Random posts from a writer who loves cats and coffee. An American Democratic woman with chronic illness (respiratory) who lives to read, write, and binge watch Netflix or Amazon Video. Married to a hot foodie who plays lots of video games. I'm not just a broken human, I'm also uniquely maladjusted but fun!
Relationship:
a connection, association, or involvement. connection between persons by blood or marriage. an emotional or other connection between people
| Credit: James Doyle of Jamso |
Check out @niicki's Tweet: https://twitter.com/niicki/status/735768057402908672?s=09
Where am I going?
That was once so clear.
I knew, back when I was 17 and graduating high school/ a Freshman in college, exactly where I was going and what I needed to do to get there.
Except I didn't, really. I had some big ideas. But at least I had ideas and drive. And certainty! If you had asked me what I'd do if the plans didn't work out, I'd have looked at you like you were unintelligent and replied, with careful enunciation, that I'd figure it out.
I always had, you see. So much had been tossed at me by then that I felt prepared for anything.
So the world tested me. It threw more. A lot more. All at once. It took chunks of my body, mind, soul, spirit, sexuality, bravery, strength, health... everything.
I dealt with it the best way I could. I made new plans to keep up.
Then it hit harder. So I fought harder.
Then the most awful thing that can ever happen, happened. My light went out with that blow.
No more sun in the sky.
I live by a match. And it frequently burns out. So I search for another match, and something to strike it upon. I dare not light a torch or a camp fire, for surely the signal would be easy to spot in the darkness, and I'd be crushed again.
Except the match is not enough to live by.
And this metaphor is over done.
I had goals I'd accomplish before I turned 35.
A nice list. A long list. A doable list.
I did one.
Well, one that lasted.
There are some that cannot just be moved to "by the time I'm 40."
I could picture my future before. Now I can't.
I can't even imagine what my life will be like in a month from now.
Right at this moment, I don't even have certainty of my life in two weeks from now.
Not my address, nor the well being of my family, or my financial place, or even what my health condition will be by then.
I really don't know where I'm going. I'm not even sure where I am.
Do I at least know what I might like to happen?
1- Sell a certain property to 2 close people.
1a. Be assured of their safety and well being as best as I can be.
1b. Have the necessary funds to relocate my husband and myself and aquire new furniture (so as to prevent the migration of mold as much as possible) and have proper cooling so as to facilitate my survival.
2- Get better.
2a. More than just stable.
2b. Not just "not worse."
2c. At least have some moments of less pain.
2c-1. LESS pain, not just days where it isn't worse, but days where it isn't as bad. Days at a 4 on the pain scale. Not my normal 7.
I want to add writing goals. I feel obligated to add wedding related goals, as a Matron of Honor. Friendship goals? Cooking, cleaning, household goals? Maybe weight loss or strength increase goals? Motherhood goals? Aunt goals? Reading goals?
I don't know. The stretch of the first two seems so out of reach. I should endeavor to find Atlantis, as the odds are more in my favor.
Do I dare set a goal just to have hope?
Goal: Have Hope.
Ahh, but hope leads me to trouble. It pulls at that inner girl I once was, the one who believed, the one who the world had not broken yet. The one who would have found a way to light a fire as bright as the sun. Or something. I don't know.
That 17 year old me would be pleased with the husband and friends.
But she'd find a way to overhaul the rest of this, because it'd sicken her to look at this life.
There must be a way to fix this. There must be a path I could take to get back on track.
Maybe if I knew the track, that'd help.
I play Civilization V more often, and usually on an easier level. Why? So I can win. I'm not there for the challenge. I just need a win. A small victory. It means nothing in the grand scheme of things. It's a game. But sometimes, surrounded by so much failure, I just need to do something right. It's not so much a fear of failure- that'd be silly, at this point, because it happens all the damn time- but a desperate need to win. To recall what it feels like so I can go on to something else and hope for the same elation.
Is it reasonable to expect my two current goals before I turn 40? I don't know.
Should I aim lower? I don't see how I can.
How about one? The first.
Yes. Just the first set. 1, 1a, 1b.
Though I am, with my whole heart and mind, convinced that moving from this place will lead to the second.
But I shall move but once more, by choice, in this life. If I move again after that, be assured it is because the ocean is about to consume the state, or aliens have abducted us all, or the new overlords have commanded it after conquering the nation. This is how passionately I hate moving. "Why don't you just move," is the equivalent of "why don't you just cut out some of your own organs and Frankenstein yourself back together?" It might not all fit, you might not find some of it, the infection from that could be worse than what was wrong... No. Once more, and that is it.
Ideally, I'd move in a cool October. I'd like to be party to the moving, not just cowering in the cool air.
Not that I can look at houses in the summer. Who would pay to cool it?
So shopping in the autumn, moving in the winter. But before Thanksgiving. Certainly before Dec 31, when the lease expires.
I said that last year.
And the year before that.
And the one before that, as well.
And I'm done now.
Is it depression? The thing is, as I understand it, depression is the result of chemicals being off balance. I don't know that I can attribute my feelings to that. Would I be happier if I were in my new home, and my 2 people were in their home and no longer suffering the imminent danger they face now? Yes. I've wanted that since... Honestly, since I was 13. Really, when I think on it, I worked toward that goal since then. Originally my plan was to make enough money by the time I was 23 to afford both.
I could have sold the property shortly after I got it. The bank would have been obligated to buy it. But that didn't meet my goal of getting a home for my 2 people, pulling them out of the situation they landed themselves in. (So I'm helping them land in $167,000 of debt, when one is in poor health and the other is about to turn 62. They'll have their dream, but get the cost of a nightmare. Shit. Nope, not thinking on that.)
How can I make the best of today?
Reading and writing for a bit.
How can I make the best of the next 7 days?
I don't know. Next week holds challenges that I've yet to figure out how to face.
Goal:
To believe that one day it'll be okay again. That I'll be able to be happy without sounding like a loon. (Because, I'm sorry, but it's pretty damn bad right now, so anyone who's happy in the face of a health crisis, financial ruin, family dilemmas, and safety concerns probably just doesn't understand what's going on.)
Check out @PenMinion's Tweet: https://twitter.com/PenMinion/status/733303102703558656?s=09
That tweet is your chance to win $1000 worth of notebooks for following some Instagram accounts.
https://twitter.com/niicki/status/733106932404232192
This tweet is about dreams. Accomplishing dreams is a life win.
I'm going to add to my dream comment answer here. (Frankly, 3 comments on one post is probably a bit much... )
I'm not sure how to word this dream, so bear with me. (You can also bare with me if you want to get naked. Ha ha.)
Due to my respiratory condition, I'm heat intolerant. Warm air feels like breathing in shards of glass. Slow, painful suffocation. (Zero pleasure. No idea what pleasure some people get from not breathing, but whatever "wire" in the brain has that, mine was cut.)
My best friend, Renee, totally understands. When I visit her, she's got the air cranked. If she can't get her whole house cool, she at least makes safe spots for me. And sits with me. Granted, she enjoys the cool air, so it's easier. Or maybe she's just superwoman. I don't know, but I love her for it. I never feel guilty or unsafe at her place.
Family members will sometimes set a little cold area up for me. Away from everyone. Away from the food, drinks, bathroom, and merriment. My own personal leper colony. I've sat on a chair outside and watched Christmas through the window. I understand ghosts.
I've sat at a friend's house. She was wrapped up under two blankets and still shivering. She asked if I was cold enough, and noted that I looked bright red. I lied and said I was fine. I can't bring myself to say, "no, I'm roasting hot" while the host is freezing at 72° F. Especially knowing that it'll be another 12° until I'm okay. I feel guilty, and my mind is listing the place as unsafe, which breaks my heart.
I frequently lie about being okay when I'm not. I deal with this disorder punishing me. But taking down my friends and family? That's why I became an introvert.
Yes, I've heard it's not a choice. But I was the host or co-host of parties. Ever been to a party where you only know 1 person? BEEN? I'VE THROWN THEM! I made a ton of friends that night... nights... The rager kind of lasted a few days, with people just coming and going. I moved to a town where I didn't know a soul, and I loved it. I made friends. I took over social groups. And it wasn't the first time. When I lived in West Virginia, I was the most popular girl in the school. Upper and lower classmates came to me for advice. I didn't realize I held the title until people told me. It was just me being me. For the record, I was nice, not a mean girl. Okay, maybe to Jim, but the perv needed a smack. Anyway
I'm not bragging. I'm pointing out history. I leave my house once a week now. Sometimes twice. But usually once. On Tuesday, to be with my writing friends. Except November, oh sweet tasty Nov, where we meet up several times a yummy week, mmmmmmm. ♡
That's who I am now. Sounds like an introvert. But am I? It's a choice I made because I hate having other people freezing to keep me from extreme pain. I can't bring myself to ask them to be colder. I haven't even spent more than a few hours at my parents house because my dad can't take the cold, and trying to get it cool for me and then warm for him was exhausting my mom, so I just stopped going.
So what's the dream in this? To not feel guilty, pain, or outcasted when hanging out with people? Yeah, I guess so. I dream of having this nice house where people can come over and there's room to sit. But I know I'll have to buy mini heaters for them, or I'll just be watching from another room. People aren't coming. For the same damn reason so few want to go to Antarctica. (Okay, maybe some other cold place, because I want to go! The trip costs like 16 grand, which is my not-packing-right-now reason.)
Dream to earn enough money for that trip from writing?
Would I survive the flight? What if the plane was hot? The boat leaves from South America. Not exactly known for being cold.
I'm off topic. And I still don't know how to properly word my dream. I guess it's the same one as the getting better dream. But it isn't. This one is about dealing while I wait to get better, or dealing because I won't (short of a medical breakthrough).
End thoughts.
