i·den·ti·ty cri·sis

noun

PSYCHIATRY
 
  1. a period of uncertainty and confusion in which a person’s sense of identity becomes insecure, typically due to a change in their expected aims or role in society.

My life has been unraveling for months. Health, finances, state of residency, yucky apartment building, transportation woes, decent food, and plenty more. Each time I thought changes were going to happen, I was tossed back to square one….or even further behind. Pretty much everything I thought about myself has been thrown out the window, along with most of my hopes and dreams. I was left stunned and confused.

For awhile I convinced myself that no matter what went on around me, I would be OK. I was the architect of my life and I would build a new reality. Problem is, I don’t live in a vacuum. My personal problems are also affected by what seems to be unshakeable reality and other people. Everything in my life is subject to reevaluation at this point. Nothing is what I thought it was. I was blithely going along believing things that weren’t true. I am shaken to my very foundation. It hurts. Crying doesn’t work and neither does being numb.

I spent days going over every post on this blog. Geeze! That was depressing! I am always sick. Same old stuff with new bad things added from time to time. There were dozens of times between July 2012 and now when various health professionals promised me IVIg. I had forgotten many of them. All those times my hopes were raised….only to crash in flames.

Reading those old blog posts made me realize how repetitive my life is. I seem to be endlessly going through the same struggles. Much of it boils down to whether I am getting decent health care. I have no strength to do much more than exist here in Utah. No matter how bad things seemed after the first husband swindling me out of my money, being homeless in Florida, having strokes, enduring domestic violence, etc….somehow I got past it and went on to something else. I have never felt as stuck as I am now. With little money to play with and crummy health, it sure is hard to fight back.

Yes, indeed, I am experiencing an identity crisis.

I spent time today trying to get my wheelchair fixed. It has been one mistake after another on the part of the wheelchair company. Each time I think I have fixed the latest issue, there’s a new one. It has been a week with no power chair 😦 The garbage was smelling pretty bad! This afternoon I put garbage and recycling on my walker and went out to the dumpsters. It’s a looooong way from my apartment to there and back. Luckily I only bumped into one resident on my way in. She gasped “are you OK?” I could only shake my head no. Then I cried all the way down my hall. No body part was without pain or difficulty functioning. It was an excruciatingly slow plod. I still severely hurt hours later.

As usual, lunch was another bad joke. The Tuesday person is not fond of getting here early. Last week it was around 3 PM, today was 1:45. That makes it hard to know whether to eat a snack or give up and fix my own lunch. I had not eaten any breakfast. Most people show up between 11:30 and 12:30. What’s infuriating is the food gets here at least by 9 AM….and languishes in the community room, waiting for the volunteer of the day to deliver it. We are not allowed to self-serve.

Today’s menu says: bbq pulled pork, wheat bun, mixed vegetables, country coleslaw and spiced apples. The bbq was good (and real meat!), the mixed vegetables were passable and the coleslaw and apples were pure garbage…and that’s where I put them. The slaw was coated in what seemed like fake oil? The apples were in a cornstarch slime and had fake cinnamon flavor. Disgusting. What’s so difficult about real ingredients?!?!?! I spend way more time being grouchy about Meals on Wheels than being grateful for it. I hate to keep getting the meals and I am afraid to stop! At least I get milk 🙂

Here’s hoping something new and improved happens in my life!

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