Bene's Battle By Bene Barrymore

I can't do this anymore; I'm losing strength and purpose. I've tried so hard to survive so I can contribute my talent, my knowledge and help to other with environmental illnesses.. Emotions right now are all over the place. One minute, I'm connecting with wholeness and the next I'm crying, scared to let it in because if a wonderful turn around doesn't happen, I'll be "here" again and I can't bear this anymore!

This last season, July's pesticide application let me know that I don't have and can't expect backup help if I need it on the spur of the moment. I can no longer do it myself.  Twenty six years, I've tried.  If financial help happens now, I'll keep on the path of inspirational greeting card lines, EI assisted living and my own safe housing with caretaker.  If not, I must give it up, let it go and release this life with my dreams still in me, and my art work not seen.  The panic and the extra exertion will kill me if the pesticides et al do not. 

Cognitive and managerial function lessened as funds were no longer available for proper nutrition or supplements. I feel like I'm "living on fumes" - draining any last amounts of energy life force. In the late 80s, my doctor said, "You're on Medicaid. We can't do any more for you."

I dread the cycle of the financial month --virtually funds gone by the tenth --food stamps by the 20th and quite literally starving until the third again.  Yes, some part of me can say, "Okay, God, I can hardly wait to see how you work this one out."  But something like two years into this worsening routine, my body trauma is not following suit.  Blood pressure shoots up, breathing is stifled, fatigue overcomes --but little sleep!  The panic on top of that when notified of imminent pesticiding and my car in the shop and necessary help with moving to storage only minimally available nearly did me in!

I get agitated about three weeks before the pesticide season starts and start to pack and sort my belongings for storage. I abhor and dread the thought of packing for and being in the car, but to go through the motions of freezing food, counting supplements for baggies for the car stay, etc. etc. because I know I must.  I've tried saying, "Okay, I'll take this or that along and work on it because I haven't gotten it done here."  It doesn't happen.  It's one foot ahead of the other --"where do I go to the bathroom?  I need to get gas. It's too hot in here. Where do I go now?"  etc. etc.  The most relief I get is doing a jigsaw puzzle or some greeting card designs at the library --as I count the hours left in the day.

It hurts in here (the apartment) all the time.  My eyes burn. I can barely see. The carpet, drapes, and walls all need to be cleaned of pesticide residue and other which I cannot remedy because it's a rental.  I'm so used to enduring.  I don't even connect much with how I feel, nor do I have words for it if I try.  Awful Angry Devastated.  There.  At wit's end, terribly uncomfortable, skin always irritated, nerves shattered, all of that fits.  But has for so long.  I've just lived with it and worked about ninety nine percent of the time at maintaining hope for a way out and put myself into it to the exclusion of anything else.

Ultimately, I can allow myself to fail - surrender, and let it be what is - but unless there is change, that does not lead to going on.