What Being Unemployed is Teaching Me…

As being someone who is recently unemployed, let me share with you a few lessons I’m learning along the way:

• There will be a LOT of unsolicited advice from those who are currently employed.
• You WILL get a lot of looks and comments from people who think they know or even, understand your situation.
• There are a TON of hoops you have to jump through, just to get noticed, or even apply for some sort of assistance, once you’ve eaten through all of your savings.
• Depression is a total bitch, and gets worse by the minute if you even stop long enough to think about the “what-ifs”, if you don’t gain meaningful employment, and soon.
• On a positive note, your house could potentially be….immaculate. (If you’re anything like me, dear readers, being stuck in the house all day, even after you’ve beaten on every door, and sent out 30 resumes and made just as many follow up phone calls, you tend to get a little stir crazy, and start organizing everything from kitchen cupboards, to living room furniture. Sweeping and mopping, a chore that was once a week or even every two weeks *gasp!* now becomes a daily occurrence.
• You start to experience your neighbors daily little nuances, like the all day trash burning. (Seriously, my lungs can’t handle it! and WHY would they put the windows so they open facing the fire pit, instead of against it? All that does is trap the smoke inside my house. So you get the idea that the only way to get around it, is to close up every window, and sweat (because it IS summer), only to realize that all that does is make the house stink even more, because the stench inevitably still finds a way in).
• You become hyper-aware of everything that is coming due…and try your damndest to figure out how to stave off the collectors, or pleading with the companies to keep your lights on.
• You begin to daydream about what you COULD be, if you had the money and the time to go to school. (A writer or journalist. A photographer. A party planner. An architect. Someone who works for places that makes a HUGE difference in the world around them).
• You start to think that maybe, juuuust maybe, you’re asking too much of a salary (even though you know damn good and well that the salary you had, is just enough to get by)
• You start thinking of creative ways to earn money until you find that career (Uber driver, donating plasma, newspaper boy, even selling off your possessions).
• You find creative ways to save money; for instance: taking only 2 or 3 reusable grocery sacks to the market, and only buying the necessary things that will fill it. (milk. bread. that all-important migraine medicine…)
• Your self-esteem takes a downward spiral because with each passing day you don’t receive a call-back or an interview, you think you’re just not worthy, smart enough, or maybe too old to be considered a great addition to a new team.
• You do your best to smile in front of others and avoid questions like, “how’s work going?” (Because you know that if you mention you’re without a job, they are looking at you with such pity, that it makes you feel so embarrassed and ashamed).
• When people ask, “hey how are you?” You’re first response is, “well, that’s a loaded question”.
• Praying (at least for me anyway), becomes a much more regular occurrence, even more than before. I find myself constantly thanking God for my life, and everything in it. The good, the bad, and everything in between. I ask for guidance. I ask for support. I ask for the constant migraine to go away long enough to be able to think with a clear head.

Yes, being unemployed sucks. No matter how you look at it. I look at others, especially now, with such envy. Look at how much they’ve accomplished. Look at those lavish vacations they are taking. You got a new car? That’s great! You’re buying a house? Man, are YOU lucky!

It all goes right back to, how the hell did I manage to live a life that is just mediocre? Oh, that’s right. I decided to have kids. I got accepted to go to college on three separate occasions. I gave that up to be a “mostly” present parent. With that, comes giving up a better future, career wise. It means, I only have my experience to rely on and the recommendation of others.  It means, I have to work harder NOW to succeed, if I’m ever going to. Sure I could go now, but that means I have to work a menial job and find more hours in the day that I just physically don’t have to do so. Sure it’s a temporary thing, like 4 years at most, but the payoff is better, right? Call me lazy, call me stubborn. I call it severe exhaustion.  The mind is willing, the body is not.

But, At least I have my kids to show for my life, right? That’s something positive? They really ARE great kids, even WITH their flaws. They are beautiful and wonderful, even if that doesn’t pay the bills, at least I know I raised ’em right, on matter how much grief I got from others on my methods.

The question I get a lot is, “If you had the opportunity to live your life differently, would you? What would you change?” While I can’t change the family I was raised up in, I probably would have taken up the option to move in with my father, instead of staying with my mother. She tried, hard, God love her, she tried. But she was very distracted. I didn’t feel protected. I didn’t always feel loved. But, I had great friends. I grew up in a great church. High School sucked, and I never fit in. I was looked down upon as a statistic because no one knew my story. I probably would have never had the opportunity to visit my grandmother in VA every summer until I was 16.

I probably wouldn’t have gotten molested as a child, or raped at 16, or be a teen mom to a mother of 2, by the time I was 19.  I wouldn’t have been blamed for the break up of my mother’s 2nd marriage. I never would have met my first (abusive) husband, or lost a baby. I never would have travelled up and down the east coast. But…I would have had a stable family growing up. I may have been closer to my siblings, than I am now. I would have gone to college. I would have driven at a younger age. I wouldn’t have turned tricks and I certainly wouldn’t have been homeless, or forced to live in the middle of nowhere (literally, the closest town was 15-20 miles, and it was a one-stoplight town with no grocer or eatery, just a post office and a few buildings).  I would certainly be a lot better off than I am right now.

I realize that, while things would be way different if I had done things differently, my life would not have affected those around me either.  I wouldn’t have been there for my brother when he needed me to be. I wouldn’t have been there for Cat, as she experienced some of her trauma. I wouldn’t have had the kids I have now. I wouldn’t have made great friends.

My life feels like a total train wreck so often, I need to remind myself, that my life really has touched others, in ways I’ll never know.  I often forget that there IS a purpose for me, I just haven’t figured out what that purpose is….yet.  I can’t see the whole picture, but I feel like there just has to be something good coming…eventually.

So, I ask, as I always seem to do, please keep me in your prayers and send good thoughts and positive vibes my way.  I’m spending wayyy too much time in my head, and really need to be able to focus on getting my life straight.

Until next time, readers….

~Mama

 

I’m just sad, not crazy.

Over the last couple of days, I caused my amygdala to short-circuit, and I fell off the wagon. No, I don’t drink, or do drugs, hell I don’t even like taking prescription drugs if I don’t have to.  I fell off the “healthy me” wagon and reverted back to old habits of cutting. But please know, I didn’t do this to kill myself, I did it to make myself feel better.

I argued with myself, incessantly, over the whole thing. A full on war, raging right inside my head, between the forces of good and evil. The good, pushing me to drop the object, the evil telling me that if I did it, just one more time, I’ll feel a whole lot better. To silence the battle, I picked up an object, pressed it against my flesh, and pulled. Did it hurt? You bet your ass. Do I feel better? Yes, but not entirely. I now have an ugly ass wound on my arm, as a reminder of my weak mind. I know that if people see it, they will think i’m crazy. They may even want to have me evaluated, or even worse, admitted. 

Let me say this once more: I AM NOT CRAZY. I AM JUST SAD.

I never realized just how sad I was until now. I mean, I thought I was making real progress, but now I feel like I may have been just suppressing everything I have been feeling. But another part of me thinks that I wasn’t suppressing anything, but rather I failed to learn the skills to cope with loss and grief.

I haven’t had many healthy relationships when it comes to partners. When I met this person, I thought for sure he was going to be a good catch; good job, big heart, compassionate and willing to help others at the drop of a hat. Loves kids, God-fearing, praying, and has a great sense of humour. Very kind. But then out of the blue, bam! Just like that. He needs space. (who needs space after a month’s time? I mean, we saw each other maybe twice a week?)  Whatever. I didn’t question it, I just went with it. But as I said yesterday, I am left holding my bag of emotions and I have no clue what to do with them. My amygdala took over, and I over-thought every scenario, every possible what-if. I keep forgetting about eating, (I’m still struggling with this one, as this is yet another bad habit I had to break myself of), I’m not sleeping. Every person I’ve come across can see there is something wrong with me, it’s written on my face. But how do I tell them, that a man I have only been seeing for just barely a month, broke my heart? How do I tell them that I didn’t know how to cope and that I damaged my body?

Mental illness is a funny thing. When people realize you have some form of it, they approach you with kid gloves, or even worse, treat you like you have the plague.  They think you are just that: crazy. When they ask you how you are, it’s more like….heyyyy how are you doing? Are you okayyy? In a very condescending tone, that’s not very helpful at all.  Some people think that when a cutter cuts, they are doing it for attention. That’s not always the case, and certainly not the case with me. I didn’t do it for anyone but me. I did it to feel something other than the internal struggle between good and bad. In a sense, it is almost orgasmic. That release of adrenaline, and the momentary relief from pain. Do I need drugs to “cure” me, or maintain? No. Could I use some counseling? Maybe. But at this point, I think a class on how to be in a healthy relationship, and how to handle a breakup responsibly, or even how to just deal with life in general, would be in order.

People think that, just because you got your heart broken that it isn’t enough to self harm. There are far worse things to be upset over, like wars, civil unrest, hunger, politics, the environment, and so on. But I didn’t choose to feel this way. I just do. My brain is wired differently. I know those things are horrible, but my life doesn’t necessarily include all those things. I pray constantly for the end of all things bad. All I can control though, is what happens in my own house, my own mind, my own life. And sometimes, those things get out of control.

Do I condone cutting or other forms of self-harm? Absolutely NOT. I may as well walk around with a great big “A” on my chest. It’s a very dangerous practice that could end your life. I just don’t know what to do to prepare myself when something extreme happens. I thought I did, but it turns out, I don’t. That’s why the old habits came back into play, full force.

This morning, as I stood in the shower, praying to God to take this pain from me, to forgive me for doing something so stupid (again), I envisioned angels around me, comforting me, tending to my wounds. I didn’t want to lose that vision. I felt like my inner child was really being loved. I felt warm, secure, safe.

I definitely don’t want people to see what I’ve done, and since most people I know in person, don’t even know I have this blog, I can feel free to write about it, without total ridicule.  (Of course, I know a lot of people don’t necessarily read what I write about anyway, so it’s really a win-win situation. I get to express myself, and altho’ public, no one really cares about the words flowing from a 41-year old, single mother, abuse survivor (ugh), who has momentary lapses of stupidity. I don’t know any folks my age that do this kind of thing either).

One of my dear friends is a family therapist. I know that if she sees what I’ve done, her therapy side will come out. I don’t want that. Not now. What I need is a friend to put their arm around me, and say I’m here for you. Let’s deal with this, together. I don’t want someone to look at me like I’ve gone ’round the bend, or that I need to be handled “carefully”. I just had a moment of poor judgement. Everyone does. Maybe not to the extreme I have, or maybe they have them worse. My point is, I’m no different than any other person. I just had a minor set-back. I’ll get better. I’ll be more aware. And I’ll definitely be more careful when I decide to give my all to someone.

My bestie invited me down to her place for some time to defrag this weekend. While I probably should, I’ve made the choice not to go. I can’t look her in the face, because I’m ashamed of what I’ve done. Not that she would ever judge me for what I’ve done, but still. I need to fix this. I need to reset myself and do some serious meditation and self-love.

Lesson learned: I realize after the fact, that I should have just grabbed the sharpie instead of the blade.  At least it’s washable. I have now have to reset the clock, Here I am, 12 hours into being cutter free.  Let’s see if I can beat the old record; 5 years free. Also, if you see someone with slices on their arms, please don’t judge them. You don’t know what demons are raging war inside them. And if you’re a cutter who struggles like me, please know, that I love you.

Be good to yourself darlings. Until next time…

~Mama

Old habits die hard.

Recently I wrote about finding my Boaz. I was pretty excited at the possibility of a happily ever after. That has since fallen apart. I am devastated. I mean, I shouldn’t be, right? It’s only been a month. But, a person can really find love in a short amount of time. I didn’t realize that until I met this person. I told myself from the beginning I wasn’t going to fall hard for this person, or any for that matter. I love my single-hood status. Let me say it again: I LOVE BEING SINGLE. I enjoy my space, the comforts of having the whole bed to myself, not having to share my fries, having total control over the remote, not holding in bodily sounds, not having to shave my legs if I don’t want to, and being able to sit in my panties and eat oreos for dinner if I wanted, all without having to explain myself.

But I met this man. Instantly, I felt an attraction to him, like I haven’t felt in a very long time. About a 2 weeks ago, I made the decision to just go with it. No holds barred, just love someone without any restriction. This backfired, as of Saturday. There was a situation, I commented on it, he took offense to it, and he’s been pretty much MIA since, with the exception of a phone call he placed to me to tell me that he was upset with the comment I had made on Saturday and that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be with someone who “questioned” his motives.

Okay, I get that. But how are you supposed to get to know people if you don’t ask questions? It’s not my fault that he took offense to it, but he didn’t tell me for 2 days that he was mad at me either. Maybe I should have used a little more care when I asked the questions. Maybe I should have just let it go and saved it for later. But I didn’t, and here we are. I’m left holding my bag of feelings, and have no idea what to do with them.

My heart hurts. A lot. I have been trying to figure out why. Then it hit me.  It’s been a long time since I’ve been rejected by someone I really care about. I’ve gotten really good at learning how to let go of these things, making peace with it, and moving on. But with him, I can’t. I can’t just shut off what I’m feeling, it’s not a switch. Pandora’s box has been opened, and it’s damn near impossible to try to stuff everything back into it and seal it back up for the next potential Boaz.

The last conversation I had with him was Monday. Here we are at Wednesday. He asked me for space to process everything. Give him a couple of days, and he’ll be back to his old self. My dear friend tells me I should give him his space. Let him make up his mind on what he wants to do. So meanwhile, I get to sit here and feel like I’m being punished for something I am not really even sure was a bad thing. I just feel like, if he professed to want an LTR with someone, and he made that choice to have it with me, (even before we decided to sleep together), and then all of a sudden he shuts it all off like it is nothing, did his words even hold any weight?

Maybe he really does need time to process things. Maybe not. I have been following his posts on facebook, but nothing is giving me any indication that it’ll get better between us, or things will change and this little hiccup was just that, a hiccup. Then I saw he went dancing last night, and of course some girl flirty commented on it, and that sent me over the edge.

As I write this, I do so with that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, that I gave a very special, tender, fragile part of myself to someone who yet again, threw it all away over something stupid. I can’t help but wonder if he was just looking for an out? I mean at 40-something years old, you would think men (and women for that matter), would be past all of that; no more playing games, just straight, no-frills honesty.

I could handle a “I don’t think this is going to work between us so let’s part ways” conversation, versus a “let me see how I feel and i’ll call you in a couple of days” conversation.

I end up living in my brain. I cause physical damage to my body, because I can’t eat from the stress of a broken heart, and feeling like I was used. Again. Smiling doesn’t come easy. Laughter doesn’t bubble up from my gut. All I want to do is sleep, and do self-harm (unfortunately a draw-back of being an ex-cutter), because seeing the physical wounds on my body, are much easier to explain to myself, than instead of trying to rationalize internal pain.

The only good thing about these situations is the amount of weight loss that happens, and the amount of creativity that comes out of me, in writing, in painting, in drawing.

I have been really fighting the demons as of late, because of this situation. I have to hide any sharp object. I have to remind myself how stupid it is to internalize something to the point of self-harm. I have to force myself to focus on things other than rejection, heart-ache and suffering. My inner child feels so naked, alone and afraid. She always feels like there is no one to hold her and tell her it’s okay to be sad, because the broken adult that she resides in, can’t even maintain a positive spin on a shitty situation.

Now, clearly I’m not the only one who has ever dealt with breakups, or heartache. Everyone does at some point in their life. I thank God for these experiences, so that I can grow and become a better person. But…the eyes of those prying demons, lurking in shadows, calling me out, conveniently reminding where I hid those sharp objects, telling me that one little cut will make it feel better…that’s where the issue lies. The warmth of the bosom of sadness surrounds me, inviting me in to the dark place. That’s where I live. I don’t want to be there.

Things are going so well for me and mine. We have everything we could possibly want. Everything. A home. A loving family, a steady job, a fridge full of food, a few good friends. I don’t need a man, but I crave companionship. And I had it. Even if it was for a brief moment, it was mine. And it was peaceful.

I need to continue to fight this. I have banned myself from most social aspects of facebook, only checking to update the status of my business pages, and the status of my brother who is currently dealing with some pretty heavy health issues. I have decided not to reach out to him any longer, and if  he decides to reach out to me, things will definitely be different. But I have a feeling he won’t. (trust your gut, right?)

I am doing  all of these things because, I need to be well. I can’t be well if I’m stuck on stupid with someone who may or may not have what I need. But I will tell you this, I won’t be sleeping with anyone anytime soon.

Yes, Mama is sad. But Mama will get over it. Please pray for me, or send comforting, healing vibes of love. Please tell me that I’ll be okay and that someone out there will see my worth some day, and want to be with me, really with me, and not just give me lip service.

And if you’re in the same boat as me, I send you virtual hugs and healing love and light, whatever I can muster for you. Together, we can get through this.

Until next time, darlings, you are loved.

~Mama

The B.I.G. Party

On June 19th, 2010, I married the spawn of satan, literally. I married a man whom I thought would take care of me and my children, forever and ever, amen. I walked, lovingly down the aisle, with my father by my side, to meet him at the alter under the blue tarp. Yes, we had a real, red-neck, backyard wedding.  In the mud. Guests sat on stumps of freshly cut trees, the flowers all came from Pike Place Market in Seattle. We made all the food, and of course, ran out. We had plenty of booze tho, as per his request.

We were happy, for about a minute. Then, as it turns out, I was wrong about my happily ever after. He had been cheating on me the whole time, had no interest in playing a parental role to the children, nor did he have any desire to get a job to help support us. (I was freshly let go from my 2 year stint at a corporate office for an assisted living company, which shall remain nameless). We ended up evicted from my apartment, which I loved and lived in for over 8 years, and moved way up to the top of a mountain, in the middle of nowhere.

On December 2nd, 2010 the end came, while expected, it was quite sudden.  He had not been home for two days, and he left me and the children stranded.  When he finally arrived that fateful Thursday morning, my daughter ended up being late for school because it was well after 10am before he arrived.

When we opened the van, it was littered with empty condom wrappers, cigarette butts, empty bottles of booze and the stench of pot lingered heavily in the air. I was livid, to say the least. I kicked out as much as I could, and drove the 10 miles into town to deliver my child to her designated place of education.

On the way home, I called his best friend and told him to come get him. He needed to have some time to sort out whether or not he actually wanted to be married in general, let alone to me. When I got home and told him that he needed some time away, he became quite belligerent & violent. This went on for a good hour or so, before his friend finally arrived to take him away. I was left heartbroken, confused and bruised.  My neighbor helped me get a restraining order and I filed a police report against him.  I have not seen him since, with the few short exceptions in passing at random places.

So here we are, 6.5 years later. I’ve lamented over this situation for a really long time. I just knew he wouldn’t make things easy for me, because that’s just the kind of person he is: vindictive. Selfish. Likes to play stupid games to show he’s tougher. He swore up and down that he would never divorce me, because A – he didn’t want a divorce hanging over his head, and B – Because I wanted the divorce, he didn’t want to give it to me, just to make things difficult for me. I’ve been dealing with a ton of PSTD from his abuse, but once I’ve found out about his willingness to cooperate, [ptsd] has gone quiet. Not to say that I don’t have moments of freak-out, but it’s not as bad right now.

I recently found out husband met a woman, with whom he’s been with for over a year now. They are moving to the east coast. I planned on waiting until after I was able to confirm his move, to begin the process, (to make it easier on me, but difficult for him to fight me on it, because of the massive distance between us). Somehow, his sister got wind of the situation, and managed to talk him into signing off on the divorce paperwork before he moved. He agreed as long as I figured out a way to get them to him before the end of January.

My dear friend is helping me with all of this. She printed the forms and sent them to me. I filled them in and sent them back so that she could give the forms to his sister, who will deliver them to husband to sign. Once signed, we will take them to the judge, and if all goes well, I will be finally be able to end this horrible chapter of my life.

This brings me to the title of this blog post: the B.I.G. party. (BIG = bastard is gone).  Once the divorce is finalized, I have decided to commemorate this momentous occasion by having a grand party. I plan on doing a trash the dress photo session,  then burning that bitch in effigy. I’m going to invite a whole bunch of my beautiful friends to join me, and they can even pin the names of their evil exes to the dress so they can get some pleasure of watching their names go up in flames too.

This will be quite the celebration, and it will be a time to really open up and be free from all the bullshit I’ve had to endure over the last few years. All the painful memories, all the wounds, physical and emotional.  I want to let the universe know that I am READY for all the good things that are waiting for me, once the past has been locked away.

Now, I’ve heard some people say this isn’t something that should be celebrated. I tend to disagree with that, because when a person has gone through so much turmoil, so much anguish, commemorating the event with a party to say good bye is probably one of the most healthiest things you could possibly do, providing it’s not a drug / alcohol-fueled rager.

Have any of you been to one of these types of events?  What is your take on the idea?

As the time gets closer, I will share details of this party, photos, ideas, thoughts, etc. I want my readers to know that it’s okay to celebrate the opening of new opportunities is something wonderful and deserves to be recognized.

Blessings and love to you, my darlings!

~Mama

 

Remembering the “Great Purge of 2012”

4 years. That’s how long it’s been since the great purge. I’ve read, and re-read all the posts and blogs I’ve written about this life-changing event, & re-live all the memories, see the pain & stress of worry, and desperation of hoping for a miracle, and continually asking God for a miracle to save us from the hardship we endured. It was quite the harrowing journey for me and my family, but one we managed to survive and grow out from the ashes, a deep-seeded family with a lot of love and courage in our hearts.

As I try not to dwell in the past, and I try to keep everything from flooding back and sending me into a tailspin of hard emotion, I’ve decided to read all the comments from people, who continually showed their support and love for us, as we muddled thru it. 

This year, as I try not to spend so much time mourning the loss our our lives, (our possessions), I will focus as much as possible, on the good that has come from it:

*I’m grateful so many people were there for moral support.
*I feel blessed that so many people aided us in our struggle to get back on our feet.
*I’m thankful made it thru alive.
*I’m happy our situation didn’t break us, but made us stronger.
*I’m elated that it didn’t get worse, but improved over time.
*I’m so glad that all these events brought us to where we are today, because for all intents and purposes, we are all doing quite amazing.

And yes, even in the midst of all of this, I have managed to muster enough strength to forgive all those involved with our demise. I pray for them consistently, that they realize the error of their ways, and find a way to make things right, in their own lives, as to not put another single person thru something that horrific, again. I pray that they learn to be honest, trustworthy, respectable people that learn from that whole experience. I also pray, that not only myself, but my children, learn the warning signs of what it’s like to have a wolf in sheep’s clothing, knocking at the door.

Life throws us curve balls, but I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be, to break us down so we don’t get so hung up on all the superficial things that bombard our brains and make us lose focus of what’s really important.  I think, the only way to really get the most out of it is to go thru struggles, so we can build up our faith and re-center so we find ourselves. It’s up to us to use whatever we have to fight our way thru the darkness, to come thru the other side, with a knowledge and strength, some people will never get to know. It’s up to us, not to give up. It’s our choice to push on, or give in the towel, and let the darkness consume us.

I fully believe that some of us were meant to fight, to be an example of inspiration to others. While I would never wish our experience on others, I hope someone out there, takes my story and uses it to find their own courage within, and realizes, that no matter how dark the journey, there is always a bit of “shine” along the way.

Don’t give up. Your story isn’t over yet. All you have to do is turn the page.

Happy Halloween, my friends. Stay safe. Stay strong.

~Mama

Home from surgery

This was me. Yesterday. Headed in to have the damn evil kidney stones from hell, blasted to oblivion so they may safely pass thru my body as sand instead of hideous painful assholes.

I don’t seem quite like I’m in pain, at least the look on my face tells people that. Someone actually said that to me. what they don’t realize, is I’m a fighter, and that morning I was up very early, which made me very loopy, and I was starving, not to mention thirsty,  but pre-op situations dictate that this is a must. So, with all that combined, I’m not lookin like I’m in pain, I’m lookin like I’m drunk. Well, to me anyway. the pain has become a normal thing for me, and I had begun to adjust to the levels of waves of pain that would wash over me Whenever it felt like it. Pain? Why yes. I was. Maybe not doubled-over, crying, unable to move, kind if pain that people would seemingly expect,  but it was there, and the lack of nourishment was making it bad. I was just happy that I was there, getting this over with…finally.

The procedure went well, the stones are toast, and currently I’m home, recovering. Yes, I’m still in pain,  but they tell me this is normal, for a few more days anyway. So I sit I my chair, heating pad on my side, drugs in hand, waitibg for that moment when I can move around and not wince, or get that uncomfortable feeling. That time is coming, I just know it.  😉

So, this is me, today. Well, earlier today. I’m in between medication times, so I thought I seem to be coherent enough to take a moment to blog about my experience, and share a few photos. 

Yep. I look high.

This is my bestie, and her youngest child:

Hes a funny little guy…

I got my prayer heard, and my bestie came to the rescue and is spending the next few days with me to take care of my needs. I am starting to realize that relying on others tho, is proving to be quite difficult.  I dont want to be a burden, but I know shes here to take the burden of limitations off me. Theres a whole slew of trust issues I’m working on, not with her, but with people in general. (Even my nurse said, don’t you trust me? I’ve got your back, it’s my job and thats what I’m here for, to take care of you and make sure you’re ok. That kinda hit me and made me think. A lot. but thats a story for another day).

The next few days I will remain home, thankfully its a weekend, and I will only need to miss another day or two from work. I’m not quite out of the woods, but if I keep my ass still Instead of trying to take on the world, I can recover quicker. Must remember this.