There’s always a boom tomorrow.

I was doing pretty well for two days after my friend’s wedding, but now the depression and apathy are back.  I haven’t done anything about my housing situation.  I think some part of me just wants to destroy the life I’m just barely holding together.  I think subconsciously I’m frustrated that no one sees how hard it is or that I’m NOT okay or doing well, so I want to make the outward appearance of my life match my internal state of chaos and hopelessness.  Then I will know for sure if anyone thinks I’m worth saving, and if they don’t, maybe I won’t feel obligated to stay alive anymore.

I know that’s profoundly screwed up.  I know how terrible it makes me sound, and maybe I really am that terrible.  I just can’t keep going like this with no help or support.

August Wedding #2

Today, a dear friend of mine got married.  She’s the one who first got me involved in political campaigns.  In 2012, on a whim, I signed up on the internet to volunteer for the presidential campaign, not really thinking anything would come of it.  A week or so later, I got a phone call.  Normally, if it’s a number I don’t know, I let it go to voicemail, but that day, I picked up because I thought it was my doctor’s office calling me back.

Instead, it was Jenny.  She invited me to a phone bank, and I said yes.  A few weeks later, I was very involved in the campaign locally.  A couple months later, I was the local data coordinator, and we got to go to New Hampshire and meet President Obama.  We spent lots of hours together–house meetings, organizing meetings, phone banks, canvasses, farmer’s market tables, convention and debate parties.


(I’m on the left, Jenny in the middle, and the guy on the right is Larry.)


Me, Vic, Jenny, and Larry.  Actually, all of these folks were at the wedding, as well as Vic’s husband and Larry’s wife.  These photos were taken in New Hampshire when we went to see the President speak–almost exactly two years ago.

We kept in touch after the campaign, too.  I would see Jenny around town occasionally, and she invited me to her Christmas party the year before last.  I remember at our Inauguration party, she pulled me aside and told me I was “Supreme Court smart” and offered to write me a letter of reference for school or a job or anything.  And she’s someone I never would’ve met if I hadn’t worked on this campaign.

But I’ve been really stressed out, so it was hard to motivate myself to get up and go to the wedding.  I haven’t been sleeping well, and the fatigue and weakness have been really bad lately.  And depression makes me want to just stay in bed all day.  But another campaign friend, Holly (not pictured), was coming to pick me up, so I dragged myself out of bed, got dressed, did my hair.

On the campaign I’ve been working on, I often feel left out because if my disability.  It’s never intentional–it’s just that so much of it involves people being on their feet, and I’m unintentionally excluded because I have to go sit down somewhere.  Even if it’s physically close to everyone else, I’m literally not on their eye level, so people don’t talk to me.  It feels like I literally become invisible.  No one does it on purpose, but it still happens and it still hurts.  So I was kind of expecting that to happen again.

But it didn’t, at all.  Maybe it’s because the group from the 2012 campaign is much older than the people on my current campaign, so they sit down and talk more.  I don’t know, but I never felt excluded.  There was a three-hour window between the wedding and the reception, and Holly (my ride) went to visit some friends nearby.  I got a ride and hung out with Larry and his wife Judy.  He’s one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet.  I’d never met his wife before, but she is incredibly sweet too.  I got to hear about their kids and grandkids, we went to the Bridge of Flowers (you can see my photos here), and wandered around the town.  As they were leaving the reception, she even told me to email them and tell them how I’m doing, which I thought was very sweet.

And Jenny even made sure I had food I could eat.  She’d picked a couple of things specifically with me in mind because she knows how limited my diet is.  That felt really good.  It means a lot to know that someone cared enough to remember that and to accommodate my need, especially when she was planning her wedding and dealing with all the details and stresses of that.  Kind of a contrast to the non-rehearsal dinner my mom planned for the night before my sister’s wedding, where there was literally nothing I could eat.  It’s just nice to have someone hold me in mind like that.

I was happy the entire day.  I honestly cannot remember the last time that happened.

Then, on the way home, Holly and I were talking, and somehow it came up in the conversation that her father had sexually abused her.  We ended up having a whole long conversation about that, and it was surprisingly not at all awkward or embarrassing.  I mean, we didn’t talk details or anything, but still.  I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation about my trauma stuff that didn’t make me want to vomit and hide.

So really good day.  The only annoyance was that my phone died right before the reception, so I don’t have any pictures of the group or of me all dressed up.  (Side note: whenever my sister gets her wedding photos back, I’ll post some of those.  I wore the same dress.)

Oh!  And a hilarious thing you guys will probably appreciate: when I was switching my stuff from my casual purse to my dressy purse, I apparently missed grabbing my keys, so I got home tonight to find I was locked out.  I have a temporary roommate (complicated story) who has the spare but hasn’t moved in yet, my landlady’s in Maine until tomorrow night, and my cell was dead.  And I REALLY needed to pee. 

I took my shoes off and ran around to the back door, even though I was certain it was locked.  (We never even use that door.)  It was indeed locked, so I considered peeing in the backyard.  My landlady has some high shrubs, so I could probably do it fairly discreetly.  (Men are much better equipped for discreet outdoor peeing.)

Then I realized I still have my window unit in my bedroom window.  So I opened the window from the outside, pulled this heavy, dust-coated window unit out, and crawled in through my very dirty window.  Luckily, my dress was satin, so it was easy to wipe the dust off.  Also luckily, no one saw me doing this and called the cops to report a burglar.  I imagine it would’ve been a pretty funny sight if anyone had been around to see it, but I figured you guys could get a vicarious kick out of it.


that black forest

Well, I have a roommate for two weeks, so I guess that’s something.  Two weeks to find somebody else.  Or she might stay long-term.  Everything is still up in the air and unclear, and that makes me so anxious it feels unbearable.

And I’m sick.  I’m hoping it’s just a bad cold, but I just started feeling bad last night, and it’s already moved into my chest.  I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept waking up coughing and wheezing.  And OF COURSE it would happen on a Friday night, when I can’t get in to see my GP until next week.  We’re doing a Get Out the Vote (GOTV) dry run today, and tomorrow I’m going to be at a wedding all day.  Then next week is GOTV insanity, and I’m a staging location director.  I really do not have time to be sick right now.  I should probably try to get in to see my GP on Monday, but I don’t know how I’ll be able to get there.  It’s just that with my history of asthma, respiratory infections get really bad for me.  I’ve ended up in the ER having breathing treatments more than once.

I just…I don’t even know why I’m still alive.  This is my life now: constantly sick, constantly stressed to the max because there’s never enough money to cover even the basics, always one minor disaster away from being homeless.  People did not evolve to live with constant stress like this.  We evolved to deal with stress in short bursts–to escape from the saber-tooth tiger trying to maul us in the dark, and then to return to the safety of our village and the warmth of our fire.  We did not evolve to be mauled by the tiger and to have no village and no fire to return and no sense of underlying safety when the tigers aren’t around.

I just don’t know how to do this.  There’s just never enough to survive, but people keep telling me I’m obligated to survive.  What no one tells me is how.

I’m not sure I even want to keep fighting to survive anymore.

I mean, let’s face it.  Even if someone provided for all my physical needs, I still wouldn’t work right.  I’d still shit myself and shit the bed and shit blood.  I’d still not be able to stand or walk like most people.  I’d still be crazy.  I still wouldn’t be able to get or keep a normal job.  I still wouldn’t have friends or a support system.

So maybe I really would just be better off dead.

Maybe that’s just the hopelessness talking, though.  Maybe I’d be much more emotionally equipped to deal with my illness and disability if I weren’t constantly worried about how to meet my basic needs.

Then again, I guess it doesn’t really matter because no one is going to take care of my needs for me.  Nobody is going to save me, and I can’t save myself anymore.

I’m almost out of time.


I don’t know how I’m going to get through the night.  I want to, but.

I’ve been trying so hard to hold everything together and be okay because I really wanted to but I just can’t anymore.  I feel like it’s me against a world that thinks I’m worthless and useless and wants me dead.  I feel like my inability to handle normal life is the universe’s way of telling me that I was never supposed to survive to adulthood anyway.  And I know that stuff doesn’t make sense but.

I want to find how to survive but how do I even do that?  What is left that I haven’t tried?

If someone could just give me realistic hope that things could actually improve, then I think I could be okay.  And I don’t just mean, “Oh, things will get better, nothing is permanent.”  I mean like, “Here, this is how you can pay your rent and this is how you can pay for groceries and here is a way for you to get around to places and here is a decent therapist and here is a doctor who’s actually going to take your physical issues seriously and do hir very best to help.”  And like I can’t decide if I’m just asking for way way way more than I’m entitled to or if I really do deserve this stuff.  I mean, my instinct says it’s reasonable because I’d never tell another person that those were unreasonable needs but if they’re reasonable then why are all the people and agencies who say they’re helping refusing to give me any of it?  Maybe they’re right and I’m just a worthless drain on resources who should be dead because the world would be better off without one more useless bloodsucker.  But if that’s true, then how come if I told them I think I should be dead, how come they would insist on saving me but then refuse me any substantial help?  They’d just force all these things down my throat and call them Help but really you’re just force feeding me shit and making me sicker until I die.

I can’t make anything make sense in my head and I’m not at all sure I’m making any sense here.  Sorry.  Sorry.  Sorry.

Please don’t anybody call the cops on me or anything.  I haven’t done anything to myself and I don’t have means or solid intent.  I mean I’m probably gonna drink the mini bottle of wine my sister gave me even though I don’t like wine and it could make me sick because of the UC but it’s not gonna kill me.  And maybe if I get sick and go to the ER someone will actually care about me.  Lol who r u kidding, they’re not gonna give a shit but keep dreaming I guess.

But I’m trying, I’m actually really trying but I can’t do this anymore not alone so what do I do when no one will help?

I can’t care anymore.

I give up.  I can’t care anymore about all the stuff that’s stressing me out.  I have nothing left.


If I keep searching through Craigslist ads and emailing people who never email me back, I will well and truly lose it.  So I’m done.  I have no fucking clue how I’m going to pay rent this month, but I’m done.  I mean, I’m literally shitting myself from stress.  I can’t do it anymore.

It’s this or kill myself so I guess this is better or something?