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 The FB fundraiser is no longer active, as it takes a couple of days for funds to transfer.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

Advertisements
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 artsy stuff, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, homeless, homelessness, life, peace, poetry, storage, urgent, writing

6/12/18: The Skies (#poetry & #crowdfunding)

(Yes, still gonna tack on the plea for help with storage.)

POETRY!!!!

They plead.
The skies do.
Look.
Be more.
Where you are
Is not
Where you are
Meant
To be.
Dream.
Plan.
Open them.
Your eyes are supposed
To see.
Be more than what
Is in the
Mirror.
Explore who you
Are
And who you
Are meant
To be.

~A

Posted in activism, anxiety, bigotry, bugaboos, community, crowdfunding, depression, faith, family, homeless, homelessness, housing, individuality, life, observations, peace, poverty line, society, storage

5/17: Assume Nothing… It Gets You Nowhere (& #crowdfunding)

Dear Bast, my life right now has become Hollaback Girl.

Let me explain. I’m listening to a mix of popular songs on my iTunes. Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani started playing as I opened this page to write. This part especially.

“I heard that you were talking shit
And you didn’t think that I would hear it
People hear you talking like that, getting everybody fired up
So I’m ready to attack, gonna lead the pack
Gonna get a touchdown, gonna take you out
That’s right, put your pom-poms down, getting everybody fired up.”

This part. This is me here at the shelter. We have a bullying problem here and I know some of them are playing me, being nice to me but still talking shit about my friend behind her back. Sometimes including me in the gossip bullshit. Last week, I stepped up. She had left the room and they continued to gang up and acting like the “cheerleaders” or popular kids, picking on the loners. I asked them, politely at first, to chill out, calm down… you name it. Then they got on my ass. Yeah… no. They were reported, warned to stop the behavior. A week later, they’ve returned to talking shit, making up rumors, etc.

I talked to the person at the desk about what they were doing this morning. She basically told me they have to be told while it’s happening (I had something to go to, so I didn’t have the time, but they were talking shit about her again).

The behavior here of women who are technically middle-aged adults is that of childish, cliquish spoiled brats. The Mean Girls.

I have tried to understand this behavior. I was always the outcast kid. The loner. The weirdo. The one who preferred books and music to parties and hanging out with the girls. Hell, I didn’t even have a first date until my senior year and he wasn’t even in high school (odd story, but he was really a perfect gentleman).

I see it also on NextDoor with people from my old neighborhood being angry, childish jerks about the homeless. We don’t have enough resources even for those who want them. But the anger and entitlement puzzles me. When empathy is brought up, they respond with, “well, empathy is all well and good, but they still do …” They give this attitude that it’s the city’s fault when it’s society’s fault.

I’ve been talking to my therapist about some of this. Damn near everything I bring up circles back to two things that oppose each other in some way: Wanting acceptance as an independent, unique person in society AND finding and wanting a stronger community.

Look to what we consider third world countries. Multiple generations living under the same roof; the elder women of the community work together to care for each other and others in the local community.

We don’t do that here. Far from it, in fact. We move away and have our own homes and many raise their kids and enlist strangers to help them. The sense of community is gone. Too many don’t know their own neighbors. Not knowing leads to fear of those who live next door. Who knows what that guy down the street does for a living. There’s a black kid walking down the sidewalk… a Muslim family moving in across the way… and because no one wants to build the community and meet their neighbors, fear stirs up… police are called on the black kid… rumors start stirring that maybe that Muslim family is really a terrorist cell.

And no one steps out of the pack of hungry hyenas to TALK to the black kid… to the Muslim family.

Assumptions are made. With those assumptions, innocent lives are endangered. Even killed.

If we all took the time to listen and learn and build community with -everyone- around us: rich, poor, housed, homeless, men, women, straight, LGBTQIA+, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Jewish, black, white, brown… maybe -just maybe- we can stop the fear mongering and hate. Communication is absolute key. Is this simplistic? Maybe. But it’s a basic concept that I think our society has forgotten.

But I’m just over in my little corner in my room in a homeless shelter with my cat. Watching the world set itself on fire.

~A

PS: Yes, I’m still crowdfunding. I’ve been playing catch up on other things and still need help with storage. I want to get it caught up before the end of May.

Posted in activism, anxiety, bugaboos, C-PTSD, community, crowdfunding, emergency, empath life, faith, friends, history, homeless, homelessness, life, observations, peace, politics, PTSD, society, storage, urgent

4/10/18: Change and #crowdfunding

Post 4 of ? I think?

SHARE, PLEASE?
PayPal is the easiest and fastest way.
Auction is at noon on April 12th.
I need a bit under $1400, but would prefer a bit of a cushion at $1500.


POETRY TIME!!

The Cycle of Change

History becomes the future.
The present is the past.
When do we stop repeating the cycle?

When do we evolve?
Learn to be better?
Stop killing our future?

To hate for the sake of
Hating.
Instead of loving for the sake of being?

How do we grow?
When we refuse to learn.
Even from ourselves.

When we stop the cycle,
We learn.
We grow.

We evolve
We do better than our ancestors
Filled with hate and fear.

~A

Posted in C-PTSD, chronic pain, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, empath life, faith, friends, grief, health, life, peace

3/8/18: The Flame (poem)

Another off-the-cuff poem for the night. Many of them are train of thought and unedited. Enjoy.

******

Brightly burning
The flame flickers
As I walk past.

The light grows dimmer
As the distance grows.
The light does not reach me here.

I see it across the room
Calm now, for no one
Disturbs the air around it.

It dims, the wick is not willing.
No matter how much
I wish it to thrive.

I send my thoughts of hope
Of peace and healing to
Those in my life who need it the most.

The light helps me focus my words
My thoughts strengthen as the wax
Melts away to absorb the pain.

Give it all over to that which can take
The pain and return only solace
For those who need it.

Give the flame what it needs to
Survive. Your anguish is taken away
By that which only gives light

In return.

~A

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.

***

Cats:

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!

~A

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.

~A 

Posted in C-PTSD, chronic pain, crowdfunding, depression, disability, health, homeless, insomnia, life, peace, PTSD, storage, urgent

12/13: ask? 

Storage: not sure if I’ll have anywhere near enough for December. Not getting as many tasks as last month. Any help to keep it up would be vastly appreciated. 

A Peace Offering: I can’t go into details, but there’s something I want to do that I’d like to do before Christmas, but between storage and such, I can’t place the order I need to in time and also save up for storage. It isn’t wildly expensive, but add it to storage (302 + late fees), and I really don’t have the funds. 

This has been the suckiest year on record for me… and that says a lot as I’ve never had any one really good year. I’m trying, but shit is holding me down. 

Anywhoooo…

This late night begging/rambling brought to you by pain meds at 1am.

~A

Posted in crowdfunding, depression, empath life, faith, life, peace, poetry, storage, urgent

9/13: Good & Bad

(Midnight poetry. Still #crowdfunding as well. Spread the word.)

It doesn’t matter
Who
You
THINK
You
Are.
All have
Good
&
Bad days.
Learn from
Each and
Every
Moment.
Live without
Fear.
Be who you
Wish to be.
Do not wait for
Another
To find yourself and
Happiness.
Peace within
Brings peace around you.
Forget perfection.
Be the best YOU can be
Stop comparing
To others.
Learn from your
Good and Bad days.
When you choose to learn,
Fear weakens within.
Then LIFE can truly
Begin.

~A