The walls are closing in on me.

No idea why I keep blogging about all this. No one cares. That’s obvious. I guess it some perverse idea that I don’t want to just keel over from not having my meds and no one knows why. If it happens, I am reminded of that wise old saying about how much you’ll be missed. It reads "put your hand in a bucket of water and then remove it and see how much you have affected it." Yes, a brief ripple and then no one knows you were ever there. Fitting.

My world is crashing in on me. I had applied for welfare to at least get me my meds before it’s too late, but they are jerking me around. I had hoped that I would hear something today because they knew how critical it was, but, when I finally managed to contact my worker, she said she had sent me a letter! A letter? How urgent is that? Typical government worker. Not a clue about the real world.

Tonight is my last meal, literally, as that is all the food I have left. I can’t go to the food bank because I don’t have my authorization from welfare. The food bank only gives you a pathetic three days of lousy food anyway, so I have no idea how you are expected to live on that. My landlady, for whom I did about forty hours of tough work on her house for with little thanks and certainly no break on the rent, now wants me to go and stay at the men’s Mission. I’ve missed two payments on my car, so I guess it might be a good idea to sleep in it somewhere else so they can’t grab it from me, knowing my address.

Thanks to the disasters of the last few years I have nothing much left to sell. I’ve put my blades and my pool cue on Kijiji. I’ve been holding off putting my bike on because I might need it, but now my landlady might scoop it for rent. Other than clothes nobody wants, all I have is my computer and printer and they’re not worth a whole lot. I see selling them as completely giving up, which I’m close to today. I have about fifteen dollars to my name and, without welfare, I won’t survive. No meds is suicidal enough. Not eating on top of that for a diabetic is completely insane. At this point I would welcome the end of all this stress though.

There is so much I wanted to accomplish still. I hoped to one day be reunited with my kids, who I miss desperately each and every day. If they somehow find out that I am gone I wonder if it will mean anything to them after all these years? I was so hopeful when my son and I reconnected in 2007, but he just as quickly disappeared and I haven’t spoken to him since. I can’t even find Danielle, his daughter, who chatted with me often, but who has now also disappeared. 

I have been compiling a list of the joyous moments of my life. Not sure why. I guess maybe to believe that my life has not been a waste. No matter what the memory or who was part of it I found that all it did was make me angry that those people are not in my life, or helping me now when I helped them so much in the past. Even thinking about the kids gets me upset because I know I did nothing wrong. My kids knew I was stuck in a horrible marriage and they were the ones who encouraged me to move out West to start over. There was never any talk of them then abandoning me or my entire side of the family. I tried for years to connect with them, even driving down from BC to Ontario in the depths of the winter to see my daughter, who they hid away from me. It was all so cruel. Why do people do that to others? I figured that when my kids were adults they would come to their senses and contact us again, but that never happened. Both my father and mother passed away without ever hearing from their grand-kids again. Unbelievably sad and so undeserved.

No idea what will happen if I don’t get my drug card tomorrow. I guess without food it will all be academic anyway.

 

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