Yes, I've been quite the absentee. What a difference from the days of old when I was pouring my heart out practically on a daily basis. That was back when I had so much to figure out, so many feelings swirling and whirling and trying to feel my way through the hard stuff of bellying right up to my trauma and trying to walk past with my head held high. There were all these relationships with other people to navigate and they didn't fit any normal sort of blueprint that I'd ever encountered. They were all their own special type of dysfunctional that I'd not encountered before. I'm used to full blown abusive, not such passive aggressive stuff. But anyway, I digress.

The past few months have been hard for me, really hard, and I'm not just talking physical symptoms. (Those have sucked too, though; seems that the pain does nothing but increase month by month and I don't understand that at all.) I've had tons of doctor's appointments and tests and I'm burning through money like crazy just trying to get to the appointments and pay the current copays, not even catching up on back payments. That is a discouraging thing to have hanging over your head, especially when you know just how many zeroes are tacked onto the end of that storm cloud. If it weren't for my dad, I'd be completely out of the game by now-- no tests, no diagnoses, no traveling, no nothing. He's a lifesaver. In addition to that, several others have given me a few hundred total this past week and that makes such a huge difference. It makes me think that paying all those bills off might even be possible!

So to the new news that had me so down… I've got an official dx as of a week and a half, two weeks ago, and it's that I'm dealing with EDS for sure. The nice geneticist woman put me on the border between Classic and Type 3 "Hypermobile", but really it's just a matter of clinical fiddling one way or the other, so I guess I'm Classic with hypermobility? Yeah, either way it's a shitty thing to have to deal with. I don't doubt that the rheumatologist's decree of arthritis is wrong, either, because I'm feeling it more and more as time wears on. The weather affects me so drastically now in my joints that I could claim to be elderly if I weren't so young and hot on the outside. Heh. But oh, speaking of young and hot, I'm losing weight! It's visible and noticeable, not only to myself but to others. I'm so relieved and gratified to see that the efforts that I'm able to make are finally paying off.

The Ehlers Danlos, though, just really hit me and left me… numb. Stunned. Pissed. I'm so angry that I have another thing to deal with, and it's something serious that I have to be very aware and wary of my entire life. I can't ever forget about it, because it could seriously kill me, if not just seriously injure me in a split second of carelessness or a mistake. And my dream of someday carrying children? I can kiss that goodbye, even if I weren't permanently on meds that made that a far-fetched notion. The hormones secreted in pregnancy relax the joints and make it possible for them to expand, but my connective tissues are already so loose and whacked out that I'd probably dislocate both hips just standing up and walking, if I didn't rupture something internally. Even before I started having serious pain problems and the other junk--you know, when it was just endocrine and food allergy probs-- I wasn't able to carry a pregnancy past a month or so. Long enough to know I was pregnant, and then they were gone. I know we can do a surrogate pregnancy, it's just… I wanted to experience that. I wanted to carry my husband's child, you know? It's not fair. I'm such a naturally maternal person, and I'm denied the first great joy of motherhood. Hell, I'm worried about creating a family at all anymore, since I know that the state of my health isn't likely to improve much. Oh sure, when we find the autoimmune diseases affecting me and treat those I will start to feel better, but this is a genetic disease and now that it's hit full force it's not likely to back off. For instance, just the other day I had some skin just split open on me. That's not an uncommon thing for me-- the bottoms of my toes used to split open frequently as a girl and into my early teen years. This time it was the skin under one of my breasts, so that was kinda weird, but it happens often to the creases on the side of my fingers as well. Anywhere there's already a crease on my body, it's likely that it'll split open at some point with varying degrees of severity. The split toes were rather deep and would always bleed, but the split under breast was just slight and raw, but very obviously a gap in the skin and painful. That's just part of having crappy connective tissues, I guess.

For anyone who wants a quick explanation of Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and the symptoms, etc., check out these couple of sites. There are a ton of things out on the internet about EDS, but I just grabbed a few that I thought explained it the most clearly and succinctly.

http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/ehlers-danlos-syndrome/basics/definition/con-20033656

- This is a good, easy summarized review, but definitely not in depth at all.

http://ghr.nlm.nih.gov/condition/ehlers-danlos-syndrome

This one is more scientific, but gives a great, rather short explanation of all the facets. Thorough but concise. It even explains how it's inherited, which makes me less worried about Kelsey's chances to inherit it as well, since we have different dads.

http://www.ednf.org/eds-faqs#Gene

And last but not least, here are some FAQ's from the Ehlers-Danlos National Foundation itself.

Of course, I learned a bunch by reading through all the websites, though I hadn't bothered to read up on it much until the other day. I guess I was just stunned, kinda in denial. Ever since the rheumatologist in December, actually, I'd just been in a funk. Just knowing how friggin' serious all of this is… it's so much more than "just" fibromyalgia. But you know what? I learned that the difference between a syndrome and a disease is that the doctors and scientists know the origin of the disease and the likely course of progression. A syndrome simply means that its cause is unknown, so it's a collection of symptoms that could turn into something labeled a "disease" if more knowledge surfaces. That's all. So to those folks who write fibromyalgia off as "nothing", not a big deal, or something piddly because it's "just a syndrome" and "not really a disease", I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries.

Right now I'm killing time until I head to Phoenix in a few hours for a sleep-deprivation EEG test and a meeting with my psychiatrist. I'm still having troubles with hearing voices, music, and seeing things despite the medication that I'm on. The EEG is to test for epilepsy in the twitches that I have primarily when tired and falling asleep, see what's going on with my darn brain waves. Yeah. I got all kinds of stuff going on. I tell you what, I have not been happy to be forcing myself to stay awake, especially since I've been needing anywhere from 8-16 hours of sleep a day for a couple of months now at least. So staying awake? Hah!

Sigh. Just making everyday life work has been tough, but that's what I am-- tough as nails. The Robot Corey and I are getting along well, plugging along and making ends meet as best as possible. We still have our days and moments, our struggles, but I doubt we'd be human if that weren't the case… especially considering the heavy stress we're constantly under. He has it in his head that he really, really wants a backyard forge, and I'm completely supportive. It'll take several hundred dollars to get all the materials together, and I am encouraging him to use whatever extra funds he can scrape together to do it. He needs a hobby, and he likes to make things. He just hasn't had the space or the money at the same time in order to get it rolling, but I think that now is a good time.

Ah, the time has nearly come for me to jump up and get dressed. The hardest part will be staying awake on the road-- I always fall asleep in moving vehicles!  Well, here's hoping for good news. I could sure use some after all of this craziness. I'll be back with a cheerful post one of these days, you mark my words. It just takes some time to get used to the hammer blows. Heck, it was a good week before I could even let myself think about the EDS diagnosis for more than a split second without tearing up and crying. As I said, though, I am tough as nails, and I'll get through this… pissed off, beat up, limping from cushioned seat to cushioned seat and scrubbing tears furiously from my face, but I'll still make it. Watch me.

So my mom is bipolar.

Yeah, that kind of threw me for a loop as well. I guess it makes sense… but the funny/weird part is that I've been questioned several times on whether I am bipolar or not as well. My psychiatrist, though, says he thinks not. I'm just very… expressive, and I have a wide range of emotions. *Whew!*

And my sister is back in the hospital, because her drug counselor felt that with all of the stressors in her life right now she might swing towards suicidal tendencies again, so he advised her to check herself in while she was still doing "okay". That makes sense, I suppose. Kind of like a preemptive strike. I'm really glad she's getting the help she needs; I hope Mom can, too.

As far as real life goes, I've been sleeping most of the past 2 days. Drogo's truck A/C went out Monday while we were running errands at the peak of the day (just how the timing worked out), and it was probably 111. The heat really got to me, it would seem, because when we came home I went to bed and didn't really get back up until today midmorning. I found out when I woke up around 11:30 last night that Drogo's truck broke on the way home from work. Fortunately, the parking lot he pulled into, which was literally the next available turn he could take, was the lot of his brother's apartment complex! Fortuitous, no? At any rate, that has me kinda panicked because I've got an emergency appt with my pain doc tomorrow, and it's going to be $120 at least. 

We are literally hand to mouth right now; I don't know how we're going to pull this off… except that the mechanic Drogo goes to is real good friends with Drogo's dad and holds the whole family in high esteem, so I think they'll do a payment plan. Just like the chiropractor I've had to see a couple of times in the past week and a half-- he was a teacher of mine while I was studying for massage therapy, so he is extending me a special circumstance payment plan dealie. I was his best student, and we've always gotten along well, plus I trust him as a doctor more than any other chiropractor in this town. Did I mention that I figured out I had subluxated my ribs along my mid back while I was in the hospital? I don't know how you can knock your ribs out while just laying there, but the bed was kinda hard… And then yesterday, while sleeping, I did something to my hip. I'm hoping it's just a pulled muscle and that I didn't subluxate that, too! Wouldn't surprise me, though, with the type of EDS that I suspect I have.

So that's me and my woes. Life is good, though. Drogo is still working, we've got food and so do the cats, and they are hilarious and the light of my life. Gramma will be taking me to the pain doctor tomorrow, and her car is fairly comfy, but the best part is that I know for certain she'll cover gas expenses! Their car is pretty new, and it's nice, so it gets good mileage. Besides, we couldn't take Drogo's truck now even if we wanted to, and it was an emergency appt so he doesn't have the time off. It'll be good to have Gramma with me. She's new to the world of chronic illness and pain, but she and Grampa have both been troopers. She has been with me during several very disappointing and unsatisfactory appointments so she knows the emotions of that, and it was while I was staying with them after the hospital that I found the intractable pain clinic that gave me so much hope and led me to this pain doc. I was legitimately crying tears of happiness, hope, and relief when I brought the information in to tell Gramma and Grampa about it, so it'll be neat for her to come along and actually see the fruits of that.

I accomplished several things this morning, and I'm tired again, so I think I'll tuck in for a bit of a nap. Fingers crossed about my appointment tomorrow! I sincerely hope we can find a combination that both controls my pain and doesn't shred my intestines all bloody.

Oh, hey, real quick-- I wore my tiara to the chiropractor's because it was a tough day, and on the way out his wife/the secretary gave me a magic wand to go with it! It's an iridescent pink fabric heart with some pink ribbon streamers on a slim, pink ribboned dowel. I intend to bling it up further, and take it with me when I go back of course. I just thought that was really cool of her. ^_^

So I'm basically tired of writing about my pain and sickness... but that's probably because a.) I'm tired of dealing with it myself, and b.) I'm afraid that anyone who reads this is tired of it as well. Like, geez, doesn't this girl do anything but moan and groan about how sick she is?

Not really, no. Heh.

In any event, I saw my rheumy yesterday-- finally! I made it through some days that I thought were impossible to make it through, which just goes to show that you can "handle" just about anything, no matter how painful it is. The inevitable passing of time sees to that, so long as you don't take matters into your own hands and end your suffering. I thought about it more than once, I will not lie. When you're hurting so badly... it's not that you necessarily want to die, it's just that you don't want to live that way any longer, and you're not sure if you can stand another minute without the prospect of relief.

Why do I love my rheumatologist? Because I feel like she takes me seriously. Maybe she's not the best out there. I don't know. I've never been to another. I figure why fix what isn't broken? I've taken to bringing a list with me of positive progress, negatives that have cropped up, and questions/issues I'd like to address with her. She listens patiently, explains where necessary, and always answers my questions. I wish there were one quick fix to what I'm going through, but we're still in experimentation mode, which means trying different levels of this med, trying that med, adding this one and eliminating that one... so, as of yesterday, I've got the go-ahead to wean myself off of Savella, the crazy expensive fibromyalgia med that doesn't really seem to be helping. I also wanted to get off the gabapentin (Neurontin), because I don't see any effect there at all, but she felt that upping the dose would be a beneficial experiment because not only would quitting it mean that she is then no longer really treating my fibro at all but also because I'm still on a fairly low dose and a higher dose may be what I need. I expressed my struggles with depression, and she is having me give Zoloft a try (I can't remember off the top of my head what the generic is called... something with an "S".)

In addition to fiddling with the meds, she swapped out my Tramadol for Tylenol (acetaminophen) with codeine. She says that maybe my body just needs a break from the Tramadol, so we can try it again later and see. So far, I'm so not impressed with the Tylenol 3's. They take forever to kick in, and while they last for a while it doesn't really take care of the pain in a significant manner. It will take it from intolerable to pretty tolerable or a little below, but it doesn't really take it down to a level that I feel is compatible with functional living. Maybe that's because my body is pretty intolerant to NSAIDs? Maybe I just need to learn better pain management/coping skills? Bleh. I'm going to give it a week and if I'm still unhappy with how it's working then I'm going to call the office and request a switch. (One of the questions I asked in the appointment was what her policy is on contacting the office with questions or concerns between appointments, and she pointed out that she didn't want me sitting at home in tears because of pain and I'm trying to tough it out until my next appointment... which means that I should have called. Hehe... oops.)

This new pain med is easier to get addicted to than the Tramadol, from what I understand, so it's to be taken in a reactionary way, not a preventative way. That means that I actually have to get to the point where I'm thinking, "I really can't take this pain anymore," before I take one. The problem I'm having is that I struggle with knowing when I ought to not take the pain anymore. My sense of pain levels is all skewed. I think I've mentioned that before. I suppose it varies from day to day, too. On days when I'm very fatigued, I'm more susceptible to pain than days when I'm energized and rested

She sees overall progress, though. She pointed out that it seems that I'm doing better with how I deal with my fibromyalgia, and she's right. Though I still struggle with depression more frequently than I'd like, overall I'm dealing better. I have a good support system, I'm getting more educated, and I'm learning to adapt to my new life. Also, one of the positives that I brought up was that I'm hardly stiff in the mornings at all anymore, if at all. Apparently, that's a sign that the Plaquenil is working, which means that I'm responding to treatment for the UCTD. Although she's reluctant to give me an official diagnosis of UCTD, the symptoms I'm exhibiting and the fact that I'm responding to treatment for it make her lean more strongly in that direction than she was even last time. The problem is that many of my symptoms could also be due to the fibro, as well. When it comes to stuff like this, the overlap is unbelievable, and it's difficult to work out what exactly is going on. I haven't even been dealing with this a year yet, so in relative terms I'm way ahead of the game. (Isn't that sad?) Many, many people spend years trying to get the initial diagnosis of fibromyalgia, and I got that dx on my very first rheum visit. I am fortunate, very fortunate. (There's always something to be grateful for, eh?)

The next few days will be spent adjusting to the new meds, crossing my fingers for minimal side effects, and preparing for my trip to Cali. I leave in just three days; four, if you count today. Fortunately, I spent the last two weekends dog/housesitting, so that will be my gas money.

Did I mention that C's truck broke down last weekend? I find it amusing, because my car is supposed to be the one on its last legs! His fuel pump just quit, out of the blue. We got it fixed, but the price ate up what we had tentatively set aside as our gas money for the trip to Id. It's not for sure that we can't go, as C has been working quite a bit of overtime lately, and will probably continue to do so, but it's not for sure that we can go, either. What a pickle to be in... We won't know for-sure-for-sure until closer to the date, but I hate to have J under the impression that I'm coming if I might have to back out later on... Yet on the same token, I don't want to have her wildly swinging on a roller coaster of "Are they coming or aren't they?" But we have to go, not just for J's wedding. I need to get my cat, and the rest of my things! Plus I want to show C off to all of my friends. That's a good reason, right?

Well... I'm going to attempt this sleep thing again. Maybe I'll shower first. That tends to wear me out. I took a Ty3 a while ago, so that should be kicking in... in an hour or so. Hmph. Again, so not impressed. Here's hoping those painkillers get their act together!

I'm stressed 'cause I'm depressed... or is it that I'm depressed because I'm stressed? Or maybe I'm both stressed and depressed for a different reason entirely? Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter... the reality of the two things is enough.

The day started off well enough. I got my hair cut, finishing out the transformation. That made me giddy, especially because I quite like how it turned out.

The purple is for fibromyalgia/lupus/abuse awareness, and the red is because it looked more awesome than teal on the swatches. Teal would have been pretty sweet, though. Next time.

While chopping bell peppers for my salad at lunchtime, I suddenly flashed back to a memory of D involving bell peppers, and I just lost it. I cried for a good 5 minutes, overcome with grief. Then I was okay, but still sad.

I worked today, very hard. I like work. It makes me feel like a useful, contributing member of society... like I can actually still do something, you know? And my boss values my work very much. She considers me invaluable, actually. I know I will never be replaced unless I should actually choose to leave. But now I am tired... more tired than is reasonable for the amount and type of work that I did, and that's... frustrating.

I stopped by the bank on the way home and started the process of trying to get a personal loan, which is terrifying because I will have to pay it back and I don't have that kind of money... but I have to get this car thing taken care of. There is no postponement option. I hate being in debt. Hate, hate, hate it! And I feel like I'm in so much debt... That stupid credit card that has saved my butt so many times... I'm trying desperately to pay it off, throwing everything I have at it, but it still doesn't go away. It pisses me off that I'm in this situation, honestly.

And then I called R to see if he was comfortable co-signing the loan (he's not, which is fine), and we ended up in a conversation about the stress and troubles of life back home. Without going into details... it's troubling to me. I know that's their thing, and there's nothing I can or should do, but I still just want to see everyone happy and healthy, and right now that's not the case.

So it's the end of the day, and I have work I could be working on, but I'm all worked out. I'm tired, and I hurt, and my painkillers are barely taking the edge off, and I'm nauseous, and my guts are cramping, and it's been this way all day... and the day before... and the days before that... and I'm just getting really sick and tired of being sick and tired all the damn time. It gets so old, so fast.

I want to move as many of the smaller things to the new house as I can tomorrow, and put the boxes and stuff already there in their appropriate rooms (most of which I've already done, but the last few loads were just dumped in the living room), but... I can't do it by myself. I know that I will just make myself very, very sick, and I can't afford to do that. I asked a friend to help me, but she can't tomorrow, so I don't know what to do. It's frustrating to have a job that needs to be done that I could have done in the past, but now I'm helpless. It pisses me off, frankly. And it depresses me. I just want to sit down in the middle of the floor and cry. Tears of frustration, anger, and sadness. Like a little kid who needs a nap. I need the world's longest nap, and I need to wake up from the nap all better.

I seriously considered telling R today that I'm not going to doctors anymore, that I'm getting off of my medicines and whatever happens, happens. I am so tired of being a financial burden to him, like an anchor around his neck. I never wanted this... I may still make that decision. Like, after this run of acupuncture is done, I don't want to ask R to do it again. It's thousands of dollars for the long-term treatment plan, and I can't do it. I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't do this anymore...

No more doctors. No more medicines. Just me, curled up in bed, hoping to make it through another day with my sanity intact.

My life is fucked.

I'm sorry. I told you I was feeling stressed and depressed. I have no "it'll all be okay" optimism left in me right now, and I can't fake any of those inspirational life lessons. I got nothin'.

What did I do to ever deserve this? I must have been a kitten killer in another life. They say karma's a bitch, but I really wish she'd tell me what I did wrong before she slaps me. I probably killed kittens with other kittens, and then killed those kittens with rainbows that I turned into drugs to sell to children.

I just really don't want to do this anymore. I could use some of those kitten-killing rainbow drugs, honestly...

Alright. I'm done bitching. 'Cause believe me... I could go on and on and on...

There have been a few interesting twists and turns of events in the past few days. I just haven't had the energy to think about them, only react in real-time.

So Tuesday was kind of a sad day, with this giant wall of "shoulds" looming over me that I felt in no way equipped to fight. I felt trapped by my body and my health problems, trapped by my financial situation, trapped by my living situation (more on that in a minute), like I was failing as an employee and a productive member of society, and just generally defeated.

See, it's one thing when the Should Monster (who bears a striking resemblance to the Cookie Monster) is stridently insisting upon one particular Should. It's a whole 'nother ball of wax when it feels like a veritable tidal wave of Should is bearing down upon you, and you can't pick out one particular thing to combat.

I can't be too hard on myself, though, because truly, I'm still learning how to pull out my tools and deal with this stuff. I'm not going to get it perfectly the first time, or every time for that matter. So I forgive myself for not immediately bouncing up and away from the sadness and the Shoulds and the defeated attitude.

Wednesday, I had my last session with my counselor. It was a good one, and I realized something interesting towards the end, beyond the things I already know. Like, I know that the Should Monster is handing me a load of crap and I need to stand up to it, and self-affirmations will help a ton in this regard; that I am afraid of either living up to or acknowledging and owning my awesomeness, because then I feel like I have to perform at this super-high level all the time and that just kind of sets me up for failure and disappointment, so it's better and easier to just put myself down all the time and operate under the premise of "I'm messed up, I'm sick, I'm so screwed up" all the time.

I learned that I perform in spurts. Seriously. This is how I operate best. Rather than having to be operating or performing at a certain level all the time (think 9-5 job, 5 days a week), I am way more productive and don't have meltdowns when I have a spurt of awesome (however long that lasts) and then can retreat into non-productive mode. Think artist, or wedding planner, or somesuch. Musician. Trapeze artist. Writer. Whatever. Being "on" all the time doesn't work for me. And realizing that is super freeing and empowering. Like, just realizing how I operate is... cool. Part of what's been such a downer about the struggle with work is that I "SHOULD" be able to do that 9-5 thing and make it work and get over myself and just survive, right? Dude, I'm just not wired that way. Even if I weren't sick, I would still hate it and get burnt out. Which I have. Again and again. And being frustrated by it because I couldn't understand what was going on.

I also realized that I tend to live so much in the present that it's hard for me to see past this moment. I know it's a little weird, because I have struggles with being fully present in the moment, but let me explain... It's like, whatever is happening now is how things will be forever. If I'm happy now, I will always be happy. If I'm sad now, I will always be sad. If I'm in a place of limbo (which I am), things will never change and it will always be like this and I've failed. If I'm succeeding, it will always be like this... and when it changes, I'm devastated. Destroyed. Because I must have done something wrong, or else it would have always been like that.

I have a hard time understanding on a very fundamental level the ebb and flow of life, the changing, and the fact that whatever is happening now... will not be this way forever.

Maybe it comes from the type of childhood I lived. When things are crazy and dysfunctional, you're not thinking of the future. You're reacting to right now, and this is all there is. "Right now" is your world, because you never, ever know how things are going to change in three seconds. They could stay the same (Daddy's happy. Good. He's been happy all afternoon. Good.), or they could change in the blink of an eye. (Daddy was happy, but then I made a noise and annoyed him and now he's really mad and I'm being punished and he'll be in a bad mood the rest of the night.) The present moment is your world.

So. Interesting things.

But I am learning, and growing, and learning how to wield my tools with yet more proficiency. I was sad about things ending with my counselor, but I'm grateful for all she taught me and showed me. It was really a good little phase, and I know I'll always remember her fondly.

So then I've been fighting Food Stamps for two weeks, 'cause they're playing these stupid games with me. They called me for my interview a couple of times during the time when I specifically wrote down that I was unavailable, and when I (finally!) got a hold of them again, they said they'd put me back on the call list. Days later, when I haven't heard anything, I call back and find out that they never actually put me back on the list. That happened several times. Finally, yesterday, I decided to go down there after school. It was the first day that my schedule allowed me to, so I figured I'd take advantage of it. Plus they'd pissed me off the day before. After another round of calling me during unavailable hours, my calling them and them promising to call me back that day, I called them just before closing and got put on hold... for over twenty minutes. Then they hung up on me and wouldn't answer the phone anymore. (Did I mention this isn't the first time they've put me on hold and then hung up on me?) I was ticked.

As I'm walking up the sidewalk to the Food Stamp building's front doors, my phone rings. It's them, and they're calling for my interview. So I talk to the lady while I'm standing in front of the building! Hah! Long story short? I don't qualify for Food Stamps, because I'm a student and I'm working less than twenty hours a week.

Now, let me get this straight.

You won't help me because I'm in a position where I need help?

Right. Because, the lady explains, food stamps are meant to be a supplement, not the sole source of support.

Yeah, okay, so supplement me. I don't need to be fully supported. If you only knew how I'd been scraping by...! I can make it with your supplement. I'm not asking for welfare, here.

So I explained that I'm physically incapable of working 20+ hours a week while in school, but it makes no difference.

The door is closed in my face.

So I did what any normal woman would do... I went to my car and I cried. Because I don't know how I'm going to survive. Food stamps are out, disability isn't an option at this point... work is a mess right now anyway, but I'm doing all I can there... I'm out of options, and the only thing I can do at this point is live off of my credit card.

So I cried.

Then I called my mom. And she sympathized, but had no ideas for me, except that C should be supporting me.

I've heard that from people before, and I disagree.

It's not that he won't help me out if I ask, because he will. He's proven it, and he's blatantly stated that he won't let me go hungry. That's great. But, though we are engaged... I am not his financial responsibility. I didn't move in with him so that he would take care of me. We never, ever agreed to that, and I refuse to place a burden of responsibility on him that doesn't belong there. Just like if I moved back in with Gramma and Grampa, it wouldn't be their responsibility to take care of me, just because I'm living with them, just because I'm their granddaughter. It doesn't work like that. So I guess I get a little up in arms when people question C's moral integrity for not "taking care" of me while I'm in my dire straits here, because it's like judging him for failing to do a job that's not his. You know?

So I thought about it all day, and I finally decided to bite the bullet. Unfortunately for me, I didn't even think of the fact that I'd had all day to mull it over and C had just gotten home from work and needed some time to decompress, because I just hit him with it right after he walked in the door! I apologized later-- it was thoughtless of me, and rude. He accepted the apology and told me it was fine. Whew.

Now, we've had several "serious" conversations the past few days. There was Tuesday, when I broke down crying because I felt like a failure. (He maintains that I'm not.) Then there was Wednesday, when I had realized from Tuesday's conversation about having space of my own and feeling like a hangers-on that it's really, really important to me that a.) I know that when the house is purchased that it's our house and not just his, and b.) it's really important to me that after we're married we have our own place and space (i.e. no roommates). That was a good convo, and it went well. And, yes, it will be OUR home, OUR house, not just his. It's hard for me to feel that way now, because he's the one putting all the finances toward it... but when we're married, we're partners. Equals. His house, my house. (Right now, in the bachelor apartment, my stuff is kind of socked away in convenient locations because I came along last. He was already settled, and so was S, so it's their place, it feels... I just happen to live here.) And I'll be the one decorating it and cleaning it and all that, so I think I will feel more ownership. Right now is just a weird time of trying to fit myself into convenient little gaps.

I explained what happened with the food stamps, and C was sympathetic. He was very upset on my behalf when they were being so frustrating, so I knew he'd understand my disappointment at being turned down. So then I told him how I went and cried, and then I just asked him... I asked him if he'd be willing to support me until I can graduate and get a job. I know it's bad timing, what with trying to save for a house, but I'm trying my best and I'm doing all that I can, but I'm stuck in this weird limbo and falling between the cracks and I just don't know what else to do.

He asked how much I thought I'd need a week, and then he kissed the top of my head after I told him, "Sorry." He said that he knows I'm trying my best, and that means a lot to him. It's not like I'm just sitting back and doing nothing. So I asked for $200 a month. That will cover gas and should cover most basic food. I will continue to work and go to school... none of that will change. I'm just getting some help from my sugar daddy :) He says he knows what he can afford, and he's told me before that it's not like I'm a gold-digger. I hate to ask him to do this for me, but... I can't see any other way at this point.

It was funny-- I had texted him during the day that I wanted to make Rice Krispies treats, but he doesn't get the texts until he picks up his phone from the weapons locker at the end of his shift. So he's walking out the door with some other guy, and his phone goes off. When he sees it's from me, he's like, "Uh-oh, that's never good..." So he opens it and reads, "I want to make Rice Krispies treats...", and he's like, "I can deal with that. I can very, very much deal with that!" LOL He told me the story when he got home.

So we traipsed off to Wally World to get the ingredients, and while we were there, do you know what he got me?!??!

A neon/fluorescent sweater! Like the one I used to have in high school! (Actually, he's the one who bought the first one for me, while we were up at Ren Fair the year it was super cold and rainy.) I wore that thing to death, and finally got rid of it at SOULS, because I learned that you weren't supposed to draw attention to yourself with your clothes... and neon is definitely attention garnering. In the years since, I've regretted getting rid of it, since I figured I'd never have an opportunity to own one again.

I thought wrong!

You should see this baby in the sunlight. It'll sear your retinas right off :D

So. That has been my past few days. What an adventure. *sigh*

And what a good guy I've found.

Thank you, God, for my fiance.

And with that... I'm off to make the promised RK treats.

It took me a long time to get to the point where I see $0.00 on both my checking and savings accounts, and to know that I have nothing but pennies in my wallet... and be okay with it.

I know it'll work out. It always does.

Especially when I remember that I also have a nickel!! :D

Or maybe it's just that I don't care right now. Come to think of it... that's probably it.

Really, though, I'm not worried. Why? Shouldn't I be? Well... no.

I have a job. I will get paid eventually. As a matter of fact, I have a small sum coming to me this week for an odd job that I did. And the writing gig? I don't have to apply that to the wedding fund. Yes, I want to, but I can use that money to live if I need to.

Secondly, I have food in the house. I bought groceries with the last check I got, so I'm not starving. C won't let me starve, even if I can hardly bring myself to ask him to buy me groceries.

I have a roof over my head. That's not going anywhere. It's not like I am struggling to pay rent or anything.

I've got gas in my tank. Yes, with my last paycheck I also filled up my gas tank. I still have half a tank, so I can last another 3/4 of a week, at least. (Depending on how much I drive.) That'll get me through until I get paid for that odd job, and I can put that money into the good ol' gas tank.

My counseling is free. Sure, I have to drive out there, but whatevs.

I'm seeing a doctor, and my parents are taking care of the bill. What a relief! And thank God for insurance. (Speaking of, I got my official endocrinologist referral today!)

I'm applying for food stamps this week. I finally collected all the info that I need, and I'll take my textbooks with me and study while I wait. Two birds, one stone.

See? It'll be alright. And someday, when I'm able to work regularly (when I've got my massage business up and going?), I'll look back on these days of scraping by and be grateful... so much more grateful than I ever would have been if I had only known plenty.

Okay, so I've got the wedding planned.

And HJ  money will be coming in soon (read: in a week or two).

However, since I quit leading the teen group, I will definitely NOT be getting as many hours in as I would have before. I have peace of mind but less pieces of money. A terrible dilemma, that...

Also, I'm supposed to work on Mon-Tues for a couple of hours, but E will arbitrarily cancel a day or two on me, so I really can't count on that steady of income from that. It's partly annoying, partly a relief. I like having extra time to clean the house or work on a craft project or get ahead on my homework.

However, I did get a check from the gov't for a few hundred dollars. It's part of my grant money, and so I spent it on something school related. I paid off the last few hundred that I owed SOULS. Know what that means? I'm debt free! (Uh, yes, except for the $30 on my credit cart. Heh.)

This means that any "spare" money I get now can be applied directly to the wedding. I'm done with that bill. With the rest of the money, I bought groceries. (It's gotten to a sad state where I feel guilty for buying groceries, for spending money on food. That's bad.)

So, how to supplement my meager income without swamping my frail nervous system? Enter Craigslist Gigs.

I have landed two "gigs" already-- one writing content for a few websites, and another as a model for an art project. I'm currently trying for another gig, but I really can't believe that I have even done this...

My rule, though, is that I will never strip for money, and I will never perform sexual favors for money. I've honestly contemplated it in the past (and the not-so-distant past), but... no. Just no. It's not worth it. Really, it's not. Especially after reading stories from ladies who have, and the atmosphere in such places, not to mention the fact that I'm encouraging those kinds of activities (which I do not approve of!). No. No matter how desperate I get, that's one of the things I will never do, along with selling drugs or alcohol.

However, I will model bikinis for money. No, it's not for people to ogle, it's displaying products for a website. Different, in my mind. I just never thought I'd get back into modeling. I'm not "out of shape", but I'm not sleek and toned, either. I'm a healthy looking average girl. Sometimes that works, and most times it doesn't. It depends what the person is looking for. In the case of the artist, it's just what they're looking for. In the case of the bikini saleswoman, I'm not sure, because she hasn't emailed me back yet.

Anyway, I've realized that the odd job scenario can work for me. Hopefully I'll be able to live off of what I'm making with HJ, and the odd jobs I do I can put towards the wedding.

Depending on my ambitions, I may even put a few craft items or paintings up on Etsy. If I can get ahold of a camera, I don't see why I couldn't.

Oh, yeah. My roomie and I (mostly my roomie) are learning to eat fire. If all goes well, we'll have street performance routine coming along within the next month or two, and can get some money that way. That'd be cool.

I am at once humbled and overwhelmed.

My parents have come through for me... again. Without my asking. Just... giving, because they love me.

I broke down to C last night, after he pulled the blankets off of my head and revealed that I was crying. The man just won't leave me alone when I'm going into crisis! (Which is a good thing, one of the reasons he's so good for me... he can deal with the waves that come up in my ocean.) I had been crying and praying under the covers, and then I was crying and explaining to C.

I felt trapped. So very trapped, financially. This last physical breakdown has/had me very discouraged, because it's not like I'm not honestly trying to be a normal, productive citizen, you know? But the kind of schedule demanded by the combined expectations and requirements of school and work together are just too much for my system to take, much to my utter dismay and chagrin. (And horror. And detestation. And... shall I continue?)

I have no savings. I have no income. I am living off of my credit card. Creditors are calling me because I have counseling and medical bills past due that I can't pay, and I need counseling and medical attention that I cannot afford. I had to drop a class because I can't handle full-time school, and financial aid didn't entirely cover my tuition costs. I still owe SOULS a few hundred dollars (that one can actually wait, it's not urgent, thank goodness).

And on top of that, I'm planning the wedding, looking at things and realizing, "I can't afford this. I can't afford even the most basic of these things. Why bother even planning if I can't do anything about it?!"

And then there's the HJ. That letter to E that I wrote. I'm going to re-write it. It's too snarky, to rant-y. I still feel like a "confrontation" is necessary, but not like that. In a different way. A loving way. (I'm SO glad I have this blog to blow out all my hot air before I do the real deal!)

There's the fact that I think I might take a hiatus from HJ. The fact that E will feel like I'm betraying her, the comment her husband M made when I was planning on going away to school about how that was "selfish", and how that will easily be applied to this situation... especially when she's already stressed to the max with me there to help her.

God, it makes me sick just thinking about how things have become with the HJ. Stress. Obligation. Not just me, her too. We really, really need to step back, regroup, build sure and firm, then continue.

I was talking to Mom about it, and likened it to a game of Jenga. You know the one... You start out with the tower of blocks all stacked together firm and snug. As time goes on, though, and the tower grows higher and higher, gaps start to appear. The foundation gets shaky. The higher you try to pile the blocks, the more delicate your infrastructure, until BAM! Everything falls down, and you lose.

That's how the HJ feels to me right now. We've done so much work, built this tower so high... and that's not a bad thing! The game is moving forward. But if we don't want our stack of blocks to collapse, we need to take some time to breathe, fill in the holes, and then get back to stacking blocks.

R is putting money in my bank account, enough to pay off the credit card and my bills, enough for a few more counseling sessions, and $200 extra for food. Apparently, he hates the idea that I'm trying to survive off of $20 here and $40 there. And he absolutely despises the idea of my living off of a credit card. (As do I!)

And I applied for 3 part time jobs that I think I can do without making myself sick.

I was searching the internet yesterday and last night to see if I qualify for disability, emergency financial aid, anything. Nope. Nothing. It's like I need to have cancer to get help... because you have to be practically dying before they'll take you seriously with an "invisible illness". (Or three, in my case...)

I don't even know where my health is at anymore, because I haven't seen a doctor about it in so long. I just get my maintenance dosage of meds from the doc up in Montana and call it good, because I can't afford to do anything else at this point. I'd like to get better, I sure would... I just don't have the money for it. Kinda funny how that turns out... like a catch-22. In order to get better, I need money. But in order to make money, I need to get better. Hah! I love life, sometimes :)

Seriously, though... this gift from my parents is a God-send. I was so stressed. I felt like my back was up against a wall. I literally did not know what I was going to do. I may joke about selling my body on the streets, but I will never, ever literally even consider that. I can't go down to the plasma center and make some money by donating blood and plasma because of my illnesses. I can't do school and most jobs at the same time... and even in the job market, I'm limited because I can't work around food at all.

So I am blessed. I was thinking and praying last night about how everything is supposed to have a reason for happening... or good comes out of it somehow... and I kinda committed to myself as I was hunting desperately for help with my health/work issues that when I am steady and stable and on my feet again (again? more like for the first time!), that I will somehow find a way to help people that are in a situation like I am. People who can't really work but who tough it out enough to not be considered disabled. People who need counseling but can't afford it. People with insurance that can't afford the co-pays, so they may as well not have insurance at all. People who fall between the cracks. People like me.

...People who crawl into a dark corner and curl up in despair because they don't have parents like I do, and there is literally nowhere to turn.

I know the bitter, chalky taste of exhausted hopelessness all too well. I want to help at least one less person not have to feel the panic and despair that I felt last night... that I've felt these last few weeks.

P.S.-- I'm back on solid food again! I had a rattatouille-esque dish for lunch, and it has caused only minor discomfort so far. What joy :)

I forgot exactly how many days I had left, and I was thinking that I had one more week, so I was internally freaking out a little bit, but then when I was doing dishes I realized that, no, I have two weeks.

Yay!

Excerpt from an email from a friend entitled "cow head":

Cow head is under the stairs. (vacuum closet) Please don't let the children play with it. I can't think of anything worse than a broken cow head.


That pretty much made my day.

Oh, and finding ten bucks in the pocket of my jeans (gas money) that I had put there a while back. That always cheers a body up!

Oh, and finishing a top secret project for some topsecretness which I cannot currently unveil due to the sheer topsecreticity of it.

It's been pretty good, today. God reminded me not to worry, not to freak out. After all, am I not worth more than many sparrows? His love is unfailing, and if I can see the big picture long enough to realize how fleeting and insignificant my money troubles are in the face of the reality that I have the Sovereign Ruler of the Universe taking care of me (the one who created gold and silver, aight?), then I can rest peacefully in the assurance that I am going to be okay. No matter what my bank statement says. God is not limited by Wells Fargo, people! I just want the world to know that.

More importantly, I want my own soul to know that.

I like good days. Especially when they end with my hand in God's hand.