I had dreams and hopes and aspirations……now I have known.
This world has changed since I was a child. It has grown and gotten bigger and more technologically advanced, while people starve and die and those who have nothing are ignored and have to accept there lot. There are deserving of life because they weren’t born into opportunity, or they are lazy and won’t try. How does a child of 3, ripped from it’s parents learn to be self-sustaining when adults put them in a cage because it’s parents came to a place that is thought to be safe treats them like animals because their parents aren’t white, speak English and are treated like criminals because they are brown? Poor? Desperate? Just want to survive?
I don’t want to be part of that evil. I don’t want to see dictators being treated as civilized people of importance, fawned over when they have killed thousands, beheaded or poisoned family to archive greatness. And I certainly don’t want a “president” to promote a good-will campaign for someone like that. The puppet to another dictator who kills his appointments to maintain his authority. A no-nothing predator media whore who lies every time he speaks.
What this world has come to is miraculous. What individuals have achieved like Elon Musk, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Steve Wozniak, Ronald Wayne, Larry Ellison, George Lucas, even an old icon like Walt Disney. There are so many others, giants in our world such as Warren Buffet. Odd. Trump isn’t named. What has he down except be rich and repeatedly failed in business. Has a big mouth, but carries a little fly swatter. Two-bit mafia attorneys who sue when the boss says so. Even a Keebler elf who needs to return to his tree knothole and bake cookies. Note torment children while making Grimm’s fairy tales come alive.
Many are quick to rescue a sweet pooch if neglected in a yard, in a car, or just roaming with th a chain hanging from it’s neck, but a human wandering aimlessly, holding a cup, pushing a cart with perceived trash, unwashed and smelly we walk by with obvious distaste. I didn’t for many years, since I saw the same faces, even knew a few names after time. I brought them small care packages, food, even money when I got paid. The had nothing. I had a safe place to sleep, people who cared, a job and hot food when I wanted it, even choices. I was wealthy compared to them. Sleeping in door ways with spare clothes as a blanket. There arm as a pillow. I could sleep on a bed with a pillow, sheets and a blanket and never have to consider being harassed by a stranger to move. I was so lucky, something they wouldn’t know. I had empathy. Too many haven’t an inkling.
You have to see them, speak to them. know their name to start to appreciate the suffering we force of them. And we do. All the agencies created to help them, some can’t negotiate the system. It isn’t because they don’t want to. It’s because in our zeal to make it “easier”, we have made it harder, more diversified, that some people don’t have the strength to attempt to climb that sheer cliff wall.
I know. That is what it is like for me now.
Food stamps – go here. Public assistance – do there. Housing assistance – over there. Not approved by Social Security, you’re expected to work so do there. You have more than $50. you aren’t poor enough to receive aid. Here’s a list of charities, call them. Go on the internet and search. What if you don’t have a phone? What if you don’t have internet access? Go to a public library. Where is one located? How do I get there? Which bus line? How do I pay the fare?
It’s not like you can go to one place and receive help. If there is, I haven’t come across one. I haven’t been to San Francisco, they might have something, but they have a huge homeless issue. Have for years. Can’t go to San Fran without encountering a panhandler. I won’t do that, because I physically can’t without being hit by a car. Besides, they’re used to being ignored. Or harassed by the police.
That’s why it’s so depressing. There is no hope. There is no reason TO hope.
I live, but does anyone in a public service job care? I had a social worker assigned to me, she secured appointments for therapists, but nothing that provided me a way to public assistance of any kind. Sent me lists with phone numbers for places to live, but a person who could qualify me for that? Nope. It is disheartening, especially when you here from others their waiting list is two years. Two years to get on the list!
There are those who soldier on, keep trying or give up. Too many die or are killed – men because they say something to defend themselves and are killed because they are weak or old and a nuisance, a drain on society, or women are raped and left for dead just because they are women and have nothing but a hole where a man can take his “pleasure” by force. Unless she’s “ugly” and just a blight on society. Hahahaha Stupid bitch. Like she needed to live!
Our society. Where human life means nothing, especially to those who have nothing but wanting to live. But “you’re” doing nothing to deserve it. There are people who can help. You just need to go there and ask.
Circular argument. Absolute failure. No resolution. Death is your constant companion.
I am dying, slowly and tortuously. I am broke and out of money. I have 3/4 of a tank and probably enough for one more in the bank and I have 4 appointments this week and that will be over 300 miles of driving. Nothing I can do I have spent it as frugally as I could. I have spent it in food that Food Stamps won’t cover. Nothing fun, nothing for “enjoyment”, nothing to just help me forget for a few minutes.
I don’t go onto Facebook much anymore. I can’t. I see too many friends enjoying their lives and I don’t want to be petty and small minded like Gunn (my adopted mother). I won’t be like her. But it still hurts to know they are off having fun and all I can think about is the money they are spending and what it would mean if I had a tiny fraction. Even friends who are traveling through the ancient ruins and sharing their travel log of pictures -someone who hasn’t directly contacted me for what I believe is a litany of falsehoods by other people, I simply don’t exist. “She’ll be fine. She’s done it before.”
I was myself before. Not just a shell of who I used to be because of the stroke.
Many people I know have tried to help me. $50 here, $40 there, $100 from relatives of my Dad, a $100 from a few more, $500 from Diana until she freaked out and demanded that I leave her home 2 days after I started to move in and it cost me $700 to rent a motel room because Myrna wasn’t ready for me and I ended up going to the ER because I thought I was having another stroke or a heart attack. No, just a old issue in a brand new form.
Reduce more, go to the storage units and squeeze more stuff in. In fleeing D’s place, I “lost” 4 pairs of shoes including a pair of Nike’s and a pair of Merrell’s, That’s $200+ to replace. Bad feet, bone spurs, bad arches – good supportive shoes so I don’t ache after 15 minutes. And my knitting bag with projects and a notions box it took years to put together and a set of needles – $500+ at least. They may have been stolen while the garage door was open. She blamed me, that’s why I had to leave. I don’r know how it got open. It was closed at 4 pm when I left for storage and I never went back out. I had the garage door opener, so it was my fault. I put them in danger. Ok, but it wasn’t intentional or anything I was aware of, but it was my fault.Because I’m reckless and thoughtless? No. I’m, disabled and part of my brain is dead. Sorry. I can’t fix that or get over it. It is beyond my reach. I don’t even know where to start.
My friend Claudia was a Godsend. She donated $2000 to GoFundMe. Why I had money for a motel room. I called Contra Costa for shelter space and got nothing but phone numbers to call. I wasn’t on the street so it wasn’t an immediate need. $700 went to a motel in Livermore, where I ate food in my cooler before it spoiled, slept, and drove out to storage several times to make room where there was none. I spent days just sleeping. My brain isn’t capable of handling stress and it shuts down, and my body with it. Maybe that’s I feel I’m dying. I need so much sleep.
It’s taken me two days to write this little piece of brain vomit. I start. I stop. I’m going to bed. Again.