Yes we are alive, and yes this is our tent, inflatable couch and all.
We have come in to town to check email n things. We are sitting outside the closed public library in the car using their free internet.
We are staying at a beautiful wooded site, on a creek near the mountains. Our first 3 nights have been smooth. We will stay here at least 3 or 4 more nights as we try to get the hang of things.
We are very fortunate to have glamping gear for our newfound homelessness. Even Cricket is enjoying the hell out of it.
I’m happily devouring Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar” and will likely start it over once I’ve finished it. How have I not picked this book up before, it came out it 1963…….where have I been?
I’m gradually becoming friends with the insta pot. We made a green curry that was quite edible and some oatmeal with apples, cranberries and walnuts. I’ve also decided it makes a great place to do the dishes. They come out steamy, just like a dishwasher.
I much prefer the old fashioned method and Jase makes for some great scenery.
Well, that’s it for now, I hope everyone is well! We must get back as Cricket is back at the homestead and is bound to be hosting a kegger with the woodland creatures.
The best part is the bottom of this thing is folded under and the end is all the way up to my waist tightened with a drawstring. All 5 feet 2 inches of me gets swallowed up in a sleeping bag.
Remember the snuggie?
We uncovered the puffy version in Jase’s gear. I promptly made fun of it and then had to take it all back once I put it on. It’s the warmest, coziest sack I’ve ever been embraced by. I will likely live in it.
The last few days have been a roller coaster, I’ve somehow managed to recover my sense of humor.
Jase and I are back on track and moving forward with our plans.
Will update more when I can, just wanted y’all to know I’m still laughing.
I miss reading everyone’s blogs and interacting. Sending you all light, love and snuggie hugs!
P.S. I’m still not best friends with my instant pot.
Cricket the cat is quite frankly the love of my life. My little angel in a cat suit.
She puts the goof in ball.
My life has taken yet another unexpected turn in the last 2 days, one that I don’t feel at liberty to share just yet. It’s painful and ugly and it hurts. It’s ok to be sad and terrified while simultaneously doing what needs doing until moving out in 5 days.
I need to take the next few days off from blogging to clear my head.
I appreciate each and everyone of you for sharing your lives with me. I love the stories you share and it never ceases to amaze me that good people stop and read what I have to say. It’s crazy! Love you guys 🙂
To prepare for living in the woods, I thought a good investment would be an instant pot. They’ve been around for a few years.
I’ve heard and read great things.
Online searches bring up positive feedback and mouthwatering recipes.
My own mind created visions of simple, healthy, low cost, backwoods meals with easy clean up.
My first impression: WHAT THE FUCK DID I GET MYSELF INTO?
The manual is pathetic. Using this thing IS rocket science and the manual is the equivalent of a 1st grade book. There’s nothing in it. It doesn’t even explain what each button is for. I feel like I’m the girl who got her period and no one explained it to me beforehand. I’M LOST.
Looking for answers on the internet is like trying to find real news on Covid-19. Laughable while simultaneously frustrating and confusing.
We had chicken drumsticks and rice in the house. I figured why not give it a whirl. Below is an online picture next to a picture of reality.
Although it looked unappetizing it tasted decent. I was impressed with the rice. It did have a better consistency than that of a rice cooker.
What no one tells you is it takes the instant pot time to warm up and build the pressure it needs to quickly cook the food. So a recipe that boasts of a cook time of 5 to 10 minutes is more like 20 minutes.
Now for the best part. We had a box of pancake mix in the house and I found a recipe for a giant instant pot pancake.
How hard could that be? See pictures below. Online and reality
This fucker was a bitch to make.
I followed the instructions to a T. Once the instant pot got going it started beeping and flashing a “burn food” warning.
It took an hour. Yes an hour to make this pathetic pale pancake and there is an inch of it burnt to the bottom of the pan.
Jase, the optimist that he is, ate it enthusiastically with a stick of butter and container of syrup.
If you weren’t worried about us moving into the woods before, you should be now. We are likely to starve out there.
There are plenty of instant pot cookbooks, but I’m not a fan.
I find cookbooks to be full of things I’d never eat, like tomato wheatberry soup, and by the time you purchase all the ingredients you’ve spent a weeks worth of grocery money on one recipe.
I prefer things basic.
I’m not giving up.
I will love the instant pot and the insanity it rode in on.
The 1977 hit from Ram Jam kept looping in my head during my excursion.
I got what I needed and made a quick exit. Tampons and earplugs. I tried to joke with the elderly gent at the register the earplugs were for my boyfriend. He was hard of hearing so the joke fell flat like a brick.
Anyhoo, it was a beautiful day so I found a place to stroll in the sun and talk to Archie and then a bestie of mine. My anxiety calmed and it felt good to be out.
The thing that touched my heart the most, is my bestie shared that she called a suicide helpline to find out the best way to talk with me after my overdose. She didn’t want to say anything that would come across as hurtful.
What a beautiful act of kindness. How caring and thoughtful.
We were both disturbed at the fact she was on hold for 25 minutes. She said if she were suicidal she would have been dead. The man on the line explained that with covid they are unable to keep up. What an unfortunate reality.
My anxiety is high again today. I can’t stop shaking and my heart is pounding. I suppose it’s time to stop procrastinating and start packing.
I’m also working on an insta pot menu as our plan is too keep our grocery bill to $50 a week while we tent it.
Thank you to everyone on here for reading my ramblings. Hope you are all well, I appreciate you.
I have to leave the house today for tampons. I ordered a diva cup and it hasn’t arrived yet.
Not familiar with the diva cup? It’s a flexible cup you stick in your cooch when you’re menstruating. I was hoping to have it now so I wouldn’t have to get acquainted with it out in the backcountry. Dreams do not always come true.
The magnet above, holding Archie’s artwork in place, is from my older sister. It pretty much sums up how I feel about leaving the house today.
I know it will be good to get out, but my anxiety is off the charts. I woke up with a pounding chest, shaky limbs and the feeling of my blood racing.
Pisses me off to wake up like that. It makes it feel out of my control. I literally open my eyes and Whoop there it is. No warning, no time to prepare. Just a slap in the face.
I did finally get a call through to mental health partners. Service is patchy at our house and the service gods were shining down on me today.
I have a 2 hour phone call scheduled for Monday. I will have to sit in a parking lot somewhere.
It will be good practice for future appointments since we will be on the road campsite jumping. BLM lands let you stay in one spot for 14 days and then you have to pack up and move at least 20 miles.
I’m grateful we have such nice gear, who knew we were making such an investment. It’s sad that if our gear didn’t make us appear “wealthy” we would get picked on by the rangers. We’ve heard horror stories of people getting fucked with.
They still might pick on us seeing as our Yeti cooler is bright salmon colored….borderline hot pink
Such is the society we live in. Gotta look good on the outside.
Cluster~fuck: a complex, and utterly disordered and mismanaged situation: a muddled mess.
Ashley’s post on how to spot fake health news got me in the cluster~fuck mood. Here in the states you’re better off not reading the news at all.
About anything. EVER.
I received this video below in my e-mail and had to share. It about sums it up. Hopefully it will work. It’s from FB and I don’t have a FB account.
I needed a break from packing and organizing, also a cluster~fuck. But I did come across my teeth whitening trays so at least I’m multitasking. My teeth were looking a little dingy. Now they will be white enough to blind the grizzly bears while I’m screaming for my life. Meh, who needs bear spray?
There’s a lot to consider when moving into a tent. Like changing our address.
5506 Tent Life Boulevard, Bumblefuck U.S.A
I’ve changed my address 5 times in the past 4 years. I’ve been a nomad in the making all along. At least the bill collectors won’t be able to find me.
Sometimes when you’re cleaning the house and you find a disturbing wad of hair. the only thing to make it less disturbing is to stick a pair of googly eyes on it.
On a more sane note, we’ve been busy beavers making sure our gear is up to snuff since we’re going to be living the tent life soon.
Boring, but essential things, like our small generator, battery pack and toilet. I even tested the breakdownability (not a word, I know) of our current toilet paper in a container of water and shook it around. Not quite as disturbing as the googly eyed hair wad.
I’m more interested in the air mattress, Moroccan style bedding, inflatable couch and string lights. The glamping stuff that has nothing to do with survival but everything to do with comfort.
Cricket the cat has been enjoying chasing mice INTO the house because her ass~hat humans left the door open. Then she stays up all night chasing them and knocking shit over.
This morning she brought this little bird inside. Cricket is apparently making sure her “gear”: claws and fangs are in proper working order.
Our landlord said we could stay, but he wants full rent, and is not accepting the relief from the mortgage company. His OCD won’t allow him to get off schedule. I can respect that. After all, I did just try to kill myself in his house a few weeks ago, we’ve all got our issues. Best of luck to him finding new renters.
Jase and I are not squatters and have no interest in going through the eviction process. That just sounds awkward and stressful. It’s an experience I don’t need in my life. Since Jase and I already have a lot of outdoor gear, why not put it to the test and live in it.
Currently neither of us is working. Out of all the families I cleaned for 1 has still been paying me weekly. I insisted she stop as I don’t know if I will return to clean and what our situation will turn into. She is stubborn like me and keeps sending me money. I am collecting unemployment from the part time job I also had. We figure, why spend money on rent. Let’s save what we have and use our gear.
Side note: My body has been pain free since the ketamine infusions. It was also the time I stopped cleaning homes, because of the pandemic. I have no desire to go back to cleaning as I’m not interested in finding out if it was the ketamine, not working or both that got my body back into alignment.
I’d rather be a homeless glamper than go back to chronic pain and fatigue.
We plan to use our time away from modern life to clear our heads and decide what direction to go in. There is a laundry list of things I disagree with when it comes to society, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I never come back fully. I’ve always felt like an outsider, I’m excited for these changes and to see what’s around the corner.
With so much to figure out and do, I may not be on blogland as much, but look forward to making updates on our progress.
Mental health side note: My doc prescribed me an anti-anxiety med while we work on getting a psychiatric evaluation. I have 2 different clinics I can reach out to for help.
I’m not overly thrilled about being alive but don’t feel like I’m a danger to myself, so that’s progress.
I’ve only had one glass of champagne since I overdosed, also progress.
Seeing as I’ve always been an outdoorsy person, I do feel this adventure will iron out some wrinkles in my head.
That feeling you have so much to say it feels like pressure in your chest.
You have to write, need to write, it’s a gnawing nag that won’t let up, it feels necessary to your existence.
You don’t know where to start or even what it is that needs to be said.
Your brain feels deadened by depression, your body revved by anxiety mixed with panic. You want to hibernate in your cave yet you must get out and walk to alleviate the toxic mixture of sensations, thoughts and moods.
So you write it out, you untie the knots with your words. String them together until your being finds the balance it needs to go about the day. You take it 10 minutes at a time and don’t berate yourself, don’t compare yourself to others or to your past self who you naively believed to be tougher than this, stronger than this.
You face the feelings of vulnerability and nakedness as you read over past blog posts. The embarrassment hot on your cheeks. The admittance of imperfection. The uncovering of how deep you’ve been choked by countless intrusive thoughts. Sticky, negative thinking patterns, ignored by going through the motions of living.
You see the pattern woven into the years you’ve walked upon this earth. Presenting yourself as balanced, good natured, sane and put together. Under the façade the lava runs hot bubbling through the cracks. Widening the cracks until you eventually break wide open into a volcanic episode that screams “I’ve been dying this whole time and I can’t contain it another second.”
I’m not ok, and that’s ok.
You put it out there, not for your sake, but for the sake of others. Countless souls walking about too afraid to speak up, to embarrassed to admit their pain, too conditioned by an unaccepting society, buried under the weight of the stigma. A society that buys into shining up their exteriors into looking like the perfect package, too afraid to be authentic. Fooling themselves and others with falsehoods of achievement and success.
Hoping that if you speak up, if you share the rawness that you carry, it may help even one soul. That by exposing the deepest parts of yourself, you’ll give others permission to do the same. Even if they don’t speak up, maybe it will ignite a hope and a knowing that they are not alone, and maybe that will be enough to keep them going.
My worksheet from this morning. Am I 5? I suppose a 5 year old would have worded it differently. Why did my immature scribble feel so good?
I woke up angry, depressed and overwhelmed. My “hot thought” being “I hate life.”
Some day’s I feel like a preschooler. Throwing unintellectual tantrums in my head. A philosophical dead zone.
When Jase woke up he brought me down a few notches and had me write out a list of things I enjoy.
Then, I got on a rant about seeing the quote “The quality of your life is in the quality of your habits” and the white hot anger came spewing out of me on how I viewed it………………
He said “Honey, this time has taken you, you have not taken it. This time has chosen you to work on your mental health. It is the most productive thing you could be doing right now. Wouldn’t the world be a much more peaceful place if we would stop commenting on other peoples lives and just focus on living our own? Does it really matter who’s doing what with the time they have?”
Living on the sidelines, clinging to ideas and systems that promise to “fix” you.
Holding tightly to a regimen you believe will make you normal, dare you think perfect………..
Spending your life trying every new method that crosses your path, all the while your own thoughts, emotions and traumas pile up, suffering neglect underneath the years of clinging yet never experiencing.
Eventually the smoke clears.
You see the carnage surrounding you. The years of telling yourself to try harder. Don’t give up. You’re going to find your “home”, you just haven’t worked hard enough.
It’s painful to see, yet simultaneously the most beautiful sight your soul has ever beheld.
It can not, will not, be covered up by Christianity, meditation, manifestation, new age spirituality, endless workouts, perfect nutrition, pod casts, spiritual audio books, moving across the country, changing jobs, endless new hobbies…….
Such valiant effort is to be applauded.
Eventually you fall to the ground. A puddle of sweat and elbow grease.
It’s time to face the beliefs about yourself you’ve carried in a burlap sack since childhood. The years have been hard on you and have added weight to the mental load you carry.
Oh my dear, how you’ve clung, held on tightly to ideas, spiritual beliefs, practices and lifestyles.
Through it all you never experienced yourself.
It’s time to meet the being that is you and I assure you she is beautiful beyond measure.
Scratching, clawing, gripping at the sand of life.
It slips through our fingers, bringing with it lost moments of joy overshadowed by our worry of the future and perceived pain of the past.
We stand in the center of our lives feeling empty and lost. Surrounded by piles of sand that we can do nothing with.
Ahhh, the timeline of each persons life. There’s rich history in the lines of each persons face. Their hands. The limp in their gait. The hunch of their shoulders.
We walk among fellow humans we know nothing about. Pumping gas no one would look at me and think, “that woman overdosed on pills a few days ago and is sorely depressed.”
No, we pull into the gas station and think “Mother fucker, couldn’t they have pulled up an inch further, I can barely get my car in here.”
I’ve failed many times to see the humanness of others. I put my blinders on. All I see are obstacles in the way of what I HAVE to get done. Get out of my way, get your shit together so my shit doesn’t fall apart.
The only guarantee we have is change. It’s the only promise out there.
Perfect example. My 4 kids 15 years ago. Gunner the dog has been dead for over 6 years now. The blanket “Mr. Smelly” being held by my youngest is now a beloved, gray, crusty thread in a zip lock bag among my belongings. My daughter has become my son and who the hell knows what family is inhabiting the house in Illinois we built from scratch.
We all have a timeline. The promise is that we never know how long we have.
I got a souvenir for my failed attempt at offing myself a few days ago.
This is not a post for sympathy, pity, “feel better”, “I’m so sorry” or judgement of any kind etc….etc….words fall flat when you’d rather be dead.
Suicide is a real thing. It’s a monster that hides in unseen cracks and pounces when you’re not looking. It puts you in handcuffs and controls your actions. Actions without feeling.
No one saw it coming, I didn’t see it coming.
Yes, dead……..and if you’ve never felt the yearning for that final peace, consider yourself lucky. If you’ve never felt hopeless to the point of seeing only blackness, consider yourself lucky. If life has never felt so heavy that your tired body can no longer carry it, consider yourself lucky. If you have felt these things I see you, I understand you…………..
Something snapped in my brain. Broke into a million shards of self hatred, discontent, unanswered questions, an ocean of shame that is no longer swimmable.
I was on a walk, came home and……….
I slammed a handful of klonopin, a handful of sonata, and an entire bottle of muscle relaxers. Downed them all with a glass of wine.
I sent my 4 kids a text letting them know I love them more than life and I will forever be sorry for the may times I’ve hurt and disappointed them. They are my world.
The next thing I remember is waking up in a weird place with magenta scrubs on. My first sentence “Where the FUCK are my underwear. Which one of you assholes took my underwear off?”(being a rape victim your undies are your most prized possession in life)
Then a squad of police officers put me in a van. The driver was a woman and was listening to heavy metal music. If I had the energy I would have pounded on the glass and screamed “Bitch! I just tried to kill myself, enough with the death metal you stupid cunt.”
Once at the mental health facility I had to completely undress in front of 3 nurses so they could check me for bruises. It was humiliating and I told them to just let me fucking get dressed.
They put me in a room with nothing on the walls, 2 plastic beds (think crib mattress) 1 pillow and a chair. The blankets on the bed were thinner than my favorite threadbare t-shirt. I cranked the heater up to 90.
The first doctor came in. She began her spiel that was clearly scripted. You know the one she says to every new patient. I said “Have you ever slept on one of these shitty beds?”
Her face went blank. “um no, I haven’t”
“Well, it should be a requirement for all the staff to sleep in one for at least a night. We are people here, not animals that can sleep on anything. And by the way I’m done listening to your scripted spiel, kindly get the fuck out of my room. This place is depressing and disgusting and I can’t believe you think you can actually help someone who’s hurting by putting them in a prison cell.”
“Um, we’ve been told this is a very nice facility.”
“Well it’s not, now get out of my disgusting room”
I was there 2 days. Refused food, refused meds and refused vitamins. At one point I tried to escape.
They let me go because I’m on Medicaid, government cheese. I lied to all their questions and said I was fine because people on Medicaid are treated differently than those with higher paying insurance.
Our landlord is pissed that I’ve been “exposed” to the coronavirus. He wants us out by the 1st because I’m now a liability. He doesn’t want to be responsible for a dead body. All the neighbors know and god forbid he’s embarrassed I’m here.
The terrible truth is that I’m pissed someone found me too soon. Life gives me an exhaustion to heavy to bear. There are too many problems to fix and I can’t see a way out of them.
I don’t care if you think suicide is selfish. It’s not. It’s an answer for problems that are too big. It’s rest. Maybe you think I’m a whiny ungrateful bitch, so be it.
I began the day with the insane idea of hiking up to my favorite spot near our house and painting an outdoorsy mural on a rock formation.
The above photo is what I ended up with.
As I was skipping out the door with my backpack full of supplies and Cricket the cat sauntering along, I found myself in a conversation about how it’s against the law to do such a thing in a national forest and some of the neighbors might not be pleased.
We rent the house we live in.
I said “I appreciate you letting me know, wouldn’t want to piss anyone off.”
The little me felt reprimanded, and as I continued to my destination my body felt like jello, my heart was pounding, my breathing shallow. I was choking back tears and had to fight the urge to abort mission and retreat back into the house.
My brain was flooded with black and white catastrophic thinking.
Long story short, once I got to my spot, it took me 45 minutes to work up the courage to “paint anyway.” To remind myself I could find a small rock to paint and bring it back with me once it was dry.
Go figure, I had failed to pack some of my favorite colors and ended up with that easter egg looking thing. My mural would have sucked anyways.
I’m proud of myself for looking anxiety and fear in the face, calming down and coming up with a new plan. I still feel the sting of disappointment as I had grand ideas of creating my own little nook on the mountain. A safe haven of artwork that I could keep adding to.
Maybe living in a tent in the far reaches of the wilderness isn’t a bad idea after all…………I am a black and white thinking goddess, oh yes I am….
Once back at home I chose to read an article “How to survive being scolded” which proved helpful. Later I dusted off my 2 anxiety workbooks, (should have gotten those out days ago) also very helpful. Then I popped in my headphones and hiked for an hour.
After all that my 5 year old self was still lurking around. I fed her a bowl of lucky charms with unsweetened almond milk so she wouldn’t ask for seconds.
I tell the nervousness and fear rolling around in my gut to fuck off. They don’t listen. Those unruly bastards. Toddler twins, destroying my digestive tract.
So I paint cats.
My inner artsy fartsy is swimming to the surface. I buried her deep within when I was younger. Buried her in the recesses of low self worth and other victim mentality jargon. Key word: “I”……..no one made me do it, I submitted to stuffing down my authenticity.
Anxiety is also rearing her head, begging for attention, so I take the time to observe her. There are things that need to be seen.
I take her on walks, dragging her behind me on a chain. She bumps along in the gravel until I accept her as part of myself. In that instant the chain dissolves and she becomes my twin, walking next to me, no longer a disfigured creature being dragged through the mud.
In this time of slowing down, she’s showing me I have a deep rooted fear of people. I’ve kept it somewhat at bay by staying busy for much of my life. I have a raging case of social anxiety that I’ve kept hidden behind the masks of life. (Mom, workout fanatic, born again Christian, nutrition guru, store clerk, office manager, new age spirituality mountain hippy chick, housekeeper, fibromyalgia, depression, insomnia, divorced woman supporting herself for the first time, introvert, backpacker, soon to be homeless person etc)
If I’m wearing a mask, I don’t have to engage as myself. I put on different personas depending on the task at hand, living my life as a script. Allowing myself to be pulled apart in a million scripted directions.
Underneath it all we are just people.
The authentic me is working on crawling out of the cave I’ve stuffed her into. The light can be blinding after being in the dark for so many years. She’s been out a few time,s but retreats when the demands of life push her back inside.
It’s uncomfortable to look at ourselves but it’s the most important work we will ever do. Having life’s rug pulled out from under you is one way to go about it.
For today, I’m going to live life with out a script. I’m going to eat processed food, drink a glass of wine, go for a few walks, get lost in my own thoughts, spend too much time on my computer, I’m not going to meditate or read anything spiritual, I’m not going to take any vitamins, I’m going to pace around like a caged animal and give my companions Anxiety and fear proper names. Fred and Louise. I’m not going to feel guilty about any of it.
Guilt is a shit filled sewer. The stinky possibilities are endless.
I become drained from socializing. It doesn’t matter who the person or people are. The only way I can recharge is by being alone, getting lost in my thoughts, doing something creative etc. I have to desensitize.
In a world of misconceptions about introversion, I fell head first into an “introvert hangover”. We’ve had Jases’s girls here for almost 3 weeks. I love them to pieces, they are wonderful and fun, but I was underprepared.
Here are the signs of an introvert hangover. I’m experiencing ALL of them, and I thought it was my hormones, BUT, that time has passed and I’m still a lunatic:
Everything is getting on your nerves
You’re struggling to make decisions
You can’t think clearly
Your speech changes
You feel physically unwell
You’re zoning out
You feel anxious
You feel depressed
You’re not acting like your normal self
You can’t do polite chitchat anymore
You have an intense desire to be alone
I came across Introvert Dear and am binge reading the articles. Nothing compares to feeling understood and being able to explain to your loved ones why you’re acting like some one took a tweezer to your short and curly’s.
Triggers come in all shapes and sizes. I can’t pinpoint the trigger this time.
Maybe it’s feeling a loss of control.
We can say we have control of ourselves until we’re blue in the face. It may be true to some extent………….and then there’s
When the old wounds of trauma are triggered, all bets are off.
Taming the effects of trauma takes work, and once you’ve been triggered, all the lessons fly right out the gaping hole that’s been ripped open.
We grasp frantically at the tactics that have worked in the past only to find we’re too far gone. Fallen so deeply into the pit.
Alas, does this mean there’s more to heal, more layers to be pulled back. The dark holds lessons we missed the last time we were triggered. Will we ever heal completely?
Distraction. Distraction. Distraction…………….Paint, read, paint, walk, write, stare at the wall, scroll Instagram, hide in your room, pop a valium, pour some wine………………peel yourself back like a sardine can……look at the content stuffed inside……cramped into a small space…..you never asked for the contents in the fucking can……….
Go though the motions. Go through them again. Meditate. Meditate again.
Accept the fact you’ve been triggered. Stop trying to fight it. Stop feeling guilty for being human. Being vulnerable. Stop apologizing for the fact you haven’t fucking arrived yet. You’re not as strong as you pretend to be.
Mary Lambert is a beautiful, bad ass woman. I adore all of her albums.
We snagged Cricket from a shelter when she was 7 months old.
Jase, the so called “cat hater”, arrived at the shelter before I did. With in 5 minutes of his arrival my phone rang.
Him: “Hey honey, I think I found our cat. She’s meowing and pawing at me through the bars of her cage.”
Me: “Yeah, ok, cat hater, I’m almost there, cool your jets.”
Sure as shit, he was right. Cricket chose us.
I’ve always had a knack for finding dog like cats, and months prior to this had been envisioning an indoor/outdoor adventure kitty, all the while assuring Jase it was possible.
The picture above is the backpack we would take Cricket out in. We brought her hiking, we took her to the grocery store, we took that cat everywhere.
Then we introduced her to a harness and leash.
I took her out every day.
Now she hikes with out a leash. She goes outside daily and comes when we call her. Or she’ll meow and paw at the door just like a dog.
Funny thing is, she won’t go to the bathroom outside, she comes back to use her litter box. We use Dr. Elsey’s cat attract litter and holy shit, it’s no joke. They guarantee your cat will go in it’s box with out fail. There are few guarantees in this life, but this one is legit.
It goes without saying pets are family. They worm their way into our hearts and help those of us who struggle with mental illness. Little angels in disguise.
Happy Birthday Little One! Here’s to believing we have another 20 plus years with you.
Came across an excellent blog a few days ago. “The Boy Behind the Door” The link will to take you to the first post and then each post is in chronological order.
It’s a true story about the life of an adopted Native American written by his lovely daughter. It’s an amazing read that will put you on the edge of your seat. I highly recommend it. Emma is a skilled writer and is sure to pull your heart strings and remind you how great the human spirit is.
I got through my “self care” list yesterday and even took 2 walks. One with Jase and one with cricket. The pic below is Cricket being in trouble for rolling in deer shit.
Here’s a video of our current back yard. This is our best rental home so far! Hoping we don’t have to leave since money has become an endangered species.
It’s Cricket right before she rolled in poop.
Hope you are all well. As always thank you for reading and for being a part of the blogosphere!
She’s quite a character. Notice in the video I was painting a cat.
I’ve had a sore throat for days and I feel like someone ran me over, put the truck in reverse and did a doughnut over my flattened body. Could be an Epstein Barr flare, the virus that keeps on giving. I certainly don’t need the coronavirus on top of EBV.
The day before yesterday, Jase and I took our daily hike with Cricket and it felt like I had cinderblocks strapped to my limbs.
I don’t feel intense body pain, so thankful for that. I spoke to my ketamine doctor over the phone. She said since I did so well, they would like to maintain my results with a once a month infusion after the coronavirus blows over.
On top of being hormonal, feeling physically ill is triggering some depressed feelings. I’m not worried about anything, but it’s pulled my “corona routine” out from under me. I currently feel numb. Flatlined.
I know I need to honor the fact my body needs rest. I also know my sanity needs routine and some sort of plan. No one is going to make a suitable plan but me. I must stick to what I know, regardless of how dead I currently feel.
#1 Make a blog post, it’s been 3 days since my last
#2 Shower. I get points for the fact I’ve changed my underwear and put on fresh jammies. It’s now time for the pits, tits and ass rinse. My hair (it tickles my ass crack when I pee) truly needs some attention. There’s a dreadlock forming that will require a half gallon of conditioner.
#3 Meditate and journal. I know that I know that I know these practices are essential to my mental health.
#4 Paint some rocks. My new addiction. This I have been doing daily for the past week. It brings me calm. My 2 oldest boys are camping in the backcountry. They put their painted rocks outside their tents. Well, if that doesn’t put a lump in my throat, freakin kids making me cry. I made them similar rocks so there would be no fighting. They are 25 and 23 hahah 🙂
#5 Get outside. Even if I don’t have the energy to walk, fresh air is the best vitamin for me.
#6 Stick to proper meal times. It doesn’t matter if all I can stomach is crackers and tea. Keep a schedule Mare.
#7 Speak up when your mind starts looping. I am a skilled magician when it comes to the disappearing act, folding within myself and glazing over like a zombie. Last time I checked, Jase is a skilled listener and generous with hugs and affection. His exact words “Use me baby!”
#8 Take a nap.
You get the idea. Basic self care.
Why is it always the first to go when I feel like shit?
Industrial toilet paper ordered from Office Max. They lay on the bathroom floor. Just pull in an upward motion, tear, and wipe.
We are trying to keep our sense of humor intact while simultaneously feeling a host of other emotions.
Jase’s girls are in from Pennsylvania as we rent a home that is in the middle of nowhere and it feels safer, giving us all the opportunity to be outside. Our landlord who lives in Ohio has a 4 wheeler here that he lets us use.
We are keeping a loosely knit schedule, involving painting, being outside, naps, reading, movies and walks with Cricket the cat.
Yesterday on our stroll Cricket heard some dogs barking and refused to keep going. Jase picked her up and put the nape of her neck in his teeth like a mama cat. She went limp and became cooperative until we passed the perceived danger.
While playing a game of hide and seek outdoors, Cricket dutifully gave away my hiding spot. Sneaky cat.
Each time I catch myself thinking the worst case scenario about the future, I remind myself I am safe in this moment. We have rent for the following month and food in the kitchen.
Next month will have enough trouble of it’s own as Jase is not working and I’m barely working. This has become the life of so many families across the globe.
Thank you all for reading and commenting, this community is truly special. Jase and I are grateful to be a part of it.
Keep writing, laugh at anything you can, and be well.
Doesn’t help that I cleaned someone’s home yesterday and over polished their copper sinks. They look like shiny new pennies and the home owners seemed pissed. I can’t stop thinking about it. They are literally being blinded by their sinks every time they brush their teeth. I need to put an end to cleaning million dollar homes……..I can’t handle the stress of fucking up.
Sounds so petty with all that’s going on in the world.
I tried a glass of wine last night. My first since Ketamine. It made things worse. I’m kind of glad as it will keep me from going back to 2 drinks a night.
Gotta ride out the storm and deal with my crazy. This too shall pass.
I came across a poem I wrote last January when I was in the throes of a deep depression.
I was suicidal for a good 3 months. The darkness was so thick it made everything black. Looking back at these words, I can see there was a distant hope that I couldn’t feel at the time:
“Peaceful corner ~ My fragility in an envelope of down.
Piano music ~ a remembrance that I live ~ a distant depth ~ I am not the blackness
I am every color ~ every emotion ~every language ~ humanness ~ Spirit connected
Depression is stillness ~ Stillness is beauty ~ stillness bears hope ~ rounding the corner ~ the fog will dissipate ~ a first breath ~ cells creeping from their coma ~ hang on Mare for nothing can last forever“
I honestly don’t know what lifted it. I remember thinking “Who will take care of the cat if I kill myself?” Little 4 legged friend who found us just 2 months prior to the depression.
I can remember being depressed as a teenager.
I remember downing an entire bottle of aspirin. I didn’t know how to ask for help.
Last winter I knew to ask for help. To share what I was going though. There were some who avoided me like a disease, others who shared their own experiences, and some who gave me blank stares.
Depression is real. Just because you aren’t feeling it at the present moment does not mean it itsn’t. Maybe you’re one of the few who’ve never felt it, I urge you to be compassionate and understanding.
I’ll leave you with a few lines from Gary Zukav’s “The Seat of the Soul” as I find these words both beautiful and wise:
“Who among us is an expert on the human experience? We have only the gift of sharing perceptions that hopefully can help those on their journey. There is no such thing as an expert on the human experience. The human experience is an experience in movement and thought and form, and in some cases an experiment in movement and thought and form. The most that we can do is comment on the movement, the thought and the form, but those comments are of great value if they can help people to learn to move gracefully, to think clearly, to form – like artists- the matter of their lives.
Eileen is an energy healer, and her blog is like reading a novel you don’t want to put down. Head to her homepage and read her fascinating story on how she became a healer.
Jase’s girls are here while their school is closed and this has been the perfect activity for us. We don’t notice the hours go by. The other night we painted through the dinner hour. That will certainly keep us from running out of food, hahaha!
Yesterday was a bit rough as my youngest son celebrated his 16th birthday in Illinois. It’s a challenge to not feel like a shit mother, him living so far away. The dialogue in my brain is murderous.
I used to make him loaves of the best banana bread on his bday. He sent a text asking for the recipe. His dad’s girlfriend had made some, and in my son’s exact words “it’s drier than the desert.”
Breaks my heart into a million pieces and punches a hole in my gut that will never be filled. 16 years old and he still wants mom’s banana bread. Did he have to make it himself after I sent the recipe?
Life can throw us a few unforeseen punches, can it not? I chose to leave the Midwest after getting divorced. I’ve asked many times if I should move back and every time my son’s reply “No mom, coming to visit gives me something to look forward too.”
Long story short, I couldn’t afford to bring him with me and his dad would never allow it.
So, in the midst of the pain, gratitude cuddles up next to it. Thankful we have maintained a relationship. Thankful to be close to all 4 of my boys although I’m no longer with their father.
Have you ever taken time to just think? It can be hard to do with so much on our plate. Even if you aren’t doing anything, you just feel to busy. As a moody teenager, it always feels hard to so, but sometimes I like to just lay down, relax, and think. When you take time to think you may realize, have I made the best decisions? Have I been doing what I should be? How long has it been since i last had fun? Have I done the stuff on my bucket list yet? As the everyday person, we never want to push our limits, never want to step out of our box, never want to stop. Maybe it’s time to change that?
Here is what I want you to do, try something that relaxes you. Sometimes we may not know what relaxes us and if that’s the case then maybe you shloud try and find out. Today I got paint rocks with my dad, my sister, and Mare. I sat there for 3 hours letting my imagination run wild (but still calm of course). Maybe you like sports or drawing, whatever the case though, make some time to do that. To enjoy and relax yourself!
It’s been 4 days since my last Ketamine infusion and I’m noticing some delightful things.
I’m sitting here in jeans and a flannel.
This is a big WTF moment.
My WHOLE life, when at home, it’s pj’s all day, no exceptions, sick or not. I used to think people were nuts being at home in everyday street clothes. Jase has known me just shy of 4 years and he can testify to the many times I would look at him and feel scratchy because he was on the couch in jeans.
Today, I was dying to get out of my cozies and into clothing. I also put on some jewelry and braided my hair.
Another thing is I haven’t drank any alcohol.
I had 4 infusions and was tripping balls for 4 days straight, no alcohol needed.
Post ketamine, I don’t want any. Many WTF moments. I’m not a huge drinker but was having at least 2 drinks per night………and maybe a weeee bit more on Sunday’s…….mimosas!
I feel motivated and energetic. I have walked a mile outside each day since the infusions. 2 of those walks were pain free! The other 2 not so much, but that’s ok.
With the nature of my jobs I get about 25 to 35 hours a WEEK of light to moderate to intense exercise. I think the base recommendation is 3.5 hours a week……anyhoo I’m happy to be feeling like doing something other than nursing my wounds during my down time.
My brain can’t pick up it’s old thinking patterns. It doesn’t feel like ruminating on anything. Having cleaned a home yesterday, my body is feeling some discomfort but my mind is saying “who the fuck cares! Life is too short to think about it.”
I’ll meet with the CBT therapist this week if the beer virus doesn’t cancel the appointment. I’m looking forward to picking his brain about ways to keep my own brain headed in this direction.
There’s a lightness to my thinking. I’m not sure if my mind has ever felt this relaxed.
Everyone responds differently to ketamine. So far I’m enjoying the ride.
If you’re like Jase and I, you aren’t hoarding paper products and wipes.
If you are hoarding them, shame on you. We currently have 4 rolls of toilet paper and 1 roll of paper towels in our home.
We went to do our NORMAL grocery shopping and there’s no fucking toilet paper. Not even on line.
I’m generally a pretty laid back and forgiving gal: but there are people hoarding toilet paper and selling it online for ridiculous prices. That’s shitty, which is what my underwear will be because someone’s trying to make a quick buck off human suffering.
Well, I can think outside of the box and still try to help the economy instead of rob my fellow man.
Yep, I bought ass wipes for pets and you can too because people we live on this earth with forgot how to share. I assure you the dogs and cats of this world will not mind a shortage in wipes, they have perfectly good tongues.
We went with the Pogi’s plant based wipes. They are listed as “grooming wipes”. For those of you feeling crass there are Glandex anal gland pet wipes and are a bit more expensive.
Have fun searching online, there are plenty of brands! If not for the coronavirus and the selfishness of others we’d never know such a product existed. Thank you coronavirus.
I slipped and fell on my way to the car at 6 am yesterday.
It had been raining and the deck looked wet. It was pure ice and I went down hard on my right side. It’s laughable really. Headed to Ketamine to treat pain. All one can do is laugh.
With traffic we drove close to 2 hours to the clinic that had hijacked my infusion. They are affiliated with my original clinic. Lo and behold they are in the middle of a move as well.
Miss cranky pants with the yellow aura from my second infusion was there. I could feel her embarrassment when she saw us and I didn’t want it to turn into hardness. At the end of this infusion as I was coming out of it I was determined to speak with her. With my numb face I called to her: Jeminifer….ib yer nabe jeminifer? She came and spoke with us for a long while and she’s quite lovely. I told her about her aura, yellow is joyful and intelligent and felt relieved to look her in the eye and exchange a genuine smile. We found out she has 5 children…….well fuck, no wonder she was in a shit mood the other day.
I had a new doctor. His aura was gray and murky but not scary. I could feel his overwhelming confusion toward life. The gal at the front desk was brimming with pure white light and was a delight.
And my Jase was purple. He’s not a fan of the color purple. Well too fucking bad, purple suits him quite well.
So that’s that. I had 4 infusions this week increasing from 200 mg to 400 mg. And now I wait. They say it can take a couple weeks to see the full effect.
I’m pleased that the primary emotion I felt all week was overwhelming love for myself and for others.
Outwardly life as I know it has not changed, inwardly I know it has.
I’ll leave you with this:
“Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.” — Zen Kōan
If you’re new to this journey, today is the 4th Ketamine infusion for pain relief. Welcome to the ride!
Today we are driving an hour and a half as my infusion was sent to the wrong clinic. I am listening to the above song to calm my nerves and open my heart. I am anxious about being in a new space with staff that I don’t know.
Akaal Literal meaning is a timeless being, intelligent and caring
I can’t help but wonder if they’ve been warned about Jase and I! Have they been filled in on my constant talking and laughing while under Ketamine? Are they ready for the outpouring of love headed to their clinic?
That being said I am energetic and excited.
I TOOK A PAIN FREE WALK OUTSIDE YESTERDAY!!!!! MY LEGS WERE WOBBLY BUT MY MIND WANTED TO RUN. RUN……RUN….RUN….I FELT LIGHT AND FREE….THE WORLD SEEMED NEW AND FRESH.
Hope you all have an enlightened day…….I’m off to the land of love and laughter and hopefully no vomit.
I’m a wee bit disappointed. I’m supposed to be at my 4th ketamine treatment right now. Somehow lines got crossed and they sent my ketamine to the wrong clinic. It’s against the law to transfer it once delivered. We are waiting to hear what to do and where to go.
The long and short of it is the clinic is in the middle of a move. They’ve been in their current location for 6 months and they are a bit of a cluster fuck. Having gone there 3 days in a row, peeled back the layers of just how dis organized they are.
We got there at 7:40 as asked and my infusion didn’t begin until 8:15. They were unpacking boxes and rewiring the front desk computers. There were 2 new people and one was in a foul ass mood, which triggered my anxiety. Jase had to step outside to calm his frustration and I sat in the waiting room meditating on opening my heart space and not hyperventilating.
We were then told another patient would be having a treatment in the same room as me. Considering how much I talked during my first 2 infusions this worried me.
I have veins like Boba tea straws so they hooked me up first, and during the insertion, the woman in the foul mood stuck her head in and stated “This is the last ketamine infusion this week. They sent it all to the Aurora clinic and we don’t know when the next shipment will be.”
Well, that is poor bedside manner.
As I was slipping into la la land, they were hooking up my suite mate and her veins kept collapsing.
In the meantime I’m telling everyone what color aura they have. My doctors was light pink, crabby lady was yellow, the gals at the front desk were bright blue and light blue, I just wanted everyone to have a good day and to just be nice.
I then proceeded to talk about how much I love the world and if everyone would just be kind it would solve all the problems. To top it off I began to sob for the world, I was so sad for it. Jase was able to calm me down by telling me the world was ok and then I passed out for the remainder of the treatment.
Once at home I ate an entire box of mac and cheese and passed out. I woke up and watched the Taylor Swift documentary…..what????? I know maybe 2 of her songs……and then passed out again until morning.
It’s been a wild week thus far. It’s nice to know I love the world and all of it’s inhabitants. If Jase had any doubts about my love for him they have dissolved into trauma over how much I actually do love him. He’s probably scared shitless and ready to run for the hills……….
All I know about yesterday is I didn’t get sick. There was no vomit. I listened to calm piano music this time as I felt the voices in the meditations yesterday really fucked with my head. Lesson learned.
Jase was nice enough to take videos of me pretending to be our cat Cricket, another of me talking about everything being mint chocolate chip marshmallows, my son Archie and I taking a ride and he said I asked about the kids every 30 seconds for an hour straight.
At one point Jase felt like hooking himself up to my I.V. just to deal with my excessive rambling about how much I loved everyone.
I slept the rest of the day. Today I feel very out of it. We are heading out for the 3rd treatment soon.
As far as helping with the pain, not a clue, I feel like a floating body.
I miss reading everyone’s blogs, hope all is well and thank you for reading and for your support. It means a lot.
Fear not! I went poop before my first Ketamine infusion. If you’ve been following along, that makes sense.
When I arrived at the pain clinic, they had me take an anti~nausea and anti~anxiety.
The young gal assigned to hooking me up to the EKG and blood pressure cuff consulted her phone incessantly for tips on where to place the EKG leads. WHAT???!!!!!!
The I.V. was inserted by the doc, and thanks to my cooperative veins, was a cinch. The doc seemed alarmingly relieved.
Once hooked up, I got cozy with my pillows, Jase popped on the Bose headphones and I went for a tripped out ride.
My body gradually felt warm, and numb. I couldn’t tell whether my eyes were open or closed and began to see what can only be described as shape shifting sandy landscapes in the color of deep purple. At times I felt upside down or as if my chair was floating through the ceiling. It was oddly comforting. I couldn’t feel a negative emotion.
I recall being filled with so much love I thought I was going to burst. I wanted everyone to know I loved them. Jase said I kept asking for his hand and that I was yelling out loving things. I remember asking about all the kids and wanting them to know I loved them. Fear not! Jase will write a post from his point of view in the future.
About 2 hours in my blood pressure went through the roof and I had to pee. That is something I’d like to avoid during todays treatment. Jase had to hold me on the toilet and wipe for me…….thank goodness I got all my pooping done before the treatment.
Four hours felt like 5 minutes, but a long 5 minutes. At the end I began sweating profusely and felt extremely nauseous. As soon as I got outside I had to vomit.
The 45 minute ride home is a blur. Jase carried me inside and again had to vomit. I slept till about 3, had some applesauce and crackers then back in bed till 6.
I watched a cooking show, ate some soup and went back to bed.
Anxious about round 2 today……..waiting to poop. Jase is a trooper for staying with me through 4 hours of la la land. His presence there was the most comforting feeling I’ve ever experienced. I remember wanting to hug him forever and kept telling him how much I loved him.
Ketamine infusions begin today and go through Thursday.
8 am till noon.
Four hours, four days in a row.
I put together a 4 hour playlist of meditations on healing along with healing sounds.
I figure why not become a partner with the Ketamine. Welcome it into this vessel known as my body. Come on in and rewire my nervous system, please and thank you. I promise I’ve been meditating, focusing on my breath, and training my brain to work though the pain. Welcome to the party, Ketamine, do your thing!
I’ve been wide awake since 3:30 am. It’s now 5:30. I spent the last 2 hours laughing at old videos of the kids and Jase going all the way back to 2016. I was mostly pain free and a bundle of energy. The pain has been a silent phantom slowly making itself a member of the family.
Sipping on coffee and heavy whipping cream (yes, it is sin in a mug) I’m imagining waking up and moving through the day without a burning sensation in every muscle and joint. Without tingling and numbness through my body. Trying to remember what it feels like to move effortlessly.
I’m also hoping I can relax enough to poop before we have to leave. Shut up, everyone poops and we all feel better after a good one, and I certainly don’t need to drag a ketamine I.V. into the shitter along with a nurse making sure I can wipe my ass while in a psychedelic frame of mind………or god forbid fall off the toilet and crack my head on the toilet paper dispenser.
Anyhoo, I’ll try to post my experiences over the next few days. Hoping for embarrassment free infusions……..fingers crossed……
Caught of guard by emotions that bubble up and words that fly from your lips………especially after you’ve taken the time to do your “inner work”?
In my minds eye I see heavy chains with impossible pad locks. The feeling of being bound sounds like static in my brain.
There’s a knowing beating in my heart. It sends out hope from the deep recess of my soul.
This knowing holds the key to the padlocks.
LET GO……….LET GO…….LET GO…….LET GO……
The picture above was taken a few days ago on my way to work. I’ve been hungrily gnawing at the truth that Spirit is not separate from us.
It is us.
There is no Santa Claus in the sky handing out party favors to the well behaved saints and laughing at others who are groveling in the dirt begging to be plucked from scarcity.
What sort of madness have we been taught as children? To believe in a Higher Power that we must bargain with, behave for, and serve….……………A Power that we are separate from? A Power that pooped us into existence and said “Figure out how to live. If you happen to get it right, there’s a reward for you in the end. ”
I could type for years about the misguided rot we’ve been spoon fed. It’s churning in my gut, curdling into a mass that is worthy of the sewer.
There is nothing any of us can do to become worthy of life. We already are.
Act without doing; Work without effort. Think of the small as large and the few as many. Confront the difficult While it is still easy; accomplish the great task by a series of small acts.
The Master never reaches for the great; thus he achieves greatness. When he runs into a difficulty, He stops and gives himself to it. He doesn’t cling to his own comfort; thus problems are no problem for him.
We had the pleasure of running into these lovely ladies on a drive today.
I needed to get out of the house and my head. Needed a break from pain and fatigue.
After driving though a manicured subdivision, this unlikely herd was just what I needed to pull me out of the spiral I started to drown in at the sight of more construction. For fuck’s sake, let’s not go there.
I’ve never fit into a manicured lifestyle.
When I was married and raising my family I made every attempt to look like I belonged there, but in my heart I longed for the unkept herd with the patchy fur and bad haircuts.
The herd not afraid to lick their nostrils with their tongue, instead of those fenced in by societies expectations.
The herd not afraid to let the grass grow wild because that meant more wild flowers, instead of those afraid of what the HOA and the neighbor’s would think.
There’s nothing wrong with any lifestyle, but it can feel all wrong if you’re not where you’re meant to be.
Hell, I have a son who felt like an alien in his body and he’s doing something about it.
I know and love people in many herds.
After we drove a bit, Jase, not knowing any of the dialogue in my brain, said “Hey Mare? When we have more money, will we still live a small life?”