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Showing posts with label artist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label artist. Show all posts

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Diagnoses and Living with Fibromyalgia

Just wanted to write some good news as to what I have been up too.
Been sick for many months so everything I have been doing is just taking care of myself. It is all you can do when you have a terminal disease.

After many tests then experimental natural medicine and Pharmacy drugs I hope to be on the road to normalcy. If you have never had a long-term illness normalcy is not a normal life. It's just the most normal I can hope for.

When I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia the doctor said: "I have good news and bad news which do you want first?"
"Give me the good news first."
"Well, Denise you have Fibromyalgia. Now you at least have a name for your illness."
"And the bad news is there is no cure so you will have it the rest of your life."




I was relieved to know it wasn't imaginary after Ten years of being told it was in my head. I learned how to live and work with it. Knowing I had to use time and energy wisely helped. The main problem was family and friends didn't understand what my body was going through. They would suggest exercise, special food diets, detox chemicals and metals out of my body. People just didn't understand I needed to sleep 14 hours a day. I couldn't go for walks anymore. I had to save the energy to bath, cook, clean house.

I was only 30  years old when I first had signs of the disease.
I continued to work and raise kids until I turned 58 years old. As the years passed the disease progressively got worse.
After getting fired for being sick I went on disability. Its taken three years but I am having some luck with a better life than it had been. Working is a privilege when you have a terminal illness. So many take it for granted, I loved to work. But my body said, "You are done, no more."

Its ok now I do all the things I didn't have time or energy for. Writing, painting, reading, and family on the days the pain isn't taking me down. Just started taking Lyrica, it is expensive but the Fibromyalgia is getting worse as the years go by. I do have a good Doctor who is willing to make my life as normal as possible if being limited is any kind of normal. I smile and try to laugh when I can it helps to accept the miserable existence.

Have a great day I will try

Monday, March 13, 2017

Words, Paint, Voice

A writer paints a picture with words,
A painter paints a story with paint,
But, a singer paints a story and a picture with their song. by Denise Fletcher


Sunday, January 15, 2017

Making and effort to increase my income retirement sucks without enough money

Beautiful paintings from Michigan artist by clicking this link it will take you to FineArtAmerica

I am privileged to be able to share my artwork with other talented artists from Michigan.








Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Just to tired

Haven't posted since the end of July 2016, just not enough energy to do the things I want to do.
For those who don't know, I have #Fibromyalgia disease.
Lately, illness is just too much to deal with. I don't know if it is the medication that makes me tired, the illness or getting older. Maybe it is just all three.

Positive note finally got to see my daughters oldest child he is 18 years old now. Hadn't seen him for 10 years. Wish I could say he is doing well but he isn't.

Started this post weeks ago and I am just now getting back to finishing it. LOL
But that is what it's like with Fibromyalgia. The other day it took me 6 hours to ship a box with UPS and I dried a half a load of laundry. That was it for the day.

I have been painting pictures to sell on eBay sold one of another artist but I have faith I will sell mine too.

Been going to art class one night a week to learn other styles, it is helpful.

Well got to go take a nap so I can go to class tonight.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Many shade's of abuse

Abuse doesn't have a color, religion, gender, age, or financial amount of income.

The little blond, blue eyed child is always happy in school. Yet on the way home, this child becomes solemn and slower in the child's step towards home.

The brown hair, brown eye child is always getting into fights. Why? Could it be that at home someone is always picking on this child?

Two or more children are playing sex games and showing their private parts to others? This is a sign they are being taught this at home or somewhere? Could be church, neighbor, sibling, childrens club, and on and on.

You see these children in the store and their eyes have this pleding or blank stare. The signs are there, you just have to look. It is better to be wrong than say nothing at all, instead in the news later on you hear of a child missing or dead. 

Monday, March 28, 2016

Road blocks, I see away, then another road block, Just call me lucky

A year ago I was stressing over where I would live this year.  In August 2015, I found a house to rent in October, felt safe again. Worried about having a place to live, food on the table and medical insurance to cover my medical needs.
Here it is Jan. 2017 I get a check in the mail from a lawsuit against the mortgage company Chase

$55,000,000 settlement against them And I received Cha-Ching a grand total of $8.93. Well, just call me lucky. 

February 2016 I found out my medical insurance is being canceled, now I have insurance that doesn't cover my medical needs. They cut food budget down to $16 a month, so no more healthy food that is low calorie. Instead, it is high in carbs to make the dollar go further.


I am not asking for a lot just a place to live that is mine and no-one can kick me out. That I can afford to heat and keep in good condition.  Just would like to feel safe in my old age since I have not felt safe most of my life. No vacations, fancy car or jewelry.  Just a safe, warm place I can call home.

I have no fine jewelry left, had to sell two years ago to buy food January 2014.  That was the winter I got sick and could not run my truck the way it should have been to produce enough money to support the truck and drivers that were driving it. Instead, they stole fuel money from me and blew tires on the truck. Each tire cost $500. Face it, I just make lousy decisions should have kicked the drivers out of the truck then.
In May 2014, I sold my truck paid off what I could. Took three months off to grieve all my losses over the previous seven years.

Last year (2014) I gave up the fight to save my house, overpriced because of the financial crisis that everyone went through.  I fought the mortgage company a little over two years. Sometimes you just have to give up a battle to win the war.
I have a steady income, better off than others, but not enough to get where I need to be. Safe.
Now to where I am going with this story is I recently tried to do a Fund-me page and because of sexual assault and child abuse they have it on hold. I am trying to raise money to get 3 Novellas written.  Because of the topics I have anxiety attacks and have to stop writing. It is taking me a long time, and to tell the truth, it is very uncomfortable to relive the violence I went through.
I keep trying to no avail, to publish the books so I can generate more income. So I can buy me a little house to live out my days on this earth without feeling in constant fear.

Well, I haven't achieved as much as I would have liked by now, Jan 2017. I am painting which is soothing to the soul.
I do have a small house I call home now; it is not mine but I feel safe here.






Sunday, August 17, 2014

One to many speed bumps

Chapter One


She sitting on a wooden chair in the bathroom of a shabby apartment. She had lost her house, she lost her job and now she is thinking is this all there is to life. She looks up at the cracked plaster walls with water stains running down the walls from years of steaming baths that had taken place over the years. Wonders how many other lost soul have been there in her state.

The table wobbles so she places a book of matches under one leg to stabilize it, the table sits under the window with a water-stained window shade, and it has yellowed from age. The edges are torn. The bathtub claws hadn't been painted in some time, now it’s peeling away from neglect. Denise feels just like the bathtub claws, from years of neglect.   She looks at the colorful pills she had poured onto the table and started to sort them into piles by color. She thinks what a contrast from the beautiful colors of the pills to the state of her mind and the dreary room she sits in.  Is this all there is, is this the only solution.

Chapter Two


The car comes to a stop behind the house and Brad wakes her up to tell her she is home. He tells her goodbye, then his sister and he laugh. Denise gets out of the car and watches as they leave, she goes into the house. The hell hole. She is 7 months pregnant and 15 years old, still lives at home. Her mother wanted her to have an abortion but, Denise wouldn't have anything to do with that. She loved Brad and they were going to raise the baby. She had been working by taking care of 3 children and cleaning their house 50 hours a week. She had bought a baby crib, high chair and redone them to look like new. She had bought baby clothes, bottles, diapers, she was going to name her Christine Marie if a girl and Bradley Jay if it was a boy.

She didn't know that the day Brad dropped her off at home was going to be the last day she was going to see or hear from him again. He never even kissed her goodbye. The only thing she remembers from that day was the laughter coming from the car as they drove away.

In September she started homeschooling, because of her condition, this was in 1971 pregnant girls did go to public school and her family was too poor to send her away to one of those boarding schools.

By now she realizes that Brad was never going to be there for her and the baby, so she decided to give the baby up for adoption, so the baby would have a better life than she could give it. Denise did not want the baby to grow up in the hell hole she was living in.

When she was 14 years old her father made her leave home, because her mother had made her older sister leave, her sister was 18 and had graduated from high school. But Darlene would not work or go to college so their mother said she had to leave. Denise's father said, "If she has to go, so do you." Denise cried and begged her mother not to make her go. She was going to school and babysitting, she was a good girl. She was only 14. 

Chapter Three


Denise ended up at her brother’s one-bedroom trailer in a trailer park in Farmington Hills Michigan. He was married to Patty, they did not have any children. She got a job right away babysitting another couple’s child in the park. That was for the summer, then they moved to a house in Redford Township Michigan in September. Denise started school and she had chores to do around the house for her keep. Her bedroom, kitchen, living room, and bathroom. She had to have those rooms cleaned and homework done before she could go out with her friends and be home by 6 pm. she got out of school at 3:30. It was a sad time for her, she felt like a prisoner. Then one night her brother-in-law Sherman showed up at the house drunk, he tried to rape her. She screamed and her brother threw Sherman out of the house. The next day her sister-in-law and her went shopping for supplies, paint for the wooden floor and burlap to staple to the rafters, to fix up the attic space so she would feel safe. She wanted to go home so bad, but her parents wouldn't let her. This went on for a few more months until she just couldn't take any more of the abuse from her sister-in-law. She called her mother and begged her to let her come home. Finally, her father said she could come back. By now they were living in Howell Michigan and her sister Darlene was already back living there too.

Denise had met Brad two years before while they lived in Onaway Michigan, Brad was now living in Jackson Michigan, not too far from Howell. Denise's father was still being verbally abusive to her, they got into a fight one day and she ran away to Jackson to find Brad.

Denise hitchhiked down there, but on the way three guys pick her up and threaten to rape her, she fought them off until she jumped from the car, she ran to a payphone to call Brad to come get her. She was terrified of what could have happened to her by those three men. 

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Inside my head the past natters away

I am inflicted with PTSD because of the abuse I have endured from family and men in my life. I look back now and realize the abuse I went t...