Amber's Abode

It takes two... or, the doormat rapture!

Having just caught up on Daniel's blog, including the entry on the doormat rapture, which made me first smile and then laugh, (he's always doing that for me, even if I don't otherwise feel like doing either) I decided to update my own.

Something is in the air in my life.  About 50% of the former workforce in this building has either quit or was fired in the last two weeks.  Including my favorites, the only ones that were there to watch my back, as they say.  So I'm now fighting extreme pain from having to be a guinea pig to a bunch of new workers who have no freaking clue what they're doing, another catheter related infection, an open sore where there definitely should not be one, and just a general feeling of discontent bordering on non-safety.  This is causing me, at this very moment, to very much want to request one of the pills called Xanax that they now keep on standby for my seemingly nightly anxiety attacks.  So far, in about a month, I have not touched them, using breathing and other techniques to soothe and calm myself.  Tonight, none of that is a working so far, so I am using this writing as therapy to avoid the chemicals.  See, I know what I need.  I know I would work.  I need to find home; and then I need to go home.  Right now, the place I call home is where Daniel, my chosen sister Christina, one of my "battle buddies," Amy, a handful of other supportive humans, and my constant ally, the sun, all live.

The problem is that I can't just go there easily, like most people I know could just jump in a car and go.  Say I'm moving and go.  I have to get systems set up in place for my care, my insurance, where I'm going to live, caregivers, all of that.  The problem is that none of the people there are able to set me up there until they see me.  So it has been told to me in a "you didn't hear this from me" fashion from allies in the system there that the only thing that a person with my level of needs can do is get on a plane and arrive; and go immediately to a hospital emergency room, be treated for one of my recurring bladder infections, and then tell them that I am new in town and do not have any place to go.  They are then obligated to put me somewhere safe on an emergency basis, which would almost 100% certain be a nursing home, while they set me up with all the systems I would need.

And I will do it.  I will do it in a heartbeat.  I just need the plane ticket and I'm gone.  I can walk away from most of my stuff here without ever looking back, and my computer can be shipped wherever I land.  I will do it no matter what happens as soon as I get the ticket.  That's not the question.

But I'm scared.  I've never done anything so huge.  Moving here to Portland didn't count because it was in the same state near my family.  This will be the first time completely on my own.  And I do mean completely, because my family will likely not be very happy at all that my "vacation to visit Daniel" is permanent.  But I know that I'm not just doing it for him, I've been planning it for a very long time, it's just now I know is the time that it needs to happen.  I'm sick on multiple levels, and I will not make it through another winter here, also on multiple levels.

But the other changes will be equally difficult.  Going back to the nursing home way of life, with only $30 a month and constant roommates, who constantly die.  And I will probably be without Internet or phone to speak of, because I will have such limited income.  When I was in the nursing home nearby, a friend and some family paid for those things.  But the friend is no longer involved, and as I said, my family likely is going to be angry and likely not in the mood to support me.  Not to mention not knowing what the size of my room will be or even the location.  And I'm terrified of all this.  But I will do it.

Why?

People will say it's because I love Daniel.  That's true, but the deeper reason is because I love myself.

All of my life, my entire life, I've been a doormat who missed the doormat rapture.  I do not want to go into all the details here, but I know that is true.  Most of the time, it was out of my control.  I was made to be dependent on other people and sometimes almost expected to just lie there and take whatever life hands me until I die and I'm walking in heaven with Jesus.  I believe and hope in the future that I will be walking with Jesus, but I don't think I'm supposed to lie on my deathbed so to speak for years just waiting for it.  The physical part of my disability will always be out of my control.  The fact that people can walk away with three of my iPods will always be out of my control.  But I don't want my iPod back, especially the last one.  I hope it is used in good health with happy memories.

What I want is myself back.  My beloved old bus driver to and from high school for almost all four years on the little special ed bus was a lady named Louise.  Her favorite saying to me was "it takes two to be a doormat.  One to do the walking, yes, but someone has to lie there as well to be walked on."

I want to own me and my surroundings and my decisions.  I want to wake up and have it be okay instead of something to roll their eyes at that I do nice things like Daniel does, that I talk to safe strangers who need the connection on public transit.  I want people who actually love me for that, I want people that know that I'm already whole, not just waiting for that heavenly future.  I want to feel the sun on my skin when I wake up.  I want to do something big and artistic for the world.  I want to have room to stretch and grow.  I want to be able to physically feel love, not just read or talk about it.  I want the big adventure everyone talks about.  I want to go home.

All of this is worth whatever difficulty comes.  So, all that's left is to get a ticket.  If any of you can now or feel like helping out with the tip jar go ahead with my undying gratitude, but I understand about these hard economic times, so if you can't, don't worry.  It will happen eventually.

And I pray for a safe journey home and a doormat rapture for all of us.

And yes, I'm pretty sure I've safely avoided the Xanax, at least this time.

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