I Am Writing a Book(s)

Yup. I am writing a book. Maybe 2. Or more. We’ll see what it turns into. I’ll see what YOU think. If YOU find it interesting or viable. And my laptop won’t launch Word.

So here goes nothing. Or everything. All words as written are true and as I lived through them, experienced them. This has been MY LIFE.

I was adopted. Though I wasn’t told until I was 48, I knew when I was 11. Dad didn’t confirm, but he didn’t deny it ether when asked. He said, “It isn’t something we discuss. It upsets your mother.”

I was 11, as I said. Upsetting Mom was something I knew too well. A homework assignment set her off. It was a biology type of thing. A list of questions we had to answer – when were you born, what time of day, what was your family’s reaction, who found out first,  who was at the hospital, what foods did your mother crave when she was pregnant with you, what was your favorite first food, your least? You know. Questions about my early life.

Mom was irate! Who wanted to know her private business? Why? She went into hysterics and cried and screamed from her bed where she had fled when she heard of the “homework”. “No one will know about my private business!” But it wasn’t her private business, it was my life and my “business” at its foundation. Well, I didn’t need to know, I was too young.

I guess 48 was the right age. Only thing with that – it was self preservation on her part. It was in the emergency room and she had Alzheimer’s Dementia, supposedly,  and I couldn’t speak for her. She was denying I was her daughter as adopting me was Dad’s idea and she hadn’t agreed with his terrible choice. I never did as I was told. I didn’t speak for her. She was tricked. And since Dad was dead, my hold over her was dead too. Odd, that doesn’t change my birth certificate. Her name is still there.

She was a sociopath and a narcissist too. There are examples. Decades worth and I won’t bore you with all of them. Just the ones that really stood out. That still hurt and harm. That will impact me until I draw my last breath. Her poison still kills my happiness even though she has been dead since May 2015.

I never thought she was a sociopath. That’s what a doctor said when they couldn’t accept her into the psychiatric ward at that hospital. They didn’t have the correct staffing and they couldn’t transport her to a psychiatric hospital as transport was not available.  I could take her, of course. I could arrange it. If her doctor would sign off on her Alzheimer’s diagnosis, of course.

I’d been trying for months, but even though her medical chart stated dementia as a condition, I could get nothing in writing. Even though I was taking care of her 24/7. took her to every doctor’s appointment, every lab or test, for years at that point, even after failing and trying to cheat on a Mini Mental Health Test, keeping her autonomous was all important – even if she needed me to be “Autonomous”. To eat, to go to the doctor, to the grocery store, to pay her bills, to pay the electricity even when she thought it was too much and she didn’t want to pay it because she wouldn’t allow them to cheat her.

Dishonesty was an issue for her. The auto insurance was a car loan, and she owned her car (Dad’s car that I paid off when he died and refinanced the house so she could keep it). The A/C was dying, needed repair, as she lived in the High Desert and it ran from May to October since it was so hot and she couldn’t take the heat. Not that she would set it at 78F and let it kick in when it was needed. No. Let the house heat up to 85F then turn it on and complain it was so hot, but turn it off at 10 pm since she was going to bed and the draft hurt her neck and having a window open was inviting a rapist into her home so she could be raped and murdered. The same could be said if you sat on the patio into the evening. They didn’t care about me – they wanted her!

She lived in a gated Senior community. There were no cases of rape or murder. There was no rampant house thefts in this community. HOA issues to the extreme. but no home invasions. Mom would see the news and home invasions in Los Angeles County, she would screech and point excitedly at the TV.  But we were in Riverside County – a hundred miles away from that. “It can happen here! Just wait!”

Just like a sample of Tide Detergent could be Anthrax being sent specifically to you, Mom. That happened. Dad had to call the police to get Mom to calm the fuck down. She wouldn’t stop until he did. There were many things she wouldn’t stop doing, even when told. Dad was better at it than I, but in reality Mom owned us lock, stock and barrel. She dictated how we could breath, and she dictated when we would die. She succeeded with Dad. She failed with me, but she was almost successful.

That’ll come later. There is a lot to unravel with the mania I lived with.

Why Voting is so Very Important

Stay home – unpatriotic. You’re a citizen and it’s your right and if you don’t exercise that right, why stay here and bitch? Leave.

Our way if life is being destroyed. Yes. DESTROYED by a bigot and his sycophant REOUBLICANS. They don’t want us to have healthcare, Social Security, any “safety-net” we might need that other “good paying Americans” chip in for.

Here’s a news flash. FICA is the Federal Insurance Contribution Act and it was passed by the Roosevelt Administration in 1935. It is part of the unified budget for the United States, and Johnson was the first to “borrow” from it to pay for the Vietnam War.

What have the Republicans done for us other than raise the National Debt, approve tariffs, befriend hostile regime’s, attempt to/practice war crimes by shooting a rock throwing protestors, support Fascists, White Supremacy and Nazism? Nothing, except pat themselves on the back and give their rich donors a tax break they didn’t need while telling us the middle class would benefit. Middle class? That nearly non-existent group that is being chocked to death? The Republicans want it gone, along with all non-white groups. Look at how they gerrymandered all those Congressional Districts nationwide?

And their leader, the King of Lies, is out there calling our Fourth Estate, our source of information and NEWS fake, lying, dishonest, etc., etc. Projecting much, Donnie? Don’t like bad press? You create it. Live with it, you orange smear.

Voting is so important, even though it’s Midterms. Every candidate, every measure, every proposition impacts our lives and by not voting you’re telling our Country you don’t care. If you bitch, the automatic comment should be “did you vote”? And when you say no, well you got what you asked for. Quit UR bitchin’

VOTE

VOTE

VOTE

This Life is too Hard

I hate to be a proverbial belly-acher, but seriously? How much is one person supposed to take before you say enough and end it? Even if you want to live, the roadblocks keep coming at all angles. And “living” is a luxury.

Where I am now, a roof, toilet and kitchen, is a home I am humbly thankful for, even though all my things from one storage unit is under traps on the dirt. Everything. And I can’t get to it because of instability and confusion and lack of mental reasoning to fully comprehend what is in my heart and mind, because I become too upset and I just can’t take it. And no one underatands that.

My Facebook friends don’t get that. I had a stroke. Awww. She’ll get better with time. I had a vascular lucanar stroke at 51. 1/5th of the population has that at 65. Sixty-five. There are no percentages for 51 year olds other than within that 1/5th. Is it 1%? 0.5%? 5%? I can’t find any numbers due to it’s rarity and not needing to know, most likely.

How can I get people to see there is an issue when I can’t even explain it to them? When I don’t know myself.

And how can I explain that moving things that were inside the house are now under a tarp on the dirt and I should be fine with that because I didn’t sell it or give it away? I can get used to having nothing because I will soon enough.

I’m even fearful of doing laundry because my friend has “smell” issues like Tide. I’m trying, but being accommodating is so damn hard when I don’t have the brain I once did.

And now she wants to insure I find housing by December 1st. There is nothing in Livermore, especially Section 8 and I have no income. Homelessness is a very real and serious problem in the Bay Area, especially for someone who can’t work and is waiting on Social Security.

I don’t know what to do. Any suggestions? Please don’t say Salvation Army or St. Vincent’s or some other Christain Charity. There is help for veterans, not civilians who have suffered a life changing disability and doesn’t know where to turn.

If you can, or if you know anyone who may help, please refer them to http://www.GoFundMe.com/Life4V

Or, if you know a reporter or journalists or someone connected to media, please pass along my story. I need all the help I can get. Because someone crying wolf doesn’t get tje time of day, let alone a reply.