Posted in activism, anxiety, auction, bugaboos, C-PTSD, community, conformity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, eviction, faith, family, friends, homeless, homelessness, housing, life, Personal, poverty line, PTSD, society, storage, transitions, urgent

9/25: Forced Gratitude (& #crowdfunding #urgent)

[#crowdfunding plea at bottom this time. two days left before auction. see the bottom of this post]

Over the weekend, I lashed out in frustration and PTSD-related anger at the agency that runs the shelter I’m in. Yesterday, I got a verbal lashing about it from the person who runs this building. The words that stuck with me the most were about gratitude. That I should be grateful they’ve let me stay longer than the normal length of time.

Gratitude first: No one should be told they HAVE to be grateful for something. Am I grateful? Yes. Should that equate to forced silence and obeisance? No. I’ve spent most of my life allowing people to walk all over me and tell me how to act (did I follow their rules every time? No, but that’s a whole other post). If living here has taught me one thing, it’s to not be silent when shit goes sideways.

Am I grateful? Yes. Should I play the nice little quiet obedient resident who shows her gratitude by not speaking up? No. Fuck that noise. I will be loud. I will be vocal. I will NOT be silenced because my voice and words make someone uncomfortable. The crap I had tweeted about was painful. Triggered my PTSD as well as anxiety, and I know I wasn’t the only one who was having a hard time with it.

The person who chided me for “not being grateful” wasn’t here. Her weekend was disturbed every so slightly by phone calls. Mine and the others here? Much more.

Once I’m out of here and my time being homeless is over, I will be able to recap the things I see as wrong and right about our systems here in the Rose City.

One thing I will address now, though, is the intended length of time they think is adequate for us to find housing. Four Months.

Now, if you have a job and just need to be somewhere to save up and get back on your feet, fine. Also, if you’re looking for work that is along the lines of grocery, retail, food service, and doesn’t require long application processes, this can work.

But what about those like me? Those with disabilities and/or advanced education who need to work in other environments? The 4 month concept is flawed. Many white collar jobs take much longer to get through the process. And if you need to rework your resume or switch career paths, 4 months is definitely nowhere near enough.

I was told I should be more grateful that they’ve let me stay longer than the 4 months.

Forced Gratitude is not real gratitude. No one should demand it. Ever.

~A

#crowdfunding: I’m moving closer to needing access to my belongings. I’m just over the halfway point for paying off storage, but I need help. Auction is on Thursday at noon. I’ll have roughly $900 by the time the rest of what’s in the GFM and my own income clears. I need about $1400. Before noon on Thursday the 27th. Please spread the word. Thank you. I am grateful for all the help I can get. Real gratitude. Not forced.

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Posted in anxiety, bugaboos, crowdfunding, disability, job hunting, life, storage

8/30: Unsteady Income

Being an Independent Contractor with TR is a challenge. I love helping people with stuff like assembling furniture. I’m GOOD at it. But I can go a week or two without work and then get slammed for a week. I’ve had a dead period of a week now.

This is why I’m so frustrated. I never know how much I might make. Also, it comes piecemeal, so it’s difficult to gauge what I’ll have.

And this is why I need a regular job. Part time, mornings in an office. I’m looking, while also waiting to hear about disability. I need something steady.

This is super short… I much prefer making my posts longer. But it is what it is for now.

~A

Posted in baking, bugaboos, community, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, grief, life, storage, urgent

7/28: Cookies and Board Games

[Please share any of my posts. We’re getting down to the way-too-close point of the month to get storage caught up before it gets more added to it.]

I finally got up (pain) to go out to the kitchen, determined to make cookies. It’s chore time (weekends, it’s at 10am), so back to the room I go.

I wanted to make sugar cookies, but every recipe out there says I need baking powder. I wouldn’t hesitate in a normal situation, but I have one lower cabinet and limited space. I don’t have any and I doubt the house supply of stuff does either.

So, I’ve settled on baking shortbread. It has three freaking ingredients: sugar, flour, and butter. I’ll add some vanilla extract because I want flavor. After chore time.


One of the two blog post ideas I had running around in my head yesterday was about games and board games.

When I was a kid, my dad, brother, sister and I would set up a table in the living room and play Monopoly or Parcheesi, or some other game we had on hand. I enjoyed those evenings. Mom never played. I didn’t know why then and still don’t now. And unless someone wants to hold a seance, I’ll never know. I have other, more pressing questions to ask her anyway. Like why didn’t she finish college.

Since reaching adulthood, though, I’ve strayed from playing them. Any board games. I’m just not interested.

So, why am I bringing this up now? Because someone here started an “anything goes” group on Friday evenings and it’s usually things like Pictionary. Meh.

Every week, someone asks me if I’m gonna go play. Just like when the people who do Bingo and dinner come around each week. I get asked if I’m gonna go play.

I’m not.

So, last night, I started wondering why I don’t want to play them anymore. When friends hold a game night and invite me, I don’t go.

It could be partly from the New Years Eve when my last living grandparent died that morning and I still went to a slumber party from my church group. I stayed in one chair the whole night except for using the bathroom. I didn’t go play Jenga in the dining room. I didn’t participate in any other games. I was mourning. Shut down.

Maybe a small part of it. But I also have become increasingly tired of competition. Yes, I’ll watch my favorite teams play, but participating? Nope. Not really interested. I’ve watched as people who aren’t family get all wound up in the competitiveness and lose sight of the fun part. I just don’t see it as fun when people get borderline vicious over a damn game.

With family, it was fun. Family gatherings playing various games were always a blast. Now? I rarely see them. I think with family, it’s understood that it’s all silly fun. When you’re dealing with the people I live with, that understanding isn’t there.

Well, chore time is over, so the kitchen is open again.

Still need help with financial stuff…

~A

Posted in anxiety, bugaboos, crowdfunding, depression, dreams, emergency, empath life, grief, homeless, homelessness, life, storage, urgent, writing

7/25: rediscovering myself

So, yes. Still need help with getting things caught up financially. Preferably before the end of the month. Whether it’s via the GFM or PayPal (preferred), any help is vastly appreciated.

So… after last nights fucked up mess, I had therapy today. I read her the poem and the second post about getting my life back. Talking to her about the argument and what I posted got me realizing that I’ve been focusing so hard on real life shit that I’ve pushed aside all the stuff I love that has defined who I am and how I want my life to be.

Music, writing, etc.

While I can’t do much on the music front, I can write. She noticed that whenever I get into the deeper emotional stuff, I back out and start talking about my writing or music.

I had a warped little prompt pop into my head while on my way there. So, I’m playing with it and seeing where it might go. A mix of fantasy and murder.

I’ve missed the creative release. I see who I become when I push that aside and try to work too hard on real life. I have to stop feeling guilty for writing in the midst of the mess my life currently is. I’m angry. At myself and the injustices I see and experience around me. The bullying and lies. The hate.

I give myself permission to create in the midst of madness. I need to keep reminding myself of this, as I no longer have my dad to nudge me.

~A

Posted in anxiety, bugaboos, crowdfunding, depression, dreams, emergency, empath life, grief, homeless, homelessness, life, storage, urgent, writing

7/25: rediscovering myself

So, yes. Still need help with getting things caught up financially. Preferably before the end of the month. Whether it’s via the GFM or PayPal (preferred), any help is vastly appreciated.

So… after last nights fucked up mess, I had therapy today. I read her the poem and the second post about getting my life back. Talking to her about the argument and what I posted got me realizing that I’ve been focusing so hard on real life shit that I’ve pushed aside all the stuff I love that has defined who I am and how I want my life to be.

Music, writing, etc.

While I can’t do much on the music front, I can write. She noticed that whenever I get into the deeper emotional stuff, I back out and start talking about my writing or music.

I had a warped little prompt pop into my head while on my way there. So, I’m playing with it and seeing where it might go. A mix of fantasy and murder.

I’ve missed the creative release. I see who I become when I push that aside and try to work too hard on real life. I have to stop feeling guilty for writing in the midst of the mess my life currently is. I’m angry. At myself and the injustices I see and experience around me. The bullying and lies. The hate.

I give myself permission to create in the midst of madness. I need to keep reminding myself of this, as I no longer have my dad to nudge me.

~A

Posted in anxiety, bugaboos, C-PTSD, crowdfunding, depression, domestic abuse, emergency, empath life, homeless, homelessness, life, observations, society, storage, urgent

7/24: burned out

Burned out.
Torn up.
Tired of all of it.
Sick of the hate.
The pettiness.
The lies.
Why do humans do this?
Why the hate?
The judgement.
The condemnation.
We are no better than those around us.
Yet…

Many think they are.
No.
We are different from each other, but no better.
The pine box will be the same
No matter who or
What
You
Are.

I just had a run-in with one of the bullies here at the shelter. I wrote the above poem a few days ago, but it’s how I see things right now.

People don’t seem to realize that others do see how they treat people. Some of us watch, observe them. We hear the things they say when they don’t think anyone is listening.

Hear them trash someone who is unable to defend themselves. Then gaslighting me saying I said something and I didn’t. It’s exhausting dealing with people who don’t get that their behavior is bad. I snapped. I slightly regret doing that.

Being an empath who can’t block worth shit in a building full of unstable women is not something I’d wish on anyone.

I’ve hit my breaking point.

~A

Posted in anxiety, bugaboos, C-PTSD, chronic pain, depression, disability, dogs, family, health, homeless, homelessness, life, PTSD

7/4: Snafus

I’ve gotten bitchier of late. Snapping at people, many here at the shelter. Being argumentative with some. S asked me what’s gotten into me lately. I know and yet, I don’t know. Frustrated with my situation; being/feeling constantly stuck, taken advantage of, gaslighted (gaslit?); never seemingly able to get myself caught up to where I need to be.

Working on shit and maybe getting close to handling certain aspects of my life, then something comes along and sets me back. The incident* on the bus being the latest.

I posted a couple days ago that my life feels like one snafu after another. A second thought regarding that keeps passing through my mind. That of, “I AM a snafu.” But I’ve never written it down or said it out loud until this post. I kept pushing it aside.

Why?

Because it lends credence to what my mother told me when I was 9: that I wasn’t meant to happen. They (she) only wanted 2 kids and I was 3rd. In her eyes, I was a mistake.

So, I kept dismissing it. But with everything going on, it keeps coming back and tapping me on my shoulder.

Where am I going with this? Not one damn clue. Just needed to let it bubble to the surface and hope for the best. May e now that I’ve released that phrase to the world, maybe it won’t keep at me.

* yesterday, on 7/3, I was on the bus heading to my appt when some asshole turnes left in front of the bus. The driver slammed on his brakes and avoided collision, but my head hit the “well padded” hip of the woman two seats to my left (priority seating center facing seats). My brain got a bit jostled, but no clear signs of a concussion. And my neck is sore. These are no surprise. Reported to Trimet via Twitter. I don’t blame the bus driver at all. The asshole in the car? Them, I blame. If anyone were to get a lawsuit handed to them, it would be that asshole, not Trimet. It would’ve sucked, but a part of me kinda wishes we had hit the car.

Well, the dogs on our floor are all going berserk over the fireworks outside. My head still hurts, so I’m gonna take my meds and get more rest.

~A

Posted in activism, anxiety, auction, bugaboos, community, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, friends, health, homeless, homelessness, life, observations, peace, politics, society, storage, urgent

6/27: Duck and Cover (more #crowdfunding) SHARE ME!

SHARE ME!! PWEASE?

Still looking to raise at least $300 more before noon Thursday 6/28 (tomorrow) Pacific Time. The FB fundraiser is no longer active, as it takes a couple of days for funds to transfer. I hope the funds raised so far will make it to my account in time.

It’s now closing in on 12 hours before auction. Less than 18. I’m starting to get some decent tasks, so I hope I can continue paying it down after it gets pulled. With that, I hope to never deal with it getting this way again.

In other stuff… not gonna get too political, but with Justice Kennedy retiring, women like me, who rely on Medicaid for a number of things to manage my health, this is not a good time to be poor, disabled, and female in the U.S. Add Liberal to that, and it gets a smidge worse. I’m looking at my options and they aren’t many in number. I don’t have the money (obviously) to run to another country right now. I don’t have much tying me here, so if I do scrounge up a way out, I’ll likely take it.

Borders: I want to expand on this a bit, but the question that’s been bugging me: Why do we obsess over borders here? I know we aren’t the only country to do so, but I look at several countries in Europe whose borders are little more than a demarcation line in the pavement and a sign. And it’s been this way since long before the European Union. Other than pissing contests over land (Mine! No, MINE!! No, no, no, MIIIINE!), I don’t see the point in it. Migrant workers from the south of us have long benefited our agriculture and society and they’ve gotten some kind of pay (yes, I think they should be paid better, but that’s a whole other post). With fully open borders and people being able to come and go as needed, relations with other countries would be vastly better. And no, only a fraction of those who come from the southern countries are drug dealers/mules/kingpins. And that issue would become a non-issue if we legalized ALL drugs and treated it as a health issue instead of a criminal one. Look to Portugal for that.

But that is all for other blog posts. I’m just over here trying to save my stuff. Things that help me survive and things close to my heart. Just trying one more time.

Thank you,

~A