Survival, Existence, and Wellness

Every day is a challenge and I try every day to get through the day. And so far I’ve survived every day, and that is amazing!

I endure. I persist.

I can imagine but I honestly don’t know for sure/(barely) care at all, what people think of me, as far as what I do or don’t do. What I should do. If I work. How I work.

Their perceptions belong to them.
My life is mine. I do what I can with what I have. I do what I can with what has been gifted. I do what I can. What I think I can. What I feel I can. Which are all the same thing to me.

Does a healthy brain think this way?,

And if it doesn’t, which I’m honestly not sure, why hassle someone whose brain doesn’t process the same way?

Chronic homelessness. Chronic mental illness. Sometimes they go hand in hand. Without help from family members and/or friends, how do people with chronic mental illness live? How do we survive? How do we exist? Is survival worth it? Is existence enough? I think without our friends, family, and/or public assistance, most of us would be dead. Most of us wouldn’t survive. Most of us wouldn’t exist.

And most of the people we know want us here. Sometimes more than we do. At least they say they do. And I don’t know why it’s this way. I don’t know why.

Does a healthy brain think this way? Probably not. So why expect me to understand or think they way you do, or do the things you would do? I fucking can’t.

Things are getting better for me for sure all around. Financially especially. Which is a relief. Over the past 4-5 months, I’ve had stability as far as a place to live goes. This is the longest I’ve stayed every night anywhere since 2009. That was true at 3.5 months really. And obviously it hasn’t been without judgments and frustrations but still, it’s been beneficial. It’s enabled me a space in order to think, plan, and willfully implement healthy/healthier habits/changes for myself/my life. It’s given me a foundation to create from.

I endure. I persist.

Slowly but surely. Every day. It’s everyday work. I don’t get paid for all I do (yet) but I pay for it in ways that may not seem to cost but do. I’m sure you can imagine. And if you can’t, maybe that’s a good thing? Maybe.

A successful day for me is not the same as it is for others and I don’t think people who don’t have mental health issues can ever understand. Those that will take any job to survive and pay for things, pay to live, don’t seem to understand that sometimes, with some jobs, we end up paying more than they pay us. We end up paying with our health, our mental health, our physical health, spiritual health, energy. We end up paying with our lives. I don’t know what the answers are. I don’t know even how to end this.

I don’t think a mentally healthy brain thinks this way.

Does it?

Today I recognize that stability, a home, is a necessity. I will work from home. I will have my own business. The dream. The plan. First things first: Shelter, food, clothing. Basic needs. Then build from there. Wish me well. Thanks for reading.

The Pathetic Empath

How can I love myself and hate the world I live in?

I don’t hate the world exactly. Our planet is beautiful. I know there is good here.

I don’t hate or I don’t like to hate. I think I maybe hate myself sometimes though. I do.

I feel disappointed with my country. I feel disappointed in myself. I care and I don’t. I care a lot and don’t know what to do or that I do know what I should do but don’t want to seem like I’m doing nothing. The work is so invisible and will pay off in future but the cost is high now. My self-esteem is low and personal autonomy is near nil.

I don’t participate like I should. Or like I think I should. I don’t make a lot of money. Like I used to. I’m not as miserable either. I don’t feel as miserable as I did when I made a lot of money. And that’s a deep-seated way of thinking affecting my way of living in this world at this time. Thought money matters I don’t think it should.
Unreal. I used to work a good job with good health insurance. I used to have my own apartment, my own car. I paid for all my stuff. I was responsible. I was able to make short trips near every weekend to a beautiful city. I was able to go to the movies, by a book, and an album every week. I could dine out. I worked 60+hrs a week. I was tired a lot. Though I could pay for things I felt stagnant. That I wasn’t living a life worth living. A slow slow death.
Then I had what doctors won’t call a breakdown anymore but that’s what it was. And I was out of work for months. And then I worked again. And then I went to school for 9 years and got 2 degrees and am one term short of another but have no interest/drive at all to finishing up any time soon. I thought about it for months. Months. Not an easy choice but one in which I can live with.
Currently, I live from the aid of other people. Friends mostly. Family sometimes.

Staying with a friend here in LA, rent-free. She is generous to have offered. As of today (9/16/18) I’ve officially been here 59 days. And that’s many days past too long. And the longest I’ve stayed anywhere in maybe 3 years. I need to get out of here and move on with my life. Make a home for my self that is healthy for me.

But how? How? How without money $$$$$$$$ and a way to earn?

The friend that I’m staying with. I walk her dog, Sampson, who is my friend also.MeandSam_CouchI do the dishes, try to be of use, and out of the way. I used to walk around at night, to relax and write (dictated into a voice recorder or type on my phone). I love the nighttime. The last couple of weeks I’ve been stuck here the majority of the time. And it’s dark during the day because the curtains are drawn because my friend works at night and sleeps during the day. The lack of light, the not being able to be out and about, and that sense of freedom I associate with mobility is gone (for now). This is really fucking with my all around health.
When I moved here in mid-July I didn’t have a mobile phone so another friend put me on her family plan and bought me a phone. She gave me $25 a week so I could get a bus pass. And then I got a job walking dogs in early August. And it was the best! And then one day (18 days ago) after walking a 7-month-old beauty, named Oslo, I stepped off of a curb, in a crosswalk, and got hit by a car. The left side of my body was struck. My leg was/is hurt. My knee, hip, ankle. So to the ER, where X-rays showed nothing broken. But the past week has been headaches, nausea, dizziness, and transitory pain. I know I am fortunate to be alive. I am lucky that I wasn’t hurt worse.

Pain woke me up this morning. My knee had been getting better but it popped last night while I was walking Sam, and popped back in place and this morning my whole leg hurts and I’m feeling tired, angry, discouraged. Because I have $8 and some change and can’t get around on my own. Not even to walk to get water. I think I’ll be able to if I take it really slowly but the concern is I risk doing more damage. I dislike asking for help or needing help. I dislike not knowing what to do.

And I’ve been here for 59 days. And I need move out of here but stay in LA, but how? How? Show me. Tell me. Because I’m at a loss.

My mind is restful due to meditation (119 days consecutive) but it’s like things are muted. Things still happening in front of me but feel far off. There’s an underlying feeling of unease, self-recrimination, guilt, an impression of laziness. Of waiting. But for what? Where is my sense of urgency? Is this not an emergency? Where are my survival instincts? Where is my pride? Why don’t I do whatever it takes? Maybe if I had someone else to take care of? Maybe not? The logical assessment is that I don’t care enough about myself to try to improve my lot. But that’s not exactly it. I do little by little every day. But it isn’t enough. Fear is a part of it. Fear of the unknown. What if I get into a job situation that is abusive? Which most of my friends in LA are experiencing in some way. I don’t want that. I can’t live it.

I keep thinking about the company we keep. That saying is that you are like the 5 people you spend the most time with. And unrelated but related in the sense of selling my body and time for money, I keep thinking of porn (filming it) or being a sex worker. Good money. Interesting work. Plus maybe guaranteed work because some people fetishize transpeople. If it were safe and regulated and/or if I had a good madam, I’m pretty sure I would.

I keep thinking about the spiritual reasons or underlying reasons for the car accident. Slow down. Pay attention. Value yourself first.

The older person who hit me, I let her go because I didn’t know if she had insurance because I didn’t know if she was a legal citizen because I didn’t want to cause her any trouble because I was in shock and the many people who witnessed let me limp away.
The left leg is hurt. The left knee is in and out. According to the internet, the left side is the past and the leg being hurt means I’m not able to physically support myself. The past 3 days my upper back, back of my neck, has been painful (7/10 easy), but not today. The thought last night was perhaps I need to confront my past (like maybe childhood stuff) to move on with things.

The physical pain may be a manifestation of the pain I feel emotionally and psychologically that I have not done my part to make the world a better place. I have not played my part or if I have it is the bare minimum. My friend who put me on her family plan reminds me that the world needs me. That her babies need me to live and be and contribute my perspective, my love, my essence in this world. But how can when I’m judging my fellow citizens? This grossness that is happening here in the U.S. is beyond what I can stomach. How can I do anything when I am judging myself relentlessly. The dizziness, nausea, the headaches. In rejecting what is happening I am rejecting myself and what I am capable of.

How can I prosper and build a foundation when so many suffer? How can I learn art, write, make photographs, learn the guitar, create films, when so many awful things are happening?
Genocide in the U.S. is not talked about on a mass public level but being forced to pay for poisoned water, jailed, while the government attempts to murder people who try to protect water (which is life). How can I prosper when there are missing children sold as slaves for sex and labor, put into concentration camps, families torn apart by our government? People everywhere being abused in every way possible? I feel it all. A healer. A distressed healer who has little to no idea on how to make money because though money matters in our society, it doesn’t appear to make things better. The truth is, my truth is, I want to be of service but not for sale.

I seem to be dealing with victimhood. Orientated towards victims of injustice. Feeling my empathetic nature too much. Feeling pathetic.

Feeling angry and hopeful and tired.

Maybe I should…

dance? Maybe I will dance
with the hurt
My heart is on the same side.


The Silence of Our Friends…and Families

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
-Martin Luther King Jr.

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends and families.

The past couple of months I’ve been holding on to something that I know I need to let go of. My recurring thoughts have been, “But I would defend you. I’d never let anyone repeatedly disrespect you. No one. Never.”

There is absolute judgement in these thoughts. I am judging them. I am judging their characters. They who are so much like me. The peacemakers. The tenderhearted.

The near constant internal conflict, bred, born, fed, is that I don’t think of myself as judgemental. This isn’t me. But it is. This makes me feel sick.
There is disappointment, loss, heartache intertwined with these thoughts. But the loss and heartache isn’t one way and isn’t simply about one thing. I know this. The relationships are fractured yet still exist.

I believe in past lives/past loves, future lives/future loves. I live/love in the in between (space) places. I step into and out of this present to acknowledge that I have betrayed those who love me with my silence while they have suffered at the hands/minds/mouths of others. At some time in all my time I have allowed people to be mistreated in my presence and said nothing. I had my reasons AND my Heart failed in those moments.

Loving Heart,
Remind me to be compassionate towards others and myself, to forgive others as I’d like to be forgiven, and accept people as they are, where they are, on this journey.