These days of summer, the month of June, has been spectacularly obnoxious for me. Here's why:
Near the beginning of the month, my debit card was stolen, and a number of charges were made online. The charges themselves were not very big, but my bank has added HUGE overdraft fees, leaving me nearly $900 overdrawn at the end of the month. I don't even get nine hundred dollars in SSI/SSD each month!! We are working to fix this, but it seems as if the bank just doesn't care. I hate it, and am not happy. And I'm broke, probably forever, now.
Add to the money problems the health stuff. The last year has been bad, seizure-wise, and we cannot seem to figure out why. OHSU, where I am a patient at the Epilepsy clinic, assigned me to a new doctor last Autumn, and I've seen her once. She keeps rescheduling my appointments. So I'm asking my GP, Dr Jeff, for a referral to the Providence Neurology & Epilepsy Clinic. I am done being shuttled around. That appointment, with Dr Jeff, is tomorrow. I get my thyroid level checked, too, after being on the med for over a year. Let's hope things are looking up!
Some things are looking up, I can admit that. I've lost some weight in the last year, but not nearly what I need to lose. I am a short woman, with small bones, and weighing this much can't be good for me. Now, I watched a TED Talk this week, and based on their info, even at this weight, I'm in the healthier group. See, I do 3 of the 4 things it takes to make you the healthy person: I eat plenty of fruits & veggies, I don't smoke, and drink moderately. I don't get enough exercise, but I'm working on it. Makes me feel better about myself, even if my clothes are a bigger size!
Seriously, 75% of what I eat these days is some sort of green smoothie. My NutriBullet gets more use than any other appliance I own, except my laptop! I am feeling better, and I know I am healthier. There are days when something happens to change that; last week I had a fairly bad seizure, and managed to injure myself in some strange places. How I got what looks like a rug burn/bruise underneath my boob, I have no idea, but it hurts like a bitch! Wearing a bra has been out of the question for the last week. (Oh, and the heat here, that's only made things worse. I miss winter.) I'm finally not sore everywhere else, and feeling like a human being again. It's amazing. Somedays I think my body hates me. Somedays I hate it.
These days, I only want to stop feeling as if I crawled out from under a rock. I looked like I should live under one for a while, but now I'm looking better, thank Merlin. I swear, I looked in the mirror last Saturday, and thought I'd been dead for a couple of days! Ick. Only my hair looked decent; I colored it the week before, and it's very nifty. I'll post some pics in the next couple of days--check Instagram!
These days, I am also having some interesting things going on; I'm back on the online dating scene, because I am apparently crazy (I will write about this later), and have no idea what I'm doing. I am trying to grow my nails out again, and not biting them is torture! Trying to answer Oprah's "20 Questions Every Woman Should Answer." I have no good answers. I never do.
Showing posts with label money. Show all posts
Showing posts with label money. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Monday, December 22, 2014
All I want for Christmas....
Someone heard our pleas, prayers, posts, and whines! It's not even Christmas yet, and we have found a place to live! Mom & Dad have rented a house not far from where we are now, about a mile away, actually, and there is room for all of us. The close location makes them happy--they were so worried about being too far away from their church, as well as Max being far away from school. This also means we don't shouldn't have to pack quite as severely as if we were moving farther away. Of course, my Dad doesn't really believe that, and is packing us as if we are moving across the country. Which is funny, since 75% of the boxes we're for using this move are banana boxes, with holes in the tops.
The new house, at least what I've seen of it so far, seems nice. It's yellow. And kinda...well, pointy. Tomorrow I'm going over to explore and get a better look, and I'll take some pictures, so you can see what I mean.
As of today, the plan is that we'll all split the rent & utilities: the folks, Jolene, Hattie & myself. It's been agreed that I will be saving up, in hopes of being able to move into my own place. I'm hoping to do that by my birthday, in March.
The big problem now, of course, is packing. It's interfering with my actual life -you know, surfing the internet, reading, watching the telly, doing my nails, reading some more, snacking, and whining because I have to get all this crap in my room put into some boxes before my father has a conniption fit. I did pack my books, but that was the easy part. Books are simple-they're all the same basic shape, and don't need to be wrapped or cushioned. I've moved a lot in my life, and have packed boxes of books over & over & over; I can do it in my sleep. It's the other, random stuff that is going to be a pain in the tukkus. Once I get going, it'll be fine. What I really want for Christmas is someone else to do the packing, and moving for us--and that Dad would be somewhere else during the whole thing. He's getting on everyone's nerves, and the day of the move is going to be hell.
On a different subject, entirely: I saw Dr Jeff last week, and am now taking a new antidepressant combo, and have a referral to a therapist. He was concerned about me, and very nice about the whole thing, didn't make me feel ashamed or wrong in any way. I appreciate that. He also told me that if I ever begin to feel as if I cannot fight the darkness again, I should call him, immediately. He promised to give the office and service orders to put me through if I call. I was pretty impressed that an GP would do that. This is one of the many things I like about him.
Here's another lovely thing to whine about: two years ago, I informed the Department of Education that I was now considered "fully and permanently disabled," which meant that I was eligible to have my student loans forgiven. I filled out paperwork, had my doctor sign it, and sent it in. It never arrived. We went though this four or five times. My neurologist has left his position (he'd originally signed the papers), and the PA couldn't do the new paperwork. So the Department of Education decided I was in default, and sent my loans to collections. Because I needed one more thing to worry about, I took the new paperwork to Dr Jeff last week, and he's filled it all out, signed & sealed. I talked to the collections company today, and they were so sweet--frankly, I was confused. All I have to do now is either fax or email that paper, and they'll be off my back. Let's hope this works this time!
Okay. I'm off to bed, where I'll stay awake for the next two hours reading, I'm sure. Goody for me!
The new house, at least what I've seen of it so far, seems nice. It's yellow. And kinda...well, pointy. Tomorrow I'm going over to explore and get a better look, and I'll take some pictures, so you can see what I mean.
As of today, the plan is that we'll all split the rent & utilities: the folks, Jolene, Hattie & myself. It's been agreed that I will be saving up, in hopes of being able to move into my own place. I'm hoping to do that by my birthday, in March.
The big problem now, of course, is packing. It's interfering with my actual life -you know, surfing the internet, reading, watching the telly, doing my nails, reading some more, snacking, and whining because I have to get all this crap in my room put into some boxes before my father has a conniption fit. I did pack my books, but that was the easy part. Books are simple-they're all the same basic shape, and don't need to be wrapped or cushioned. I've moved a lot in my life, and have packed boxes of books over & over & over; I can do it in my sleep. It's the other, random stuff that is going to be a pain in the tukkus. Once I get going, it'll be fine. What I really want for Christmas is someone else to do the packing, and moving for us--and that Dad would be somewhere else during the whole thing. He's getting on everyone's nerves, and the day of the move is going to be hell.
On a different subject, entirely: I saw Dr Jeff last week, and am now taking a new antidepressant combo, and have a referral to a therapist. He was concerned about me, and very nice about the whole thing, didn't make me feel ashamed or wrong in any way. I appreciate that. He also told me that if I ever begin to feel as if I cannot fight the darkness again, I should call him, immediately. He promised to give the office and service orders to put me through if I call. I was pretty impressed that an GP would do that. This is one of the many things I like about him.
Here's another lovely thing to whine about: two years ago, I informed the Department of Education that I was now considered "fully and permanently disabled," which meant that I was eligible to have my student loans forgiven. I filled out paperwork, had my doctor sign it, and sent it in. It never arrived. We went though this four or five times. My neurologist has left his position (he'd originally signed the papers), and the PA couldn't do the new paperwork. So the Department of Education decided I was in default, and sent my loans to collections. Because I needed one more thing to worry about, I took the new paperwork to Dr Jeff last week, and he's filled it all out, signed & sealed. I talked to the collections company today, and they were so sweet--frankly, I was confused. All I have to do now is either fax or email that paper, and they'll be off my back. Let's hope this works this time!
Okay. I'm off to bed, where I'll stay awake for the next two hours reading, I'm sure. Goody for me!
Monday, April 29, 2013
Thrifty!
Upheaval has happened in my tiny room, and Miss Google is traumatized.
On Friday & Saturday, my Mom had a yard sale, selling (or attempting to sell) all sorts of stuff gathered from around the house. This included clothes, toys, and furniture. Among the furniture was a headboard that was part of a bedroom set. I've been using the long, low dresser in my room because, well, it was in here when I moved back, and it was just easier to use it than not. It's a lovely piece, blond wood, and very sturdy. The headboard matches. At the sale on Saturday a family decided they wanted to buy the entire set, and would be back on Sunday afternoon to pick it up. So Sunday morning, I moved all of my belongings from the blond dresser to my old dresser, and Dad transported it down to the garage for them to pick up. Of course, these folks never showed up, and the whole thing was done for no reason!
Here is where the problem comes in: since I moved here, Miss Google's food & water bowls had been on a tray on top of that dresser. There is not enough space on the tall one for the tray, so I moved it to my desk. She didn't like that; every time she jumped from the bed to the desk, she ran into the wall. So she kept looking to the place where her bowls had been before, and yowling pitifully. "Meooow?" It was pathetic. I compromised and placed the tray on the floor beside the tall dresser. I only hope I don't trip over it in the dark!
My new old dresser, and a calm Miss G.
This is the dresser I've had since I was a child. I once told Mom I wanted to paint it, and she said "But why? It's such good wood!" This is her response to me everything I mention painting a piece of wooden furniture. I love the look of painted wood; Mom thinks that just the wood is enough. Sometimes I agree, sometimes, not so much. She's gonna have a hissy fit when I paint my antique school desk this summer, but I want to use it as a vanity, and it needs to be a different color.
On a different note, I began searching for apartments this weekend. It was both exhilarating and depressing. Those available in my price range are either way out in the boonies (or in Vancouver, no thank you!), or creepy. Lots of studios. I am too old to live in a studio apartment. Been there, done that. As for sharing a bathroom or kitchen with a bunch of strangers, not even gonna think about that! Isn't that why I'm moving? I have lived in dorms, student housing, a studio apartment, tiny apartments, a "manufactured home", condos, houses, and fairly nice apartments. My dream apartment is in an older building, funky, and fun. A cross between Jerry Seinfeld's place and the apartment of Friends. Easy to find, right? And totally possible on my teeny-tiny budget, of course!
This, for $550 a month? In your dreams.
I do know that where ever I end up, I will be decorating on an even smaller budget, hitting up Goodwill and thrift stores for the furniture I need. Which is nearly everything. I don't have any living room furniture anymore, and I gave my kitchen table to my niece Kristan. Of course, she's not using it now, and I'm using her living room chairs, so maybe we can trade for a bit...hmm. Anyway.
The idea of hitting the thrift shop used to just appall me. If it wasn't new, I didn't want it. While I always had an appreciation for antiques, especially furniture, the idea of buying thing like clothing from Goodwill was abhorrent to me. Not any more. (Don't get me wrong; I'm not tying to be some hipster, shopping at the thrift store because it's cool. And I have no intention of posting every days outfit on Instagram or Tumblr--folks would get real tired of seeing my yoga pants and plain cardigans! Life on a limited budget is challenging, and until this point, I've not been trying very hard to live within my means. ) There was also a time when I refused to buy groceries at WinCo, preferring Fred Myers, or a higher priced chain over the bag-your-own stores. My ex-husband was a big fan of WinCo, and introduced me to the delights of lower prices. It took me a long time to discover that shopping the bulk bins was even cheaper, as well as a greener choice, but these days, I buy lots of my stuff in bulk. I'd still prefer to have someone else bag my groceries, mainly because I suck at it, and always end up with one bag way too heavy, but I am getting better. The lower prices and larger selection have converted me to shopping WinCo! (Sorry for the commercial!)
What was my point?
Oh. I am challenging myself to live within my means from now on. I haven't been spending like crazy, but after all those years of not having any money, I went a little wild. Amazon was my downfall... The months ahead will be tough. Trying to find a place to live, and keeping the budget tight. Saving up all I can. I hate being broke, but I always remember that I am so much better off than so many others!
Meanwhile: watch this, and sing along:
On Friday & Saturday, my Mom had a yard sale, selling (or attempting to sell) all sorts of stuff gathered from around the house. This included clothes, toys, and furniture. Among the furniture was a headboard that was part of a bedroom set. I've been using the long, low dresser in my room because, well, it was in here when I moved back, and it was just easier to use it than not. It's a lovely piece, blond wood, and very sturdy. The headboard matches. At the sale on Saturday a family decided they wanted to buy the entire set, and would be back on Sunday afternoon to pick it up. So Sunday morning, I moved all of my belongings from the blond dresser to my old dresser, and Dad transported it down to the garage for them to pick up. Of course, these folks never showed up, and the whole thing was done for no reason!
Here is where the problem comes in: since I moved here, Miss Google's food & water bowls had been on a tray on top of that dresser. There is not enough space on the tall one for the tray, so I moved it to my desk. She didn't like that; every time she jumped from the bed to the desk, she ran into the wall. So she kept looking to the place where her bowls had been before, and yowling pitifully. "Meooow?" It was pathetic. I compromised and placed the tray on the floor beside the tall dresser. I only hope I don't trip over it in the dark!
My new old dresser, and a calm Miss G.This is the dresser I've had since I was a child. I once told Mom I wanted to paint it, and she said "But why? It's such good wood!" This is her response to me everything I mention painting a piece of wooden furniture. I love the look of painted wood; Mom thinks that just the wood is enough. Sometimes I agree, sometimes, not so much. She's gonna have a hissy fit when I paint my antique school desk this summer, but I want to use it as a vanity, and it needs to be a different color.
On a different note, I began searching for apartments this weekend. It was both exhilarating and depressing. Those available in my price range are either way out in the boonies (or in Vancouver, no thank you!), or creepy. Lots of studios. I am too old to live in a studio apartment. Been there, done that. As for sharing a bathroom or kitchen with a bunch of strangers, not even gonna think about that! Isn't that why I'm moving? I have lived in dorms, student housing, a studio apartment, tiny apartments, a "manufactured home", condos, houses, and fairly nice apartments. My dream apartment is in an older building, funky, and fun. A cross between Jerry Seinfeld's place and the apartment of Friends. Easy to find, right? And totally possible on my teeny-tiny budget, of course!
This, for $550 a month? In your dreams.I do know that where ever I end up, I will be decorating on an even smaller budget, hitting up Goodwill and thrift stores for the furniture I need. Which is nearly everything. I don't have any living room furniture anymore, and I gave my kitchen table to my niece Kristan. Of course, she's not using it now, and I'm using her living room chairs, so maybe we can trade for a bit...hmm. Anyway.
The idea of hitting the thrift shop used to just appall me. If it wasn't new, I didn't want it. While I always had an appreciation for antiques, especially furniture, the idea of buying thing like clothing from Goodwill was abhorrent to me. Not any more. (Don't get me wrong; I'm not tying to be some hipster, shopping at the thrift store because it's cool. And I have no intention of posting every days outfit on Instagram or Tumblr--folks would get real tired of seeing my yoga pants and plain cardigans! Life on a limited budget is challenging, and until this point, I've not been trying very hard to live within my means. ) There was also a time when I refused to buy groceries at WinCo, preferring Fred Myers, or a higher priced chain over the bag-your-own stores. My ex-husband was a big fan of WinCo, and introduced me to the delights of lower prices. It took me a long time to discover that shopping the bulk bins was even cheaper, as well as a greener choice, but these days, I buy lots of my stuff in bulk. I'd still prefer to have someone else bag my groceries, mainly because I suck at it, and always end up with one bag way too heavy, but I am getting better. The lower prices and larger selection have converted me to shopping WinCo! (Sorry for the commercial!)
What was my point?
Oh. I am challenging myself to live within my means from now on. I haven't been spending like crazy, but after all those years of not having any money, I went a little wild. Amazon was my downfall... The months ahead will be tough. Trying to find a place to live, and keeping the budget tight. Saving up all I can. I hate being broke, but I always remember that I am so much better off than so many others!
Meanwhile: watch this, and sing along:
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Questions Worth Asking -- And Some Answers
A while ago, someone sent me a link to a page entitled '25 Beautifully Illustrated Thought-Provoking Questions.' I glanced at it, thinking "Hey, that's nifty," bookmarked it, and went on with my life. Today I stumbled upon it again, and a few of these questions hit me right between the eyes.
The last few weeks have been rough, and I've spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself. Complaining, whining, bitching, whatever you want to call it, I've done them all-in spades. (There is a reason I called this site "Read Between the WHINES!") Not enough money, bad health, bad weather, too many stupid commercials, nothing good to eat, blah blah blah. The worst thing was, after two-and-a-half years without a seizure, I had a whopper of a fit. Ended up with a huge headache, sore muscles and a nasty bitten tongue. Poor Jonna.
Then, as I was scrolling through these photos today, this question struck me.
Of course, I am aware that others have things much worse than I do. I've always been aware of that, but sometimes I forget. When I began having seizures at age 15, I took it in stride, and never made a big deal out of it, partly because my friends didn't. If my friends had flipped out, I might have, but not one of them did. I'm sure there were people in our small town high school who thought I was a weirdo, but I was not aware of them. My mom always took it the hardest. And when I began seeing specialists at the OHSU Epilepsy Center, and met young people who had never been able to have any kind of normal life because of their seizures, that was reaffirmed. I was able to do almost everything that so-called normal people did: I worked, I had a home, a life. I never had to wear a helmet, or be confined to a wheelchair. For a long time, I even drove! (Looking back at that, I am amazed at how careless I was with others lives!) Many people who have the type of seizures I do (tonic-clonic, formerly referred to as grand mal) often lose control of their bladder and/or bowels during a seizure. I have always been extremely thankful that this has never once happened to me!
So yes, I am aware that others have things much worse, in many areas. I am struggling financially, but what that really means is that I don't have spending money, and cannot afford to move. I am not homeless, nor will I be; nor am I going hungry. My family is always here for me, and I for them; so many don't have that. So, I cannot buy a new book, or get a manicure. I have a perfectly good library card, and a drawer full of nail polish. So, I can't afford that gym membership. I'd probably never go, anyway! I have perfectly good walking shoes, and the neighborhood behind us has sidewalks.
This month I turn forty-five years old, and shortly after that, the anniversary of Michele's death arrives. I miss her every day. If Shel was anything, she was positive, and she would want me to celebrate what I have, not what I am missing. Somehow, I think finding these pictures was her way of reminding me of that.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
I'm Not Tom Cruise. I'm Taller.
A few days ago in a post titled 'Bubble Meds, Anyone?,' I stated that I detest anti-depressant medications. I got several rather obnoxious comments about this (which I have been deleted, because I don't want hate here), all telling me how evil and stupid I am to not recognize the wonders that are done by these medications. One commenter even compared me to Tom Cruise ranting on Oprah!
Let me say right now that the only similarities between Tom Cruise & I are height. And a sofa.
Anti-depressants, and medications as a whole, are a good thing. I know lots of folks whose lives are vastly improved by their blend of prescription drugs. Heck, if it weren't for the varied anti-seizure meds I've been on since I was 16, I'd not be able to function. It's quite possible that without those medications I'd be dead now. These medications save lives. I know that.
My issue with anti-depressants in the past has been simply that I've not yet found one that works for me. And of course, I want the quick fix. I'm not a patient person when it comes to medications--I want my pain-killers & cough syrups to work NOW!!! When the happy pills didn't make me happy as soon as I swallowed, well, I gave up. I was young, I had time to wait for the bad feelings to go away. It wasn't a matter of strength, so much as patience & time.
I'm not that young anymore. Many, many things have changed since the last time I had an episode of major depression. Back then I was living with my parents, I had no one depending on me for anything, my health was much better, and my stress level was lower. Now I'm living with my fiance and we are trying to start a business, my health is not good (although my seizures are controlled!), I'm in charge of a household. (Yes, I am!)
Stress, well, stress is high. My best friend, Michele, who just came through breast cancer with a smile on her face has been sick for the last few months. Two weeks ago they found Stage Four cancer in her bone marrow, the bones on her back, and a spot on her lungs. She began chemo last week. I want to be there holding her hand right now, but don't have the money for my passport, much less a plane ticket to Toronto, where she lives. (Her mom is there, so she has help.) But can you understand why my stress level just flew up?
Anyway. My point is that I do not have anything against these medications or the people who take them. I'm not looking for a quick fix this time; I'm willing to be patient.
But if Tom Cruise shows up, telling me all I need are vitamins & exercise to fix my depression, there's gonna be one less Scientologist in the world.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Darkest Before the Dawn
Well this sucks.
Steven, my amazing boyfriend, has been out of work since about this time last year, when he injured his knee on the job. After months of medical leave & workman's comp, and battling with the insurance companies, his time ran out, the hospital gave his job away, and he had to file for unemployment. They, of course, denied him. His appeal was denied today. For some reason, the morons over there seem to believe he quit his job voluntarily, even though he has given them proof of his injury, the paperwork from the hospital, everything, they turned him down.
For months he has been looking for work every day, and these stupid people tell him to go back to the old job for 7 weeks (or months, I was so annoyed I stopped listening), and then he'll be eligible!
What the FUCK?!?!
Aside from just being incredibly stupid, amazingly annoying and downright idiotic, this throws our finances even farther into a black hole than they already are. The rent is covered, but paying the power & cable bill, not to mention putting gas in the car?! Forget it!
We'll be moving soon from our palatial two-bedroom apartment to a luxurious one-bedroom. We're lucky that the one-bedroom is just down the hall, so we won't have to pack everything up. Of course, a big chunk of our things will need to be boxed and trundled over to my parents house, so my dad can complain about how there's too much stuff in his garage already! Thank God for my folks.
The worst part of all of this is not that we have no money, or that we are being forced to move from the only home we've known as a couple. It's the toll all of this is taking on Steven. Every day I see him sinking lower, and it breaks my heart. He is such a good man, a wonderful person, and he does not deserve this! Yet he feels that all of this is his fault, that he's failed me. All I can tell him is that he has in no way let me down. In fact, he's my hero. His desire to work & support our little family makes me so proud it brings tears to my eyes! I see his many talents, and I am amazed, and I wonder why he chose me. Money isn't everything; love is.
This is why I know that though things are dark right now, the sun come out. Because we have each other, and love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)