"For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand."

I'm struggling so much between sadness and wanting so hard to hope. I really think if things were going to happen, they'd have started to happen.  I'd be hearing from someone, a counselor or social worker or advocate, by now.  And yet nothing.  I just struggle to believe it is at all possible.  Then I look at all the reasons I finally have to want to live and the hopes and dreams I was forming, and I get so frustrated. And sad. Ineffably sad.

Then I walk the dogs past all the other sufferers and just don't know what to hope for. There's so many of us. 

This morning my ostomy leaked and I had to clean the mess up with wet wipes. No jumping in the shower.  Fortunately nothing on any clothing or bedding but that can also happen and a tee shirt was ruined recently. It's gotten worse since I stopped eating and became unimpacted.  Twice a day a mudslide tries to make me shudder in disgust. or maybe slide under the appliance and make problems.

Is this reason enough to feellike I deserve somehow to have plumbing more than someone else?  Or do the others here not want? Or is it just impossible? 

I was thinking, imagine me trying to go into ... Uhm, where do they have showers? I think it's 3 miles uphill past the freeway, a rec center with a locker room format.  Now how is that going to help me with a belly full of shit to clean?

Or get this image.  Me, out there with a backpack of colostomy supplies and whatever I can carry left of my life.  It's stolen, of course, and then I have a burst at 3 or 4 am, the favourite time of my ostomy's mischief.  Ok, so there's me with a loaded colostomy bag slipping off my belly, hanging on by a thread, poop leaking out into my lap, at 4 am on a sidewalk, and someone stole my stuff, because of course they did.

Now, what shall I do? Is this a scene I should be facing? I'm traumatised about leaks when I have a clean sanitary private bathroom in my private home.  Nevermind if I was out there on the street at 4 am freezing cold in layers of clothing.  I expect I would just try to disassociate as completely as possible and ignore it. Let it coat my clothes and become the shit man. 

Like, No.

No, I really use that image to help me stay the course.

I've lost weight sure enough.  Measured in at 127 this afternoon. FRom a high of 152 late last november.  So well, it's working.

I do not know what the blood test will show.  It may make a liar out of me in front of the doctor if my supplemental food management is working well enough.  The gelatin. The chocolate, the coconut water, seaweed, salt,etc.  I think I went over it last post. I can't have anything not in the house now until next wednesday when money comes out.  not much but it'll allow me to have a cheat day and also buy more dog food.  I've had to cut them back, poor things.  I'm supplementing with lard and coconut oil (sometimes I have a bit of the latter myself in my lemon water.) 

I did make it to the lifelabs. Having it so conveniently close removed a barrier making it more accessible just for that.  Then having it be a sunny day and benches right outside the window removed the worst barrier, a crowded waiting room.  With those two differences, I could achieve the task.  

See, for me, function is about how how much weight I'm carrying.  How many deterrents I'm facing. I can overcome some, but not all.

Well, anyway, I keep having to remember how short my life is now.  I think about how I'd like to make things when I get a kitchen then remember I'm likely never going to eat again, cook again, have a kitchen.

I pet the dog and think how much healthier she is and get sad that both dogs will be in the care of less capable hands but I can't care for them  from the street anyway.  Either way, they lose.  And I get sad.  I admire the beauty of this place and wonder at how grateful I am to be here, and then get sad I can't live here, still, after all these years.  I've been trying to live here since I left home and it's only ever rejected me or been unreachable. Then I'm sad again. Because this time, I can't go back to anywhere. This time, it's the end of my road. I can't swim, I must sink.  I can't thrive, I must die. 

I had so much to offer and yet nobody paid attention or thought twice about if I was any use.  unless you count the abusers.

I get calm, I start to cheer up, then I remember and get sad again. Back and forth.

The sleeping and resting is still challenging. I spend 4-6 hours tossing and turning, legs jerking and even galloping  and drumming at times. Trying to sleep. Getting up to pee, or deal with my colostomy.  It's so tiresome. I just keep reminding myself, it's only another 10 wks.Or maybe only 9.  Just a while.  Just a bit.  Dying hurts, no way around it, it's just what flavour of hurts you're going to take.  This is familiar to me. Hunger, body pains, lonliness and sadness, been here before, more than once. So I can navigate this one. 

Remember, I almost died in 2015 already.  I certainly came quite close. If I hadn't gotten mad at dan and told him off for neglecting me, I would have. This time I intend to do no such thing. I intend to try and let severe malnutrition cause heart attack or stroke, or if it takes out my kidney first, I will use the CO solution, easy since I use propane for so much. The propane cookstove will easily set off my alarm if I use it inside, I need to use it in the back with open windows or outside. So that's all I need to expire, and first to remove the pets because it's not fair to them.

So, when March comes around and I"m still getting empty promises I have my plan in hand.  I don't need to plan it to a date or time, I know I could overshoot april 1st by a week or two before the district acted. Better for Dan to save my stuff if I signed it over early, but then OTOH, kind of a nice slap in his face if he has to scramble or even can't save it in time and it goes off to auction.  Probably would. They'd redistribute it.  He'd live on top of it letting filth destroy it all. He's a dirty boi.

And him not getting anything is kind of ... Justice. 

Right, ok, not going to dispose of my assets in a timely or tidy manner, going to leave confusion and trouble in my wake.  Sounds great. 

Then that seed of hope rears it's head "it's not even friday, let the first week pass at least before you declare it dead!"  Then I think, well, maybe I should be hopeful till... When? The 15th? The end of this month?  Middle of next?  When? For what? I know there's no housing I can afford.  They give me 685 which will shrink to 610 when I get housed.  The housing allowance, for utilities and rent, is $500.  you couldn't get a garage in bumfuck saskatchewan for that amount. What are they thinking? Where are they getting these numbers?  1998?

How do I live on 1110/mth, utilities, rent, car, food?

Oh and have you heard how the dental works? The coverage is actually a 30% discount to a max of $1000/2 yrs.  not the whole 1000 unless you spend over 2k.  I can't get a $100 cleaning unless i have $70 to pony up for it. 

Another good reason to avoid my future, nes c'est pas? My teeth have been getting cracked from all the unconscious grinding in response to all the worry. I can't even afford to have them pulled.

So well, when I do buy myself food, better damn believe it's going to be creampuffs and chocolates and whatever protien they sell, which always winds up cheese as they don't portion out small enough poutry meats or eggs here.  The only place i tolerate sugar is in the pastries and chocolates and that's the cheat day only.  So no sushi, no buns, no potatoes or bread coatings, etc.  Rules out most of the ready to eat foods out there.

This is another issue, isn't it?  Not just the horrible ostomy. Not just the various chronic pains.Not just the mental torture of being a perma persona non gratis. Not just the discomfort I'm already facing plus possible worse. Not just the abuser I can't escape. 

I can't eat most of the food out there. Most of it. I can't just go to a restaurant. I can't grab from the deli counter or the freezer aisle. I can't pick the cheap one. 

I have to have organic. Keto/low carb. Low fiber. No mammals (that one is just ick factor, the stuff stinks after years off it) and I can't trust anyone else.  Oh, and not a trace of alcohol. Not any. No, not even 1%.  I  warn you, it may not even let me turn my head away from the table when my stomach returns it.  Oh, and the calciferous veggies. Not just the fiber, but a whole family of windy veggies, the cheap common ones like broccoli and cabbage. Nopers.  Plus the skins. Oh god the fucking skins.  Peel me a grape or forget it.  Tomato skins, peach skins, pear and apple skins, raisins, popcorn, celery and grapes, small seeds, coarse ground nuts and on and on it goes, the things I cannot eat, the list it grows and grows.  I daren't trust anyone with this menu.  Either ignorance or hatred could send me into a world of pain for days and possibly a burst colon.  So that too is depressing as fuck.

But oh the things i can cook still.  Give me a bag of organic flour and watch me play. 

In a kitchen. Not in this bus. I really expected to set up an outdoor kitchen and never expected to be stuck on  a busy sidewalk well policed against camping accountrement.  It's too cramped and too hard to clean besides.

I mean, none of these things individually matter.  Even the extreme fear of asking at desks, or the isolation and inability to cross over it,  I can take those.  I can't live with each of these things individually and even a few of them.

I can't do the whole thing, plus unsheltered or handed over to Dan to resume his nastiness now i have no power left.

Oh he would. He might even finally start hitting me.  "You want to be a man?? well men get hit, better get used to it"  

Honestly,  I saw it in his eyes a few times. He is capable of it. He's been inhibited because I owned the house, held all the accounts to all the utilities, including his phone, and at one point, one of his vehicles.  He knew I wouldn't abuse the power, but that I also could use it to retaliate if he crossed that line.   Handing over my bus, and therefor it's contents, to him, is asking for trouble. I just know it. I don't need to read back in this blog to know it. I just can't do that.

I would rather die.

I don't think the nurse practitioner believes me, actually.  No, I don't.  I haven't a clue if the blood test will show anything. It might.  It's supposed to, but since so far it's my fat I've burned, and I"ve supplemented so much, I can't say for sure if it will. 

I mean, the whole thing is preposterous.  what do you mean you've stopped eating and won't again except you ARE eating, but this  weird list, and it's all kind of too much info at once. 

So I don't think he has put in for a counselor or a social worker. I think he's waiting to see if I'm telling the truth and how long I last.  I think that stalling is why they'll never come through in time.

Yeah, which helps motivate me to follow this new plan of action of one cheat day per week so I can keep myself on track. Last ten days was embarassing. I almost ate daily. I almost met my daily resting quota onmost of those days and on one, definitely exeeeded it. What's more, it got harder in the following days  to cope with the cravings after having had tasty things the days before. I craved chips for five days after that stack of lays.  Chips are definitely not on the menu. I only bought them in desperation as a facsimile for protien and a christmas dinner. Chicken flavour. Not quite roast turkey, LOL, but it was late on the 24th and no chance in hell of getting anything anywhere else.

That creampuff from golestan bakery near here was memorable but it also tasted cheap and I had worse lungs the day after. But I crave it now, like the other things I eat with carbs in them.

The purdy's chocolates seem gentle on my system and the cravings aren't as bad, although they're persistent. But that's the better route if I"m buying sweet chocolate. I'm considering if that's the right choice, though. What if I took the same $ to the bulk barn? But of course I need to go with less calories, more organic. Well, I'm hungry and fantasizing but it's going to be a week of gelatin and seaweed now. Unless someone shows up at my door with something tempting.  Not gonna happen, LOL

Nope. No rescue likely. Just a few weeks of knitting and spinning and whining and waiting.a