Took a couple of days off this weekend. Back to the grind. The last several days I have been up most of the night and gotten my best sleep in the afternoons. I still sleep like ten hours a day, but most of it is during daylight hours.

I’m back on the Turmeric. I think it’s helping with the bad knees and ankles. I started taking Vitamin B and Vitamin D supplements a couple of weeks ago. I think I have more energy and optimism overall now.

I think I am losing weight. If the way my clothes fit is any indication I really am. Most of my shirts are quite baggy now. Might have to drop down a shirt size. It also looks like I’m carrying less fat on my abdomen. My calves are less swollen than six months ago as are my thighs. I don’t eat much anymore besides protein and vegetables. I try to avoid sugar and carbs.

Got turned down for a long term care facility. I’m not shedding any tears over it. In reality I don’t want to go to long term care. Ideally I would just stay in my current house and just widen all the doors to be wheelchair accessible. My parents aren’t on the same page as I am. They aren’t enthusiastic about making such modifications to the house.

I have come to the conclusion that I don’t want things to be easy. I want to struggle to get my walking ability back. I want people to doubt me. I want to be fought every inch of the way. I want even my own family to actively work against me. They originally doubted I could graduate college with schizophrenia. Proved them wrong. They originally thought I couldn’t live alone with schizophrenia and on disability pension. Proved them wrong for over seventeen years.

Most people thought I made a mistake when I went to long term care to get better. I was flat out told I would die in that facility. Well, eight months later I walked out the front door on my own two feet. I went in that facility on a hospital stretcher. I walked out on my own two feet after only eight months.

I’m facing doubts again. After this third stay in the hospital, I lost all of my mobility. Physical therapy hospital didn’t help at all. Neither did the home therapist. They all gave up on me too soon. Sure, it took a few months. But I am back to walking short distances within the same room. I can transfer into the wheelchair. It is a foldable wheelchair so I can get it through doors. I could already get everywhere in the house if the family would just break down and pay for the modifications.

As far as modifications go, all they would need is to widen all the doors, put a railing in the bathroom, and get some of the clutter out of the house. My parents have a hard time throwing anything away. I swear if I outlive them, I’m going to rent a dumpster and throw tons of Knick knacks and crap in. I refuse to deal with it after they are gone. I won’t live the life of a hoarder. Was forced to do it as a kid. Forced to do it again after being on my own for seventeen years. After my parents are gone or moved to a nursing home, never again.

Oddly I’m not feeling hurt or betrayed by my family not believing in me. In some ways they have never believed in me. I’m going to get mobile again, at least for short distances. I am going to keep losing weight. My goal is to eventually get back to the same weight I was as a freshman in college. I could easily walk three to five miles a day back then.

I might never be able to walk that far again. But, dammit, I refuse to give up. Between being severely bullied by my school mates as a kid, twenty five years of schizophrenia, three years of congestive heart failure, surviving eight months in a long term care facility, moving two states away to be closer to my brother (at least he believes in me), and seeing crazy ass tech advances in terms of AI, automation, biotech, fintech, etc.; I’ve come too far to cash out now. Give up? Not happening as long as I got breath in my lungs.

I don’t know why my parents refuse to make the modifications to the house to make it handicap accessible. Honestly, I don’t care. I’m going to get better and mobile in spite all the road blocks people keep throwing at me. I want to be doubted. I want to be told I am a liar and full of shit. It just makes me more determined to keep beating the odds. Beating the smart money has been the mode of operation for my entire life. Personally, I think the “smart money” ain’t as smart as it’s cracked up to be. I just keep proving them wrong because that’s what I’ve done my entire life.