What is Motivation?

My client/boss asked me today

In my late teens/twenties, I had a goal. Maybe you could call it a motivation. Because my education got all kinds of fucked up, and then senior year I was able to connect a few dots. That’s a longer story.

At that point, I decided that I would do whatever I could to encourage other kids that if I could do it despite the lack of encouragement around me. I did that. My mid 30’s I realized I had accomplished that goal several times over. Then I decided I’d live my life for myself. I had poured out everything nurturing to boost those kids self esteem.

Then I was okay, still struggling with motivation and C-PTSD. As well as depression, GAD, and being undiagnosed Autistic (that will be changing come Wednesday).

I achieved my goal. I didn’t really find a new one. And now, at 50, I’m just floating on the water. I’ve worked toward my MLIS, but I’m stuck having to pay for my last fuckup. Then I have one semester left to finish it. But for now, I’m going to apply to SNHU (rolling admission) for a MFA in writing.

I was on track to get stuff going and then last weekend happened and my survival mode dial got turned all the way to 10. I’m coming back down from that level. I got past the dramatics of the situation and now I can get back down to a more manageable level.

But I still lack motivation.

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.

Love,

Your Human, Amanda

10/16: Wake Up Tomorrow #metoo

TW/CW: Talk of suicide, sexual assault, C-PTSD, etc…

I’ve talked about all of these things in spades over the lifespan of this blog. With the #metoo tag flying around on FB and Twitter the last two days, I felt like expanding on mine.

Now, I have (at some point) ticked off all the times I was sexually assaulted.

• At 17, by a 22 y.o. acquaintance.
• At 19, by a blind date. Tried to force me to perform oral on him, pushing my head down. I broke free and threatened to call the police.
• At 19, by a guy I met at a Twelfth Night event… friends invited him to our Rocky Horror outing later that evening. While he had been in costume, he was mostly a gentleman (save for trying to un-lace my bodice in public)
• At 21/22. After 6 weeks in an increasingly abusive relationship, I started to pull away from him, which he noticed. He spent the next 2 and a half months raping and assaulting me (using various areas of my body to ‘get his rocks off’) all against my will. I cried, I begged, I said no every damn time, but even making me bleed repeatedly didn’t matter to him. This happened 2-3 times a week… on a good week.

Those are the major, or most distinctive, events. Getting catcalled, being told by some older guy in Chicago (as we passed each other in the crosswalk) that “damn, you got some bigguns!” … no matter what I’m wearing, what my body language is saying (usually “don’t fucking get near me, asshole”), what I’m doing, I’ve had hands brush against my butt, breasts, etc… hands that should stay up near my shoulders wandering down… at a club one night (partly why I fucking HATE clubs) getting dragged out onto the dance floor and made to dance with some stranger, who kept putting his hand on my thigh and slipping it up to my hip under my skirt (which wasn’t that fucking long to begin with). I was 18, I think. It was an “Under 21” club.

Do I need to go on? I think I’ve made my point.

This shit happens every damn day to women of all skin colors, sexualities, cis or trans… you name it. Fuck, I got catcalled just a month or so ago… wearing all baggy grungy clothes heading to the MAX stop (I think I was going to an appt or something). Me with my mohawk and baggy clothes and beat up sneakers and a cane… getting catcalled.

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I’ve also, as I think I’ve said in previous posts, had many phases or short contemplations of suicide. High school, a period in my 30’s when my asshole doctor decided to put me on Prozac, which made me want to slit my fucking wrists so badly, it outdid the suicidal ideations of my high school years. That shit fucked me up so badly.

In the past couple of years, I’ve had shorter bursts of contemplating it. Usually when I’ve been in full panic mode over possible eviction as well as earlier this year with the eviction itself. I lost count how many times I sat on my bed or my couch … or in the bathtub … thinking of why the fuck I should keep living? Then I got either of the girls, Portia or JoJo when she was still alive, just coming up to me and purring and either nudging me or tapping my arm or leg with a paw.

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Life isn’t easy. I’m dealing with C-PTSD, my asshole ex cyberstalking me like I’m his damn “internet chew toy” … being homeless in a tentative situation that needs to come to an end, but my means to get back into my own place again are virtually non-existent. Trying to finish grad school, find decent work, organize my stuff in storage, handle medical and dental appts, go on tasks to make some income, and remember to take my meds and eat decently. Some of those, especially the later things I listed, are basic, normal-ish things I can handle… working all the big stuff around them is the hardest part. With chronic fatigue and pain, getting up at a decent hour that isn’t close to noon, but earlier in the day, is not always easy to do.

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So, you may wonder what the subject heading of this post means… here’s my lesson and philosophy behind it:

Look back up at all the shit I’ve been through. Add verbal and emotional abuse by some family, used and abused by people I thought were friends, etc… I’ve dealt with a lot.

Wake Up Tomorrow

I adopted this years ago during a bad run… I think it was later in high school. Say you had one of THE shittiest days you can remember in recent months. Everything went wrong and in some seemingly catastrophic way, or at least that’s how it feels. You may already be battling a period of depression or severe pain. You contemplate ending things. You’re absolutely SURE tomorrow is going to also suck and you can’t imagine things getting better any time soon.

So you think about it.

But you can’t guarantee tomorrow will suck. Shit, you don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. Maybe it’ll suck, maybe it’ll be awesome, but you won’t know unless you wake up tomorrow. And the days following it. You can’t know for sure that it’ll be horrendously awful. Unless you wake up tomorrow. Go to sleep, get some rest, cry if you need to (man, I’m surprised the tear stains aren’t permanent on my face by now), and wake up tomorrow. Sounds simple, I know. Take each and every day as it comes.

Will that work for everyone dealing with shit? No. I know it works for me. I’ve had friends and a few strangers, in the past 24 hours or so, call me brave. I’ve done therapy off and on since I was 16. I understand so much about my past, but I don’t really know how I’m getting through it… except for one thing:

I wake up every day.

I’ve had close calls, due to medical stuff, not attempts on my part, and they’ve taught me this: Not everyone gets the chance to wake up the next day. No one knows when they’re going to die. The fact that, despite pain and all kinds of other things, I wake up every day and am able to feed my floofy monster kitty, that my heart is still pumping blood, my lungs are still taking in oxygen, my legs work… mostly. I have those days when my legs/back/feet/hips/knees/etc just rebel and go, “nope!! what was that about going somewhere today? yeah… not happening, bitch.”

Life isn’t easy. But I figure that as long as I keep waking up every day, I have a fighting chance to make things better. Never know unless you wake up.

~A

8/20: community #crowdfunding

It’s frustrating to see people talk of building community and espouse Liberal values (I am Liberal myself, in case you didn’t know)… or even what should be Christian values of community and lifting up those who need it… 

And yet, when someone swallows their pride and asks (and yes, I’m aware that this is not a 1st time for me… but I’m trying to get work and it feels like I’m facing headwinds) for help, it falls mostly on “deaf ears” … 

I do what I can to help others, but sometimes my limitations hold me back. I don’t own a vehicle, so I can’t help most friends move… and my injuries prevent me from a lot of other things. 

I keep thinking (and hoping) that each round of shit I face is the last round… 

I need to get storage paid ASAP. I simply ask for folks to share. Spread the word. That’s free. If you can donate, great! Sharing is still helpful.

~A

7/31: #YouCaring, #Crowdfunding, Storage, and Stuff

I really didn’t want to go this route, but here I am. In the menu, you’ll see a new page/link.

YouCaring: Saving Penguin’s Possessions

Come tomorrow morning, August rent for storage will be tacked on, adding another $280 to my current $351. There will likely be other fees attached to July rent.

The goal is to get the excess raised ASAP, preferably before the 15th. The sooner, the better. Why? Because I need access to my nicer shoes for things like interviews. The only interview-worthy shoes I have with me are a pair of ballet flats with skulls on them. They’re not obvious, as they’re woven into the design. I also need access to the rest of my tools and supplies.

I currently have 240. I’ll need $631+ after tomorrow. They don’t take partial payments. I’m doing what I can to make money here and there through Taskrabbit, but I can get a task a week or nothing or four in a week. I do have this ongoing one, but the pay rate isn’t great.

Through my VR Coach, we’re getting some job leads, and I sent him a link for a library job that pays pretty decently. He’ll talk to them some more tomorrow. My hopeful goal is to be in my own place, or pretty damn close to getting into one, by my birthday, which is two months away. I hate being in flux like this.

I also need to start scrounging up the funds to submit my application for second citizenship in Switzerland. I have the family info laid out and verified. I’m on file with the consulate. I just need to come up with the funds and do a bit of brushing up on many things Swiss before going to SF for the interview (at the consulate). Starting next year, the process gets even more restrictive, so I’d like to get my application in before the end of the year. The fee is between $600 and $700.

Granted, I also need to get my US passport as well. I’ve never needed one.

Someone asked me recently what my dream job was. This is my response:

To travel around Switzerland staying in the different villages. What would I do there? Transcribe and digitize the parish records for births, marriages, and deaths of those in each village. So that people like me can access this information by a much easier-to-process request, as it would all be in a database. It took months and several nudges in a forum to find someone who could track down my paternal line. One woman finally found my great-grandfather, who was born and married twice there. His first wife likely died in childbirth. His second wife is my great-grandmother. My grandfather was born here in the US, but having his parents born there gives me a greater chance of obtaining federal citizenship (there are 3 levels of Swiss citizenship). She was able to trace back five more generations of the male line. 

I don’t know how to go about getting this job. Who would I be working for? The government or the Catholic Church, as it’s their records I would be working with. I don’t know. But it is one dream job. 

Until I do go there, I still have to survive here. Which means work. Which also means not losing treasured memories and items I’ve collected. Which means swallowing my pride yet again and asking for help.

Hopefully, I’ll also be able to go back and finish my degree starting in a few weeks. I have several hoops to jump through, but I only need one semester with no mayhem such as an eviction to mess me up. I want to get it done. Get my hands on that precious piece of paper I can hold up to all the naysayers and say, “SEE? I’M NOT STUPID! I BEAT THE ODDS!”

I have survived so much in my life. I refuse to be held back from achieving my master’s degree. One semester. Two electives and my capstone. Seven credits.

I just have a few hoops to jump through to get through it.

Reducing the stress of finances will help. Any help is appreciated. Even just sharing links.

~A

5/16: running out of #crowdfunding time.

Share me! Help me make a miracle happen!

Quick begging- er- #crowdfunding post. My PT from yesterday has me down for the moment. Voc Rehab had to cancel as she is apparently out of the office… at least this time I checked my phone before leaving. *sigh*

What can I say to prove this is real? 

Here’s some of it, before the space you see got packed with furniture and more boxes. This really is virtually my whole life about to be auctioned away. My costumes and a few Steampunk projects, among so much more… 

I’m not sure where else to turn. Two days to pull off a miracle.

~Amanda 

2/27: Energy and #Crowdfunding Needed #crashspace

Please share this wherever possible. Get creative…. I normally have creative ideas, but I’m too stressed out with all of this. Please do not suggest 211. None of the charities I can use have any money or shelter space (other ideas are welcome). Help me boost the visibility.

I spent a fair chunk of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday organizing or moving things over to storage (9 hours total organizing, then a few hours last night hauling most of the furniture over with M). I spent a chunk of today sleeping because I needed to rest up. I have a multitude of old and newer injuries that are acting up because of all of this, so rest was much needed.

But I still need help in whatever forms are available. Whether it’s a donation via PP or YC, or if you’re local to Portland, OR and have a safe space.

• Couch or spare room/bed
• Cat permitted, but no dogs in the home (Portia has a fear of dogs. I’m fine with them)
• Access to fridge and bathroom.
• I can help with cooking.

If I had the money, I’d either try getting into a studio now with only a few days needed for crash space, or even stay in a hotel room with a kitchenette and that allows cats. There aren’t many… the nearest one is close to me, but it isn’t cheap. Then there are two way out on 82nd. I’ve lived out there… everything in my life is close in. I’d rather stay closer in.

Either of those options takes more money than I have right now. And I need to pay for storage for March as well.

~Amanda

2/25: #crowdfunding & #crashspace

This won’t be horribly long. I don’t think. When I’m tired, I ramble. We must be out -technically- by midnight 3/2, but I’d prefer handing keys back before they close the office that day, which is at 6pm. I need to get Portia transported off to wherever we’re staying temporarily, as well as the clothes and things I’m taking with me.

So, here’s the deal, I am asking that anyone who sees this share it, or the blog in general, or the YouCaring campaign, as far and wide as possible.

Two main ways anyone can help:

1. Sharing my blog and/or the YouCaring campaign.
2. If local, or know people local to me, and you know of crash space w/o dogs, let’s talk.

SHARING/CROWDFUNDING: I understand the idea that “well, I’m not local, how can I help?” but you can. Sharing and spreading the word that a writer/grad student and her senior cat (Portia is roughly 11 years old, although she’s like me in the sense that neither of us seem to act our age very much) are about to be homeless and raising funds can help just as much as someone local having crash space. You don’t need to be local to help. Donating any amount, either via YouCaring or PayPal (both in the sidebar, although the YC one is just text. Unlike GFM, they don’t have fancy widgets) helps get me and my fluffy companion a little closer to shelter of some sort.

CRASH SPACE: If you’re local and have crash space without dogs (and are careful about leaving doors to the outside closed. She is chipped, but she loves trying to explore and escape), let me know somehow. If you know someone near transit here in the PDX area who has crash space, let me know. I did grab one of the harnesses from storage, so I may *try* to get her to wear it… then I can maybe get a tag made in a rush.

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I spent 4 hours yesterday and another 3-ish today hip-deep in my storage unit trying to organize the ever-loving crud out of it to make it usable (hey, the furniture can still stash things). I’m exhausted and in a lot of pain from it. And I’m moving most, if not all, the rest of the furniture over tomorrow. Some by hand and some with M and her vehicle. It’s going to be a tight fit. I do have a pair of IKEA Billy bookcases I’m willing to part with for a reasonable rate (the narrow, short ones). I’ll take pics of them tomorrow.

Getting the weaving loom in there will be…. amusing. I may have to do the tidying up of the space before hauling it over there on the flatbed. I’m trying not to do too much walking things over. Primarily  because my body can’t take too much of that. I will do kitchen and bathroom after tomorrow.

I’d prefer to not put pantry items in storage, no matter how well they may be sealed. Some things will come with me, but most…. I guess cans can go to storage, but boxes/bags of things shouldn’t.

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I will need to pay rent on the storage unit for March. I got this month free, but with pretty much my whole life in that storage unit, I really do need to keep payments up (and my dad’s memorial flag is in there, among many other deeply personal items).

More later… I’m trying not to fall over from exhaustion. I have bruises I can’t explain…. moving when you have time to plan things out and have the funds on hand to take care of everything is a great idea… but this is not that kind of move. I’ve managed to push it out a month… mostly because of how much I have and only having help on the weekends.

See? I told you I ramble when I’m tired…. okay, off to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be yet another interesting day.

~Amanda

2/22/17: State of the Dragon #crowdfunding

Obligatory SHARE THIS, DAMMIT!! line at the top of the post.

Status: Trying not to crumple up into a ball.

Hearing is tomorrow morning and I do not have an attorney to help me. I’ve tried getting one, but no one is bothering. I have a letter from my doctor detailing some of my diagnoses, including fatigue and back pain (which is multitudinous in and of itself).

I am well aware I may get 10 days, at the max, to clear out, but my hope is that this will give me the time to raise some funds (PP and YouCaring links in the sidebar are both active) to get Portia and I back on our own six paws (she has 4, I technically only have 2 for standing). Even if only temporarily. The thought of trying to use a suite motel or something to stay for a week or two is costly at best. But it would be a clean option where I can bring my food and maybe bring Portia. But I’m going to need a lot of help. (Glanced at the one nearest to me and holy shitballs, that’s expensive. Forget it.)

I’d prefer to find a friend or FoaF who has a steady place… spare room or something, no dogs, no letting my cat outside. Preferably close-ish to central/Downtown PDX. Someone who would let me stay there in return for helping around the place … I’m a decent cook. My ability to do in-depth cleaning is nominal due to the above-mentioned back issues.

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Before I’m out of this place for good, I MUST have a forwarding address. I’d prefer a PO Box, but I don’t have the funds accessible at the moment to get one. I can’t even get a box of kleenex… seriously.

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I’ll know more after the hearing tomorrow morning. It’ll be a challenge trying to talk to the judge with my laryngitis. But I’ll do my best.

~Dragon

2/17 Update: Eviction and Stuff

SHARE! SHARE! SHARE!

I’m sick… again… so I honestly can’t remember if I said I was just letting it go to a full “on the record” eviction. Last weekend, I got help from a few friends and a few new friends in getting things packed up and off to storage. But there was no way I could get the last of it out in time (I was out of it and in a LOT of pain, which was clouding my ability to make decisions). Also, that whole “where am I going to stay with Portia” issue.

On Monday, I hauled ass down to the courthouse and filed the papers for a hearing. It’s scheduled for the 23rd. This gives me at least this one weekend coming up to get stuff out.

Here’s the thing: I’ve tried the LDS church and the local person heading my area doesn’t have anything to help right now. I’ve been either sick, busy, or in too much pain to go down to the Catholic church… I may try today after my doctor’s appt. The other local charities are pretty much out of any assistance as well if they have temporary housing, they’re full; if they normally help with emergency funding, they’re out of said funding. **

So, I’m trying to find crash space without dogs but I can bring Portia with me. Not having much luck. And the shelters are no place for a cat… and they aren’t exactly the safest to begin with….

I know I’m going into the rental market with an eviction on my record. I’ve gotten opinions on this from every possible side. What I need right now is a place to crash that’s clean and safe for me and Portia and is close to transit. Then I can focus my time on finishing school and finding work. Then I can get back on my feet and into a studio of my own with Portia.

Any funds you can spare to help cover next month’s storage or getting me into a place is much appreciated.

I brought JoJo’s ashes home yesterday. I still don’t have her urn, but it’s on my Amazon wishlist…. at least to hold it there until I can get it. Need to look at memory boxes as well. One was given to me for Jack when he passed away so one of his toys, his collar, etc are in there. Eventually.

~Amanda

** Please do NOT tell me to call 211. Been there, done that, and there’s nothing.