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November 29, 2020

Type-1 Diabetes Diagnosis at 10

Type 1 diabetes diagnosis at 10, after two years of juvenile onset pre-diabetes. Onset of type 1 and total pancreatic failure happened at age 10, at Girl Scout camp. I got really sick, but at night while being cared for by another parent, I managed to get an alien visitation, tall whites, smaller greys, they brought a tablet of something they put under my tongue, to buy me some more time without insulin. They had put the parent in a trance of some kind, while they talked to me, but then they left. I woke up, and asked for water, that’s all I remembered until recently as aliens leave screen memories.

I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at the age of ten around May 31st, to June 7th of 1991 after two years of pre-diabetes symptoms. You see diabetes is perfectly treatable if caught early but due to circumstances beyond my control, it wasn’t caught on time. Although if Dr. Hartzell is reading this, I will say it wasn’t his fault, we know whose fault it was and leave it at that.

But anyway, total pancreatic failure happened at Girl Scout Camp, I had symptoms of a cold, that got me deathly ill. I was very ill, deathly ill, but didn’t know it as I hiked with powdered lemonade in water by my side. I had to pee a lot during all our hikes give or take since for the last two years, I was peeing a lot anyway. Back then I had no idea about my 22q, just knowing I wasn’t feeling 100%, which got worse when I had real maple syrup with breakfast, which back then was Eggo waffles.

These days, in comparison, breakfast, is toast or a muffin. Back to Girl Scout

Camp, I was drinking water a lot, going to the bathroom a lot, and I almost didn’t make it through the weekend. I was being cared for by another parent, only because this parent was going out of her way to take care of me, since mine hadn’t gone with me that time. This was part of the brainwashing I’d later endure, which said “Do not escape me, I demand you stay close to me so I can know where you are at all times.”

I was deathly ill but still functional, because eating was making me go to the bathroom a lot. Over night that weekend, the parent was helping me drink water, since I was thirsty without knowing why, also going to the bathroom a lot. We were isolated in a cabin, one evening aliens did enter; leave a tasteless yet powdery tablet under my tongue, and left. They were tall whites, greys, which had the authorization from what is known as the Galactic Federation Council to intervene. In the present, we got rid of 45 successfully, in a non-violent manner, although I was paranoid enough during the election, under a great deal of election stress, desperately wondering if the human race was going to survive this.

But anyway, in the past, I had to deal with my pancreas shutting down in a situation where I didn’t have any means to treat this. I was scared, but well, my family fed on my energy, because it must have been delicious at that time. I was a very ill camper who on the way home, got majorly motion sick. Girl Scouts had provided a perspective on myself I didn’t have in the toxic environment that was Catholic elementary school. But that is another blog post, for another time.

See even back then, at 10 years old, I had untreated pediatric schizoaffective and OCD, both illnesses are marked by high anxiety. I was stressed not to mention terrified. I got home; the cold turned into something else, flu? Mom thought it was the flu; my blood sugar was sky high at diagnosis, enough to put me in diabetic coma for around three days, without damaging my brain as it could have happened this way. I was thin, dehydrated, and not able to eat much. My mother was wondering what she was doing wrong, or what she had done wrong.

I was taken to the doctor, as 911 were called at the doctor. My family had assumed diabetes could not happen to children. My family friend had told mom to take me to the hospital, at some point. The thing is, nobody knew what this situation was save some of the doctors, and by nobody I mean my family. People didn’t know jack about it. They had no clue.

I almost died of type-1 diabetes, but I do not know my blood sugar at diagnosis. I wish I did but I don’t, that takes doing to extract information from the ‘rents. I’m trying to figure out a way to keep these memories from flooding me. I remember falling asleep at home, then waking up in the hospital. I had dreams, of the rose garden, a water park, and a horse galloping in grassland. These near death experiences are things I have rarely told my friends about. I almost died of a preventable illness, due to ignorance.

The rose garden, after reading several NDE books on the subject, is a common experience. I recovered from diabetes when given insulin, taught about injections, and in general put at ease about having it. Hospitals scare me to this day. It is why I rarely go to them. It is why I do not need to get sick with COVID, having done my usual fine job of taking good care of myself. As a Germaphobe, I get paranoid about the darndest things, since I can sense germs/see them/identify them.

I now know the same process can work with intestinal bacteria since I was working on a paper about that for Greyschool.net today. All my major assignments are turned in, ready to go, I’m waiting on grades in others. Yes, type-1 diabetes is scary for me to deal with daily. I’m trying to make my peace with it, because I need to get it under control. I’m trying to at any rate, and I didn’t admit I was a germaphobe until COVID-19 came out to try to control this planet. Right now, actual people who have the vaccine are medical doctors. I’m next in line, since I’m high risk with type-1 diabetes, etc. I’m high risk, so I’m staying home a lot, wearing a mask a lot, and being careful whom I hang out with. They’d better wear a mask. I’m doing my best to survive here.

November 22, 2020

22q Necessary Surgeries

I have low blood platelets from 22q, which means that I need to see a hematologist for advice on potential hernia surgery. I’m going to give metaphysical healing options a chance, since they keep my symptoms under control. Crazy, but this stuff actually works. Okay, well, I have a shot at trying different treatments like chi ne tsang or other massage modalities. I’ve been told I do not necessarily need hernia surgery, yet. I’m scared either way, surgery or no surgery, I’m wondering if my energy levels will go back to what I was doing back when I had enough money that didn’t get lost through paying every last bill that the rent demands be paid as a form of rent.

Low blood platelets are also called autoimmune thrombocyotopenia and it means that my white and red blood cells do not always produce enough of themselves to help me fight infections. This is why I get skin infections, or an average cold or flu. With COVID, it is why I have to endure long-term quarantine. I have to despite the fact that I’ve come up with reasons to interview people for my anti-dating book. This anti-dating book is all about dating the way I’d rather go about it, as opposed to following conventional social rules.

I had palate surgery in 1989 without being hauled off to a hematologist by either parent, so I wonder if that is what caused me to throw up blood, but I spent the night alone in the hospital, without anybody sitting with me. I had out of body experiences in surgery, feeling the device used to hold open my mouth.

That night, no family had stayed. I was stressed out, and this is where my hospital phobia began. I’ve managed to stay away from hospitals for a hot minute, because I do not get myself hospitalized by getting a flu shot. Anti-vaxxers concern me only because they think that a dysfunctional immune system gives you an excuse to avoid it. But hey, do you want a type 1 diabetic walking around with measles, mumps or rubella?

All of these illnesses suck. I have illness trauma, which gets set off at the slightest hint of a cold or flu virus. Now that I’m aware I can heal fast to spontaneously, I’m not as paranoid seeing as in 2018 I got rid of a cold in a week using Reiki, same with the flu. That was officially the last time I was ill. I’m limiting my exposure to anybody because COVID is just plain terrifying. I don’t know when I need hernia surgery or if it will work at all, I have to pay a visit to a medical intuitive to get a reading, just to see if our feelings agree or not. I feel I need surgery but my doctors feel it is a big unknown, in particular with low blood platelets.

I got wisdom teeth surgery with local anesthesia instead of getting knocked out all the way. I had to fight them on this because they were insisting on anesthesia and I was battling them on it. My endocrinologist at the time had specifically stated not to use anesthesia. She was insistent on this. I was fighting them, with mom having the nerve to walk out on me in the middle of this war. I was like, wtf? Excuse me, I needed you to back me up. Just wow.

Normal people don’t bail like that but I didn’t really notice mom’s schizoaffective and OCD until I injured my knee in 2016, which forced me to stay home with them for three weeks. In that time, I saw little things like how my dad toasted my hash brown patty.

Getting stable was hard for me because of my family constantly trying to manipulate me out of it. I think my mother psychically triggered my left knee into dislocating in yoga that day. I had nothing else going on except, this thought “I’m going to get a good job, with benefits, and get off low-income medical care,” but I had gone to yoga that day to do something fun. There blows my knee after getting hit hard by a wave of psychic debris. I didn’t have time to shield against it, this is why I lost my balance, I thought I had heard laughter too.

This is just part of my ordinary paranormal-laced existence that has a lot going on in my head. I’m not the one with a heavy denial complex, I can’t afford it. My skill set includes blowing up glass, which was happening a lot my sophomore year, from September – November of that year, I had no rational explanation as to why this was happening, so I’d sometimes throw glasses at the closet to make something up that was believable since I never knew when that would happen. This skill is unpredictable, which is why I have to take my medication to avoid huge emotional fits.

I do not know what surgery will do to any of my talents. I have a wide range of talents that have manifested in the present, including claircognizant, or channeling information from subjects I don’t know about. I’m a trance medium, which I’ve known about since my Tribe days, since college. People did know I was schizoaffective back then but called it schizophrenia, since schizoaffective causes a person to have delusions and hallucinations. I want to capture all my talents on film someday.

I’m just run down at this point. Hernia surgery is iffy only because of my low blood platelets, and my doctor sent me a scary email about how I may not get better with the acid reflux after surgery, which makes surgery an unknown quantity. I can’t have pad Thai, or enchiladas for a hot minute, which is concerning but I can live with the dietary restrictions. This Saturday and today I have had acid reflux attacks at 4:00 a.m. which left me unable to go back to sleep, so I just lay there. I’m wondering what to do about this hernia, so since there are so many unknowns I will have to take myself to a medical intuitive who can read for me, either confirming my suspicions and backing me up, or helping me convince them I need surgery. I know what not to do.

November 16, 2020

I’ve been interested in science fiction since before birth. Dad watched a lot of TOS while I was in the womb. My parent’s first date after I was born was Star Trek: The Motion Picture. None of the other kindergarteners were drawing Romulan warbirds from the original series. I didn’t get palate surgery until 1989, so I put up with my voice as it was. I am paranoid in my adult life that it is obvious I used to have a nasal voice, and I throw a lot of flonase at it. But anyway, I’ve met other people with 22q on Facebook. I’m unlike them, and the psychic who gave me this reading was so right.

Science fiction and paranormal events have haunted my life, most of my life. From the second Star Trek the Next Generation premiered, I was hooked. Yes, it counts as my favorite TV show from the 1990s. I was a huge fan of the original Superman movies with Christopher Reeve, and then Smallville grew on me but not without pissing me off because Clark did something stupid to make his mother lose her baby. Then I realized I could only stand watching it every so often but I watched 10 years of material in two from 2016 to 2018.

Seeing as I have super powers of my own as a psychic, which cause me endless grief, well, just look at the doorknob picture on this blog page, Smallville is triggering to watch, in particular with its take on mental illness. Mania turns me evil as red kryptonite does to Clark Kent. The Ex used to put me in situations when I couldn’t take my medication, which then led to him picking on me to cause conflict, stress, triggering me into stuff. I broke up with him before I started watching Smallville again, but then Smallville also gets into relationship trauma, what makes a good relationship, or what makes a bad relationship.

Yes, I have realized that at 36, when my parents left, I had to unpack a lot of trauma. Trauma which made me feel vulnerable, but then I was taking classes at work 2 future, and learning how to rise to the occasion when giving someone shit becomes necessary. After a two week-long class, I felt like I couldn’t take the drama so I dropped Work 2 Future in favor of occupational therapy at San Jose State. I lead a drama free existence in this present, since the source of drama, my mother, moved. She retired in Spain, using my energy to manifest her house. Okay, dang it, I feel run down in this house even as I try to heroically manage a brittle form of type 1 diabetes that is difficult to manage.

In the present, since May 2020 I have not been able to drive. Mr. hernia makes me way too anxious, my knee bends, but I was driving without my knee bending right. This created exhaustion, even if I was able to eat ketchup still in 2017, but that went where it went in 2019. But anyway, I’ m a very gifted psychic. Almost too talented, and I finally sucked it up and emailed Novus Spiritus. This was an organization I avoided joining for years. In my twenties, I continued the quest for stability, looking for mediumship classes, occasionally finding them.

What irks me about those groups is that some are ill-equipped to understand my disability as it presents now. I have to write a bunch of manuals under a pen name if only because I feel driven to provide guidance to other people. Many of us with mental illness are truly up the creek, barely being given a paddle because it is difficult to come out to a psychiatrist. Now I can tell them my pagan religious leanings. I’m centrist, neither all the way left-hand path, or all the way right-hand path. I’m in the middle.

It’s a relief to have psychiatrists who understand me. I needed pediatric psychiatry. But okay, some do not understand why this is, and average 22q folk on Facebook are probably flabbergasted as to why I didn’t get treated as a child. But anyway, yes, there was a lot growing up that was overlooked. This is why people who lack understanding on what I went through, having to endure sleep deprivation, not beign treated in high school, and having to go to school all the time with coffee the only thing keeping me awake throughout all the sports I had to do.

See, my family had a denial complex, and still does. Mental illness denial, and psychic talent denial. I can’t afford to maintain it. Period. My ever expanding skill set now leads to shutting off cars, see why I can’t deny it? In March I was exploring this but you see, my left leg is swollen. I’m trying to throw clove essential oil at it, to see if this improves the situation.

Now that I’m aware that claircognizance is my highest talent, and I have no clue how to say this in Spanish, but hey, I can read for business eventually when I have the experience to start my own. At 39 I feel like I’m trapped in the low-income lifestyle, that my life is in limbo. I’m wondering if I’m going to be healthy enough to make money since mr.hernia has to go. Clearly that has to be done, but I can’t get all paranoid, ooh I have autoimmune thrombocytopenia, it could cause a brain bleed and all kinds of hot messes. We don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to cause myself more anxiety than I already have. I’m so anxious that my medical record calls it anxiety state. My theory on why is: mom’s and dad’s symptoms in my body even with all the medication I throw at anxiety state. I mean that’s literally what they say. I try to sleep it off, medicate it, meditate it out of me, the only insane theory I have is that it is other people’ s feelings. Yes, community, its time I get proper training with respect to my chronic illness.

November 13, 2020

The Angelic Presences and My Imaginary Friends

I grew up getting consistent bouts of pneumonia every winter, from having a hernia that has been there since birth. I had palate surgery in 1989 give or take, but nobody dragged me to a hematologist before that? Now I hear, in light of my need for hernia surgery, that I should see one. Okay, but back in my childhood, I had a hernia that nobody looked into any deeper. It was what made me vulnerable to pneumonia or bronchitis. Great, just great. Yes, now I know that I need to look into it given that I could wind up with either this winter. I can’t afford a single cold or flu in the present, much less the nasty COVID.

Angelic presences would be all around me when I’d have to lean over the humidifier to be able to breathe at all. I started reading Doreen Virtue books this year, to regain the ability to use angelic protection. As an adult, this talent got fried with my skepticism, but then I realized it protects me against psychic attacks from my mother. My psychic talent has always haunted me my entire life. I am now using angelic protection to protect myself from everything. Somehow as a child, I was able to sleep better but the truth is I needed pediatric onset schizoaffective and OCD medication. Nobody looked into that in further detail. Yes, to my readers, this may freak you out.

Anyway, I’m busy looking for a job in the present or figuring out a way to become majorly self-employed. I’m already self-employed, seeing as I’m trying to write every business plan in my head without overwhelming myself. In the past, I had spirit guides, who taught me how to manage my talents, or at least helped me organize it, who helped keep me shielded. My imaginary friends went on car rides with us. Imaginary friends abounded keeping me, an only child, entertained. I didn’t have a sibling, and now I view that with relief since now I know sociopathy runs in the family.

Angelic presences of the genuine article keep you safe/make you feel safe. They add to a feeling of safety, because they want you to be safe. I realized in my adult life that the cords sent to angels to help you feel their presences were cut. I was reading this in a Doreen Virtue book, which helped me figure this stuff out. Cyndi Dale also mentions angels in her books, right next to demons. I’m used to otherwordly shenanigans give or take, and I try to look at it objectively.

Yes, workplaces take it or leave it because I think working, as a psychic would be taxing on me with my current state of having a hernia. I’m in too much pain to think straight while writing, I’m waiting on test results, and reading full-time would just be a bad idea over all. But hey, I can do it, I’m good at it, it is one more way to make money on this nasty little planet known as Earth. Angelic presences are real, angels are real, demons are real. I hate to say this, but psychic stuff is real. I known my lingo now, I can spout words like clair-whats it. Clairvoyance is the ability to see the future in visions, although sometimes I wonder what is a day dream and why does it turn into a vision that makes me squirm? I try very hard to take care of my type 1 diabetes, so that it never inconveniences anybody in the present.

November 11, 2020

The Real Deal

I was born with a high enough IQ, despite my 22q/Velocardiofacial syndrome. I’m trying to own my disability here, but to force myself to get to Catholic Charities while nobody makes himself or herself available to talk to me, after I’m not feeling well, and having to take the light rail, shows total disrespect for my time. Assume that I do write daily, that my time goes into something resembling discipline and productivity. I’m offended by my region’s organizations that supposedly help disabled people like me find a job. I say supposedly only because this hasn’t happened for me yet.

I’m not as affected by my 22q, unlike other people. I’ve been ruled competent enough to work. I write copy for Textbroker, that is hard for normal people, it could be assumed this is hard for somebody with schizoaffective like me. I called someone out on his or her shit, as not having respect for my time is assuming a disabled person will put up with your crap. I’m fed up with my families’ lies about my IQ. Quit being ignorant about my genetic disability. Quit depriving me of knowledge about it, as you did throughout high school since I didn’t have a diagnosis of schizoaffective.

I practically diagnosed myself OCD, okay, so why the hell do rumors swirl in Spain about me? When somebody didn’t disclose my disability to family at all? If people are having children, they ought to be told about the possibility of 22q. Both my parents have the deletion I tell you, they just haven’t bothered with genetic testing, much less getting themselves treated for their schizoaffective and OCD. Throw OCD in there, and not being on medication is a nightmare. For once, I would like agencies in Santa Clara County to respect me, respect my time, and respect that I’m not as affected by my disability as other people.

A friend of mine about NAMI has already warned me; when someone warns you about a person, organization, or something else, listen to it. They mean it; they go out of their way to warn you, so there. I’m writing my anti-dating book because I’m writing down my experiences with dating, my horrific dating experiences, and why I’m not interested. I’m at least releasing my standards out there so that the “interested” parties know about it. If you can’t hang with my standards that I’m going to bother to start having, then you can’t hang with me. If you believe my parents lies, then you can’t hang with the family brainwashing tactics you will have to learn to resist although I desire no contact with family. I’m working on limited contact, since they do not change their behavior towards me. I don’t drink, at all, deal with that, and I don’t touch caffeine either, I need to take my medication when I go out, which is also something you have to deal with, and never for goodness sake, put me in a position when I can’t.

November 9, 2020

Keep It To Yourself.

My life at ages 1-3 was peppered with paranormal events but was also ordinary. I am grounded in ordinary reality which means that I want to look for a job, and that I work diligently to find one despite my chronic illness. Dad and I were lost in Yosemite on a walk in the woods on one camping trip. Long have I had confusing memories of this event, since I was carried on his back when we were walking on this one trail that I wish I knew of now. The family has long joked about something happened to us, resembling alien abduction, a subject I got myself interested in during high school.

High school took place in the 1990s, an era of “keep your depressive feelings to yourself.” Nobody knew how serious my health problems were, let alone myself. I have severe brittle diabetes that I’m trying to control here, and I’m working very hard on this in the present. But this is a trip into my past, since my memories of this day in Yosemite are powerful, etched into my brain. I wonder if these memories are real, because in 2010 I channeled it while a family friend had come to pay us a visit.

I wrote it into a journal, typed up the journal, left it on my USB somewhere, and didn’t look at it much since it sets off my PTSD. Hell, what sets off my PTSD is watching the Orville, in that episode when Commander Kelly gets injected by something and is screaming until the antidote is given. Memories can’t stay buried forever, unless they are professionally erased. I had memories arise out of nowhere, and I am trying to read more about this stuff give or take the way I have some knowledge of it in my head.

MILAB is an acronym in the industry standing for Military Abductions of Alleged UFO abductees. At this point, I’m concerned about my family’s lack of medication taking, their psychic skillset, and why they don’t see a psychiatrist for proper help for their own schizoaffective, since I really am schizoaffective while many MILABs are not. I want to meet more of you people actually. I know there is a local contactee support group I’m going to follow-up on getting to through Zoom. I remember we walked through the woods, ran into military, got taken into custody, dad put on a VR helmet, and what he saw in there freaked him out. Military doctors scanned me saying I’d wind up diabetic, so I’m useless to them.

He was hypnotized, and made to feel physically weak, while he was sitting in a chair. They injected me with something that burned my blood. It would have left me dead in a few days, looking like a normal head cold. Noise from above startled me as I screamed in the woods, wondering who would rescue me. An alien ship much like the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars drifted over the trees, which is why the cargo hold door being open in any scene triggers the crap out of me.

The ship sailed through with people who would later identify themselves as Pleiadians firing lasers at the military people, scattering them. Everybody ran for the hills, while the aliens somehow transported us up, treating me with whatever, my memories are scattered at that since they put a helmet on me, putting my brain back together, since the military had tried to kill me. They were the ones who put up blocks as to my inner knowledge about my psychic talents and what they were. Some stuff is not safe for the Internet to write about out in the open but shall we say that it will keep me safe for the rest of my life, given that I can scare the crap out of anybody with my skills.

Hell if they tried to kill me back then, but didn’t succeed, I scared them to death didn’t I? Some nights while I mull the ethics of my capabilities, I get paranoid wondering if I’ve been genetically enhanced like Dr. Bashir on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. I get that paranoid, wondering if I have been given unfair advantages.

They didn’t interfere with things they shouldn’t have though. I was born with a high IQ, but see the old man has degenerated into drinking, not taking medication for his dementia, and in general letting his talent atrophy. When you do not use it properly, the universe or yourself can strip yourself of your powers, shoving it deep into your unconscious mind. This is something a hypnotherapist does. I was born with 22q, and my life is full of paranormal events, that I just can’t put on ignore.

I’m wired a certain way that is far more powerful than just having a disability that influences type 1 diabetes. I have had an interest in science fiction from an early age. It could be said that in my adult life because I take Lamictal, I’m hard to brainwash, manipulate, or otherwise turn evil. You can use psychic talent for the greater good or to hurt people. Your talents eventually make you crazy if you choose the former, hurting people.

My family has long been ribbing me about my interest in UFOS. This is a life long curiosity, having seen them, knowing they are real, and actually witnessing them over long swaths of my life. At 12, I saw Catalina Island lights on a cruise, which set off the UFO/science fiction interest yet again. This is another blog post, for another time.

I found this page http://pages.suddenlink.net/anomalousimages/images/text/milab.html while looking for a good definition on what MILAB is. Please remember that this stuff causes people serious trauma, just like a war vet, and we are traumatized people so before you go thinking this stuff is funny, it isn’t. My life is haunted by the paranormal, I have to start working as a psychic or for other psychics. I have some employment ideas but this month my blog is going to be about paranormal things and then next month I will be writing about employment issues.

Do not think that everybody who has experience with aliens is crazy, but they could be traumatized also. I will not get into discussions with people who find this experience too hard to believe, you know who you are skeptics, since my Facebook page is part skeptic, part believer. Thanks.

November 4, 2020

PDA Does Not Just Up and Walk Away

Many years ago by now I was born with a hole in my heart, which meant the blood flowed the wrong way. I could have needed pediatric surgery for this only because it might have been worse than people let on, at least the Akashic Records portray it as such, but bear in mind I have no proof of this situation, much less medical records for it. I need to take out my medical records if anything, only because I want to look into it myself. Occasional professionals know that PDA of the kind I had: (patent ductus atheriosis) does not always walk away, it usually requires surgical intervention. This is why I need to find my medical records from back then, only because I want to see if that was true.

Yes, this entire exercise in what actually went down, is kind of scary for a psychic just getting her act together about it, but what I think happened, makes some sense. Time traveling aliens and my future self healed me in this timeline. Considering how easily I understand time travel paradoxes, right alongside parallel universes, I think my visions may be right. See, the Akashic Records are a record of everything ever spoken, written, thought or said, and these days it is hard to brainwash me because I have decided to take Lamictal, which works wonders keeping me stable.

I saw a vision of my future self, holding a white rectangular device over my chest, and that was it. She got the process going. My version of PDA was difficult to get over without surgical intervention. That is my theory and I’m sticking with it, what I want to discover is proof of this. The proof is proof in my medical records that the clinic hesitates to release to me. I’m trying to figure out how to get my records, or have tried in the past, and I’m wondering if they are trying to keep a huge secret. The time traveling aliens had big round skulls, were white skinned, and had wide eyes that were white around the dark brown pupils.

My future self shoved memories into my brain; although this is stuff I hesitate to write about in public with my name attached. Yes, I have had dealings with aliens before, yes, I’m willing to come out as a Contactee, and yes, I have chronic health problems like type 1-diabetes, hypothyroidism, as well as anemia but that is my 22q or Velocardiofacial syndrome talking. I have interests in psychic phenomena and the paranormal, and have for a very long time. I have a hiatal hernia that needs taking care of, so I have a procedure today scheduled to figure out how it can be cared for better, to determine whether or not I need surgery.

If anybody else has had encounters with these sorts of beings, I have yet to find references to them. Sooner or later they will try to contact us on Earth. We have to depose of our problem on our own in this election. Then they will congratulate us for doing the right thing in a non-violent manner. So yes, keep on keeping on my readers, I’m trying to turn this blog into a story I can publish, give or take that I’m writing these stories down in vignettes so that eventually they could count as my Nanowrimo work for the month. I have experience in creative non fiction give or take. As a psychic, I can read for myself ladies and gentleman. Although, not all the time. There are some things I’m not meant to know about, like anybody else. I’m lucky that I’m a cut above other psychics who can read for myself.

I’m trying to make it as a writer, and this is the first day since the election stress I have managed to get stuff done even if the election anxiety is making me feel sick. I’m a busy bee in the present with many business ideas, projects, and stuff to get done. I have memories of my future self’s life that I can put into story or fiction. There is a lot rattling around in my head that I cannot get out, causing me psychic stuckness, blocks, overload, whatever you want to call it. I’m busy trying to stay afloat financially in a weird situation, but I just followed my instinct to pay my Internet bill in full.

Yes, instinct says, pay it all, pay it all today. So I went and followed that, and my prosperity skills say buy yourself some Spanish cheese since you can have that but not chorizo. Chorizo unfortunately has pepper in it, which is triggering of acid reflux. Anyway, I want to buy myself something nice with the money, for me and for me only. I pay the bills for my family so they don’t have to. But baby, I want some Spanish cheese, while we are discussing the present.

Paranormal things haunt my life because I have many psychic talents that just come with schizoaffective and OCD. I’m trying to wrap my brain around paranormal things in my life. Yes, they do exist; I cannot just throw out my schizoaffective with the bath water though. What I talk about is not fiction, what I understand is not necessarily fictional.

I’m working through my CPTSD, on my own with the help of specific self-help books. I’m working through my OCD on my own, in the same fashion. You guys know I work very hard on myself, but not too hard, since we know whom in my family doesn’t work on themselves. I can tell you guys this piece is about what I believe to be true, about what happened to me when I was hours old. Some take personally that I get older every second of every hour in the day. I’m sure that I’m doing my best to keep my head above water financially, trying to keep my bills paid.

So yes, you have read today my piece on what I think happened to my PDA at birth, I swear that everything I say is the belief of the author alone. I’m the author, and I stand by my beliefs, so if you think it didn’t happen, it may be as you think, but I know what visions I’ve seen. A vision is useful in telling you something that happened in the past, something that will happen or is happening in the present, and something that will happen in the future. Visions are good for something, they present a warning. Mom has some kind of heart condition, which is in my records, but I’m telling you I have heard from other doctors that PDA doesn’t walk away.

My goals are to write 1,000 words a day for this blog, and turn that into a 30,000 word novella. I will be using this blog to participate in Nanowrimo as I feel grounded enough to do so. On a side note, the Democrats will soon win the election or so I predict, only because I feel what might happen.

So you see, I will uncover the truth eventually, as the truth is out there. I will find a way to figure it out. I will find a way to write about it. I will find a way to be my real self while writing about it. Yes, this blog will uncover real trauma. I will have to split some articles in half. There will come a day when I will make real money off of this blog, and that day is coming sooner than you think. Stay tuned, and blessed be, happy Nanowrimo.

October 27, 2020

Wired and Tired

Sometimes mental illness can cause states of mind where you feel wired and tired at the same time. This is known as hypomania, which I had slipped into this weekend from waking up too early. This time of year does that to me. If I get consistent sleep, if the weather is not too hot as it has stabilized this year, if my medication is absorbing despite mr. hernia, then I’m going to be home free. Mr. hernia is causing me trouble, it needs to come out, I frankly need a ride to the clinic, and back home, someone kind and considerate, I know who it is but out of security I have to not talk about this too much in public. Yes, the woods are full of Her spies. But see, we keep family in the dark on purpose, mr. hernia is my business, I want it to stay that way so gossip mongering and fear mongering doesn’t spread.

October 27, 2020

Consistent Sleep and Benefits

Consistent sleep in a mentally ill person preserves good judgment. It means that you can organize information in your head, in my case. It allows for great writing to take place, because good writing is about making sure that you have all your words strung together right. Good sleep helps your body function as best it can. Sleep-depriving yourself is pretty pointless then. I mean doesn’t it seem pointless once you know about what good sleep can do for you? I’m trying to stay as healthy as possible with what is coming up, which is a scary medical test I’m not telling my family about. It is a scary enough medical test that I require anesthesia and a vetted for ride.

October 27, 2020

Sleep and Its Benefits

I’m happy to say that I’ve managed consistent sleep two nights in a row now. My goal is to wake up at 7 a.m. for a year, and get a consistent night’s sleep. This work is what will help me make money. I will be able to focus on my writing, write coherently, and get enough sleep to function. I will not be sick for a year if I get enough sleep as always happens when I’m well rested. Remember, I spent my childhood sleep-deprived, high-strung, strung-out on caffeine, and walking on eggshells at home. I’m living a different kind of life now, trying to get stable by waking up at 7:00 a.m. daily rather than at 4,5, or 6 a.m. Why am I doing this? I am trying to stay well here, amidst a pandemic. I’m trying to make sure I stay easy to get along with for most people.

iriavp

Type-1 Diabetes Diagnosis at 10

22q Necessary Surgeries

The Angelic Presences and My Imaginary Friends

The Real Deal

Keep It To Yourself.

PDA Does Not Just Up and Walk Away

Wired and Tired

Consistent Sleep and Benefits

Sleep and Its Benefits

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