|Warning! This post is filled with curse words and otherwise offensive content.
So my landlord decided to not let us renew our lease, because apparently we were supposed to read her mind and just know the exact level of anal retentiveness she expected with regards to the yards, because tenants are defactor landscapers or something, and even though the only thing she expressed was to water and mow the lawns, which we’ve done, and apparently that wasn’t good enough, not that we had any warning regarding this complete and total lack of proper communication on her part. We’re broke as shit and have 2 months to find a new place, and since my diagnosis we’ve been evicted and filed bankruptcy, which means that if we’re going to find a landlord willing to take us (and almost undoubtedly said landlord will have to be the caliber of crazy as the current one, because that’s just my luck), and the only place to find such rentals is Craigslist. So, apparently in Denver and LA I now know for certain, at least 90% of the ads on craigslist for rentals are actually scams. In Phoenix, almost zero housing scams, and you’d think it’s because Phoenix is so shitty that no one would possibly want to live there, but eerily it’s the opposite. Phoenix was growing so quickly that the housing market decided to try to get ahead of the population boom so they built houses like gangbusters, and since everyone and they’s mama’s dog could get housing loans back then, they were snatching them up quicker than they could build them for a while, (some of them even smart enough to sell their crappy old house in the ghetto for 2 or 3 times its value to buy a nice new one not in the ghetto…but not many people were that smart), which brought even MORE developers and more new houses being built, but they literally couldn’t build them fast enough so then like a totes redique number of apartment complexes, no matter how shitty or how ghetto the neighborhood decided screw this rent noise, let’s just turn them into condos and sell them! Unfortunately for them, not a lot of people were willing to buy a shitass 1 bdrm apartment for $150,000, so they were just having to keep a bunch of them vacant because they had them slated to sell, some kind of bullshit city tax business. So anyway, it was pretty hard finding an apartment there for a while but fortunately I lived in LA where finding an apartment is fairly easy if you’ve got about $2k/mo to devote to rent and don’t mind a 2hr commute one way (and if you think you’re getting bent over a barrel by the rent, wait til they tell you that you have to buy your own fridge).
Anyway, housing bubble burst, tons of people in Phoenix lost their brand new houses and anyone with a house lost a whooole lot of equity overnight so they weren’t about to leave. With all the empty houses people just started renting them out and all the sad families who lost their houses happily moved into a brand new rental house that their kids could destroy to their little hearts’ content and the parents would only be out a stupid deposit, so big win win there. Meanwhile…still no one bought any condos, and by the time they converted them back from condos to regular rentals, they pretty much had to lower their standards because everyone was in foreclosure and bankruptcy. Unfortunately this meant they still could jack up their prices, because people gotta live somewhere. Fortunately though, Phoenix rent was never too high to begin with. And, still and yet, it’s damn easy to find a place to live there, even with bad credit.
In LA, there are scams because of the aforementioned totes redique rental prices, so they post something in a so so neighborhood with plausibly lowish rent and scam away. I’m sure they have many many marks, because LA people think they’re savvy, but most of them have their heads so far up their asses it’s a bit difficult to be anything but a goddamn, shit eating moron.
Turns out in Denver, the population is also exploding, lucky me, only Denver’s all like “if we build too many houses and apartments it’ll like, ruin the natural splendor, man. *puff puff*”, and nearby Boulder is all like, “If we build too many houses and apartments it’ll like, feed all them corporate interests, man. *puff puff* Worker’s of the World, unite!” Or is it Dyslexics of the World, Untie!… Anyway, additionally, the population of both cities is exploding with: college students, young professionals, young professionals by day and stupid hipsters by night, and at least 2/3 of those groups have money, little to no debt, and I’d be willing to bet actual money that nearly 100% of them got no kids. So they can afford whatever dumb hipster apartment or house they’d likely tell their friends is “clutch” or “dope”, both words that in no way describe a domicile, but sadly I’ve heard them both used in such a context and can only assume it means…Good?
But wait! Despite all of this, something made apartment/house hunting totally worthwhile today. One of the scams claimed that the house had a fantastic ocean view. And as if that’s not hilarious enough, after laughing so hard I nearly threw up, I managed to say (between giggles and chuckles), “A view so fantastic it can only be found in…The Twilight Zone.” At that point I was feeling about ready to stop trying to kill myself slowly with cigarettes, and instead much more quickly (albeit painfully) by setting myself on fire. So, scammers helped me avoid a wickedly painful demise today.
And if you’re wondering why I keep saying “totes redique”, I saw that on FB today and thought it was…totally rediculous. I unfriended that person. Not so much about the ” totes redique”, more because I never talk to that person and figured now is as good a time as any.
Commenting on this article which is as hilarious as it is infuriating.
I don’t even know where to begin with this article, so I’m just going to dive right in.
This quote: Gallagher could benefit immensely from even a basic understanding of cold reading and mentalism (not part of psychiatry training).
While I’m no psychiatrist, these concepts actually are covered quite extensively in psychological/therapist training, and I’m pretty sure that psychiatrists tend to do undergrad work in psychology, but I could be wrong. I’m sure some med students decide later on to specialize in psychiatry, which I think is pretty ridiculous for very many reasons, most of which because I think psychiatrists should have a very good understanding of therapy before learning the “magic” of psychopharmacology.
The author concludes by saying that if we play into a person’s delusion we’re doing them a disservice by reinforcing the delusion. Wrong!
No, I don’t believe everything a person tells me, but I’m not just humoring them either. I understand that what they’re experiencing is frightening and debilitating, and it’s all too real to them. Our perceptions are just as flawed as our memories. A person who is colorblind will see grey where I see pink. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t seeing grey. We perceive things in vastly different ways, sometimes in a very literal sense because of physiology, other times because our experiences, societal norms, family values and upbringing, have colored our perceptions. I can’t impose my values on someone no matter how much I may believe that theirs are wrong or unhealthy. But I can hope that trust, proper counseling, and application of effective therapies (which definitely does include pharmacological therapies) may help that person to recognize which values and beliefs are healthy, which are benign, and which are decidedly unhealthy.
All that said, I’m definitely never going to write a paper explaining that my clients are definitely being haunted and possessed. That’s taking therapeutic credulity a bit too far. :p
I read the most brilliant article today, and would like to share it, as well as my thoughts concerning its topics, a shortened version of which I left in comment form after the article (with a quite embarrassing typo). Anyone with MS, a disability, or know anyone with such, please read: https://multiplesclerosis.net/living-with-ms/not-born-this-way/
The author, Marc discusses, among other things, personal identity conveyed through fashion, and how it relates to him. For me, it’s only been 4 years since my diagnosis, but to say “only” seems such an understatement. I refer to everything before as My Former Life, because that’s truly how it feels. As far as appearance goes, I was never one to primp or take any extra care in my appearance, but honestly I didn’t really need to. My hair was wash and go, face usually unadorned, and it was fine that way, I certainly was never accused of being plain. My clothing style was always relaxed, but it was a style. I dressed body shape and age appropriately with emphasis on ease and comfort, but also in a flattering manner, a fashion all my own, what my friends and peers believed to be both effortless and brave, as I never spent the money and time they did preparing for the day, and as far as I was concerned the reason I didn’t make much of an effort (or feel brave not doing so) was because I didn’t really care. When I think back now I realize that I did care, just not enough to inconvenience myself, only just enough that I did choose clothes specifically, but only with care at an almost subconscious level, because really it almost WAS effortless for me. It was an afterthought, get dressed and go. All of my clothes were suited to me because I chose them carefully when I shopped, and I did spend much time shopping. Clothes shopping=fun, right? Today, not so much. Not only can I not afford to buy clothes to fit my new frame, but I really wouldn’t have the energy for a shopping excursion. As many women can attest, weight gain and clothes shopping aren’t easy companions, and just the thought of such a trip makes me feel exhausted with nervous anticipation. As such, I own one pair of jeans that fits comfortably but now has a broken zipper, one pair that fits quite uncomfortably, maybe 2 properly fitting shirts, and an assortment of pajama pants that I’ve deemed appropriate for out of the house wear. I wear slippers almost everywhere, especially if it’s a wheelchair day. Why bother with shoes? I’d expend half the day’s energy trying to put the damn things on anyway.
I’ve known for quite a while now that the worst thing about having MS and various other illnesses, it’s not the pain, not the losing of mobility, not the falling down, the slurred words, the fatigue, lack of job and income or the inability to care for myself. No, it’s the losing of my memory. That’s definitely the worst thing. I tried explaining to someone today what it’s like. Supposing someone broke into your house and took one thing. You probably wouldn’t notice, especially if it was something small like a book or DVD, and the only way you could notice that it was gone is if you went looking for that thing, and you might look other places for it because you know you own it but no matter where you look it’s just gone. Now imagine that things start going missing a few at a time, and you don’t really notice at first but then you start realizing that many things that you’ve wanted to retrieve just hadn’t been there lately and you wonder what’s going on, but there’s no explanation for it. Eventually you realize that your shelves and closets and drawers and cupboards are noticeably more bare than they were, that so many things have gone missing now that you can’t even keep track of what you’ve lost. You know it’s all missing, you can see the bare shelves, but there’s no easy way to take stock or inventory of what’s gone. Sometimes maybe you decide to retrieve a book or DVD, but maybe you only recognize it by sight so you rummage through all of your belongings, and best case scenario is that you find it right away, worst case you may search and search and tear your house apart but you just can’t find it anywhere, leaving you frustrated and exhausted, and angry and confused because where the hell is everything?! Now, add another layer, you’ve got a friend over and you decide you want to show them something, but it’s very difficult to describe, so you tell them excitedly that it’s around here somewhere and go on your usual search around the house, telling them you’ll find it, you know it’s there, you’ll definitely find the damn thing, and you start to get frustrated because you JUST saw it so you know it’s there, so your friend awkwardly tries searching for it with you, but since you can’t describe it they’re not sure what they’re looking for and all they do is get in the way, and you both become embarrassed by the whole situation and you finally just decide to drop it but the awkward embarrassment stays for a bit, because your friend reeally doesn’t understand what you’ve been going through as all of your belongings are somehow slipping away a bit at a time.
So now, imagine that your “house” and “belongings” in this situation are your mind and all the memories and contents therein. Imagine having a conversation with someone and visualizing something with a very self explanatory name, like toaster oven or weedeater, and despite the fact that you can see that object clearly and know exactly what it does, you can’t seem to find the name, and so any words associated with the description are also shrouded. If you could describe it in the simplest terms, “makes toast, small oven”, then you’ve found your object’s name or an approximation like “toast oven”. But no, you can’t find either of those words, you frantically try to think of words to describe this thing but when you’re on the spot with a faulty memory retrieval system, it’s that much more difficult to accomplish, and all the while your friend tries to help you by throwing out words, but all that does is confuse you. And it’s not just names of items, it’s names of bands, authors, books, places, names of people you know and people you don’t know but should know their damn names, like your best friend growing up, your favorite actor or musician, or even the friggin president. But it’s not just names, it’s life events, things you’ve done, things you’ve experienced, it’s all slipping away. Some of it may just be a bit hazy, but some of it is just GONE.
I can see all of these things happen to me. I used to have an impeccable memory. I have memories back to at least age 3 and until recently, there were very few gaps. I used to remember almost anything I’ve ever read, anything I’ve researched, anything that was told to me. The only things I was ever very hazy about was math, which has never been my strong suit, and names of people I’ve met but don’t know well. Otherwise I was always the person people came to when they needed information about all manner of trivia, life events, names of actors, matching a song to a band, and in the work setting I was the go-to person for pretty much everything pertaining to our particular work setting. Nowadays, it’s rare to have a conversation without faltering at some point or another because I can’t think of the proper word for something, the name of a person, place or thing, an adjective, an event. Sometimes it’s so difficult to retrieve words that I stammer and stutter just trying to formulate my thoughts into a sentence.
I’ve always prided myself of being able to learn from my experience and knowledge, to apply that information to my life and my actions and use my wealth of knowledge to shape me into a better person. What are we but the sum total of our experiences and knowledge, and how we choose to reflect on those things? As my memory becomes more faulty, I feel as if bits and pieces of me are slowly leaking away, and I can’t help but wonder what will be left. Pain and anger? Frustration? Confusion? Will I be the old (or maybe not so old) lady in the care home who fights her caregivers every step of the way because deep down inside I know that I should be able to do this on my own, because I know that I used to be independent, smart and capable, and now that’s gone and it’s killing me inside.
As these things are happening, as my body deteriorates, my world crumbles all around me and each day is filled with pain, some days I can feel myself screaming inside, like a person trapped, a person lost. Outwardly, and whenever possible inwardly, I try to weather these changes with grace. Even on days when I just want to scream and throw things about the room, I maintain my composure. I’m not trying to stifle my feelings, I process them as they come, but I feel that if I can’t or won’t handle my lot in life gracefully, I’ll lose myself, and really will be nothing but pain and anger, resentment and confusion. I don’t want that for myself and my loved ones.
I’d always told my clients in my counseling days, there are very few things that you can control in your life. You can control what you say and do, and you can control your reactions to things that happen to you. That’s it. So decide who you want to be and control your actions and reactions accordingly. I’m going to follow my own advice for a change. I have to try. I’m 36 years old, and I’m losing my memory, my mobility and my sight, and I do not want these things to change who I am as a person, I must try to take control of those things that I can control for as long as I’m able, because those are my choices. I can deal with this situation to the best of my ability, or I can let my emotions drive my actions, in which case I will likely lose myself completely.
I began watching a documentary today called Doctored. The description states “An investigation into the ‘monopoly’ of the medical industrial complex and how Americans are viewed as patients.” I think to myself, this sounds interesting. I’ve seen many studies regarding how patients are viewed with regards to invisible illnesses (particularly pain) and especially the discrimination toward patients with mental health diagnoses. I have experienced some of these issues firsthand, as I’ve mentioned here in my blog many times, and it’s definitely a big problem. Doctors believe that psychology and psychiatry are simple sciences at best and they have no issue diagnosing and treating psychological issues despite the fact that they have little to no training in the matter. They view counselors as nothing more than a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on, and that they have no time or patience to be that person so they’ll send them off to a counselor or therapist and the patient will have their cry out, or as in the movies they’ll suddenly have this huge cathartic breakthrough and they’re all better. Before that happens, however, they’re treated as a crazy lunatic who can’t tell the difference between pain in their body and pain in their mind, so unless they go have that breakthrough moment and can get off the psych meds (that possibly the doctor has prescribed themselves) then the person is viewed as unreliable, the doctor can’t take any of their self reports at face value, because this is probably just the crazy talking.
So, I start watching this documentary thinking, I may have something to learn here. It begins with scenes from a taped interview in the 80’s of some doctors angrily arguing with some chiropractors about the veracity of their claims to treat illness using chiropractic theory and methods. Sadly, the documentary does not go on to denounce chiropracty for the sham it is, but vilifies all those terrible, haughty doctors who denounced chiropracty for some many years. The documentary tries to say that doctors and the AMA created a smear campaign against these poor chiropractors who were trying so hard to just help people.
I’ve heard time and again that there’s no scientific evidence to support the effectiveness of chiropracty, and I’ve had my own personal negative experiences with chiropractors and chiropractic treatments that I was ready to believe it. But I realized, I’ve never actually done any research into the topic, I’ve mostly used my personal experiences to bolster my belief in this theory. So, as I’m often wont to do, I began doing some research, and amongst the slew of interesting articles that I read, I found one that was particularly interesting. It is a discussion regarding an article that was posted in a journal of chiropractic medicine by a group of chiropractors and doctors stating in no uncertain terms that there is absolutely no proof, nor veracity to the claims, that chiropractic medicine is a viable treatment option. https://www.sciencebasedmedicine.org/the-end-of-chiropractic/
So then I wonder, just as the author of the article wonders, where is the outrage? Where are the multiple exposés denouncing chiropracty for the fraud it’s always been?
This documentary is trying to say that medical professionals tried to suppress the miraculous healing that chiropracty had to offer because they wanted to monopolize the trade of healing and healthcare. In reality, doctors happily send people off the chiropractors who will do little more testing or analysis than xrays, if they’re lucky, and xrays are a terrible way to diagnose soft tissue issues such as disk swelling and annular tears. In fact, if a spinal issue were severe enough to be seen on an xray, a doctor would likely be very involved in the person’s treatment. Scoliosis can appear on an xray, and if it becomes severe enough it requires much medical intervention. But the reason that chiropractors are still so heavily used, the reason so many people are referred to them, is because compared to the cost of definitive medical testing, namely MRIs and the follow up treatment that may need to be required for such health conditions that may be diagnosed as the result, chiropractors are cheap. Insurance companies go to great lengths to insist that people attempt to cure what ails them through inexpensive (to the insurance company) chiropracty before ordering any further tests. This documentary’s opening complaint is that the doctors are trying to force out the chiropractors because they’re elitest and money hungry and can’t fathom the idea of a person being cured elsewhere before they extract their pound of flesh from them. (Well, not literally. Or maybe so, if they’re a surgeon. I dunno.) In any case, the reality is that chiropractors have a huge lobby, and have wormed their way into the healthcare community via the government and insurance companies. I won’t argue that doctors are often very elitest, with an attitude that, if you don’t have a medical degree then you shouldn’t have an opinion, and that definitely has to change, patients should, even MUST, drive their own healthcare, and doctors must let them, and help them. They could start by asking the patient to do their own research, and if patients made the effort they’d soon discover the sham that is chiropracty.
I will conclude by giving my own personal experiences with chiropractors. When my back pain first became so severe that I often found myself crawling on the floor, I finally had an angry discussion with my GP that something must be done. I was informed that I first must see a chiropractor. The chiropractor insisted that within 3 months I would be cured, that it may get worse before it gets better, but it will get better. I saw him twice a week, he applied much pressure in various ways to the area of my back that ached the most. It was excruciatingly painful, leaving me shaking and crying after each “treatment”. The chiropractor told me that I had a low pain tolerance, and that it was probably the biggest reason that I found myself unable to stand up when my back hurt. So in essence, he blamed my severe pain on my inability to tolerate severe pain. Three months went by and my back was worse, but he assured me that another 6 weeks should do the job, and he continued to quote the 6 week mark until I’d been seeing him for 9 months and my back was worse than ever before. Finally my GP was ready to refer me to a pain specialist, who immediately ordered MRIs. It turns out that my previous diagnosis of minor scoliosis (via xray) was actually much more debilitating than initially assumed. My spine had rubbed a bald spot on a disk in my lower back. Every time the chiropractor pressed that area the disk would rupture, and that’s why I was in such excruciating pain and that’s why I got worse with every visit. Still, for some reason I decided to see another chiropractor some years later. He came highly recommended by my brother, who was then a massage therapist in the chiropractor’s office. I met with the chiropractor who assured me that he could cure my scoliosis, if I met with him twice a week for 3 months. I had no intention of living through another nightmare of pain and empty promises. Both chiropractors were also involved in extremely shady practices. One of them did not accept my insurance, instead he told them that I paid exorbitant amounts of money out of pocket, then they decided how much they wanted to reimburse me for those costs and would send me a check, at which time I would sign over the checks to my chiropractor. I’m still not entirely certain whether this was legal. The second chiropractor employed massage therapists who were not yet out of school and therefore not licensed, which is 100% illegal. But it worked out great for him in that none of his therapists could rat him out for any of his shady practices because they’d never become licensed.
I have no doubt that there are honest chiropractors out there, who aren’t shady, who believe they’re helping people, who would report their client’s lack of progress immediately to their GP and insist on further testing, but in my experience, they are just as happy to continue doing what they’re doing in order to continue receiving the paycheck of twice weekly visits from someone who is never going to get better.
For further reading on discrimination perpetuated by the medical community: http://mobile.nytimes.com/2013/08/11/opinion/sunday/when-doctors-discriminate.html?referrer=
My husband bought himself new work shoes yesterday, because his old ones had worn out so badly that he had to wrap gaff tape around them so he could still walk in them for the rest of the day. He said he felt guilty about buying them, because we’re so broke. He works 7 days a week for months on end, no breaks. Then he comes home and takes care of me. I’m extremely high maintenance in that I can’t do my own shopping or pick up my meds from the pharmacy, or prepare food more complicated than cereal or canned soup. I’m stuck in bed all day. I’m fatigued and I hurt all over and the cornucopia of meds I’m taking does little more than take the edge off most of my symptoms. So it’s not as bad as it could be, but still bad.
So, I realized this morning that it’s been too long since I’ve written anything here. My reasons for that are both good and terrible. Short answer, I got a new phone. That may sound like a ridiculous reason to stop posting, but hear me out! On my old phone, I had links to my WordPress account saved in my bookmarks, I click one, it automatically logs me in. Ta da! Technology at its finest. When I got my new phone I was standing at the counter at the phone store and the guy tells me to back up all my info, reset the phone and remove my sd card. Oh no! Backing up my info is something I should’ve done last night! So I quickly did a backup of everything I thought was important, pictures on the SD card, check! Contacts all conveniently attached to a Gmail address, check! Bookmarks attached to Chrome, check! Without thinking to myself, I didn’t always use Chrome. I had manymanymany bookmarks still listed under the Android browser. But, I have MS, my brain doesn’t process as quickly or clearly as it used to. I honestly didn’t even think of all those bookmarks to research I was conducting, and to important sites like, yep, my WordPress account.
I’d say, overall, it wasn’t a bad year for my first public blog. Haven’t posted much in a while as much craziness abounded. My house flooded twice. I’ve been to the hospital a couple times, and otherwise my health has been precarious, especially after a very long drive to east Texas and back. I went a full month without any pain meds, thanks much to the DEA for making sure the pharmacy can’t stock enough to fill demand. Then finally, I’ve moved from the hovel I was renting that seems to think rain goes into the house, not outside. Soo…it’s been a hellish few months, but I’m hoping next year to get back on track and start posting answers to any questions you might have about MS, psychology, and life, the universe and everything. 🙂 Have a happy new year everyone!
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here's an excerpt:
So…site (to remain anonymous, but suffice to say it is a reputable and nationally read news publication), tells me I must register to comment on an article. Fill out the registration form, it says I’m already registered. I try to log in but cannot remember password, so click and fill out password retrieval protocols, site emails me a link, click link, redirects back to site and reset password, successfully log in. Now site tells me in order to comment on article I must confirm email address. In order to do this I’m asked to fill in a form which will generate a link sent to my email which I must click and will redirect me back to the site. Didn’t I just do that? Whatever. Click and fill out email confirmation protocols, site emails me a link, click link, redirects back to site AGAIN aaand email address confirmed! Go back to original article only to discover…all comments gone. Only a heading stating “Comments”, poised over a blank white space that used to house a comment box and many comments. Refresh…still no comments. Grr.
“We barely remember what came before this precious moment. Choosing to be here, right now, in this body…This body makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion.”
I’ve begun teaching a beginning dance class, and in my quest to teach my students, slowly but surely I’m learning to dance again myself. I have many limitations, many new aches and pains, sometimes a lengthy and debilitating recovery period keeping me bedridden for days after each lesson, but still…it feels so good! I feel like I’m contributing in some way, and it’s bizarre how important that contribution to the world becomes when you’re no longer able to provide it. I’m teaching people to feel as good about themselves as I did when I was discovering dance, and just maybe some of those dancers will surpass me and go on to learn from others and become great dancers and I can feel honored to be a part of that. However, even if all I get out of this is the opportunity to force myself out of bed once a week, to make myself stand in front of others and hide how weak I’ve become, how much my muscles and joints protest, how reduced my stamina, and hopefully with time regain some of these things even if to a lesser extent than what I ever had when I was healthy, and in the process teach my students that they can feel graceful, beautiful, happy, and express themselves in a form that they never knew of before, I will consider it a job well done.
“To dance is to live.”