Posted in anxiety, C-PTSD, chronic pain, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, health, homeless, homelessness, housing, insomnia, job hunting, life, observations, PTSD, storage, urgent

8/11: Brain Battle: Real Life vs. Creativity

Another crazy week of running around to appointments and tasks and stuff. Emphasis on appointments.

Still need help with storage and such. One thing I realize is that once I get a place lined up and have the money to move, I want to have access to my stuff in storage because then I won’t have to repurchase things like kitchen supplies and bathroom stuff, and a mattress, etc. I’ll HAVE all of that. No bed frame, but I do want to get a MALM bed with storage from IKEA because if I move into a small studio, I’ll need ALL the storage I can get.

But it would be best if I retain everything I already have and use that as much as possible. I’ll gradually go through what’s left and sell/toss what I don’t use (or are sewing/crafting supplies).


Trying to find a balance between real life and my creativity isn’t easy when your waking moments are filled with appointments, a bag-up of belongings here at the shelter, PTSD triggers, chronic pain & fatigue, and people telling you to make a few dozen phone calls and you’re not good using the phone. Also: applying for jobs, eating moderately healthy (yeah, that didn’t work so well this week), and trying to sleep when your brain insists on running Worst Case Scenarios at random intervals during the night.


I’m in Month Five here. Technically, they want you through the system in four months. But I need stable income to get into something. Income I don’t have. I’m working on it.

Except one thing:

I don’t know if I can handle a full time job anymore. The past two weeks of being busy and running around M-F each week has drained me to the point where I feel like my mood has dipped back down and depression is hanging over me. I’m fucking exhausted. I still haven’t put my stuff from bag-up away. I have no energy to do anything. It sucks. I know it’ll turn around, but how to deal with it until it does? Not sure.


Gonna sign off for now. I’ll be back… I always am.

~A

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Posted in creativity, crowdfunding, depression, dreams, emergency, faith, homeless, insomnia, life, peace, poetry, storage, urgent

6/24: The Sky (#poetry)

(Still #crowdfunding as well. Time is running out as auction is at noon 6/28)

*******

I want to look at the sky.
Not some cinderblock wall.
Remind me I’m alive.
That I have dreams and goals.
That I wake each morning
And have another day
To plan, live, breathe.
I wake each morning
And see the sky.

Beckoning.
A dream lost in
Time.
In space.
Small steps.
Where is the niche?
I must fit somewhere.
Do I belong
To the sky?

Or am I ever meant to belong
Anywhere?
The sky
She calls.
Imagine.
Dream.
Plan.
But don’t forget
To
Wake each morning
And see the sky.

~A

Posted in dreams, family, grief, insomnia, life, music, observations, writing

Dammit, Brain!

(Ignore the fact I chose a pic of Portia, it’s 3:40am now…)

Dammit, Brain, it’s 3am. And you decide to dream about a random chance to meet Marilyn Manson. You aren’t even a fan. Stop doing random shit Brain and go back to sleep like you should.

So, because I can’t get back to sleep, I decided to look up Marilyn Manson and see why he comes up. Read part of a rather odd interview. And below is what I found.

Now I think I may understand why my brain did what it did. I read an article on MM. He lost his mother and then his father, whom he was really close to. And in the dream, we take a pic and then I mention that I’m just here by happenstance. He said he felt the need to come over, even though I wasn’t seeking him out. I briefly mention losing both parents and then being homeless, but bouncing back. And he gives me a hug.

There’s a common thread in our real lives. Both of us are “adult orphans” … and after his dad died, he knew his dad wouldn’t let him take time to grieve as he was super supportive and a fighter. When my dad died, I was in the middlenof NaNoWriMo and, despite everyone saying it would be okay if I didn’t do it that year (2014), I knew he wouldn’t want me to stop writing. So I didn’t.

Something about that… I didn’t know that about MM until I just looked it up. Subconscious is trying to say something…

~A

Posted in dreams, family, grief, insomnia, life, music, observations, writing

Dammit, Brain!

(Ignore the fact I chose a pic of Portia, it’s 3:40am now…)

Dammit, Brain, it’s 3am. And you decide to dream about a random chance to meet Marilyn Manson. You aren’t even a fan. Stop doing random shit Brain and go back to sleep like you should.

So, because I can’t get back to sleep, I decided to look up Marilyn Manson and see why he comes up. Read part of a rather odd interview. And below is what I found.

Now I think I may understand why my brain did what it did. I read an article on MM. He lost his mother and then his father, whom he was really close to. And in the dream, we take a pic and then I mention that I’m just here by happenstance. He said he felt the need to come over, even though I wasn’t seeking him out. I briefly mention losing both parents and then being homeless, but bouncing back. And he gives me a hug.

There’s a common thread in our real lives. Both of us are “adult orphans” … and after his dad died, he knew his dad wouldn’t let him take time to grieve as he was super supportive and a fighter. When my dad died, I was in the middlenof NaNoWriMo and, despite everyone saying it would be okay if I didn’t do it that year (2014), I knew he wouldn’t want me to stop writing. So I didn’t.

Something about that… I didn’t know that about MM until I just looked it up. Subconscious is trying to say something…

~A

Posted in anxiety, cats, chronic pain, community, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, faith, health, homeless, homelessness, insomnia, life, medical, Personal, storage, urgent

4/19/18: Running Ragged

Since last weeks’ close call with the auction, I’ve been running errands, going to appointments, and dealing with one very nasty pain flare from my back. After 3 days of barely being able to move, let alone get anything done, I’m finally emerging from the other side of this pain. I feel like it’s more than just my sciatica, but there’s no way to tell at this point if it’s from damage from the fall five-ish years ago. That’s my guess, but since they weren’t as aggressive as I would have liked in diagnosis (they only x-rayed my tailbone), there is no way to tell what type of soft tissue damage happened. Same with the fall in December. It took me two months before I could get any scans, and it was only x-rays again. I get it, I’m on Medicaid. They’re being cheap. But still.

With the help of several folks, I was able to keep auction at bay on storage. For now. To get it caught up to end of April, I need another 597 or so. I had hoped to get that in tasks, but earlier this week, someone hacked their site and the apps and all of Taskrabbit went down. It came back up part way yesterday, but it isn’t complete. So far, no clients. Hoping that changes soon.

I’m adjusting -slowly- to life here at the shelter. I think Portia is adjusting better as she’s gate-hopping when I have the door propped open (a baby gate, I’m loaning my second one to one of the other ladies). I’m still very sleep deprived. One other thing is that as someone with Celiac’s and other food issues, I can’t just buy the cheap stuff. So my food stamps dwindle fast. And Portia may need to switch to all canned food… not sure yet on her. My GP has sent in a referral for a new sleep study, so maybe I can get an A-PAP machine…

I know I’ve been silent since last week. The stress of the last minute save knocked me down hard. Then the pain, so it’s been a rough week. But I’m still here and coming up for air.

~A

Posted in activism, anxiety, chronic pain, community, cosplay, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, faith, family, friends, genealogy, homeless, homelessness, insomnia, life, research, society, storage, urgent

4/11/18: Mornings, Genealogy, and #crowdfunding

SHARE ME!!! Still asking for help, of course. I will keep updating when funds do come in.

Mornings are difficult for me. Life here at the residence shelter has been, well, an adjustment, to say the least. For the past year, I stayed with a retired couple of friends. Early? Nope!

Before that, my depression was so fierce, getting up before 9am was difficult. Between it and pain, mornings aren’t easy. But here I am getting up around 7am. I know what some of you may be thinking.

“Good! Then you won’t be so lazy.”

And those of you who will think that have likely never dealt with chronic pain, fatigue, and lifelong insomnia. Which certainly isn’t helped by the late night bed checks and me being a light sleeper.

I may go to bed at a reasonable time, but my brain just won’t shut up for at least an hour (if I’m lucky) after that. Last night, I still hadn’t gotten close to sleep by the time bed checks happened. I finally zonked out around 2am. Only to be woken by Portia around 5am. Then a bit more rest, but not full sleep, and the wake up yell at 7am by staff.

One thing I wish I’d inherited from my dad: he was out cold shortly after his head hit the pillow. How his kid (me) ended up being a lifelong insomniac is bewildering. I got so many other traits from him and his side…

Speaking of family/family history, I’ve put the idea out there about doing a genealogy group here. Teaching whomever is interested in how to search for their bloodlines and see where they end up.

I am also finally going to a group today on public speaking. We’re supposed to do three a week, or other regular activities can take the place of them (X number of work or volunteering hours count toward 1 group hour). This group is, I think, focused on developing public speaking skills to help use your voice in soeaking up for homeless advocacy.

More to come. Do remember to share posts and help me save my storage unit before tomorrow’s auction.

~A

4/7: long day, no big post. Still #urgent #crowdfunding

I have much of tomorrow off, so blog madness will possibly hit. I so desperately need the funds to save my stuff in storage. I had a task today, so my brain was on that. And swearing at bus drivers, obtaining more kleenex, and flipping off drivers who intentionally drove through standing water at the bus stop to hit us waiting at it. Assholes.

I’m trying to be patient. To be positive. But some days… not an easy task.

More tomorrow. I have a half-assed poem sitting, but not sure if it’s ready. Maybe something else will pop into my head…

~A

Posted in anxiety, cats, chronic pain, community, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, faith, friends, health, homeless, housing, insomnia, life, storage, urgent

3/27: swirling in my head

I desperately need to get funds sorted for storage ASAP. And I have a few post ideas swirling around in my brain… but I’m adjusting to shelter life and getting up early as fuck… and may either have brutal allergies (the sudafed has been put to use) or a mild cold. Either way, my head is all ‘bleh’ from stuffed sinuses and sleep deprivation.

Must go feed the furball. She’s pacing along the bed.

I need all the help I can get. And a small-ish miracle or two.

~A

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…

~A

Posted in adoption, anxiety, C-PTSD, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dogs, friends, grad school, health, insomnia, life, medical, PTSD, sexual assault, society, storage, urgent

1/5/18: Ch-ch-ch-changes

I gotta start somewhere, right? Other than the crowdfunding plea for storage… which is up around $700 for two months and late fees… but on to what I want to write about.

Two months ago, I had my final session with my therapist of almost 3 years. She helped me get through a bunch of shit. But she was moving on to another office somewhere and my latest reauth there was due (county clinic, annual reauthorization to see if you still need help). I’ve asked my doc and such for names of PTSD/C-PTSD therapists, but haven’t gotten very far.

And I’ve gotten decidedly more twitchy over the past two months.

I’m handling it, but barely. The anxiety is one thing I can deal with, but the brain fog and seemingly frozen-in-place feeling haven’t budged. To the point where I fucked up my final term of grad school… again.

It feels like … well … I can see myself moving forward, getting school DONE, doing all the functioning things I need to do to dig myself out of my current situation. But I can’t actually DO those things. I can’t MOVE. I’m stuck. I can see it, but can’t seem to do it. I do have moments here and there where I’m able to focus and clear the fog for an hour or so and do things that need to be done.

Like earlier today. I called the customer service line for the mental health division for my health insurance (Basically medicaid). I chatted with the guy (Joe, who was freaking awesome and supportive), and he emailed me two clinics. I’m now waitlisted for one, and the other I went through the ‘phone interview’ to give them basic info to see if I’ll find a good fit in their clinic. They’re all doctoral students.

I also called customer service to change my banking info for my Target REDcard debit card. Their hold music was saccharine and the agent was exasperating… but I got through it.

I “adulted.”

Mind you, this shit isn’t easy when you’re uncomfortable just being on the phone and you’d rather be doing other things.

As to the title I’m using… I’m moving to another room in the house… but also thinking of other … bigger things. I’m thinking of school, of work, of trying to work WITH my PTSD as I do with my ADD. I was diagnosed with ADD when I was 21 and was on Ritalin for a year and a half. It wasn’t doing anything noticeable, so I weaned myself off and dealt with life unmedicated. I’ve learned how to with with it. It’s how I’ve managed to do NaNoWriMo since 2005, winning each year.

But PTSD? I have no clue.


I know he’ll never see this, but Joe at OHP congratulated me on handling the situation on December 29th on the MAX really well. Thank you, Joe. All I’ve really been able to see of myself from that incident was the dissociating, the anger, and trying to not kill the bastard. But you pointed out that I handled it really well and showed great restraint. Thank you.


I’m also looking at getting a PTSD Service Dog. I have one person who says Dobies aren’t ideal, but the loyalty and bond with one is kinda the reason why I want one as my dog. They’re protective by nature and if trained to not attack, but silently guard and protect, that’s what I want. Also in the training, they’d be able to sense anxiety increases and help calm me down. There are others who are all, “hell yeah, a Dobie would be perfect.” As this would be for PTSD and not other types of service work, I think they’d be ideal. And there are dog-related sites that say the same. Other sites say no. I think it depends on the training and temperament of the individual dog.


I don’t know when I’ll be able to finish school. Hopefully soon. But I know one thing: I need to make some massive changes… and soon.

~A