City Kitty & Country Pup

The Smoker and I have little nicknames for each other. We call our life together The Tale of City Kitty and Country Pup. The Smoker grew up in a heavily wooded farmland town. Most of his neighbors have horses or chickens. He loves being in the sunshine, reading, hiking and co-existing with the animals. I on the other hand moved to the nearest city at 16, desperate for some excitement and culture. I love museums, art and the anonymity of a city street. I can look anyway I want and more often then not, no one knows me and I like that. 

So we finally moved. City Kitty has found somewhat of a happy medium for Country Pup. We have moved back to my hometown. A small all american town. Some new folks and some familiar faces. Already i am hearing some small town gossip. It makes me nervous. The Smoker seems happy here, and that makes me happy. Our apartment is very nice.

The only real problem so far, my lack of motivation. I have this weird thing about needing to feel 100% comfortable and at home before I can create a significant amount of work. I have made a small handful of rings since we moved. THAT’S IT! So this making me a little nervous. I have been making very little money due to my lack of creativity. This is NOT good. I am hoping over the next week or two I will start to feel more at home and inspired.

I think the issue really is that I am not use to having a second floor. I feel weird about using the bedroom as my office space. And we don’t yet have the funds to refinish my small attic space as my office. (My summer project with my Dad’s assistance.) The upstairs is a little creeky. You can here it through the walls. In a paranoid fear of upsetting my neighbors, I rarely go up there. Stupid I know. But that is just part of my weird agoraphobic anxiety shit. I always fear making waves.

I’m sure things will settle in their own right.

In the meantime I keep debating on whether or not I should start to remove the anonymity of this blog. Any advice would be appreciated on this. Part of me says YES! Just be you! Part of me says are you crazy?!? This whole blog is like 4 years of me with no filter! I have no idea what my decision will be yet.

I had this weird moment with one of my boss/clients where she told me what she thought successful people did or didn’t do. She basicly said I am some sad girl who lives with a rain cloud over my head and I shouldn’t be telling people on any form of social media or in life about my failures. While I think there are certain things that don’t belong on Twitter or Facebook, I also think it is completely ridiculous to pretend that everything in your life goes perfectly and never own up to the failures. She is also one of the people in my old city that used people up and threw them away the second they couldn’t do anything for her anymore. It’s gotten so bad that she now has to hire people from other cities to work for her, she’s run through everyone in her own city. I don’t want to be that kind of business entity.

So things are good. I am just trying to find the comfort and my place in this town. My experiences before I left the city were kind of bad. Left me feeling very uncomfortable with trusting people and being myself. I hope this move will be a transformation of sorts for me. Growing and learning never really stop.

A Life Worth Wasting

Unless you have gone through something similar, for the most part no one knows what I deal with on a day to day basis. Not even The Smoker fully understands and he has been through most of this with me.

At this point I am living for the other people in my life. The infamous group “they” say that suicide is selfish. That it is not an option. You will go to Hell. The torment continues. Is that really true? Is it better that I go on suffering to make life easier for those that are too absorbed with their own pain to deal with someone else’s? 

I live day to day being just miserable. All of the medications I am suppose to be on I have no access to. I am part of the government system. I can’t afford them on my own. No insurance. Medicaid has run out. I don’t have any options left. I am diabetic. I am post Cancer. I had a full hysterectomy because of the Cancer. I have no to very little estrogen in me. My vagina is in constant pain, My body fights me. I can’t take any joy in food anymore, it’s killing me. Literally. I have constant yeast infections. I haven’t had sex with my boyfriend in weeks because it’s too painful for me.  I am at my wits end. 

All of the things in life I love have been taken from me. My hopes and dreams have been taken from me. I am in pain all of the time. But I live. Everyday more angry. Everyday more bitter. I live for these people that would have a few days of sadness and move on with their lives. I live for these people that really don’t understand what I need. 

Christmas just came and left. Everyone knows what I’ve been through. My fucking step mother gave me quite literally a tower of chocolate and sugar for Christmas. I’m fucking diabetic. You clearly did not think about me once during the holiday season and passed off some shit from your office holiday party to me as a gift, knowing full well this shit could kill me. This was what put it in my head.Just end it, no one else cares about your conditions – why should you?

Everyone in this country is a self absorbed piece of crap. Living day to day scrambling to get more shit more more more. Better phone / TV / car. Why live if you can’t have awesome shit. I can’t afford my rent. I got my awesome from Freecycle because I am fucking broke. Pre-cancer I lived in a car with the Smoker for a few weeks. Things were bad. Real bad. Then this Cancer happened. I prayed to God to please give me ten years. Enough time to start a family, make my peace with the people in my life – then I would go peacefully. I just wanted to do the few things I had dreamed of before I left this world. I worked with my oncologist to try and find some way to make it an option to have a baby. 

The hysterectomy came, my hormones went crazy. I went through estrogen withdraw. I felt wrong in my own body. I felt like a guy. An angry crazy guy. Some estrogen therapy helped. But I can no longer do any of that – money. American awesomeness disease. Gotta have gotta have, now now now. 

Somewhere in New Haven there is a lab with my frozen ovaries and uterus. For $7,000 they may be able to produce an egg and impregnate a carrier of my “child”. If I had $7,000 I would have done this. It was my one want in this life. A baby. A family. A home. A real home, not like the shit my mother gave me. 

Currently, I work three day jobs and run a small business on the side where I make and sell my shitty “art”. I barely make $7,000 in 6 months most of the time. This is how I have to live. I can’t work all of the time. But I work as often as I can. I kill myself physically for all of the awesome nothing that I have. Everyone thinks I am so happy. Such an inspiration. That girl, she went through Cancer and she is so strong. I’m not strong. I’m weaker then most of you. Emotionally and physically I have taken on more then I can handle and I want it to stop. Had I known this is what life would have been like for me I would NOT have done chemo or radiation. I would have made my peace with the people in my life then and there and let it go. My life is not better. My fight was not worth the aftermath. I still have nothing, except now I am told I am lazy. No one understands. The second you say Cancer Free people assume everything is all better, back to normal and LEAVE you. No one wants to hear about it anymore. 

In treatment they pump you full of this positivity and false hope. Life is such a precious gift, And it is, for those who have the ability to enjoy it. What they don’t tell you, this precious gift comes at a price. A price that may never go away. Mine never goes away. Shit, they never even bothered to take the port out of my fucking neck. What does that tell you?