Life is normal, I am insane. I take the pills. I go to all my appointments. I have neurological therapy that includes occupational therapy, recreational therapy, speech therapy, and extensive neurological tests.
I also have physical therapy as well. All of these appointments are in Ypsilanti so I have been getting cab rides, or rides from friends if I can. I hate cab rides. I feel unsafe. I see many of the drivers more than once now. I have to have pre-packaged conversations, or else I get into these really tripped out discussions which is more often the usual.
I volunteer a lot at the church. I’m there 3 nights and two days, at least. I’ve been volunteering at Celebrate Recovery Tuesday evening’s. As well as utilizing the group for my own personal recovery! I try to fix up the kitchen and get it stocked and ready for Sunday morning. I try to meet with my small group on Thursday. I miss the comradery I have with those special people. They are my family now, too. Saturday morning I watch babies in the nursery during Refit exercise class. Then of course, Sunday is my big day. I like to be one of the first people in the church so that coffee will be made before anyone else, other than Pastor B, is there.
If it wasn’t for assistance with our rent and food, I don’t like to think of where we could be. The frustrating part is that Sean is working his Irish bum off. At least we have our home. It’s been our home since March of ’07. The kids are healthy. Sean and I are healthy. Even my entire extended family is healthy, wealthy, and wise. We’re living on the brink of decimation, but we’re still just barely over the line for survival. But we are surviving.
I dare you to tell me that welfare recipients hate work.