I really don't think anybody sees this blog at all. I come on here, and pour my heart out, and not one person comments on it. I'm not technologically gifted. I have no idea how to link this thing up so that it goes everywhere in cyberspace that it needs to go to make a connection with anybody. It's so damn frustrating...
Last August, a reporter came and did an article that was supposed to be about how my parents were hoarders, and how my brother and I had hoarding tendencies because that's how we were raised. To my dismay, I was made the focus of the story and labeled an outright hoarder. Bad enough I suffer from severe emotional issues stemming from a lifetime of domestic violence...and now this. Both of these issues have a certain stigma that leaves a bad taste in people's mouths, so to speak. At a time when I need people to be there for me the most...most of them are pulling away from me.
Our house is mostly dirty and dusty with piles of stuff everywhere. No, we don't have hundreds of animals. No, we don't have bags of human and/or animal waste lying about the place. No, we don't have piles of rotten food with maggots and fruit flies all over them. What we have is a nearly 40 year old house that has never been properly taken care of, and it shows. The walls are covered with nicotine stains and cobwebs. There are rotting floorboards and holes in the walls that need to be repaired. The house needs a lot of work.
Since my mom passed away, her home equity loan has become a major issue. Her creditors are trying to force me to assume her nearly $50,000 debt or face foreclosure. They have broken their promises to me on payment arrangements before. I don't trust them. Now it comes down to getting help from compassionate people who are willing to help someone like me, or losing everything my family ever owned and being left out on the street. I promise you this...if it comes down to that, I will not stick around to see what happens next. I know you all know what I mean by that.
Mom always told me that things have to get better from here. They never have. No matter how hard we worked to make things better, it always blew up in our faces. Unless you are capable of greasing palms and lining pockets, face it, you're fucked. The poorer you are, the more eager people are to take what little you do have away from you. Only people with money have the right to be healthy and happy...the rest of us can go straight to hell. I wonder how long it's going to be after I've lost everything that somebody finally sees this blog and comments on it. By then it will be too late...in more ways than one.
One day, I would love to get off of disability and have a job doing something I love. I love to write. I love to take pictures. I am very good at both. I'm a little OCD, tending to correct errors in newspaper articles or other reading materials as I come across them because it drives me crazy if I don't. Nobody should ever feel like they are a useless human being just because they are incapable of earning a living, whether it be temporary or permanent. Narrow-minded people with their preconceived notions and their judgments think that their labels are enough to define me. I can assure you that they are not. I have depth of character. I have worth. I am a lot like my mother, and I couldn't be prouder about that. She was an amazing person, and I loved her dearly. I always will.
If I had never run the gamut of abuse throughout my lifetime and for so many consecutive years, I'm sure I would be a very different person. But, would I want to be? Be it physical, sexual, emotional, verbal or psychological, I have endured it all. Would I trade a peaceful happy childhood for the person I am today just so that people would like me better? Hell no. Screw them. I may be extra emotional, but I have strength in other areas.
I am tenacious. I could have allowed my pain to fuel extreme violence, sadism, cruelty and all sorts of unpleasant things. But I refused to choose that path. I love who I am, and I will never surrender my childlike tendencies to anyone. They will remain rooted at the very depths of me, and hopefully one day, the bitterness, skepticism and mistrust will eventually fade to a distant memory. It's unnerving how multi-faceted I am. My writing reflects childlike joy one minute, naughty humor and/or bitter sarcasm the next. People never know what I'm going to say next. I love to keep them guessing.
I want to have the chance for people to see me for who I really am...without all of the labels. Without all of the preconceived notions. Underneath all of the unpleasantness, there is a wonderful human being in here who is long overdue in saying..."You like me...you really like me!" ;)
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