[Journal] Round the Twist

It’s been a little while since I updated this blog, and it’s my fault. We did the house move, I got really sick for a while, had a massive flare, had a hard drive crash, wrestled with depression and was generally either in bed or at an appointment. I probably could have written a journal in the mean time, but I was pretty emotionally exhausted and have been dealing with settling in issues here and, honestly, I couldn’t outlay the energy to write a big, long blog update and deal with things on my end as well. So now that I’ve managed to calm things down a little on this end, I can update you all and let you know I’m still here.

So, to begin. Moving was a hassle. Not so much for the physical moving of boxes, but Manthing and I have moved in from a small 3 bedroom house on our own to the even smaller family 2 bedroom home. It’s been a process of culling furniture, playing tetris with boxes to maximise space, clearing out 20 years of hoarding from a garage and generally destroying dustbunnies in any way I can. My mother is a lovely woman but, due to her own fairly rough past, has a history of some mental health issues which are self-perpetuating with her unhealthy behaviour at present. Manthing and I, amongst other reasons, have moved in here in order to hopefully help her, keep her company and ease her back into the world at her own pace. She now has reason to get out and leave the house, eats well (Because I’m an amazing cook!) and has reasonable expectations set for behaviour and routine. Long story short, it’s a good thing.

The problem I face is that this is also the house I left when I was 18 and my mother and I historically have not had the best relationship. I find a lot of her behaviour incredibly frustrating and senseless, and I’m often a little on the snippy side with her and Manthing since I’ve had nothing but above-average pain levels since moving here. It’s somewhat of a tetchy matter and something we’re working towards, but the situation is highly unpredictable due to the present mental health issues in this house. I don’t often know if I’m speaking to my mother or a 16 year old and since these aren’t issues she will address herself, I’m rather at a stalemate about the whole thing and the best I can do is take each day as it comes and do my best to be understanding about it all.

I’ve also had to resign with a new Disability Employment Support service due to policy changes – everyone under 35 and on disability pension is now considered a lazy, layabout dole bludger and MUST return to work, regardless of their personal circumstances. I’ve taken great pains over the last 6 months to explore my educational options and I’d sincerely like to follow up and complete my Vet Nursing studies with a view to continue on to Vet Science, but it has to be done at a snails pace with my body and neurological issues. I’d also enjoy furthering my silversmithing skills and learning how to manufacture set-stone and silver jewellery, but the course arrangements for that make it almost impossible.  But, it’s been decided for me that I must return to work, despite also running a small business. You know, the small business that doesn’t make minimum wage presently due to my shit health? Yeah. So under present circumstances I’m being forwarded for admin/reception jobs I have no say over.

At this point it only looks like one or two days a week, which should be fine in theory, but I’m rather concerned about what’s going to happen when I have a repeat of the last 2 weeks where I have no choice but to spend it in bed or face hospitalisation. I’m damn good at that line of work and can run an entire corporate office while half asleep (and have done so in the past!), but I’m concerned about the days I can’t work properly, I have to go home early or can’t turn up at all. If I don’t make my weekly hours, my pension gets cut entirely and Manthing and my mother don’t have enough to cover the cost of my bills and medication through just the two of them.

So, in the mean time, I’m doing my best to get the business up and happening again, despite everything being in storage. The reason you haven’t seen anything of the 100 Unicorns Project these last few weeks is because I was busy turning my last drawing into a completed colouring page for sale via PDF. It was a little bit of a runabout considering it was my very first, but I learned a lot from the process that will make it much easier for me with the next one. My plan is to release a whole bunch of colouring pages for sale in my Etsy store that will, at the very least, put a few dollars a fortnight into my pocket to make it easier to pay for other things. I considered starting a Paetron for this blog, but I don’t think I offer enough to warrant people contributing towards the blog financially. Furthermore, I think that the few people that follow this blog have health issues of their own which isn’t a cheap thing, so their money would be better spent going towards their own bills rather than paying for me to write and draw. At least with the colouring pages, there’s an actual transaction taking place – they buy the colouring page, they get something for their money. I’m still deliberating wheather I should put the link to the listing here or not, since this blog provides me a degree of anonymity and my shop breaches that. I suppose if enough people are interested in spending two dollars on a page, I would consider it, but that’s not the purpose of this blog post.

“Over the weekend I was referred to a potential new GP. The incident left me rather upset and I wrote a quick post about it on another site, and I figured it was finally time for me to post it here.

So today I saw a potential new GP. I knew we wouldn’t see eye to eye when the first thing out of his mouth was that one of my two major debilitating conditons was psychological and he didn’t believe in it, amongst other things.

While I firmly acknowledge that a good portion of pain management and mitigation comes from a good headspace and that stress and psychological hiccups will increase my pain levels and potentially CAUSE flares for me, disregarding factual evidence based in scientific publications in favour of willful ignorance to uphold your baised and outdated views is frankly a breech of the hipocratic oath. Disregaring the research of fellow doctors and the confirmation of verified conditions in the form of a diagnosis is disrespect for your colleagues and, most importantly, blatantly denying the very real symptoms I face on a faily basis ignores the fact that I am not just a record sheet. I am a human being whose existence and suffering and joy and sadness is as real as anyone else’s. You can not ignore the patient in favour of the medicine. You can’t seperate the condition from the afflicted.

I’ve gone through countless versions of this experience when I see a new doctor for the first time, and it never gets any easier when it happens. If i had a broken arm or fractured pelvis, a quantifiable and documentable deviation from health, you would never dream of telling me that I should just “get my shit together” and “get on with life”. My condition would be real and visible and if you told me that the fracture was purely in my head, you would be booted out of medicine, called a complete imbicle and everyone would hoo ra in behind me about how inconsiderate you were.

Life with an invisible illness stretches so far beyond “I’m sick” that it’s often impossible to explain it to people who have never experienced anything like it. It’s not just the struggle of your own body working against you. It’s having to fight to have people believe you because you pass as healthy and able bodied. It’s having medical practitioners tell you that they don’t believe you or that they don’t believe in the condition. It’s being questioned every time you need pain medication. It’s being labled a drug seeker, an attention whore, lazy, unmotivated and even a hypochondriac. It’s having every action scrutinised by people who deny the truth of your existence, and it still being acceptible for them to vocally deny your issues. It’s a fight. Every single day. Not just against your own body, but against the world. For some people it’s just against doctors. For others, it’s against your friends and family too.

It’s the uncertainty of knowing whether you will be believed and it’s not wanting to talk about your illnesses because of it. It’s wanting so badly to pass as healthy to avoid the scrutiny and yet hating every single second that the beast you’re fighting is invisible to everyone but yourself and the rare few that know that monster, too.

And it fucking sucks.”

 

I figure this might be something people can relate to. I’m still very exhausted from everything that’s happened over the past few weeks, so I might leave this blog entry off here and do my best to keep some more regular posting from here on in.

❤ Abi

[Journal] Bringing you up to speed and 100 unicorns project

So, some of you may have noticed that all my journals since January have been rather short and there hasn’t been an abundance of activity on my blog. I’m here to explain why.

Back towards Christmas, we knew my grandmother wasn’t doing so well. She was very old, had seen a lot of shit in her time and her whole body was shutting down on her after years of medication abuse, two open heart surgeries and enough other health issues that make me look like a Spring chicken. When she passed away around the 17th of January, it was sad but no real surprise. I’m fairly certain the only thing that kept her holding on so long was her sheer stubbornness, both a blessing and a curse that all European women seem to have.

We got past the funeral, barely. With family issues (because there is always family issues at a funeral) seen to with as much grace as I could muster, we got to the paperwork and the Will. Everything’s set in motion and I found out where we stood on a few matters regarding the house, inheritance and, again, family. This is after spending roughly a fortnight pulling my hair out, swearing in every language I know and wanting to set people’s pubes on fire.

So, with that being one of the shortest run-downs of an overly bullshit and dramatic time that I think I’ve ever written, we’re back up to date and the situation stands thus:

The manthing and I are moving. Yes, again.

We had been in this present rental roughly a year and the universe caught wind of how nice and peaceful things had been and decided to let off a metric tonne of napalm under our arses. What it boils down to is that my mother dearest can’t live alone. Now that’s not to say that she’s physically incapable of it, but moreso her mental health suffers greatly from being isolated to the point where she barely leaves the house. She needs human company. While manthing and I will enjoy not having to pay rent for a while, at this point it’s a secondary consideration.

Once we move back home, we’ll handle the rest of the Will and estate bullshit, eventually sell the place, end up moving to another rental closer to where we want to live in 9 months or so, and then finally buying somewhere permanent where my mother will remain with us.

In between all of this, I’ve had two major flares, have been working on packing an entire house into boxes and all sorts of mundane bullshit at the same time, which is why the posts have been short and sporadic at best. Manthing and I are presently at the point where we’re at the apex of the move. Roughly half the house is packed and in boxes (and I’m taking a well-deserved break from it all to write this), so in theory that means I should have a little more time for blogging and comic writing in the next few weeks, but I’m not holding my breath.

Now for the fun part. I’ve started something I’ve decided to call the 100 unicorns project. I know. The name is just so full of imagination.

What this boils down to is that, over the next… well, whenever, to combat my depression and anxiety, I will be drawing unicorns. 100 of them, to be exact. Now, I had planned to do 365 days of unicorns, and paled at the thought of having to hold the pencil with my foot while in the shower trying to bathe the pain away, so I figured 100 was much more reasonable. I could space them out every few days, or do three in a day, so long as I stuck to the plan and kept drawing. They could be sketches, paintings or even some kind of jewellery item, so long as they fit the theme.

It’s nothing too crazy, but I adore unicorns and I also like not feeling like shit. And you all seem to like drawings, so it’s the perfect motivation. So, you all have 100 unicorns to look forward to over the next (hopefully) 9 months or so. That’s two a week and then a few on the side, right? Anyway, back to packing!

[Comic and journal] For those that play at home + bonus baby bird!

Your very own game of bingo!

Your very own game of bingo!

While unpacking and sorting all the bits and bobs in the new house, I came across a comic that I had drawn shortly before we left the old house. It sums up my feelings on that place pretty well, actually.

Though we’ve only been here a week (and most of that has been spent out of the house, sleeping or unpacking) I’m already so much more relaxed than I was at our old place. No more paint dust and allergies, no more noisy, nosey neighbours, no more worrying about kids getting run over in the driveway and no more living in other people’s yards. The place here is much older than our last place, but this is a standalone house with a backyard.

Nugget :3

Nugget :3

 

Speaking of backyards, here’s a bonus picture of Nugget, our little baby house sparrow. When we moved in to our new home, I heard a scratching, cheeping party up in our gutters. With the help of a friend, we discovered the nest of a pair of house sparrows and their three babies. Given that the bubs were fully feathered (roughly 10-14 days old) and it was a 40’c day here, the hot gutters were no place for them, especially given the way the nest would be washed into our drain and cause all sorts of issues. So, we upset mum and dad sparrow and shifted the nest. One of the babies was old enough to go “Shitshitshit!” all the way into a nearby tree to where the parents were grumping. The other two were too dehydrated to do much, so I took them in and watered them and kept them overnight.

I should clarify here that ‘watering the sparrow’ is not a euphemism, nor does it involve a watering can.

The second eldest was released the following day and gave me a distasteful chirp before joining hi family in the same tree. Nugget, the youngest could barely manage a belly flop, let alone get lift. Thus began my brief stint as the Bird Mother.

Nugget stayed with us for seven days. Every morning I’d put her out on the back lawn along with a shallow dish of water and some seed mix to encourage her family to feed and teach her how to eat. Every night she’d come back inside, get watered a little (for the first few nights) and fed and put to bed. As someone who’s spent a considerable amount of time raising wild birds and releasing them, adopting strays and doing the odd ’emergency’ call for friends and family, Nugget soon realised that I wasn’t going to put her in my mouth and nom on the little fluffball.

I also need to mention that just now, while writing this, I was attacked by the world’s biggest click bug. Seriously. That bitch was huge.

Yesterday Nugget managed to increase her bellyflop-to-getofftheground ratio enough to make it to the same tree along with the rest of her family, where her siblings promptly boffed her on the head to establish pecking order and then they all came back down to eat some more. When we get a bit more settled, I’ll be putting a nesting box out on a pole in the backyard (under the tree) so the little buggers can stay the hell out of my gutters while still being the adorable little featherballs I love.

In the meantime, the weather here has been pretty brutal. Storms and rain almost every afternoon have been flipping the bird to my body the whole time, which has made unpacking a long and painful process. I’ve resigned myself to a roster of lying in bed and being miserable, wandering about on errands while waiting for painkillers to kick in and then unpacking in a haze of lethargy, painkiller dopiness and general grumpiness, and not always in that order.

On the plus side, because of how exhausted I’ve been lately, I’ve actually been sleeping through the night, which is a miracle in and of itself. I also have another comic for tomorrow (or when I upload it) of my amazing, brilliant, not-so-good costuming fun time :3

In the meantime, there is sleep to be had what with it being 1:50am. Yup. I’m that much of a badass.

 

[Photo] Earning my spoons

image

(Caption because it may not be clear: Spoon reads “Earned my spoon”)

A while ago my mother got me this little pendant off Etsy. If I could remember who made it, I’d link them. It normally hangs in my kitchen below the clock,  or on one of the handles here so I always look at it.

Today is moving day. After over a month of complete bullshit, we’re finally moving out of this toxic house and into somewhere better. Rather than packing the necklace in my bag to get lost in the abyss, I thought it was rather appropriate that I wear it today. I’m fifteen kinds of exhausted, my feet feel ready to fall off and my body is trying to brew a migraine, but I feel genuinely humbled by the friends that have turned out to help us today.

After all the crap, good things do happen 🙂