I have to get this off of my chest.

I am stuck in a small town because my mother got us evicted from our home in Denver. I didn’t forget that detail, but I forgot some others.

Mom was living with my two bothers and my niece and she kept telling me she was going to move when Hannah graduated. She meant to the day. She up and packed her few things, and got an apartment. She was still working, and she needed a car, so she bought a new car. She had previously sold her Jeep because she needed to make rent–my brothers weren’t bringing in enough income to sustain them all. Sad situation, my family is so fried.

Anyway, mom up and moves and she is hardly ready. With the new car payment and her income, she cant make rent, so she got evicted. Right about this time I got my settlement money, and I think mom was expecting me to save her. I wouldn’t, but I should have. At the time I was working, but psychotic. I was living in a studio apartment. I decided to buy an RV and spent the better part of my settlement on it. I was happy, but I was supporting two places, with the RV and keeping my studio.

So, mom moves into my studio and I am in the RV. The RV place says I didn’t pay them rent one month– $345– and I got pissed and left. I moved my RV to my property and moved back into my studio, with mom. Now, mom has never been one to be humble and simple. I think she knew I was happy enough living in close quarters and I wouldn’t move. I think mom is manipulative–she got Kelsi, my other niece, to ask me to move into a bigger apartment with the two of them. And I did. And what I had forgotten is that to get into that apartment, because it was at the same complex where mom had gotten evicted, is that I had to prove my income. By now I wasn’t working, trying for full-on disability because I was so sick. I had to prove my income by showing my savings, which at that time was still pretty high from the settlement. So, the three of us move in.

What I don’t realize is that Kelsi has her own wind, and her own mind, so not long after, she moves out, and it is mom and I in this odd-shaped apartment where the furniture doesn’t even fit. We stay there for years.

Then, suddenly, one day I get a call from the office. They see mom is having packages delivered to my address. She is not on the lease. They tell me to make sure it stops. I tell mom, and mom says, “What are they going to do?” Well… about a month later I get a call from the office and we’re evicted. They have a judgement against mom for unpaid rent and I have a tenant not on the lease.

By now, my settlement money is gone and I am on SSDI, bringing in roughly half of what I was bringing in while employed. I cant get an apartment anywhere. I don’t have the two-and-a-half times income to meet the requirement. So, I can move to Grand Junction and live with a friend, or I can follow mom to Iowa. Guess where I landed. Iowa is where my mom’s best friend lives, she married a farmer here after her marriage in Denver failed. Mom’s friend, Denise, has always rescued her. She and her husband did move us, I gave them $1000 for the move, always trying to pull my share.

And that is how I ended up in Iowa.

Really Lonely

I’ve been alone so long I cant really think of what it is like to have a mate, or friends even. I went to Denver recently to visit my family, and that helped, but I am really feeling my isolation, especially with the restrictions of COVID.

It has been a long time since I’ve had anyone interested in me, anyone to care enough to ask what matters, how I am day to day. I miss checking in with someone, having a few words just to keep on track.

When I was in my 20s I started dating a man in his 50s and he wasn’t so much interested in my emotional feels. I liked getting intimate through talking, saying “You matter to me.” Don’t get me wrong, we had good conversations, they just weren’t emotional. I think it was then that I began to shut down. Then I was raped in my early 30s. That really shut me down.

It wasn’t just the trauma, it was the stigma that was so hard to deal with. I didn’t feel I could confide in anyone and I had to keep my experiences a secret. I don’t feel so much that way today, but even the mere mention of having been raped will change the tenor of a conversation. I was so suicidal for so long, and the weird thing is that I think it was mostly a spiritual hit, though it was also physical and emotional violence.

I guess I feel the same about schizophrenia–it is the stigma that keeps me silent. That and the general lack of understanding. Though all of my close friends and family know, they don’t relate to my struggle. My best friend does, and she’s a treasure. I miss her since we’ve moved so far apart.

As I’ve aged I feel I really need a companion. I’ve made so many mistakes in my life. I’ve squandered time, money, love. I’ve wasted effort. What am I doing? Where am I going? What do I want from my life? Even my spiritual studies have waned and lost their meaning. I want to be in the city again, I think. If I could move now, I would. Sometimes maybe just being in the right place helps. I miss Denver. I miss my hometown. And moving back is going to be such a huge effort.

Maybe I’ll find love. Maybe if I had love I would be happy where I am, in this house, in this small, rural backwards Trump town. I was going to go to the gay church to try and find some progressive friends, but COIVD has put the kibosh on that. Now it is just me and mom, and mom is dying. I feel like I am trying to claw my way outta hell and nothing is moving fast enough.

“Home,” Again

They’re here. They’re gone. They are back again. I’ve been quiet in the day time with more activity at night, but I am still not hearing as much as I was before I went to Colorado. Colorado was quiet except for the last day or so. We didn’t want to leave. We wanted to move back. I even almost signed a lease. Two. I just feel like I am never going to get out of this small, rural town. It sucks, in so many ways.


Special Dispensation

They’re traumatized. My voices, that is. They’re traumatized by my living, I guess. They harass each other. This time it is because I quit my meds. My voices actually want me on my meds. Things go smoother then.

I don’t hear them in pain, or when they are suffering. ¬†They go quiet. It is quiet tonight, so maybe something is wrong, I think? What a weird world my head has become. Spirits fighting spirits. I’ve actually gotten used to them.

I have a steady, “home group” of voices, then they switch out throughout the day. They come to visit me, and nighttime is the best time. Often the most active. My energy has been so low, though, hence me going off my meds.

I’m going off my meds for bipolar because they weren’t working. I would feel depressed all morning then manic and anxious at night. Off the meds, I feel a steady state. Figure that one out. Meds sometimes just stop working, or cause bad side effects, sometimes the very thing they are purported to treat.

When things are good, I have good voices. I’m lucky in that way, and that may be my only form of luck. I’m staying on my anti-psychotic because I have learned (now) that leads to nothing good. Ever.