another year later…

Another year gone by today…

I stopped celebrating birthdays years ago. My ex-wife liked to heap particularly nasty abuse on me on that day in particular.

This year is worse than usual. I am now homeless, broke and getting broker, sick and getting sicker and feeling completely alone in the town where I grew up.

The particularly ironic part is I just received a medal from our Senate for my contributions to the culture of our country and my efforts to advocate for better mental health care. If my efforts were so valued, why am I waiting for an intake interview?

It’s been clear to the three therapists I’ve seen that I am suffering from trauma-related illness, and that it has destroyed my life. Yet, if I say anything but I’m about to kill myself, no one in this province does anything either.

I feel a real mix of emotions regarding my country. Mostly empty kudos and awards just don’t seem to be worth anything when the same country that awards them ignores the basic NEEDS of its citizens…

Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate the efforts of the senator who put my name forward, I appreciate the support of all those who came to my shows, bought my CDs. When you dedicate your life to something and, in your twilight years, almost all of the people you worked with or for, your family and friends, turn their backs on you, it destroys what little self-esteem you’ve managed to hang on to.

Really leaves one wondering if there is any place in the world for one…

So I sit here, on a cot in a storage room. Most of my belongings are in a storage unit outside of town. I spend my days trying to find a place to live that I can afford now that the dr.’s have ‘retired’ me. With the right diagnoses and treatment I probably could work for another decade…but they’d rather replace me with a Millenial and let me live the rest of my life in abject poverty. O Canada, indeed…

…why do I have to lose everything?…

Been a while…things’ve never been so bad. I’m barely holding on and became aware of that fact for the most ironic of reasons…

A good friend came to visit me last week. When she arrived I considered feigning physical illness and refraining from seeing her. That’s how much I avoid people.

I am now back ‘home’. I use the term loosely as it is not home anymore. In fact I have no home, no friends, no hope…

Just planning my exit now…

…the twilight of my life, pt. 2…

It’s been a month since I was able to post. My health has taken a serious downturn. I am now facing packing and cleaning my apartment, moving 1500 miles to my island home and trying to find the money to pay for it. My landlady is harassing me on a daily basis. My anxiety levels have never been higher…

The trip was originally booked to go back for my son’s wedding, but the latest news from the (questionable) ‘medical professionals’ is not good. After 12 years of denying me the tests that would monitor my Frontotemporal lobar degeneration they have now (without the requisite PET scan or MRI) suggested that I may be in the advanced stages. Having waited 21 months they now inform me I would have to wait a minimum of 11 more months for test…then with no compassion whatsoever, the neurologist coldly informed me “but you may very well be severely disabled by that time”.

I have no support system here in my adopted home. I have been ostracized by my former friends due to my ex’s efforts (she has Borderline Personality Disorder and won’t go for treatment, the government and it’s supporting bureaucracy are unresponsive to requests for support, I have been denied social assistance and have little hope of a disability pension. My landlady is NPD and harassing me on a daily basis. So, I return to the poorest region of our nation to live out the remainder of my miserable existence in poverty and regret.

I hope I get to post again…

…why?…

What is a life? Is it a thing that exists outside of us or is it a part of us, just waiting to be tapped?

My life has been a series of a few perfect moments, joined together by pain, indecision, fatigue and disappointment. Perhaps most lives are like that…

Now, I am simply tired. No one calls, no one needs me. There is no joy in this miserable existence. Again, I look forward to the oblivion of death.

Critical point…

I start with a new therapist this week. She claims to treat trauma related diseases. I understand from her website that her main therapeutic approaches are ACT therapy and EMDR. I am hoping this will help me get past these symptoms of C-PTSD.

Of course, money is always a problem. I tried selling digital copies of my latest CD, in order to get the money to press CDs, play shows that would cause me great pain, all to carry my own water on the price of therapy. No dice.

Maybe I’ll have to try the GoFundMe route…I have to do something. I spend most of my days fighting bad thoughts (fellow sufferers, you know what I mean ๐Ÿ˜ฆ )

Check in again when I am able…

…another weekend…

Not in this world this weekend. Let me explain.

When anxiety levels get high, some of us dissociate. That’s me, all over. The longer I have multiple serious stressors in my life, the more frequent and severe the dissociation becomes. It isn’t getting any better.

Yesterday I had my intake appointment at the ‘last chance’ free therapy clinic. The director was very nice, welcoming and not at all intimidating. All very nice, but they are staffed social work interns, not psychology students. There’s no CBT, no DBT, no EMDR, none of the psychotherapeutic tools used to treat C-PTSD.

I came out of the intake meeting resolving to try, but despondent about never being told about this free clinic after ten years of searching for resources and that this well-meaning but ultimately, I suspect, ineffectual group. Blindly ran the errands that were necessary (don’t like to be out of my flat). Since then been managing to takes my meds and my insulin but all as if someone else were doing it and I was watching.

Not being able to talk to anyone makes it ten times worse…

AnimatedChaosphere