God Help Me

I’m typing this up offline as there is only a small window of opportunity to use the internet, before Comcast knows I’m online and starts forwarding to their activation page. I was already in a horrible mood. When I lost the internet again yesterday I had a mini-breakdown as things began to pile up on me. Today it was a like bomb. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. As soon as Cynthia woke me up today and told me there was a message on the machine that she thought was from my mom, but it wasn’t from our phone numbers, I knew it was bad. To spare anyone who reads this I’ll put the facts in convenient bullet point form…

  • My mom’s psycho bf “WDisney” was sent to jail for threatening to kill my mom
  • He’s getting out soon
  • My mom is staying at a friends house
  • My mom is being evicted
  • She’s talking about moving to Texas

    Cynthia doesn’t seem to care about all this, she just says she knew it was going to happen. I thought it might happen too, but I had hoped it would end before it would go that far. I’m thinking about bringing the bowling pin (yes I have a bowling pin) up from the basement. It’s a good thing I’m staying up at night right now, because I’m going to have to be on the lookout for him. Unfortunately, he knows who my aunt is and where she lives. We hadn’t wanted him to, but thanks to my “you can trust WDisney” mom, she let him know. My mom said I could go get anything I wanted from the apartment in case he trashed it, but not only do we not know when he’s getting out, I don’t have a key anymore. She took mine and gave it to him. There’s a chance I might lose all my stuff, and my grandmother’s things, the only things I have left of her besides one picture, since her house burned down a few years after she died. And while I didn’t like it, and haven’t lived there in a while, I’m losing my home too. I’m never going to live there again. I may never see my mom again either, because there is no way I’m moving to Texas. Assuming he doesn’t trash anything, I’ll have to move a few of my most important things up here, and the rest will go wherever my mom goes. I’m also going to have to get my birth certificate and other stuff off her, since she’ll no longer be in charge of that. I have been staying here with my great aunt, but I don’t know how much longer that can last, and I have no where else to go. Obviously, this has shaken my already fragile state. Sometimes I curse my sanity, it would be easier to just break and go completely insane. I’m having so much taken away from me again, there’s a threat to both my things and my family, and I can’t even get on the internet to vent and waste time. I guess I’ll be reading the manga, since I won’t be able to listen to music or watch anime (which I’m running out of). And the same the next night and the next night. For who knows how long. I should stop here or I’ll ramble endlessly. I have to go get some more cleenex and something to chew on, I really need to stop biting the inside of my mouth.

    Edit: And if you didn’t see my Twitter in the sidebar, I do not have internet now. Hopefully it’ll come back in a couple weeks.

  • Let’s Get This Over With

    Obviously I haven’t felt like posting lately. I still don’t, but I’m forcing myself to. Today I finally went to the eye doctor. Ever since last year I’ve been pushing to see the eye doctor at Sears because I remembered that he was nice. I just didn’t remember how nice. The eye doctor there is such a nice guy, and seems like a very good doctor. So if anyone in the Pittsburgh area is looking for an eye doctor, go see the guy at Sears in South Hills Village. It’s tough getting out there now, for those who don’t have a car, Port Authority cut (and continues to cut) many of the bus and street car services. We had to take a bus downtown, then catch a street car because there aren’t any street cars that go all the way to South Hills Village for our area. You either have to go downtown and take the street car, or take the street car here, get off, then take another street car the rest of the way. I didn’t wait very long to see the doctor. My appointment was for 1 PM, but he saw me before then (he didn’t realize that until I got in – I was just there so he saw me). After checking my eyes he said the one of them, I think it was the left, had developed a mild (he said something about 2, level, minus, step?) astigmatism. He also said that my current prescription is too strong, and that this one should be much better, possibly even at little better than 20/20 (I didn’t know there was anything better). Since I had checked the headaches box, he asked about it, and I told him I was supposed to have an MRI done, because I’d been getting headaches for years, but that last year they got a lot worse, sometimes so bad that I couldn’t even stand. He asked why my PCP wasn’t sending me to a neurologist, since that would be better. I remembered that when I first went to him he talked about having me see a neurologist, but last time it was tough even getting the MRI from him. I think I know why, more on that later. Either way, he said, it was good that I was getting the MRI because any time there’s a big change in symptoms like that (like suddenly getting the worst headache you’ve ever experienced) you should get tests done. I also mentioned to the eye doctor that one of the reasons I was having the MRI done was because of the bad (in my opinion) head injury I’d had when I was younger, that left me temporarily blind. Since I got hit in the back of the head the eye doctor said it was a very good chance that it caused trouble, and thank goodness I got my vision back. After that we went to the Eat n Park out there, and managed to get a street car going all the way back here.

    We also briefly discussed mommy dearest. I haven’t spoken to her in a while, and she hasn’t called in about a week. Last time she called Cynthia talked to her. The first time she was going to the store and wanted to know if I wanted anything. Cynthia told her milk and potato buds. We didn’t hear from her again until a couple days later when she called to ask when I was coming to get the stuff. Since she had gotten a ride to the store Cynthia asked why she didn’t drop the things off here, and that if it stays down there too long it’ll expire. My mom said that she couldn’t have people drive her all over town. Now, maybe that excuse would work if Cynthia lived across town, but we are literally right up the street, on the same street. A couple days later my mom called from the doctors to say that the nurse took her blood pressure, and that the new blood pressure medication she was taken made her blood pressure too low and that she was so dizzy. She also said that poor white trash bastard has a lump on his back, and that one of his arms gets numb (oh, how horrible). So she called for a Pam pity party. I don’t know what made her think she would get any sympathy from Cynthia, for either of them. Cynthia said he blood pressure sounded great, and that she would be happy to have bp as low as that. And as for the white trash bastard, both my hands were number for over a month, and she didn’t give a shit, but he gets some numbness? The poor, poor man. Then Cynthia started asking her about him again and suddenly my mom had to get off the phone because the doctor would be coming. She called again later, and when Cynthia asked what the doctor said about the blood pressure she didn’t say anything, probably because there was nothing wrong. Cynthia asked her again about the white trash bastard, and they got into a big argument. My mom started talking trash about me. I don’t know everything she said, but some of the things she said was that I never do anything but lay around, that there was nothing wrong with me, and that I should get over it (the things she did to me). Cynthia mentioned that the my doctor said he wouldn’t sign any more disability papers until I had seen a psychologist, and my mom suddenly became very interested in taking me to get “help”, because she wants the money. After they were done Cynthia was swearing about her, and she rarely ever swears. At the most she occasionally says shit, usually just sugar, but this time she actually called her an asshole twice. Mommy dearest has a habit of projecting. Whatever she sees in herself she decides is other peoples problems. Everyone else does nothing, everyone else is a liar, everyone else is a hypochondriac. Meanwhile, all she has ever done when she had off was lay on the couch watching TV, literally not moving, she lies about every single thing, and is always saying something or other is wrong with her. This summer it was cancer. Even though she hadn’t seen a doctor she decided she had cancer, or “something just as bad” (in her words). It’s November now, and it seems she’s given up on trying to get attention that way. She’s been to the doctor quite a lot lately. A couple months ago her work made her go get x-rays because she was having back pain, and I know she’s been to the PCP at least twice in the last month, because she got new blood pressure medication from him, then went again to complain about dizziness. This is the reason I think the doctor has changed his tune in regards to me, my mother has gotten to him, and he won’t listen to me now. I had to prod him for the MRI paper that he had originally given me freely because of the problems I’d been having. But then my mom took the papers for my MRI, CT Scan, and blood test, lost them, and refused to get more. Then when I finally got there again (she took me so she could get him to sign the disability papers so she could get the money for it) she followed him in when he came to see me, and when I tried to take the papers talked down to me. So I know she’s been saying crap about me to him. All he and that nurse (who seems like a real bitch to begin with) care about now is trying to get me to a psychiatrist, and won’t listen to me. Today I wondered to Cynthia if I should take medication. But a) I don’t think it would do any good, and b) why should I have to pay the price for this? My mother is the one who caused this, it’s my mother who is insane. I can’t stand this mindset of “you are depressed. this is not okay. you must be happy. we will make you be happy.” Oh, and mommy dearest has bronchitis again. But she didn’t get it because she smoking. Because she’s not. Even though she was seen smoking. More than once. Everyone else is just mistaken. You know they’re just delusional, and you can’t trust what they see. She’s not a liar or anything…

    Every Year Worse Than Before

    I had to push myself to write this because I really don’t want to. Living it and thinking about it is enough, I don’t want to write about it as well. But I have to. All this began quite a few weeks ago. It was when we were out of food stamps and money, so I wasn’t eating. Then my mother got fired from her job. I’ve said before that she’s been having continuous constipation. My mom said that one day while at work at Rite Aid she was with a coworker and took out a sepository (not looking that spelling up) told the woman she was doing it, and left a note on the package for the manager saying she would pay for it on payday, and let the woman know what she was doing. After my mom was gone the woman (her name is Anna, I think, not sure of the spelling) called the companies 800 number and reported my mom for stealing. She was suspended for 3 days and then fired. My mom said her boss and other coworkers were very upset, because they all think Anna is a backstabbing bitch (which she is). My mom’s boss liked her too, but there was nothing he could do with the companies decision.

    My mom started looking for a couple new jobs, and still is, I don’t think she’s been trying very hard. This was a huge, horrible blow. Even at Rite Aid we were living paycheck to paycheck and never had any money. She’ll be taking a big pay cut when she finally does find work. But that’s not the half of it. Instead of seriously looking for a new job (which I don’t think she has) she came up with a new plan, get rid of me and get a roommate.

    She wanted to send me to my great aunt Laura’s in Maryland, who while seems nice, I’ve only met a few times. The roommate she was talking about was that psycho she had met down at the bar and started practically living with (she was paying the rent of our apartment but staying with him all the time) after she had only met him 1-3 months prior. There was no way I was going down to Maryland. My mom first told me about the roommate plan on the day I hurt my foot. I was upset and against my better judgement I had called her. I was hurt and scared and wanted my mother. She was drunk, and she immediately turned the whole thing about her, though she would’ve done that even if she hadn’t been drinking. She had watched Dr Oz earlier that day and there was a segment on cancer, so she decided she must have colon cancer since she can’t go the bathroom. She hadn’t had any tests done (and still hasn’t even though she has the prescription for it, and has had plenty of time) she kept saying she knew she had cancer. She also said we had to get a roommate. I called Cynthia directly after that, sobbing because of my horrible mother. She said then that I could stay with her while my mom had the roommate, but didn’t mention it again. After that there was little mention of the roommate, though practically every time I saw her she was trying to get me to go to Maryland. She also decided that we were both going to go on disability, her for depression, and me for OCD. My great aunt has been telling her for years to try to have me put on disability and SSI, and I even had the papers from a former doctor listing disability for six months, but she never did anything about it – until it was convenient for her and she wanted the money. Now she’s making $205 a month off of a health issue she caused. The day we went to the doctor she mentioned the roommate thing again and said she was serious. I said that either way I wouldn’t be there. When she asked why I said Cynthia had told me when I first heard about it that I could stay with her, which wasn’t lying, she did say that. But she hadn’t mentioned it again, and I didn’t tell her I was going to stay with her. Of course what I really meant was I was going to kill myself. At the doctors I had planned on getting the prescriptions for my blood test, CT scan, and MRI. When I got them, on the first of November and beginning of December last year my mother took them from me and promptly lost them. She refused to go to the doctors and get them again, or get them when she was already at the doctors. Since I was there this time, I was going to ask. Then after my mom finished her appointment with him she came in with him to sit in on my appointment! When I got dizzy she told him “well we usually only eat once a day” and when I told her I wanted the blood test, CT scan, and MRI papers she said “what you think you still need it?” about the MRI. She was diagnosing me and ridiculing me in front of the doctor! When she said that about the MRI I told her to stop it, and on the way out she said she didn’t mean it like that, but I know she did. When somethings wrong with her its the end of the world, when somethings wrong with something else they’re a hypochondriac. Last summer when I getting numbness, and having trouble swallowing, and a myriad of other recurring symptoms, she told me to take prozac so I wouldn’t worry about it. So I still don’t have the papers for the blood test, CAT scan or MRI. When I told her she acted surprised, and when I told her several more times. No, I’m suddenly healed! I have no more numbness, pain, my blinding headaches and dizziness are gone, my balance and coordination has returned, I don’t walk into walls anymore or start falling down for no reason! My memory is now perfect and I have no problems talking, writing, or thinking. Yay! Of course I still need the freaking CT scan and MRI!!! What does she think, Jesus decended from heaven and healed me? Everything that was wrong then still is now. The numbness isn’t as bad, and I while I still have trouble swallowing I’m managing the problem, but everything else is the same and as bad as ever. And apparently the dolt doesn’t realize that if there was serious damaged caused by the head injury it’s permanent, unlike the temporary OCD disability the doc signed off on. Now I have to go to a doctor for OCD and possibly be put on medication. I refuse to talk to a psychologist or be put on meds. The reason for the first is I not only don’t like talking to people about my feelings, but I have physical difficulty talking. I can’t remember words or what to do with them, and things always come out jumbled. The reasons I don’t want to be on medications are first of all my mother thinks of it as a way to get me to shut up, second medication comes with side effects, and I have so many problems to begin with I don’t need the it to be made worse. The third reason is I’ve been like this for a very long time, and I don’t want to take something that will change me into something I’m not. Another reason for both the shrink and the meds is I really don’t think they’ll help me with either OCD or depression. Yes, some depression is caused by a chemical imbalance, and while I don’t doubt I do have one, the majority of my depression comes from outside problems. Problems that can’t be fixed, glossed over, or gotten over.

    My mother started cleaning earlier this week, possibly late last week, and kicked it into high gear. She said she might bring someone with her to help her clean, which infuriated me. She wanted to bring in that psycho to go through our things, my things?! And she did, though the first day all he did was sit on the couch and watch TV. I had been going to my great aunt Cynthia’s almost every day to eat, so I retreated to her place later on. When I got back the place was still a mess, this time of trash bags, empty totes, and filled totes to go into the closet. The bed was fixed up in my old room, the one I had left last year, the bed made, and stuff piled in front of and on my dresser. He moved in that day. Just like that. As if I wasn’t a bundle of nerves and anxiety, with my depression was worse than ever that that night my mom just ignited the situation. She came into my room that night and accused me of taking a pillow out of the dryer. She said she put the pillow in the dryer and it wasn’t there anymore. I didn’t take anything out of the dryer or even touch it. I did go into the room briefly to see what she had done and then closed the doors to the washed and dryer (which some genius put in the closet of that bedroom) so that cat wouldn’t jump back there. My stupid mom had left the door to the bedroom open, and the door to the washer and dryer open, when she knows that cat’d get into everything. My mother didn’t believe me and even called Cynthia to say I had stolen her pillows. Then she twice searched my room (her old one) for it. It was half funny to see her searching for something she couldn’t possibly find hidden since I didn’t take it, but also infuriating because I don’t like being accused of things I didn’t do, and then have no one believe me. The next day we went downtown and I asked her if she had found the pillow she had accused me of stealing and she said she hadn’t. She also basically said I should get used to the situation with the roommate because Walt (the psychos name) knew I didn’t it and had barely even gone to the bathroom the day before. Yes, poor, poor Walt. He’s the one suffering here. It didn’t matter that I had barely gone to the bathroom that day because of this. After we came back I went up to Cynthia’s where she said that on the phone the day before my mom had accused me of taking a pillow and her clothes and said that she didn’t like being lied to (do all pathological liars have that pet peeve?). On Wednesday night my mom came into the bedroom again with a pillow and hit me a couple times with it and said the pillow had magically reappeared and it was a funny trick I’d played on her. I told her I didn’t play any trick and I didn’t take any pillow. My mom said she had thought it was funny, but I was the only one who could have done it, and there was something wrong with me if I really thought I didn’t take the pillow and she would have me committed. I started crying then, she’s just so horrible, so cruel to me. And I told her no, only that I didn’t do it. She just left the room after that and I screamed behind her that she was a lying whore. She came into the room and said that if I ever called her that again she would punch me in the face. Even though it was late I called Cynthia because I was so upset with all this and told her everything that happened. And I know what happened with that pillow. Either my mother wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing originally, or she was purposely tormenting me to try to get rid of me. She had been so desperately trying to send me to Maryland, and had actually said earlier on Tuesday that she wanted me to go up to Cynthia’s “for a couple days.” But there’s one more person who could have done it, that white trash bastard she’s been seeing. He is white trash, and alcoholic who doesn’t seem to work, but seems to function perfectly except for a cigarette induced cough, so he must be on disability for what “health problem” I don’t know. I say he’s a psycho because he’s shown himself to be very obsessive. I’ve written before about him constantly calling, sometimes 7 times in a span of 20 or so minutes. Every time I saw her since she started seeing him (which was rare) she was always getting calls and texts from him. Even when we went to welfare for the interview he called twice just to “see how she was.” We weren’t there for more than a few hours, and the second time she had to run out to see what the call was during the interview. So he’s my prime suspect, though it could have just as easily been her. At 2:30 in the morning after that she came in, drunk, and started cleaning the bedroom. She found some DVDs on the floor and accused me of hiding them all while saying sarcastic things like yep, you’re not a liar, I’m just imagining things, and random things like I’m on a cleaning frenzy. I found out yesterday that pillow and clothes had changed into pillow and DVDs, that I had also taken DVDs she had bought because she couldn’t find them. I don’t know what DVDs I supposedly took. She had actually taken most of the DVDs we own when she was going over to his place. What she did when them I don’t know. Wednesday night/Thursday morning was the closest I ever came to trying to kill myself. I had planned on doing it when he moved in, but decided to try and wait and see. I knew it was a bad idea, that I would just bring myself more suffering, and I did. I came very close Thursday morning. The problem was I waited. I wanted to wait so I would be good and tired so hopefully I’d be able to fall asleep quickly after drinking the bottle of prozac, and spare myself a possibly painful conscious death. But I couldn’t calm down. Every time I thought about doing it, and I had the bottle all poured out into a glass (thought it would be easier, bigger mouthfuls) and waiting. But I still couldn’t do it. I was too scared of an agonizing death, or not dying at all and ending up worse than before, or having a seizure. So I’m still looking for that tall building. I tried to go to sleep after that, but not only was I having trouble sleeping from all the anxiety, but they’re so constantly noisy. The few days they were there they were up until 3-4 AM watching movies at full blast and playing music. Then what sounded like an alarm, repeated jingling alarm sound every few minutes kept going off probably in the dining room. I think he might have done it to disturb me early in the morning, like my mom with her cleaning. Then at 5:30 he was heating pizza in the microwave! I didn’t fall asleep until 7 AM and got up after 12. Then I called Cynthia. She had mentioned staying with her when I talked to her the night before, but once again didn’t mention it this time, but I asked her anyway and she said yes. My mom came in later and asked a question about the caller ID on the TV. We have Comcast triple play, so the number or name of the person who’s calling shows up on the screen, but it wasn’t then. On Tuesday and Wednesday there were brief blackouts, so the cable box reset. It takes a while for it to really get going again. Then she asked if I was going to apologize for the mean name I called her, and I told her I would when she apologized of accusing me of doing something I didn’t do. She said what was I saying, that a ghost took it and put it back? Of course I was saying nothing of the sort, only that I wasn’t the person responsible for it. She just left again. Then I cleared out an old suitcase, and got an old backpack off her, and took the laptop up to Cynthia’s. Later on I went back down to get some other stuff. I had my mom come in my old room with me and watch me so she’d know what I was taking, and wouldn’t be accused of stealing the whole washing machine next. I took my Code Geass doujinshi, Junjou tin and stickers, (the prozac), Schneizel voice doll (who can’t speak yet because he needs batteries) and some other things important to me I don’t want to lose. My mom said I didn’t have to take anything, that he wouldn’t go through my things, and he isn’t the type to steal, which I know is not true. How should she know what type of person he is anyway? She’s not known him for more than 5 months. I was going to take the cat with me, but my mom asked, and asked me not to, and leave her in the air conditioning and not trap her in one room. I had to give in to it, though I didn’t want to. I’d rather my girl with me, and not near that guy but it’s been so hot here, I can’t take her out of the air conditioning. I don’t trust that guy. When we were at welfare my mom suddenly mentioned something like “I don’t care what I’m not getting rid of the cat, I didn’t get her just to leave her.” It was so strange and out of the blue. As long as my mom is there I will allow her to stay. If she starts working Allie will come with me for the time, because I do not want to leave her with him.

    So now I’m at Cynthia’s. There’s no cable, air conditioning, or internet, and Cynthia can be a contentious person, but I’m alive for now. I’m using someone’s wireless network that they have without a password, so I have to be careful where I login and to immediately sign out when I’m done. At least I have internet at all. I don’t know how well downloading anime would go though, pretty bad I think SpeedTest.net lists the speeds as 1.44 down and 0.33 up. I told my mom I want to try to get on SSI like Cynthia and Naomi (extended family member, probably a cousin) has been saying I should do for a while. I want money. I know it wouldn’t be a lot, but I just want enough to be able to buy things like a normal person. Get a manga once in a while, or some other animanga merchandise, kawaii merchandise, get or renew a domain. Right now I only get a small amount of money once in a while, that I can only spend at certain places online.

    Near the end of June, after the foot/mom/cancer incident I realized something. I don’t love my mother anymore. For almost 20 years, no matter what she did I still loved her, even though sometimes I hated her. But she has permanently damaged our relationship this time. Now I don’t love her and just hate her, and sometimes not even that. Sometimes I feel bad about it, I remember how when we did get along we really got along. But not anymore.

    That’s all I can think of right now, pretty much everything that’s happened recently. Schneizel once again gets icon status, just because he’s hot. This picture is actually the one I have set as my admin accounts. It’s a good one.

    Insert Heavy Sigh Here

    Thought I’d put something up before I went to bed. It’s almost 7 AM, but I’ve cycled back into sleeping during the day again. It’s easier that way anyway. I’m not in a good mood. My depression has been in full swing for days. Usually it lets up for at least a few hours, but right now it’s been non-stop. I didn’t even get to go out at all this week. My mom said we’d go to Eat ‘n Park on Wednesday, then on Tuesday she said we’d go on Thursday, and of course we didn’t.

    Today is my aunt Cyndy’s 50th birthday, though she refuses to admit it and keeps saying she’s something like 47. We were supposed to go write 50 on her cars windshield with a glass marker. It was my idea, and we’ve been talking about it for months. In late June my mom found out she’d have to work this day, but still said we’d find a way around it, by going there late on the day before, or the day of after she got off work. Now my plan is ruined, and I’ve been looking forward to it for so long. I never get to do anything fun like that, I’m at home everyday all the time.

    My moms also been asking me what I want to do for my birthday (and like we’d actually end up doing it anyway). I don’t care, I hate my birthday. I’m 18 and already falling apart, I don’t want to get any older.

    I’ve been thinking about starting a fansite again. I get the feeling from time to time, but it usually goes away. I used to love running fansites, it was my life and something I was actually good at. I’m not as good at blogging, or running a personal site. But other people, hackers, flamers, bitchy, I’d say practically evil competition ruined it for me. It made me miserable, and it was torture getting online everyday for something like that. It just wasn’t worth it. But still, I get the urge from time to time. It didn’t help that last night I decided to check out HPANA, which made me look to TLC, and eventually Mugglenet, and I saw on the latter an interview Natalia Tena did with the LA Times. That hurt. She’s the last one I ran a fansite for, the one that made me decide to give up fansites “forever.” Anything about Natalia Tena or Clemence Poesy still upsets me now. Not as much as it used to, but it still opens old wounds. That definitely didn’t help improve my mood any.