Posts Tagged Emotional issues

My booooonnnesss they huuuuurt. Yes, I am haunted by the girl that I used to be.

I hate feeling so old. I will be 32 on March 3rd. I feel as if I am nowhere near any of my goals I’ve had in mind for my future. But, on the other hand, when I entered residential treatment I didn’t think I had ANY more fight left in me. Now, I am feeling that strength again. Still not as resilient as I used to be, but, nowhere near as weak and dead as I had been feeling. I just had left hip surgery, the surgeon got rid of this horrid bone spur that had been killing me for YEARS. I couldn’t remember what it felt like to NOT FEEL PAIN. It was a miracle I tell you. However, the ghastly arthritis in my knees is still aching to the bad brittle bone. Sad. Oh well, I will not let that crap get to me like it used to. I don’t see an end anymore, just beginnings in site. I even had this dream that I was a child again, maybe 5 or 6 years old starting first grade. However, in the dream I had all the knowledge I have now but at that age. It really was like I had a chance to start over again.  So, I am just trying to stay positive get through the winter (sad face) and, oh, totally looking forward to sinus surgery in February. I am getting a Septoplasty and Turbinate Reduction surgery. The doctor said I have a bone spur in my nose MY NOSE!! I will be so happy to be able to breathe again and not get drainage caught in my middle ear (feels like I am under water). Oh, yeah, I have a pretty bad deviated septum, again, something I just put a “band aid” on for years. Well, this is the year for preventive care because who knows what’s going to happen with our healthcare coverage in the future.  Anyway, I have been working on my absurd amount of anxiety with my therapist and I still go to IOP three days a week SAMI (Substance Abuse Mental Illness). I have been becoming more aware of my triggers and how to stop them before I get out of control. I have been practicing mindfulness a lot and for the first time in my life I am at peace with my spirituality. I used to not speak of it because others always had such strong views in their faith. I do not have particular faith but I do believe in energy and change. Okay, arthritis is hurting my hands now! Take care, everyone.

 

Senior High School Pictures lolol  (The lost roll!!)

Senior High School Pictures
(The deleted Roll!!)

Jk, I took those earlier in the evening with my computron.

 

 

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Therefore By the Grace of God Go I…

So, I have no idea who is even still reading or following my blog at this point. Apparently I had not updated in here since the end of November. There is just cause for my long delay of absence, I promise. So, I am not sure if I had updated in here that I almost died of Renal failure back towards fall/winter months. Well, you think that would have stopped me from drinking so much. Oh yeah, btw, I had a hell of a chemical dependency on alcohol. Anyway, a couple of months went by after the seemingly brush with death at the emergency room. My kidneys had been literally shutting down for 72 hours before I finally called the EMT to take me to the ER. After that and the seizure scare I wound up staying with my parents for a couple of months. I wasn’t really apt to drive a vehicle after that whole ordeal anyway. Well, I finally fessed up to my therapist about the extent of my drinking. I mean, it was bad. I could probably put back 4 or 5 steel reserve 40ozs in an evening.  I know, disgusting, right? Believe me, I am not proud of it, neither was I proud of the times I had fallen numerous times (once including in my bath tub, and was literally stuck for over 3 hours). Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. I found a residential treatment facility near where my parents lived but it would have taken them over a month to even have a bed there. At the rate I was going; I honestly don’t think I would have still been alive by the time they would have gotten me into their residential program. When I first came clean to my therapist she must have not realized the extent of my alcohol consumption because she thought I’d be able to do intensive outpatient. I knew the consequences were dire and I told her straight up that I was going to need residential treatment. Well, I got that ball rolling right before Valentines day because I do remember being in detox on Valentines day. I called the National Council on Alcoholism and they referred me to a great hospital who had a very comfortable detoxification program. I was only supposed to be in there for maybe 3 days tops, but they found out I had other medical problems wrong with me as well. Thank God no Hepatitis or any liver damage or anything of that detrimental nature. However, they found out I was Anemic. I was sitting here reflecting on this blog and all this time I had been complaining about how weak I was and how I wasn’t going to be strong enough to make a resilient comeback this time. Well, it turns out that my hemoglobin was so low that I was dangerously close to having to get bloot transfusions. I wound up with a couple IV drips of Ferrous Sulfate solution. Well, the residential treatment program I sought out was able to take me right away. All I had to do was go through detox and they had a bed already waiting for me. I could not believe how smoothly that transition went. I heard from them all the time that there’s always people on waiting lists just to get in there, yet, they basically stalk called me to find out if I was still interested in going. Mind you, I was a self admit. I didn’t realize how many women were there who were court mandated, came from CCNO (Correctionals Center of Northwest Ohio) which the judge I suppose suspended some of their jail time for treatment in lieu. There were also other women there who came straight from prison. But, I mean, these we were just normal women who got caught in the small towns they were from either doctor shopping, manufacturing illegal chemicals, and there were quite a few women in there who suffered from heroin addiction. One girl apparently was shooting up bath salts (I didn’t know that stuff was even around anymore) and there were very slim pickings when it came to alcohol chemical dependency. I would say the entire time I resided there I think maybe 2 or 3 women including myself were being treated for alcohol dependency. There was also another client in there with me who wound up being kidnapped and sold into human trafficking when she was just a teenager. She became addicted to crack during that time and actually wound up becoming addicted to prostituting herself even after she had her pimp put away in prison for a very long time.  Most of the women I met there were pretty decent. There were the occasional weirdos, like the girl who supposedly said her drug of choice was Dramamine. I still don’t know how I feel about her story. There was one woman in there with me who appeared seemingly normal when I first met her. Apparently she had met her abusive husband through Alcoholics Anonymous. I’ll tell you what though, towards the end of her treatment, bitch lost her damn mind. She was paranoid saying that people were bullying her during group every time she’d bring up her abusive spouse. Also, she tried to have me believing that I was being bullied as well. I am not sure if anyone knows much about residential treatment, but bullying is definitely not a behavior that any of those women exhibited. So yeah, this woman lost her damn mind at the end of treatment. She had put her husband away for over 5 years without parole. He almost completely beat her to death. She had a traumatic brain injury and everything. Also, it was told to another friend of mine that he actually beat her so badly that he beat a baby out of her. They put it in Tupperware in their backyard or something and didn’t even get a death certificate for it or anything. It’s funny when she went into psychotic crazy manipulative phase at the end of her treatment she changed the tune of her story entirely. Claiming that the baby had been stillborn. There are two things that fuck me up more than anything about her behavior. She had another baby by her husband and in her “rational” mind she thought that if she was holding the baby at the time that he would not abuse her. That’s some pretty fallible logic if I may say so myself, because I am pretty sure infants weren’t created to be shields. And, if you’re dying to know, no, that did not stop him from beating the shit out of her. But, what I suppose perturbs the most about her situation and the fact that she testified against her husband in court and put him away. She was trying to figure out a way to write him in jail despite what he had put her through. I mean don’t get me wrong. I understand Stockholm syndrome and all that, but she put him behind bars, yet still desperately tried to communicate with him. That girl had definitely lost a marble or a thousand. Oh, and the icing on top of that cake is that she wound up “successfully completing” the program around April and guess who shows back up for round two in June. The way I had it all mapped out in my head is that she waited for the girls who were apparently “bullying” her because according to her they were jealous of how attractive she was. Oh, that’s priceless. She walks like Quasimodo  but almost has the face of a hit Marsha Brady? By no means would these girls have felt any twinge of jealousy towards her. Oh, and I failed to mention according to them it’s my fault she turned all psychotic. Believe me, every chance they could find to call me into the administrators office, they would. I got blamed for everything from riling up group members to encouraging bad behavior. Yeah, it’s not like I ever broke any actual rules there, i.e.. getting caught smoking, testing positive during drug tests, etc, No, I had strictly behavioral problems, which I am pretty sure they can’t kick you out for that haha.  According to the administrator of the facility she swore up and down that the perception she gathered about me that I have Borderline Personality Disorder. Mind you, this administrator/counselor didn’t know the first damn thing about C-PTSD and SUD. She led a very charmed life with no setbacks, adversity, financial burden or even a god damn nicotine addiction. I was very upset with my therapist (not at her) during my first session back after leaving residential. I could not stop talking about how peeved I was that the administrator totally misdiagnosed me with BPD. I guess I was livid for two main reasons, the symptons of C-PTSD and ADHD are very similar to the traits that one with BPD would possess. I mean, trauma itself fall under an anxiety disorder and ADHD is a learning disorder. However, due to these factors, I may have overstepped boundaries, had intense mood swings, and even questions during an inappropriate time during our 3 hour long group therapy sessions almost every day of the week. Oh, I was also accused of being condescending and verbally abusive towards staff. Also, they did not understand my sarcastic and completely dry sense of humor often questioning me as if I were actually joking or not. Now, in all fairness, I can understand how growing up in the environment I did, with the family I did, and the trauma I was exposed to, might cause me to exhibit some traces of BPD. But, shit, I didn’t know any other means of survival. So, being 4 and a half hours removed away from them for almost a complete 6 months, I was able to acknowledge that some of my behavior may not been totally apropos.

But I guess what still bothers me when I think about it AGAIN, is that the administrator and my counselor were dead sure that I was manipulating them and all the people around me. When I would to say to them “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” And they’d still accuse me of lying. I honestly didn’t know half the time what they actually were talking about in regards to my behavior?! They made it seem like I was sitting in my room rubbing my Monty Burns hands together thinking of ways I could cause chaos and disrupt my treatment as well as the whole 9 other girls (who they managed to keep at that consensus at any given time)  because I apparently was some evil mastermind. And 9 girls with, two case managers (one was an intern when I got there then she wound up working there as a counselor as well), a facilitator who only did group, the administrator who did counseling and group, and the other therapist who did group on Mondays but also saw individual clients. There was also a nurse on staff, a monitor every 8 hours, a glorified secretary, and I think that’s about all. Point being, they couldn’t manage 9 women!! I had a therapist in Cincinnati who had over 100 clients, she never cancelled an appointment, and she remembered everything about me. That whole thing just blows my mind. So, yeah this treatment center was in a place called Fayette, Ohio. It used to be a roller rink, but they renovated it in 2001 to turn it into a residential facility. I was fortunately able to talk to my trauma therapist in Cincinnati once a week. I would always let her know the latest trouble I had gotten myself into. I also got a stern talking to because I never wanted to attend AA meetings. I still am, I don’t know, neither really here nor there with them. I mean they exist, I have 5 month sobriety coins and I had a temporary sponsor for a little bit. I just never really meshed with any of the group members where we would attend meetings. But yeah, my therapist said two very enlightening things to me that helped me put the one group facilitator into perspective. Oh god, I absolutely hated her, she was an idiot, to say the least. Anyway, my therapist told me that I didn’t always have to fight everything, that I didn’t always have to take a stand, and that if I left group or wherever saying things like “i could have done that better” she said that meant I hadn’t learned anything during that group. I halfheartedly agree with her. But, as for always not having to take a stand and fight everything and everyone (mostly staff and AA) I became a much more agreeable person who showed a lot of growth and maturity and blah blah blah. At the end of my treatment though, a bottle of liquid e-vapor was found in my trash and I got a little bit in trouble for that and wound up actually getting my certificate of completion a week after that incident. But, another horrible thing that administrator said to me was that if I kept treating staff the way I had been treating them the last two weeks of my treatment there that I was going to lead a very lonely life. I was like damn, that’s harsh.  And you know, I don’t know if that was something I necessarily needed to hear or not. I know sometimes therapists have been known to say things to me I don’t want to hear but that I actually need to hear. But, I am still debating this instance. She had no idea how close I was with the residents, how many lives I had touched, how many of them listened to me when I had answers or feedback for them and how I was very easy to talk to and get along with. I am actually extremely cordial, kind, empathetic, warm, funny, sensitive, introspective, and just basically got along with everyone I was in treatment with. It was just that damn staff that got on my nerves so bad.  Oh, and I did learn a shitty lesson while I was up there. A few of the residents were going to Walmart and I had to go to urgent care or something for swollen ankles, so I gave my  (whom I thought was a friend at that time) my debit card and told her to pick me up a couple of things, it couldn’t have totaled over 20 dollars. Well, I went to use my credit card not too long afterwards, like a week or so, and it said I had insufficient funds. Bitch had ripped me off for 150 dollars! She said in her little innocent voice, oh I may have spent a few extra dollars, but when confronted with my bank statement she knew nothing about those purchases made, when they were made in her home fucking town. I would never do that to anyone, but then again, I was surrounded by addicts. So, therein lies my case in point. At any rate, I learned a lot, set boundaries with my parents, my hips are much stronger now, I am no longer anemic, I sleep just fine, I haven’t drank in almost 200 days, and aside from all my mental disorder shit I still apparently am going to need to work on for quite some time even after my discharge (btw the program was only supposed to last 90 days). I exceeded my welcome on that one…

Anyway, so I was out of treatment for maybe two days, yes, I was released on Tuesday, and I was staying with a friend in Findlay near Toledo, and I remember telling her on Wednesday night I wasn’t feeling very well. So, I took off for bed around 11:30 pm or so. Well, me and nobody in the world would have guessed what happened next.  I woke up and I did not have my glasses on. I realized my throat was absolutely killing me. I didn’t understand why it was is in so much pain. Well, I go to move my arms and they are being held down by restraints. So, I have no idea where I am, what time it is, why my hands are in restraints and why there are tubes down my throat. Apparently, my friend tried to wake me up around 9 am or so to see if I wanted to take a walk with her and her baby. Well, she said I just kind of grunted and rolled over. Oh, also she said I was coughing pretty profusely at around 3:00 AM. So, I suppose some time had passed since she first tried to wake me up. Her mom heard me in the bedroom and thought I was snoring. No, that was not the case at all. I was aspirating. So, my friend luckily being an RN and a DON called the ambulance to come get me. She said she even tried rescue breaths on me but I was still unconscious not responding. They also tried a sternal rub to see if that would bring me back to consciousness too. That did not work, either. Well, they had me on a ventilator and then eventually put me in an induced coma so they could Intubate me. I got multiple answers from multiple doctors, they don’t know if I possibly had cardiac arrest or if my heart just failed momentarily due to unnecessary stress that possibly could have been caused by a seizure. I am still unclear. I had a touch of pneumonia and I almost stopped breathing completely and lost almost more than half of the oxygen in my brain.  So, yeah, ICU and my friend saved my life two days after I got out of residential treatment. I still find that so bizarre. God just had to pull one over on me didn’t he. I guess his cosmic sense of humor is as dry as mine. I have been recovered from that for about 2 or 3 weeks now, but you’ll never guess what happened after that. I broke my damn leg. I tripped in the hallway tried to grab my balance and landed on my fibula. I have a black cast on right now. So, despite all these adversary things happening to me I have not had the urge to go out and drink. So, I think I got that pretty much licked, for now. All in all, residential treatment did wonders for me. I am totally different person. I am ambitious again. I am not just doing nothing all day like I used to. However, I am kind of forced to right now with the broken fibula. I actually want to return to school and get my masters so that I can become a counselor for addicts and also trauma victims. I know what empathy actually feels like. I still want to do comedy on the side, and hell, maybe the memoir I had planned on writing can basically be about my stay at Serenity Haven. It was the best of times and it was the worst of times..

 

Hopefully I will start updating sooner now rather than you know 8 or so months from when I last posted.

Oh, and how could I forget. My brother is finally married and moved out of my parents house. I thought the day would never come. Unfortunately, I could not be in his wedding, because I was still in treatment when he got married and, also, I knew I would not have made it if I was presented with an open bar. I wasn’t being selfish, but maybe I was, maybe I am allowed to. I was only looking for my best interest. The wedding went on without me. Nobody spontaneously combusted. Crisis averted!

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It’s every day people who make life worth fighting…

So, I have come across some very colorful  people and their stories since my tumble from grace with this arthritic condition in my hips (I have the hips of a 65 year old and they need to be replaced). Now, not to mention my uphill battle with mental illness, after a decade of first being diagnosed “Bipolar” I still have no idea if that’s what is really going on or not. I get medication that is supposed to stabilize my mood, but then that interferes with my a.d.d.  stimulant medication,  then I have to take benzodiazepines to not feel sick fear anymore. Literally, I believe more and more each day I am becoming agoraphobic. Since my first hip surgery, I have rarely left my room. I have lost at least another 25 pounds because I just gave up on eating. This was not meant to be a sad post, but again, look at me, I turned it into another self loathing festival of fun. Anyway, about my situation. Until I can get my hips straightened out I have put grad school on hold. However, I am using this blog as a catalyst for the memoir I am working on. There’s just so much I could use, I don’t know where to start. Okay, off track from my point again. I don’t know what my actual “mental illness” consists of, but, I think it’s a bunch of confusing emotional disconnects. Honestly, I have told plenty of therapists this, so I don’t care to write it in here. I am 30 and 100% absolutely emotionally stunted. I am probably at the emotional age of a 23 year old now that I am an “adult”. I remember, when I was younger, people would always agitate me. They would antagonize me, for no reason, or so I thought that was the case. Through many therapy sessions, I realized that they only did it because they knew I would react to it. I would get really angry and upset and hurt and my friends or (evil assholes) thought it was a game. This was my emotional stuntedness. I grew up with an alcoholic father and a co-dependent mother. There was no peace in my house. I went undiagnosed with ADD until college (where my grades drastically shot up). And, I discontinued the therapy I was placed in as a child. That’s the biggest mistake my parents made was taking me out of children’s therapy. I had no way to cope. I didn’t know what coping even was! So, I got angrier and angrier. Every friendship I have ever been in save a few, have either ended dramatically, fizzled away, or just stopped. I went on this whole sabbatical about a year or so ago, where I just decided to stop going out and seeing any friends or talking to anyone. That was cathartic at first, but now it’s been so long and I want to talk again, I just don’t know what to say anymore. I think my sabbatical backfired on me. So, my disabilities, so to speak. I am currently collecting SSI for being Bipolar. I get a monthly government stipend (believe me, it’s not much), but it gets me by. So, with my insurance completely free, I can go to any doctor I want or see any specialist or get any medication for no cost. That is the only plus, with my physical and mental problems I think the health insurance more than makes up for the lousy stipend. Anyway, I have been bouncing around from therapist to therapist for years. I still haven’t found one who has really enlightened me. In fact, the last therapist I had before the one I am seeing now (whom I have to leave due to insurance and limited psychiatrist accessibility) she actually pulled out a pair of nail clippers and CLIPPED HER NAILS during our session. That is disgusting and totally unprofessional. Needless to say, we didn’t get along. Well, through numerous hospital hospitalizations, partial programs, group therapy, working at the United Way (resource line)  and connection to the Bureau of Vocational Rehabilitation; I was able to gather more than enough resources on how to quickly get the medications and help I needed right away. I made my way to a community behavioral health center. I never knew what a zoo it was. Not only is it  public, for people with no insurance and disperse income, it’s also right next door to the probation court building. The people who were put in jail for drug related offenses are sent there for rehabilitation, drug testing, classes, and group therapy. Also, I found out that my former psychiatrist (who left without even giving me a heads up) was leaving the end of last month. In his defense, he was seeing over 200 patients, but geez, a letter from the receptionist informing me of my choices would have been, oh, ideal, maybe. Anyway, he was responsible for one of the Suboxone programs that the clinic offers. There are A LOT of people there who take Suboxone. I learn a lot in the waiting room, because in public clinics they do not CARE how long you wait out there. I mean, my therapist admitted to me that she’s got 100 clients herself. Anyway, There’s always some amusing character in the waiting room though, so at least I am never bored, maybe a little anxious. However, I have always been uneasy around people. It’s just natural for me. So, today when I was seeing a nurse just to get my routine medications refilled, I noticed one of the windows in the waiting room had been busted out and was boarded up. I am telling you, if these people can’t get their shit to keep them clean, they go off the rails. This black lady was sitting on the other side of the room rummaging through her purse. She pulls out a baggy (yes a plastic baggy) of Cheetos. She then looks up to me and says “I ain’t paying 15 dollars for food at no theater!” My eyes instantly lit up, it was the interaction I had been waiting for, for days really. She, then begins pulling more and more Cheetos from her bag and putting them in the baggy, rambling on and on. She also informed me that she takes capri suns, skittles, and kettle corn, to the theater. She said, “I say to my kids I know you aint goin’ to no concession stand; I’ll smack you upside the head!” I laughed at her whimsical attitude. And, it is a very smart choice to sneak snacks in. So, she throws all her trash away, tells me that she’s so happy to be under 200 pounds for the first time in a long time, and tells me she also has a nutritional bar in her purse. She was sadly missing a few bottom teeth, but otherwise, looked very healthy and happy for her age. So, that’s not even the most interesting part about my waiting room experience. This younger girl (I would say mid 30’s? I couldn’t really tell, she was crying and strung out). She sits down by the woman and says “hey, are you Mammy?” The woman looked confused, and said yeah… I am, but I don’t know who you are? Then she proceeds to name some people in common they know. This woman still has no idea who this crying girl is. Then, out it came! “We was in jail together.” Oh, and also “don’t you remember we got high and went cruising” and the woman responds “in my lincoln?” This girl clearly remembers her, but this woman has no idea. The young girl had come in there on heroin and was trying to get on suboxone and she didn’t know if they were going to give it to her. She said “If I don’t getsuboxone I will just have to go out and self medicate again.”  Mammy, on the other hand tells her that she went through a few programs and I think she said she’d been clean over some 18 + months? I wish I could have recorded this experience. Sometimes, my memory fails me. These are the kinds of people I come in contact with every time I am at that agency. I do not look down upon them nor do I judge them. I am only moving to a private practice because my supposed new psychiatrist was only going to be available once a week. So, that was my no thanks. I enjoyed being there because they really helped me, but sometimes the waiting room could be a little intense. Some people, especially ones with serious mental illnesses do not understand boundaries.  I wouldn’t have these stories if I didn’t go to these public facilities under federal care. I feel like I am undercover doing research, because I have seen it all. I come from an upper middle class educated family and I have jumped into the depths of poverty. Mostly, because I just wanted to know how they were feeling, what was really going on, how they were being treated, and who was even being taken seriously. It’s awful. If you don’t know how to fill out years of paperwork, answer confusing questions, find loop holes in the system, or fight for your case; you’re screwed. I was in a public housing unit and my neighbor had the same lawyer as I did and she could not get SSI- Her anxiety was ten fold and she was probably 25 years older than me. It made me wonder, how did the judge decide that I was too “disabled” to continue with normal life, yet this poor woman with nothing, can’t even get a judge to listen to her. I didn’t even have to go to court. I just got a letter one day from a judge saying that he completely sympathized with my case and that the social security administration wasn’t taking my case seriously enough. (This was before the debilitating osteoarthritis). I have thought about being a social worker, because I know SO much about the system, I know that there are loopholes, faster ways to get what you need, getting everything and anything for free, etc.. However, due to my anxiety, I don’t think I could handle that kind of stress every day. Ironically, my first caseworker through work and family services , his name was William Faulkner. I am NOT kidding, and no it was not the author (I don’t think?) I was desperate to get medicaid, but since I didn’t have SSI yet, I was not covered. The Pdocs had me on medications that cost 660 out of pocket! One month supply! Don’t even get me started on that. Wait, I will, for a second. They want people to take these ridiculously expensive medications that are NOT affordable unless you are on welfare, which I don’t even know exists anymore? Yet, you can buy pain killers out of pocket, 20-30 dollars. Benzodiazepines – 11 dollars out of pocket. Ritalin- 30 dollars out of pocket. So, we’ve got narcotics, sedatives, and stimulants, way way way undercutting these alleged “maintenance” medications. Anyway, William Faulker said to me “Hey, I know a lot of Bipolar people, and they will approve you for SSI faster than if you were missing a leg”.  Now, I know there’s a lot of welfare “haters” out there. But, I have seen this first hand. Yes, there are wastes of human life that just sit around and eat all day. (I lived at the YWCA for a little while) I saw this one HUGE girl get so much food from a food pantry you’d think it was for an entire year. That program at the YWCA was a joke; it was supposed to improve the lives of women who were mentally ill and struggling. Instead, the taught you how to frost a fucking cake. Something was very backwards about that “women empowering women” banner on the front of the building. Anyway, I have seen people who were so miserably desperate for just housing it was at least a flicker of hope in their dark deluded world. Also, I hate the people who are taking advantage of the pain killers with the system. BECAUSE I am on Medicaid, and I don’t look elderly, it took forever for a doctor to take me seriously as an actual sufferer of chronic pain. I now have a wonderful pain management doctor and I get these back treatments that are amazing. (Yes, I have scoliosis and degenerative disc disease, too). I don’t believe in the so called welfare queen. The government gives you JUST enough to squeeze by. My government stipend went up 12 DOLLARS starting the beginning of 2013 and my food stamp allotment was lowered from 106 dollars a month to 16 dollars a month. I want to see these people “living pretty” off of government funds. You show them to me and I will shut my mouth. Most of those people are hard laborers, no joke. Even if they have babies, someone’s gotta work. And yes, some are pathetic and shouldn’t even have children, again, I have been witness to this in ALL socioeconomic classes. So, that argument will not fly. And one last thing, I absolutely 100% stand behind people getting drug tested if they were or are receiving ANY government assistance. Yes, that includes student loans as well, those kids aren’t off the hook! Anyway,  I was so worried about getting health insurance I just thought it was useless, that since I wasn’t married had no kid, and wasn’t officially on disability yet, there was no “box to check” for my particular case.  But he told me that there was this medical board approval form that you fill out at work and family services and they submit that and proof from two doctors explaining your disability.This is, IF you have the documentation (oh, and I had LOTS of paper trails that came with my illness). As, my dad so playfully conjoins “you’re a nut with papers” . The family services building workers will submit that for approval and you can get medicaid without having 20 babies. I was lucky that he was my first caseworker. He was smarter than most of the people in there; he knew what was up and I was magically sent to him. Anyway, things are just, arbitrary for me right now. But, after I talked to a few book publishers, one from NYC, I have been trying my damnedest to pour all my focus into this book. I just don’t know where to start. I have years of documentation, doctor’s records, psychiatric records, journals, online journals. I just can’t seem to [[<contain>]] it into a worthy subject to write about. My sorrowful plight as a dysfunctional unfortunate human species who cannot seem to function on her own? We’ll see what I bang out within the next few months.

156344_10151230499331275_523540330_n   Sigh.

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