I’m going to sit down this weekend, it’s already on the to do list, write my obituary, tuck it in an envelope in front of the binder I’m beginning with all the information about my logins, my passwords, how I’m paid for my writing, and when I have an extra $20, it’s going to go in the envelope too, because that’s what our local paper charges to post them. I know. It’s why mom didn’t get an obit in the paper; we couldn’t afford it.
I hope it’s not needed. I sincerely hope that this is all an exercise in what if and planning, that maybe by some aspect of Murphy’s Law that if I fill out a will template, and get everything in order, that it won’t be needed and someday I can smile and laugh about being over prepared. I hope.
The sad thing is, I lost hope a long time ago. I don’t want to be a downer. I wish I could be all smiles and glamour photo shoots telling you that I “beat” Fibromyalgia and for only $397, you too, can take this class and learn how to deal with it. Except, I’d be lying, and honestly, with my lived experience, I can tell you that anyone selling those classes is lying too.
These days, my pain levels are through the roof bad. And sadly, along with them, my mental health is just as bad. From sniping, passive aggressive customers at the jobs (whom I’m told don’t exist), to knowing there’s absolutely fucking nothing that my doctor will do for me in any way shape or form to help, and I cannot afford even BetterHealth mental health treatment to try and deal with it, because being abandoned is one of my cPTSD triggers, I know the score. I’m disposable. As much as people say “no humans are disposable” it looks right past the lived experience of so many to gaslight them into thinking that someone with the power to do something actually will.
As the sole wage earner in our family, and a disabled one at that, that obituary has to remain in the folder, in its envelope, and not be used. It has to. The pain and suffering otherwise would be too great. But I’m going to write it anyway, because I believe in being prepared. I don’t think the Girl Scouts had that in mind for their motto, that at some point, you have to be prepared for everything.
I wish this week’s blog could have been happier. I really do.