Daily Life

 Wednesday, I went to 25 cent day at Family Thrift outlet in west Houston. I spent $18 on 72 items to cut up for quilts. I love cutting it all up. It’s semi-therapeutic. I got a lot of denim button down shirts to save the buttons from too. I also want to do some button art. Since most of the buttons are white, the thing that would make the most sense to make would be a snowflake or a snowman. We’ll see. For now, I just like cutting up my 72 items. Cutting up 25 cent clothing just makes me happy. If that sounds weird, I’m sorry. I also love sewing and have been watching some ladies on YouTube who are and quilters. Links later. 

My weight this morning was 194.3, and I feel great. A couple months ago, the scale said 215, so this is more than a 20 pound loss. Phentermine works great at making you just not think about food at all. I have not been to the gym in a couple weeks though, and need to get back on it. I got out some old t-shirts that were too tight a couple months ago, but fit great now. Two of them are New Mexico shirts with the very cute state flag, one shirt from the Galveston Seawall, and one that says New Orleans. A week or so ago, it seemed to me that I was just losing boobs and that’s it, but that’s not what it is. I’m losing weight in my abdomen, and that’s making my boobs sag more. I’m getting old I guess. 

Today is the 33 year anniversary of my parents and I leaving Chicago, where we were all born. Tomorrow is my mom’s 81st birthday. We never do things for birthdays that end in 1- they just aren’t exciting. When we left Chicago for Arizona on May 29th, 1993, we had gotten to Oklahoma City by the end of the next day. We had my mom’s 48th birthday in a motel there with pizza. We had a car with an attached U-haul and a 10 year old dog that would live about 2 and a half more years. We went to bed that night and at 3:00 am, the dog was barking at people in the motel hallway and we left because my father didn’t tell the desk we had a dog. 

Our move to Arizona was very good for my mom at the time. They were in a big friend group with the Chicago GOYA (Greek Orthodox Youth of America), which included some of my aunts and uncles on both sides. This whole friend group had a big competition with each other to see who could move from Chicago to Arizona. I often wonder what caused that challenge among all these people.  Nowadays, it’s considered bad parenting to move a kid to a new state just because, but it wasn’t considered bad parenting back then. My mom kind of didn’t want to go at first, but once we got there, she perked up for at least a few years. My mom had just turned 48, and my dad was 51. I’m turning 48 in about 7 weeks, so it’s nice to know that if my mom could have a good start at this age then I can too. I’m not saying I would move anywhere. Kevin and I want to live in his parent’s guest house as long as possible because the rent is so cheap. But I can renew my mind and set new goals. 

I’ve been very down due to leaving my job at the inventory service and getting into caregivers again. With my husband still working there, I have to hear about it every day. I can’t not ask him how his day was. 

Right now, I’m taking care of a 99 year old on hospice. Her kids are caring for her, and they need a break. She often makes me think of an old character from the 80’s that just wouldn’t die and was indestructible. I think it was Svengoolie but can’t remember. I have perpetual anxiety that she’ll die when I’m with her, but it’s honestly not that big of a deal of that happens. After all, it’s been long expected and she is 99. If I live as long as her, then my halfway point won’t even be for about a year and a half. That’s encouraging. (Kind of), but not really because this 99 year old tends to have panic attacks. It’s a little daunting to think about still having panic attacks 50 years from now when I am confined to a recliner and dependent on others for everything. When she has one, I just take her hand and put the other hand under that arm and let her stand up while I sort of support her as she stands there. This standing eases her anxiety for a minute or two. 

The other person I’m caring for is the one who’s granddaughter witnesses a classmate being killed. This woman also lost her husband four months ago and sometimes cries to me about it. It’s hard for me to bear other people’s trauma like I am, but I try to deal with it by listening and letting it pass.

This Monday and Tuesday I have 12 hour shifts with another client that just wants you to go in another room and she “hollers” if she need you. So I’m setting the intention to bring my notebooks and jot notes all day. 

I’m just praying for more easy days. As I write more and more about the jobs I’ve had and the people I’ve helped at both ends of the lifespan, it’s hitting me just how much I’ve dealt with. The fact that the therapist I saw didn’t believe a couple key elements of my story gives me hellish imposter syndrome, but I’m working through it. Acknowledging that trauma can alter your memories is tough when you’ve been writing a book and consciously trying to make up fake scenarios that are “based on” real ones to protect the identity of the person you worked with. How much of my book will be BS?  Essentially, I don’t think it matters, because the message will stay the same. There’s a very complicated balance between changing things up to protect privacy, knowing you might remember things wrong due to trauma, and having a condescending bitch for a therapist that was like “Are you sure it was that and not this?” Ugh seriously fuck that lady, I’m so glad im not going back. 

The ACES Questionnaire

 Before I was diagnosed with chronic PTSD, I was asked to fill out the ACES Questionnaire. This stands for Adverse Childhood Experiences. It’s a list of ten things that you answer about things you went through as a child. There is no real score to decide if you have chronic PTSD, they just say “The higher your score, the more likely you are to suffer complex trauma,”. 

Since my very first therapy session at age 17 was someone my mother paid for and arranged, I was basically dismissed as someone who has no reason to struggle, because some of the fact that some of the questions on ACES didn’t apply to me. My parents weren’t divorced. They didn’t go to jail or prison, and they weren’t financially poor. I have no idea if they used substances when I was a child or not. And as far as spousal abuse goes, they hurt each other equally. Some versions of ACES ask only very specifically if your father abused your mother. With my parents, it was back and forth. Mental illness in parents is not something I’m sure I can even answer, because while my mom claims to have had postpartum depression for 15 years, PPD is often given as a reason or excuse for abuse- discounting me yet again. All of the other things are arbitrary. All forms of abuse are denied in my family. So I may have this diagnosis on paper, but I really have no skin in the game when it comes to deserving help. 

I posted some of my frustrations online about ACES. Of course, people came back with how “it doesn’t actually matter if your parents weren’t not divorced.”  But it does- at least enough to be counted on that list. 

Someone gave me an example of a child who survives a school shooting. This person said, “They are still going to be traumatized, even if their parents are still married.”  And while they mean well saying that, they really shouldn’t have to say it at all. If that’s the case, then why not put surviving a school shooting on the ACES list?  Sometimes a divorce is actually in the child’s best interest- and I would definitely rather go through that than to witness a school shooting. 

The phone definitely spies, because This came up in my YouTube suggestions about the elementary school shooting in Uvalde four years ago. It’s over an hour long and goes into detail. I realized that I never watched any minute by minute detailed replay of that event. And wow. One thing I do remember was one little girl who called 911 from her classroom five times before the police busted in to disable the shooter. She told 911 operators that her classroom was “full of victims”. This documentary replays her actual 911 calls. I do remember that in the days/weeks after the Uvalde shooting, this little girl had a very rough time and was in the hospital for quite a while. There was a news story about her, and it showed both her mother and father in her hospital room with her. Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re still together, but there’s a good chance they are. Could you imagine actually having to tell this kid, “Oh it’s ok, you can still be traumatized”?  

“It doesn’t matter that your parents never split up, that’s just on there so they can determine how much support you had when you lived through an actual war zone at age ten!  Just don’t check that box!”  

Can you imagine ANYTHING counting against this kid when trying to diagnose her with trauma?  To me that just screams audacity. 

I think the ACES questionnaire should be updated to include school shootings, medical trauma, and bullying.  Certain family structures and marital statuses don’t have a monopoly on hardship.  

That’s all for tonight. 

Happenings Around Here

 First of all, I discovered Substack. I’m intrigued. It’s a platform where you can write articles about anything. Wow!  I subscribed to about 10-12 people who write about things I’m interested in. 

Secondly, gift card boss wanted to meet me at a convenience store right by one of my clients’ home, 15 minutes before my shift, so she could give me my $100 gift card. Usually she mails them, but I haven’t seen her in person since I was onboarded in January. 

The next morning, I used my Walmart gift card to buy five cases of bottled water for hurricane season.  This added up to a little over $20. With the rest, I bought solid 100% cotton quilting fabrics, because I am officially going to start sewing again. After quitting my training at the ABA facility and becoming very disillusioned, I lost all of my creativity and dumped all of my fabric squares and scraps into a clothing donation bin. It was a very rash and bad decision. My experience trying to become a Registered Behavior Technician was so off the wall that it temporarily killed my soul. 

I had two denim chenille quilts that the sewing was complete on, and they just needed to be clipped and laundered. I gave both to my daughter with a sharp pair of fabric scissors and told her to finish them and do what she wanted with them- keep, sell, or gift. She was eager to finish them. My plan was originally to have an Etsy shop. Maybe I still can. I plan on going back to 25 cent day this Wednesday. 

My daughter Anna is working a summer job at the day camp at the YMCA. She finished training this past Friday and the kids start Tuesday. The last day of this program is July 31.  She’s also working on adding lace to some of her own clothing, and she attended the graduation ceremony for her old high school to support her younger friends. 

The 16 year old granddaughter of one of the elderly people I’m caring for witnessed a classmate get hit by a car this past week, and this morning, the kid unfortunately passed away. Her grandmother is so worried about her, not only from the trauma of witnessing it, but because it was a hit and run and she had to give statements to the police. Talking to the police can be traumatic for kids, and hopefully these cops were understanding. She’s going to carry this with her for life. 

One of my friends had a baby on January 26 who just went home a few days ago. He was born with hydrocephalus and was in the NICU. She posted an Amazon wishlist, which I ordered a rattle off of. I love Amazon wishlists, because you don’t have to guess what a person wants or needs. 

I went to work yesterday with a woman who is 99 years old. She is adorable. She is being cared for by her daughters who are in their 70’s, and they just need a break. One of the first things out of their mouths when I showed up and before they left the house was that they would give her Benadryl so she’d sleep for me!  Oh?  I heard that was abuse, but I pretended I knew nothing. It’s abuse if you give it to a child to make them sleep. I’m not sure you can tell two 70 year olds who are caring for their 99 year old mother not to do that. Like I said before, elderly people are stuck in their ways. The last old man I took care of drank nothing except coke and rum. The ice melting in those drinks was his only water intake. A major difference between caring for kids vs elderly is that with kids, you always have to do best practice. If an elderly person wants coke and rum, or Benadryl, or cake for breakfast, or a smoke, then who cares. Just don’t smoke around the oxygen!  But if you’re a kid- don’t smoke at all. 

🙈🙉🙊

I have a lot of thoughts to blog about regarding the following topics:

Traumatic memories being processed differently, to the point where you probably don’t remember things correctly, and how that can lead to imposter syndrome when you have PTSD 

The low birth rate and how people are all of a sudden trying to promote having children. 20-30 years ago, they promoted not having children, or at least, waiting to do it absolutely last. It’s so weird to me to see how the propaganda has done a 180. Did they not think my generation would listen? 

I have some thoughts on Joseph Duggar’s nasty ass. 

I’m having Artemis dreams every night. Ever since I killed that deer, the goddess of the hunt is living rent free in my psyche. THE deer I killed is always somewhere in these dreams too. I don’t know how to interpret any of it. Do I need to be interpreting? 

Stay Tuned 

Pics and Reflections

I didn’t even have to ask for a raise lol. I just got this text from GCboss out of the blue. I’ve done such an amazing job, yall!  The new rate is $1 more than my starting pay and still $1 less than her cap. 

I’m getting a shift differential of $5 per hour for working with the married couple. This helps with the fact that it’s about 30 miles away with a seven hour break. On Friday, I went home in between, because Kevin was away for work and I needed to feed the cats. Usually my mother in law will feed them if we’re away, but the presence of Jordan kind of stresses her out. He darts out the door, and she’s really worried about that. So I just went home Friday. Yesterday, however, I did a lot of side jobs nearby on both field agent and iVueit. I’ve been having a lot of free subway sandwiches plus $3. I’m starting to wonder if the Subway employees can tell we are mystery shoppers, because we always order the same thing (have to for reimbursement). 

Today on my seven hour break, I’m going to go to a park in the town where they live. Kevin is off and may meet me. 

Here’s the damage the deer did to my car. I’m thinking back to when it happened, and a man who was local to that town stopped to ask if I was ok. He was very very nice, but he was kindly encouraging me to leave town. Now that I look back on it, I think he wanted to go back and get the deer. Some stuff he said about it makes me wonder if he did. Maybe there’s some unspoken rule in these small towns that if you hit the deer, you get to eat it. Idk 🤷🏻‍♀️. But if so, I didn’t care. I’m not about to fillet a deer. 

Last but not least, here’s Jordan and all of his cuteness. He’s such a joy. He’s 11 months old now. I estimated his birthday to be 6-21-2025, the summer solstice. He showed up on our doorstep on 12-21, the winter solstice, and the vet estimated him at 6 months old. So it was perfect. 

 

The End of my Therapy Journey

 I want to type this post out in order to clarify why I never ever want to attempt to go to therapy again. I have concluded that while it does help many people with many things, it’s not for me.  

When I was a high school senior, three of my teachers staged an intervention and made my mom take me for counseling, because I was very depressed. She was absolutely livid and demanded to know “what I was telling my teachers.”  She took me somewhere for a free consultation and all I remember is that she was mad for days when they told her I was suffering from depression. Later on, she made me go to a therapist (I was still under 18), and the therapist that she chose basically told me that I had no reason to be depressed. She reminded me that I had both parents still in the home, my parents met all of my financial needs, even took me on summer vacations. She reminded me that some kids had divorced parents and didn’t have their dad in the home. 

Fast forward to the start of my panic attacks. I went to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me as bipolar the first time I saw her. Then I tried to get therapy, was refused by someone who said they didn’t treat someone with bipolar, and went to someone who “specialized in” bipolar. By the end of my second session with her, she told me I wasn’t bipolar. And stopped seeing me. I told the original doctor, who then just changed what was written to anxiety and depression. 

Then in early 2025, I figured that I should probably get into therapy to sort of “maintain things” while things were going well. Only now days, you couldn’t just make an appointment and go. Now you have to “schedule a free 15 minute session” to “see if you’re a good fit.”  These 15 minute free sessions are absolute nightmares. There’s nothing worse than feeling like you’re on a job interview when looking for a therapist. 

I had one, and gave her the disclaimer that I didn’t grow up in a broken home. She assured me that was perfectly fine!  And that I still deserve therapy!  Then I started telling her a little bit about myself and that I regretted going back to school. She then said she didn’t “specialize” in people who regret their education, and her tone of voice changed. She wouldn’t see me because of that. 

It affected me a lot to be rejected like that. With the next free 15 minute session, I now had to give two disclaimers. I didn’t grow up in a broken home, and I also regret college. I also had to now give the disclaimer that regretting my own education didn’t mean that I was anti intellectual or anti college. I clarified that I fully realize that college is necessary for some people, it just wasn’t the right choice for me at the time. She said that I still deserved therapy even though I didn’t have a broken home, and that my college regret was also perfectly ok with her!  Then she asked what medication I took. I told her I took gabapentin for anxiety and she said “WOWWW!” She obviously had a huge problem with that. I explained that SSRI  and SNRI medications didn’t work for me and this does. She started talking about how SSRI’s work for so many other people.  I felt totally judged and didn’t want to proceed. 

It took several days again before I was ok with another free 15 minute session with another one. This time, I gave the disclaimer that I grew up with married parents, I regretted my college degree, and I take gabapentin for anxiety. I gave the disclaimers that I am not against college for other people, nor am I against SSRI’s for other people. These two things about me were just personal. She gave me this same pseudo-assurance that the others gave me and said it didn’t matter!  I still deserved therapy!  Then she proceeded to ask me who I live with. I told her about my husband, and somehow it got out that I met him at work. He had been my supervisor in 2023. And how at the time of that free 15 minute session (2025), I was still employed there. She said immediately that that could be a problem. Like he had some sort of power thing over me. I started freaking out that she would somehow make me leave my husband. I definitely didn’t tell her about our age gap. 

By now, I seemed to have a laundry list of disclaimers I had to give to potential therapists. I didn’t grow up in a broken home, I regretted my college degree, I take gabapentin and not an antidepressant, and I married my supervisor. Giving all of these disclaimers would now take almost the whole 15 minutes. However somehow I did still manage to find someone who agreed to see me, and she was my therapist for several months. 

I really just spent several sessions just talking and talking with her. She asked questions here and there, and eventually diagnosed me with PTSD. Then at the end of December, I remember telling her that my mom always claimed to have postpartum depression for 15 years. She told me that PPD generally doesn’t last 15 years, and that it was likely just regular depression.  But something shifted in her interpretation of my childhood. Before I told her about the 15 year long PPD claim, she was affirming of me and- now it was likely she was saying my mom had a reason for everything she did to me. After that, I was changing jobs in the beginning of 2026, and she claimed to have scheduling issues. She referred me to someone else, but didn’t tell the new person any of my history. So if I was going to start over with a new therapist I had to start completely over with my story, and that was exhausting. 

I finally took a long enough break to where I felt like I had enough strength to go through my whole entire story again. So I did. I gave all the disclaimers in the free 15 minute session and asked at the end of it, “Is there anything I told you that would make you not want to see me?” Because ALL of the things about me that therapists took issue with had nothing to do with each other. That meant that there might be something else somewhere in my story that would make a therapist either freak out or reject me completely. Since all of the other things were so unrelated, I couldn’t predict what that would be in order to leave it out. I just had to open completely up to these people and wait. 

Then my first session started, and I condensed my life story into the one hour session. At one point, she stopped me and asked me if I was sure something happened the way I was describing, or did it actually happen another way?  I was caught off guard and the anxiety began. We set up our next app for what would have been today at 4:00 pm. She told me all about EMDR, and I was grossly and extremely uncomfortable with it. I watched a video of it in session, and absolutely hated what I saw. It looked like a magic trick and mind control at the same time. I knew I couldn’t tell her my concerns because then she would be like “actually it’s not those things” and then I’d have no recourse. I emailed her to cancel and uncancel and she called me to reiterate that we didn’t have to do EMDR if I wasn’t comfortable with it. I told her what it looked like to me, and of course she tried to say “actually it’s not” but then pinned it on me saying “It’s not going to work on you if you are this uncomfortable with it.”  

The truth is, I am uncomfortable with therapy at all at this point. I was falling apart because she didn’t believe my story, and I was expected to go in front of her and let her do some hypnosis crazy crap that was extremely uncomfortable with. Even if we didn’t do EMDR, she still didn’t believe me. I spent the next few days in absolute panic attack hell, not wanting to go back at all, and feeling like I have to. 

Finally, I got to a point where I knew I couldn’t continue this circus anymore and emailed her that I needed to cancel for good. I called her out for not believing me, and she responded “Actually I was just trying to gather information.”  

Which, no she wasn’t. She literally asked, “Are you sure it was X and not YZ?”  I took her consideration and thought back to when the memory happened. It definitely wasn’t what she said it must have been, for several reasons. 

I am the one who was there. It was my lived experience and not hers. I felt immediate relief upon canceling that appointment, and have decided not to seek out any more therapists. They just won’t help me. It’s too stressful to “interview them”, because there’s no way I can get out all the disclaimers in such a short time. And I have no reason to believe them if they pull the “You still deserve it” crap. And how on earth am I supposed to feel comfortable opening up to people when I’m not going to be believed?  I know most people would say “Just find another therapist who will believe you.”  No. Do you mean find one who will pretend to believe me because they’re getting paid?  I don’t think so. 

I also wonder if this means I even “really have PTSD”. If things didn’t happen the way I remember them, then that negates the whole thing. Oh well. It would not be the first time I was undiagnosed with something. If only this really was “just like going to the doctor for a broken bone”. Then they’d know exactly what was wrong, exactly what to do, and there would be evidence of whatever happened. 

There is so much obsession out there with therapy that not everyone believes it’s valid to just quit going. The answer always has to be “find another one.”  As time consuming and exhausting as that process is, I can put all of that energy into literally anything else and benefit. It isn’t for me and never will be. 

Two Turtles and a Deer 🐢 🐢 🦌

 Today I did a big day trip doing my side jobs. I had a good offer on the Merchandiser app, and there were also good jobs on the IVueit app near the places that the Merchandiser app wanted me to go to. I had to go through some pretty rural areas, though.  It also rained heavily, and there were small turtles all over the roads. I accidentally killed two and cringed with guilt each time. However, there were about five or six turtles that I missed. 

Then on a two lane rural highway, a deer came out of nowhere and slammed into my drivers side door. I pulled over immediately and when I tried to open my door, it only opened half as much as it usually does. A man in a pick up truck who was behind me also stopped to ask if I was ok. He said he saw it but knew I couldn’t stop in time. 

Only my door is damaged, and the car drives fine. Therefore, I’m just not going to worry about the door for now. I only have liability insurance, so that’s not an issue. 

I called Kevin and told him. Then I called my mother and told her. The first thing she asked me was if Kevin was mad at me about it. (She didn’t ask if I was ok, because I clarified that I was ok before I told her I hit a deer).  But I mean, she could have asked if my car was ok before worrying “if Kevin was mad”. 

She asked that because my father would have been having a conniption fit right now. Kevin is more sensical. He knows deer don’t have all the smarts in the world. He drives through these rural areas for work all the time too. The deer came out of absolutely nowhere and seemed to be aiming for the side of my car, like a suicide mission. I’m actually more mad at my mother right now for thinking my husband would be “mad”. 

On another note, I made great money today (which will all probably have to go towards fixing the door), Anna is home (at her dad’s for now), and my weight is down to 197.4. Anna is starting training this Friday to be a camp counselor at the YMCA. It will run until July 31. I’m so proud of her and will most likely see her Thursday. 

 The fact that gift card boss called me the damage control is going to my head a lot. I love it. My husband and my daughter told me to ask for a raise. Her cap pay rate is $2 more than I make now. I could ask for that and get it. 

I have been HEAVILY conditioned to never negotiate or ask for a raise. The “no one will ever hire you” narrative was strong with me. I was taught that if I ever asked for a raise, I’d be fired immediately and replaced with someone who will do it for less. Negotiating higher pay during n an interview was absolutely out of the question in my upbringing. If I ever did that, I just wouldn’t get the job. When gift card boss hired me, she had already hired me before discussing wages. She was LITERALLY prompting me to ask for more. She was. She’s not going to fire me and replace me immediately if I ask. She also just said she wishes she could clone me. 

I still have a lot of “dread” about going to see the racist guy tomorrow (Remember, he saw me and said “finally a white girl), not sure why I am experiencing the dread when I already met his family. I usually have this level of day before dread with new clients. 

Reminds me of the meme. “Do a rep for every lie you believed”. Haha. I’d be ripped. 

There’s another thing I want to mention. I’ve been married one year and one month. People always tell women who get married, “Have a plan for when he dies or leaves you.”  That’s good advice!  I also think you should have back up plans in case literally anything else doesn’t work out. But, the times I’ve been told this lately, I feel like I’ve explained Plans B, C, D, E, F and G and they all get shut down. Most of the back up plans I’ve mentioned are things I’ve done before and was successful at. I hate being told to have a plan, and then getting six whole plans criticized as if they aren’t good ideas. 

Then last night, I tried to tell my husband, “Let’s..” and then suggested he come with me to do some of the “if he died or left me” things. He actually said maybe if his mother was to die before his stepfather, and his stepfather wanted us to move out of the guest house. That’s actually more likely to happen than him leaving me any time soon, so maybe I gave him some ideas. 

As far as writing, I’m still doing the spiral notebook with the skipping five lines. I am working on three major writing projects. Only one of them is The Child Advocate.