The photo is from the plaza in San Pancho, where Christina worked for a decade in a hair salon.

I received this update from her today. She is asking the universe for buena suerte — good luck. She could really use some.

 hi dear friend

ive been living in my car pretty much all the time and its just a big cluster fuck of bags

my friend said she sent 20 bucks for gas so i came on to paypal to see and i realized you sent this amazing donation and others that i didnt respond to … im sorry

im trying to get a plea for basically “bad operating” of a vehicle so . . . that wouldnt be a felony or damn jail time,. or 6 months plus with no license . . . and a way smaller fine

i am asking the universe and all its magic and all its friends to send me so much buena suerte

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I’ve been avoiding writing about Christina. I cannot find any hope to highlight in this story of hers, as her life continues to fall apart. She’s stuck living at home with her parents — which, by the sound of it would be intolerable even for a week-long visit, let alone two years and counting. With no transportation, she is isolated — she can’t visit friends or even take Ollie to the dog park.

And her body. She now has issues with her lungs requiring antibiotics and prednisone, three accessed teeth …

Somehow she has retained the capacity for joy in small things and a bit of hope for the future. I can’t see it, but I’m glad she can.

I am not sure why I’m writing this, aside from a commitment I made to myself in August 2020 to tell her story.

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Christina fell asleep at the wheel and smashed her van into a telephone pole, breaking her sternum. The police mistook her for a junkie and are charging her.

I wish I was dead.

My van is gone.

My way to escape the stress here at home is gone. 

The tiny bit of freedom I had is gone.

I don’t know what to do.

I'm really scared.

Worried.

Done.

I can't breathe.

I am really just wanting to die. 

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Took Ollie for a ride today. He was an anxious mess. I figured a Petco trip might leave a happy memory. On the way home my van was shaking so hard I almost started crying. Someone was tailing me and it felt like the tire was gonna blow. Trying so hard to stay calm, say the right words. I drove with one hand to keep an arm on him and the leash cuz he kept trying to jump off the seat and go on the floor and under the middle console. So ya phew was too much and I just wanted him and me back in my room — my bubble — safe from stress.

I'm gonna check tomorrow and hopefully it's just the same tire that keeps going flat. I can NOT lose my wheels. That was probably why I teared up once the van started convulsing. It was going 60 and I hadn't felt the shaking in town so ... hoping it's just a damn tire.

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Six weeks ago, I predicted that Christina would have to return Ollie, her adopted pup. I’m happy to say that I was wrong. While the situation isn’t perfect, the bond seems worth the pain. For example …

When the family was together I wasn't watching and had Ollie’s leash in one hand and was looking the other direction and my dad came around the corner and Ollie went to go to him forgetting I had his leash and wow. Took my shoulder out and I tipped over on my stomach. I was sitting in the grass and then knocked and dragged sideways. I'm not mad lol. Just hurting.

My aunt from South Carolina invited me to visit for a few weeks. Have to think about it, as it’s a bit pricey to have Ollie down below on the plane.

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Christina has an incurable, progressive, painful condition that she spends the majority of her days and nights trying to manage … Although the isometric exercises and yoga she does—when her hyper mobile joints and chronic fatigue allow—do help, little by little EDS is claiming her ability to live a normal life. Already it is difficult for her to walk or to drive, hard to digest her food or to sleep, and challenging to play with her young nieces or to keep pace with friends her age. She now has trouble doing even simple things: opening the refrigerator, turning a door handle, reaching for items, holding her head up.

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