Desperate Days

I know I haven’t written for a while. Too much has been going on. And it has been more than I can take, but I soldier on. The Force is strong in me. Is it May 4th yet? LOL

This past month has been a rollercoaster. and not one I would pay money to ride. And believe me, I’ve been on gnarly coasters and laughed while screaming the whole time. This is not that kind of ride.

The month started with an endoscopy where the doctor found two ulcers. I found out Tuesday this week they were negative of cancer. Pernicious anemia – you’re a bitch and didn’t give me stomach cancer this time but there are no guarantees. Still have to have a colonoscopy, but that’s a bit more complicates when your house is a ’99 Cutlass.

Another appointment with UCSF detuned the therapy I need and that I don’t have Pseudo-Bulbar Affect, but clarified I do need mental health therapy and medication for extreme anxiety and PTSD. The last 2 years alone would have put me in that spectrum, but being abandoned, harassed, or accused of things I didn’t do certainly didn’t help. Being made homeless 7 days after diagnosis wasn’t great. Being harangued for hours 6 days after initial diagnosis causing me to go to ER, didn’t help either. I get emotional. I’m sorry. My brain broke when I had the stroke and my ironclad tower of ice melted. I’m a human slushy now.f

Myrna thinks I have cognitive dissonance. Amanda thinks I’m critical of her parenting and wanting to destroy her happiness. Chris thinks I’m mean and selfish. I’ve never put myself first, above anyone else, or have been intentionally mean. I didn’t toot my own horn, just lived my life in the Lord’s Grace but didn’t wear it like a badge of honor or a shield against foes. What would Jesus do was more than a bumper sticker for me. It was my silent mantra. Why I never adopted the Faith’s of either husband. Didn’t convert to Islam or Buddhism as either expected. I had my beliefs and I followed them. Besides. I read up.on their’s and knew, appreciated the nuances, more than they did. Knew where they failed in their faith’s too. Especially Buddhism. Wonderful faith, jacked up believer. And he didn’t need me to prove he was a good Buddhist. Poppycock.

I have more love in my life now then I ever did with either husband – and the source of that love is my gay BFF Will. You know what they say girls, the good ones are either married or gay, and he’s been both. He came out after his mom died in 2014. He was married to a lesbian for over 15 years and had a stepson. But, honey, he’s free to be OUT, LOUD and PROUD! I think it’s adorable. But shit, he’s sexy as f*ck.

He gives great hugs. Holds me when I cry. Tucks my hand in the crook of his arm when we’re walking. Gives me kisses just because he thinks I’m adorable. Tells me he loves me for no reason or he may have done something I raise an eyebrow over. Holds me when I fall asleep. Compliments me when there is nothing to be complimentary about. Let’s just say he feeds my tattered ego left decimated by a boyfriend that found DD’s more to his fetish, a husband who complained how I was too warm to sleep next too and I snored disturbing his sleep, and the 1st husband who complained that I just didn’t please him (name the category I sucked in), or the countless other men I attempted to date, did date, wanted to date, but I didn’t have big boobs, I was too smart, I was boring, I didn’t put out on the first date, I wasn’t kinky/not kinky enough/not into that kind, I was a goody two shoes, the list goes on and is even more depressing.

Will is almost perfect, but he’s a “functional” alcoholic, has ADHD (oooooo, butterfly or something shiny! Glitter!), PTSD, spinal stenosis and prostate cancer. You think I’m worried. Nope. I’m petrified.

I can’t loose Will. Not my trophy husband. He’s almost perfect, if you ignore the “coitus” thing. Sorry, I couldn’t think of a more genteel way of putting it. Worse? Oh yeah! I know Will would have some choice words. He’s quick with a quip. He even helps me with speech therapy. He has the gift of gab as I once did..We were in complimentary business’s before the Big Short as my friend Mark calls it.

Hey Mark! Great podcast.

Check it out, and he does a great Lt. Frank impersonation and Captain America. Check out his Heroteer link. He’s awesome! Way to go Cap! You’re MY hero.

So Will is in the mix, and since I walk in God’s Grace, I’m Will’s Grace, or Will & Grace 2.0. Plus a furry sidekick named Andy.

My Dads middle name was William. His nickname was Andy. I’ll take it as a sign from him and that he approves. Or Will’s Mom, Dorothy, came across Dad while on a leisurely stroll and they put us together. Dad would’ve enjoyed an intelligent and funny woman, and Dorothy would have enjoyed a gentlemen and Ship’s Captain to have thoughtful conversations with and dance the night away in their finest. They would have made a handsome couple!

At least, that’s what Will and I think. I had a great Dad. He had a great Mom. His Dad and my Mom sucked donkey balls, so the image of Dorothy and Aksel gives us joy. We need a little of that.

Then there’s Matt, our amazing 3rd Musketeer. Former Roadie and Sound Engineer who knows everyone! Matt and I talk about music alot, because Will knows what he likes, but doesn’t remember names, or bands, or song titles, or eras, or genres. Let’s say we school him quite often. But Will and Matt have shared histories from teendom, having grown up in the same town. Oh, the stories! I got nothing having grown up in the “OC” before Orange County became know as two letters. Or the Housewives of. We were famous because of Disneyland and the Crystal Cathedral, not bitchy housewives too wealthy to complain so damn much. Or silly movies starring Jack Black.

It’s ol’ home week when one of them sees or hears something that enters their memory bank, “Hey Matt/Will! Do you know/remember so-and-so? That was awesome/ weak/ tits/gnarly man!” Almost everyday for the last 6 weeks.

Matt has a heart condition, takes half a dozen meds, has edema and is in jeopardy of loosing his feet if he doesn’t elevate them often enough. I worry. It looks nasty and I’ve had swelling in my feet from not elevating them enough.

I have to wrap this up. It’s 3:40 am, we’re sleeping in the car so no one is laying down but Andy, and I need sleep.

A few things I miss:

My bed with a down comforter and pillows

English muffins

Kraft Macaroni & Cheese

Spam and eggs

Warm soup

Crab Louie


A shot of whiskey and relaxing with TV

Sitting curled up on my couch with a book

Earl Grey hot tea

My toiletries in the same spot am/pm/day

Things I desperately want and need again, but I doubt my homelessness will end soon. No one will help us. We’re not screwed up enough or the wrong age group or both.

More on that later. We do need your help. We’re out of money and out of places to ask.

Please help if you can.

Author: Vykinghart

A divergent catalyst trying to make the world a better place while screaming from a tiny soapbox.

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