I don’t deserve pretty dentures after the way I treated my natural teeth, that’s the way I thought anyway. So when it came time to choose the color of my dentures I didn’t want to choose a pretty white. I was going to choose a coffee drinker white, or a color warranted by someone with obsessive compulsive disorder who could no longer brush her teeth because of issues. So when the dentist asked about color and showed me examples I said I didn’t know. She automatically picked a beautiful color. In shock I said, “Really. I can have that?”
It’s been 8 months since I had teeth. I eat without difficulty, but I didn’t look like myself. My self-esteem tanked. I didn’t know it could go lower, but it has.
I cried when I put in the new dentures today. I couldn’t believe that I look like me again. My lips were full again. And I just naturally smiled again! I couldn’t believe how different I felt about myself by putting in a very pretty pair of teeth that I didn’t even feel I deserved. Yes, I gave them back, but in three weeks time I’ll pick up my first pair of hand crafted dentures with my name in them.
I got the idea to ask for my name in them because a woman who was killed on Forensic Files was helped to be identified by the name in her dentures. No lie.
Soon I’ll start the YouTube classes for speech therapy with dentures.
I’m excited. Best of all, I’ll have my dentures before time to go on my trip.
Today I started care at the eating disorder clinic for abstinence and binge eating. I didn’t feel judged at all. I didn’t feel like my size disgusted them.
I know not eating for 3 days is a problem but I didn’t realize it would be something to try to make me go inpatient for care. I said no. I’ve got too many issues. I’m better off here. Outpatient or half day care where I sleep here is fine. But I can’t go inpatient. I won’t tolerate it well.
We discussed my hatred for water except for what lives in it. I told him that when it gets on me at all I panic. It feels as if I’ll die. Like I’ll melt into a puddle of soup.
The OCD is significantly better in that it’s not ruining my life. The eating disorder is ruining my life.
Next month I see my Oncologist / Hematologist at a different clinic. I didn’t want to go to the hospital for care anymore so I’ll go to an outpatient clinic for treatment for blood clots associated with Lupus.
I can’t say enough how refreshing it is to have a good CNA! She’s been here a year. I hope she stays. 🙂
My July trip is getting closer. I’m excited! I’m making a wrap skirt with headdress and matching earrings.
This thing is huge so I’m going to make a wrap skirt and all that from this material. In general I don’t wear yellow but I’m wearing yellow in honor of my best friend who loves yellow and can’t travel to the convention center.
I’m actively saving for both trips. I don’t think I’ve been this strapped for cash in a long time. My basic needs are met but dang. Broke sums it up!
Well, for the first time ever, I’m adding a video security system to my tiny home. It’s mostly for when I’m not here. I hate that I have to do this. The world has changed. I have not changed with it nor will I. But adjustments for safety is a reasonable step to finally take.
Here’s Joe Schmoe, just for fun. My green eyed monster with an irritated look. He’s camera shy.
To most I don’t look nearly as unhealthy as I am. Will people move on and expect me to keep up bc they think I look like I can? Will people remember how bad it was physically and emotionally and have grace for me when I get messed up during anniversary times like May 7th?
I don’t think people get that just because it was 2018 that the raw fear hasn’t passed. I know my amputation is limited but it’s on top of everything else. The nerve damage is crazy. The nub is open again. Open but not infected. I’m requesting medical honey for it.
Without THC I hurt all day, every day. I’m trying to get used to being high in public.
I have nerve damage from the full mouth tooth extraction. It’s so painful I rock back and forth holding my mouth. It’s been what, 4 months since the dental surgery? Just like phantom pain in my foot, I have dental phantom pain.
I fear people will expect me to keep up in life. I don’t think I can. If I fall behind (or become mentally unwell) don’t want people to forget why then give up on me.
I’m not a slacker.
When I go to the store like today people ask why I’m in an electric chair. Old women find it OK to comment on how they see so many young people in the electric carts. They ask, what’s wrong with you that you need a cart? It’s not diabetes. It’s Lupus! Yes, different stages of Lupus can lead to kidney and vascular problems. Blood clots lead to amputation.
Days like today fluster me. I was flat out asked what’s wrong with me. I sit bc I have to. Life in a wheelchair is harder than walking. It hurts. I get pressure sores from sitting in the wheelchair. The muscles in the lower back begin to shorten and spasm. Carpal tunnel is a struggle. Life long constipation, etc, etc. Life in a wheelchair isn’t as healthy as walking.
Update – I have an active blood clot in my left hip. The right leg shows vascular issues. I’m not in jeopardy of losing it.
So, I guess it boils down to understanding. I want my friends to understand why I’m not ok sometimes. I don’t want to lose my help bc I appear healthy.
Lastly, I’d been saying I can’t survive anything else, especially an amputation, but I was wrong. I have a lot of fight left. It comes in waves. Sometimes my strength has to be mined like gold, but the payoff justifies the effort.
My hospital bed allows me to sleep well. I can lift the head and feet which helps me rest.
Joe turned 15 on the first. Come April my CNA will have been here for a full year. She treats me well. I have a CNA on Saturday too. I like her a lot.
I have a trip in May but a good friend of mine suggested we go to New York in September so I’m saving up. I’ve started using the piggy bank to bank roll the New York trip.
My new recliner is more than I could have asked for. I was going to purchase one. I even had one picked out, but friends came up with a free chair for me. It sits well and lets me raise my legs. I’m so thrilled. Joe sits with me either on the arm or between my feet.
The money I would have spent on a recliner I put towards a new manual wheelchair. The old one I had for six years is being donating for parts.
I’m comfortable. My heart is at rest and I’m fully in the moment. I’m grateful for today.
Content – Dissociative Identity Disorder, Uncontrolled weight gain, CNA in public.
Dr. D hasn’t changed my diagnosis. He still recognizes the disorder. He wanted to know if I believe that ‘they’ are all me and not actually separate. I said, I know it’s impossible to have more than one person in my head, but I want you to understand that I’ve been doing the impossible for a very long time.
I told him that I used to think I wanted to be one person but now I’m not sure I could stand the silence. I get this image in my head of a single person standing in the middle of a black tunnel, alone. That’s how I view being one person. In the middle of a dark tunnel with very little air and a whole lot of silence.
While I’d love to have less noise in my head, I decidedly do not want to be just one person. I don’t want any new people either.
I shared with him that I felt very threatened by his questions and pressured by my insiders to speak up for them. They would have felt betrayed had I not stated that we’ve been doing the impossible for a long time, and they’re here.
I talked to him about how panicked I’ve been lately.
I’m having a hard time settling down enough to post art for sale in my shop. I’ve got six items but I can’t seem to get over there and post more. I don’t know why. So, I’m just letting myself paint as much as I need then when I’m able I’ll post more art for sale in my Etsy shop.
Me = I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror today. I swear, pounds just pack on me no matter what I do. I feel so ugly.
I was supposed to go to the mall to roll around in my manual wheelchair but I’m afraid to go to the mall. I don’t want to get shot.
Could I somehow, some way get doctor’s clearance to go to Planet Fitness? Could I have CNA coverage and transportation? Am I a fool for even thinking it?
CNA = My psychopath CNA is going to get us killed with her rage, laying on the horn yelling at people. I don’t want to continue to intervene as if somehow I’m here social worker or therapist. I have to let her know that if her actions cause the police to be called, she can’t work for me any longer. I’m going to have to tell her that it’s not a joke, if someone calls the police bc you threw something or threatened someone, you don’t work here anymore.
I had a really nice Saturday person that cared for me. I hope she can return.
Why do I hate myself for having care? I don’t think everyone inside agrees with that statement.
Content – Domestic Violence, sexual abuse, negative family response to child abuse, emotional, CNAs
You know how you listen to a person complain but they fail to change what they’re complaining about? You try to be supportive but you just end up frustrated because the person will not make a change. I’m doing something like that right now.
I needed to make a decision, then I needed to act on it, so I did. I didn’t make the decision based off of what others might do but off my experiences. So, for now, I’m keeping the psychopath CNA that I have because in addition to her psychopathy, she shows up to work every day, on time and without those ridiculously long eyelashes and fingernails. This 65 year old woman doesn’t change her hair every 3 days which means I recognize her when she arrives.
When my CNA shows up she’s not drunk and her car has insurance and doesn’t smell like weed. She’s clean. She takes me to the store, on and on. She’s not obese. Why do they send obese CNAs to help an obese patient living in a tiny apartment? Make it make sense, boo. So yeah, I’m keeping her and her psychopathic tendencies until further notice. I intend to complain about her behavior. You don’t have to listen if you don’t want to.
Dr D asked if I was being abused. I told him I’m not sure I’d admit it if I was. I wonder if I’d respond like a battered wife, again. I know I would, which is why openly discussing issues with her to my therapist will be important.
I think I’d be embarrassed to say I’m being abused. The fear is that I won’t be believed or that I’m being too sensitive. I worry I’ll then be labeled as someone who has to be watched or I’ll make accusations. Let me explain.
After time in Florida with my now deceased uncle and my mother’s sister, I returned to Indiana on an emergency flight. In Florida I was going to be left home alone with an abuser, the uncle, for a full weekend. Very long story short, when I got back to Indiana I wasn’t allowed to be alone with my grandfather anymore. One aunt said she didn’t want me to have the chance to make accusations against him. I felt marked and like everyone would be on guard around me for fear I’d strike with a terrible accusation. I couldn’t be around any males alone anymore out of concern for them. I worry about the same kind of thing happening now.
I need help sifting through the drama and mayhem that happens here sometimes. I need help sorting through my emotions concerning treatment by any given individual. Why? Because my eyesight has been altered by child abuse and abuse in romantic relationships. I don’t see as clearly as I need to which is why I will benefit from bouncing things off my therapist concerning CNAs.
A second pair of eyes will be helpful especially when that person understands I’m not as emotionally strong as I come off. I don’t look like I could be abused and say nothing. I sometimes feel just like that little girl in the old photos on my wall. I’m not though.
I think it’s sad that I need to accept a certain level of drama and mistreatment as normal CNA behavior. I’m not a person that just anyone can work with. My mental health often clashes with the CNAs mental health. We are both guilty of impatience, preconceived ideas and plain ol being tired of people. Putting these CNAs in with us is like putting the odd couple together. It either works or someone is flipping out. It’s so stressful.
When she comes in I look at her to see what mood she might be in. Yeah, there are serious issues here but so far things remain under control as far as abuse goes.
This battle with caregivers will not end for me. I’ll have caregivers for the rest of my life. I’m learning how to deal with them and I’m learning how to be strong enough to speak up for myself when it comes to abuse.
If a person wants to argue, I can argue with the best of them, then tell everyone what happened. But if I’m struck, intimidated or threatened, chances are I’d say nothing. That. must. change.
I’ve come to understand the semicolon to represent times when a person could have given up but didn’t. This is a miniature 3 part painting in progress. Acrylic and oil on 3×2 wood piece with rounded corners. This is about half way done.
I don’t feel suicidal, nor did. It’s just that a rather triggering conversation came up about suicide. I just sort of painted through the heavy emotions.
The young girl in the original artwork decided to keep going, to never give up. She made it through the darkest times then took the opportunity to appreciate the small things.
It’s sobering to think that no matter what we do or don’t do, bad things happen, sometimes in rapid succession.
There’s an historic example of a man who lost loved ones, employees, finances and his health in no time flat. When I think about his life before disasters struck, I can see he did everything right, then blam! When reading that account there’s something I noticed, something I missed about it 5 years ago. He asked a lot of questions to help him understand his situation.
This poor guy got a lot of flack from people who should have supported him but didn’t. True help came from an unexpected sourse. But what gives me pause is how the gentleman handled himself during the entire nightmare. He listened more than he spoke. That’s significant for me right now.
I have so much going on with my health that I wonder how much one body and one mind is supposed to take? I’m not alone in piling up devastations.
I’m shocked and horrified by what my friend from the hospital in 2018 has gone through. It’s not bad enough she has Lupus, was on life support, had a stroke, had to relearn everything from being paralyzed to the point she was only able to move her pinky finger. Do you know the fight it takes to come back from that?
She spent significant time in a nursing home which is where we met. After she left and hoped to move forward, she had cancer and needed a double mastectomy! All without the support of her parents, for whom she openly grieves. Really?! Can our girl please have a break, too?
I think I understand even better why it’s best to take life one day at a time. I make arrangements then do day to day battle towards the fulfillment of the arrangements / goals. A day at a time is hard enough. I’m not about to double up on troubles.
As it stands, I’m going to need 2 hip replacements due to avascular-necrosis (AVN), the left is first. I can hardly sleep bc the pain has been high. Sitting can be difficult.
I’m discouraged if not fearful. I don’t want to have a knee jerk reaction to anything but I do want to prepare. I’m so grateful for having a good CNA. Please let her stay!
I’m working to downsize my responsibilities. In addition to selling 5 of my largest plants, I’m going to need to downsize pets before a yet to be scheduled total hip replacement on the left followed by an eventual total hip replacement on the right.
I’m going to rehome my two Madagascar Tomato Frogs as one complete unit. They come with their bioactive terrarium. I placed them on Marketplace and listed the various plant types, hard wood, hides, lights, screen and locks. These were purchased from Josh’s Frogs as early juveniles. They remain healthy at age two.
I hate to see the Tomato Frogs go. There’s no way on earth the 100g White’s Tree Frog terrarium is going anywhere. Don’t even ask lol The only pets being offered are the Tomato Frogs. Everyone else is staying. We already know Joe Schmoe’s place is secure.
Emotionally I feel hopeful about this. I fear having hope that maybe…. maybe with new hips I might walk again. I’m afraid to put my energy into what seems impossible.
As I was writing this, it occurred to me, I shouldn’t feel stupid just because something I hoped for didn’t turn out. For some reason I thought, if I openly hope to walk again but it doesn’t happen, I may feel foolish. And I will have made others hope without pay off for their support. This is wrong. Who wouldn’t hope to walk again? Who? And what friend witholds support because their personal pay off isn’t high enough?
I fear disappointing people. If I don’t walk will I have wasted their time? l honestly feel ashamed that I’m getting ready to put my friends through yet another ordeal. The hip replacement isn’t the ordeal, it’s my blood disorder related to Lupus that has me so worried.
My hope is to listen to the support of my friends without countering it with fear of disappointing them.
I intend to speak less and hear more. I don’t mean silence. I mean that my personal expressions and opinions don’t have to be shared in full, at all times. In my private life, I need to allow others to express themselves more.
There’s a time to speak and a time to listen. If I’m talking to a friend, I’ll hear more and speak less. In a group of people I don’t know well, listen more, speak less. Perhaps by not dominating the conversation I’ll hear the tid bit I need that changes the day from burdensome to manageable.
Subject matter – No details of anything but I do talk about where I am with grief. Very emotional….
I’m all over the place today. Today my CNA asked about K. I basically just said that sometimes young people don’t have enough life experience to fully understand “this too shall pass.” We talked about her children and grandchildren, about life goals and achievements. It was nice. What I didn’t expect to was to have yet another conversation about suicide a little later in the day, online. That conversation felt like it wiped me out. I had a headache by the end of it. I still hope that person is ok.
I’m struggling with concerns about being weird. I don’t know how to change that so that people who are a little more typical won’t run away. I feel like I live a life of secrets sometimes. People in my everyday life can’t know about the Dissociative Identity Disorder. No, most people aren’t able to handle that. Society barely can manage PTSD, they sure don’t need to try to manage the DID. I’d never tell my CNA she has more than one client.
I wonder if there will ever be a space I can share with another human being without fear of being ostracized, without misunderstanding basic human intentions?
I just read that sentence and it occurred to me that I feel alone and lonely.
There are many things that now feel like they fall into the “I can’t” category. I long for adult conversation outside of my apartment, which happens to be an extension of inside my head.
I feel like a trapped animal while sitting in a wheelchair.
Last Monday I talked to Dr D about trying to put away issues I can’t do anything about or that I’ll deal with later. I don’t like the standard way he showed me so I changed it a little bit. He said to visualize putting problems in a box then put the box up. That has worked once for me, but not again, so I changed it a little bit. I have two small treasure chests. One small box holds letters and notes about things I can’t do anything to change. The other treasure box is a little larger and holds issues that I’ll manage at a different time. The two boxes don’t sit out in the open. I put them up.
I have no intention of adding anything at all about K’s death bc it feels like his death is all I have now. I’m afraid to let go of the grief. There are no new memories to be made with him. There’s just grief. If there’s no grief then even the memory of him feels like it will fade. I feel like I’ll fade.
Its odd to hate the grief but still that’s all that’s left. I still see one photo of him in my head. He’s 3. He smiled at me over his shoulder. I think of that photo now and I want to ask him, why did you make me love you if you were just going to leave like that! Why did we survive, what was all that for? I try not to let my head go there too much.
I have a question for him – knowing everything we know / understand now, would you do it all over again? Would you take your life all over again?
Its late. I should eat something. I could use a good meal but that won’t happen until tomorrow.
I broke both wrists and strained my right shoulder. Yeah. Not good. It’ll be interesting to see how the next 8 weeks play out. That’s how long before the shoulder and wrists start to feel better.
I still need to be able to paint so I’ll be doing pinkie paintings. 🙂 I’ll have to try to cover all cast and wraps. Thank goodness for press and seal.
I’m definitely not ok with this situation but I’m relieved I can accommodate my need to create.
Also, I’m still working on getting an electric wheelchair bc rolling myself around isn’t working right now.
