Trying Out Super 8 For Remembrance And More Venting
I'm close to adrenal crisis or whatever is going to explain my bright red face, my dimming and blurring eyesight, and the rest of what's collapsing me. I've had to take recycling, compost, and garbage out. Add dog walks, dishes, and other things I've had to do that I can't.
My sheets haven't been changed and it's going to kill me but it's a huge necessity as is cleaning up after this last psycho. How can a person claim - never mind.
My therapist, the only Candice I want in my life, called me today. She's going to get insurance handled and I'm seeing her next week.
I have to do a blood draw. Get prescriptions. Get Target overcharge fixed. Mail returns and mail to Shawn and Mom. Do laundry. Put dishes away. Find a new assistant before the wave of everything literally kills me. Painfully. No hyperbole or melodrama.
I wasn't exaggerating when it came to Purrbarella and the same goes for me and my health. I'm killing myself due to the last person's backstabbing and Machiavellian behavior. Up until I didn't let her take the car without me since I'm unsure of insurance coverage currently. Then she stopped doing anything except bare minimum of dog care. As I wrote before we both gave notice on the same day. Only she gave me three days notice.
I've had no care for a week or so. And I won't for at least another week as it stands now. So I'm in my lovely apartment with a nice sunny large room that's completely empty. I've no idea what to do. I can't hire anybody to come in because I have rent covered and utilities too.
I could use help. I hate needing help. I especially hate needing help and asking for it and not getting any real responses. I wish I was healthy and could do everything like I used to.
Funny how I had more friends when I was healthy and not only self-sufficient but also capable of helping others. Now I'm sick and going in and out of hospitals and being bedridden there are fewer and I'm more alone than ever. How pathetic this post is.
