Oh shit. Here we go. My apologies in advance. I feel a rant/aggravated long post coming on.
In June of 2021, it will be ten years since I lost Joshua, my second, now-deceased fiance. I took care of both Allen (when I was 21) and Joshua (when I was 30-31) while they were sick. The situation with Joshua may have been harder because he was bullied by local men and got injured in that last year from hard kicks to his diabetic legs. It was gross on several different levels. There was no peace for him and I hated the people who hurt him. Somehow, I stayed in the area for 8.5 years after he died but not without serious personal internal injury.
I finally got married in 2015 and my husband remains among the living (thank God - I CANNOT do it again, not with him). In December of 2017, I finished graduate school and in May of 2019, we left that tiny part of America and I started trying to put a career together, mostly with volunteering but I was working at a low-level job. I had a lot of coworkers that I got along with which was all new awesome for me. About 3 months later, I tore both of my hip labrums and wound up suffering several other related injuries. I dragged my ass to work, regardless, until I became a covid layoff about 11 months later.
We moved a bunch after that and landed in rural New Mexico where my husband is rocking being a new teacher and is pretty damned busy with less time for me. I am unlikely to make a full physical recovery, though most of my cPTSD symptoms are pretty alright. 15 months later, my pain level is often very high and some of the nerves in my legs remain compressed, causing numbness and poor muscle engagement when I walk. Despite my strong desire to call working in the public a good sign of my recovery from PTSD, my short-lived days of working in the public are over, at least for now.
I've done a lot of research, a lot of soul-searching, mind-changing, a lot of crying, and a lot of just being really pissed off because realistically, my goal was to work in the public. I really didn't care if I was at a shitty job: I don't like being isolated. I worked hard to get to the point with my cPTSD where I could work with others, just to end up dragging my cane and heating pad to work every day, to fight with severe pain, and to be given pain medication that made me mouthy and less able to work with others. Not being able to reposition myself over and over throughout the day is a problem for me right now and because I am only just now learning to pay attention to what my body is telling me, I feel like having someone else's schedule over me is going to result in problems. And then there is the virus: if I am exposed, I will most likely catch it and because I have upper respiratory issues, I really don't want to.
And so, I am back to the drawing board. I still have my husband, so I have not lost all, recently. But this is my only community - I know no one in NM and my family situation has reached levels of bewildering that I can do nothing with. My work situation needs to be rehabbed, my body is a mess, the RV I live in is butt-ass cold, we cracked our shower pan, and screw this broke-ass shit. I need to make some money.
I am a grant writing volunteer. I hope to one day make some money doing that but ....(insert 50 pages here)....
I am currently looking for a remote volunteer tutoring position to get me past my video conferencing phobia. If I am qualified to do any job from home right now, tutoring academic writing would be the one. But I have avoided this because I HATE having a camera in my face. Oh well to that. It seems to be my best option.
Honestly? I wish I would have dragged Joshua out of central Oregon before he got kicked. When it all came down, it was my trauma over what happened to Joshua that caused me to injure myself. I couldn't relax. I couldn't stop running - I couldn't sit down. The next thing I knew, I had no choice. I didn't fall from a ladder or get hit by a car -- I tore the cartilage around my hips by being on my feet 14 hours a day during my escape from central Oregon after I confronted the man who kicked Joshua. I had a flashback when one of his wife's buddies slapped my husband in the head. -- No more Podunk for me, ladies. I was not entirely afraid of him but I was very much not alright, not sleeping, not thinking clearly.
EMDR prior to the escape would have been fabulous but I'd been under a rock for so long, I'd never heard of it until last year.
What now???
I wait. If I don't hear from a place that needs a volunteer tutor today, I will look more tomorrow. I need less time on my hands, like immediately.
After my husband finishes his teaching license, we're going back to central Oregon, but not quite to the area we were in. I get along with his family and they are all in central Oregon. Both of our mothers are there.
Long before then, I really, really want to be settled in a position/career/self-employment situation that is sustainable in whatever situation I am in at the time.
I also want to be on top of my own physical rehabilitation. I cannot have a physical therapist for the rest of my life.
Thoughts???
I has many.
It's hard. I don't have the resilience I used to have AND I am still f*cked up from the potholes I thought I passed over a decade ago or longer.
Grrr....
On the upside, my new copy of The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People just arrived,
@Friday. Thank you for that suggestion. I am hoping it will pull me out of this shitty mood.
