Today’s depressive episode is surrounding the fact that we/I need to find some way to generate more income.
We’ve never had this problem
Julie and I have never been in debt for anything other than our mortgage. Never had any credit card debt, student loans, car payments, or other common debt that many people deal with. Despite many years now of meager income, we’ve always been able to budget what we have in order to make ends meet.
We’ve never been wealthy, but never been destitute. We’ve been below the poverty line, but have been able to live a life comparable to those above it because we have always made financially sound decisions. We’ve never had to be stressed about money, and have been deliriously happy about our quality of life.
But facing the imminent reality that our home is gone, and we will likely get no funds from the insurance, that might change. We are facing the idea that we might no longer be able to survive on my VA disability income alone. We will likely still be responsible for the mortgage for the home that no longer exists. We are loath to file bankruptcy. I know that bankruptcy is common, and that most of you would suggest it for us, but we’d much rather find a way to pay off the debt. We may end up there, but would like another way.
How to find more income?
But is there another way? No idea. How can I pay for the housing we currently need AND pay for the housing that no longer exists? I’m broken (mentally and physically) in such a way that employment isn’t feasible. We still have 3 non-school age children at home that I’m only marginally able to take care of, and so having Julie find regular employment would be very difficult.
Non-Employment Options?
But what about other income possibilities that aren’t based on employment? That don’t trade time for money? What if Julie wrote a book about being the wife of a PTSD vet? She’s eloquent and has a degree in literature, and I’m a walking talking head case, so I’m sure she could write about her own experiences and produce a good product (heaven knows I provide enough content!). But is there a market that would read/buy such a book?
We obviously have a blog… and some people make money from them. I can’t imagine how many people it would take to read/follow this for it to be a source of income though. That likelihood seems doubtful. I don’t think I’m really that interesting. Do people like reading about depression or depressing things? That’s questionable.
What if we took what we have remaining and pursued the idea of living on a boat? Could we sell a TV series that follows a PTSD vet and his family of 10 as they live in the close quarters of a boat, attempt to learn to sail, swim with sharks, try to catch our own food, and struggle to survive living at sea? If people were willing to watch Honey Boo-Boo, they might watch me yell at a broken sail in the middle of a raging storm, right?
Sell a kidney on the black market? I’ll keep that at the bottom of the list. (a friend once told me that a testicle goes for about $200,000. I think with 8 kids I’ve proven mine are fully functional, but I think I’d like to hang onto them).
I’ve read all sorts of reports that say that begging is very profitable. I could put on some military clothing and hold a cardboard sign saying I was in need… and it wouldn’t be a lie!
So, give me your thoughts on the above or give me your best ideas for income generation that would allow Julie to stay in the house.
I know that I’m probably further away from sailing/cruising than I was when this blog was started, but I’m still dreaming of it.
I came across this post from one cruiser, Beth, who was speaking with another one, Kent, asking him why he wanted to change his lifestyle and move onto a boat.
His answer was fascinating to me, and I thought you might like to consider it as well. I don’t have a rote answer when asked about sailing, but if I were to choose to have one, his might be the one I’d like to have.
It’s an interesting thing about experiences that they don’t necessarily have any connection to real events. Your experience might be a fantasy.
Think of the person who has a near-death experience. They aren’t transported in any way, but they see/hear/smell things that aren’t really there. But that person REALLY experiences those things. The experience is real.
Or for another example, think about cases of mistaken identity of a deceased person. If a person had died in an automobile accident and the authorities called you to tell you it was your relative, you would have an emotional reaction. Even if your relative came home as scheduled shortly thereafter and the mistake was corrected, your experience was real. Your emotions were real. You experienced the pain of losing a love one and the experience was real.
What I’m saying is that what you experience may not in any way reflect reality. You might feel perfectly safe but may really be in imminent peril. You might feel like you are in danger yet really are perfectly safe and secure. What you are experiencing might be a complete fantasy – a fantastic experience!
Why on Earth am I thinking about this?
I hope you never have the dilemma I’ve been going through. I’ve spent a great deal of time lately trying to trying to remember past experiences and trying to determine if they were real. As part of my journey toward mental wellness, I’m trying to figure this out. It seems to me that knowing what is real and what isn’t is important in normal human functioning.
Because of anxiety attacks, emotional breakdowns, and frequent nightmares that linger when awake, I have had a host of experiences that I know never happened, a whole host of them that I’m fairly certain have been tainted, and only a few that I “KNOW” happened exactly as I remember them.
Some examples I know didn’t happen
I’m obviously alive, but I couldn’t count how many times I’ve experienced dying. I know those memories aren’t of real things, but like mentioned at the beginning, the experiences were real.
I’ve been killed by being shot, crushed (inside a car), drowned, beheaded and more. These experiences come almost exclusively from nightmares. Sometimes I wake at the moment of death, other times it is suspended (time stops and I am frozen at that moment or just before), other times I’m instantly onto another experience.
During one repeated dream I’ve won the lottery and I’ve decided to use it to pay off all the debts for people in Melbourne, AR. So I’ve set up a table in front of Miller’s Supermarket and there is a line of people from town. As they show me the paperwork for their debts Julie pulls out a stack of cash and I hand it over.
One particular person (same guy every time) isn’t happy about something and/or just wants the cash we are handing out, and without saying a word when he is next in line, he simply pulls a pistol from his coat and shoots me in the head. I never wake from this, but instead am just frozen at the moment of the gunshot. I never feel the bullet, but am stuck asleep feeling the terror of knowing that I’m about to die, knowing that Julie will be shot next, feeling helpless to protect her/others, thinking about the kids, etc.
The event has never happened, but that terror that I’ve felt is very real. And the effects that the terror have on my life are real too.
Examples I’m less sure about
I wish everything were as easy as knowing that I’ve never died. That one is obvious. I’ve also never played the lottery, let alone win it.
But what about less obvious memories? I have one dream that started a few years ago about an experience from my missionary work in Argentina. The dream takes place in a very poor area and not a particularly safe one. As is culturally acceptable, one hot day we asked at one house if we could have some water and they let us in.
The three men inside were as unclean as the house. Heavy blankets covered the house and the darkness seemed oppressive. I felt very uncomfortable being there, but my companion tried to share a gospel message. This didn’t last long before becoming contentious. Feeling very insecure, I notice one man had positioned himself in front of the door.
Stopping my companion mid-sentence, I grabbed him by the arm and stand both of us up saying, “thanks for your time.” Pulling my companion I turn and move to leave. The man at the door stands and grins like he knows something we don’t. All I said was, “you will move!” At the moment he shifted to look behind me for support I opened the door and slipped us out the door, still dragging my slightly confused/annoyed companion behind me.
Every time I have this dream I’m filled with ominous feelings. What I’m not sure about is how much of this really happened. I know the companion and I really visited that house and were admitted for water. I’m not sure at all if my memories of what happened in there are real though. It’s possible that what I’ve described was real, perhaps it happened as I remember it. Or maybe my memories have been altered by my constant nightmares. Because I’ve repeatedly experienced it this way I can no longer recall it happening any other way. Is my brain recalling real moments, or is it tainting my memory and making them terror-filled?
Things I know are real
Well, I know I’m alive (as much as any person can I suppose). I know Julie loves me. Basic facts like my name and who my kids are seem pretty obvious too. I know I used to be healthy, mentally and physically.
I wish the list here could be longer. Because the nightmares and waking anxiety are so pervasive though, I have started to pay attention to whether any memory I have is real or not.
I’m sure if boiled down, that I’d find that 90% or more of what I remember is “real.” But how do I know which 90% it is? I can’t even group large items together (like my mission) and say, “I know all of those are real” because there might be some of them in there like the one I mentioned above. Experiences I’ve had (especially the traumatic ones), conversations I’ve been a part of, places I’ve gone, things I’ve done, things I’ve seen… all of them are under self-examination.
And do I do about events when I have two or more sets of memories about what “really” happened? What a mess!
What any of this means…
You’re guess is as good as mine about what I’m talking about. I think I started out planning on talking about how I’ve had some terrible experiences that were completely fantastic and unreal (thus the title). Somehow that morphed into how those experiences have made it hard to distinguish between what I’ve really done, and what I’ve only imagined. So I guess this post, like a few of my “experiences”, has very little meaning. I’m sure someone, somewhere has a better way of explaining what I’m getting at.
IF I’m exploring “what is real” and IF I were smart,maybe I wouldn’t have written any of it and instead just showed a clip… it would have spared you all from reading my gibberish.
So, if any of you are willing to talk about the issues you might have (TBI, PTSD, etc), I’d love to hear about how you deal with this type of memory trust issue. Please share your experiences below, or share via social media to your other friends who might feel the same way.
I have some bad news. I know that this will come as some surprise to you. It certainly caught me off guard. Sit down if you must, but brace yourself. Here we go…
IT TURNS OUT I’M FAT!
I don’t know how it happened, but it did. I’m sorry for springing it on you like that. I could swear I went to bed last night at a trim 205, but when I awoke this morning I was a bit more than that. Well, more than a bit. Some. Okay, lots. Fine, like a LOT more.
I tip the scales at just under 310 right now. People tell me all the time I don’t look like I weigh that much, but I do. My large frame hides the pounds well I guess. But it takes the same effort (and pain) to move this much weight around whether I look 300-plus pounds or not. “Not looking” 300 pounds doesn’t help my joints feel better.
I’m not sure where the line is drawn for “morbidly obese” but I imagine I’m probably getting pretty close to it. If I want to be around to see kids get married or to play with grandkids then I probably ought to do something about my weight. And I should do it soon.
The Weight Problem(s)
The issue with my weight gain is that I am experiencing a high level of pain most of the time. Right around 205 is where my weight was when I was in the Army and healthy. Since my back pain started in 2008 my weight has steadily climbed to where it is today. The pain causes vastly reduced activity levels.
Adding to the issue is that I get depressed about the chronic pain and the thought that it’ll likely never go away. Also, I have PTSD from some events while serving in the Army. Stress is a common source of weight gain. Over eating is a common tactic to distract from the pain/stress/anxiety that I’m feeling.
The Weight Solution(s)
I wish I had an easy solution. The two things most people mention when they talk about losing weight is diet and exercise. Exercise is possible, but almost always comes with an increase in pain level. When just walking to the mailbox is sometimes crippling, how do I set an exercise routine or schedule?
And diet? I could change what I eat, but in moments of mental distress I know that I’ll cheat. Getting rid of the negative thoughts or emotions will probably always take precedence over the calorie count. I know it sounds stupid (even to me) but eating is a distraction from life’s problems.
The Weight Resolutions
So… what do I do? If I can’t commit to exercising regularly due to back pain and headaches, and can’t commit to “dieting” due to moments of mental distress, what options are left to me?
Just letting myself continue to balloon doesn’t seem like a good option. I’ve made new commitments to getting myself the treatment I need for mental wellness, wouldn’t it be a shame to expose myself to a whole host of new physical ones?
So at this point all I’ve been able to make a resolution about is to get healthier by losing weight. The method of doing that is still open for discussion. As always, encouragement and ideas are welcome. Also feel free to share this if you think you know someone who could offer good advice.
For comedic relief,
This is what I feel like each Sunday getting dressed for church!
