Posterous theme by Cory Watilo

Not to be all melodramatic but...

The first email I receive from Shawn in almost eight or so months is this past few days ago and it's to inform me that his rent has been raised so he needs to cut back on my alimony monthly payment to the original agreement (which I've had person after person say I need a lawyer about since I was very out of my head at the time from medication and health problems and thought I was agreeing to different terms) and I need to cover the car insurance.

The past few days I've been even further out of my head from all the stress and trauma and he sends me the alimony payment later than usual and it hits me as I look at it that all told it's $600 less per month which is what I pay in COBRA - something I'd always thought he had said he would pay from our mediated financial meeting. So I'm laying in bed, sick beyond belief, wondering if I should follow Diane after all.

Nobody wants to read that and if your first response is you want to have me locked up for my own good, DON'T. At least not yet.

I'm in huge pain and I feel incredibly alone currently. I know I have friends out there in the world, but my ex-husband is also my ex-best friend and times like these lately make me yearn for more than I think I'll ever have again.

Asked James yesterday on our way back from Lafayette and Concord if Shawn would still be with me if he still did retail. If I hadn't helped massage his ego to this monster sized one I constantly get slapped with would we have been poorer but happier together? The person who swore no matter how sick I became that he would be by my side helping me through it, would he still exist? Who swore I was enough no matter what, would he have more humility and would he have never become so emotionally abusive that I'd hurt myself just to get away?

I told James I knew there's no real answer and that questioning such things gets nobody anywhere. But it's hard at times like these, where I'm so sick I've been needing more Cortef shots than usual and my financial situation has become fairly nightmarish and my medical expenses are looming over me looking ready to crush me and six weeks in the hospital in 2012 means nothing to a person I thought was a much better person than he turned out to be to maintain a cheerful mien and not follow Rachel and Diane in that lemming like leap off the Golden Gate.

I won't. At least not now. I'm going to call disability to beg for whatever kind of help I can get. To not have to pay COBRA anymore would be a step in a good direction. But i have no idea where to start other than to call my case manager and beg for assistance. No point getting a lawyer yet.

The fear is not a misguided feeling. Both financial and health are real and factual major problems. I do not exaggerate what does not need it. My teeth, the Addison's, the numb part of my left knee, my hips and lower back, and so on are all severe and severe stressors.

My medical bills, my caregiver expenses, the beloved pets, and now the car and less monthly income by nearly the exact amount of my health insurance costs and the dental expenses of "thousands and thousands" are all piled up quite realistically. At least my personal debts are still in a tolerable range though needing clothes to fit has raised that as has needing a new couch when the old one died. Anyway, this too is more than I can handle, though I've tried before this news came from the silent ex. This news just helps to hurt me more.

Because I'm just oh so lucky. I'm hopeful of a beautiful day and help from my social worker aid woman at social security or where ever my case is and a visit from a beautiful friend to watch more of the very funny "Community" and maybe just maybe some good news from someone _anywhere_ that means struggling to survive can be made to happen. I can hope. And I can seriously wish. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I got approved for disability and IHSS and even food stamps? Because my medical expenses are so heavy those things aren't luxuries - definitely necessities.

Okay. Enough of this. Time to eat a yogurt to bounce my medications into.

Hugs welcomed. In person hugs are even better. And I'm not in danger of being a lemming. At least not yet.

June 2012 = Molly Must Be Mad

Night sweats kept me awake and then pain woke me up a few hours after I'd managed to drop off.

PT came and we took a walk around the neighborhood with James, and then Melissa joined with Tara too. What a sight we must have made, me pushing my wheelchair and Melissa walking her small pooch.

Two doctor appointments this week, therapy too - both PT and mental. Seeing Stephen Hawking. Passes to attend a Comedy Central recording at The Fillmore.

A sudden discovery means I've tickets to see Devo and Blondie at The Warfield and my accessibility needs have me in Row 1. Let me rephrase that to Row 1!!!!! Hopefully by the time of the concert I'll have a paying friend to help out, though if James still is here I won't mind having to pay his way if that's necessary.

It bothers me that a part of me feels that all of these events should be me attending with my ex-husband, because whilst it's true he'd love every single one of these, his behavior remains as cold and somewhat evil as ever. The only communication I've received from him this past year has been regarding finances and not good or helpful ones at that. His rent just got raised so now I'm left with a bitter taste and a serious wonder if everybody telling me to get legal help is absolutely correct.

It especially sucks because with the distance and time I've come to see the good and the bad and I foolishly started to fall back in love with the man I married, very stupidly forgetting that he's no longer that person. It's hard because truly I did believe he is my soul mate if I should have one. But perhaps I'm just as deluded as he is, just in the opposite manner.

Who knows.

All I definitely know is that I'm seeing Stephen Hawking and Devo and Blondie and may scrape together enough for a matinee showing of "Prometheus" this week, which on top of everything else shows just how hard I'm trying to appreciate the world around me whilst I can.

I'm worried about finances (Devo is the only money I'm spending - the rest are free or generous gifts) what with my medical expenses all piled up and now the dental multi-thousands getting added to the over $10K just overwhelming me. And Shawn's email ignoring all the requests I've made for assistance for Lolita's medical bills (his cat - another of the many things he just abandoned to my home last year) only to add a few more bills to my pile while cutting down the alimony.

I'm wrecked and I'm drained and I know from what I hear over and over that I'm hiding it well. My suicidal urges made more urgent ever since Diane jumped from the bridge last month as my vomiting and increase in pain and fears of my health insurance and disability application and IHSS needs and so forth have ramped up.

But James makes me laugh so very much. He's too young by far and all that and there's no physical attraction on either side, never mind his age or the fact my caregiver should never be an object of anything more than a healthy platonic friendship so that's good and settled, because I do think of him as a friend already. A hysterical one as far as making me laugh out loud quite frequently. But yeah, he helps me mask the truth I'm hiding and hiding from. He's an excellent roommate and an excellent caregiver and I'm glad for both of us that this seems to be working out.

Wow I'm rambling all over the place. My mental state is very confused so that's not surprising. Nor is it so that I'm terrified of how I'm supposed to keep financially afloat when I'm barely surviving as things stand now. With the cutback in my alimony I'm fairly screwed. I'm paying all my healthcare. That takes up almost everything other than rent and utilities.

I'm going in circles now.

Enough.

My only hope is getting disability and IHSS approval and really soon for both of them.

Heaven knows I'm in urgent need. Especially of Medi-Cal and all the disability trimmings. And on that note I'll just say that James and I started to watch Celebrity Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew last night and James pointed out that none of these people make gaining "rich and/or famous" look worthwhile in the least. They may have money and they may have beauty but DAMN they're seriously screwed in the head. Between all the child abuse stories and rapes and inability to connect to even one person in a truly intimate manner stories it just makes you shudder. Of course I know people with stories just as traumatic but they're not losing millions of dollars due to it. And very few of them act like the world owes them a living, as the saying goes.

I'd still love to be a character actress and earn enough to not need to worry about finances. But not like these people...

Surprise, Surprise, Surprise

Today I looked really good. However the doctor appointments and running around has me wrecked. Lucky for me that James is both a good roommate AND a good caregiver. A steroid shot to try and boost my failing system. Off to bed when I start to fall asleep on the couch. The pain is bad. The dentist appointment went almost worse than I could have imagined and I'd braced myself for the worst. Or so I thought.

I'm in bed now. Pajama dress on, Femme Pois and Petal and even Ein following to make sure I make it safely. The pain is twisting me up. But I'm here in my bed and I have medication to help ease this bad a spike, luckily. Tomorrow I will see my social worker. Then my therapist. And I'll face the teeth issue. Dentures are a very real possibility. My bad genetics added to my illness and the medications mean that I may finally have a perfect smile. A removable one, but we shall see.

I've been throwing up again. That's bad. That's why a shot should have been administered ages ago. My neighbor has giggling girls hanging out. I'm so tired of being so very sick. I want to go see the Doctor in a wheelchair but can't afford the cost. I called even to see about disabled seats. Chip should come and go with me. How awesome would that be? So very.

Enough babbling. Time to read myself to restful slumber. Mental hugs from imagined loved ones near me. Or is that loved ones imagined near me? Zoe and Chip and Kitty and Carl...and so on. The hugs can pile over me like protective blankets. I can curl up and rest my head nearly in your underarm I'm so curled up next to you. Arms around eachother as we comfort and protect one another. You think the pets around us are pure perfection. As do I.