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Lemme Tell You a Wake-Up Story

Posted on by akiwifreund

Warning: Adult Language

The Shit Theory

Nashville (https://thesickandthedating.com/2016/01/18/i-saw-another-ghost/) sent me messages saying, “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.” When I asked him why he ghosted me, he just said, “Don’t be mad” again. He “hates to fight.” Then he said he didn’t call me back for a few weeks because he “had his dog.” Zero explanation, unless that dog dials his phone for him. No response at all to my repeated asking of why he disappeared. I even resorted to saying, “Did my infection make you uncomfortable?” I mean, seriously, I would say the words for him if he couldn’t. But he couldn’t even respond to that. So I told him that if he can’t communicate with me, then there’s no point in seeing each other anymore.

I know he’s sleeping right now because he wakes up right before he has to go in for his third shift hours. When he wakes up, if he gets all whiny again, I’ve decided I’ll have to lay the shit theory on him. It’s something I’ve thought up just this afternoon that I think will explain what I see happening and what I think he needs to do.

Most of us who have had chronic illnesses for years (or even decades) are familiar with the “spoon theory” that a very clever woman came up with on the fly to teach her good friend about what it’s like to have a chronic condition that greatly affects the quality of life. Sufferers have even self-identified as “spoonies,” which makes it hella easy to find each other online.

I don’t expect this theory to find the same fame, but it would be funny if it did.

Okay, let’s say Nashville got up from a full 7 hours of sleep and did his business in the toilet, including a #2. (I know dudes are super regular like that, all of them that I’ve lived with are like clockwork.) But instead of flushing his shit down the toilet, he reaches down into the bowl and picks up the shit. He looks around the bathroom, and then he starts smearing. He gets a good amount on the floor and the shit cakes up a bit in the grout between the tiles. He also goes for the walls – big smears, maybe some letters. He even saves some shit for the sink and the dookie gets into the joints of the faucet handle. Nashville stands there for a minute, looks at the shit on his hands and fingers, and then yells for me. I come to the door, take one look and I say, “What the fuck, Nashville? Why did you smear shit all over the bathroom?” He says, “Don’t be mad at me. I have to go watch my dog wag her tail.” I say again, “Why the fuck did you smear shit all over every single part of the bathroom instead of just flushing it down the toilet like a healthy person?” Nashville says, “I don’t want you to be mad at me. Can you stop being mad at me? I love my dog.”

Nashville (as well as many people in general) claims he hates chaos. Chaos = shit, in this story. He could have just flushed the shit down the pipes. In other words, if you don’t want chaos, then don’t bring it into your world. You have a choice. If you choose to reach down into the bowl, cradle it in your hands and start smearing it around, it’s not okay to 1. Keep doing it until it’s in every nook and cranny of your life (no matter how much you B.S. yourself that you’re keeping it separate), and 2. Ask for someone to clean up the shit that you chose to spread. Certainly don’t ignore it (as Nashville did when he ignored my questions). All it’s gonna do is dry where it sits and be even harder to clean (aka all I’m going to do is get pissed, and he’s STILL going to have to deal with it). Sometimes a person has to hire a plumber (psychiatrist, psychologist or counselor) to help figure out clogs in the pipes (brain), but it’s better to take care of that sort of thing before the problem becomes completely out of control.

So, Nashville, the moral of the story is: Clean up your own shit.

The End

 

 

Isn’t That A Co-inky-dink?

Posted on by akiwifreund

This year began on pretty rough ground. First, Quato from Total Recall was growing in my left ass cheek and trying really hard to bust out. Every day for three weeks (including some weekends) someone had to look at my bare ass. Then my body got so stressed out from not being able to stay flat every day that my tremors came back. I have been feeling just exhausted. I wish I had a Keebler elf that I could pull out of my pocket and demand that s/he do all of my dishes and scrub my tub and toilet.

But here’s the thing: I’ve been getting some validations.

The start was getting the image of a lemon cake, the kind like my mom made when I was a kid, in my head. I could picture myself mixing the lemon curd to make the frosting, putting that on the layers, and then cutting myself a slice, still kinda warm. Later on, before I left to go to the meditation class, I caught up with a friend I haven’t talked to in about a decade. She told me that she made herself a lemon cake that afternoon to celebrate her own birthday.

Last night I thought to myself, “Call S. in Scottsdale.” I didn’t know why I thought that, because we talked two weeks ago and I figured that update would have carried us over for a bit. Ten minutes later she called me to tell me she had moved (somewhat abruptly) and her plans changed from what she told me two weeks prior – she decided to stay in Scottsdale rather than pursue a job opportunity elsewhere.

My final ride for the evening yesterday on the short bus involved me being picked up from the grocery store and redeposited at home. It ended up being a really, really long ride – since it’s a ride share, rarely is one rider picked up and then brought to their destination without stopping elsewhere first. The driver and I started chatting while we waited for one rider to finish with her church group. I heard, “Tell her you’re selling your car” in my ear, or brain, or however you’d like to think about it. Anyway, I worked it into the conversation. She became serious and asked me what kind of car it was because she and her husband were looking for a second vehicle. I didn’t really do a hard sell with her because ultimately I didn’t think it would be something she would seriously consider; my car is a hatchback, and she was talking small SUV. Still, it was worth a shot.

I’m not really sure what I have to do to keep connecting with the universe, but I guess I had better get a move on.

 

Life Lessons Learned From Being Homeless – by Kenny Murray

Posted on by akiwifreund

These are all wonderful points; some of them will save you from homelessness if you ever find yourself close to it. (The only one I don’t practice is believing that it can always be worse. As I like to say, it’s not a competition for the shit cookie.) Be well and be loved.

Kindness Blog's avatarKindness Blog

I’ve been homeless four times in my 25 years on this planet.

When I was 7 my father kicked my mother, me and my four siblings out of the house.

When I was 9 my father had found where we lived and my mum fled with us for our well-being.

When I was 11, he found us again. We ran.

The last time I was homeless was when I’d refused to get involved in my local gang in Easterhouse (one of Scotland’s poorest housing estates), so drew attention from one of the local hooligans. I was beaten up so badly that we left the area for our own safety.

I’m not writing this so people feel sorry for me, rather I’m writing it to illustrate that yes, whilst I was homeless four times I’ve not let it dictate my life in a negative manner — rather I use it as a means…

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This solar innovation by a Swedish artist uses surprisingly simple technology to save lives

Posted on by akiwifreund

Source: This solar innovation by a Swedish artist uses surprisingly simple technology to save lives

I cannot stress enough how exciting it is to read about this, and how many lives are benefiting from this invention. It seems so simple – which means that there is less of a chance of failure of parts for this water purifying system.

This Guy With POTS Is Just as Inspiring as the Famous People He Photographs

Posted on by akiwifreund

Simply put, Adam Jacobs’ photos are breathtaking. And it’s quite possible that he never would’ve discovered his talent if he hadn’t picked up a camera as a way to distract himself from the undiagnosed pain he now knows was caused by Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS). Until he was 18, UK-born Adam was just a healthy,…

Source: This Guy With POTS Is Just as Inspiring as the Famous People He Photographs

Are You There, God? It’s Me, Chelsea

Posted on by akiwifreund

Judy Blume wrote from the perspective she was most familiar with – her own. It’s what we all do. It’s what makes our stories unique, especially when we look at the story teller as female vs. male, as tall vs. short, as narrow vs. wide, as black vs. white, as wheeled vs. walking.

Something that Judy Blume would have no perspective on is the experience of a girl going through puberty and dealing with questions about her body and her sexuality while also experiencing a physical disability. For instance, would it be so easy to use a tampon if your hands did not have the dexterity and strength that most girls had simply because you had cerebral palsy? It seems unfair that a girl with CP have to advertise to the world that she had to install a brick (aka pad) in her underwear because a tampon was just too damn complicated.

For me, my baldness has flavored many stories. I didn’t choose to lose all my hair. I had absolutely no control on it falling out, and I have no control on it growing back. However, wigs have gotten so good that I can “pass” to the untrained eye. I still get a once- or twice-over.

This woman is hugely disappointed because she has never been catcalled. I’m sure she’s faced many, many types of discrimination, but she is heartbroken because she has never been desired simply for her appearance. She is always going to be liked for her personality, and only after she has been passed over by many, many men. She has never written in her journal that some stranger said something sexual and inappropriate to her, and she told him to fuck off and then ran-walked away.

Right now I only use a cane to help me walk – my walker stays in my closet. But I know a bit about what she feels. I am treated completely different when I’m walking with my cane compared to no cane. I even feel different, more vulnerable without it, because I know that when my feet are slapping together and my face is paralyzed, I’ve lost all desirability.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/the-establishment/nobody-catcalls-the-woman-in-the-wheelchair_b_9130226.html

 

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Creeper

Posted on by akiwifreund

I’ve been on an opera kick this week. Puccini is my absolute favorite composer, so I’ve had that station going all week while I have read articles, organized my taxes, and for the first time have colored in my “adult coloring book.” I’m a little slow on trends sometimes.

I often don’t understand the meaning of the songs because who here speaks fluent Italian? Not I. But it certainly adds a little flavor to my tasks. Also, it’s the funniest thing to run across some slow-motion films of dogs wiping out in the sand or attempting and failing to catch treats or toys in their mouths – so dramatic when Maria Callas is wailing!

I was feeling very passionately that my OKCupid profile needed another revamp. Guys don’t care what I’m doing with my life or which books I’ve read or if I know all of the cool places to eat. They just want to know if I will go hunting and fishing with them (welcome to Minnesota) and if I can hook my ankles behind my ears. So I took all that crap out. This is what my profile says now:

MY SELF-SUMMARY
*******I’M ALLERGIC TO:********

– Hookups, FWB, DTF
– Threesomes, foursomes or moresomes
– All animals furred or feathered (even “hypoallergenic” animals), though I love them
– Misogynistic behavior
– Bad behavior and excuses
– Cheaters, liars, thieves
– Poor dental hygiene
– Conspiracy theorists
– Stalkers
– Contemporary country music, rap
– Republicans
– Being called “cutie”
– Organized religion or prayer

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

I don’t get out as much as I would like to because of some major health issues.

You should message me if

– You are a non-smoker (of all things) and don’t use chew/snuff (ever)
– We live in the same country; my preference is to connect with someone in the same metro area because I dislike long distance relationships.
– You know and use proper grammar, spelling and punctuation.
– You would like me to proofread your profile for grammar, spelling and punctuation errors.

Almost immediately after posting these bullet points, a guy hit me up and said I was hilarious, and unfortunately, he was a hardcore Catholic and a Republican – but he really appreciated my sense of humor. We ended up having a really good chat through the site. He talked about his daughters, and how one of them was living with him as well as a nearly 2-year-old grandson. We chatted about the intricacies of finding and keeping a job that could pay the bills without the need to add another job. We talked a little bit about my disease and how it affected my ability to be social.

In all, a respectful, flowing conversation happened. Then I got an unexpected but very welcome call from my close friend in Arizona, and told the guy that I couldn’t chat because of the phone call. He said that was fine and posted his number, and I replied back with mine. He asked if I would be interested in a date. I thought what the hell, if we get along, we both could include each other in our circle of friends.

My call with my friend was pretty lively. She told me about the difficulties she had with men she had dated (or really, had minimal contact with) who kept calling and texting, even though she wasn’t interested and told them so. She told me how one had briefly been a professional MMA fighter, and took it upon himself to put her in a choke hold and then forced her to the floor. Another was a guy who couldn’t seem to accept the fact that she had gotten into a relationship with someone else instead of him, and even agreed to a double date so my friend could introduce him to our other friend – until he realized that my friend was also bringing her boyfriend.

My advice was that she must use small words and tell them why she is cutting them off, and then cut them off. First, they are not respecting her boundaries, and she does not owe them anything. Second, she needs to get her mind out of the space where women are required to be people pleasers and make sure they don’t anger men. That anger rears its ugly head when men think they are simply entitled to women’s bodies. How dare we reject them?

After we ended our call, I texted the dude and apologized for taking longer than I had planned. He called me “cutie” with a smiley face, just to piss me off. The next thing he did was tell me how beautiful my eyes are. I thanked him and told him I appreciated his complement, but I put more value in values than I do appearance. We discussed options for activities where I wouldn’t be up and out for too long (hopefully longer than a high five).

And then Hidden Creeper came out.

I was trying to discuss meeting places with him, and he kept talking about my appearance and how “cute” I am and that he just couldn’t help it. Then he asked me if he could kiss me.

In my head I was saying, “Hold on there, buddy – where in the hell did this come from, Mr. I’m-a-Hardcore-Catholic?” It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that him talking about kissing me is his code for testing me to see if he can go balls deep. It happens all of the time.

I told him that if we both felt attracted to the other person, then sure, we can have a smooch. But I also told him that I didn’t want to discuss it further, because it has been my experience that if all you do is talk about what you want to do with the other person once you have entered their personal space, and then you actually meet, it doesn’t end well. Sometimes there’s no attraction from one or both parties. but then they feel obligated to ______ because it was talked about. I told him that I wanted to make sure we’re not getting ahead of ourselves.

He replied with, “Ok sounds good” and then stopped texting me. So I still have no idea if this date is going to happen, but my guess is that it won’t.

I feel the change in personality happened as soon as we started communicating off of OKCupid and that is because he knows I could easily block him there and he would have no idea how find me. Luckily I can push his calls and texts to spam if I get some on my cell, but he doesn’t know that. I just feel sorry for his daughters. He revealed to me that his oldest daughter moved back in with him because she’s 24, has a 2-year-old, is kind of lost, and the baby’s daddy is an asshole who took off. I want to shake him and say, “He took off because you didn’t teach your daughter how to value herself, or she may never have let him in in the first place.”

Being able to look at everything and process it in a much healthier way than I have in the past is my present to myself. I’m not perfect, but I’m getting better. I wish everyone else luck, would like to remind you that it sometimes takes effort to get on the right track, and keep holding yourself and other people accountable.

Seek And Ye Shall Find

Posted on by akiwifreund

Yesterday didn’t strike me as being especially significant. It wasn’t a holiday and my rare disease wasn’t cured, so…

Okay, first of all, I’m paying more attention to the things that bring people to this little blog – and I do mean little. Six months ago I was lucky to get three visitors in a single day. Now my number of visitors is increasing because of the ways that I am networking with other bloggers and the content that I am including.

Nothing could prepare me for some of the search terms indicated by the program, though. (You’re welcome.)

*where does horny women hang in nashville
*fragile handle with care advertise porn
*pantyhose kik names
*stocking fetish social sites in India

Congratulations, and let your freak flag fly. There’s no way for me to identify the people making these searches. I have to point out, though – no one searched for hot, bald, unmarried women?? I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve been proposed to by a total stranger. I hope that issue remedies itself shortly.

In the evening yesterday I took the short bus to a guided meditation session held in a health crisis center. I wasn’t sure how it would go because I tend to just kind of throw my hands up in the air and then rush onto the next thing, whatever that is, to keep my brain stimulated because I get bored easily. During the actual meditation, which really only lasted about 20 minutes, I had to fight against dozing off twice, and luckily I didn’t snore or accidentally pas gas.

Twice I saw an orb rise out of a pool. I only “saw” it to the left of my left eye. I told some of the attendees during our recap about my experience and let them know that their vibes had a specific effect on me. One woman asked me if I had always been able to read strangers’ energy. I have, but I have never really put effort into following through on what I read; usually I push it away or ignore it, which is actually very destructive because then everything gets a free pass into my life and I end up hip deep in crap.

Whatever happened, the universe made a connection appear for me. My short bus driver made a stop after mine to pick up a lady in a wheelchair. She greeted me when she was lifted into the van, and immediately we started chatting. I asked her if she had just come from a dance performance because the building she had come out of was a theater specifically set up for that purpose. The answer was no, in fact; she was on the board for VSA Minnesota, the “state organization on arts and disability” (I got that from the website).

I told her a bit about my arts background as well as what I’m doing now (which is admittedly very little because my days are consumed by endless doctor appointments), and she gave me three organizations to get involved with besides her own to network, meet new people, be creative, and maybe even apply for a grant in my area of interest.

To the casual observer, this may not seem to be a big deal. It just drove home to me the fact that this state is so much more inclusive than where I moved from. I never, ever would have had so many resources to access for my particular physical challenges if I would have stayed in Arizona. I wouldn’t have been able to even ride the short bus because of their strict rules regarding who should be allowed to ride.

Really, meeting and speaking to that woman last night helped to open my eyes to the fact that even though I’ve got these major problems, I might actually be able to find a group of people who can see art where others may only see injury and illness. I am still working on retraining my brain to accept this as my new reality because the doctors have refused to keep operating on me. I still really miss driving my car while harmonizing at the top of my lungs.

I Very Much Relate To This Article

Posted on by akiwifreund

Sure, I’ve had a hysterectomy (for different reasons altogether) – but that’s not the point. I am the best record keeper for my rare disease, which is still undiagnosed after over 5.5 years. All along I have told doctors exactly what is wrong and why it’s happening, and sometimes they can confirm it after a few years of treating me. The problem is that we don’t have all of the tests and scans necessary to figure out the etiology – our science hasn’t caught up. It’s not my fault. It isn’t the doctors’ fault either. However, my biggest obstacle is getting anyone to listen to me. Telling me that my tests are “normal” and therefore there’s nothing wrong with me is counterintuitive to my paralyzed face and spasming neck staring back at them.

Source: If my doctor had ignored my intuition about my pregnancy, I’d be dead

If my doctor had ignored my intuition about my pregnancy, I’d be dead

 

strong as a suffragette

Posted on by akiwifreund

I am grateful for campaigns that aim to teach the masses that it’s wrong to prey on other people simply because you can, be it because of social status, mental capacity and reasoning or physical ability. However, the message is still too slow to spread. As I was reading the blog of this very brave woman who has chosen not to remain silent, I am struck by the fact that we women (and girls) have to constantly have a recording running through our heads, and that is, “What can I do to not be attacked?” With what happened to the suffragettes, they had to be aware that simply demanding the right to vote would result in verbal slander, humiliation, beatings and rapes. It was their punishment for being female and wanting to vote. In the present day, we women still have to think about what we can “handle” when we go out into the world – can we handle being verbally assaulted, humiliated, raped or beaten?

Really, the question should be, “Why do we teach men and women that it’s a woman’s fault for being verbally and/or physically assaulted?” If she just would have stayed silent, if she just would have found a man to walk with her, if she just would have stayed inside when it started getting dark, if she just would have had water to drink instead of a cocktail, if she just would have smiled at that man, if she just would have NOT smiled at that man, if she just would have carried a gun, if she would have just taken self-defense classes, if she would just not gone to school…well, the list goes on and on. But where is the recording for those that carry out these acts of violence against women?