New Service Dog Needed

The complex got a new Pest Control company. The last company knew not to knock on my door because of PTSD. Management is EXCELLENT understanding and accommodating my PTSD, including calling me before sending maintenance over. The knock on my door, a simple freaking knock on my door, brought back a myriad of horrific terrors. Just like that.

A single sound, smell, touch can fuel PTSD just like that. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and I can't stop catastrophising. I want Xanax. I seriously want Xanax.

My Jireh's bark is vicious, which comforts me knowing she scares people away. I am in the process of, well, I have been seriously considering setting up a GoFund me page to start raising money for a puppy golden retriever to train for after Jireh retires. Then, I had second thoughts, thinking when Jireh and Addy pass away, I will just stay in bed, writing, praying, and reading.

Before this, I contacted a breeder from my home town who I instantly connected to after seeing videos of her puppies, environment, and hearing Christian music in the background. She answered every question to my liking (tests goldens require, number of times they breed a female - I HATE WHEN PEOPLE BREED FEMALES MANY TIMES! POOR DOGS!, etc.). She truly cares for the dogs. That makes me feel like charging $1800 per puppy is reasonable. When she told me her husband is a Pastor, so she couldn't negotiate the price... I knew if God provides me the money, this family deserves the money.

So after I was just sent into A MAJOR PTSD MELTDOWN, I know I need a puppy. My vet will cover expenses (except for medications) after the puppy turns 6 mths old, which is how I afford to keep Jireh as a service dog. I will just have to pay for initial shots and get the puppy fixed. So here goes... watch how God works as I ask strangers (readers of my social media) to help me raise $2200 for a puppy who will help me keep my independence, helping me when I fall, when I have anxiety, depression, agoraphobia and even the times I get so depression, I feel I have nothing to live for. Watch God perform His miracles!

Disabilities, Sexual Abuse, and Church

After a great Saturday with a friend, and a social detox day yesterday, I woke up clinically depressed. Depression is like that- showing up out of nowhere. Let me add my left side was hurting last night due to Cerebral Palsy,  so I took a couple muscle relaxants before bed. This led to vivid nightmares of the sexual abuse I experienced in 2010… and, I woke up like this. Cerebral Palsy, sexual abuse, PTSD, now severe depression. I don’t dare eat because my Crohn’s will flare up. Welcome to my life.
There are so many directions I could take this entry… since I am still reeling from the Matt Lauer falling from sexual abuse, I will go that way. While it is refreshing to finally see women speaking up, hearing incidents triggers PTSD.  Sexual abuse happens in churches, too. Here is a recount of my experience-

The church conspired with my mom to institutionalize me. Sent the cops to come get me... the cops said "we can't take you... you're smarter than we are!". The bad part was she got all my friends to believe I was an incompetent drug addict. So I pushed everyone away. Meanwhile, my landlord  (who also attended the church), wouldn't fix my heat unless I gave him oral sex. I refused, and reported him to my pastor. My pastor talked to the landlord who admitted everything, saying he was sexually attracted to me and didn't trust himself alone with me. My pastor told me not to worry about it.  I left everything behind and lived in my car at the rest area. I had been going to him for pastoral counseling for Xanax addiction, and he said he was addicted to pornography and told me all about that and sex with his wife... so two different men from my church were being sexually inappropriate with me while conspiring with my mom and friends to institutionalize me. Was I crazy?

I lost everything except Jesus. 
I don’t go to church anymore.

I have a firm understanding of the Bible, spending an average of 4 to 6 hours of Quiet Time per day. Jesus is very present to me, and I survive, spiritually growing, by being in solitude with the Holy Spirit... fellowshipping with a few friends. Basically, I live like a nun. I am going to be with Him now to cry out to my Prince of Peace... He is waiting.

In Between

Outsiders think people living on SSDI have it made by not having to work and still getting a monthly income. After all, we don’t have to listen to a boss or spend most of our time doing jobs we don’t want to do.

Qualifying for SSDI can take years due to the number of people who try cheating the system. Between paper work and doctors appointments, the process is tedious enough without having an illness. Going through the process will make a sane person crazy! Once you finally receive the award letter,  it`s like winning the lottery! Finally, someone believes you’re too sick to work. Admittedly, though,  you have to swallow your pride, too, realizing your fate.

Well, my mind and body cannot seem to cooperate. When my mind is clear, my Crohn’s Disease keeps me constrained to my bathroom,  or my muscles are aching from aging with Cerebral Palsy, or I am having trouble catching my breath due to Asthma.

On the rare occasions when I can physically function, I am afraid to leave my home due to PTSD, Agoraphobia, and  Anxiety. Or I can’t get out of bed due to Major Clinical Depression.  Definitely not the “lucky life” other’s think I have.

So I am writing a couple books in hopes of earning enough money to have a better quality of life. I wrote a children’s book series called, Dillon and Friends, which was published several years ago. Those quarterly commission checks are a beautiful sight in my mailbox.

As long as you are breathing, you still have work to do here on earth. I guess you could say I am in between jobs. Not quite sure what I should be doing.  But there is still work to do.

Anxiety Obstacles

For some reason,  I cannot write today.  My spasticity is keeping me from legible handwriting. Something is wrong. Not only that, I am dripping with anxiety. Paralyzing anxiety. Feeling like I need to crawl out of my skin. Very uncomfortable considering writing is my career. I cannot lose my abilities.  Scares me.
But I am trusting God, fighting these additional hurdles. He is a lamp unto my feet and my Guide throughout this journey.  So many people and circumstances will try to stop you from reaching your full potential- don’t let them. The world needs your gifts and talents. The world needs YOU.

Let me explain what anxiety feels like (since I  am in the middle of an anxiety attack). These symptoms vary from person to person,  even from situation to situation. This is what I am feeling right now.  I’m scared, yet unsure of what  I fear. My heart is racing, stomach is churning and extremities are twitching. I’m writing this on my tablet where I am covered with blankets and my Golden Retriever at my feet. I lived in a couple shady places ten years ago,  which is where my PTSD stems from. During those times, I was completely alone with no one to talk with about my fears. I find myself in a similar situation regarding friendships.

Who knows why we go through such hardships? The answer is far beyond our comprehension,  and our lives are merely a blip on the infinite screen of life. We must stay the course to make our contribution. Don’t even think of giving up! We become stronger with each challenge defeated, and our confidence significantly increases.

Hang on.  Keep fighting… but don’t you dare quit.