Yeah, I know, I've been quite absent of late. That's partially because I don't want to wind up saying the same things over and over again, which would probably happen, and partially because I just don't have the gumption for much besides waking up, moving to couch, occasionally getting up for pain meds or bathroom or whatever food I can handle that day, managing liquids, and returning to the horizontal position.

I've started doing this thing where I'm working with a coach to try to make money from home, working online, like a go-at-your-own-pace class type thing. Selling stuff on eBay, that's what I'm working on right now. It's hard, though, really hard, when the word "energy" is a dim memory of a time gone by, and nausea stalks the streets, seeking whom it may devour. Hint: it's me. I have to force myself to sit up and try to focus and learn, and many days it just doesn't happen.

I've basically spun down into a crumpled mass of "I can't fucking DO this anymore!" and I refuse to budge. Symptoms have flared up and recruited other symptoms that I hadn't become acquainted with yet. I started doing some more research on EDS this week, but I stopped after a day or two because it's too dismal of a prospect, knowing what I'm in for. It did help me to get some ideas as to what this chronic nausea and vomiting problem might be related to, though. I'm throwing up all the time, and when I'm not throwing up I'm either so nauseous that I can't stand up or sit up or my stomach is threatening to toss the cookies. Sometimes I have a day where I'm alright, but they're getting fewer and farther between.

Don't get me wrong, there are some good things happening too. It's not all crappy. My sister sent me a pastel rainbow colored alpaca stuffed animal for Christmas, whom I have named "AlpaCapone", and he goes almost everywhere with me. My cats are a delight, generally as a rule, and my husband continues to be the thing that keeps my heart going. I have a friend that has come to mean the world to me, and she's been a breath of fresh air, being there when I don't have the energy to reach out. I've stopped interacting on social media, for the most part, because I just don't have the energy to reach out, and I don't feel like I have much to share at the moment, at least nothing that people need.

~Alpacapone in his gangster hat~

Sorry this is brief. My brain is just not wanting to flip on the "eloquent" switch, plus I'm typing away as the husband tries to sleep next to me, so I figure I should wrap things up. It's not that I want to be a downer or have a huge pity party, it's just that this is where I am right now. I found this website called themighty.com and I'm excited about it. There's a particular story I read on there the other day that was just what I needed--just read the comments where I say so!--and it helped to pull me out of my huge depressive funk by realizing that it's okay to fall down and fall apart sometimes. I'm really discouraged with the fact that I have a rare, incurable, systemic, degenerative set of diseases that makes my every waking moment a misery and will only continue to worsen as time passes. I don't know what to do with the enormity of that fact, and I don't know how I feel about it except for "angry". I'm trying to figure that out, trying to learn how to live with this. Anyway, here is the story I read that helped give me some peace: "To the Person With Chronic Illness Who Feels Like You’re Falling Behind". Fyi, the girl who wrote this also has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, so I know she gets it. So, yeah. That's it for me for now. I need to take some pain medication and try to sleep so I can maybe accomplish something tomorrow. I'll be back soon to vent, I promise. I need it. The words are starting to choke me from the inside.

I broke down crying today during my appointment with my "lady doctor". (Yeah, I could just say gynecologist, but I honestly like the phrase "lady doctor" better. It sounds more elegant, don't you think?") Well, not breaking down as in sobbing, like buckets of tears, but I did cry and she handed me the tissues and I felt a little embarrassed because I try to keep my crying to a minimum, and definitely private and not in front of my doctors. She was very understanding, though-- I love having her as a doctor. I only see her once a year, but she's awesome.

She asked what had transpired in the past year, so I gave her a quick rundown on my health, on the status of my marriage, of the stress that we are under (and that's where I started crying), etc. She was very sympathetic and encouraging, and she said that she hates the diagnosis of fibro the most for her patients because it just causes so much pain and horror in their lives. She is a total believer in fibro and how it can wreck a life, and we even had a little chat about pregnancy and fibro, the risks and challenges, etc. She really wished me well and had good wishes for me that I would find out, through the doctors and tests, what on earth is really going on so we can treat this and get it under control.

Get this: even my gynecologist, after just a brief rundown of my health changes in the last year, says straight out that I am dealing with something beyond fibromyalgia. There is another disease at play here and we haven't figured it out yet, but it is continuing to drag me down and make life feel more and more impossible. I want to find the line between reality and complaining, but I also just want to vent and explode into the atmosphere with a supersonic silent scream at how hard every day is, how much I miss my old life, and how sick I feel every day and night, how much acute agony I chronically endure. Since I got taken off of the hydroxychloroquine until my appointment with my rheumatologist in Phoenix, my joints have jumped in on the pain parade full force, even more so than before. I am not aware of a single joint in my body that doesn't ache on a near constant basis, even without use or pressure.

I hardly do hot baths anymore because putting weight on my hands to lever myself up and out of the tub is almost unbearable; walking is painful at all times because of my knees, ankles, and all the articulations in my feet. Did I mention that I received news at my last pain doc appointment that I basically have gout?! I'm a 26 year old woman. How the fuck can I have gout?! So I got this paper that lays out the foods I can and shouldn't eat, but I'd just started to revamp my diet a bit and make it healthier so I can lose weight hopefully, but the gout paper basically told me to continue eating the way that I have been! Just with more veggies. I think it's just going to be trial and error, really. This gout thing is in conjunction with my pain doc's sincere conviction that I have a type of rheumatoid arthritis that doesn't show up on the AI blood tests, but that there are definite ways of diagnosing. That's a very valid theory, especially considering my poor joints now that I'm off of the lupus/RA drug and doing so much more poorly. (My friend with the same type of RA as the doc is postulating takes hydroxychloroquine for it and it helps her. We both think that, you know, if I'm taking an RA drug and it's helping and then I get off of it and I worsen, that combined with other clear symptoms makes a pretty strong case for seronegative RA.)

By the way, a blog that I follow regularly, chroniccurve, has an entire post called Seronegativity for Dummies, and I strongly suggest you check it out if you're at all curious about what the heck I'm talking about. She's a great writer, a strong advocate, and does not spread misinformation. Best of all? She's totally my age or maybe a bit younger, a peer! I love it.

I am looking forward to my appointment the first week of December at the rheumatology department of the University of Arizona. I hope it will be a good and productive experience. Yes, I'd prefer that the doctors are pleasant and funny and good looking as well as intelligent and diligent, but honestly all of that falls on the back burner when I regard information and a correct diagnosis. What would you do for a Klondike bar? I think the question is, what would you do for a real live answer? If I just had a reason for my every increasing pain and continuing fatigue, it might make it easier to bear.

I realized this week that even though he loves me and he is totally there for me and is my #1 supporter, sees everything… Corey will never really understand what life is like for me, what it's like to be sick like this, none of that. (Random insert, but I'm really tired and falling asleep while typing this, so I closed my eyes for a very long blink and had a momentary dream/vision/hallucination of passing out and being lowered to the ground by my group of friends… the ground that was made of various kinds of ice cream. Woooooow.) So, back to Corey. See, he rarely even gets sick, and any pain he's experienced has been acute in nature, not to mention that he's good at putting mind over matter and ignoring the discomfort. Sometime I'll have to share the story of when he sprained his ankle at school in the morning, walked on it the entire day without seeing the nurse, and then walked home. Crazy dude. Crazy! But because of his lack of experience with prolonged pain and sickness, he really has no vantage point from which to really see into my experience and sort of assimilate it into his own, to pretend that he's me in a way.

Honestly, that realization was a little bit devastating to me. I knew he had my back but I had always just kind of assumed that he knew exactly what I was dealing with and was choosing to be dense at times. Oops. Heh. But no, he doesn't truly get it, and that's okay. Who does, really, unless they've lived it? I mean… I know what it's like to have my bones feel like they're filled with fire and etched with acid; I know where the articulation of my joints are because the ache is particularly sharp, thick, and overwhelming there. I know what it's like to literally be crippled by pain and not be able to take a step forward or stand at all, even sit, due to epic levels of concentrated pain in one area or another. I know what it's like to suddenly be dizzy and lose my footing on a completely flat surface. I know the jolting awake from a presumably sound sleep for no apparent reason (or because the pain followed you into your dream and it got too overwhelming), maybe just once that night, or maybe again and again and again, every hour or half hour, and I know the feeling of overwhelming gratefulness that I don't have to try to drag my invisibly battered and bruised carcass into work every day. Objects fly from my hands when a twitch attack strikes, I can't walk, and it jerks and jolts already painful muscles and tendons and joints. I need the walker to walk, especially with my very low back having decided to give up on me in excruciating spasms and weakness at totally random intervals, but my hands hurt badly from the weight on them as I push myself along with the walker and from having to grip the handles the whole time.

On the other hand, that same walker allows me independence that I would not have otherwise, and it allows me to walk a half an hour or more every night, pain or no pain. It's cleansing, this walking, and Corey joins me for that, too. It's during the walk, during the errands on his day off, that I realize he will never truly get it unless it happens to him. Good god, may it never happen to him. He hasn't the patience or the proper personality to deal with such unrelenting pain and the constant onslaught of old and new symptoms that always keep you off balance just a little. He does not have the good humor to laugh through or about a particularly painful day or hour or situation. He turns into a grouchy, mean person when subjected to large amounts of pain that are "semi-chronic" (lasting for more than a day). I've seen it first hand! So really, it's better for everyone involved that I'm the sick one, not him.

As you can see, there is much for me to think about and feel when it comes to my current "lifestyle". I didn't choose it but I do have to make the best of it because it's not going away, not anytime soon by my guess, and I'd rather not waste a huge chunk of my life just waiting to get better so I can begin being the person that I want to and doing the things that I want to do. Hell no. Corey summed it up pretty aptly when he said that there was a lot of "trauma" around the change in my life and my sicknesses, and he's right. There is a lot of trauma, stuff that I need to work through, and I really want to. I tried a particular place this week that seemed promising based on a lead from Bisbee when I was visiting the other week, but the people here were somewhat rude and quite unhelpful and it did not pan out at all. No counseling for me at this time; can't afford to add another doctor to the mix right now. Not when every penny of what I use to pay my doctors and get prescriptions and such is a gift from family or friends or somebody. God I hope I can sell these crafts that I've made somehow. It's the only way I can think to make some money right now that's within my physical capabilities. I haven't made much in the past few weeks, though. Been too… depressed. Sick. Totally unmotivated on top of feeling so feverish and flu like and drained and just blah. I'm still super shocked that I actually had a great time in Tucson and wasn't all that ill.

I blame our mattress, actually. My sister in law's mattress helped keep my pain down, I think, but ours beats me up like hell. We need either a new mattress or one of those memory foam topper thingies for it, and we also need new pillows, like, SO bad. Have for a couple of years now. Anyway, I can barely keep my eyes open, and I'm just rambling at this point in any event. Hit me up if you wanna buy us a mattress or pillows, or if you wanna buy some crafts, yeah? Keychains, beaded autumn wall hangings, necklaces, earrings, painted prescription bottles, and more. Maybe I'll do pictures some time. Maybe. If I remember… and feel like it. Heh.

Also, I was just hit with a strong but irrational desire to go to the zoo. What's that about?

I'm so stressed, you guys. I have prescriptions I need to pick up tomorrow, but I can't afford the $15 to get them. I have a massage scheduled for tomorrow as well, which is one of the only things keeping me able to still walk right now, but there's no way in hell I can afford that. I could get my scripts, but then I wouldn't be able to pay my phone bill… and somehow I still have to make it to Phoenix twice and LA once this coming month for important doctor's appointments. Oh yeah, and the pharmacy in LA I got my pain meds filled at shorted me (and some other patients), and I've been trying to get it straightened out since Monday, but I'm running out today and I'm afraid I'm going to end up back in the hospital again… Damnit. I just don't know what to do. What can I possibly do that I'm not already doing? 

The worst thing is how unfair this is to Drogo. He has always worked hard, saved as much as he can, been responsible with his money, and the present is no exception. He just can't seem to catch a break, though. When it seems we're about to come even and he might be able to get a handle on his bills again and even sock away a hundred or two dollars, something breaks or is more expensive than anticipated, or some new bill crops up. Without fail. He is such a trooper, but how long can he last under such a strain? The poor man feels like a failure, but he is one of the most valiant men I know. How unfair is that? And it kills me that I am the source of this pain and stress. I hate it. I hate myself sometimes for being the instigator of bills that I am.

It's no wonder Drogo and I are having relationship problems from stress. We're both freaking the fuck out, trying to figure out how to just SURVIVE. I hate this. I hate this so much. Being sick is stupid. I have to believe that it will work out somehow, someway… but I really do not see it happening at this point, and it terrifies me.

I've done what I can-- created the fund raiser, sent links/pleas to every single person on my Facebook friend list, even sent the link and an appeal to some pages and businesses that I know… asking them to at least repost the link so that someone, somewhere might see it and have pity on us. I'm working on the inventory and production for my craft booth I've got planned for this winter. I haven't even put any money into supplies-- I'm just using what I've accumulated over the years. I applied for disability and we're just waiting, waiting, waiting… what else can I do? Seriously, what else can I do???

I'm stressed, scared, sick, and generally distraught… but I still have to believe that it will work out. We're doing the best we can. Life rewards that, right? Hard work, sacrifice, integrity… those all pay off in the end, yeah? I hope so. I genuinely, sincerely hope so. 

I've got a confession to make: I suck at being sick.

No, really. I mean sure, I'm not a huge grouchypants most of the time like some people would be if they had to carry this load *cough* myhusband *cough* but I'm not so great at the ins and outs of actually being sick.

To demonstrate, I shall show you a cartoon a friend posted on my fb timeline the other day, and it is so appropriate.

Calvin makes a pretty good point as well:

When it comes down to the nitty-gritty of taking care of myself while sick, I'm pretty terrible at it. The last time I recall eating a vegetable was cucumber and avocado in my sushi the day before my birthday; before that, who knows? I finally unpacked my toothbrush and toothpaste from the last trip to the big city I took… you know… a week ago. I went an entire week without brushing my teeth and only thought of it, like, twice. (And I seriously cannot recall the last time I flossed.) At least I've showered once this week. Or was it twice? Can't remember.

We have maybe 4 pieces of silverware left that are clean, no bowls, and 2 large plates. Everything else is dirty, because I just haven't done the dishes in about a week. I've either been gone, sleeping, or feeling too crappy to stand that long and put forth the energy. I did some earlier and am waiting for them to air dry so I can do some more, but now I'm in bed feeling like I'm gonna puke.

Facebook peeps only see what I choose to share, and even then it's more than most people with chronic illnesses tend to share. I'm open about the fact that I'm sick and I'm in pain all the time and that I'm on prescription pain killers (among other prescription drugs). Sometimes that leads to my having to grit my teeth, smile, and dodge well-meaning advice but it's a small price to pay for the awareness, community, and authenticity it's garnered.

I guess I can't be too hard on myself, though. Recall, if you will, the last time you had a bad flu. We're talking fever, chills, nausea, headache, achy body, the works. Were you very able to function and take care of yourself and the cats and the house? Not so much. Just wanted to huddle in bed, sleep, and ride it out, yeah? Yeah. That's my everyday life. I've caught the curse of the Eternal Flu. Probably when I desecrated that ancient Egyptian tomb… yep. I'm sure that's what triggered it. I knew it would pay off to learn hieroglyphics, but nooooo, my high school guidance counselor wouldn't go with it. Well, now I have someone to blame, right? Right.

I asked Star if she knew anyone that would be willing to come by once or twice a week and help me with light chores and cooking food to freeze and eat through the week. So far I haven't heard anything, but I just might put out a plea on Facebook… just as soon as I'm done begging for alms for the Celebirthsary weekend coming up. (This weekend!) I feel guilty about it… we're strapped so tight for money, and we could use the funds we've managed to gather for other things… but on the other hand, I think that with the stress of my declining further and his truck being smashed and all the other fun stuff that's been happening (half of it doesn't even make it onto these pages) we could really use the break. Plus we've got a free place to stay with a friend of mine, so it's not like we have to pay for a hotel. I just… *sigh* I wish I didn't cost Drogo so much money. I wish I could contribute in some way. I used to pull my weight by keeping the house all spiffy and tidy, but even that is a little beyond me now (as evidenced by the week's worth of dishes). I just… I need help. But I have nothing to offer in return for any assistance. I can't pay anyone, and I don't have any marketable skills unless you count binge-watching Netflix from my corner of the couch.

I'm nervous, y'all. Really nervous. I know Khal Drogo says we're going to be fine and we'll make it, etc. etc., but I wonder how much of that is him trying to set my mind at ease and protect me and how much is actual truth? It's always hard, starting out as a young married couple. This, though… this goes beyond "hard". Sometimes I wish I could live an extremely uneventful life. It seems that my life is fated to be extraordinary with crazy things happening all the time, big difficult mountains to shoulder through and after-school-special-worthy moral lessons to be learned. But hey, you know, everyone's got their own crap to deal with in some way or another. I can't say that all the crappiness is evenly distributed, but we all get a taste of it at some point or another. I just happen to be a connoisseur, is all.

Well, I'm still feeling pretty terrible so I'm going to curl up with a book and lose myself for a while if I can. Before I leave, though, I'll just put this right here. (It's a song that's been stuck in my head for a while now, and I finally found it! Not the typical style of music I like but it's addicting to me, at least. It makes me feel seductive for some reason, and I like it.)

I can't even... I just can't. I'm done. So very, very done.

I didn't sleep last night. (I should be trying to sleep now, but the pain is hammering away at me and I'm thoroughly distracted by it.) I was definitely at a 10 on the traditional pain scale, and having a full body twitching episode to boot. C held me while I cried. Well, ok, I dozed some eventually... but I kept waking myself up with cries and moans of pain and alarm. My PTSD symptoms have been escalating gradually over the past few days, and I'm not sure why. They've been interrupting my sleep, and last night was particularly bad. I've been anxious, too... jumpy. Whatever.

Anyway, I wasn't able to drive because I couldn't lift my arms or turn from side to side, but a friend picked me up and took me to my doctor's appointment. While there, the endocrinologist proceeded to exclaim over how I've gained 17 lbs in the past 3 months.

Great. Thanks, doc. I knew I'd been gaining weight, and I'm trying to eat healthy so as not to gain unnecessarily, but I'm pretty much in enforced sedentary mode, here. Not to mention that the Lyrica made me gain some weight, and I never lost the weight I put on from eating all those damn cookies (oh, those delicious cookies!)...

So anyway, I went in feeling crappy and exhausted and miserable and in pain and came out feeling even worse about myself.

I'm so done.

I'm sinking lower and lower into the pit of depression that I recognize oh-so-well... and I feel like I'm too weak to even try to pull myself out, or slow my descent at all. If anything, I welcome the abyss. It's familiar and painful and maybe this inner pain and shredding self-hatred will distract me from the physical pain that is leaching the color from my life and the life from my soul.

Playground school bell rings again
Rain clouds come to play again
Has no one told you she's not breathing?
Hello, I am your mind giving you someone to talk to
Hello

If I smile and don't believe
Soon I know I'll wake from this dream
Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken
Hello, I'm the lie living for you so you can hide
Don't cry

Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping
Hello, I'm still here
All that's left of yesterday

Today, I told someone that I was disabled as a way to summarize my situation. It was easier, at the time, but dear God what it did to my heart...

I've also been toying with the idea of getting one of those handicapped parking tags.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu....

But then, just when you start to get really overwhelmed by the reality of your new life (read: redefining "success" and "productivity" to really, really low levels, which sucks!)... something positive gets thrown your way.

This blog post about loving yourself (written by a woman with chronic illnesses and pain), or more specifically, loving yourself more than you hate your disease and pain, pretty much kicked my butt. It was awesome and super inspiring, don't get me wrong, but I cried when I read the "Redefine Your Life" section... mostly because I was so sad that a.) I understand everything she says in that section and have experienced it firsthand, and b.) that my life has been reduced to "Yaaaaay! I showered today!"

Really?

Really?

I kinda just want to crawl in a hole and die because of that.

And the thing is that, no matter how hard I try (and I am trying), I can't do any better, because it's my best.

This is my best now.

I am having a hard time accepting this. A very, very hard time.

However... I then found a link from there to this non-profit community called Chronically Awesome.

This is what their "How To Be Chronically Awesome" page says:
(I'm posting the whole thing here, because really? How often do I/others really want to go chasing links around the interwebs? Not so much...)

"You are NOT your diagnosis!  You are always YOU first. You are a person with a chronic condition; you are not the chronic condition. It does not own you.

Define yourself by your abilities. Many of us have found abilities we never knew we had once we became chronically awesome. This isn’t the loss of your life, just the beginning of a new, and different life.

Communicate daily. Do not fall into the black hole of chronic illness. Talk to someone every day. Be it someone at home, on the phone, or via social media.

Every conversation does not have to be about your illness. There is so much more to you than your condition. You have so many interests, and so much about you that does not go away just because you are sick.

This may be a tough one but, get up and bathe and put on clean clothes every day. Ladies, if you are the make-up type, just put on a bit of gloss and mascara. Make yourself up a bit. When you look good, you feel good. If you simply don’t have the energy for all of that, maybe just a hairbrush and a clean set of PJ’s will do. Feeling fresh goes a long way.

Keep the faith! Whatever your faith or belief is, keep it strong. If your faith is in God, or yourself, just keep strong, and keep believing.

This is not your fault. You did not ask for this. Looking back over your shoulder and wondering why this has happened to you or what you could have done differently will not change where you are now. Always look forward. Never assign blame.

Don’t stress the small stuff, and it’s all pretty much small stuff! Stress can trigger flares, depressive or manic episodes, and all kinds of chronic symptoms that we don’t want. Learn the difference between problems and inconveniences. Many things are really inconveniences. Take a deep breath, get centered, and think. Learn to respond, not react.

Affirmations. Here is a simple one. At some point in the day, say to yourself, or write in a journal: “Today I was Chronically Awesome because…” and list all of the great accomplishments of your day. Anything from showering and getting dressed, taking a walk, to doing a half or full day of work at the office. Whatever you got done that makes you proud. “Today I was Chronically Awesome because I walked to the corner of my street and back.” Some days your list will be very long, or full of amazingly big things, other days the list might be shorter.

What matters is that you accomplished things, you own them, and they make you Chronically Awesome! Be proud!"

So yeah. That's that. I'm gonna try to take those words to heart and not get beaten over the head and heart by this new reality.

Sorry for turning into a sobby sadbucket. It's just that some days it really hits you, you know? As much as I'd like to be cheerful... I'm not big into faking it. Especially here.

"You're not a failure. You just haven't succeeded yet."
and
"You're not a failure until you stop trying."

C's words of wisdom to me this morning as I expressed my fears and my feelings of failure regarding finances. I seem to swing back and forth between zen acceptance and full-blown panic. It always gets worse when I'm forced to use my credit card to purchase basic life necessities because I don't have any other money to do so. I mean... I could dip into my saved tithe money, but that's earmarked for Crystal Peaks Youth Ranch, and I REALLY don't want to do that. (Maybe I ought to send that off today, so I'm not tempted...) Plus I don't want to get in debt with God. I hate the thought of owing him.

I'm doing my best, dammit. I really am. So why is this so hard? Why can't I make ends meet? And "work" isn't helping to ease my mind, either... It's gotten so sporadic. Either I'm down sick or she's busy. It's like two ships in the night, and it's stressing me out. I'm not working this week because I'm out today with the end of this respiratory infection (which I thought was getting better, but seems to be getting worse?!) and she's busy every other day of the week. But the thing is that I never know when E will be busy or not, so if I don't grasp that (hidden) window of opportunity... I'm out of work for the week. And that means that my livelihood suffers. Because, really... I'm trying to survive on $160 a month (food, gas, misc. expenses)... if I'm lucky. I rarely get that much. And if I get gipped on a week or more of work? I get to do November on $80, probably.

I have no idea how I'm going to pay for my next tank of gas. I know C will buy me groceries. It's not like I'm going to end up on the streets.

I just don't feel like I should be allowed to plan a wedding in the midst of "I can't support myself", you know?

And I do feel like I'm failing. Not that I'm a failure, per se, because I know I'm trying my hardest. It's just that apparently my best isn't good enough, and that's really, really frustrating and scary...

If I could only get on food stamps, that would help so much... but they're playing games and being stupid. I really don't need to go into the details, but I've called them 6 times so far today alone and haven't received an answer... when I was supposed to have been contacted by them on at least three separate occasions in the past two weeks. *sigh*

Okay, now on to the positives and the gratefuls, to even out my perspective and calm my turbulent emotions.

My fiance refuses to view me as a failure, and encourages me, and will not abandon me in the face of these difficulties. I know I can rely on him to help me get through.

I got a call from the rheumatologist's office this morning and am going in to get my referral ball rolling as soon as I'm done with this post.

The massage program is really, legitimately starting in January. That means that I'll be able to get trained and licensed like, half a year sooner than I had previously thought. That also means that I'll be "scraping along" for less time than I had dreaded.

I met with my Jedi friend last night, and he's going to officiate our wedding for free! He and his wife are awesome, and I'm looking forward to working with them. They are the same couple that put on the zombie haunted house, and they're really excited about the wedding, too.

Despite being poverty-level, I am able to get health-care due to insurance and the generosity and care of my dad. I am so overwhelmingly grateful for that...

Note: I need to go back and re-vamp the post that I wrote during/after the initial shock of that "Domestic Violence Incident". I didn't have all the facts, I was seriously being affected by my biases in that area, and I just want the whole wide world to know right now that, though I haven't gone back and fixed that post (i.e. added the objective facts alongside my emotional interpretation of the incident), my dad is not what I made him out to be at that time.

That's a grateful, too. R is still the same guy that he always was. He didn't mysteriously turn into an abuser; he never was an abuser. I've realized that just because dysfunction exists in a family, that doesn't automatically mean it's an abusive situation. My family has dysfunctions. Oh, does it ever... but it's also a lot healthier than it used to be. I can say that for each individual member of the family unit too, I think. Including R.

So, note to world? R is not an abuser. He made some bad judgment calls, but so did Mom, and so did I in how I reacted. And I also realize that most of what I hear about family life comes with Mom's slant on things... including stories of R. So if Mom is feeling a certain way about R, or if there's some misunderstanding between them, her words are filtered through that mental screen. I had not really realized that before. So all this time when Mom didn't "get it" about money, it came across as "R is selfish" or "R is controlling with money" or whatever. Now, she "gets it". R is sane, logical, and makes perfect sense. Funny how that works, isn't it? Our biases bias us. Go figure, eh?

I'm also grateful that I'm going to be home for Christmas soon, and I'll get to see little Peanut for the first time! And Mom and I will be wedding crafting. And I miss the dogs. And I miss my siblings. And I have the best idea ever for Christmas presents for the family, since I can't afford to get them anything. (So I'll MAKE them something!)

And I'm grateful that C's family is accepting me as one of their own. I talked to D about getting together as one big family during the holidays, so Gramma, Grampa, and I will be having Thanksgiving dinner with the R's! Coolio.

And I'm grateful that wedding invitations got sent out. I'm happy about that.

I'm very, very grateful that I'm marrying a man who tells me, "You're not a failure. You are only a failure when you stop trying." Yeah. I'm grateful for that. (Also, he got upset on my behalf when I told him the food stamps saga. He wants to go down there tomorrow and call them racist! LOL)