For most of us, “surviving” the winter entails discomfort, inconvenience, perhaps loneliness. For Christina, survival takes on a more literal meaning. She has told me that the cost of heating her parents’ uninsulated house to any degree of comfort for her body would cost around $1000 per month. This amount is out of reach for her family. There is also increased isolation to consider and the depression that ensues. As Christina already often feels suicidal, staying in NH in her parents’ cold house – alone in a small minimally heated bedroom – poses a risk to her survival.

Her vision, as it has been for the past decade, is to be in a warm place among friendly people. Her default – the apartment in San Pancho – is unavailable. So what are her possible options now? I can envision a couple. Maybe you can think of others. If so, please tell me ...

Oh my sweet sweet girl, I can close my eyes and see her in the pond, or taking a bow over and over without being asked, cuz she knows it's cool and she wants treats. So many memories. She always would just put her two front legs into the car, and peer back like, I'm your baby, I know it, so lift me in haha.

She could of course do it herself, not easily in her final years but, when she was more than capable, ya. It would just crack me up A big ass dog with its legs on the seat, looking back at me, wanting me to "pick her up." Half the time I'd just put my hands by her legs and back end, and she'd jump in. She just wanted that littttle extra spoiling. I soooo didn't mind doing it.

You may have been wondering about Christina. I haven’t reported since she left for Mexico in December. Many reasons for that. First, things kept shifting, so it was hard to know what to say about her experience. Then, as I began to get clarity, I felt that the story was just too depressing. Pain constraining her engagement in the community. A creepy guy repeatedly harassing her. A friend who promised companionship and support utterly abandoning her. A landlord refusing to fix broken things. The water supply running out …

So now, she’s getting ready to head back home to her parents in New Hampshire. This year’s trip to San Pancho has been … a learning experience.

Here are her words, which I have chosen from among her messages, describing her current state. And yes, donations are still most welcome and appreciated.

I am planning to go. I have to try. I need this. It always has seemed to work out so I’m really trying hard to worry less. Block out the fear I hear in my head and the fear I hear from my family and just go for it. I can make it. And with my new hot-pink cane to bring with me …

And now I have Dylan, who gets me and I think will be helpful. This year he has promised to make food once a week for me and also to introduce me to a few new trusted friends. He has high hopes for me. Without that, I’m not sure I’d go in my current state. But I’m going to make a leap of faith and do it. With your help and the donations and with the attitude and understanding Dylan has about me and my life and my needs.

I’ll deal later with my tears of missing my sweet mom and dad.

Still, I get scared.

Reading this blog may help you understand what it’s like for me and the thousands of others who may look healthy and fine, but are actually suffering from chronic illness, pain, fatigue, mental issues, inability to do basic things and all that comes with that.

Understanding that some things just don’t go away one day. that maybe certain things will never get better, no matter how hard we try or how many things we do, vitamins taken, treatments tried, affirmations spoken, prayers asked, specialists seen, etc., etc. All they or I can do is to try to manage the best we can, every single day. Even hour to hour. But having support and some understanding really does help us.

Just unsure about everything it seems. I’m not sure what the future holds for me, health-wise, and where I’m going to live and how I’m going to survive. That all gives me major anxiety and lots of panic attacks but I just try to make it one day at a time.

I really want to again thank you all for your continued support and care. It really means a lot to me and is a huge blessing I’m very grateful for. I send all of you my love and I wish you all the best.

I’m feeling very torn and emotional about leaving Mexico. I've been coming here almost nine years. A big chunk of my heart and soul will forever be here …I can’t leave the house without seeing familiar faces—locals or expats—who wave from across the street and smile or pass me in the street and stop for a chat. The human connection is really important to me.

NH seems like a different country, culture, and language from what I’m accustomed to here … If I was to walk five minutes outside my parents’ house, I would not be getting a smile or wave from anyone. If anything, I have to watch out for the crazies who love to speed down the back roads …

I don’t wanna get worse, but my shoulders and knees are loose and keep cracking. I did basic things yesterday and I can’t walk today. I thought of using a cane for the knee I can’t put weight on but then my shoulder keeps sliding over and out and I don’t know how I could even use a cane. Trying not to freak out.

Feels like going back to NH, I'm losing all my badass. I'm just a NH girl in a slow quiet blah druggy town. Errrrr.

But the nieces are there …

That’s life. Maybe I’ll hang out at our two Mexican restaurants.

You look so good

Whatever you're doing, it’s working.

Wtf

I'm underweight and alone all the time and don’t go out.

And I’m doing so good???

Another couple guys really pushed for haircuts.

Come on. U can.

People with EDS sometimes refer to ourselves as Zebras. According to the international Ehlers-Danlos Society, the reference to zebras is borrowed from a common expression heard in medicine: "When you hear hoofbeats behind you, don't expect to see a zebra." In other words, medical professionals are typically taught to look out for more-common ailments rather than testing for EDS.

I want to thank everyone who has been a part of my journey here. Especially sweet Kathryn and my new Chacala connections, and you all who are reading this. I never liked asking for help my whole life, and when I did need it, it wasn't there. But now I’ve had to learn now to ask for help and to accept it and not to think less of myself. Being unable to work and do hair has really hurt me emotionally, mentally, and, of course, financially. I also miss the human interactions and making people feel happy and pretty. They would leave with giving me a huge hug and smiling proudly to go show off their look.

I appreciate continued prayers and any help you would be able to offer, as the donations are keeping me afloat.

I am grateful for all the care and help from family and friends, and complete strangers with big hearts. Without the help of my family, Kathryn, and Eden and Lora and Natalie, and the donors, I do not know. My life would be even more unbearable and I’d really push to leave this life. I'm just so tired of never having a break from it. And if it was more predictable, I could get a better routine, but, it’s just all over the place. I try sooo hard to track patterns but I fail most times. Just feels like my vessel is broken, and it’s just breaking my heart and soul too. Too many years, too many surgeries, too many I’m sorrys.

As of Saturday 10/17/20, Christina is back in the warmth. I know she is fearful about being in Mexico alone this year with her new level of incapacity. Still, she needs to know whether her body’s accelerated deterioration over the past year resulted from being cold and cramped and isolated in New Hampshire or whether the increased level of pain and disability constitute her new normal even when she is warm and among her Mexican and expat friends.

It’s an experiment of great significance for her, not just a trip to the beach ...