Three weeks without medicine now. No one could tell me where my coverage went. Finally found out its because I can teach yoga 15 hours a week, Im no longer disabled. How empowering! But yet I only feel Ive been defeated again. The government is making cutbacks. Which means I no longer get disability benefits or medical insurance. Being a sole proprietor, Im butting heads with those who help with health coverage. Obamacare isnt what everyone assumes. And Im losing everyone of my doctors and specialists. My neurologist, kidney specialist, foot specialist, rheumatologist, sleep psychologist, physical therapists and primary care physicians dont accept any insurance I could fight for or afford. Cash out of pocket for the 5 meds Ive reduced down to from 12 since I began practicing yoga is still over $700/month. Im exhausted. And stiff. And the pain and inflammation continues to increase day after day from all the arthritis and migraines. My disability is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from the 15 years of beatings, broken bones, rapes, starvation, traumatic brain injuries and terror I endured as a child. I was doing so well, now 20 years later, doing everything I could/can to not be a victim or survivor--just me--to help others like me, to inspire others around me, to just be. And be well. If not better than the rest, but most definitely better than that which raised me to die. I wanted to work. I didnt want to be the butt of everyones facebook posts... The person who doesnt look disabled in pictures and while out and about on the good days... I wanted to live and not be forced to rely on anyone else. Ive fought so hard. And so long. And today I cant hold a fork, or spoon, or pen. 10 years of violent flashbacks from 35 years of violence and trauma deep rooted into my psyche as normal and to be expected when I hear the word love. So much blood, so much death, so much carnage was my normal. For years I didnt even exist as a real human in their minds. My own name would send me into a rhelm of darkness onlookers would be traumatized watching me fight my way out of. So I had to legally change my name to something completely different back in 2011. On the darkest day of the year, hows this for raw and real... Even I faulter and cry, dragging myself across my home, not giving in and forcing myself to stay strong at the gym, then crying from the pain a light workout causes. And now, back to the studio I go. I will persevere, but my gawd, today is dark. Today its really hard to be me. In This Moment - The Fighter
Posted on: Sun, 21 Dec 2014 23:03:47 +0000
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