I have not been myself. Perhaps for over a year now. For someone so enthusiastic about others’ well-being, it’s ironic I suppose that I should be in this situation.
I was recently diagnosed with “Major Depressive Disorder - Severe”. That combined with the stress of trying to manage Fibromyalgia & Crohn’s pain, struggling to pay rent and bills, struggling to fund additional work, and… Well, I guess the next thing is a paragraph unto itself.
My last partner. We dated for seven years and… while she hurt me a lot, cheated, hid things from me. I ended up leaving her. Despite the fact I actually needed the day-to-day help, her “translating” my autistic blithering to bosses & friends, and the occasional once-every-few-months trip for groceries. I also had to quit my second job, as she worked there and seeing her was difficult - not to mention my boss was an eletist prick. You know the kind, acts like you’re a child and like “disabled “ means mentally disabled - not physically - and like “if you’d just try harder…”. I hated that. Worse still, like “mentally disabled” (again, I’m physically disabled, not mentally) have less bills than a “normal” person. Nothing has been the same since.
That spreads out though. Friends I’d come to depend on and trust, they stopped responding on Facebook. Being homebound I use Facebook as a primary means to communicate. Well, “used”. After recent events I’ve avoided Facebook. I digress… Our friends, even once that knew me first, congregated towards her. Post after post, no response. No comments. No ‘likes’. No messages. But they commented and liked her posts often, and I’d even seen they’d met offline. This hurt. I have been pleading for help with daily tasks, life management, finding small jobs to raise money for monthly bills and rent. Even just compassion and understanding, maybe an invitation out to do a thing.
It all culminated when I attempted to take my own life about two weeks ago.
I’ve been working through matters in therapy, or the best I can.I explained what I was feeling in an “Important - Please Read” post on Facebook. Told them what I’m telling you. How I feel abandoned, that I don’t want to be a burden but that I desperately need help with my life , need their understanding, patience, and encouragement. And then said if they feel that’s… not something they can/want to do then I' want them to delete me.
I want to live. I feel like even though I’m disabled, I have a lot to offer. I have artwork I want to complete, games I want to play, a book I want to write. When I’m not ‘running around half-crazed’ trying to survive, I’d do anything for my friends. I used to be a shoulder to cry on, to give advice, help with projects. or at least the ones I was physically able to do. I’m a good person, I try hard, I absorb skills like a MacGuyver-sponge, I have value if I’m just… if I weren’t dropped when things get tough.
I’m waiting for SSD and Section 8. The process will take months, government red tape, hearings, doctors visits.It will vastly improve my quality of life. I’ll be able to live rather than merely survive. But… there’s always a but. At the moment? I need another $400 a month just to cover rent. If I don’t my neighbors/roommates will lose their home. It will be my fault. I can’t afford movers to handle the move, since I can neither drive nor move the stuff, so I’ll effectively lose my belongings again. Shelters only let you stay the night, and given my mobility is limited I won’t be able to just…. get there and leave and spend all day wandering. I can’t do it again.
The last time I was homeless was 2011. I had a messy breakup with Stat1k. We’re close friends now, we both admitted our faults, we went over what we’d change if we could go back. Anyway, in Winter 2010 I went to NYC. A friend invited me and paid for my ticket. A month later I was out, mid December, nowhere to go. There was a massive blizzard on the east coast, and it was Hell. I slept on the subway, wandered the streets hiding from others. All I had was a leather trench coat, black jeans, a t-shirt, and some Chucks with plastic shopping bags tied around them to keep the ice out. Eventually I crashed with her brother until I could get back to PA. But after that nerve damage made it so I can’t feel my fingertips or the bottoms of my feet.
I don’t have a couch to crash on this time. I won’t have my computer for work, so I’ll lose my job. I won’t be able to stream for extra money (when people actually tip anyway). I’ll just be knee deep in credit card debt with nothing to show for itr, no home, And it’s not catastrophizing as my… oblivious pain management doctor assumes. But she doesn’t believe my parents and “family” would refuse to help, or that most of my friends can’t/won’t either. Most pain management patients there are… upper-middle class. And women. Specifically the kind with husbands to support them, or who had real estate before Fibromyalgia and/or Crohn’s took hold. For one, men with it are not as common. For another, mine took hold as a teenager, along with Syncope.
I assure you, I’m not saying this for pity. Just to get my story out.
My fear of a repeat situation lead to my recent suicide attempt. Starting from zero a fourth time, losing everything every five years on average. If that’s all there is… if I’m merely surviving, life isn’t worth it. Getting Section 8 without already living in an apartment that accepts it is next to impossible. Low-income housing complexes are limited, and even harder to get into. SSD is… hard enough with a home, but without? And despite my nagging Gov. Tom Wolf about reinstating cash assistance for the disabled, it’s gone unnoticed by the media - even though it helped save and better lives and was only 0.10% of the PA annual budget. So without work, income, a place to rest since I’m nearly bedridden again, and dealing with depression and chronic illness? …I’d do it again if that was definite.
I’m trying to look at the best-case scenario, where I get through this, I’m able to make the extra $400/mo to keep my home until it’s secured. So I can be positive and contribute to my friends’ lives. So I can do all these art projects, create, maybe even sell - if I’m lucky. And of course so when I stream, I’m not doing it “for the money”, which in itself guarantees failure - rather because… it’s something I care about. The one hobby I have left I can do easily. I want a better life so badly. So my heart doesn’t constantly feel like it’ll explode under the stress like it does now.
Sorry… I’ve unpacked a lot with this post. Frustrations with abandonment, a godawful financial situation, clinical depression, loss of family, homelessness… I’m not doing well on my goal of not sounding like the Temple OS guy. Still, this is why I’m struggling with my mental health. This… mess.
I’m going to try to get back to streaming soon. Ideally this evening. I hope I can still be at least semi-entertaining. I really do want to be a positive voice, and hopefully soon a success story I can use to elevate others in my situation.