Feeling Powerless

More night terrors. Well, they call them “night”, but I usually have mine early morning. Yell and scream, and curse in my sleep. Another unrestful night. I wake up exhausted and aching everywhere. Even the joints in my fingers hurt as I type this with one finger on my phone.

The anxiety is high, my depression is high. Feeling powerless over everything in my life.

I envy those in control. I have no income, the transcription company changed their metrics, and I got bumped back down to the level of trying to transcribe prison calls and people with mumbling thick accents. It’s a nightmare.

I have no money, no car, no real friends in the city, no family… It’s lonely.

What’s going on at home, being evicted, not knowing where we’re going to live, is a nightmare.

The sleeplessness, the stress, the struggle, feeling sick all the time, being in pain, it’s ALL a nightmare.

Why am I even here?

What’s my purpose?

I feel like a burden. I feel like a loser.

No wonder I’m having the PTSD dreams again.

Going to keep trying for a job. I hate having to work for 4-6 hours, hurting my body, for a measly $15 – $20.

I am so much more than this.

Feeling shattered today.

S.

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ARGH.

Stressed out womanWe were served one week ago with an eviction notice. For one week I have been unable to sleep more than three or four hours at a time. Unable to eat more than one small meal a day. I’ve had migraines. I’ve vomited, and I’m in a flare up. I’m having some pretty bad PTSD nightmares. My speech is slurred and I can’t stay out of the loo.

Thanks so much for this.

The vacancy rate in Halifax is 1.5%. There was just a piece published in the Chronicle Herald yesterday about how young people aren’t able to come to Halifax anymore because the rents are not only ridiculously high, but you’re lucky if you can even find housing.

So you tell me in what world two decent tenants are facing homelessness by the word of one person?

How can one person have the power to throw our lives into such upheaval? We had been nothing but kind and considerate since we moved in. If this individual didn’t like us, she had three months while we sublet, to change her mind about signing a lease with us. Yet she chose to.  She had ample opportunities to tell us if she had a problem with us, but she didn’t.

Every time I asked, (and I asked multiple times because I am not an asshole, and certainly didn’t want to disrupt anyone else) whether or not we disturbed her, or bothered her, we were told, “No, I never hear you guys.”

Any time she was rude to us, which was frequently, we took it on the chin and just went upstairs. Throughout ten months of incessant barking, we said nothing. Her girlfriend practically lived here, contributed nothing, but again, we said nothing. Why? Because we honestly liked these two people, we thought we were friends. But now I see we were just being taken advantage of.

Even though we did ALL the cleaning inside and outside (except lawn, that was the roommate’s only job), we said nothing because we wanted to live in a clean home whether she pitched an effort or not. We are not dirtbags.

The backyard is piled up with items that don’t belong to us. A bio composter of some kind, prior tenant. A wooden flower bed, prior tenant. Coffee table, roommate, stool, prior tenant, wagon, roommate. Pallets, roommate.  You get the drift.

We have spent the better part of 10 months living in a room together. The couple of times we attempted to use the living room (after we cleaned downstairs for hours) we were kicked out and ended up retreating to our bedroom.

We have felt disrespected THE ENTIRE time we have lived here. It’s not a good feeling. Again, we never involved the landlord because this was not a long term solution for us, and you DON’T INVOLVE LANDLORDS IN ROOMMATE DISPUTES in Halifax.

I’m going to have to schedule an appointment with my doctor because I’m having difficulty coping with all the stress this has brought on. I’m in menopause and I suffer from PTSD and Fibromyalgia, so that means I go from angry to crying in a flash. A hot flash. yuk yuk.

One thing I do to cope is clean, but this place is sparkling and I have run out of things to clean now.  I have begun packing, in case we are tossed out on to the street after our hearing.

Who needs this shit? Honestly.

I feel like I’ve been bullied my entire life, but none more than being a grown, disabled woman.  From constantly having to prove my disabilities, to narcissistic abuse from family and a few friends. I have taken so much shit from so many people over the years, that I have finally reached full. The shit runneth over.

I just want to lie on a beach with a book and forget all this ever happened. Including moving to Halifax.

To address our need for immediate housing, we have started a Go Fund Me to assist with moving costs, utility hookups, damage deposit etc. If you are able to donate, it would be greatly appreciated, if not, a simple share or prayer helps. Thank you so much for your kindness. I really appreciate my online friends and the blogging community.

 

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

S.

 

Image Credit

http://www.clker.com/clipart-634242.html

Facing Homelessness

Well, this has been one hell of a week let me tell you. In the last two weeks, our amicable roommate situation turned sour. We were are getting along just fine. Until the mange chihuahua.

Now, anyone who knows me, knows I LOVE DOGS. I love cats, birds, fish, rabbits, guinea pigs, pygmy goats, you get the picture. I love animals. The issue was that we were already allergic to the existing chihuahua that lives here, Annie. Annie barks incessantly, all day, every day. it’s something we’ve learned to live with simply because she was here before us. I also have a dog. A miniature dachshund named Lucy. Lucy is wire/long hair. I have to cut her hair regularly. She is, for the most part, hypoallergenic.

The roommate sends us a message one day on our shared group chat explaining that she will be adopting this dog. Another barking chihuahua with mange mind you, not housebroken or vaccinated from the Dominican Republic (because apparently, Halifax dogs aren’t good enough). We said no. She kept picking at us, demanding we “chat about it”, which was basically her railroading us into accepting this dog. And if we didn’t accept this dog, we were told that her girlfriend would gladly take over our lease if that helps. HOW WOULD THAT HELP? We are in a lease until November. Housing in the city of Halifax is absolutely DIRE because of rent hikes and the increase of Air BnB’s swallowing up all the good rental opportunities.

She wouldn’t listen to us. She kept pushing. we kept saying no. So the roommate thought it would be a fantastic idea to contact the landlord, tell them we were fighting with her, threatening her (???). The landlords’ response: EVICTION for ALL of us.

We have a hearing scheduled for July 20th, although the landlords want us out by June 28th, which they cannot do because they themselves have applied for a hearing. I have verified this with the appropriate authorities.

In what world can two good tenants, (we pay our rent on time, we keep the home and property immaculate), get evicted because of a lie told by one person? This person has been caught lying so frequently, that I’m thinking she must have some kind of disorder. All the times we asked if we bothered her, disturbed her, we were told: “No, I never hear you guys.” But then tells the landlord we were disruptive. Again.. ????? The only thing disruptive in this house is Annie, the chihuahua mix.

So now we’re caught up in a legal battle as well as trying to find housing. Did I mention how FEW apartments in Halifax allow dogs?

My wife has been under immense pressure at work and literally feels like she’s being pushed out of a job, now we’re being pushed out of our home because our Adult Baby of a roommate pitched a fit for not getting her way.

I cannot express the amount of stress this has placed on us. We don’t have the money to move, can’t find an apartment, we can’t eat, can’t sleep. I have fibromyalgia, (ME/CFS) severe osteoarthritis, and PTSD. This is pushing me over the edge with stress. Unnecessary stress. We need prayers.

In the meantime, I have started up a Go Fund Me to help with moving costs and a new place to live. If you are able to donate, it would be greatly appreciated. I don’t know what else to do at the moment.

https://www.gofundme.com/ckrtcr-immediate-housing-needed

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Be Kind to One Another.

S.

The Price is… Too Much

Firstly, I apologize for my recent absence.  With the holidays and travelling and personal matters I cannot share at this time, and an officially broken wrist, I have been too distracted, tired or sore to go on social media.  I needed a break (pardon the pun).

Not much has been going on here but a few minor observances and a shit load of Netflix watching.  I’ve watched a few movies I enjoyed like I, Tonya, and the Disaster Artist.  I was pleased to see Franco take an award for that.  I blew through the Wormwood series in a day, I enjoyed the biographical movie All Eyez on Me about the iconic Tupac Shakur.  It’s been pretty quiet here.

Quiet.  That’s something I enjoy.  Peace and quiet.  I don’t like loud things, loud movies, loud shows, loud noises.  I’m an aficionado of documentary films and quiet quirky humor without the blatantly obnoxious laugh tracks.  I’m a big girl, I know when to laugh, thanks.  Even my musical tastes have changed.  When going for my MP3s to accompany house cleaning, I’m beginning to shy away from the loud raucous rock and metal that I used to listen to, opting for Radiohead, Wilco or, most recently, Diana Ross and the Supremes.  You can’t go wrong with Motown.

Cannabis brownieWhich brings me to the crux of my story.  Recently I acquired a medicinal brownie.  I’ve been pretty blunt and upfront about the fact that I have a permit/prescription to possess medical cannabis for chronic pain and PTSD.  So, I got this brownie..  Keep in mind I am very experienced, a veteran of cannabis if you will.  I have been using it for about a decade for pain, I have done my research, I know my strains and I know my doses.  I have never had a bad experience… Until now.

This brownie was about 3 inches long and maybe an inch wide.  I split it in half.  It’s a Saturday night so I offer the other half to my partner so she can relax.  Apparently this was not a 2 dose brownie.  I repeat, NOT a 2 dose brownie.  In actual fact, this was a four or 5 dose brownie.  So we unknowingly nibble at our brownies while enjoying a cup of coffee with a little Baileys in it.  Mistake number 2.  Do not mix said brownie with alcohol, even the wee bit of Baileys you dumped in your after dinner coffee.  I put on a recent episode of The Price is Right for shits and giggles.  We don’t have cable so occasionally I find game show episodes online for us to watch so we can feel like real people that have cable.  The Price is Right was mistake number 3.  It was at the second big wheel spin to see who the showcase showdown opponent was going to be when the brownie took hold.  

Holy fuck.

Too much
Too much The Blog BroadThere were flashing lights, bells ringing, thunderous applause, ” It’s a brand new car!!!” , people screaming and molesting Drew, saying hello to every fucking person they knew, people losing their shit screaming down aisles flailing their arms, people pushing past stunned models to grab at their haul of prizes, people screaming random numbers at shocked contestants, weird T shirts begging to Drew to love them, flashy costumes, honking horns, that yodelling Swiss guy, then it’s topped off with guilt about the unneutered pet population.

How do people watch this?

How the fuck does Drew Carey sleep at night?  No wonder he’s lost weight, poor bastard probably has PTSD.  I sure hope they pay him well and he has a good benefits package.

How did Bob Barker do it all those years?  I mean that guy was old as shit when he retired. 

That show is like an overdose of Aderall with a hit of meth all in one 21 minute episode.  It was too much.  TOO MUCH.

This brownie was too much.  TOO MUCH.

All we could do was go lay on our bare bed, (I had the brilliant idea of washing the bedding pre-brownie).  We had been over stimulated.  We grabbed the comforter and threw it over us like a protective fort.  Looking at each other under our fort all we could do, was repeat “Too much.  Too much.  Too much.”  

The lights were too much, music was too much, smells were too much, touch was too much, The Price is Right  was TOO MUCH.

I vomited a couple of times and crawled back into the fort with “C”.  We fell asleep.  I eventually woke up and finished the laundry but “C” was out for the night.  Lesson learned.  Well played meth brownie, well played.

It did get me thinking about how The Price is Right kind of mirrors American society.  

Play the game, win prizes!

The more shit, the better!

LOUD LOUD LOUD!!  with some screaming for good measure

It’s all about advertising, but throw in some literal bells and whistles and flashing lights and no one’s the wiser!

I want it all now now now

Who cares about the fine print, like duties and taxes that need to be paid, a lot of people don’t even take their prizes because it costs too much.  Nothing is truly free but it looks like it is and that’s all that matters


Yay!! America! 

yeesh… 

Too much. 


Live Humbly, Start Small, Live Cautiously,

Sam


Images

Hank Hill/ too high  http://media.ifunny.com/results/2014/02/06/yqeg15gwyf.jpg

Price is Right gif  https://uproxx.files.wordpress.com/2014/10/tpir.gif?w=650

Brownie/Selfie are my own.

I Can’t Throw it Away, These Things are Valuable to Some People…

mangrove tree  Trying to pull it together after a week of pure exhaustion.  I have Fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, arthritis everywhere and degenerative disc disease so I have bouts of pain and exhaustion where I fluctuate from suffering from insomnia to chronic fatigue.  I spent the evenings unable to sleep and having to nap in the afternoons.  My brain has been so foggy.  I’m somewhere in that space between not really awake but not exactly asleep but walking around. Miraculously.   Yesterday I went out with 2 different shoes on and I didn’t even notice.  Everything I eat makes me feel like I’m going to be sick.  It’s like having the flu.  I woke up this morning completely soaked.  Had to change and crawl back into bed.  I barely remember because I was still partially asleep.  I couldn’t wake up and get up so I slept.  I slept until 11am.  What woke me was another nightmare.

 

I usually dream the same things over and over again.  The world outside is chaos.  Something has happened.  Something from the skies.  We’re always watching the skies.  People are travelling in small groups of people trying to stay safe and unnoticed.  There’s no food, and there is destruction and devastated buildings everywhere.  We have to to stay quiet and unnoticed because if they hear us, they will take us.  I don’t know who they are.  I never see because I usually wake myself  up screaming.  My dreams are terrifying and violent.   I’ve had dreams similar to this for most of my life.  I have had PTSD for most of my life.  Another way I wake up is I’m yelling at my parents.  Usually my father.  We fell out a couple of years ago over money.  He had co signed a line of credit for me in 2007 to go back to school.  I went back to get certified in Fitness Instruction, Personal Training and Nutrition and Wellness.  That was going to be my career and I was really good at it.  Then I got sick.  I had to have emergency surgery one night from endometriosis complications.  I was off work for a while but I was unable to ever fully return to my normal capacity.  Over time my Fibro came back full swing with new symptoms added.  Arthritis became crippling some days.  I missed time from work and kept getting fired from job after job.  The stress of not being able to eat or pay rent or take care of everything while being sick and getting sicker was awful.  Again.. No support or caring from my father or stepmother.  I was put off work years ago because of illness.  My stepmother thinks I’m lazy and so does my father.  Kept telling my to get my shit together .  I’m sick not lazy.  They don’t understand that I am actually ill.  So when I was unable to keep up the payments on this line of credit, my father cut me out.  He told me he did not want to see my face.   That was almost 2 years ago now.  My mother and I haven’t spoke in five years or so.  She has a lot of health problems as well, in fact we share many of those- thanks DNA, but I was told by my stepfather years ago that I wasn’t to call there anymore.  If I had something to say, to put it in an email.  I know my mother has moments that she could speak to me for five minutes.  She chooses not to.  She’s chosen not to since I was 26.  I had a rocky relationship with my mother until about 12 where we became friends.  I say friends because she was never consistently in my life like a mother should be.  My father just ignored me but she would be in and out like the seasons.  In while my stepfather was away at sea and she was lonely, out once he retired.  

 

All I’ve ever wanted is to feel loved by my parents and to feel close, but instead I felt like an old antique piece of furniture being passed back and forth.  “Well I don’t want it right now, so I’ll just store it in the attic in case I need it for something, I mean, I can’t throw it out, these things are valuable to some people.”  I guess not everyone gets the supportive advice, the encouragement, the hugs, the “I love yous” , the birthday cakes, the gifts, the help, the empathy, the compassion.  I’ve been pretty much on my own since 13 with the occasional help from them of say groceries for my birthday.  I’ve lived with my father but I was ignored.  Like not even told there was dinner ready ignored.  No one noticed my good grades, no one noticed how hard I was working at university, or the fact that I never asked them for anything.  Ever. (Except for that line of credit in 2007) I overdosed at 18 on Valium and slept in my bedroom for two days and no one noticed.  When I got married in 2011, my mother and stepfather didn’t attend my wedding, nor did I receive a card or a present.  I noticed my youngest step brother got married this past month, my invitation seemingly lost in the mail.  My stepfather made it to his wedding I learned.  My stepfather.  He taught me some things and helped me different times but he was more of the same.  There, then not there, then don’t call me.  

 

All this stuff seems to come up when I go through a flare.  I guess it’s because it’s when I feel most vulnerable.  I so wish I could hear an encouraging “I love you” or a hug or “I’m sorry that you’re having these problems, can we help?”  I hear my partner talking to her mom and sister on the phone and there’s always this little piece of me that breaks a little inside.

 

My parents are getting older, approaching their seventies and I know that things will never be resolved with us.  The chaos I grew up in, the things that happened to me and not having their help, their protection, their guidance or love.  Even my health needs went unmet which in turn has complicated my health now.  In today’s world, I would have been removed from that home.  I saw things and knew things children should never know or be exposed to.  Nothing…  There will never be anything different with them.   

 

Seeing how difficult it is to attain mental health help in addition to the family doctor I am waiting for, 2 years now.  I felt like the only means available to me is to write about it.  I can’t afford the treatments that many people have access to and I have no health coverage.  The only thing I have is my writing.  I have hesitated to really put things out there for a long time.  I already got yelled at by my brother because of “how I write about our parents” he is my step mother’s son from her previous marriage.  Her only child.  He got taken care of well.  Very well.  I on the other hand was not her problem.  He doesn’t realize that despite us living under the same roof for 6 years we have lived very different lives.  

 

My family doesn’t care about me.  I have one cousin that I wish lived closer but I even tend to keep her at arm’s length because I don’t trust she’ll stay in my life either.  My now ex wife cheated on me and we divorced in 2014 so yeah, now I have some serious abandonment issues and PTSD and chronic pain and poverty and bad credit and all the other shit that comes with being chronically ill.

 

I prefer for people to think of me as witty and happy and clever so I tend to only write when I’m feeling upbeat but that isn’t realistic.  Life isn’t always like that.  Sometimes, life is just shit.  

 

I hope I feel better tomorrow.

 

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

 

Image

“Mangrove Trees” by 9comeback  www.freedigitalphotos.net