Posted in animal welfare, anxiety, C-PTSD, cats, chronic pain, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dogs, emergency, friends, health, homeless, housing, life, music, poverty line, PTSD, storage, transitions, urgent

3/20/18: #crowdfunding, adjusting, and some bad juju

I received one donation today… to that person, many thank yous. Still have a long way to go. I want to get storage covered and caught up by the end of the month. Auction is 4/12, but once April 1st rolls around, another months rent gets tacked on, so the total goes to about 1400 or so (taking into consideration late fees and all that stuff).

I’ve spent the day adjusting to the new space here at the shelter. While my room is a bit larger than most on this floor, my next door neighbor, who also has a kitty (she’s 6 and a beauty), mentioned that some bad juju has happened in this room and that may be partly why Portia is uneasy. I need to cleanse the fuck out of this room… without setting the smoke alarm off. I’d love to smudge it, but my smudge stick is “somewhere” and I can’t really go get another one. Same applies for my salt bowl and candles. I can’t risk setting off the alarm. Ideas would be great.

Twin size bed, as opposed to the single width rollaway I’ve been sleeping on for a year. Those, for people who haven’t heard of that size, are about 2 feet wide, where a Twin size mattress is about a foot wider.

Portia is still mostly hiding. Partly from being in a new place, partly from all the noise (doggos in the hall being noisy doggos), and likely some from the bad air/juju in this room. We have a dresser, small closet (litter boxes are in the bottom of that and fit perfectly), and a two tier plastic shelving thing. And a chair.

The Wi-Fi isn’t ideal, at least in the rooms, but I don’t expect super fast anything. Well, I’m gonna go sneak in a shower and then relax the rest of the evening… it’s been a long and somewhat stressful day.

As I was typing this and an FB post up, Portia came out of hiding and is now purring on the bed next to me. She’s still uneasy, but getting there. I’ve discovered having classical music playing kinda low helps buffer the noise from outside the door.

And more tomorrow! I start physical therapy (again) tomorrow afternoon. Maybe a poem tonight, if I get inspired.


Posted in anxiety, C-PTSD, community, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, friends, homeless, housing, job hunting, life, Personal, poverty line, PTSD, society, storage, urgent

3/19/18: #crowdfunding, packing, and shameless begging

The main reason I do need the help with saving storage this time around is because my income the last few months has been really low. I’m hoping it picks up now that IKEA has acquired Taskrabbit, which is the company I work through to get clients. I do also still need to get a steady job.

I also finally got my heading scheduled for disability. In June. We shall see how this goes.

I’m also packing stuff up tonight to move to the shelter.

My window overlooks the courtyard, so nice and quiet as far as I can tell. The room isn’t huge, but still clean and quiet.

I wish society didn’t pass homeless people and the issue by. Ignoring us won’t make us disappear. It just makes the problem worse. We are the invisible.

My mind is all over the place right now, so this post is reflective of that.

Any help, sharing this post or donating… or both…. both is a good option if you can.


Posted in anxiety, cats, community, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, health, homeless, housing, life, Personal, poverty line, society, storage, transitions, urgent

3/19/18: #crowdfunding and moving

Yes, still any help will do. Share, retweet, donate, etc… trying to save my belongings so that I can get through this period of homelessness and regain my sanity and other things I feel I’ve lost along the way.

I got the call earlier this morning. The room at the shelter is ready for me. I’m not ready. But I’ll head down in a bit, check it out, and I’m allowed to put something in there. The door will be locked anyway, so it’ll be fine. I wasn’t expecting this until tomorrow, so I’m a bit surprised.

My hope with moving forward is that I’ll be able to get steady work soon and be able to move into a place of my own again…

Portia is NOT gonna like being crammed into the carrier again. But she’s on meds to calm her own anxiety now, so hopefully I’ll get less scratches this time.

I’m going to try to keep blogging as much as possible over the next few days, but this transition will be interesting.

Not much this time… I’ll be back later…


Posted in chronic pain, crowdfunding, emergency, food cravings, health, homeless, housing, life, medical, poverty line, storage, urgent

3/18/18: R2: #crowdfunding and …

Yup, another one for the night. There may also be a poem later… depending on how long it takes for me to fall asleep.

Yes, #crowdfunding. You can use the PP link in the sidebar. If you’re on mobile, you can scroll to the bottom of a page and it should have the sidebar links there. I also have an FB fundraiser for this. My income via Taskrabbit has been super slow since the first of the year, hence this need. I haven’t been able to pay storage rent.

I’m gonna get really annoying after a while. Especially when my brain can’t come up with decent post subjects.

I have many things I’m very open about and one of them (at least over on FB) is having Celiac’s. This, despite many assumptions, is not an allergy to wheat/gluten, but a delayed reaction in the body. Basically, the body doesn’t like it much and trying to eat it causes the little villi in the small intestines to not work well and thus, can’t absorb nutrients like they should. You WANT them to work. They like to absorb things like magnesium and iron and all the minerals and vitamins that help your body work like it should. But instead, your body ends up craving these things more because the villi can’t work like they need to. This can cause a lot of issues. Muscles don’t like starving and they need those things to work well.

Anyway… along with Celiac’s, other things like an intolerance/sensitivity to things like soy can happen. I knew about this a few years ago, which is why I switched back from soy milk to lactose-free regular milk. Well, that soy thing is getting worse. I discovered (the hard way… and you really don’t want to know the TMI of the hard way) that soy is in a LOT of gluten free things… and other things I enjoy. Once I stop using it and be more conscious of what’s in the food I’m buying, I can gradually bring some back in, but in very small amounts. There may be others as well. I know I have issues digesting corn in some formats. But that hasn’t caused pain and other (TMI) issues.

I bring this up because I know we tend to focus so much on wheat and gluten and forget that other things might also be affecting us.

With moving into a shelter/transitional housing soon, I have to pick what comes with me. I don’t get to bring much. Hence why I need to get storage back on track… I have things that need to go into storage.

I need to also get back to my writing… not just random poetry on here, but my fiction. I have so many things to do or get done, but I know I can’t do it all. Right now, I need to focus on getting into the shelter and saving storage.

I’m getting the stink-eye from Portia… I guess it’s time to wind things down.


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, 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 C-PTSD, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dogs, emergency, eviction, homeless, life, poverty line, PTSD, storage, urgent

2/25/18: Addendum (i.e. Holy FUCKNUTS!)

(CW: sexual/rape terminology)

So, I was thinking about the nightmare from last night. It hit me what the assault in it is a metaphor for.

In 1994, it took me about 6 weeks to realize the abusive relationship that caused my PTSD was, in fact, abusive, and began to pull away from The Asshole. Which was when the rapes and assaults began (not everything involved penetration, hence using both terms).

The point in the nightmare where I’m hurt by the person I know IRL is 6-8 weeks in. He grabs my wrist as I pull away (distancing myself from The Asshole in 1994) and breaks my arm.

So, this nightmare was a metaphor for the shithole relationship in 1994.

As I said in the previous post, I’ve done soooo much therapy dealing with The Asshole, I have that handled. What I can’t do is allow men in my life now to touch me. The men (not counting family) who are on my “all clear” list can be counted on one hand, no repeats. All else MUST ask permission for a hug. I just can’t handle the physical contact.

Oh, and I so need a stun gun. Until I get my service dog, I need something.


Posted in anxiety, C-PTSD, chronic pain, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dogs, emergency, friends, homeless, housing, job hunting, life, Personal, poverty line, PTSD, society, storage, urgent

STICKY: Meh, Grumble #crowdfunding

STATUS: need to raise funds for storage before end of February.

I’d normally prefer to make a regular post and ramble about various things, including needing funds for storage (again, I know). My income isn’t steady and last month I made less than $300 total… this month? I’m on par to make less than $200. That’s just how it is. One month could be awesome and the next could suck horribly. So I’m two months behind and need around $700 (have less than half). I have a fundraiser on FB and I have the PP on here (sidebar, unless you’re on mobile, then scroll to the bottom).

This post will be stickied to the top for now. If I can’t bring myself to write a whole post for some reason, I’ll change my content in this one. For now: yes, I’m still job hunting; yes, I’m still homeless; yes, I really am living in the basement now; and yes, I’m still battling my PTSD and it isn’t improving. I’m going through the process with one therapy place for intake and will see how that goes. Right now, storage is more important than raising money for a service dog. It will go to auction if not paid up ASAP.

The thing with PTSD is that it sucks almost all of your energy and ability to do the shit you need to do. I’m hoping therapy helps.