The Realities of Homelessness

The daily mental battle

Sleeping on a flat surface and stretched out.

Taking a shower without someone yelling “HURRY UP!!!” Just being able to take one every 3 or 4 days, not every 7+ days. The record is 15, I think. Warm water and soap to remove the stench and dirt and letting you feel “Normal”. Washing your hair!!! When it’s been up in a ponytail for better than a week and when you take out the rubber band – IT DOES NOT MOVE. Not a single hair. It is that oily! And know I am susceptible to yeast infections in my fat fold, aka lap fat. Oh, for a flat tummy! Oh, to be 60 lbs lighter! Oh, to not have the stroke issues! Oh, all the shit which I really want to go away!! The yeast infections are due to the “plastic” in the diapers and heat and sweat trapped in unbreathable and confined space. I was able to wear cotton undies for a few days with leakage pads. The infection cleared up. Hell, the last time when it was really bad (August), Dr. C. had to lance and drain a boil. Eeeeww! Yuck! I had to keep draining until the cream dried it out! You never want to experience that, especially so close to your private parts,

Getting up at 3am and being able to go to a bathroom and sit on a toilet without having to drive to a Safeway and hopefully not commit to the “walk of shame” or drop a load in my diaper. I now carry adult diapers. I can’t justify any vanity on my part. Oh, Gunn would be scandalized! “But, Venke! Vhat will people tink of you! How embarassing!” Shut up, bitch. I wouldn’t be here if not for you. Her voice comes back too often. It is what it is and I’ll just have to take 600 mg a day of Neurotin to insure the nerves down south are in communication with Central Command. And that will be undergoing reconstruction for years. I have a bathroom purse. It’s nice and made from “vegan” leather. OK. There is some vanity and not wanting to advertise “homeless and poor and peeing on myself”.

Typing and “storytelling” is part of my therapy. Who’da thunk that!

They’re playing Christmas Music at Starbucks. Eek. From 40’s Big Band to Rap. *Shudder*

Being able to go to the kitchen that has a refrigerator, a stove and cook top, and maybe a microwave (let’s not forget cutlery and eating vessels and tumblers), to prepare a warm meal or have a piece of toast when under the weather or just a glass of milk. Heat a bowl of chicken noodle soup! Or a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. Make a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese. A grilled cheese sandwich on sliced sourdough with Tomato Bisque from Trader Joe’s. A breaded and thick cut pork chop with baked apples. A chicken breast with sauted asparagus. A homemade Cobb Salad or Chopped Broccoli from Costco, A PB&J with something other than Concord Grape Jelly and on 10-grain Wheat, not that cheap wheat bread that has zero nutrition and is worse for you then Wonder Bread. Fresh Wonder Bread……yummmmm. Addicted to that as a child. Gunn did me no favors. She sure didn’t teach me nutrition, encourage exercise or chase me out the door to play with neighbor kids. Brownie’s offered too many camping trips with a parent participating. Good God NO! “Ve don’t do dat in Norway!” No. families go hiking and fishing and sleep in…..sleeping bags? That’s the rumor.

I’ll be back soon. I’m off to Speech and Cognitive Therapy!

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A Quick Post

Will is at Storage with Andy – getting my diapers since I used the last one this morning. I’m at Starbucks just having updated my GoFundMe campaign.  And just trying to provide some current context, which I will do here as well.

  1. Will is SOBER!
  2. His day of sobriety is October 12, 2019. He had his last drink (fucking bottle, or Handle, or 1.5L of vodka every 36 hours) on 10/11/19.
  3. He is Clear and Vibrant and hooked on Starbucks Nitro which is making him a very talkative chipmunk!
  4. His memory is so much better and he is the one DRIVING! I let him take over the wheel and I am enjoying being the passenger once more. It’s been since 2012 except the handful of times a was I with someone. Literally – no one since 2016 and that was Amanda. Less than a dozen times since then. Maybe half a dozen. He’s my driver! Hehe He even jokes he’s driving Miss Gracie. Andy is enjoying the way it used to be. Daddy is supposed to be in the drivers seat. Rawroo!
  5. I have started writing my “book”. I had too. There is so much pent up inside me with no where to go. So much anger – and hatred. Dad didn’t have to die when he did and I didn’t have to have my stroke when I did if it hadn’t been for HER. I will NEVER refer to her as Mom ever again. Her name was Gunvor. I will use that or the nickname Gunn. I apologize to any women who have that name. They should never be confused with the Gunvor who was in my life.
  6. I am looking actively for an attorney to handle my medical malpractice/malfeasance case. It is complicated and messy, not simple and direct. I have spoken to a few attorneys and I will speak to more. I will not give up.
  7. We have figured out how to handle Will’s brother. That’s all I am going to say.
  8. We know what we will do when all this is over and lawsuits have been settled and life has settled into a normal mode with a roof over our heads and a refrigerator and a bathroom. We so need a place to live, but Abode isn’t going to do anything for us. We missed out on Section 8 housing last week. Too many applicants and the website became unavailable after 12 noon. They opened online only at 11:00. Heard nothing from Abode. They need one more thing – a letter on agency letterhead stating a person from that agency has known we have been homeless for part of the year. Multiple letters from multiple people to cover each month for the last year. This was rolled out by Alameda County on October 1st! We have everything else they wanted to complete the application for the apartment in Oakland, then this came up. If we can come up with this for each of us and have it for them, they will need updates or something else before we fill out the application. It’s bullshit is what it is. No wonder people are homeless and living out of their cars for 7 or 9 or 13 years!
  9. We quit smoking. No more Camel Crush.We vape. I quit smoking completely and enjoy vaping, which I rarely do if I am not driving. Will vapes and occasionally has a cigarillo. My blood pressure is normal and Doctor is happy, though worries about the vape because the “News” says they are unsafe. Yeah, ok, if you buy off the black market, from a guy who makes them in his garage,etc. We don’t. You don’t want kids smoking, let’em get carded! They did when I was 18 and I was told, “NO! Get out of here!” They need to be told No. They aren’t denied often enough as it is without them having a temper tantrum. “Wha! I am old enough! You’re discriminating against me. It’s ageism!!!” Bullshit, little one. We had to suffer at your age. It’s your right of passage. Now, shut up. You’re bothering me. And get off my lawn while you’re at it. (Metaphorically)
  10. I’m a little behind on the news….has Trump been impeached yet? Has the NYSD gotten his Tax Returns? Has SCOTUS flipped on their backs and placated the Big Horny Dog? Curious. Asking for a friend.

That’s it. Will is back with dinner from Asbury Church. Chicken Teriyaki and Rice. Gee. More carbs. SMDH

Hello – I’m Back!

I’ve been having issues with WordPress, namely MY site and not the one they want to create for me. I’m limited to posting via my tablet and it isn’t doing spellcheck.

Poop. The grammer nazi that resides within is very hostile and precise. And preachy.

I’ve posted two active Contact posts with their “experts”, as you cannot call them, and I’ve been waiting for over an hour. Today.

GRRRR.

I will be doing something new. I will be posting daily – words, pictures, even video. I will be chronicling our daily life and trounbles as homeless people in the SF Bay Area. Me and Will and Andy. Our little family.

We are also at Facebook/onetinysoapbox. Check us out there too, in case I post to that because this is giving me issues.

One of the issues having a TBI that has caused cognitive impairment – website FAQ links are a pain when you don’t have a simple question.

We Will Die, Living Like This

Melodramatic? Yeah. It is, but after I get a few “problems” off my chest, I think you’ll understand.

And I will be “graphic” and “putting my business out there” and I just don’t care anymore. I cry daily. Feeling human is something I miss. Being “private” is a luxury that I foolishly can’t enjoy. Just when I think things can’t get worse, they do. My life is an endless mudslide into an abyss.

Before I go to the boring doldrums, I just want to convey hopes and dreams I have. I want to write – multiple books regarding my stroke and recovery, homelessness, adoption, the wicked witch/psychotic bitch who was my adopted mother, the flawed man I hero-worshipped (and still do). And a few other things if I have time. Even some fiction! But I also want to do something for the homeless community, advocacy, give people hope – because there is NONE. Cots at shelters, so people don’t have to sleep on the floor. A PEMANEENT PLACE FOR THEM TO SLEEP IN THE TRI-VALLEY OF NORTHERN CALIFORNIA. This “system” frankly sucks! Those “not-in-my-backyard” jackasses need to SHUT-UP, quite whining about how grren their grass is, how the homeless are trouble makers and leave dirt and debris in their wake, and, God Forbid!, congregate!

Not ALL homeless people are drug addicts.

Not ALL homeless people are alcoholics.

Not ALL homeless people have mental illness, i.e, CRAZY.

Not ALL homeless people want to be lazy and do nothing.

Not ALL homeless people want to sleep outside.

Not ALL homeless people are dangerous

Not ALL homeless people HATE YOU.

Not ALL homeless people will accept that God will take care of them. He will not quench your thirst. He will not feed you. He will not put gas in your car or drive you to a church serving food. And if your feet are blistered and you cannot walk, he will not physically carry you to food and water. Quote all the scripture you want. Believe in those words. Give your life to Him. I did. And He has been there for me, so many times, but did He stay the hand of my adopted mother when she insisted Dad needed to stop a needed medication? No. He had a series of strokes and died. Did he stop her from throwing out my medication, as she was insisting that her family didn’t suffer from Diabetes or High Blood Pressure, so I didn’t either! And how does that work, Gunn, when you didn’t give birth to me? I have the caesarean scar! Yeah, from that girl you had in 1963 that you buried. God didn’t make crazy go away, keep her from beating me, screaming at me, accusing me so many lies, for soooo many years. He stopped none of it. Yet I still prayed. And I still do, but nothing will change. At least she died, but not before I started having mini-strokes. Hell, she almost succeeded in killing me. I never raised a hand to her. I yelled. I screamed. And how much I wanted to hit her for every time she hit me, slapped me, called me a whore, ransacked my room in an attempt to find proof that I was a whore. I just remembered what Dad said, “That’s just the way she is. There is nothing we can do.” There was Dad, you just never had the balls to do it.

Homeless are scary. They scare me, and I am one of them. But they are desperate and afraid and most know they are living on borrower time and don’t expect their lives to get any better.

They are without hope.

Being homeless will change you mentally. There are too many factors that our brains cannot find ways to “cope”, and this is my issue.

I can type as I once spoke, but speaking is HARD for me now. I was a public speaker. I enjoyed speaking before a crowd! Now I can barely talk to one person if no one else is around. I stutter. Words fail me, meaning I know what to say, but I physically can’t because I can’t remember how to form those words. I cannot modulate my voice. I can’t keep the emotion out. I am crying now just typing this. The lasting effect of my TBI. There are “therapies” that can be taught to me and I can work on them. Just as I can get my singing voice back. With time and effort. Maybe. If I get the right speech therapist.

Somehow, I don’t think I’m gonna get a good one. There us only one facility available for my insurance here in Alameda, and the last time I was there, it put my brain into major chaos. My cognitive “impairment” exploded , and I shut down. That “impairment”, the full impact of my TBI, is debilitating and there is no one to talk to about it, unless I go back to UCSF. I may have to, to get the help I need.

I am struggling, and I can’t fix it! I could always fix anything before, but now? I have my good days, and I have my dead days where I can do nothing. Just driving on auto pilot and praying I am not asked what to do or where to go. And I feel so guilty for not being better with Will, but a major portion of my brain is dead and it isn’t coming back. Neuroplasticity be damned! I’ll get some of my old self back, but not close to all of it. Always wanting to please and never doing that. There is much I want to do!

I especially want medical treatment for Will so he isn’t in pain or his cancer kills him. So Gary doesn’t win. Again. That brother of his should burn in hell, along with that skank of a wife. How can you abuse your mother, your daughter, your brother? How do you live with yourself? Your mother dies and you greedy bastard, you just want what is coming to you. Just like when your Dad was dying, use your uncle and have the will changed on his deathbed. Make sure Will is NOT the executor. When Mom has died, lie in court and steal Will’s executorship and have him evicted from the house you both grew up in and he has lived in TAKING CARE OF YOUR MOTHER FOR 10+ YEARS, his name is on the utilities, but file an illegal detainer – as if he was a renter – and have the sheriffs remove him and threaten to have Andy put in a Kill shelter, or have him thrown in the trash, you caustic, sick fuck. I know the skeletons in YOUR closet.

Hire attorneys to sue Gary, and they side with Gary, saying I am not helping Will. Will should take the pittance Gary is offering. Will should have the house, unencumbered with that fucking loan that is on it that is YOURS Gary. You never helped with ANY of the costs to keep your Mom safe and happy at the end of her life. No, you bitched when she bought an Accord. That was too expensive! Why couldn’t she buy something cheaper? She needed a good car when she was still working at Intel? She felt safe in it? Balderdash! She was wasting your inheritance! You and Colleen lived there for years, and you bitched that the house wasn’t updated. That the house fire was her or Will’s fault. As if a Major Appraiser would remove a fire door and replace it with a plain old interior door, Or that Dorothy would! Odd, how the fire inspector commented on that, and odd that it looked so much like the interior doors found in a house like yours? Who was always coming over to the house, using a key they weren’t supposed to have AS THEY DIDN’T LIVE THERE ANYMORE? How much did you and Colleen “borrow” over the years?

Will often wonders how is niece is. Gary alienated her from the family. She was as close as a daughter to him that he will ever have. He wonders if she took Victoria with her, and how sorry he is that he was so dense he didn’t realize what she meant back then. He was taking care of grandma, and that was a fulltime job! Keeping her from running down the street, sans clothes, was a challenge. He feels guilty that he wasn’t able to fulfill her final wishes. Often, in his sleep, he begs for her forgiveness. He thinks he failed her. And you. You have Grandma’s blood running in your veins, young lady! Good on you for taking your life in YOUR hands!

I’ve rattled on about THAT long enough. Back to what is at hand.

We both need medical attention. I need a social worker. I need someone to speak for me, and It isn’t going to be Will. He can’t, as often as he tries. The alcoholism is an issue, with memory and patience and “stuff”. My one income, the Socal Security, isn’t enough. There are “low-income” housing projects, and the minimum income requirement is more than my social security. And we are still waiting on Will’s final determination. They have turned him down for Social Security Disability. His $340 a month for General Assistance doesn’t count for much of anything. At least he has food stamps. I got a whooping $15 a month! Peanut and Butter Sandwiches will be all that I can afford. Perfect diet for a diabetic!

I can’t even get a glucose monitor because the prescription says testing 4 times a day, but I’m not on insulin, I’m on Trulicity, so that “perception” needs to indicate 1 per day. I had a fucking stroke BECAUSE I’m a diabetic, but Testing once pre day is hunky dory? Give me a fucking break!

Insurance company “rules” will kill people. We do have death panels to save THEIR money, not our lives. It isn’t Obamacare. It this colossal mess the Republicans have created in attempting to abolish healthcare for all.

I can’t even get a prescription for Depends, and I can’t see a specialist until December. I am homeless, but the company that supplies the Depends, or a portable commode, needs it in writing from the Doctor that I AM NOT RESIDING IN A DOMICILE. I have a PO Box. I live in a car. But the doctor needs to write that in a note, otherwise Medicare won’t cover it. In the meantime, I urinate on myself daily. I even defecated in my underwear this morning waiting for the bathroom to become available at Starbucks.

Throwing away a brand new pair of underwear is difficult for me. I haven’t shit in my pants since I was a child and had a stomach ailment. That was at KMart. I kept telling Mom I had to go to the bathroom, but she said to hold it until after they had paid and were leaving. My bowels made their own decision. Anyway, because the need was so great, I choose Starbucks instead of Safeway, because I figured I would probably soil myself driving over to Safeway. It didn’t matter.

To be 54 years old and defecate or urinate in my underwear is sick and sad and pathetic, and I can’t help wondering how bad I smell? Gunn was so particular about “smell” and “looks” and “being dirty”. She gave me a fucking complex, and that is what ran through my head this morning that I felt like an animal, not human, disgusting and loathsome. Just what she complained about all the time.

If we had a place to stay, a place to lay down with a bathroom and a kitchen, it would be so different. But we don’t, and it isn’t looking good for us anytime soon. Fill this out, jump through these hoops, and maybe you’ll be lucky enough to be on a waiting list or the lottery. No guarantee of how long or even if,but you have a chance to maybe, to possibly live there someday, like 9 years from now..

At least it isn’t a plot in a cemetery. That’s something. Those cost good money. If you’re homeless, you’ll be lucky to have an unmarked grave. At least the County will do that for you.

Lots of reasons to be depressed, and I can’t “talk” about it without breaking down. The TBI Effect.

We need help. We need other voices speaking for us. Some news coverage? Report this to a Bay Area Channel. I have tried to reach out via Twitter and Facebook, and often shocked how so many are able to raise huge sums through GoFundMe. I guess Will and I are too average. God has abandoned us, since he’s “gay” and I’m not Narrow. We can manage on our own. We have no children, and we have to be to blame for whatever happened to make us homeless.

Am I complaining too much? If you could walk in my shoes for just ONE DAY, you would understand and ask “how do you do it”? That’s just it, we can’t.

Thank you for reading, and this is the link to the GoFundMe, for what it’s worth. http://gofundme.com/f/life4wng20

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What I Miss Everyday…

What I miss every moment of everyday…

A kitchen to warm water for tea or make a cup of soup or make a hot meal.

A bathroom within a few feet so when I need to use the toilet, I don’t have to do the walk of shame when my pad overflows and the urine soaks my jeans and socks.

A bed to lay flat on. Not a yoga mat and a sleeping bag on the cold, drafty floor where I have to struggle to get up without pee-ing myself. And no one questioning me why I’m up at 2:30 am.

Blankets and pillows to nestle into on a cold and wet day. Being able to sleep until 8 am or 9am, not 7 am when I have to be up and out and expected to have my car out of the parking lot of the church-for-the-week because it upsets the neighbor’s and they consider it “congregating”.

Fruits and vegetables in abundance whenever I want them. Not once every few days and just one not the other.

Fruit juice or V8 with no High Fructose Corn Syrup. And a hot meal everyday. God I miss that.

Not having to explain to everyone I have a brain injury and they won’t get it. I look fine but I’m not. Looks mean nothing to selfish, uneducated, uncaring cretins.

A place to sleep, safe, confrontation free. It shouldn’t be too much to ask for.

I want a normal life like everyone else. I’m sorry I had a stroke that didn’t kill me. I’m sorry I’m a burden on society. I’d correct it if I could.

wwe.gofundme.com/Life4V

It’s Getting Too Hard To Live

It will be the 2 month Anniversary in 3 days of my sudden and incomprehensible homeless status. That in itself is depressing.

Thanks Myrna. That wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t such guilt-filled tool to your spoiled and ungrateful adopted teenage daughter. As my generation says – Fuck that noise. But I lecture, and she knows everything. I’ll refrain from saying something truly offensive since you still have my property under tarps in your backyard on earth which is probably muddy and a quagmire.

That’s one issue I have to deal/live with.

There is a housing crisis, and women witg children in dire situations have priority. Or assicts seeking recovery. Or newly released felons that want a path back to a normal life. Everyone else, get on line. The cities don’t fully comprehend how severe the homeless situation is.

Later this month, an organization called CityServe out of Pleasanton is recruiting homeless individual’s to help their employees find and meet homeless people they might not have had contact with yet. To get a number.

The homeless will hide, stay away, because they know nothing will happen, nothing will change, they can more money from the state but the homeless wil still have to scrap and fight to stay alive.

Lee, a very fastidious and generous homeless man, who washes his clothes and stays feed, yet gives food, clothes and blankets to other homeless, was attacked and sustained a severe facial injury which destroyed his eye glasses over what the prep thought he might have – $40. It was caught on tape at the Safeway and that prep is now cooling his heels at Santa Rita Jail.

Lee is almost 70 and bothers no one. And he was targeted because it was assumed he had money and couldn’t defend himself.

And the weak don’t survive on the streets.

Livermore has a Volunteer Group that runs the “Warming Center”. Good people and a faith based project involving church’s and parishioner volunteers. It has a good foundation, but it is temperature driven, and Weather Underground is the site they use.

For instance, it will be 48F tomorrow morning – no rain, but a wind advisory (35 mph). 100% chance of rain today – before midnight. The Center is closed tonight and based on the projected temperature will be closed tomorrow.

I haven’t been staying there anyway. Too volatile and mentally toxic for me. And a potential TIA threat.

Just before Christmas, there was an incident with a young man who couldnt keep his mouth shut. As a courtesy, my friend Will told him he couldn’t secure his bike to the railing for the steps that led to the Church chapel. The church is over 100 years with old with narrow steps. I have difficulty negotiating those steps in daylight holding the a rail. He was taking one out of commission.

He was offended and defensive and threatens Will. He knew his car and his dog. Steven, that punks name, has gang ties and knows others. He even knew someone that night and asked if that man still wanted to kick Will’s ass. That Stephen had an issue over Will’s friendship with his “woman”. Will’s gay. What’s your issue? That “woman” Stephen loves so much, that he referred to as a “whore” (a HOT button for me, Thanks Gunn) was mad at Stephen, so he wants to take his frustrations out on Will, and Little Steven (both have been referred to as “Lurch” by Will and I – for looming tendencies they display – the latter is Little Lurch) knew this and figured he had an in for destruction. He even told Will daddy was a Golden Glove. So? Daddy you don’t live with is going to pound a grown man of a similar age because he shared to you that thing was inappropriate and not acceptable?

Sure, why not? If he’s as mentally unstable, of course he would defend his offspring. Ugh.

Others tried to defuse the situation, but Baby Lurch (oops, my bad) wouldn’t listen to reason. Even one guy who just eats there said “come on, she has a point. Did you mean that old gay guy? Ignore him.” Another hot button. But BL wouldn’t drop it since everyone saw and heard he was in the wrong.

I even said, I’ve had a stroke and this was very upsetting and dangerous for me and could he please stop. He didn’t. And it kept going until my blood pressure dropped, I started spiralling because of the coginitive brain injury and chemical imbalance in mh brain that is still unmedicated until 1/10/2019, I was rendered speechless, was dizzy and my whole body was shaking, until I was finally able to scream “Go to Hell you sick fuck! I won’t let you kill me. I’m sorry Lord for those words in your house, but I have never wanted to see someone burn in hell like him!”

Everyone saw how bad I was. I made my way out to the car where Will was and asked him if he could take me to the hospital. Donna asked if her husband Bob could take me, but I declined. I needed my new bestie.

We went to Valleycare/Stanford Medical, and they kept me overnight due to it being my 2nd visit that week and third in a month. They wanted me to be evaluated by a neurologist to insure I hadn’t had another TIA. I didn’t, but I’m in a high risk category.

And I haven’t been back to the Warming Center since, because Baby Lurch is still welcome there. I have run into him at other homeless services and had to leave because of his mother mouth and I was so upset. Will and I cried in the parking lot after that incident.

I avoid Baby Lurch at all costs. I can’t deal with that. It will kill me, as if being homeless isn’t going to anyway.

The other incident with another homeless woman sent me spiraling when she accused me of lying about her. I wasn’t even awake or in the room where she was when it happened.

There is too much drama in the homeless community and the Warming Center is volatile and toxic. Not just my opinion. Several people, including a sweet older gentleman who had a minor heart attack a few days after he was banned from the Center for having empty 1/5ths of vodka in his bag.

As if alcoholism doesn’t exist in the homeless community. Ban it and they won’t be alcoholics anymore? Give me a fucking break.

I’m tired of this and loosing it and Will doesn’t know how to cheer me up or make me smile.

Well, for one thing, I’m broke.

General Assistance os screwed up because I didn’t send in an income form for 3Q. I have submitted it now, but my worker isn’t back until tomorrow. And I have no Food Stamps either. Will gave me his GA. He has nothing but trusts me with his money.

My car tags are expired. I have no money for that or the bogus ticket I got in 2017 for supposedly “running” a red light. Couldn’t explain then because words were still hard, can’t explain know because I get so easily upset and wail.

My cell bill is due. My other storage unit is due. My stuff is still at Myrna’s, like my chairs I’ve had for 30 years that were my brother-in-laws, crystal that my parents received throughout the years, my Keurig, my Kitchen Aid Pro Mixer, a lot of good stuff that I was supposed to give away? I did that when I closed down Mom’s house. Fucking jerks.

I’m pissed. Can you tell? I have coginitive dissonance? That isn’t the same as a cognitive brain injury witchy-poo. Read a book other than fantasy or romance. Or ask your husband since he’s got tons of books. Study the brain and get to know about it, and not pop-psychology. The Reader’s Digest version isn’t quite enough.

Anyhoo, back to me. I’ve been told I’m condescending and have no self awareness. From my friend and practical brother since we were 13. He threw me out of his life a few years ago (via phone and endlessly yelling ‘Fuck you Wendy” – I don’t know what I did) and I’ve been trying to reconnect. Stubborn ass just shut me down. Sent me spiraling again. He doesn’t care.

I doubt he ever did after age 40.

It’s been a lousy few months and I’m fading.

I don’t want to, but the body can only handle so much.

My SSI hearing is in March 20, 2019, but I have just found out that my friend’s sister was granted SSI, after several years, and she still hasn’t received a check. Trump has the government shut down, so will that impact government business to that degree OVER A BORDER WALL TO KEEP OUT MEXICANS?

He makes me sick. Fucking traitor. Putin’s Puppet. Rich toad.

I need to bring awareness to mu campaign. I need to raise that money TO SURVIVE AND LIVE. I can’t trust the government. I can’t trust homeless services. I can trust a small group of people that are keeping me alive.

Share this. Direct people here. I will write amd update as I can, but if I don’t pay my cell soon, it’ll be turned off. And this site is up for renewal also.

I can’t do this and I can’t get anyone to share this in newspapers (I tried – too much to write about – if it’s all true), TV (too much for a segment), on and on. I barely get a share on Facebook for my campaign (thank you Mark and Claudia – you’ve been my team, the other’s haven’t participated).

http://www.gofundme.com/life4v

Thank you. I will endeavor to bring more stories and hopefully some sunshine on a cloudy day.

Christmas is here again….bah humbug

I’m not looking forward to the next few days. They won’t be enjoyable, at least from my little niche of the world. I’m homeless and disabled? Happy Holidays! Sure. Whatever.

Ebeneezer? Party of one? Table for one!

Being homeless sucks. I’m trying to find the bright side, but it’s getting too hard. Between the chronically homeless, Tweakers, addicts, and general crazies, it’s wearing at me. I need to write this shit, but time isn’t with me.

Will is my new fabulous friend. I’m the Grace to his Will and with Andy, his therapy dog, we have laughs and chuckles everyday.

Then there is Eddie, another friend who suffers from hallucinations. More about him later.

Barbara, bat shit crazy Barbara, who set me off when she accused me of lying and other things, just because she also slept at the Homeless Refuge, but broke the rules. She came back after being told she wasn’t welcome. Not by me, but she sensed weakness and exploited it. Bitch. That is one thing I hate about the Homeless community. Weakness is prayed upon.

Please, I can’t do this anymore – mentally or physically. It’s Christmas and I have nothing – no money, some food stamps, General Assistance isn’t available until 1/3/2019, my car registration is due, my car has issues….my life is a mess….. http://www.gofundme.com/life4v

Please help