PT came and we took a walk around the neighborhood with James, and then Melissa joined with Tara too. What a sight we must have made, me pushing my wheelchair and Melissa walking her small pooch.
Two doctor appointments this week, therapy too - both PT and mental. Seeing Stephen Hawking. Passes to attend a Comedy Central recording at The Fillmore.
A sudden discovery means I've tickets to see Devo and Blondie at The Warfield and my accessibility needs have me in Row 1. Let me rephrase that to Row 1!!!!! Hopefully by the time of the concert I'll have a paying friend to help out, though if James still is here I won't mind having to pay his way if that's necessary.
It bothers me that a part of me feels that all of these events should be me attending with my ex-husband, because whilst it's true he'd love every single one of these, his behavior remains as cold and somewhat evil as ever. The only communication I've received from him this past year has been regarding finances and not good or helpful ones at that. His rent just got raised so now I'm left with a bitter taste and a serious wonder if everybody telling me to get legal help is absolutely correct.
It especially sucks because with the distance and time I've come to see the good and the bad and I foolishly started to fall back in love with the man I married, very stupidly forgetting that he's no longer that person. It's hard because truly I did believe he is my soul mate if I should have one. But perhaps I'm just as deluded as he is, just in the opposite manner.
All I definitely know is that I'm seeing Stephen Hawking and Devo and Blondie and may scrape together enough for a matinee showing of "Prometheus" this week, which on top of everything else shows just how hard I'm trying to appreciate the world around me whilst I can.
I'm worried about finances (Devo is the only money I'm spending - the rest are free or generous gifts) what with my medical expenses all piled up and now the dental multi-thousands getting added to the over $10K just overwhelming me. And Shawn's email ignoring all the requests I've made for assistance for Lolita's medical bills (his cat - another of the many things he just abandoned to my home last year) only to add a few more bills to my pile while cutting down the alimony.
I'm wrecked and I'm drained and I know from what I hear over and over that I'm hiding it well. My suicidal urges made more urgent ever since Diane jumped from the bridge last month as my vomiting and increase in pain and fears of my health insurance and disability application and IHSS needs and so forth have ramped up.
But James makes me laugh so very much. He's too young by far and all that and there's no physical attraction on either side, never mind his age or the fact my caregiver should never be an object of anything more than a healthy platonic friendship so that's good and settled, because I do think of him as a friend already. A hysterical one as far as making me laugh out loud quite frequently. But yeah, he helps me mask the truth I'm hiding and hiding from. He's an excellent roommate and an excellent caregiver and I'm glad for both of us that this seems to be working out.
Wow I'm rambling all over the place. My mental state is very confused so that's not surprising. Nor is it so that I'm terrified of how I'm supposed to keep financially afloat when I'm barely surviving as things stand now. With the cutback in my alimony I'm fairly screwed. I'm paying all my healthcare. That takes up almost everything other than rent and utilities.
I'm going in circles now.
My only hope is getting disability and IHSS approval and really soon for both of them.
Heaven knows I'm in urgent need. Especially of Medi-Cal and all the disability trimmings. And on that note I'll just say that James and I started to watch Celebrity Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew last night and James pointed out that none of these people make gaining "rich and/or famous" look worthwhile in the least. They may have money and they may have beauty but DAMN they're seriously screwed in the head. Between all the child abuse stories and rapes and inability to connect to even one person in a truly intimate manner stories it just makes you shudder. Of course I know people with stories just as traumatic but they're not losing millions of dollars due to it. And very few of them act like the world owes them a living, as the saying goes.
I'd still love to be a character actress and earn enough to not need to worry about finances. But not like these people...