Instant Pain In The Ass

It’s easy they said.

You can cook anything they said.

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.

Awesome.

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.

PTSD And Other Shenanigans

Giddy-up.

Had a 2 hour telehealth appointment. I’m told all symptoms point to PTSD. Makes sense.

I drag around a trunk of unresolved traumas, both new and old. Not because I’m sadistic, because I’ve been trying to resolve things on my own without professional help.

I’ve also written things off. “Oh, that was so long ago, I’m over it. There’s no way THAT is still having an effect on me.”

I’ve found pockets of relief here and there, but nothing substantial.

Seeing as I have a plethora of coping mechanisms already in place they are putting me in their healing trauma program. The sessions will also be via telehealth.

I’m thankful for what feels like some answers and direction.

We are down to 10 days until tent life begins. What a perfect accompaniment to the healing process.

My Produce Made A Funny

I forgot my mesh bags at home.

The produce decided to strike a pose after scanning.

The cashier and I shared a “masked” belly laugh.

Does anyone else miss seeing peoples mouths?

Not in a creepy way, but in a “missing rich interactions” way.

Crazy how not seeing a persons face in its entirety dulls communication.

Operation Tampon Run

“Black Betty” goes to Walgreens.

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.

Diva Cups and Hot Pink Coolers

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 Clucks

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.

These Are Hairy Times

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.

Just sayin.

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 12×12 Castle

On May 15th we’re moving into our tent.

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.

Feeding The Whisper Of War

Feed me.

Feed me.

Feed me.

The coronavirus screams to be fed.

Whispering into the ears of civilians, “They are the enemy. Fight against them.”

Right wing……. left wing……..socialism………capitalism…….the intensity with which others cling to their opinions.

That’s all they are. Opinions.

No one has the answer. Not a single one.

All the while we look for the answers that aren’t there and blame others for our discomfort and misfortune.

We keep feeding the beast with anger, hatred and war.

This is not a war.

It is merely the latest “big issue”, another test in time, and humanity is failing the test AGAIN.

We repeatedly fail to see the humanness of ourselves and others. Fail to see the opportunity to come together in peace.

*We live an hour outside Denver, there was a protest at the capitol to lift the lockdown. You can read up here if it’s of interest. (photo by me on PicsArt)

Naked In Front Of The Crowd

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.

So, you stand naked in front of the crowd.

Not for you.

For others.