Reset (Trigger Warning)

I have hit the reset button on every relationship in my life at least once.  Everyone goes through periods where they reevaluate things, forgive things, or decide that people aren’t worth their time. It’s a part of nature, and that part is supposedly what keeps our world in motion. That supposition is crap of course. I gave my mother another chance out of desperation. She came through just enough for me to get my hopes up that maybe things had changed.

My bad. No, really it is her bad. I know she could find this and read it. Hell she has given clues she has read my blog. Maybe this was a form of punishment for it? I am tired, I am in so much pain, I am barely sleeping again, and I am still without my bed. My bed isn’t a luxury, it is a necessity. I know that sleeping on the waterbed increases my health because I actually sleep. Right now I am sleeping on a broken couch.

I have been moved for almost two weeks, and still no bed. Why? Because she argued with my older sister, so I receive the punishment from them both. Why? Because I come in second or third or tenth place to a lamb. I understand that other people’s wants and needs are important, I have spent my life dedicated to fulfilling their wants and needs at the expense of mine. I have sacrificed and bled for these same people. I try so hard to expect nothing because when I do get something there is a price.

First they damaged the waterbed wood. Flat pieces of wood shouldn’t have big holes in them when moved unless they are mishandled. That is not fixed yet. Then they cut my HOSE. If I want my bed filled I have to buy another. So I’ll have two hoses, one in two parts. It’s just MY Hose so why bother respecting that? Sure it could be repaired, but only if I can do it myself and I cannot.

The awkardness I feel when speaking to my mother is returned too. The knowing that neither of us is able to say what we want. I feel like I lie when I say I love her. I do love her, but it feels like I am saying it just so she may do what I need and not what she wants for me. I wonder if she wants me to just suffer? What did I do that was so bad? Compared to her I’ve had more successful relationships. Is that what I did wrong? I only married one abuser? Even my latest Step Father turned out to be a rotted fruit on the tree of life.

I want her safe, I told her if she needs to flee him to come to my home, I could make it work. How? Well I expected I would have a bed, so that my couch could sleep two, then there’s the air mattress that can be duct taped, and a third air mattress that also needs some repair. It’s still something. I cannot use the air mattresses, as I cannot get up off of the floor. I know now my ability to sleep at all thus far has been the exhaustion of months of struggle. I am worn out emotionally, physically and mentally but it is never enough.

My pain is being used as a punishment against me for the actions of others. I regret even needing help. If I could have moved without my mother? I would have. If I could tell her to go to hell and know that someone innocent wouldn’t suffer, I would. I instead must risk poisoning my spirit and heart by contact to protect those that still retain their innocence. Innocence I haven’t had for so long that it ages me.

Taking a picture of the cats sitting on me revealed my pain to a friend, I was hiding it but he can see it in my eyes. I can hide so much from the world, but my pain is overflowing. I try to give it less space, yet gas under pressure explodes and I have been under pressure for a long time. The solution to my bed problem is not simple. The screws were lost. Of course they were. The broken wood must be repaired. That costs money. I don’t have it. Again I come up against a world of need. I have tried to keep everything I own and NEED in one piece. I am falling apart at the seams myself, can’t I just have a single night of rest?

I am complaining again. If I don’t let this out then I won’t be able to stop crying. To breathe is pain. To think is pain. To open my eyes is pain. To move is pain. I am alone today as well. My caregiver thinks she has the swine flu, so until she sees a doctor I am alone. Again the urge to fire her so I can have someone reliable rears it’s head but I know this is an over reaction. One day alone won’t kill me right? Well it may but I have longed for solitude for a long time. There is a difference between alone and lonely.

I am trying to reset my pain, my thoughts and yet with my mother the reset brings out the poison. Have fun in Roswell. I said it. What I felt was instead have fun in Roswell with the lamb, while you betray me again. This is the smallest betrayal of my life and it seems the most painful. My body cannot take anything else but I have to push. I already broke again and again. I don’t think I can push anymore.

All the joy I had at being home and safe, at being able to go outside is gone. How can I go outside if breathing leaves me in tears because the couch dislocates EVERYTHING. How can I sleep if the couch stabs me because it broke and I had to put wood under it, which adds pressure. I am not sure what to do. I think I have to do this myself and it is not possible. I am not strong enough. I just want to reset this move. I want to go back to the start and change the way the bed went. I would lose the trust of my sister but my pain makes me selfish.

That’s what is being said to me when I ask. I am selfish for wanting my bed. I am selfish for asking. I am selfish for needing. I am selfish. I know it’s true. it is selfish for me to expect people to give up their time and spend an hour here to give me what I need. Selfish isn’t bad in this case. It cannot be, when my health is degrading. I am not sure I can ever recover emotionally from this betrayal, I was already weak and vulnerable and past my limit. My mother said it herself. There is no reset.

Thank You is Sometimes All You Can Say.

This feels strange, to write. I am going to go for a crown. It took me a very long time to become aware of my own value, and through the Ms Wheelchair USA program, I can not only show my own skills and confidence but I get to hopefully inspire other women and men to be confidence. I have conversations daily with my friends, sometimes strangers, and every so often in the mirror with myself when my pain has me grasping for strength I am sure I will not find about confidence and value.

I minister aid to those in need. Today I recieved two gifts. One, is the first donation for my campaign towards the Crown, and the other was a bottle of holywater. I will not discuss my religion here, as I do not think that has bearing on who I am or what I am capable of doing, but I see this as a beautiful thing.

The woman who sent me the holy water is one of my strangers. It was just before Christmas and I went with a friend to the bookstore. Meandering we agreed to meet at the coffee shop and I went rolling through the shop. She looked happy, except her eyes. I remember how utterly void of joy they were, and she couldn’t seem to stop staring, so, I struck up a conversation with her about the books on the table. She didn’t take long to open up to me. I remember my utter shock at her telling me she was going to commit suicide. I responded before I thought with, “Why would you want to do a thing like that?” After an h our of conversation we hugged. I rarely hug people because it pains me, but, she needed a hug more than anything else. She told me she wanted to send me a package and after meeting me she couldn’t kill  herself. Our conversation touched on the spiritual, but mostly her need to be someone. She had forgotten herself for years to be a mother to a disabled child, and now her own grand child was disabled and she couldn’t fathom happiness for anyone. Today I recieved a thank you card, and the bottle from a local blessed spring. It reminded me of my power to inspire people. I did not need a reminder to know I am good, but, the reminder that I can touch people by being who I am was a surprise.

I then talked with a male friend of mine who often forgets to love himself. For years he has battled this and tonight I shared with him how I learned to love myself. I started telling myself three times a day in the mirror I love you. That was all I saw myself, when washing my hands. Then, I wrote on my stomach, legs and anywhere that was invisible to others, I love me. I love me. Over and over. It took a long time, then I started to believe it. Mike and I met over something daring, I did something that I might be ashamed of now, online as many others do. The evidence is thankfully washed away by server errors and time. I had made myself do something out of character, to see what would happen. I never went back in my shell. I instead became a real girl. No more hiding, no more sorrow. Shortly after this I broke my back, and had to resume chanting how much I love me. I still do some days, to help myself along when the pain burns me through and I forget that I am more than a disabled chick who can barely walk. When homeless Mike fed me, he even helped pay for Sprite the Service Cat’s vet bills. He is amazing, and, I hope that he remembers that. He reminds me of who I used to be, and even admits when he is wrong. A very rare individual whom I appreciate. He is who I turn to when even my well worn tactics fail, he can always make me smile and is the Brother of My Soul. He is greatness himself, and proved to me, before any other male could, that not all men are evil. Without him, I would still be fighting daily to not feel afraid in this world. Instead I feel love and warmth even in my darkest hours.

Then, I went into my favorite IRC, dedicated to graphic programers who make animal skins for IMVU, a 3D Instant messenger and started talking with a brilliant young woman. Her name, posted with Permission, is Weesha. We talk often, though the last few months before I started this blog that contact was rare due to no internet connection. I told her of my discovery, just before the deadline and without enough time, this year, to dedicate to my new goal of Ms Wheelchair USA. We brainstormed for ways that she can help me to spread the word about MWUSA, to reach my goal, and so that people can learn about my Platform. I haven’t finished fine tuning the platform yet, but tonight she spread the word far enough that the first donation was made by Jen, a person of similar interests, taste, and a person who deserves a very special thank you. My wonderful day started off in tears and has blossomed into a garden of delights.

I just want to say thank you, these people are beyond special. May any who read these words have as dear friends and family as I have. They feed my soul, they nourish my dreams, and wish for the dreams of all to come true. They deserve as much as they give. Each one has their hopes and dreams and this, dear readers, is my hope for them.

For Information on Ms Wheelchair USA please visit their website. There you can learn about the current Crown holder Beryl Holzbach.  I saw some of her youtube videos today and was brought to tears, mourning what is, and hoping that her advocacy brings great strides to the medical field.

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