An Update Because I Should 

I’m about the same.  Maybe a little better. Sleep, or lack of it, seems to be an issue of late.  Some of you mentioned Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in my last few posts and I can’t deny that the signs are there. Almost all of them are. At this point, I do not see any foreseeable healing taking place. For starters, in the past I have had therapists tell me that they can’t help me   It leaves me feeling more defective and broken than ever.  The other issue is trust. The mental health field has done amazing things for me but mostly they just want to give me more medications. Or different medications. Or higher doses of the medication/s im already on.  You know, you get the courage to go speak to someone, and trust me, it takes so much strength and courage, and then get told that they are going to change your medications, see you in 2 weeks, there’s the door. Ah, it’s so complicated. The last problem is cost. It costs $95.00 an hour. Canadian medical does not pay for counselling or therapists. If you have Extended insurance you might have coverage. I have extended benefits through my employer but it does not cover counselling. And around it goes.  And as I said, I think these issues run so incredibly deep I can’t be fixed. I will never be whole. I promise from the most bottom of my promiser, I am not saying that for attention or for someone me to tell me that healing is possible. I truly believe it is not.  And so, I will just live my best life. It isn’t all bad. The times of darkness are dark but the times of not being depressed are okay. I still go to work everyday. To help people. I come home and do housework and yard work occasionally. I go out and see people and do things. It’s not a horrible life. And at the end of the day,  I am way more concerned other people’s problems than mine. Plenty of people suffered horrific abuse as children and need help.  There are much more worthy causes. And the world is going to shit. There are so many other problems that need to be addressed.


Okay. Here is a post I started the other day. I called it, “Short and Chubby Need Not Apply”.
Okay. I will be the first to admit that I am very, very picky about what I wear to work. In the past I have bought scrubs and worn them once or twice then pitched them in the donate bin. First, the have to be petite. Not petite as in a thin person but petite as in short. 5’3 short. They have to be a cotton/poly/spandex mix. The pockets need to be in certain places or I won’t wear them. The knees need to be reinforced for when I am putting on compression stocking and down on the ground. The colours must be neutral. (No red, yellow, green etc.) Only black, grey, blue, beige… They have to be durable and really good quality. Normally I am cheap thrifty and won’t spend a lot of of money on clothes. But when it comes to scrubs, particularly the pants I can easily spend $50.00 on a pair. 
For the love of all that’s good and true. 
Who in their right mind thinks it’s okay to have low rise scrub pants? 

Case in point. First, I am not a size 0. I’m a size 10/12. The person wearing those pants has never bent down to put on compression stockings. Because her skinny little tush would be showing for all the world to see. I spend a lot of time bending down. 

And the other problem is my stomach. My food baby. It hangs over low rise pants. I need mom jeans. I do. Not quite the 9 inch zipper but I need pants to cover my ass and my stomach. My patients and clients thank me! 😁

That’s that for me tonight. I’m going to bed. 

14 thoughts on “An Update Because I Should 

  1. Sorry to read that you don’t believe you will ever get better. Isn’t there a saying someone said, whether you think you can or you whether think you can’t, you’re probably right.

    Dunno who said that.

    As for low-rise, they are the only kind of pants I wear, even when I wore scrubs. What I really hated of all, were drawstrings. Oh my gosh. Hate. Them.

  2. Sometimes all we can do is breathe through these times. Welcome them in, look them in the face, and love ourselves for surviving. The sadness will lift. In the meantime, here’s my hand.

  3. No advice from me. Do whatever works best for you. And know you are loved. World-wide.
    Why oh why do they use people in advertisements who are obviously never going to use the product in question. People in their (very) early twenties and wrinkle cream are the ones which have me saying things at the television screen.

  4. Wish I had a word of comfort for you, Birdie. With all that you’ve been through, living your best life is no small thing. Sometimes all that you can do is keep trying.

  5. Low rise scrubs? Now THAT’S depressing.
    I hear you on feeling as if you’ll never be healed. I feel the same way about myself and the older I get, the harder that is to accept.
    So. We go on. Imperfect as we are. As impossible as it seems sometimes.
    You have no idea how strong you are, Birdie. I know that you are strong, even if you don’t. Trust me.

  6. My heart goes out to you, and I have been feeling down and tired over the last few days as well. And my sleep is almost nil. Sending you much love and warm hugs.

  7. Birdie, you are such an incredible survivor. You are stronger than you ever think. We, your fellow bloggers, can see it clear as day. All you’ve been through and you still live, love, work, care for others all while trying to care for yourself. You are an amazing woman and I am in awe of you. Xxooxx

  8. When I had my accident I went to see a psychologist who didn’t even help me. It was a waste of my time and money. So I took my PTSD as he called it on by myself. Walking helped work out my problems a bit but buying coloring books and coloring helped a great deal. It took my problems away from me and Gave me a better way of fighting them. I was able to climb out of my black ditch faster and go back to work without repercussions. Find what you like to do on your time off and zealously do it. It might help, and it might certainly be a whole lot cheaper. Finding scrubs that fit have always been my problem too. They never had my size and they were always expensive. I started buying the unisex kind because they were mostly made for guys but they fit like a dream. Try them.

  9. You’re right, these things don’t ever really go away – and shame on the people who try to make us feel that we’re just not working hard enough. They have NO idea. But we do have those good times that you talk about and they sound pretty frequent in your life. I’m so glad for that. “And so, I will live my best life.” Rock on!

    You know why they make those low rise things? Because you’re supposed to be sexy when you put on the supportive hose or wipe a bum or change a soiled bed. Didn’t you know that?

  10. I can’t wear low rise either. I’ve never been able to; it’s just not my thing. As for mental health services, it is horrible that we don’t have coverage for that in our universal health care. So many people are in dire need of it and so many people would greatly benefit from it. Even private insurance doesn’t help that much. When my husband was working, he had a lot of good benefits but mental health care wasn’t one of them. There was some coverage but certainly not enough to give proper support. And $95.00 an hour is on the cheaper side. There are more expensive services.

  11. OMG, I did some home health nursing last year and the only style of scrub pants I could find were low rise (it’s all they sell around here). For heaven’s sake, every time I bent over (which was constantly) my ass would hang out and I was always desperately trying to cover myself. For awhile my solution was long sweaters, but when the 90F heat of summer came that didn’t work anymore. Then one day the final straw came when an 80 year old man smacked my ass and said I was asking for it because I was “half naked” in his living room.

    You know what I have to say to low rise scrubs? FUCK OFF. You know what I have to say to the outrageous amount of sexual harassment in the home health field? Fuck off. I hope you’ve had better experiences.

  12. I think once we accept the fact that the things that shaped us are never going to be erased, we can learn to manage our pain more effectively, not only in spite of the bad things but because surviving gives us an edge. Maybe a jagged edge, but an edge nonetheless. Being damaged doesn’t mean we are not whole. It just means we are a different.

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