When I break things in I really break them!

I am learning about my limitations this week. Tomorrow the repair man comes for my chair again. Before you panic I will relay what I was told on the phone by the company. This is normal! The chair comes to the company prebuilt, and this means any fiddly bits that are loose won’t get found out until I get it. They do check the chairs but heavy use vs a test drive means that this is normal.

My poor chair… it has scraped up paint from my barely fitting in my door way, the seat belt fell off, the headrest lost it’s ability stay up, and the chair keeps getting stuck randomly and spins it’s wheels without moving. All of this is the result of my going out and down the road. I would go on side walk but the side walks here don’t all have curb cuts! My next project. I am relieved though, that this is normal. I wondered if I was somehow being too hard on this chair when I am doing my best to treat her like she’s a spun glass ornament. Fragile, in need of preservation.

I mentioned my care routine for the chair to the guy on the phone (I forgot his name) and he was impressed. Apparently most people don’t check their chair for any oddities every day, they don’t try to avoid walls (I disbelieve this one) and not everyone charges their chair nightly. I do. This chair is my ticket out of here. Here being right at my computer desk praying that I don’t have to access the HDD where it will skip. I’ve found I cannot watch movies with Media player but I can with Divx for example.

When my chair refuses to go, I get scared. I start imagining horrible things, and to be honest I have yet to shake off the feeling that the front door is too much to pass. I hear Gandalf the Grey in my head. “YOU SHALL NOT PASS.” Each glance at the door, there is the whisper. I may never leave if this chair breaks. I consider this a side effect of disability and likely this is linked to my PTSD and the recent abuses.

I will pass the door, I am going outside at least once a day. Plus I need an excuse to wear a fantastic hat! If anything I am rebelling against my own fears each time I go out. This isn’t a bad thing but it can be a bigger challenge than I am prepared for. I almost went out yesterday for a walk but I was too afraid. So I sat in my yard and stared up at the sky, and I wished for a butterfly to take my wish to the stars.

No butterflies but the moon rose in the afternoon and I felt peace again. I haven’t seen the moon in a long time, and I have missed her. I know as the sun grows hotter I will spend less time outside in the day and will sit in my yard at night with a cup of tea studying the stars. The divinity of the sky has always felt peaceful to me.

I worry that tomorrow the repair man will somehow deem me unworthy of my chair. Logically, this is not how this will go but I have a lot of unfounded fear. The recent experience of no pain meds has also left me with a shaky sensation in my emotional heart. My physical heart feels fine but my emotional heart is tempted by fear.

I know a life time of fear and I have either overcome or accepted the things that scared me as a child, some I am working on still but this new fear has the potential to cripple me where other things have not. If I let the fear of pain that has seeded itself in me win I won’t move, I won’t breathe deep and I won’t sing. A part of me feels broken, but I know that part of me is merely bruised and that bruise overlays old wounds.

I am breaking in my freedom, and Freedom won’t break on me. I keep telling myself this. Yet when I prepare to go out I have to check over a list of what feels like a thousand things just in case my body breaks down. Epipen, inhaler, cellphone, sunscreen, hat, sunshade, kitty cat, cat food, water for her, drink for me… the list goes on and on and on..

So in the end I am left to see that despite parts being loose or breaking under the strain of normal use I am not broken. I must remind myself that if my chair cannot handle going to places I have to go, then something needs to be fixed and it isn’t my life. I have waited patiently for over five years for freedom. I have fought tooth and nail for freedom. I have split myself into parts to survive being penned up. Now I can fly free, and it is time to take the kid gloves off. I will still care for my chair but my chair must care for me.

I am Kateryna Fury and I have the capacity to overcome great fear. (Green Lantern reference for the non nerdy among you.) It is through my will, my hope, and my dreams that I will over come this fear. Why fear pain? I know pain intimately. The pain that destroys me can only win if I let it. I did not let it, so why let the fear of this pain grasp me? Why fear being stuck inside? I have spent years stuck inside. Is it truly being inside I fear or is it now a fear of what I have forgotten, what I have missed and being lost in the big world? Why fear the risk of the sun or my body failing? Won’t the risk come to me if I try and avoid it?

I think I’ll go for a walk now. I must see the sky and the sun. The fear has been broken.

Forever Home

There was horror today, a horror I had not expected. I had entered a cycle of pain with my cat William. Not mine, he found a home. William has hurt me, then earned my forgiveness by being cute and gentle. Then he has hurt me. The hurting was rare at first then faster and faster. The more he hurts me the less I can play with him. The less I can play the more he hurts me. Today he nearly hospitalized me, and I could not wait any longer. At the time of this writing William just met his new owner, and he leaves us tomorrow morning.

I was terrified of him today, all it took was him jumping on me at all and there it was, the blinding pain. I did manage to shower but because of his damage to my skin, the bruises and all of the other places he has left his mark are more plentiful than the clear skin/my normal skin. There are a few places that got infected from my almost shower days before. I took a huge risk in the shower but I had to choose the pain and potential fainting in the shower for my mental health. After a certain point on the dirty scale, I have to fight to do anything constructive.

I excused his behavior because a lot of it is normal just amplified in size. I ignored the pain this caused me. When his being out of a locked room sends me into a flashback, there is a problem. It is not his fault, he just was in the wrong home. Then there was the challenge of finding him a home. I did not want him to be abused, I wanted him to be safe. His challenges also came into play. Then, there was a sudden stigma.

I have been stigmatized in a lot of ways, and thankfully not everyone did this but a few people chose to mock me instead of help me and it took a toll. I am emotionally exhausted and my entire left side is still burning from his crushing weight. Even thinking about it sends me into a state that feels like a prelude to a flashback. I am no wilting flower, but, the constant pain from abusers and then his version of love has left a mark.

William is the antithesis to the desirable cat. Most people want a small cat, dainty, young and of course playful. William is playful, powerfully built. He is a master predator without the ability to hold back. He is not good with children, other cats, dogs, and has to be indoors when he is the size of a rather small to medium dog. He is beautiful. Oh, I always find him beautiful. His golden tiger eyes peering out at the world hunting for a toy. He is sleek. Yet, he is too old for the shelters to truly home (so they say) and his disability plays a factor.

I had given up. I was crying. Then Barry my Landlord came over, he had heard from all the neighbors in our community/neighborhood that I was trying to find him a home right now or bust. He has a friend who has been looking for a special cat. She wants a cat that is big, not tiny and graceful but big. She wants a cat that plays for HOURS on end. She wants a cat that is already fixed, microchipped but couldn’t care if he has shots yet, she can do that. So he mentioned William. She works right around the corner.

William likes to go out on the scooter. He has never been outside after dark with me before, but we went and we met L. She looked at him, asked all the right questions. She asked about his favorite type of toy, how much he plays. I mentioned his special needs, and she smiled. “He’s absolutely perfect.” I almost cried. Funny thing is, while I was waiting for her to have a minute to come meet him, another couple asked about him, and they were willing to take him as well. The man was proud to state he has learned to function despite his own Traumatic Brain Injury. William had a choice of homes. The couple decided that since he fears dogs it would be best to let him go to L. My fear that no one would want him, as if I do not want him then who could? That was unfounded.

I have called everyone who was trying to find him a home, I have updated the facebook and still, I want to make sure everyone who was hoping, praying, and searching with me for his home knows, William has a forever home. Not only will he never be too big for this woman, she was excited he is not done growing yet, but she also looks forward to his pouncing her feet. She LIKES that. To me this is strange, but it is just what he needs.


I just got the call, and between texting people and emailing people, I am announcing here… I am not going to be homeless. I am not. Going. To. Be. Homeless.

The rosebush is my rosebush, the tree is my tree, the door with 17 locks (15 of which are being removed) and a chain? Mine.

I have a home. I am going to really make that wishlist now, only, one will be a list of wants, including the superfluous, the other of needs. I will actually use this as a shopping list offline, because most of what I want can be had for less than the internet demands. I can dream again. There is room for frivolity, which is a basic need in a way.

The need to dream, imagine, create, and not struggle and not feel pain. Frivolity in small doses can be the most beautiful thing you ever experience. Anything can be frivolous and my favorite flavor of frivolity? the joy of children with ridiculously complex but durable toys and my cats with their own desires.

I will post here if I have any trouble with the state keeping it’s word. They said they would help me with the deposit and first month’s rent, and so help them… they had best keep their word. If they do not, I will have to go to the media. That promise is the only reason I held out any hope for this.

Sprite is overly affectionate because I am unable to stop crying, tears of joy and relief. The instant I heard the place was mine I felt like my chest had exploded from the sudden drop off in my personal terror. I am still afraid but, now my fear is limited to the current and present dangers that moving will also diminish.

I may never be completely safe, but, I believe I can sleep at night again. Plus, no one vacuums at 6 am where I am going to live.

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