Lolita keeps stretching a paw out to touch my cheek or the side of my brow.
When I'm as devastated by my physical health as currently they generally all seem very aware of it. And tonight's been a doozy.
The desire to have income, real income, not the 1/3 of the alimony/medical care I should be getting by law (how wonderful to take advantage of a person in desperate need of an advocate, and abuse the trust and faith of over a decade) - to be in charge of a business of my own making!?! Oh gods, what Faustian deal would I have to make? If only I could use my weakness and illness to not only help others, but to also create a thriving business whilst doing so.
From what ashes can a Phoenix arrive? Perhaps a medical weekly podcast? One based from the ill person's perspective starring myself and Shana? The faith believer and the atheist? Finish my book? Turn it into a script? It's more script than novel currently anyhow.
Shana says she thinks I have the successful business already in me; an egg waiting to be warmed and hatched. That's not as far fetched as it perhaps seems. I've all the equipment necessary to do a video podcast already. I've the lights and cameras and skills necessary to edit even.
Of course I'm trapped in bed close to 24-7-365 currently. This adrenal crisis flareup is pretty damned hardcore and has me weaker than I'm used to. Seeing Dr. Julie tomorrow to get her opinion on what I should do next. If she doesn't know than need to give Dr. Linfoot a call to get his input. It's bad enough I don't feel very melodramatic saying I feel ready to die. I'm begging the universe to let me go in my sleep it's so awful.
Yes. I'm ready to go but my babies, my sweetlings, they have me surrounded and as usual they're the only reason I feel guilty about wanting this all to end.
Oh fuck! I just realized (this continues to show how much I need an advocate) due to Shawn's pushing the divorce through without giving me any warning or time to get help that I need a TEXAS family law attorney to help me pro bono. I've really been screwed royally by this "man" who used my illness, my weakness, and my fears of ending up on the streets in this condition against me. He's a man in age, but any abuser is no real man. An abuser is a weak person who uses their position of power to manipulate those weaker than themselves.
Carl, Erica, and various others who need not be named warned me over and over again...but without any financial help what could I have done differently?
I need to rest. But I also need to remember these truths when I wake up tomorrow so I can try to figure where to go from here. Any advocate offers welcomed. Any advice on where I can find help financially in an entropanureal way (including spelling the damned word correctly) also welcomed. And as always, cuddles and care not only welcomed but returned wholeheartedly.