disappointed

Well, I'm a little depressed.

I got denied for disability again.

It doesn't make sense.

I'm approved for disability RRSPs and tax credit, but I'm not disabled?

I can only work for 4 hours.

Apparently, they feel I could live off that kind of income.

Nobody will even hire me for 4 hours.

That's why I volunteer.

So, I am supposed to make a living off of volunteering 4 hours a week.

There are some people out there who have been approved for disability and are scamming the system.

How did THEY get approved?

I have legitimate issues and they won't help me out.

Not sure what it's about, but I'm quite upset about it.

I need to write a letter to them stating why I think they're wrong.

6:30 a.m. this morning I woke up thinking about that letter.

Stressed.

Upset.

Obsessing.

Maybe I should call the woman who hit me and ask her to support me.

Oh yeah, right!  Case is done, she got a fine and her insurance premiums went up.  She's 'paid enough'.

I just don't have the energy to deal with all this.

I wish I had a magic fairy who could swoop on in and save the day.

I wish there weren't other pressing issues going on this week so that I could deal with it with more ease.

I'm so tired.

I went out for a dinner with a member of The Pariah Club last night and found I didn't feel like talking.

I just wanted her to do it all.

I piped in a bit, but I'm so exhausted, my migraine hurt with every word I spoke.

Yes.

I still have a fucking migraine.

It's more like a constant pressure at the sides of my head.

I can actually touch them and they feel bruised.

So, yeah.

I'm tired.

Exhausted.

Overwhelmed.

And disappointed.

There's so much more to do and all I want to do is sleep.

It's my last day at the synagogue today.  I have to be there to say goodbye.

I will be there, even if it seems like I just can't do it.

My magic little cup of black liquid will give me artificial energy.

I will put on make-up so that I look like I'm actually part of the living in this society.

I will wear one of 2 outfits I've kept for the next week.

Week.

One week.

Weary.

Discouraged.

i cannot give up until i have tried every conceivable way

what's your normal?!?!

Papi's manic.

His eyes are crossing while he's trying to stay awake, but he's insisting on doing more.

"Maybe you want to help me?" he asks with the snark level on high.

No, I want to finally write today, because I haven't been able to write for a few days.  However, I helped him anyway, because I really just want him to go to sleep.

It's been so busy.

Really busy.

I saved as much food as I could because I needed to eat, but damn!

Every time I turn around, I'm going for another hang out, which usually includes food and I'm not starving.  Let me just say that.

I'm not liking what I see in the mirror, so it may be time to cover up those reflective demons.

It seems we have lunch and dinner booked for the next 9 days.  Today is my last Thursday Lunch with my mother.

My Eternal Friend warned me, "Just wait until you get closer to the date.  It gets even worse."

I have friends that stopped having anything to do with me when I said I'd like to say goodbye.  They may try to catch up now, but I'm too far gone.

I realize now that my migraine is 100% due to the anxiety and stress.

The other day, I thought it vanished and I was excited that it would be a day to live without pain killers.

Then I spoke about everything we need to do, my mind started racing, my heart started squeezing and BOOM!

It was back, creeping up the left side my cheek bones until it landed throbbing at my temple.

My doctor was hoping to hear a miracle when I saw her the other day, but unfortunately, she wrote me a script for more morphine.

She also doesn't understand the stress.  "But it's a good thing you're doing!"

No, she doesn't get it.

I tried to explain, "Well, all my comfort is gone.  All my things that keep me happy are gone and I'm living in chaos.  It's really hard."

Not too many people understand.

I had awesome words from one reader who said how she gets stressed out when she's running 10 minutes behind if her dog takes too long to poop and I realized, any stress I've ever felt is only relative.

I've felt that stress before.

Now that stress seems like nothing, but to her it's everything, because she's living in it.

It is probably how people who don't understand view this.

It's really nothing to them, because they can't relate.

Man.

Try having every corner of your life either in boxes, gone or changed.

We humans hate change.

As I write, I'm looking at Papi, and wishing he would start the Graveyard Coma because he just looks so damn tired.

I made the mistake of saying, "Hey, Papi, maybe you should just go to sleep?" because his face was getting quite pale.

"Honey, I'm trying to do this, don't stress me out!!!"

Niether of us has really had 'normal' for weeks.

There is no more 'normal'.

Not right now, and I suspect, there will be no 'normal' for a long time.

We've abandoned our lives for a new one.

Our lives changed when we made the decision to strive for a better life.

There will come a point when all of this does become old hat.

Can you imagine?

When life with goats, a veggie garden, chickens, gads of dogs and island living (and perhaps a donkey?!?!?) becomes 'normal'?

Hard for me to fathom.

But it will.

my angels are helping me with every step i take.  they are always here

bedlam brain

"Honey?  Can you get me a Pepsi?  I want my breakfast in bed today."

No, I'm not kidding you.

You think I exaggerate?

I don't.

He's fine with living off junk food, but he doesn't understand I can't do that for 2 weeks!

He made me give away all my kitchen stuff last night, in another round of The Great DR Purge.

He's so mean.

He says I don't need them.

Ha!

Because of my food allergies, I can't just go grab a burger or pizza, so I'm forced to actually COOK my food.

At home.

So, getting rid of all my kitchen stuff means I can't cook.

I'd like to say it means I'll be losing weight, because I may be starving to death, but it won't.

It will mean I will be eating staples for the next few weeks.

Staples always includes way too many carbs for this body.

There may be some candida issues, not to mention a few Hurricane Andréa sightings and definitely some bloating.

It's bad enough that The Countdown is down to 12 days and we're freaking out, but a bad diet definitely won't help issues on my part.

I say WE are freaking out.

Yes, we.

On two different occasions yesterday, as per usual, we were asked, "So!  Are you getting excited?!?!"

Every time someone asks that, Papi and I just look at each other for the pause of 'they really don't understand' silence.

Like clockwork, I will spurt out, "Overwhelmed," and Papi will reply, "I wouldn't use the word, 'excited'."

My Eternal Friend knows what it's like.  She packed up and moved to Guatamala.

Everyone else just treats it like we're going for a holiday.

Well, I guess to some we are going on a holiday that lasts more than 2 weeks.

We're not allowed to leave for 2 months if we want residency, so even if I wanted to come home, I can't.

I guess if I only wanted 2 weeks of pain relief, I could do that.

But going back and forth so much during the winter probably won't do me any good.

It will just make my bitch of a back think it's bipolar and drain the bank account pretty damn fast.

On a side note, I just thought I'd let you know I drank an entire cup of coffee without spilling it on my t-shirt.

Not that that has anything to do with this blog.

But then again, this blog kinda started out a little scattered anyway.

That's pretty much how I feel these days.

Scattered.

My brain feels strewn across the city.  I suppose that's the reason for the migraine.

It's still threatening to come back at force.  It seems I can go half a day without pain killers for it, but at some point, it just gets to be too much.

I guess I may be putting off the withdrawal for a few more days.

Anyway, there I go again.

I can't keep any conversation on one thing for more than a minute.

Perhaps it's because we're living amongst chaos.

Bedlam brain.

i follow my dreams, no matter what

That's pretty much it.

ah forums. so full of useless crap.

It was either:

a) the gads of wasabi I stuffed down my throat at my Thursday Lunch with my mother that burned it out of my head

or,

b) the sweetest going away gift that I received from my Eternal Friend that melted my heart so greatly that it chased the pain away

or,

c) the love note I wrote to my migraine, leaving it no option but to abort the mission when it felt the positivity that oozed from my blood.

or,

d) all of the above, with the timing of the migraine choosing to have run its course.

Whatever it was, my head definitely feels a bit lighter today.

I can still feel it, but it's definitely not morphine worthy at this point.  I still took a tiny bit to make sure I didn't launch into puking from withdrawal.  I also didn't want that nasty rebound headache you get from taking the poison out of your system.

I don't need to write a love note to my body for going through withdrawal.  I've already met my love note quota.

Anyway, I woke up feeling a bit better, only to receive panicked texts from Papi.

You know how EVERYTHING you read on the internet is true?

Papi got a dose of it today and it scared the shit out of him, and in turn, he tried to bring my migraine back with stress and fear.

"Talked on the forums, looks like we need a guard.  They poison the dogs and then rob.  A big fence is going up!!!"

I rolled my eyes at Papi, even though he couldn't see me, because he's sleeping off the Graveyard Coma.

I decided to read on with what he wrote a few seconds later, "I think we made a mistake not getting in gated community."

Sorry Papi, but we are going to be enjoying Casa Paraíso.  No mistakes what-so-ever.

The next text showed Papi's disdain through the four little letters, "Fuck!!!"

Now I giggled at Papi, wishing he wasn't asleep so I could remind him we wouldn't have beachfront property in a gated community, nor would we be allowed the gads of dogs we want to adopt, because some control freak with a pickle up her ass wants to make sure she gains the respect now that she didn't have in high school.

Three and a half hours of obsessing later, he wrote, "Pay Albert to watch the house??"

Seems logical.  We want to employ our DR family somehow, but the way I see it, Albert will be there full time trying to teach this gringo how to garden, anyhow.

He had three more hours of consuming worry before he wrote the last text, "We should return your laptop.  It will be stolen.  I think our 2 computers is too much as it is!  I'm selling my gold necklace here.  I will make you read the DR1 thread about safety in the DR.  I will not get a safe because that will attract people.  I wish the gun shop was open on Sundays!"

Well, that pissed me off.

Papi, sell your own damn computer.

I need to make our documentary of our travels and you're always hogging your computer with your Facebook and Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land infatuation.

Seriously.

The people who are writing these things are just trying to put the fear into you that someone else put into them.

Misery loves company and bored people are everywhere.

These people need a migraine.  That would shut them up for a while.

Papi has the worst anxiety I've ever known in a person.  He's not a candidate to be going on these forums full of people trying to scare one another.

There's always 'that guy' who likes to instil panic in others.

He's probably sitting in his mother's basement, snickering about all the people he's terrified, because he's jealous of the fact that he hasn't taken any risks in life, other than eating the moldy sandwich that he stuffed under his bed for safe keeping, just in case his mother ever kicked off.  Lord knows he's never had a reason to make is own sandwich, never mind do his own laundry.

Besides, like I've maintained from the start, if we treat the 'community' there like our own family, why would they treat us any less than their own?

No, we're not going to hide away, we are going to engage in living WITH our neighbours.

Great.  The pain is back.  At least I had a good run of bitching for a few minutes there.

Bring on the morphine.

i surround myself with people who treat me well

i love you to the pit of my bowels

I've begun a positive relationship with my migraine.

At day 14, I may as well make peace with it, so I'm pretending that I like it.

Hey!  It's cool to walk around with my eyes half slit and bloodshot!  I look like I'm an active alcoholic again!

Now, I get to have the look whilst being sober.

I'll fool everyone as the old ladies 'tsk tsk' me for being a louse in broad daylight.

They'll especially enjoy the staggering that accompanies my swollen brain.

It's a bit akin to when I first had my brain injury.

People will just think I'm drunk and clear the sidewalk as I wobble on by.

Ooh, I'll get lots of dirty looks while I resemble someone passing out from last night's bender.

The morphine will help on that end.

Involuntary naps.

Maybe I'll just look like I'm on heroin as I'm nodding off on the bus, or in today's case, the SeaBus.

Morphine, heroin, same diff.  Both are meager attempts at blocking the suffering.

Both will be equally as difficult when it comes to withdrawal.  Oh, how I look forward to that.

For today, I'm going to pretend my anguished head is really just normal and carry on with business as usual.

It's my Thursday Lunch day with my mother, and later, on I've made plans to see my Eternal Friend.

I've canceled on every plan over the past 2 weeks, except for family on Xmas and our special dinner with my baby sister, husband and kids.

My family are used to seeing me in this state, considering they were there for me during the brain injury.

However, today, I've decided to push through the feeling of my brain trying to seep through my skull.  It's not too much different than the roots of a tree breaking through a sidewalk.

I'll just put my sunglasses on and turn my headphones up as high as my poor little spasm brain can take.

Tune in and tune out.

This change in attitude came from my massage session last night.

He made it feel like it's ok to be in this much agony.  "Sometimes, it's better to acknowledge the pain, rather than will it away."

So, today, I'm going to acknowledge it.

I'm going to cake on the makeup to hide my pale face, and slather on the eyeliner to give my eyes the illusion that they're actually open.

I'll wear soft soled shoes so that as I walk, the 'thud-thud-thud' of my steps won't echo in my head.

I know there's no point in praying to get better.  I might as well pray to win the lottery.

Praying is really quite useless, unless it's for a change in our thinking, then it becomes a change in our brain mechanism that switches to another route.

We have the ability to think stronger and more positive, if we wish to.

So, today, I'm going to think positive as I embrace my migraine.

Dear migraine,

I think you're absolutely wonderful and I cherish your presence.  I hope you stick around until my dying days so that I never have to feel like I did 2 weeks ago.  

Being pain free is really over-rated and I'm glad you've come to show me this, and show me that light and sound are the enemy.  I was living a lie before you came along.

I'm grateful for your existence in my head, and that you make me feel like my brain is 10x it's normal size.  I get to pretend that it's because I'm so smart that there's no more room left in my skull, so my noodle is pushing it's way through the bone.

Thank you for being a part of my life.

Please don't ever leave me.

Signed,

Andréa, your love slave

There.

How's that?

there is a great reason that this is unfolding before me now

by a thread.

Migraine: Day 13.

Just got back from the doc.

Looks like it's not just any Pain Med Party, but morphine merry-go-round for me for the next few weeks.

17 days until we leave to Casa Paraíso, and I get to feel better.

If I didn't have a light at the end of the tunnel, I'd say shoot me now.

This is what our home looks like right now.

 

Ok.

It looked like that on New Year's Eve.

Now that we're on January 2nd, everything you see strewn around up there is now in it's respective suitcases.

They say migraines are mostly brought on due to stress.

You think?

Does it look stressful to you?

Mania.

I have no words to express how this all feels, so my poor throbbing brain is doing it for me.

I don't even have the energy to entertain my eating disordered thinking.

Instead, I'm just having dreams that I'm obese and can't fit into my clothes, never mind get off the couch.

The 'not getting off the couch' part isn't too far from the truth.

Actually, it is the truth.

I have decided that I'm not making plans anymore.

No point.

I just cancel them now anyway.

Fuck it.

Tears rolled down my face last night when I realized I'd be spending the majority of my time left here, on the La-Z-Boy.

This is not living.

17 days until the real fun begins, and I start to wean off the morphine.

If it sounds like I have nothing to talk about, it's because I have nothing to talk about.

This game is so boring.

Don't take me to pasture just yet.

Wait until I'm in paradise, please.

i am too big a gift in this world to feel self-pity and sadness

We are not amused.

New years resolutions are way too much pressure.

I no longer see the point.

It seems that it's just another opportunity to get mean to myself.

If I want to change something, I do it today.

Not Monday.

Not the first of a month.

Not New Years day.

Today.

What I've found is, that there's less of a burden placed on it as well.

Not to mention, then I can get to berating myself for not doing it much faster.

Yup.  I'm my own worst enemy sometimes.

What I've also found, is there are more opportunities to try again.

Less build up.

Less let down.

This year, my only resolution was to make it through the holiday season without a Hurricane Andréa sighting.

I did pretty good.

The only sugar and wheat I had was Xmas day, and the crankies stuck around for a good few days, but I'm feeling much better now.

I learned last night that my niece is the same as me.

She's a lunatic with sugar.

Everything gets blown out of proportion and she winds up in tears.

That's kinda the reason I don't drink alcohol either.

How many tears in my beers have I seen in my life?!?!

Not to mention, how many times did I look like a leprechaun fighting Irish?!

Instant asshole, just add alcohol.

I still see people cross the street when they see me, thinking I haven't changed.

I feel for all of you out there that feel the need to get your drunk hat on, just because it's New Years.

How many of you will be regretting your actions tomorrow?!?!

Not I.

No, I'll be sitting here nursing my 10 day long migraine.

10 days man!

I'm about ready to pop.

Stick a fork in me, I'm bloody well cooked.

However, being New Year's Eve, I won't be heading to the ER for another Pain Med Party.

No, Papi and I will be sitting here watching the ball drop in New York via TV.

I'll be fighting to keep my eyes open until midnight.

We'll probably have to listen to all our neighbours get as rowdy as possible.

Sound exciting?

Oh, but yes!

Papi and I are nothing but entertainment!

We lead such interesting lives, eh?

That and I'll be filming more of The Countdown.

Did I tell you I'm making a YouTube documentary of our travels?

I will let you know when the first episode is up.

That's partially why I've been writing less.

Learning more about making my doc!

I will film, edit, star and write the music for it.

Papi says he doesn't want to be in front of the camera, but it's mostly been him anyway.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go close my eyes again.

10 day migraine.

10 fucking days.

i have confidence in my body's ability to heal

don't mess with the femme.

And in other news, I've decided to wean off the pain meds early.  I'm pretty sure they are the culprit of this never ending migraine.

Yeah, it's a toss up.  A debilitating migraine from the pills, or back pain without them.  Which would you choose?

My choice is to take the pain relief out of my body to stop the migraine, and I'm really hurting.  I've dealt with back pain for 4 years, so I'm used to it.  I'm not used to the migraine, so fuck it.

Yesterday, my pain was so bad that I gave Papi a 'wee bit' of a hard time.

I dragged him out of bed to get some of my shopping done.  Of course, I don't have a license, so when I need to do my major run around, I need my chauffeur.

However, my dearest love is healing from a sinus infection from overworking himself.

... i've already given him the 'i told'ja so' treatment, so don't worry ...

I dragged him out anyway.  He didn't look as pale as he did the last few days, so the fresh air would do him good.

There we were at the mall, and he decided that as long as he was already here, he'd get some well needed shoes.

I was done with getting what I needed.  I was also cooked from walking.  My bitch of a back was killing me, and my was head pounding, so I took a seat.

Did I mention we were outside?

I was holding his old shoes in the new shoe box for him.  They made a good chin rest for my throbbing head.

Then the time came where I really had enough of my bitch of a back screaming at me for sitting and wanted Papi here NOW!

Only I waited, and waited.  Then I waited some more until I was fed up and in so much pain, my devil horns were sticking out of my head.

I tried to go walk to find him, so I could get the keys to the car.  No point having keys to a car you can't drive, right?!?!?!

Well, I got a few yards and realized even the weight of the box of old shoes was too much for my back to carry.

I dropped them.  Right then and there beside a garbage can, and they gave a loud 'THUD'.

Two rather tall, black men with an American drawl, were a wee bit concerned, "Hey girl!  What's going on?  What happened?"

In full, short, white girl attitude I flipped my hand and told them, "I'm not carrying his fucking shoes no more!"

They didn't know they were old, stinky, beaten ones.

They just thought I was a little firecracker who had enough of whatever my man did, and my man was going to pay for whatever it was he did wrong.

Once for dissing his little lady, and twice for having to buy the shoes a second time because someone would have stolen them by the time we got back to them.

The laughter I heard behind me was so awesome that I wanted so bad to turn around.

My back would prevent me of this.  I already knew that, so I didn't bother looking to join in with my honky girl giggles.

Not to mention, I didn't have an iota of giggle in me.

I just carried on and gave a wave of my hand and off I went to find Papi.  The Limping Lesbian, complete with sour face.

Every human that had ever felt back pain was giving me the look of, "Oh you poor, poor soul."

I looked in a couple of stores, then decided I was about to cry from the pain and couldn't walk any further, lest I would just have to walk back that same amount to get back to the car.

As I turned back to walk to the car, I heard my sweet love call my name.

Oh, poor Papi.

When I turned around, I must have looked like Medusa, because he almost froze in his tracks.  "Are you mad at me?"  Oh, I was hopping and let him have it.

Leave your femme waiting in the cold with a limp and no car keys?  Oh, you'll get it all right.

My sweet love really didn't know how much pain I was in, but when I am to that point, not even a sighting of Mother Teresa would bring back an ounce of positivity to my spiraling negative state.

Once I was in recline mode in our car, I apologized to mi esposo for dumping his box of old shoes, which also had his new belt, only my fucked up memory from brain injury declined me of this information.

That's when I said to myself, "3 weeks.  In 3 weeks I won't be in this pain."

That's when the anxiety of just how little time we have left here set in, and here I sit, a wee bit scared.

Frozen, to be exact.

the anger does not reflect who i am

what's xmas without an ER visit?

So, while I was lying in emergency last night, I came up with a poem for y'all:

'Twas the night before Xmas
and all through the house
all the creatures were stirring,
including the mouse (aka: Sir Bark-a-Lot).

Papi dropped me off
to the ER with care
and all I could think was,
"How bad is my hair?!?"

The nurse gave me drugs
to help ease the pain,
and Papi and I were amazed
that we were here again.

The drugs didn't help,
but at least I felt better,
but damn!  I was cold
as I eyed up my sweater.

I'll go for their cat scan
to check out my head,
but it's just so damn painful
I wish I were dead.

Had me a bit of a migraine from hell.

I guess my pain killers have run their course and my pain had to go somewhere, so up it went to my head.

They pumped me up with morphine, gave me a cat scan to make sure there was no tumour, and sent me on my way.

Merry Xmas, you get a Pain Med Party.

Today, I'm not staggering all over the place and my eyes are open half way, so I'm doing a hell of a lot better than I was 24 hours ago.

So, for your Xmas pleasure, I made a video for Papi.

You are entitled to see it.

I threw in a few of my tunes as well, so you may want to have your speakers on.

Or not.  Hehehe.  Just don't tell me that.

No need in breaking my heart, eh?

I hope this day finds you all well.

i fill this day with hope and fill it with joy

"Permission to scream, Sir!"

We really need our friends.  More importantly, we need to have good friends.

I had the pleasure of speaking to a blogger friend yesterday, albeit on the Facebook chat.  It didn't crap out on us and that was a great thing.

What happened while I was chatting with her, was that I realized just how much pressure I'm under.  I'm a survivor, so I tend to downplay events in my life.

However, this is mostly out of fear that people will think I'm whining.

echos of my mother; 'you have nothing to cry about'

But goddamit.  There's a hell of a lot going on.

First of all, while living in this rubble, I am feeling like I'm completely out of control.  It really hit me this morning.

I lied in bed hoping that I would just fall asleep again, because if I got up, I'd be welcomed by a minimum of 3 strange men in my house.  Granted, I'm getting to know them and they really are very nice, but none-the-less, there are people in my house that I have to wade through just to get to my coffee.

The thought of starting my day amongst these people had me lying as still as a corpse.  I think I was just hoping it would all go away.

It didn't.  The second I sat up in bed I had a cat yell at me.

The animals.  They want to be fed the moment I'm up.  Trying to find them a place to eat is a challenge too.  Today, I just left the 2 most scared up with Papi.  I just couldn't handle wrangling them up while my head was splitting.

they're not going to starve.  they can eat later.

I've had a migraine since the crying session 2 nights ago from the other stressor.  But 'you', my imaginary friend know all about the male transformation affliction.  Do I really need to say anything at this point?

top surgery, whiskers and pronouns, oh my!

I haven't had a balanced meal in over a week, due to the fact that we have no stove.  This messes with my psyche.  I need proper nutrition or this brain of mine will cease to function.

pretty much ... yup ... TILT!!!

I have embarked on my music once again, now that my brain injury has given me the space to do so, but this creates a whole other can of worms.

A LOT OF WORK!!!!!!

Now, normally, I embrace work.  I'm a bit of a border collie.  You keep throwing the ball, I'll keep chasing it.  But the feeling of trying to get anything accomplished in a house where there is a full hunt for shoes is really hard.

i don't know what these men do with my stuff ... seriously!!!

Being in this disaster is a bit like our own version of Survivor.  I'm not sure how many people could live with saws, hammering, dust, paint fumes, no stove, no tub ...

yes ... you heard me right ... i am stinkin' it up big time ... offending myself!!!

... and the same pair of jeans for 4 months straight.

No, I don't think many people could handle this.

Then there's the fact that we just lost a pet, my love has had a small relapse ...

even though i don't believe there's any way to measure a relapse.  a relapse is horrifying no matter the size ...

... and now I have to go back to my doctor to talk about my blood work.  It's never good when they want you to come in.  At least my ultrasound didn't show anything life threatening.

I'm almost back to my job.  It will feel like a holiday while I'm away from this mess.

Mess.

Yes I am.

I am a walking sty.  I think anyone would be.

I'm beginning to understand why I am on the verge of explosion every second breath.