Trippin Through Time

save me

save me money marge

I woke up in a place I didn’t recognize with people asking me questions like did I know the date or where I was. (I did not.)

My last memories were being home with a headache while my mom was at my sisters recovering from a broken ankle surgery. She had broken both bones in a fall down some stairs at the beach. We had some traumatic years before this and some of my stories may circle back to those stories. We had lost my brother the year before to a car accident. My family were just trying to recover from years of hit after hit. Trauma was a lifestyle. Mostly we got by and some of this contributed to my brain issues. While I had a history of headaches and other health issues it was unpredictable. This kind of stress is bad for anyone.

I want to document how I recovered in the hospital as it was a very vague time. I had care workers helping me to learn how to walk again and take care of myself in other ways. I had people making sure I was recovered enough to shower, brush my hair and teeth, get dressed. Etc.

I was weak as a new foal at first. Some people have to relearn a lot more than I did. I seemed to impress some people and worry others. I may have answered strangely as I’m also autistic. My thinking is fairly literal. I knew how to knit and crochet while in hospital but not why I couldn’t see. ( I wear contacts.) I kept losing my glasses and forgetting I should be wearing them. When I was given my contacts back life was a lot better.

I have some differential memories of how vague my understanding was then. I have since rebuilt my memories. It’s weird having a dual view of the past and the distant past. I can look back and see how cloudy my understanding was then. At the time it was like I knew pieces were just beyond my grasp and that I should be more frustrated. I was always asking weather I was on medication that was making me docile. I think now it was just my brains way of cushioning me from the traumas that caused the Hemmhorage and upset my life. I needed time to heal.

Years later I also developed PCOs. Poly Cystic Ovaries. Essentially I had multiple honeycomb cysts on my ovaries. This causes irregular periods like months or years in between. Before the BH I hadn’t had one in 2 years. PCO can lead to weight gain and in my case I gained an extra 100+ in high school. I was used to people misjudging me based on my looks. I ate pretty healthy. I can honestly say as someone who has studied nutrition the thing I did do back then was under eat and eat too many carbs. Things that are normal for others are too much for me. I used to walk and work out so that wasn’t it either. Before I ever got fat I was lifting weights and walking miles a day. There was no reason for me to be gaining so much weight. This behavior continued through my adulthood. For the next 20 years I struggled with solutions. I saw specialists. I took medications. I did all sorts of tests.

I was depressed. I was overweight. I hadn’t gone to college because I was not from a well to do family and I was told my stepdad to start paying rent at 18 or go to college. Having major health issues and graduating early I decided my focus was to get a job with health insurance. I worked at the local Albertsons. From 17-20. The grocery strike of 04 was traumatic and the behavior of the company management made quitting a necessity. I did love my coworkers and maintained lifelong friendships with a few of them. I was a cake decorator and I loved it.

On another note, I had the worst migraines. Not sure what caused them as nothing would bring it on that I could detect. I hadn’t ever noticed I had peripheral vision issues. I was always told I was clumsy. I would knock things over and run into things but your brain will create a map and I function as a regular person because I masked well. I had an optometrist at Costco who held my eye prescription hostage until I went to see an ophthalmologist. While I understand the concern for what he saw in my vision test(I have dislaced ocular discs and they look like a papilledema to the untrained eye but they were pseudo) he was a jerk. I had no health insurance and it cost me a lot of money to get a benign diagnosis. For 6 months I was under the impression that I had a brain tumor. I honestly thought I was dying. I was maybe 20. I had professionals tell me I maybe had 6 months to live. Then I had a fantastic diagnostician. He was a trainer and taught ophthalmology. He was able to diagnose me with a pseudo Papilledema which is displaced ocular discs. Much better than the trauma of thinking I had 6 months to live at the beginning of my life.

Being told you are likely to die makes you want to live. I paid off my medical bills. I took myself on adventures. I didn’t drive because of the migraines and blackouts I used to have. I decided when I received my vision diagnosis that it was safer if I never got a drivers license. (In theory they would give me one, which is a bad idea.) I started taking the bus and walking everywhere. I found lots of things that were worth living for. I was an avid reader. I loved travel books, sci-fi, fiction, mystery, romance etc. (The first book I fell in love with was black beauty when Ι was 8)

I had decided to find things to make life worth living. During the strike I worked at Wild Oates. (The position wasn’t available again for another 6 months) After the strike I went to work for Honey Baked Ham. It didn’t pay well but I learned a lot. Some of the things I learned have stuck with me. I was promoted from holiday help to Party Tray Supervisor. I enjoyed it. There were not enough hours and no health insurance off season so I kept checking in with Wild Oates. Eventually they were hiring. I looked elsewhere too but they were my ideal choice. I worked there from 2004-2011. With that short stint at HBH. I was counter help for about a year, then cashier, then receiver. I became the receiving manager. I loved it. I was good at it. I am strong, and capable of keeping good records. My task management was good to. I really enjoyed the drivers, the people I worked with and the type of work. Not all good things last as we learned earlier. Whole Foods was changing management style after a company change up. Oh did I mention they bought Wild Oates? With Whole Foods came health insurance. They weren’t as efficient as Wild Oates but they had some good parts. The main difference was that Wild Oates was still maintaining their values but with enough corporate shakeup eventually you get rid of all the good parts. I liked the original Whole Foods guys. They had good intentions. The brand was from Texas and they did have odd choices like everything seemed to get a sprinkle of bacon. I don’t know what their obsession with meat was about. Texas? Wild Oates was more vegetarian friendly. However Whole Foods CEO had become a vegan and he became a little too outspoken, so I believe thats what left them open to bad management when he stepped down. They were looking for a reason to fire me because they wanted to decrease the pay receivers were getting, so they pounced when they had the chance. I was not earning as much as male counterparts. I was one of 3 women in my position. I was on a 10 min break buying my mom a bouquet of flowers when she came in. I got called away to receiving and said oh can you finish paying while I take care of one last thing. (I was almost off shift and we were going to lunch after) She decided to use her card and keep my $20. The checker shouldn’t have let her as I had handed it to them. The company decided to fire me for letting someone use my discount number. Wildly if I had lived with her at the time this wouldn’t have been a problem. I was told by unemployment this was wrong and this was at a time when it was hard to get hired.

Back to the important part, Wild Oates was fantastic, and I met Sara who was from Peru. Sara invited me to travel with her. I told her about my previous health scare and she said all the more reason to live. I couldn’t afford it then and she said I’m going again next year so you save up and come with me. I decided why not and got another job. I walked into a shop down the block and asked if they were hiring. The shop owner said you’re hired. Then remembered her composure and got me an application. That woman ended up being my best friend Suz. She has dred locs and is one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. She had been a customer at the juice bar and recognized me. She was finding herself and hadn’t made many friends in town yet. She had been told to explore and make friends where she enjoyed activities. So I took a second job at a baby boutique. Susan didn’t want to run a baby boutique but her father thought it may inspire her to have children. She wanted to open an art store. She studied art in College. Sometimes it takes a while to reinvent yourself. Sometimes you take bad advice. What ever you do per-sue happiness.

dressmakers, tailors, cosplayers, historical costumers, and generally any people who sew are artists

people who work with fiber (knitting, crocheting, etc.) are artists

embroiderers are artists

weavers are artists

lacemakers are artists

shoemakers are artists

leatherworkers are artists

textile, clothing, and fiber arts are still art forms, even though they’ve historically been devalued in many societies

Like, Nate is shown to suffer through his grief, coping through alcohol, and he’s not portrayed as weak for his emotions.

You think Eliot would be the most obnoxiously masculine person in the show, being a former military black ops dude who busts heads for a living. But he isn’t! He’s passionate about cooking, he loves kids, even when he sleeps around he treats all of those women with an equal amount of respect; when Hardison is affectionate with him he often denies his small moments of reciprocity but instead of getting violent (”gay panic”) he simply goes “Dammit Hardison!” and is embarrassed because Hardison usually does it to embarrass him in front of a girl he’s flirting with, but he’s never ashamed or humiliated. 

Speaking of Hardison.

Oh, Hardison.

My dearest, beloved marshmallow.

The most loving and affectionate member of the team is a black man. This guy hacked the bank of Iceland to pay his foster mom’s hospital bills. He plays the violin, he paints, and he just feels so much empathy for the people they help. He’s the first one to go in for a hug, the first one to admit his feelings, this funny and delightful man who is so fiercely protective and loving. He owns up to his weaknesses, admits when he needs someone, is so supportive of his team. The first one on the team to call them a family! 

I think snuggies are the one example almost everyone knows. They were invented for wheelchair users (Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a coat on and off of someone in a wheelchair? Cause it’s PRETTY FUCKIN HARD.) But now everyone just acts like they’re some ~quirky, white people thing~ and not A PRODUCT DESIGNED TO MAKE PEOPLES DAY TO DAY LIVES 10000X EASIER.

Like… of course there’s no reason for that guy to knock over that bowl of chips. However, the person it was actually designed for has constant hand tremors that would make this pretty rad, but since we don’t want to show that in a commercial, here’s an able bodied guy who can’t remember how gravity works.