Posted in anxiety, auction, community, cosplay, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, society, storage, urgent

3/28: 2 hours remain #crowdfunding #emergency

I still need at least $1200 to save it. Please also share far and wide.

How do I explain this? How do I convey the importance of saving what’s in storage? I’m fresh out of tactics and ideas. I have several basics as well as unique items in there that are an integral part of my whole life. Memories, my photography, my mattress, my music, my costumes and fabric. I can’t let it slip away. The vast majority of what’s in there cannot be replaced, and what can will cost me at least $15,000 to replace.

If I put what little I have in savings, I have $200. I have one friend who has about $150 he can send, but he refuses to use PayPal anymore. They won’t let me do partial payments to pull it from auction anymore, so I MUST get the whole $1400 today before NOON Pacific time… two hours remaining.

I have some modest supplies here in my apartment that I can use to make some stuff as thank yous for helping. Primarily paintings. It’s all I have. The sewing and embroidery machines are in storage, so I can’t do any fabric things unless I can get my stuff back.


Posted in anxiety, community, crowdfunding, depression, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, grief, homelessness, life, storage, urgent

3/28: 3 hours left… #crowdfunding #emergency

Please share wherever you can.

3 hours left

1300 needed

I’ve done what I can. I’m tired. I just need help one last time. The items in storage mean the world to me.


Posted in anxiety, artsy stuff, auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, homelessness, life, Personal, society, storage, urgent

3/27: 15 Hours and Counting Down #crowdfunding #emergency #urgent

I’m running out of steam here. I’m so close to losing everything. I can’t do this. I’m tired. I’ve asked and pleaded, I’m doing what I can, but it never seems to be enough. I have a bit in savings from my last task, but that’s barely $100. I also have other things to be paid. Like my phone, which was shut off two days ago.

There is no way I can currently afford to replace what can be replaced. And no chance in the foreseeable future. The items in there are close to me. To my heart. To my life. They have little value for anyone else. Most of what’s in there has little to no resale value. Most would consider the lot of it junk. For me, the value is in what I can do with the items in there.

I just need another chance.


Posted in anxiety, auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, faith, family, friends, life, society, storage, urgent

3/27: 20 hours… #crowdfunding #urgent

Time left: 20.5 hours. Amount needed: $1400

I hate sounding like a broken record. I also hate that I still have to keep asking for help when I should be getting better at self-sustainment. I haven’t gotten anything in yet. I have one friend who might be able to send some funds, but no clue how much yet, if at all.

The replacement value of what can be replaced is well over $15,000. Likely even more than that. I don’t know what I can say to help convince people this is truly needed. Some of it cannot be replaced, but what can be is not going to be cheap or easy to replace. All of my creative tools (other than some paints) are in there. As the person who may be able to help found out last night, my mattress is in there and I’ve been sleeping on some blankets on the floor since October, which does not lend itself to good back health.


Posted in artsy stuff, community, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, life, poverty line, storage, urgent

3/27: Countdown – 24 hours #crowdfunding #urgent

And so starts the countdown to auction. $1400 needed by noon on Thursday, 3/28. Paypal is the only method at this point. Any sharing of posts is greatly appreciated.

Many people have never lived below the poverty line here in the US. But there are far more of us who do. The people you see working retail, fast food, and many other service jobs. My current employment is disjointed and not regular, so my income just doesn’t come close either. I’m working on gainful employment.

But until then, I work piecemeal. After moving from the shelter, I had hoped I would pick up work quickly, but the market is tough. Especially if one is changing job types. I get all kinds of people saying many of my skills are transferable, but I still feel stuck.


Posted in anxiety, artsy stuff, auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, job hunting, life, society, storage, transitions, urgent

3/26: Asking for help #crowdfunding

Thursday, March 28 at NOON is when I potentially lose everything. Many personal belongings I had to stash when I was evicted two years ago. The cost to replace it all is a LOT more than what is owed, which is roughly $1400US. Replacement would run at least 15K-20K. I am asking for help. They will not take a partial payment this time.

Intent is still the same for once I regain access to storage.

  • Remove belongings that can fit apartment.
  • Organize and move what remains in storage to a smaller unit to save money.
  • Determine if there things that can be donated or sold.

I’m so damn close right now. I’ve been sleeping on the floor since October. I’m looking for steady work. I have ideas for making some money, but don’t have all the things I need to do them. My sewing and embroidery machines for starters. There’s some paint ideas and still, there are a few tools/supplies I need to see those ideas through.

I live below the poverty level of this country. I am trying to build myself back up to get above that line once and for all. But I need a bit of help.

Thank you,

Posted in anxiety, auction, chronic pain, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, domestic abuse, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, grief, history, homelessness, housing, insomnia, life, poetry, society, storage, urgent

3/25: Disjointed #poetry

[Definitely running out of time for storage. I need to save it this one last time. Then I can move things around and get a smaller unit. 1400. Help?share?]


People pass me, sometimes
Bumping into me.
Am I here? Do I exist?
The sidewalk is not overly
I must be invisible.

Careful to not be followed.
Do I feel safe?
Where is my stun gun?
Just leave me be.
Fake window shopping.
Make the guy be ahead of me.
I must keep my eyes on

Fear. Am I late?
Why do I run?
My legs give out.
My lungs give up.
What is it that I fear?

I must fight the
Darkness of my past.
I long to be free of fear and
I have whiplash from always looking
Over my shoulder.
Make the pain stop.
Leave me be.


Posted in activism, bigotry, bugaboos, chronic pain, community, conformity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, health, life, medical, observations, Personal, politics, society, storage, student life, urgent

3/25: Being Disabled

[Panicking because storage auction is on Thursday and I desperately need the full 1400 to cover it and save it from auction. Please share and spread the word.]

Today, when I arrived at Central City Concern’s EAC (Employment Access Center), my case manager asked for my opinion on something. See, they’ve adapted some access points of the center to accommodate disabled folks like me, but it’s an older building and they haven’t gotten everything. They do have a small single wheelchair elevator to go down to the basement workspace, and the front door has an automated button system, but to access the computer area off the lobby, there are two steps up. And then three steps up to get to another area. I have a walker (while I love my cane, when it comes to back injuries, walkers are better because you aren’t contorting your body to use it).

So he asked me what I would suggest. I told him that small ramps could replace the steps and that they might have to be a little longer than the steps take, but it would be more ADA compliant. He had me write this up on a suggestion form and he turned it in.

Why have I mentioned this? Because hearing the opinions and voices of those who aren’t part of the norm of society is something that doesn’t happen often. Since I first hurt my back at 17, I’ve seen and experienced a disconnect from society. We are either invisible, dismissed, second class citizens… you name it.

And it sucks.

For years, even up until about 6 or 7 years ago, I wouldn’t consider myself disabled. I had my back injury and countless other injuries and health issues, but I rarely classified myself as disabled. In part because of how I was treated at 18 at the first community college I attended. They were horrendous to disabled students. Being kicked out of music classes, dismissed for needing assistance, you name it. Their DSRC was a joke. A tiny office barely big enough to hold two desks. No testing areas, nothing. The frustration was palpable.

I now live in Portland, which has a sizable disable population. I now own the label. With my back getting reinjured (twice) and more and more injuries and such added to the list (along with mental health fuckery), I have come to accept the label as part of who and what I am. But just because I’m in a city with a large disabled population, doesn’t mean everything is wonderfully accessible.

There are many apartment buildings and houses I could never live in. Too many stairs and no accessibility. Granted, if I ever had the money to buy a house, I’d hopefully be able to remodel it for accessibility. I can climb occasional stairs as needed, but I couldn’t live somewhere with lots of them.

My case manager asked me today because I had my walker. Because I have to lift it up to get past those two or three steps. If it isn’t loaded down, which it usually isn’t, then that’s okay. Anything more than what I had today would be too much weight.

One other area, and I may expand on this another time, is how the equipment we use is not treated properly. Service Dogs are the main focus with this issue. SD’s are there to help their handlers function within society’s parameters. My PTSD is easily triggered by a person, usually male, sitting or standing too close to me. Having a trained dog with me would help assure that space around me would be maintained for my mental healthiness. Same for other working dogs. They are working, helping their handlers gain their independence from other people. Freedom to do things others find normal, easy tasks without the need for a person to always be there to help. That’s all anyone asks.

But there are far too many people claiming their untrained pet dogs are SD’s, when they are not. There are a number of reasons these are a bad idea. They can show aggression toward other dogs, even Service Dogs, attacking them or humans. This can potentially ruin an SD and this then restricts the freedom once again of the handler. Again, I may likely expand on this in it’s own post.

Our society has long dismissed those who are disabled (among other groups). We typically aren’t seen as equals who can contribute just as much to society as able-bodied/minded people can. Sure there have been some outliers such as Stephen Hawking, but he was known in his field before he was diagnosed with ALS. But for many of us, we are seen more as a burden on society.

All we want is to be treated as equals and be given the chance to contribute to society like everyone else.


Posted in activism, anxiety, chronic pain, community, crowdfunding, depression, disability, friends, grief, life, suicidal ideation, urgent

3/24: The Void

Pull back from the edge.
Is anyone listening?
Another star burns out.
Too brilliant for common life.

Exist, to what end?
Scream at the void.
As others walk by.
No one sees them as valuable.

Can anyone hear?
Anything other than their own egos?
The void replies with silence.
Choose to move on.

Will anyone bother?
Does anyone care?
The star is now removed from existence.
The void is content.

(If you are considering suicide, please, please, please reach out for help. A friend of mine took his own life this weekend. He fell between the cracks of society and was never properly cared for by modern medicine. Death is permanent.)

[Yes, still need help with storage. Anything helps.)

Posted in anxiety, auction, C-PTSD, community, crowdfunding, depression, disability, domestic abuse, dreams, emergency, empath life, faith, friends, gratitude, grief, history, homelessness, life, nanowrimo, peace, PTSD, sexual assault, society, storage, transitions, urgent

3/23: Healing #PTSD #sexualassault #trigger and yes #crowdfunding, dammit

Yes, still need help. Auction is Thursday the 28th. I cannot give them partial payment. They won’t accept it this time. So I need to come up with 1400 for storage. I also may still need to pay my apartment management a chunk just under 500 as well. I’ll have to email the people who have been helping. There was some miscommunication there.

Healing: I’ve never hidden the fact that I have PTSD from sexual assault. I’ve also never hidden the fact that the asshole who raped me repeatedly has been cyberstalking me on and off for most of these years since. But I don’t think I’ve delved into the healing process and how I have viewed it. I use the Three Little Pigs as my analogy.

First Piggie: For several years, I was like that first pig, building my straw house, thinking I was this strong person. Only for him to come along, whether in the real world, online, or in nightmares, and blow the straw house down. I’d come out of my hiding and rebuild. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Second Piggie: Eventually, I morphed into the second piggie. I reinforced my stick house with straw, believing I was stronger than before. He’d once again come and blow the house down again… and again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Third Piggie: In 2013, after writing a particular character for NaNoWriMo that November, I transformed once again into the third pig. I had a brick house with reinforced walls and shatterproof windows and doors. My motto: Y’all can huff, and y’all can puff, but you AIN’T blowing this house down.

He stayed fairly quiet by then, but he has never been one to give up tormenting women. So I steeled myself against whatever he might do once he got bored again with his current victim.

My nightmares went from being victimized completely by him, feeling helpless, to being victimized but finding the strength to break away, and finally, to anger and a willingness to fight face to face if it came to that. And I might get injured even then, but still came out victorious. I hope you can also see the pattern there.

Right around the first of the year, I started using my salt bowl again and saying my own prayer. Asking God, Mother Nature, and those who came before (ancestors) to bring guidance as I and those around me move forward with our lives. To begin healing our pasts and finding wisdom and peace within and without. While I didn’t do this every night, I did do it several nights in a row over the last two and a half months.

It started to work. I’m an odd duck as I’m both believer and skeptic rolled into one. I put my faith out there and hope that maybe I’m heard, but I don’t expect anything major to happen.

But it is. I noticed recently that I haven’t had those nightmares of any kind, even the third one, in a few weeks now, maybe a month. I’d been so angry at myself, at the world, at people in general, and very definitely at him, that it finally emptied the reserves of anger. I had no more. Do I still get angry? Yes. Trust me, you would not want to read my mind when I’m on transit. But my mind isn’t engaged in anger toward him, in anger toward others like him. The nightmares have stopped. Yes, they could pick back up again. And he could still make contact, harassing me again. My guard isn’t down. But my mind isn’t stewing in fear and anger at him.

So, I’m no longer any of the piggies. Maybe a phoenix rising from the ashes of the first two houses. Keeping watch over the third until no longer needed. I don’t know, honestly. But I know something has shifted. I cannot forgive him for what he did. Nor can I forgive the others who made attempts at assault before him.

I know where I’ve been. I’m unsure of where I am now. And not one damn clue where I’m going. But I’m ready to truly heal and move on.