This woman was recently diagnosed with MS, I don't know her, you probably don't either.
It doesn't matter.
I don't have any money to give, But I can post a link that you can go to and give if you can.
I don't know her, except that she posts on the BBS I frequent.
People on that board recently helped me, I want to help her, but this is all I can do.
She did not ask me to do this, I didn't ask permission, I'll remove this link if she asks me too, but only if she asks me too.
Again, please help if you can.
http://www.msillinois.org/site/TR?px=1517854&fr_id=1190&pg=personal
-The Greeter
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
My Sister's final message to mom; Better Luck Next Time!
Anyone who's been reading this blog for awhile knows the colorful history of my family, now 1 day after my dad's birthday, my brother told me of my sister's final message to mom.
"Better luck next time!" -Linda" That was the 4 word message on the card attached to the flowers she sent to my mom's funeral.
Charlie and our stepdad saw the card and got rid of it before I could see it (for reasons that should be obvious). He let it slip this morning as we talked on the phone.
I am truly sick with anger!!!!!!
Obviously to say my relationship with my sister is estranged is a profound understatement!
At least now I can cleanly cut through any & all questions about my relationship with my sister;
That bitch is fucking dead to me!!!!
It is my fervent hope that she contracts a slow moving & extremely painful fatal disease, and I hope she dies screaming!
-The Greeter
"Better luck next time!" -Linda" That was the 4 word message on the card attached to the flowers she sent to my mom's funeral.
Charlie and our stepdad saw the card and got rid of it before I could see it (for reasons that should be obvious). He let it slip this morning as we talked on the phone.
I am truly sick with anger!!!!!!
Obviously to say my relationship with my sister is estranged is a profound understatement!
At least now I can cleanly cut through any & all questions about my relationship with my sister;
That bitch is fucking dead to me!!!!
It is my fervent hope that she contracts a slow moving & extremely painful fatal disease, and I hope she dies screaming!
-The Greeter
Friday, February 22, 2008
Happy Birthday Dad 2/22/42-10/17/94
My dad would be 66 years old today, if he'd lived.
He died of a heart attack on the toilet, Elvis style (without the dope), now don't hate, if he were her he'd be pissed he didn't think of it himself LOL!
Dad was in the Air Force, did 2-1/2 tours in Vietnam, his 3rd tour cut short after his base was attacked. He came home with a near fatal chest wound and shrapnel he carried til the day he died.
He spent 23 years in the Air Force, then went to work for the U.S. Post Office, where he worked for 13 years, he died in the traces, as they say.
There were 40 postal vehicles in his funeral procession, more than 80 vehicles total!
Dad was a talented and funny guy, who could and did create art from anything.
Whether he used pencil, pen & ink, he'd use any kind of paint on any surface, later in life he made garden gnomes from walnut shells and wood glue in molds he designed and built himself, then hand painting and selling them.
The house #s were painted into a mural on a 2 ft wide piece of flagstone on the front porch.
He'd go into the desert with his old truck and haul a Saghuaro skeleton home, when he was finished he'd have a couple of dozen or more walking sticks and hiking staffs, varnished with rawhide straps that featured beads and feathers, he'd sell them for $20 apiece. I have a 6ft walking staff , I wouldn't even think of actually using it, but I'd beat you death if you tried to take it.
He was crazy (that cool, funny crazy, not fucked up crazy like me), he loved a good joke.
He once combined his love of a good joke and his love of walnuts to pull his epic gag, something he did for almost a year, I just think he got tired of it, I doubt he got caught.
He'd carefully shell his walnuts, making sure they opened on the halfline and eat the nuts, then he'd insert little notes into the shells and glue them back together and the next time they went grocery shopping, he mix them into the walnuts in the store, a dozen or so at a time.
The notes were typewritten, and ranged from silly little notes to prize notifications.
Some examples ;
'Not what you expected?'
'It seems that someone stole your nuts.'
'Help! I'm being held prisoner in a Chinese Walnut factory!'
And my favorite;
'Congratulations! See the Mgr. to claim your free 27" color tv!' ( or stereo, VCR, CD player, etc.)(Remember this was like '87-'88, a 27" color set was pretty much cutting edge).
Now, realisticly we didn't think anyone took the notes seriously, but I know at least one person DID throw a fit when she was denied her free television, I know because I was there! Sent to the store by my mom, I saw a big commotion near the manager's station, so I asked the cashier.
"Something about a t.v. and a note in a walnut" she'd answered laughing.
My dad liked to piss himself laughing! Man he looked like he'd won the lottery!
I wish I'd paid more attention, that I'd tried harder to see the world as he saw it, I'd likely be much better off.
I have stories about dad, but my favorite involves my then 15 yer old brother getting arrested on suspicion of auto theft and driving without a license. the Police released him to my folks.
Charlie had been in a bar with an older cousin and some friends, everyone was drunk but him.
The owner of the car tossed the keys to Charlie and told him to run his buddy home.
Being just barely 15, Charlie jumped at the chance to drive.
Abit later he got pulled over after slow rolling a stop sign and arrested for driving without a license and suspicion of grand theft auto.
The next morning (a Saturday) dad was helping me work on a car I had for sale when a stranger pulled into our driveway.
"We need to talk."
My dad just stood there wiping his hands.
"Well talk then."
"Well, my daughter ran away last night with your son Charlie, and I wanna know what you're gonna do about it!"
"I ain't gonna do shit about it. cause she didn't go anywhere with Charlie."
"What, but-"
Listen partner, I'm sorry for your trouble, but Iknow whoever she run off with, it wasn't my boy Charlie, cause he was in jail last night."
With that he returned to the tune-up he'd been working on, as the stranger left he looked at me and smiled.
"That was damn near worth all the trouble that boy caused last night."
The next morning he and I were working in the yard, when the guy that owned the car Charlie'd been arrested in pulled up . He walked straight to my dad and demanded the money to get his car out of impound, my old man grabbed up a spade and chased him back to his car, without saying a word!
My dad had a dark side too, unfortunatly I see a lot of it in me, but I'd rather not talk about it right now, it's his birthday after all.
We'll talk soon,
-The Greeter
He died of a heart attack on the toilet, Elvis style (without the dope), now don't hate, if he were her he'd be pissed he didn't think of it himself LOL!
Dad was in the Air Force, did 2-1/2 tours in Vietnam, his 3rd tour cut short after his base was attacked. He came home with a near fatal chest wound and shrapnel he carried til the day he died.
He spent 23 years in the Air Force, then went to work for the U.S. Post Office, where he worked for 13 years, he died in the traces, as they say.
There were 40 postal vehicles in his funeral procession, more than 80 vehicles total!
Dad was a talented and funny guy, who could and did create art from anything.
Whether he used pencil, pen & ink, he'd use any kind of paint on any surface, later in life he made garden gnomes from walnut shells and wood glue in molds he designed and built himself, then hand painting and selling them.
The house #s were painted into a mural on a 2 ft wide piece of flagstone on the front porch.
He'd go into the desert with his old truck and haul a Saghuaro skeleton home, when he was finished he'd have a couple of dozen or more walking sticks and hiking staffs, varnished with rawhide straps that featured beads and feathers, he'd sell them for $20 apiece. I have a 6ft walking staff , I wouldn't even think of actually using it, but I'd beat you death if you tried to take it.
He was crazy (that cool, funny crazy, not fucked up crazy like me), he loved a good joke.
He once combined his love of a good joke and his love of walnuts to pull his epic gag, something he did for almost a year, I just think he got tired of it, I doubt he got caught.
He'd carefully shell his walnuts, making sure they opened on the halfline and eat the nuts, then he'd insert little notes into the shells and glue them back together and the next time they went grocery shopping, he mix them into the walnuts in the store, a dozen or so at a time.
The notes were typewritten, and ranged from silly little notes to prize notifications.
Some examples ;
'Not what you expected?'
'It seems that someone stole your nuts.'
'Help! I'm being held prisoner in a Chinese Walnut factory!'
And my favorite;
'Congratulations! See the Mgr. to claim your free 27" color tv!' ( or stereo, VCR, CD player, etc.)(Remember this was like '87-'88, a 27" color set was pretty much cutting edge).
Now, realisticly we didn't think anyone took the notes seriously, but I know at least one person DID throw a fit when she was denied her free television, I know because I was there! Sent to the store by my mom, I saw a big commotion near the manager's station, so I asked the cashier.
"Something about a t.v. and a note in a walnut" she'd answered laughing.
My dad liked to piss himself laughing! Man he looked like he'd won the lottery!
I wish I'd paid more attention, that I'd tried harder to see the world as he saw it, I'd likely be much better off.
I have stories about dad, but my favorite involves my then 15 yer old brother getting arrested on suspicion of auto theft and driving without a license. the Police released him to my folks.
Charlie had been in a bar with an older cousin and some friends, everyone was drunk but him.
The owner of the car tossed the keys to Charlie and told him to run his buddy home.
Being just barely 15, Charlie jumped at the chance to drive.
Abit later he got pulled over after slow rolling a stop sign and arrested for driving without a license and suspicion of grand theft auto.
The next morning (a Saturday) dad was helping me work on a car I had for sale when a stranger pulled into our driveway.
"We need to talk."
My dad just stood there wiping his hands.
"Well talk then."
"Well, my daughter ran away last night with your son Charlie, and I wanna know what you're gonna do about it!"
"I ain't gonna do shit about it. cause she didn't go anywhere with Charlie."
"What, but-"
Listen partner, I'm sorry for your trouble, but Iknow whoever she run off with, it wasn't my boy Charlie, cause he was in jail last night."
With that he returned to the tune-up he'd been working on, as the stranger left he looked at me and smiled.
"That was damn near worth all the trouble that boy caused last night."
The next morning he and I were working in the yard, when the guy that owned the car Charlie'd been arrested in pulled up . He walked straight to my dad and demanded the money to get his car out of impound, my old man grabbed up a spade and chased him back to his car, without saying a word!
My dad had a dark side too, unfortunatly I see a lot of it in me, but I'd rather not talk about it right now, it's his birthday after all.
We'll talk soon,
-The Greeter
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
A Pleasent surprise! Compassion where you'd least expect it!
You may know I've had some massive cash flow issues, I'd decided to put my Wal*Mart badge on ebay, then got a little wierded out, and pulled the auction after someone posted a link over at Fucked Forum.
I was talked into re-listing it and posting the new link, within hours the .99 staring bid had been run up to $70.00, as of this morning it was at $76.01! This due to the generousity of people that scared me! :lol:
I decided to post the link here in case you want to have a look.
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=220204090287&ssPageName=ADME:L:LCA:US:1123
Had to put in a new ebay link, stupid fucking ebay!!!!!
-The Greeter
I was talked into re-listing it and posting the new link, within hours the .99 staring bid had been run up to $70.00, as of this morning it was at $76.01! This due to the generousity of people that scared me! :lol:
I decided to post the link here in case you want to have a look.
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=220204090287&ssPageName=ADME:L:LCA:US:1123
Had to put in a new ebay link, stupid fucking ebay!!!!!
-The Greeter
I've begun the book!
Hi all!!
I've begun the framework for the book, I will soon have to decide how to string the stories together.
I have a few ideas, but the one I like tells the stories anectdotally(sp?), and not necassarily in order.
It starts with a run down schmuck (that's me) that begins telling his story on an internet bbs in an attempt to maintain his ever more tenuous grip on his sanity, while he struggles with the outside world and battles his evolving mental illness that unbeknowst to him has shaped the events of the last 5 years in a frightening real way.
It's possible for me to modify this idea so that the protaganist is talking on the phone, to a stranger in a bar, a therapist, etc., but I like the bbs idea, especially since the inspiration came from a thread I started on Fucked Forum that inspired this blog and has become the highest posted and 2nd most viewed thread in that forums history.
I really dig the idea that this idea pays homage to the posters (good and bad) and the forum, that showed me that I may be capable of this.
The main character is "Gus Poe", which will also be my pen name (as in not my real name!).
I'm not 100% sure of myself here, and I'd still rather tell (or write) the stories individually and have someone else tie them together in a cohesive way, but I think I can do it.
I believe I can write the stories, then tie them all together, that's my plan anyway.
What do I hope to gain?
Why I'm glad you asked.
I 'm not looking to get rich (though I'm certainly not opposed to bags and bags of cash money), but I've got no problem trying to profit from my failures. If it does well, I have some fiction ideas that I think would kick ass.
All I really want is to make enough money that I can stop worrying you know, buy a house, a new truck, live comfortably without worrying about the bills and such.
I'd also like to repay my wife for the bullshit she's put up with from me over the years.
I've not been the best husband over the years, but you'd never know by the fierce loyalty my wife shows.
If you step to me, you'd better pray my wife's not around, I'll do my best to defend myself, but my wife is a little mexican Terminator! To stop her, you'll have have to kill her! And cut her up!! And burn the pieces!! even then, your safety is not assured!
Hey if y'all have ideas I wanna hear 'em, plotlines, tie ins, titles, let me hear 'em.
LMK
We'll talk again,
-The Greeter
I've begun the framework for the book, I will soon have to decide how to string the stories together.
I have a few ideas, but the one I like tells the stories anectdotally(sp?), and not necassarily in order.
It starts with a run down schmuck (that's me) that begins telling his story on an internet bbs in an attempt to maintain his ever more tenuous grip on his sanity, while he struggles with the outside world and battles his evolving mental illness that unbeknowst to him has shaped the events of the last 5 years in a frightening real way.
It's possible for me to modify this idea so that the protaganist is talking on the phone, to a stranger in a bar, a therapist, etc., but I like the bbs idea, especially since the inspiration came from a thread I started on Fucked Forum that inspired this blog and has become the highest posted and 2nd most viewed thread in that forums history.
I really dig the idea that this idea pays homage to the posters (good and bad) and the forum, that showed me that I may be capable of this.
The main character is "Gus Poe", which will also be my pen name (as in not my real name!).
I'm not 100% sure of myself here, and I'd still rather tell (or write) the stories individually and have someone else tie them together in a cohesive way, but I think I can do it.
I believe I can write the stories, then tie them all together, that's my plan anyway.
What do I hope to gain?
Why I'm glad you asked.
I 'm not looking to get rich (though I'm certainly not opposed to bags and bags of cash money), but I've got no problem trying to profit from my failures. If it does well, I have some fiction ideas that I think would kick ass.
All I really want is to make enough money that I can stop worrying you know, buy a house, a new truck, live comfortably without worrying about the bills and such.
I'd also like to repay my wife for the bullshit she's put up with from me over the years.
I've not been the best husband over the years, but you'd never know by the fierce loyalty my wife shows.
If you step to me, you'd better pray my wife's not around, I'll do my best to defend myself, but my wife is a little mexican Terminator! To stop her, you'll have have to kill her! And cut her up!! And burn the pieces!! even then, your safety is not assured!
Hey if y'all have ideas I wanna hear 'em, plotlines, tie ins, titles, let me hear 'em.
LMK
We'll talk again,
-The Greeter
Friday, February 15, 2008
My psychiatrist prescribed me Chantix! I think he's trying to kill me!!!!!
30 days after being prescribed Tegretol, my Psychiatrist tells me that it's effect are inhibited by Nicotene. This after I had a couple of particularly angry outbursts in the past week.
Why in the fuck would he prescribe this drug to a smoker without telling me that!
Plus Tegretol's warning sheets also don't warn smoker's of this potential drug interaction.
So the doc prescribes me Chantix, never mind that I haven't been able to pay my basic bills on time since November, or that I can barely pay the $4 fee at Wal*Mart .
Chantix runs $135 a month, to pay for it I'd needto quit cold turkey for a month, then blow off my water bill.
The best I've done so far quitting on my own is 6 days, 6 days of pure hell after which someone bought me cigarettes to chill me out.
Then I come home and research Chantix, only to find out that people with no history of suicidal or psychotic behavior were killing themselves, hurting others, and generally exhibitting behaviors that resemble what I'm already experiencing!
If 'normal' people exhibit that kind of behaviour, I'm scared stupid of how I might react to it!
I can see it now, I completely lose it after the mailman puts the mail in face down. Outraged I begin beating an old lady with her little sweater clad yippie dog, when the first officer responds I knock him out by head-butting him. Taking his gun and squad car, I drive around town pulling over white cars and shooting off the driver's right thumb until I run out of ammo! Finally, hours later, they find me in the bathroom at Wal*Mart, picking peanuts out of other people's shit!
And with all that risk, nearly 80% of people in the trial were smoking again within the year
There's just no fucking way I'm gonna take that shit, not because I can't afford it (though that is an issue), but because I don't have any desire to be more fucking nutty than I already am.
I know I should quit smoking, everyone should (hey I'm not judging, I'm up near 2 packs a day), but I'm really dubious about quitting while I'm so completely fucking stressed out.
I quit for about a week in August, after a week my brother mailed me 2 cartons of Camel Wides to preserve my wife's sanity!
I had a friend in Phoenix, when I met him he'd quit heroin 10 years earlier, and spent most ofthose ten years trying to quit cigarettes before he finally pulled it off.
He told me once that kicking heroin was like a bad headache compared to quitting tobacco.
My therapist says she quit smoking after 7 years, so she knows it can be done.
I can respect that, I really do respect anyone who can quit.
But there's a big difference!
It's one thing to quit after planning it out, making sure you're ready etc., It's quite another to try and quit while you're dodging bullets, runaway trucks, and falling rocks (or lawnmowers)! Trying to quit during that kind of stress is doomed to failure!
Like I said, I know I need to quit, but I see no good coming from me trying to quit under these conditions, once I come together a little better, then I'll make a real effort to quit. really.
I also met with te supportive employment co-ordinater again, and while I STILL don't know exactly what this guy does, but I at least know that he can't do anything to help me since I've already been in touch with the people he would've refered me to.
It seems like this guy might be a liasion between several agencies, but I believe I've circumvented this guy already.
If I was able to get around this guy without even trying, hell without even knowing, then most anyone could.
Just another example of state and federal government agencies failure to coomunicate, resulting in 4 people doing the job of 2.
Your tax dollars at work!
Before I sign off, I want to thank everyone for there comments, they are appreciated.
We'll talk soon
-The Greeter
Why in the fuck would he prescribe this drug to a smoker without telling me that!
Plus Tegretol's warning sheets also don't warn smoker's of this potential drug interaction.
So the doc prescribes me Chantix, never mind that I haven't been able to pay my basic bills on time since November, or that I can barely pay the $4 fee at Wal*Mart .
Chantix runs $135 a month, to pay for it I'd needto quit cold turkey for a month, then blow off my water bill.
The best I've done so far quitting on my own is 6 days, 6 days of pure hell after which someone bought me cigarettes to chill me out.
Then I come home and research Chantix, only to find out that people with no history of suicidal or psychotic behavior were killing themselves, hurting others, and generally exhibitting behaviors that resemble what I'm already experiencing!
If 'normal' people exhibit that kind of behaviour, I'm scared stupid of how I might react to it!
I can see it now, I completely lose it after the mailman puts the mail in face down. Outraged I begin beating an old lady with her little sweater clad yippie dog, when the first officer responds I knock him out by head-butting him. Taking his gun and squad car, I drive around town pulling over white cars and shooting off the driver's right thumb until I run out of ammo! Finally, hours later, they find me in the bathroom at Wal*Mart, picking peanuts out of other people's shit!
And with all that risk, nearly 80% of people in the trial were smoking again within the year
There's just no fucking way I'm gonna take that shit, not because I can't afford it (though that is an issue), but because I don't have any desire to be more fucking nutty than I already am.
I know I should quit smoking, everyone should (hey I'm not judging, I'm up near 2 packs a day), but I'm really dubious about quitting while I'm so completely fucking stressed out.
I quit for about a week in August, after a week my brother mailed me 2 cartons of Camel Wides to preserve my wife's sanity!
I had a friend in Phoenix, when I met him he'd quit heroin 10 years earlier, and spent most ofthose ten years trying to quit cigarettes before he finally pulled it off.
He told me once that kicking heroin was like a bad headache compared to quitting tobacco.
My therapist says she quit smoking after 7 years, so she knows it can be done.
I can respect that, I really do respect anyone who can quit.
But there's a big difference!
It's one thing to quit after planning it out, making sure you're ready etc., It's quite another to try and quit while you're dodging bullets, runaway trucks, and falling rocks (or lawnmowers)! Trying to quit during that kind of stress is doomed to failure!
Like I said, I know I need to quit, but I see no good coming from me trying to quit under these conditions, once I come together a little better, then I'll make a real effort to quit. really.
I also met with te supportive employment co-ordinater again, and while I STILL don't know exactly what this guy does, but I at least know that he can't do anything to help me since I've already been in touch with the people he would've refered me to.
It seems like this guy might be a liasion between several agencies, but I believe I've circumvented this guy already.
If I was able to get around this guy without even trying, hell without even knowing, then most anyone could.
Just another example of state and federal government agencies failure to coomunicate, resulting in 4 people doing the job of 2.
Your tax dollars at work!
Before I sign off, I want to thank everyone for there comments, they are appreciated.
We'll talk soon
-The Greeter
Monday, February 11, 2008
On Case Management and Supported Employment! Would someone just kill me!!!!!
Okay here is something I've noticed (If anyone can explain this to me, have at it), I focus on my writing much better when I'm very angry or depressed. How the fuck can this be?
I've known for a long time that my mental illness has been growing progressively worse,basicly since I lost a job in March 2004 that gave me access to affordable health insurance, providing treatment that let me keep my shit together, maintained my meds and therapy, and have as normal a life as I've ever had (that ain't saying much).
Losing that job caused me to shift my priorities, our income simply couldn't support survival and the treatment I needed, so I stayed on my meds until I ran out then abandoned treatment altogether in favor of survival.
It occurs to me now that the wheels didn't come off all at once, things began to happen and while I was honestly a victim of circumstance in some situations, my actions and reactions were tainted, colored by my inability to think things out like a normally functioning person would.
From 2004 to today, my problems have complicated my thought process, and I honestly can't say that I've made many (or any) good decisions since.
I've lost my home, my business, and now my dignity and self respect.
I live hand to mouth, supported by my wife and what I can earn selling off a toy collection I spent a lifetime building. I'm at the lowest point of my life so far, but things could readily get worse, her hours are unsteady and I'm running out of valuables to sell, hopefully disability will come through before I have to sell my wife's car, the car I'm driving is still registered out of state, in my mother's name because her will is in probate.
Speaking of my mother's will, it's still in probate, the executor is my stepdad,who's not in any great hurry to sell the house since he'd then have to move back into his place, little better than a shack. Given the current market it could be a while before her house sell once it hits the market, its a beautiful house a little south of Tulsa, I'm due a third of the proceeds and the 02 Taurus I'm driving, it could easily be a year or more. Between the inheritence tax and what I owe in back taxes, I'll be damn fortunate to see anything at all.
Anyway that's not what this post is about (sorry about that), tonight I bitch about trying to adjust to the way my treatment is unfolding.
Case Manager;
I've been having trouble remembering things, it's gotten increasingly worse, I'm having so much trouble remembering to take my medication that last week they assigned me a case manager.
OH FUCKING JOY!!!!!!!!!
Here's a lady whose whole fucking job is to travel around the county reminding people to take thier medication. I'm sure that she does other things, but the point I make here is that my function level has dropped to the point that I have a person coming to my house to insure that my medication is being taken properly! This is fucking embarrassing!
I acknowledge my general fuckedupedness (I'm pretty sure I made that word up, kinda proud of it too, you can use it if you want), but having someone come around to make sure I take my meds, man that's too much! Here's the problem, if she didn't come around, there's a 50/50 chance I'd either miss or be significantly late taking my meds. It makes me pretty sad when I think about it.
It pains me that I can't handle something so simple, makes me feel stupid and useless.
Supported employment;
So today I had to meet with a supported employment coordinater, I didn't know exactly what a supported employment coordinater was when I got there, and you know what? I don't know anymore now than I did before!
Actually that's not true, when I got home I did a Google, and found some info on the Dept. of Labor website.
WELL FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!!!!!!!!!!!
Basicly they'll help me find some kind of shit job, then hang out, holding my hand so I don't kill anyone or fuck anything up!
You must understand that in 98/99, and again from Dec 01 to March of 04, I took care of people that required these services, does this mean that if something should happen to my wife I'll wind up in a group home, being told when & what I can eat, when to go to bed, what to wear etc.
I swear to fucking God, I will kill myself first. There is just no way I'll be able to deal with that, I wont allow myself to be placed in my brother's custody either.
I'm just having trouble adjusting to all of this, I know the key is not to focus on the details too much, but to try to stand back and look at the big picture, but Goddamn it, just Fuck, this sucks!
I know this ain't been that good a read, but I just need to vent.
Thanks for listening, I'll try to do better next time.
One last thing, one of my favorite actors passed away last night.
Roy Scheider, R.I.P.
We'll talk soon.
-The Greeter
I've known for a long time that my mental illness has been growing progressively worse,basicly since I lost a job in March 2004 that gave me access to affordable health insurance, providing treatment that let me keep my shit together, maintained my meds and therapy, and have as normal a life as I've ever had (that ain't saying much).
Losing that job caused me to shift my priorities, our income simply couldn't support survival and the treatment I needed, so I stayed on my meds until I ran out then abandoned treatment altogether in favor of survival.
It occurs to me now that the wheels didn't come off all at once, things began to happen and while I was honestly a victim of circumstance in some situations, my actions and reactions were tainted, colored by my inability to think things out like a normally functioning person would.
From 2004 to today, my problems have complicated my thought process, and I honestly can't say that I've made many (or any) good decisions since.
I've lost my home, my business, and now my dignity and self respect.
I live hand to mouth, supported by my wife and what I can earn selling off a toy collection I spent a lifetime building. I'm at the lowest point of my life so far, but things could readily get worse, her hours are unsteady and I'm running out of valuables to sell, hopefully disability will come through before I have to sell my wife's car, the car I'm driving is still registered out of state, in my mother's name because her will is in probate.
Speaking of my mother's will, it's still in probate, the executor is my stepdad,who's not in any great hurry to sell the house since he'd then have to move back into his place, little better than a shack. Given the current market it could be a while before her house sell once it hits the market, its a beautiful house a little south of Tulsa, I'm due a third of the proceeds and the 02 Taurus I'm driving, it could easily be a year or more. Between the inheritence tax and what I owe in back taxes, I'll be damn fortunate to see anything at all.
Anyway that's not what this post is about (sorry about that), tonight I bitch about trying to adjust to the way my treatment is unfolding.
Case Manager;
I've been having trouble remembering things, it's gotten increasingly worse, I'm having so much trouble remembering to take my medication that last week they assigned me a case manager.
OH FUCKING JOY!!!!!!!!!
Here's a lady whose whole fucking job is to travel around the county reminding people to take thier medication. I'm sure that she does other things, but the point I make here is that my function level has dropped to the point that I have a person coming to my house to insure that my medication is being taken properly! This is fucking embarrassing!
I acknowledge my general fuckedupedness (I'm pretty sure I made that word up, kinda proud of it too, you can use it if you want), but having someone come around to make sure I take my meds, man that's too much! Here's the problem, if she didn't come around, there's a 50/50 chance I'd either miss or be significantly late taking my meds. It makes me pretty sad when I think about it.
It pains me that I can't handle something so simple, makes me feel stupid and useless.
Supported employment;
So today I had to meet with a supported employment coordinater, I didn't know exactly what a supported employment coordinater was when I got there, and you know what? I don't know anymore now than I did before!
Actually that's not true, when I got home I did a Google, and found some info on the Dept. of Labor website.
WELL FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!!!!!!!!!!!
Basicly they'll help me find some kind of shit job, then hang out, holding my hand so I don't kill anyone or fuck anything up!
You must understand that in 98/99, and again from Dec 01 to March of 04, I took care of people that required these services, does this mean that if something should happen to my wife I'll wind up in a group home, being told when & what I can eat, when to go to bed, what to wear etc.
I swear to fucking God, I will kill myself first. There is just no way I'll be able to deal with that, I wont allow myself to be placed in my brother's custody either.
I'm just having trouble adjusting to all of this, I know the key is not to focus on the details too much, but to try to stand back and look at the big picture, but Goddamn it, just Fuck, this sucks!
I know this ain't been that good a read, but I just need to vent.
Thanks for listening, I'll try to do better next time.
One last thing, one of my favorite actors passed away last night.
Roy Scheider, R.I.P.
We'll talk soon.
-The Greeter
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Well, Today just completely sucked!!!!!!!!
Today sucked the rigid cock of Satan, or Santa, sometimes I get confused.
I had to submit myself to a Phsychiatric evaluation for Disability, it's hard having to
open all the old wounds at once.
Therapy is bad enough, you sit with this almost stranger, while he/she steers the conversation where they want it until they get you to admit how fucked up you are.
But they open one wound at a time, distracting you with something shiny or jingly.
A psych. eval. is like being dropped into a steel cage with a rabid Grizzly, they're going for the kill, they just wanna rip you open, to make you bleed, because they don't have time to fuck around! They've got like an hour to redline your stress level and see how you react! They want answers and they don't have time for dinner and dancing, so with little foreplay, they rip open the wounds and shove it in!
How'd it make you feel when you were raped? Well, I was like 11 or 12 years old, they were bigger than me, there were 4 of them! How the fuck do you think I felt, ya stupid FUCK!!!!
How'd you react to surviving your suicide attempts? Well, I felt like every time I failed it was proof that I was truly good for nothing ! That I was completely useless!! I mean, do you know who your fuckin' talking to? I'm the guy who fucked up a job as a Wal*Mart greeter!!!!!!!!!! My record speaks for itself!!!!!
How was your relationship with your mom? Well besides all the times she went ballistic over utterly ridiculous shit! Like the time I completely ignored the laws of physics and dented a brass doorknob with a plastic hairbrush! You'd think she'd be proud that I'd made such a dramatic scientific leap? Fuck no!! She beat me all ver the house, changing weapons as she broke them!!!
How about the time she fractured her arm beating my brother over a 'D' on his report card!!
How about the fact that she waited til I'd been under psychiatric care for 15 years before she admitted that she'd been institutionalized, she'd denied anyone in the family suffered from mental illness of any kind!
It fuckin' sucked, what do you think?
It's like, well fuck, it's brutal! And if this wasn't enough, I went in knowing that this fucker would be the guy that pulled the trigger on me! His report will determine whether I recieve disability or not, whether I'll have access to the programs that'll let me learn a trade, get the medication and counseling I need. I hate to think of the alternative.
So I killed him. Just kidding, he'll live, I wonder if I will.
Until next time.
-The Greeter
I had to submit myself to a Phsychiatric evaluation for Disability, it's hard having to
open all the old wounds at once.
Therapy is bad enough, you sit with this almost stranger, while he/she steers the conversation where they want it until they get you to admit how fucked up you are.
But they open one wound at a time, distracting you with something shiny or jingly.
A psych. eval. is like being dropped into a steel cage with a rabid Grizzly, they're going for the kill, they just wanna rip you open, to make you bleed, because they don't have time to fuck around! They've got like an hour to redline your stress level and see how you react! They want answers and they don't have time for dinner and dancing, so with little foreplay, they rip open the wounds and shove it in!
How'd it make you feel when you were raped? Well, I was like 11 or 12 years old, they were bigger than me, there were 4 of them! How the fuck do you think I felt, ya stupid FUCK!!!!
How'd you react to surviving your suicide attempts? Well, I felt like every time I failed it was proof that I was truly good for nothing ! That I was completely useless!! I mean, do you know who your fuckin' talking to? I'm the guy who fucked up a job as a Wal*Mart greeter!!!!!!!!!! My record speaks for itself!!!!!
How was your relationship with your mom? Well besides all the times she went ballistic over utterly ridiculous shit! Like the time I completely ignored the laws of physics and dented a brass doorknob with a plastic hairbrush! You'd think she'd be proud that I'd made such a dramatic scientific leap? Fuck no!! She beat me all ver the house, changing weapons as she broke them!!!
How about the time she fractured her arm beating my brother over a 'D' on his report card!!
How about the fact that she waited til I'd been under psychiatric care for 15 years before she admitted that she'd been institutionalized, she'd denied anyone in the family suffered from mental illness of any kind!
It fuckin' sucked, what do you think?
It's like, well fuck, it's brutal! And if this wasn't enough, I went in knowing that this fucker would be the guy that pulled the trigger on me! His report will determine whether I recieve disability or not, whether I'll have access to the programs that'll let me learn a trade, get the medication and counseling I need. I hate to think of the alternative.
So I killed him. Just kidding, he'll live, I wonder if I will.
Until next time.
-The Greeter
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