Posted in anxiety, C-PTSD, cats, community, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dreams, emergency, family, friends, grief, health, homeless, housing, job hunting, life, medical, Personal, poverty line, PTSD, society, storage, urgent

3/8/18: #crowdfunding storage, stashing life in cubbies, and #ptsd

Trying to step up my game for the blog. The more I post, the more visibility. The more visibility, the better my chances are of saving my storage unit and everything in it. Which is damn near everything I own. Being homeless sucks ass.

My goal right now with storage is to get it paid up before the end of March. It goes to Auction in April. But auction isn’t the only urgent reason.

There’s a very real possibility Portia and I will be getting a pet room at a local homeless shelter, maybe even by the end of the month. Not sure yet of when, as there are several move-outs coming up (Placement Supervisor and I chatted today). I’m limited in how much I can bring. The equivalent of two large garbage bags of personal items. Portia’s supplies are not counted in that. I’m also assuming food is not counted either (I hope. Despite my limitations on space, I do have a fair bit of food and cooking supplies), but I’ll ask.

I’ve accumulated things since the eviction. Some of came from storage, some was purchased for various reasons. You name it. But I certainly have more than two garbage bags worth of things. So, there are two options:

1: Get storage caught up and work on KEEPING it caught up, so I can retain access to everything. This means scrounging up over 1K in 3 months of storage rent and late fees, etc. My TR work has been minimal since December and I’m concerned about saving everything. Things for Portia and things like cleaning supplies and vitamins and…. well, you name it. It adds up and has destroyed what I have had come in. Much of the funds raised have also gone to various recurring things like paying down on my CareCredit card… Those little things add up when your income is less than $300 each month.

2. Find someone local who is willing to let me stash the rest of my things I currently have with me until storage DOES get caught up. (Letting it get auctioned off is NOT an option… understand?)

Being at the shelter as opposed to where I currently am means a few things: I’ll have a caseworker helping me with housing stuff. That’s a big one. I do still need a job, which is slowly getting back on track. My Voc Rehab counselor left VR a couple months back and I didn’t know. Around the same time, my VR coach (hired from an outside firm for the ‘grunt’ work of helping me) also dropped off the face of the planet due to a family crisis. I got to meet my new VR counselor this week and he let me know that my coach is now starting to return to work. (As it happens, my primary doc has also apparently gone on personal leave and no idea when she’ll return, so ALL these people who have been mainstays in my life have been out of contact). I do now have a therapist, although she’s currently in the process now of getting authorization from my insurance for however many visits they allow me to have to battle my #PTSD.

So… life is shifting once again, but into a completely different and more structured environment. I have -honestly- felt like my life is in flux and unstable since my dad died in 2014. He was my rock. He kept me grounded while simultaneously lifting me up. Reminding me that I can do the things I love to do and never give up on my dreams.

Last night’s poem was how I felt at that moment. Yesterday, I had the third visit with the new therapy place and we went over the results of the interview, testing and a diagnosis. They concur with my GP about the PTSD diagnosis, which is good. So I see hope for things to come, but still feel held back by some “invisible force” which I use Tule Fog to describe it. If you don’t know what Tule Fog is, it’s a very thick ground fog that can and has caused many vehicle accidents in years past. The Central Valley in California got it a LOT. I have family in the Fresno area, so we hit TF a lot. When it’s really bad, you can barely see six feet beyond the grill of your car. Hence why it can cause accidents. You slow down when driving in it because your reaction time is impaired because you can’t see far enough ahead to stop in time.

Some things are changing for the good and others are way up in the air since I’m struggling financially.

It’s been a week since I had to call 9-1-1 for what could have been a heart attack, but was a massive panic attack. I was (and still am to some degree) pissed off at the ER staff as they didn’t seem to hear me when I told them I’ve had massive panic attacks before, one even landing me in the ER like this one. The pain continued on until almost 30 hours later. After another massive pain strike the next night, I took a muscle relaxant and a valium left over from before I was ‘weaned’ off of it a month ago and the next morning, I had very little pain from it. It was not a “pulled muscle” like the ER folks said. I know the difference, folks. No, really. I’m one of those elusive patients who fucking listens to her body and knows when something is wrong and knows the fucking difference between nerve pain, pulled muscles, etc…


Share info, link back to this post or my blog in general, keep watching for things… the PP link is the fastest and easiest access. I also have a fundraiser on FB, but they do take a chunk… just like everyone else. Any and all help is greatly appreciated. Share, retweet, donate if you can… Sharing does make a difference.

Another poem tonight… or even more… who knows…


Posted in anxiety, C-PTSD, cats, chronic pain, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, health, homeless, insomnia, life, medical, PTSD, society, storage, urgent

3/7/18: #crowdfunding, life, and …

So, yes, still urgently in need of help to get storage out of hoc again… I hate asking. I do. Because I don’t feel like a damn adult. I hate being even occasionally dependent on others. But jobs aren’t happening, my PTSD is wreaking havoc on my life, and trying to just survive has been difficult. But I need a freaking miracle. Over 1000 needed and I’m trying to get tasks, but not really getting much.

Storage first. Then other things. One of those is something a person could purchase off my Amazon list. Here’s the thing. I currently live in a room with one small partially blocked window that doesn’t get much light even if it wasn’t partially blocked. On top of that, I have difficulty getting going in the morning and my circadians are all fluffed up. So, if one were to go to my wishlist and sort it by priority, they’d see an alarm clock with a daylight lamp built in that begins to do “sunrise” starting half an hour before the alarm goes off. This could help considerably. My new therapist even has one and loves it. But it’s money I don’t have.

And don’t let me get started on my “holy grail” book that ABE Books just alerted me to one being posted for sale… erk. Unf. Want. When you’ve been trying to get a copy for 14 years, finding one and not being able to afford it hurts… a lot. But… storage first.

Other life things… not sure if I mentioned this, but I’m now on a special list for a “pet room” at one of the transitional housing shelter buildings. Second in line, but they’re few and far between and always in use, so who knows when… but being on that list is where I need to be. I can’t put Portia on a harness and live on a bunk bed… no life for a cat. This is better overall for us.

Share, help however you can…


Posted in anxiety, C-PTSD, cats, chronic pain, community, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, faith, friends, grief, health, homeless, housing, job hunting, life, medical, peace, Personal, poverty line, PTSD, society, storage, transitions, urgent

3/5/18: Panic Attack and Anxiety Observations (and #crowdfunding, of course)

A few gathered bits from FB posts or intended posts, reflecting on the last few days of medical fuckery.


One good thing that did happen today: while talking with the doc, I mentioned I’d been on Celexa for a year and then we switched to Cymbalta a few months ago to see if that worked better. I think, due to its nature, it didn’t exactly help my anxiety and the panic attack. Since I’m under extreme stress and Celexa is good for anxiety, she was all too happy to switch me back. Cymbalta didn’t seem to really do much for me, while Celexa at least helped my heart med to keep my HR down. She wasn’t keen on my GP numbers, but if the Celexa can help with that as well, I may not need more heart meds.


My client today asked about what had happened the last few days. I was supposed to do this task yesterday, but vertigo was making things difficult, so we rescheduled for today. I told her about the panic attack. She said she had no idea panic attacks could cause pain.
Severe attacks can. Some will remember a few years ago when I ended up in the OHSU ER with one. The pain from that one lasted maybe 15 minutes tops. Which is why this one concerned me so much. The pain wasn’t subsiding. In fact, it didn’t fully dissipate for roughly 30 hours. Two major spikes, sending me off the pain scale, almost exactly 24 hours apart. Taking the meds I did Friday night sent my brain and body the right signal. Still had lingering side effects (hence the vertigo Sunday), but doing better overall. Hopefully the change back to Celexa will help.



Now that I know it was a nasty panic attack from hell, I realize that it may be a good thing that my airhead kitty is the one who remains. If JoJo were still alive during these last few days, I’d have a half-nekkid JoJo-kitty and hairballs all over this room.
When I was stressed, she was stressed. And when she was stressed, she overgroomed obsessively and then puked up hairballs that could be museum-worthy.
I still love her and miss her yowling morning alarm and “in your face” headbutts, but for her sake, it’s good she is watching from the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.
I miss you, my soul-kitty. Now, stop beating up Jack.


And an observation from being on transit today:

On my way to the task today, there were several folks on the bus with “granny” carts. Last dude to get on was an angry man. That’s really the best way to describe him.
Don’t get me wrong, I have my “fuck the world/angry at the world” days/moments. Plenty of them. But I do my best to not put ALL the blame for my life onto society. Is part of it “society’s” fault? Quite likely. But I take the brunt of it. I fuck up. I make mistakes. I take the blame for those things. This man, though, was so angry at the world. Blamed the bus driver, the bus, the others on the bus, etc for his having a bad day. The driver warned him and the others at that stop that there may not be enough room for everyone’s carts. He was right. They got one stop and he was blocking the way… there was no room for him and he blamed everyone else for his problem.
It was hard for me to sit where I was and be right in the middle of his anger zone.
I don’t know what happened in his life to make him that way, but I hope he finds some peace.


So, I have a couple of not-really-Tarot decks. One is all animal guides. I shuffled them this evening and pulled three cards. The first two… well… I think they were trying to get a certain message across. Read the brief messages on them.

Take some time out of your usual life and spend it in some solitude.
Take time to rest and recuperate rather than continuing your striving.
Practice shapeshifting by altering your physical appearance and mannerisms.

After the last few days… message received. The book that comes with the deck does expand on the brief sayings. The octopus one makes sense to me with the expanded reading.


In other news, my waitlist status for TPI has shifted over to one of tje women’s short term transitional buildings. Partly due to having Portia as an ESA, but I also can’t handle a top bunk. I’m now on a short list for a “pet room” at one of their women’s buildings. It may still take a month or so… but this may be a good thing. I’m grateful to my friends for putting up with me and my depression, ptsd, health, etc… but moving to a (hopefully) less stressful place will be a good change. Progress?

I just need to get Portia’s vaccines up to date ASAP.


That’s all for now. Except crowdfunding. Storage! I can’t lose my belongings. I’m trying to earn my way out of this hole, but I can’t do it without help. Paypal is the fastest and easiest. Any help will do. Share!


Posted in animal advocacy, anxiety, C-PTSD, cats, chronic pain, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dogs, emergency, health, homeless, housing, job hunting, life, medical, poverty line, PTSD, storage, urgent

3/3/18: Panic Attack? Shifting of Things (and #crowdfunding)

I need to get storage caught up ASAP… see below for one of the reasons why. I also simply don’t want to lose my stuff… 

(featured image is a neighbor kitty who came to visit yesterday. Super sweet girl.)

Panic Attack?

This has been a wild and weird week for me. Had appts and such Monday through Wednesday, everything fine… Thursday night I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. I had a sharp jab of pain right in the middle of my left shoulder blade. Pain radiated down my left arm and across part of my chest. Short of breath, etc… went to the hospital, EKG was fine and they sent me home two hours later with scrips saying I likely pulled a muscle.

Okay, here’ the problem with that: I’ve had sciatica and various injuries my whole 45 years. I FUCKING KNOW WHAT A PULLED MUSCLE FEELS LIKE!!!!! I also know what nerve pain feels like. They gave me two Norco, one Ativan, and a shot of Toradol (which hurt like a motherfucker) while there, which did virtually nothing.

So, flash forward to the same time last night. Pain SLAMMED into me again. Same spot, same radiating pain. This time it also sent a straight line of pain across my back, stopping short of the right shoulder blade. Called the OHP nurse line, which told me to call 911 again. One of the same medics as the night before. BP high again, but nothing super high. I have my own cuff/monitor thanks to my dad (heart patient) years ago insisting on getting one. So I picked it out and he bought it for me. I’m monitoring it for now and have my followup with my clinic on Monday. I’m taking pics of each reading.

Here’s the thing: last night before bed, I took a flexeril (muscle relaxant) and a valium left over from my scrips (weaned off due to choosing it or oxy for my chronic pain). This morning? Pain down near a 3 or 4 where it was hovering between 7 and 10 until sometime during the night. I kept telling the doc at the ER that it wasn’t a pulled muscle. I have my beefs with the vast majority of medical professionals. They don’t fucking listen to those of us who know our bodies, assuming we’re just dumb motherfuckers. So, I’m guessing a massive panic attack from all the layers of stress in my life.

Shifting of Things

As many know of my homeless situation, I’ve been staying at a friend’s house for nearly a year. Currently in the basement. I got back on the waitlist for Transition Projects some weeks back. Normally, they put you in a stage 1 shelter once your number comes up. Because of my disabilites and having Portia (my Emotional Support Critter), they shifted me to bypassing a stage 1 shelter (open rooms like dorms, barracks). I can’t do a top bunk and with Portia, I need an enclosed space. They moved me to the list for a stage 2 space, which is the transitional housing, presumably private spaces. She said it may still be a few weeks.

One thing I need to get taken care of is get Portia updated on vaccines. I wish they had told me initially when they said I needed the letter for her to be an ESA. Details are important.

Then there’s my stuff. I won’t be able to bring everything I have here at the house to wherever the housing is. With storage being locked down, I’m stuck. I need to get it paid up ASAP so I can start moving things over there and bring my stuff here to a bare minimum.

I now owe roughly $1000

Rent: $305/ea = 915 [January, February, and now March]

Late fees: Over $100 (applied on the 6th, the 15th and then the end of the month. The end of month one is $50 each)

So, somewhere over 1K. Because of aforementioned medical fuckery, I need to take it easy for a few more days. I have a task tomorrow, but if the client helps, I may be okay. I just need to slow down and not try to break my own damn speed records. My pain is down today so if that keeps steady, I should be okay tomorrow. I’ll just need to be careful with the tasks for a while.

My options for my stuff, if I get into the shelter sooner rather than later:

  1. leave things here for a bit until storage frees up.
  2. get storage paid up and move things down there.
  3. find a friend to stash everything extra until storage is open again. 

I’d MUCH prefer the second one. I hate asking friends to store my crap. In general, I hate depending on others for anything, including financial help. But I’m stuck in this vortex of being jobless (in terms of steady work), homeless, and dealing with physical disabilities and PTSD.

Wanna know what hell is like? Live my life as it is right now. I’d love to be pain free, in my own place, with a steady job I can do without pain. I’d love to get my service dog and have more confidence in getting out and about. Rebuild my life. The PTSD affects a lot of it. I am well on my way to getting into therapy again, this time to address PTSD and getting my damn life back on track.

So there you have it. My life these last few days. One ambulance ride, paramedics two nights in a row, meds, and just trying to sort shit out and survive.

If my panic attacks are “leveling up,” I’m royally fucked. When they mimic a heart attack, it’s bad. Especially since my dad and both of his brothers were/are (one is still going) heart patients.

I am my father’s child on so many levels.

That’s all for now…

Posted in activism, anxiety, C-PTSD, cats, community, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, feminism, friends, homeless, life, poverty line, PTSD, storage, urgent

2/27/18: #Nightmares, #Crowdfunding and #Hair

Crowdfunding: So, I’m still very short on funds and if not paid up by 6pm on the 28th (yes, tomorrow), then add another $305 and late fees from hell onto the total, which is around 700 right now (Also is scheduled for auction). Whatever can be thrown my way is greatly appreciated. I just haven’t had a good couple of months of tasks. Now, this *could* change soon as the partnership with IKEA and Taskrabbit is ramping up in the way of the Taskrabbit kiosk (or whatever it is) in the local IKEA store so people can hire someone like me directly while still at the store. I know TR is VERY excited about this new offering (it’s a separate task from general Furniture Assembly). Let’s hope their excitement translates to more jobs for me.

PTSD Nightmares: Two nights with valium. First night was spotty sleep thanks to noise and a certain feline being a brat by jumping up on me. Second night was decent. I think I actually slept a fair chunk of the night. Not all of it, but I think I was out by 2am and slept until about 6:30.

Hair: So, I decided to do a nearly clean slate (but also in a show of crazy solidarity with Emma Gonzales and the kids in Florida) and got my hair shaved down to a 1 on the clippers. It feels SOOOO weird, and holy FUCK it’s even colder now, but I’ll get used to it. Also, it’s only hair. This is, in a way, also a show of independence. My hair does not define WHO I am. I define it. I choose to wear it however I want, not however society tells me I should.

My hair wasn’t all that long to begin with. Despite that, this is a HUGE difference. I think we, in this society, put too much emphasis on beauty in women. Looks are deemed important. I’ve never really been big on that. I rarely wear makeup, I don’t sunbathe, etc… my appearance isn’t for others. It’s practical. It’s for ME. If I know I’m going to be getting dirty, like on a task, I wear casual clothes I don’t mind getting dirty or ripped. I have nice clothes, but rarely wear them. Only when I feel like it for ME.

I think that’s all for now…


Posted in anxiety, bugaboos, C-PTSD, cats, chronic pain, crowdfunding, domestic abuse, emergency, life, PTSD, sexual assault, storage, urgent

2/25: PTSD Nightmares (& #crowdfunding)

[Yes, still need help with covering storage. Only a couple more days before another $305 is added to the pile-up, pushing it over $1000]

So, nightmares. I won’t go into details, but these have been getting more and more vivid as time goes on. Last night, it included a person I’ve considered a lifelong friend. And not in a good, supportive way. These nightmares have included various kinds of assault, some sexual, some not. The interesting thing is that none of them really include the bastard whose behavior caused me to have C-PTSD in the first damn place. They’ve included a whole host of strangers and semi-famous people I’ve never met…

I think the reason why I haven’t had nightmares about The Asshole is because I’ve spent 20+ years facing my fears and going to therapy on and off, and just fucking dealing with the shit he’s put me through.

Been there, done that, got the PTSD to prove it.

So, what I’m left with is nightmares about potential attacks from others. Including that drunk sonofabitch from December on the MAX. One friend earlier today asked if the whole being on the train thing so much is part of my issue. Well, it is, but it also isn’t.

See, there will always be assholes and drunks wherever I go. I understand this. My anxiety of being around people and being in close proximity to others, namely men, makes being on commuter trains REALLY uncomfortable. It works both ways, I think. The anxiety makes being on transit worse, and the people on transit make my anxiety worse. They feed off each other… a symbiotic hellhole, so to speak.

But I can’t afford a car and I’m technically not on valium anymore (I have a small stash, but no more scrips). I’m going to take one before bed tonight to see if it calms the nightmares. If so, I’ll be talking to a few medical professionals about options. I’m on an antidepressant that’s supposed to help with anxiety, but I ain’t seeing much of a difference. Fuck, my iPod works better… well, the iPod and my cat waiting for me at home.

The nightmares are just another “thing” piled onto the mess of PTSD.


[and if you’re wondering why I’m swearing so much, I’m rebelling against a PTSD forum where I’m not allowed to swear… because fuck that shit.]

Posted in adoption, animal advocacy, anxiety, C-PTSD, cats, depression, disability, eviction, homeless, life, PTSD, storage, urgent

2/20/18: Love Letter to my Cat

Dear Portia: We have been through a lot since I adopted you on 10/30/2010. I saw your picture on C.A.T.’s website (Cat Adoption Team in Sherwood, OR) a few days before, visited you at your Petsmart location on 10/29, and knew. I knew you needed me and I needed you. JoJo, although she would be loathe to admit it, needed you as well.

After JoJo died of Congestive Heart Failure a year ago, the two of us have been through even more. Our eviction, bouncing from one friend’s apartment to another’s house and then three different rooms in that house since. You have helped me battle panic attacks, depression, suicidal ideation, the loss of your feline sister, and so much more. Which is why you are my ESA (Emotional Support Animal) and friend.

I wish I could have taken a picture of how we were cuddled up a few minutes ago. I had paid down on my side, with my head at the foot of the bed. You were contemplating jumping up for a moment, but once you did, you plopped down right in front of my face. That’s your style. I put my hand up to rest under your chin, between your front paws… as I gently leaned my own face against your fur. And your jet engine purr began.

You love touch. You are a people cat, even though you’re a little hesitant with some. I rarely hear you purr unless you’re loafing on my chest or touching me somehow. When I first adopted you, you couldn’t get lap time because JoJo insisted on HER laptime, so the bedroom became your place for human time. At first, you curled up near me and reached one paw out to place on my shoulder or face. You gradually got to how you are now with curling up on my chest (granted, the current bed is narrow, so not much room).

You have your ornery times. You have sensitive skin, so being groomed is not a preferred activity, yet your mats buried under that silky soft floofage say it’s much needed. Areas that most cats LOVE having petted are off limits for you (base of the tail mostly, which elicits a claws-extended swat from you). And sometimes your butt fur doesn’t get as clean as either of us would like…

But I love you anyway… stinky butt and all.

You are a goofy, sweet 14 pound lovebug of a cat. I know your needs and you know mine in your own way. Your purr is therapeutic and burying my face in your fur when I need comforting is an extra bonus. We’ve been through a lot of stress. But with you there for me, I believe we will make it through.

Everyone who sees pictures of you is taken aback by your beauty. Your soft dilute tortie fur and the eyes that make everyone gasp. Eyes that can be green, green-gold, blue, blue-gold, or some other combination. Of all the cats I’ve known or lived with in my life, I have never seen a cat with eyes like yours. And everyone who sees your pictures says the same thing. I likely will never see another cat again with eyes like yours.

You are 12 now. I know you can’t live forever. I cherish the time I have with you. You ground me when I need it. And I give you wet food when I can afford it. I am so glad you let me adopt you.


Your Human, Amanda (who still needs help with storage)


Posted in adoption, cats, eviction, grief, homeless, life

2/6/18: JoJo, one year later

She was my soul cat for 14 years. I adopted her February 2003 at the age of 11 months. Well, she chose me. I didn’t want a kitten, but she wanted me. She decided I’d be her human.

And I was for 14 years.

She became obviously ill only that night. The previous two days werr dismissed as her usual “hairball days.” 11:30pm February 2nd, 2017, I kmew it was worse. I called Dove Lewis and was told to bring her in ASAP.

By 12:30am February 3rd, the decision had to be made. Fluid building up, making it difficult for her to breathe. The vet said she wouldn’t have survived the night. I chose to end her pain then. My tears soaked her fur as the vet administered the meds that would end her suffering.

This was a massive blow for me emotionally. I had just gone to court a week before and was getting evicted.

I realized weeks later that this was how it was meant to be. If you go back to March 2017 or so, you’ll find a post called “It Was My Time” … I still believe that was JoJo letting me know that her reason for being with me was complete, and it was time for her to move on. That one phrase kept repeating in my mind until I finally wrote it down.

It’s been a year. I still miss her. Portia has taken up the mantle of being my ESA. But JoJo will always live on.


Posted in anxiety, cats, community, crowdfunding, disability, friends, homeless, job hunting, life, storage, urgent

2/2/18: Updates, Panic, and … ? #crowdfunding

So, obviously, I didn’t get storage paid for January in time, so add another 305 or so to the total and you get nearly $700. Then add more late fees as the month goes on. I’m going to keep plugging along trying to get more TR work, but it all depends on who needs the help. Also looking for regular steady work, as TR stuff ain’t gonna pay for me getting back on my feet.

Do I also sometimes use the cash I have to get needed things? Sure. Splurge a bit here and there? Sure. I’m behaving (for the most part). I picked up some cleaning stuff and more Vitamin C as those things aren’t covered on EBT (food stamps). Over the next few days, I’m moving down to a room in the basement here. I’m on the waitlist for TPI (Transition Projects) shelter space and have done all the things needed for getting into a space. TB test and a letter stating that Portia (Miss Floofybutt) is my Emotional Support Animal (ESA) for my PTSD. Trust me, you want me to have a fluffy furball to bury my face into so I don’t become a homicidal maniac on the commuter trains. Still want to get a service dog but I can’t right now, for a number of reasons (and yes, I’m considering a GFM to raise the initial “holy shit, it costs how much??” fees).

But yeah, I still need massive help.

If you’re local to PDX and need someone to assemble furniture or such, here’s my TR code: Taskrabbit. Or if you know anyone who needs help. I do some virtual tasks, but very few, and my computers are not playing nicely right now. Well, the “good” computers. The Chromebook isn’t good for much other than perusing the internet and blogging. It crashes WAY too easily to do anything serious.

So, back to crowdfunding… yes, I need help. The sooner, the better. At this point, I can’t do partial payments, so I need to gather up the whole enchilada. Help is good. Sharing is also good.

I’ll keep posting as much as possible. Hey, I look at the move to the basement this way: I’m even closer to the modem. HA!


Posted in anxiety, C-PTSD, cats, community, depression, disability, eviction, faith, family, friends, homeless, life, peace, Personal, poverty line, PTSD, semicolon, society

12/31: Into the Unknown

Yes, I could dwell on all the ugly in my life the past 12 months. Eviction, losing JoJo right after the eviction started, dealing with PTSD/C-PTSD.

Trying to see the positive is difficult when I’m still in the midst of all of it. But I have friends, and a family member or two, who have listened and stood by, helping when and how they could.

This has been a shitty year, even leaving out all the political and social messes. I still feel very lost. But 2018 is a new year. I won’t wish for improvements, but simply to work on moving forward the best I can. Whatever life throws at me will be taken into consideration and worked with. I think I can survive whatever comes at me now.

I appreciate my friends. I appreciate the fact that, despite the physical pain and the emotional turmoil of C-PTSD/PTSD, I still wake up each morning. I have a goofy cat who loves me. 

I don’t consider myself to be strong or brave. I don’t… really. I just wake up each day and see what I have ahead. I adapt. I learn. I grow. 

And in my being public about my life, my hope is that someone else will see my words and know that they are not alone. 

I wish everyone a good 2018. Whatever it throws at you, take it and work with it.