Since I figured Chris OR moving things anywhere in the apartment wakes her up, whilst she says the TV doesn't bother her as she can't hear it, I spent last night watching tv (that she said she couldn't hear).
Didn't do anything else. No dishes, no food, nothing but watching TV.
From there I got ice water, then peed, & went to bed.
So what is the response when I go in and ask her if it's okay if I invite Chris over? First "Whatever, it's your house." I respond that I can have him leave at 10pm with the exact same response. When I tell her that's not strictly true and that I thought that by doing absolutely nothing last night she would have had no problems sleeping (earlier she told me she slept - in my car - in the Target parking lot because she needed to sleep sometime(!)). She actually glared at me!
Followed that by accusing me of doing other things. I asked her what? She refused to respond except to say that I think I "can't do no wrong." over & over again. When I asked her what again, she turned passive-aggressive. I started shaking and turning nauseous because I was extremely particular.
Didn't water my plants. Didn't refill the pets water. No food. No dishes. I did get a glass of water with ice - as quietly as humanly possible - before heading to the toilet. Changed my top before getting my bed ready by straightening the three top blankies & throws. Fed my fish. Got my medicine ready. Went to bed. Played games and read. That's hardly doing anything loud, noisy, or even fucking unexpected.
She didn't tell me what she allegedly caught me doing at any point and I asked her over and over again. If she really wasn't imagining things why the drama? Why the attack without a straightforward response to a straightforward question repeatedly asked? I wasn't doing ANYTHING that makes noise. Especially not anything loud or disrespectful or even unconscientious.
So I told her she has two weeks. I'd give her two days after her cursing me out, but her car doesn't work right now and I'm not about to put her out in the street. Though she has done some extremely unconscionable things with my finances. She had my card until I just took it back after this further show of disrespect of my lack of finances.
More on that later. But I'm trying to decide how best to move forward. All I know is getting her out is best for me. Best all the way around, no matter what. She says she has a job to do while here and we will just leave it at that.
But it does make me wonder about some things she told me...when somebody acts a bit crazy like this it brings all sorts of questions into play. Was James really transgender? Did Shana's last live in situation really have her dementia patient smile before throwing oil at her face (she does have scars that are healing but from that or something less dramatic)? Will and Erica were the most drama free and least mental in a lot of ways.
This sucks. I want to be healthy again. I don't want to need a caregiver. Maybe I should look for a different place to live. Somewhere flat, few stairs, maybe a yard. The apartment around the corner would have been perfect - dammit for being second in line!
So I gave her fair notice though I'd kick her out tomorrow given a choice. But Chris is heading over and my phone is fading so I'm ending this here for now. So much more to write about! Good and bad.
Aargh!
I really like Shana. Seriously. She's very knowledgable about our shared adrenal insufficiency condition. She, like me, has lost much due to her struggle with it. While I lost my house, husband, career, and so forth, she lost a successful career in the entertainment industry and other things that perhaps don't equal the devastating extent of mine but it's not really a pissing match of who lost more. Loss of things that matter most, like family, friends, self pride gathered from a successful career, and even an onslaught of self loathing brought on by a double in weight from life sustaining steroids all add up to the same thing: loss of self which can take years to regain. If ever.
So when she behaved tonight in an utterly neurotic and attacking behavior I was double whammied by her both blatant disregard for my quiet movements by stating I was slamming dishes and doors in the kitchen when I hadn't touched any dishes and I even open and closed the pantry doors to show her their silence.
I've never had a single other roommate mention loud sounds in that bedroom from the house excepting one who slept lightly and therefor used ear plugs to sleep.
The worst part was her claiming she hasn't been able to sleep for nights because of alleged noise. My new friend, Chris, has come over three times. And every time I've kicked him out at midnight OR he had to leave by midnight to bike the six miles home to meet a friend (the night she just claimed he was here until 1:30am, an impossibility due to his leaving here in order to meet a friend from Sausalito). She repeated her claim over and over and it's an issue of he said-she said and I'm not looking forward to our talk.
Especially after my endoscopy and sigmoidoscopy - IF they can even do them since the Dulcolax pills haven't kicked in yet. And I think she effectively, it sounds stupid but, stole my car yesterday. She's not permitted to drive it for her own things, especially as she owns her own car which is currently taking up my parking space and has been basically since her first week here.
So there's a lot I'm not happy about and I guess if it comes to it and she tells me she wants to leave it will not be that big a loss. I mean, she leaves candles burning 24-7 and hasn't put sheets on the bed that I loaned her - not even pillow cases! Just disgusting coming from a woman who told me she believes they should be changed weekly. Anyway...
There's definitely things about me she could kvetch about. However I did loan her $100- cash to help her out. Granted it was literally for two hours. But it was more than I can afford to risk but I trusted her enough to do so. And there's another good part of her that I would miss: I do believe she's trustworthy. I do believe her heart is in a good space. But should a woman who goes to sleep every night at 10pm live and care for one who must take her last medications at 12am? Possibly not.
And a part of me says definitely not if it brings a very neurotic aspect out into her personality. One that doesn't look at reality. How can I get her to understand that she either misread her clock? In fact I just remembered! She came to me and said she thought he was still here when he had left an hour or so before! I'm hoping she will remember that when I remind her because otherwise it can't continue for either of us.
In fact, after she came out tonight to complain about my non-existent dish moving I heard her come out again as if to say something about what I think she was imagining hearing, only to discover tv on low, me with my bad hip and leg elevated and watching the subtitles. So she turned and went to the toilet. What will I do if she threatens to leave or just tells me she is leaving?
Look for a different situation. Possibly look for a one bedroom somewhere with a yard for the dogs and a parking spot nearby and preferably on the ground floor with no stairs. MAYBE repost the ad. Maybe not.
But I'm getting tired of neurotics and psychotics. Erica and Will: two years and nine months respectively. James almost lasted three, Neuroptik four. There's been a smattering of others that I've either booted, mutually booted, or been shocked by a sudden disappearance of. Psycho older letch, psycho hot chick, and James respectively fitting those descriptions.
My phone's about to die so I'm off from the living room to my bedroom. To say that Shana has let me down in both her abuse of my trust and her neurotic behavior has me feeling fairly upheavaled would be short in depth of description. I WANT things to work out, but I don't want my car being used for a second job without my permission and I don't want to feel taken advantage of or taken for granted. Having just had that situation with James I don't need to jump right into it again.
Please let me be wrong and for tomorrow to bring a better outlook in both of us, maybe even apologies. If she can recognize her neurosis and her misreading of the clock and apologize then we can move forward and I can apologize for...well, what? For not knowing my quiet movements in the kitchen area keep her awake? I can't apologize for things I'm unaware of and for her to behave in a passive-aggressive manner can't tell me what's wrong for real. Chris has never stayed past 12:30 in any of his three visits. She could have come out any time to say something, but didn't until now and then had the attitude that it's my fault she can't sleep.
Ugh. I'm getting worked up, and stupidly at that. Time to charge the phone and hope those tabs work to clear me out before the next cleansing process before my two procedures. Lucky me!
Perhaps not my Mom, but I do wonder. Watching the brand new second season of "Animal Hoarders" on Netflix continues the duality inducing feelings of there's my Mom and these people are sick. Seriously sick. And yet I'd never have guts to call a show on her. First of all she'd refuse. Secondly I don't think she'd ever ever ever see that she has a problem that's destroying her husband's health and wearing him slowly down. Especially since he loves her too much to really complain to her directly. But I know he has said things to other people than just me.
Chris is a guy who by his own admission looks a bit like the actor Billy Zane. We met on OKCupid somehow. Our personality matches certainly didn't put him in my "quiver" or anything. But tonight was his second visit and once again we had a great time. Nothing romantic or sexual definitely! But he definitely is fun to talk to and watch movies with. Shana let him in when he arrived and she told me before she went to sleep he puts out good energy. Yes, she's definitely NOT a skeptic or even close. More on that some other time.
But just like Shana and I have so much in common for all our differences, the same goes for my burgeoning friendship with Chris. He's definitely a trip and a half. And he makes me delicious whiskey-caramelized popcorn. He even offered to come over later today (well, Saturday) to see about making me fresh, from scratch, funnel cake.
I did a LOT today and I had to beg off to see how I handle today. If the extra steroids keep helping me sleep fully, if still on the wrong cycle, and get up out of bed. I even cleaned up and restarted a new salad greens cycle on one of my Aerogardens. Faxed (again) my certification to BPG for in home delivery. Cooked plantains that all three of us happily noshed on. Heated one of the dinners received by me from Project Open Hand. I share those with my companion since we're both effectively poverty struck.
My financial situation is dire. Mostly due to my medical costs and my sudden drop by $600/month in alimony payments. I need a lawyer. Just to help me sort the mess I've made of my life out. My free meals end at the end of August it appears. It's amazing how much that helps. As does each credit card being paid off. I actually overpaid one so in the next ten days I'll get a check to deposit in my account to put toward food. My savings account is almost completely depleted which worries me. Granted it took almost a year, but still...I'd hoped to put it toward a downpayment on a house, instead of each month it getting whittled away by emergency pet care, emergency medical costs, and so forth.
If I could I would buy a place in a heartbeat. I miss the house in Austin. Knowing Jafo and Raine destroyed it and Shawn walked away from it due to the destruction by them and the destruction in himself does hurt me. Almost on a daily basis.
If I could have Shawn take Lolita and Petal I would. But he has refused point blank to take his cat. And refused to help in her care. And I can't give her up. Not now when she's older and freaking me out by licking her hair off (two veterinary visits of $100+ each for nothing). Everybody's asleep in the room with me. Two dogs and a cat on the bed and Petal camping out on the office chair in the corner.
There's a foster care group called "Seneca" Shana told me about. $2000/month to keep a bedroom available, and $110+ for daily care when you have a child brought to you. Plus all medical and schooling paid. Plus daycare paid if needed. That is incredible! I mean, if you have your own child you don't receive that aid! It doesn't make sense. But all you need is to have a separate bedroom for the child or children, an approved safe apartment or house, and your own income from anything, be it disability, a job, unemployment, or spousal support. You do need to take their courses. Anyway, Shana thinks I should apply. That's why I researched it.
It's definitely out of my capabilities now. But maybe I should think about taking the courses just for the experience. I don't know. About anything. I've been offered a fondue dinner out in exchange with a foot fetishist followed by a movie while he massages my feet. Is that too little to ask or does that make me a paid whore? Even if no sex occurs? LOL. Seriously. I don't know where those lines are anymore. I love fondue. He loves massaging feet. I haven't allowed anybody to kiss me since the last time I was with Shawn, years ago.
That's a whole other topic.
Not a single deep kiss in all this time. No real allowing of my body to drop its defenses and sink into that perfect sensual understanding that a perfect kiss shares. There's only a couple of people in my life I'd even seriously consider it with now. Z**, W****, C***, and maybe two or three others. Nobody seriously involved with somebody already. I've definitely left the land of poly, at least for now.
I've written a lot but barely scratched the surface of my thoughts. Off to try to sleep before the sun rises. I'd like to not wake up, but if I must, it would be nice to feel a little love, but maybe I'll have to settle for homemade just for me funnel cake. We shall see.
I'm exhausted. I have an endoscopy and spagiography coming up this Thursday and with a 7am checkin, I've got no chance for sleep based on the timing of all the prepping. I'm seriously trying to pull myself out of this and sleep and I just realized I almost forgot to change my Vivelle.Dot before sleeping.
Good night. At least for now.
I know I'm fat and don't look like myself and it's horrible because I wonder if it would be better if I was still a mere 105 pounds because for some reason looking like you can't eat is more acceptable and attractive than looking as if you eat too much! Why is that? What's wrong with the world that people who found me attractive before the steroids blew me up no longer find me worthy of dating or sex or even love? Without sex?
And why is it alright to assume I'm healthy and merely, oh I don't know, playing at having a disability? To walk up to somebody in a wheelchair and ask in such a manner I think would be much less likely if I was 105 pounds and still looking, as I used to joke, as if I'm a crack whore. Why is that? Seriously? What's wrong with the world that looking sick one way is more acceptable than looking sick another way?
Definitely feeling the stress of my situation and my condition after seeing my dear GP today (Shana loved her, incidentally). I'm looking at pictures James took of me at the event Sheldon put on and I'm so obese that I don't see how I can get much more full of hate toward my condition and the body I've ended up trapped in. Seeing Shana going through the exact same thing should help, but I'm not certain that it does.
Knowing how sick I am and that I have to take more of the hateful steroids in order to heal so I can get up without turning completely into a caricature, like somebody has poured white paint on my skin as sweat breaks across my brow, does more than kill me. It makes me want to die even more. If I stop the steroids I could die within a week or two but oh so very painfully. And I'm not ready to die painfully. Not yet.
Though, if this doesn't cease and desist why continue to suffer at half mast for years when Dr. Julie said I could end up in a coma if I don't have my steroids properly balanced.
And yet I'm fat and unattractive from taking the medications I need to keep me alive. Shawn doesn't think I'm worth it. Sure, he's a bastard as our GP (mine only now, but she was both of ours so she's seen what he's done and therefore has the right to consider him such) has said multiple times.
An older man I have a crush on just posted a picture of a gorgeous woman he's at an event with and it eats me up to see her. To know I'm so much less now in people's eyes than I was before the Addison's Disease and the hydrocortisone that is blowing me up like a balloon to be popped.
Full of self hatred and disgust and yet also full of confusion because I never see myself as I am. I still have the image of myself for 25 years (15 years to 40 years) of me being skinny. 2009 saw me balloon. And I am crying because isn't it enough I lost my house, my husband, my health, and my life as I knew it? Why this too? Why spit on me when you've already steamrolled over me? Why?!?
Well, enough of this. I need to de-stress since I'm spending tonight happily eating french fries for my dinner. No more, no less. Paying some bills. Watching Survivor Man. And trying not to beat myself up anymore than I already have.
But yeah...I'm not a happy camper right now. Even my transgender love doesn't take me seriously now. She doesn't and neither does my older gentleman. Luckily a guy who I'm just hanging out with sans anything other than platonic that I met on OKCupid wants to hang out with me tomorrow. He's a bit of a Billy Zane looker, but he's like a version of Carl but he actually texts and asks if I have time to hang out.
Self portrait taken tonight sans makeup or lights with my iPad. Getting used to photographing myself as I am now in a decently flattering way. Now to learn to pose for others in the same way. Any local (or non) want to come over and help me relearn my modeling craft? Because I do have to relearn from the beginning again. When your whole face and body double in size (literally) you do need to relearn how to present yourself to cameras.
Sigh.
Lolita keeps stretching a paw out to touch my cheek or the side of my brow.
When I'm as devastated by my physical health as currently they generally all seem very aware of it. And tonight's been a doozy.
The desire to have income, real income, not the 1/3 of the alimony/medical care I should be getting by law (how wonderful to take advantage of a person in desperate need of an advocate, and abuse the trust and faith of over a decade) - to be in charge of a business of my own making!?! Oh gods, what Faustian deal would I have to make? If only I could use my weakness and illness to not only help others, but to also create a thriving business whilst doing so.
But how?
From what ashes can a Phoenix arrive? Perhaps a medical weekly podcast? One based from the ill person's perspective starring myself and Shana? The faith believer and the atheist? Finish my book? Turn it into a script? It's more script than novel currently anyhow.
Shana says she thinks I have the successful business already in me; an egg waiting to be warmed and hatched. That's not as far fetched as it perhaps seems. I've all the equipment necessary to do a video podcast already. I've the lights and cameras and skills necessary to edit even.
Of course I'm trapped in bed close to 24-7-365 currently. This adrenal crisis flareup is pretty damned hardcore and has me weaker than I'm used to. Seeing Dr. Julie tomorrow to get her opinion on what I should do next. If she doesn't know than need to give Dr. Linfoot a call to get his input. It's bad enough I don't feel very melodramatic saying I feel ready to die. I'm begging the universe to let me go in my sleep it's so awful.
Yes. I'm ready to go but my babies, my sweetlings, they have me surrounded and as usual they're the only reason I feel guilty about wanting this all to end.
Oh fuck! I just realized (this continues to show how much I need an advocate) due to Shawn's pushing the divorce through without giving me any warning or time to get help that I need a TEXAS family law attorney to help me pro bono. I've really been screwed royally by this "man" who used my illness, my weakness, and my fears of ending up on the streets in this condition against me. He's a man in age, but any abuser is no real man. An abuser is a weak person who uses their position of power to manipulate those weaker than themselves.
Carl, Erica, and various others who need not be named warned me over and over again...but without any financial help what could I have done differently?
I need to rest. But I also need to remember these truths when I wake up tomorrow so I can try to figure where to go from here. Any advocate offers welcomed. Any advice on where I can find help financially in an entropanureal way (including spelling the damned word correctly) also welcomed. And as always, cuddles and care not only welcomed but returned wholeheartedly.
In short, she too has adrenal insufficiency. She's also a mere few years older than me and was diagnosed approximately at the same age. We swapped pictures of ourselves before steroids and were both stunned.
I cried.
So this is what it's like when people meet me and see what I was like before this horrible disease attacked me. She was gorgeous. Just gorgeous. She's a size 18 now. And like me she has had to deal with people's rudeness or crudeness or ignorance. "Why can't you lose the weight?" "Why can't you stop the steroids?" "But you look healthy!" And so on and on.
She lost a thriving business in Los Angeles, friends, and more. I lost friends, my husband, my house, modeling and photography capabilities, and more. We have both negative and positive qualities in common. There's tentative hope that this can form a base of a healthy living situation for both of us.
Will wrote a very comforting email to me. He helped me realize that what James did had nothing to do with me as he was with me for nine months and found it easy to handle. I'm very generous and caring and didn't deserve to be just abandoned when I'm this sick and gave James much more than we had agreed upon based on my wanting to see him thrive. It's in my nature.
I'm foolish that way.
Just ask my ex-husband.
I've had so many people say that my health care should be covered by him and I've had a fair amount say that they believe he had the advice of a lawyer, unlike me. Would he have done so and lied about it? Yes, maybe he would.
But for now, I'm very sick from all the physical and emotional stress occurring and I need rest and lots of it. I'm almost out of my hydrocortisone and there's been a foul up with my insurance that needs fixing ASAP. And on that note I'll get ready to sleep. I've spent most of today sleeping due to this adrenal problem flareup. Need more. My teeth aren't helping, that's for certain.
But I think Shana is.
It was, in it's way, a major relief. I'd wondered early on about his voice, but let it drop with little further concern after the first week or so. It didn't shock me, though I did keep asking why it had taken so long to tell me. Especially considering all of the opportunities he'd had to say something, all the openings due to discussions we'd had about friends of mine and such. He couldn't really give a satisfying answer, but no big deal.
Then the very next day we had our first fight. One that ripped me apart and caused me to sob for what felt like hours.
Just like I'm sobbing now.
Because as I was laying in bed watching a series on animal attacks on humans allegedly on the rise, just relaxing, I turned and noticed James looking at me through the screen door. He burst out with news of a sudden and unexpected nature: He found a place to live and he's moving out. He'll come over to walk the dogs and take me to appointments while I look for his replacement, but he just doesn't think this is a good situation for him.
He kept stressing it not being me or my fault, but as I told him, ever since he came out to me he's been weird toward me. Like the fight the very next day felt manufactured which contributed to my dismay and long crying bout. And now this? He had a lot of time to bring problems up. He certainly could have let me know he was on the hunt for a different living situation rather than going behind my back and everything.
I'm beyond hurt and I'm beyond betrayed. Which I did let him know I felt.
Before he went to bed he did give me a booster Cortef shot, which I desperately needed at this point. But this really hit me, as I had absolutely no idea that he would do this. I thought we were becoming friends. I felt like this was a good situation for both of us. And I feel like I'm missing a piece of the puzzle. There's something missing from the equation that is just being hidden and would allow me to understand if I could see it.
But while it's missing I'm stuck feeling utterly devastated and truly betrayed. When he told me my stomach just dropped and it's not recovered yet. I'm not recovered yet.
Need to start looking again. I told him I hoped this was a repeat of his sudden "I'm homesick and going back home." That would mean in a couple days he'd ask me to take the ad down as he realized it was just him freaking out. But I don't know. I'm going to try and just move on as though he won't come to his senses.
I'm emotionally wrecked from all my medical and financial problems which already have me overwhelmed. Losing James as caregiver and as roommate just exacerbates my whole messed up state. I need something to help me get back to at least a semi-safe feeling. Because as of now, I'm feeling up shit creek without a paddle.