overwhelmed

It's the end of a terrible day.  Running around in an unhideable funk wishing death on the world and literally ramming through crowds rudely and hollering "no you aren't" at people who use the word "sorry." 

I couldn't even make it till group drop in started.  One guy there couldn't stand me and shut me out real fast and I just knew these people were going to tell me I didn't belong there, I needed something or someone else, good luck with that.

People in British Columbia seem as a whole to be the sort to wave at a drowning man and cheerily wish him a good swim, while full well knowing he's drowning.

Well I went around to a few reception desks getting the same damn overwheling piles of uncurated cold call numbers and got home exhausted.  Called 211 because i was still too freaked out to sit still and I thought it was the crisis line.  Well it was a help line, and  really just just a place to compile a list of numberrs to call.  But she did put up with me dumping on her which helped me ramp down a lot. She also gave me a much more targeted list to focus on of exactly the only people who might help. 

For awhile today I was thinking I should indeed do a terrorist campaign and target all these BS charities but in retrospect I really haven't got that kind of resources.  I'm more of a hazard creator.

Do you know, I still have the camo morph suit.  the one that lets you stand against a hedge and vanish from all but close scrutiny. It certainly obscures the biometrics. 

Well anyway, I feel so tired I can't picture myself doing anything but piping exhaust into the bus and dying.  Yet another thing I run through my head. 

See, if I want to do a job, say paint a room, I can run myself through it and visualize probability outcomes for timeframe, tools needed, materials used, and steps to take.  I can run various scenarious imaginining it through in my head, depending on my familiarity with the subject.

Now when doing this for suicide or murder, which ever, I encounter the emotional trauma over and over, and it balks me from properly completing the simulation.  So I am left with a foggy outcome that takes away my confidence in the operation. 

People think I am a fool, often, for the level of confidence I sometimes bring to a situation. But I have run it in my head as simulations, dozens of times, even if I have only had a day to think about it.  

And at that point, they accuse me of trying to look something and faking and essentially call BS on my mental gymnastics.

It's for these reasons I either hestitate or forge ahead, and for these reasons I cannot work through a list of random charities.  Oh well and of course telling people what I need means thinking about what I'm going through ad facing, means getting hella upset.

It often causes them to withdraw , makes me in a hurry to with draw, and leaves me incrementally more traumatized about seeking help. I've faced a thousand tiny stings of hostility lately just for being miserable.  Not swearing or throwing insults or threats, just sarcastic and grumpy and varriously panicked or furious. I have not made fast or loud gestures of any kind either. I have fought with a few obstacles, bulling through with angry shoulders instead of using my hands to reopen closing doors, or my mouth to ask someone to move. Frankly I couldn't have spoken, my jaw was locked shut. It's where I carry most of the tension.  I absolutely hate having to be out in public in that mood but how do I get anything done if I never get out of that mood because I can't get anything done?

It's a big part of why I need an advoate.  Someone who speaks the NT language of emotive feedback and slow advancement of narrative. I've learned about it intellectually but I absolutely cannot do it.  I mean, maybe I could do it for a written fictional conversation, but unless the script was followed I would not be able to do it live.

Oh, and to add yet another little je nes c'est quoi to the whole thing, my solar got 0 input today.  Indicating a problem in the system. Oh and my bladder has a problem.

I can't work out if it's an infection or so much tension in my body that I can't release it properly and it's backing up.  Either way, it scares me into worrying about my only kidney going down.  But there's no doctors so I can't do anything about it anyway.  Tylenol helps.  I just learned it also helps with mood.  But using it constantly will tax both my liver and my kidney so it has to be used to help me get out into the world for essential tasks as needed.

It's insane they would quicker give me mood altering drugs than lifesaving support, isn't it?  You know they would.  One person suggested the mental health association and I went off about how the industry does nothing for the actual problems, just drugs people senseless and leaves them suffering.  you know it's true.  Then, when they haven't got coverage for all those drugs, or the pain overwhelms the effect, these same people turn to more powerful stuff and get caught up in the fentanyl scam. They think they're getting good old morpheus but they are really getting his evil human invention twin, fentanyl.  Designed to finish the job of reducing the poverty population? 

I mean, charles dickens didn't invent that line he put in scrooge's mouth.  "If they're going to die, let them get on with it and decrease the surplus population."

The problem here is there is no such thing as surplus population.  

when you dehumanize me, you dehumanize yourself too.  Because I am literally your equal, in the eyes of all that's holy or sacred. Thus, what you do to me, you do to yourself.  The hindbrain knows the rules. You start to feel it, like it's in your bones.  The fear.  The knowlege that you aren't sacred anymore either. 

Nobody is surplus! 

Who are you to pick and choose what person gets a spot to blossom, and who will be ground into suffering concrete?  You aren't even there, you have never met those your attitude would damn. You know this guy. No, you met a guy. You never knew him.

You don't know what you don't know.

You see what you WANT to see.

you hear what you WANT to hear.

We all have our breaking point.  The point at which it's "you or me."  As long as we feel strong, or supported, we are generous.  We reach out and share.

When this fails, we reach out and grasp, like psychopaths.  Like how a drowing person will climb on your shoulders until you sink and drown too, because they've lost their humanity. 

It's when we fight for survival that this happens.  It's when we are treated inhumanely that we are forced to fight for our survival.  

You see the circle?  

Treat me like crap, it gives me the mental capacity to treat you like crap.

Now we are all being crappy to each other.

Remember the kindness experiments?  The pay it forwards? I do.  I usually do that sort of thing. Now I'm shoving through people who plug a throughway? I mean, it's not like my self image or what i look like to others has any value. Nobody cares.  If I can honestly take pleasure contemplating garroting cyclists bombing down off a bridge or through a forest path,  well, there goes my bodhisattva aspirations. It's like when I went from virtuous woman to divorcee and decided I ddin't need to think we were going to get married, in order to enjoy sex. I was already fallen. 

I still doubt I have the capacity to hurt another directly.  But I know now I have the capacity to cause harm indirectly, to random strangers getting hated symbolically, thinking somehow it makes a statement or supports a cause or changes anything but tho lives of a few people. 

That is not bodhisattva thinking.

Or if it is, it's a hell of a setback moment.

but I don't have any sense of faith these days. I can't even hear the trees through my panicking brain.

and body pain.

Everyone says to ask for help. is there any out there? Oh, I know there's plenty of vendors of help, but first, I lack any budget for that. Second, I seriously question the quality of help being offered at the low end.

Considering that this IS my talk therapy, and weed is still more affordable than food, and delays appetite, kills pain, numbs the brain, well, what is a damn pshrink supposed to do for me?

Now, I definitely have my up days, and my down days, but they are triggered by real events and concerns. When I feel like things are moving forward and there's hope, I cheer right up. All this is tiggered by losing the pwd application.

I was going to use that status to apply for housing, supportive care, relief of some kind, over the course of the winter, while having my medical needs covered.  Hell, I used to think I would also be able to pick up my after cancer care when I got out here but the health system mess is beyond hope. I don't know if they're even able to respond to cash victims in a timely manner. Or heart attack and stroke victims,  You know, the stuff where seconds matter and here people showing up at ER are waiting tens of minutes to get triaged and then, with horrific pain or  serious time sensitive issues, left to sit in hard plastic chairs overseen by security guards.  No comfort.  No softness.  No way to lay down or rest. Poeple collapsing repeatedly onto the floor to be propped back up by the hurting and sick people around them.  I can't ask to go to an ER rather than lay in pain and terror screaming alone.  I can't face all that anymore. Not since sitting with that indian woman being treated like shit because she wasn't standing tall and clear and speaking with a deep certain voice holding a feather. or something?  I fucking don't know. She was in serious pain. I diagnosed her with excess gas and recommended that stuff I know the name of but can't pull up.  I also suggested massage. I mean, i spoke at length with her about her symptoms and history both recent and lately.  You know, the stuff doctors used to ask. Well, I do have some healing learning in my head, you know, it's one reason I'm still here.  So I  was able to make these suggestions.  I was then overwhelmed by nauseous, barfing into the trash in front of everyone and blowing out my full bladder into a light leakage pad and all over my pants. 

and had to sit like that anothe 2 hours fighting more nausea, going to the bathroom to piss or barf or both.

Still waiting myself to be seen.

That was saskatoon but that was horrible.  I've one too many stories like that because I've had inadequate health support and keep getting screwed up and  having to see ER in the middle of the night.

Getting scolded for crying in pain during a serious kidney infection.  Being scolded for having a bladder infection and not knowing why.  I'll tell you why, asshole, because the surgeons nicked the piping and it has scar tissue on it. This causes backups and inflammation  when anything goes slightly off, in BOTH systems. 

Dammit. They tell ME these things but they don't write it down anywhere.  Oh, yeah, no need for an official record of my health!

Ok, back to listening to podcasts to forget about myself for awhile.  this shit's exhausting.

I wanna die,don't wanna lie, I've been a miner for a heart of gold, and I"m getting old. Nobody cares anymore. (mr beast has become a beast too)