Life and death emergency, please help me


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I picked up a prescription today. If I had paid cash it would have cost $1,713.73. Thanks to my medicare “advantage” plan I paid $691.18. Thanks to my husband I was able to get this. The copayment would have been more than my monthly social security disability “benefits”.

There are thousands of people in America just like me. I’m not done yet. I have this cause, this movement to fight for, but many of those thousands are done with this life, but their body hasn’t died yet. Quit making your grandma choose between meds that make her sick, or food that she can’t taste, while she begs you to help her.

Let us go!

How dare you sentence us to a life of meager existence to ease your conscience!

No one should spend their life savings as they writhe in pain to wait until something “naturally” kills them. The arguments against assisted suicide stem from superstition and religion.

WAKE UP!

Someone reading this knows someone who can help me. Please! I’m just one person, but we can do this together.

Hey Baby…it’s 3am, I must be lonely…


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It’s song lyrics…I’m not actually lonely, but it is 3am…

So why am I awake? Good question.

I’m sick. Yuck, cold/flu whatever, but there must be more to it than that…

Maybe I’m the reincarnation of some nocturnal animal tonight.

Maybe I am a spy, and all important sneaky stuff needs to be done while the boring non-spies sleep.

Maybe some mysterious event is about to happen and, due to my insomnia, I’m not going to miss it.

Maybe I really am an alien, like I tell my kids. (A little healthy fear is good for kids).

Maybe tomorrow decided to come early in its cloak of darkness.

Maybe I would have been having a nightmare and my mind decided to spare me the horror.

Maybe it’s Opposite Day and I really am asleep.

Maybe I need a drink. Or a smoke. Or a pill.

Maybe I supposed to be developing the characters for my fictional autobiography. (It’s going to be awesome).

Maybe I should just lay there.

Maybe I should get up.

How do you turn off your brain?

To prude for her own good…


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A good friend told me once that another loved one (can’t get too specific here, sorry) was “too prude for her own good”.

I fear I am becoming that. Or I fear I was becoming that. Maybe still am. I don’t know, but I don’t want to be that.

My biology wants me to be that.

What age is it when you turn into your mother?

Ok, so in the name of everything not prude, have a great night! I’ve got to go smoke some weed, watch some porn, and get drunk. 😉

Playing With Myself


I’ve been doing some thinking. People like videos right? YouTube is as popular as ever, and some lucky people even are making money off their videos.

Of course, I wouldn’t be doing everything that other people are doing out there. I’m a little crazy, but not that much. No, I think I’d stick to stuff I know. Like myself. Everyone likes to watch a girl relaxing and just plain enjoying herself right?

Of course, I would have to use some of my toys, and I would have to do some scripting, but it could work right? If you make it, they will come. Field of Dreams…

Anyway, everyone who stumbles across this blog likes to play right? Isn’t that what blogging ultimately comes down to? So, if I play…on video…would you watch?

I hope so. I hope you let your kids watch too. What? What! This whole time you thought I was talking about porn? I play. With words. Get your minds out of the gutter!

I was talking about my invention/method of teaching spelling to little kids. It involves toys I made, and it quickly taught my daughter to spell words like “tomorrow”, and “eight”. Words that can’t be sounded out.

Next month, I’ll try to make a video and post it online. I’ll link to it here, and I really hope some of you check it out. Not those of you who came to this post looking for porn. Actually, you can check it out too, it couldn’t waste more time than porn does. 😉

Envy


This post was written in response to: Calling All Writers

She’s so lucky. Look at how everyone notices her. I don’t care what people say, they are definitely nicer to some people than they are to others. Appearance really does matter.

Funny thing is, she probably doesn’t even appreciate it. Some people are meant to be special, and it really sucks when the wrong person gets the perfect life.

I thought this doctor would be the one. I am so sick of them telling me to be thankful for what I have, and referring me to psychiatrists. I know what I am supposed to be, and if they aren’t willing to help me, I’ll take care of it on my own.

No one should have to spend their lives wishing they were something they aren’t. I’m done pretending.

She used her hands to help unfold her leg from underneath her. The numbness went away after a few minutes and she walked over to the bathtub where her instruments of freedom awaited her.

She slathered the lidocaine about mid-thigh and prepped the gauze and blade.

Phone handy? Check.

It took 8 minutes to get to the hospital from her apartment. She would make sure re-attachment would be impossible by mutilating the lower leg, but she’d have to be careful not to lose too much blood while the ambulance was on its way.

Who’s special now…

Thank you: Part Two


I kept it buried deep inside
  The secret pain was easy to hide.
I laughed, I smiled, I loved, I lost,
  No one knew the infinite cost.
Of trying just to stay alive.
  Of holding fears and doubts inside.
It was easy just to fake a smile
  Easy to pretend a while.
But little did the whole world know
  That loneliness doesn’t always show.
My life, my lies, had torn apart
  The fragile pieces of my heart.
I’d been so close to giving up
  I’d tasted of that poison cup.
But then one day I failed to stand.
  And someone reached out a helping hand.
The funny thing, I came to see
 Was that they were just as broken as me.
They needed me just as much
  As I needed their loving touch.
Our pain can be the ties that bind
  The fragments of our hearts and minds.
A life was saved, an illusion tossed
  Heartbreak might come, but not all is lost.

Sorry, I couldn’t really post everything I wanted to say earlier. Bats is alive…okay…thankful. I am too.

I knew that there were plenty of bloggers who care, but yesterday proved that fact. Over 300 people viewed my posts about Bats, and many of you went on her blog and commented…just incredible things. I don’t really know what to say other than thank you. You have played a huge part in Bats life, and in mine. I have mentioned in the past that over the years I have become quite cynical of life and people in general. I see a lot of the good in people, but I also see a lot of the fake side of people. Since I am disabled, people in general are nice to me. That is good, and I really appreciate it, but watching how people treat me verses others is quite interesting, to say the least.

We all have chains. Some of mine are pretty obvious, like the wheelchair or walker, but others lie under the surface. Those hidden chains can be more painful and destructive than any physical quality I have. As we’ve all seen, other people are struggling to break free of some of their own pain. Their own cages. Sometimes the easiest, and most definite way to break free of something seems to be suicide. That battle to give in to the “escape forever” route is a constant struggle for me, and I’m sure others. It isn’t something that you can just “get over”. It isn’t “selfish” when one of the biggest reasons you want to do it, is because you think people really would be better off without you. Suicide, or other self-destructive things are not just people being freaks, or people being stupid, or whatever. It is an outward manifestation of an internal struggle that goes way deeper than any particular “cause”.

The thing about blogging is that each day people cross our paths that we often don’t think about other than the number of comments on a post, or how many people followed your blog. This is a luxury I don’t want to take. It is hard to connect with everyone who steps briefly into our lives, but sometimes it is good for us to try. My blog is not designed for self-help or a support group. It is not something that people would pull up right away if they did a search for suicide, or pain, or heartbreak; but I have had enough experience with these issues to know how to talk to someone else who is struggling. I also know enough about those subjects to know that sometimes it is best not to talk, but to just listen, or even just be there. I’d like to think that each of us has something that we know a little too well. Our hardships don’t have to just stay buried. They don’t have to be chains that hold us back. They can be chains that connect us to other people who can help us or need us to help them. I hope that makes sense.

Forever grateful, blogger number 5,186,209 Rebekah. Another wounded soul.

Stupidest things I’ve done:


*This is not an exhaustive list. I have done way too many stupid things for a measly blog post. Also, I might have mentioned some of these in other posts, but I have too much brain damage from other stupid things to remember.

Put ear wax remover in my eye – it hurts just to think of it. Just remember before you put anything in your eye, check the bottle.

As a teen, I called a very out-of-my-league guy and told him who I was and that I liked him. Either one of those things might have been okay on their own…no, it is better not to do that at all.

Ran the truck through the garage door – I definitely mentioned that one before.

Something stupid I do on a regular basis is talk too much. I really hate that one.

Installed…yeah, pretty much all my installations deserve a mark the stupidity scale.

Almost put Superglue on my eyelid. Does that count if it just “almost” happened?

Did I mention I talk too much? That applies to writing (in something other than a book) too, so enough self-reflection.

For the smartest question a stupid person will ever ask…or the stupidest question a smart person will ask see: Are Stupid People Smart Enough To Know They’re Stupid.

If that link speaks to you, see: What to do when you realize you’re an idiot.

Are Stupid People Smart Enough to Know They’re Stupid?


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As anyone who has read my blog has probably figured out, I think I’m pretty funny…hilarious really (I tell my husband this all the time). I also think I have what I call “witty” aka “smart” humor *see witty humor category. These opinions of myself got me thinking about whether or not what I believe is actually true.

If I was not funny or smart, would I know it? It seems to me that if I thought I was smart but I was really stupid, I would still think I was smart because I wouldn’t be smart enough to know what “smart” was.

So, now we have a problem. I could ask all of my readers if they thought I was smart, but that would probably seem pretty needy, plus what if they/you had the same problem I had? In fact, what if everyone has the same problem? We all think we are smart but really we are pretty dumb. If this is the case, the smartest people in the world would be the ones who think they are dumbest.

Based on this assumption, I would like to tell all the people out there who think they are dumb that they are actually smart. Smarter than lots of people. I would love to be dumb…I mean smart…I mean…well, you know what I mean right?