anyway. After all, you asked for it! So, I thought about all the secrets I could tell you guys.

Had a son who died because I took him off life support… nope, already told that.

All my medical conditions… talk about them all the time.

My children… talk about them all the time too.

My ex… talk about him some too.

There really isn’t anything very secretive about me at all. And then I had a conversation with someone (who wishes not to be named on my blog) about life, death, poverty, and self-image; and it hit me! I know what secrets I am going to share. I say secrets because they go hand in hand. Get the happy pills ready… here we go!

Death is not an end

This isn’t really a huge secret. Many people believe in an afterlife. But I do remember things that aren’t from this life. I remember them vividly. I have had out of body experiences and near death experiences. I can tell you that is what shaped my beliefs, partly. This is why I would never commit suicide. You can kill your body, but the soul continues on and you will be reborn into something or someone. Your energy is what makes you who you are. Not so much the body. The body is just a physical experience you claim before you are born.

Call me crazy all you want but, I warned you about that when I called my blog “Crazy Woman’s Journal“.

Let’s say you have a shitty life and you decide to off yourself. You will get to redo the life over again. Maybe not the exact same life, but one with similar problems. You can get a new life here in this time or in an alternate universe. It won’t matter if you kill yourself because you will get to redo it over and over until you live the life you are supposed to complete.

Analogy time! Your life is a series of books…

It would be like if your life were a series of books. You were reading through the books and decided in book 3 that you didn’t want to read them anymore and threw them in the trash. You went to the life library and picked a new set of books and started reading. But damn it! These books are following the same story line as the last series. You toss that set in the trash too and go back for another series to read.

This next series is JUST like the last two series. Same type of characters, same settings, and I swayer to you, the story is the same as the first two. Only this time you begrudgingly finish reading the series to learn something amazing, some life altering experience that you didn’t expect.

So, while the books sucked at first, and droned on in some areas, and one chapter just described a cat’s fur, the story line (as a whole) has a purpose.

That purpose sometimes sucks

While some lives are meant to change something or be amazing, other lives are a form of punishment. I call this idea “The Good, the bad, and the ugly”.

The Good

Some people get to have amazing lives with “demons” they still have to battle or overcome. They might create a mega-company that changes the world. They might become doctors who revolutionize cancer treatments. They might be some guy who discovers something great but it’s not recognized in this life. They might be an artist who touches many. There are so many great lives people can live.

The Bad

Then there are the shitty lives where you just seem to suffer, can never get ahead, or spend the rest of your life in jail or as a slave. These lives aren’t pointless though. They have meaning too. They serve a purpose. Sometimes they are for you to learn some lesson about hardship.

Like, how to live frugally… or how to survive in the mountains after a government overthrow… or how to live homeless… or how you can survive living in chronic pain even though it sucks ass… or to teach you to stand up for yourself when you have lived an oppressed life… or how to change your way of thinking and not be so closed-minded… or a chance to fight in a revolution and help make a change.

The Ugly

It can also be a punishment. It’s a life meant for paying a karmic debt, for lack of a better word.

Let’s say that you had a life where you decided to try making lamp shades out of your friend’s skin and stew out of there brains and vital organs. In that life, you got away with it and caused a lot of pain to many people, not just the one’s you killed off and consumed. Their families, their friends, the community, the state, the nation… everyone who was effected by your murderous, carnivorous, interior decorating spree adds to your karmic debt.

If, in that life, you were caught, went to jail, found remorse, and tried to better yourself; your karmic debt would be less. But that life, you managed to evade police, killed a puppy or ten for fun, set random fires that no one linked to you, and basically were just a psychopathic asshole. Your karmic debt would probably follow you through several lives of becoming Mother Teresa or Princess Di before you would be out of karmic debt.

Not all karmic debt if that extreme though. Sometimes you just suffer through a disease but end up beating it because your karmic debt is paid. Or you have a series of bad things happen but nothing that sends you to a padded room. It’s things that you survive and make it through… and then you help others get through the same thing and your karmic debt gets better each time.

Basically, it’s complicated.

Deep Dark Secret #2: My Karmic Debt

I sometimes jokingly say that whatever I did in my last life must have been horrible to deserve such a shit life like this. But honestly, I don’t think it was really that bad because I could have it much worse. 

I do honestly think that this life is here as part of a karmic debt and part as a lesson that I have not figured out yet. Whatever I did in a past life wasn’t heinous like the murderous example above but it hurt a lot of people nonetheless and now I am paying my debt.

I am assuming here… It probably has something to do with medical since I am living with so many medical problems and I have a hard time with doctors treating me horrible. It probably has something to do with affection since I have trouble bonding with people. Or maybe those are just random forms of punishment that were doled out it has nothing to do with that at all.

Anyway, I do believe that this life is a punishment (for lack of a better word) where I am paying my karmic debt. I have trouble seeing myself as anything good which, I think, is part of the debt. People tell me I am talented, amazing, and all sorts of amazing things but I just can’t see it. I wish that for one day, I could see myself through someone else’s eyes.

Here is a minor example. I drew this picture of my cat, Sweetie. People say it is amazing and I did a great job. I don’t see it. I don’t see why it is so good. I can see all my mistakes though.

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I think the disconnection I feel is just a part of my karmic debt. I can connect just enough so that I am not completely isolated emotionally. But, if I bond with someone or get close to them, they are taken away in one form or another. I am supposed to be alone this life (this much I know). At some point I may bond with someone and they won’t disappear, and then I will know my karmic debt is paid. It may not happen in this life. If it doesn’t, then I know it will happen early in my next life and we will be very close.

Until then, I only have enough bonding to keep me from going insane. When I meet a person that I instantly feel like I could bond with, I find myself pushing them away. Not because I don’t want to have a bond with people but because I don’t want my friends to keep dying off at an amazing rate and in violent manners. I imagine that the person who pushes back and won’t go away… I imagine that is the person that will help me see my worth and finally have my debt paid.

So, if you are my friend and wonder why I tend to run away and not get close to you, this is why. It’s my punishment. And I am sorry for it but I don’t know how to change it, or make it better, or make my friends stop disappearing, or make them stop dying, or make them stay without clinging to them so much that they start to hate me. But mostly, I am sorry.

I don’t know what karmic debt I am repaying but I hurt someone really bad and now, I am paying for it with this life. There are no words that can convey my sorrow.

New Neighbors, Pain Relief, and Trying to Get Motivated.

I haven’t posted lately because my meds have me knocked out. But, with new meds comes relief from the ever grinding, relentless pain. Remember when I posted about giving my pain a number? Well, I can honestly say that this makes it easier to pick a number. I am not in agonizing pain all day and my mood is improving dramatically because of it. I able to load the whole dishwasher, do some laundry (a light load), fold clothes, clean the bathroom, tidy the house a little… you know, feel useful and like I am doing something. I didn’t complete everything all in one round but hey, anything is better than sitting and playing online all day!

Now that I am on the right meds (Gabapentin, 800 mg of ibuprofen, and Methocarbomal) I can totally tell the nerve pain from the muscle spasm pain and arthritis pain. VERY different. Continue reading