Okay, today was a bit of crash and burn mostly because I couldn’t sleep as I lay in terror of my night worker when it was revealed after I lost the ability to speak and wrote “I talk too much: come back 12:15" in print and found out.....my night worker couldn’t read. I am not sure if it was a literacy thing or if her eyes were so bad but she was just sort of guessing on many of the words and Linda said my block printing was better than my normal writing. So, finding out you have a non-literate night worker who is a chain smoker and has pretty much shaken you down for your keys to go for a smoke because she is jonesing for a smoke (she isn’t EVER supposed to leave the apartment), is kinda scary. I told her, if you leave, I won’t let you back in (because I didn’t have digit control so I could use the phone). She was at the point of waking up Linda to get the keys for the front door. Plus, she was sent to me because she was “specially tasked for oxygen” but didn’t recognize an oxygen canister OR a concentrator.
So, after I tried to unsuccessfully instruct her to straighten out my legs in bed, I lay there terrified that I would wake up half paralyzed. Then I would only have an illiterate and un-medically educated night worker (she didn’t know what blood pressure was…for just one example) who already indicated it wouldn’t worry her if I died to rely on. Then about 6:00 am I realized that she was sleeping in my book study, where I have my entire life collection of books, most unreplacable but to try and replace would cost between 50,000-80,000 for the core of the collection (it might be much, much higher as I have shelves and shelves of books worth over $500 each, as there are only 100 or 150 copies, several of my books are unique including one which is the last of two copies left in the world). Well, what is a $500 book worth after someone has smoked a cigarette next to it? It is called “a reading copy.” So here I was terrified that she has ripped my heart out metaphorically and when she came in the morning, I could smell her smoke 20 feet before her. Linda said the room was full of smoke smell but we couldn’t find a butt, so I told Linda to tell her to go (and she rushed outside for a smoke). And we started airing out the room.
I then called Beacon Home Care. They couldn’t find me on system. I told them I used to be Juan De Fuca. And they transferred me to a scheduler I know. I asked if it was in my file that I have respiration issues and cannot breath independent at times. She said it was. And that I used oxygen? Yes. I asked, is it normal to send a chain smoker to someone with respiratory problems because I can’t breath with my diaphragm and if my little clusters in the lungs close up any more, I won’t be breathing at all. She was frustrated and apologetic because Beacon has just picked someone and sent them just because it didn’t say NO SMOKERS in the file (if they ever read it). I mentioned the reading problem and how she didn’t know about oxygen AND tried to leave me at midnight to go smoking (hey, I pay you $200 to make sure I am alive in the morning, you don’t get to leave, okay!).
Well, due to the five hours of sleep I was a little hyper (I have Bipolar II and stress and lack of sleep can cause a slight trigger) so I went to Triumph to find out that, the government of BC is not going to hire anyone from Triumph – they won’t even return phone calls. There was some irony in the government PAYING Triumph to find PWD’s jobs and then refusing to hire any. Anyway, I was given (wait for the surprise) the contact of some disability organizations to apply at. I told them I was happy they would still see me after the BBC piece. The manager looked blank. I said, I wrote extensively about your “behaviors” program for the BBC, it was the second highest received piece in BBC disability history? She said, “Well, it wasn’t anywhere big.” (she said that without irony, BBC=no exposure) I said, that I guessed she didn’t see the piece in the local magazine either. Nope. Okay, no problem. Anyway, I went out and decided (little manic remember), to apply for a job at EVERY running store in town (of which there are MANY) due to my decision to attempt "ironic job applications."
So I started with the The Foot Store. They wouldn’t even accept a resume. Then I went to The Running Room. It required going down two stairs to get into the store, which I did backwards with the chair. I told them that I had 12 years in retail, five in management and I had worked for Sports World. They said I could hand in a resume. I asked, “For staff or management?” And the woman googled at me like I had hit her and then said, “STAFF!” Odd, because in my retail experience, getting a bunch of assistant managers was always a priority because you needed people to do the end day money bookkeeping, stock ordering, etc. Someone reminded me later that often people assume that if you are in a wheelchair you are a bit DIM. Ahhhhhh!
I asked the woman at the Running Room if she could think of any other running stores to apply at, she suggested the New Balance Store, and I told her that store wasn’t high on my list as it had multiple stairs to get inside. She told me the owner of this store owned that one too. I went out and of course could not get up the two damn stairs until someone came and gave me a bit of a hand.
At Triumph I asked them straight out, I said, “You list outside that you are an HR company but I researched you, you have ONLY worked with people forced to search for work off welfare before this. You don’t have a job pool do you?” And I was told no, they don’t have a single job there.
So with the Tin Cup Cheryl gave me, I was thinking of going back on Thursday with a sign in front of Triumph “Need Money for Resume at Real Temp Agency” But like I said, I was a bit high, and these ideas seem better when high.
At home I slept many, many hours and then like all things that go up, I ended up a bit down. Which is why it has been exceeding hard for me to write this. But writing is the dedication against the confines of emotion. I wanted to finish with a highly rated Trailer/Teaser I posted before of Elfed Lied, an cult hit anime about girls who are a genetic mutation (they have invisible extra hands and extra little ears). These girls are tortured, abused and driven insane by the government and the population for being different. The Red Head was tortured by people before being captured by the government where she was subjected to tests and abuse for years before freeing herself. She has two personalities, the psychotic one and an innocent, and though the help of a childhood friend, the only person who accepted her, the two personalities are trying to become a balanced person. The younger short haired girl is the daughter of the scientist who runs the facility, even though he trains her to be a national weapon, but when she is hurt, he teaches her to use her invisible limbs with prosthetic arms and legs. One very young girl, kept locked up from age of one in a steel cage is totally insane. The trailer is EXTREMELY violent and covers the subject of sexual abuse, physical abuse, bullying, and its psychological effects. I, of course, recommend it highly (I’d call it my bio, except I never got special powers and no one came – no one turned back time for me). Shiva and someone else was looking for this one.
I am sorry this post has been much “news” and not much art. Right now, my personal feeling is such that the question I keep asking is “What sin could I have committed to pay for so long?” Or rather, “Is the sin of my existence the cost of suffering to me and those around me?” Which will tell you where my head is tonight but yeah, I know it won’t last forever and I have to fight it.
You can leave now if you want (as in, this isn’t going to be happy) and maybe I told this before but when I saw the movie Superman (dates me huh!), I became totally dead inside, in fact it is one of the movies which still makes me extremely angry. Because Superman turned back time…..turned back time, for just ONE person. As if there weren’t others of us waiting, hoping that someone, anyone would come for us, and Superman comes for ONE person. I think that is part of the reason that even now, even as the crip, you don’t ever want to threaten Linda. Not that she can’t take care of herself but I have always felt and fought my demon, well with the exception of a few seconds here and there, which my therapist says isn’t sociopath behavior but actually controlled events within strict rules. I say differently because while the person might have provoked me by trying and continuing to hurt me intentionally (and yes physically), they did so because they knew nothing better, while I merely waited and unleashed a small portion of the calculating beast inside of me – for some reason always at men, I can’t remember if I made one wet himself or not in fear but he never ever came near me again (no it isn’t something I like about myself or am proud of). Do I want you to believe I am a monster? Not really. I cut myself so I never lash outat others. But since Linda is the one person who has been there, who HAS come for me, then even I do not want to see what would happen after. So yeah, dark thoughts. Here is an another AMV about a lesbian couple (she is kissing her with WINE, not blood), I asked Linda which one she identified with and she said the one in red, the Protector. I guess, being disabled has changed things a little, or maybe how she sees me a little too (am I the small, fragile one?). Anyway, happy watching and a happier tomorrow (watch it, it is tres’ good).
7 hours ago