Last night’s dinner was popcorn. This is the photo of this morning’s breakfast. Those of you who know me well will wonder what’s the big deal. I frequently skip breakfast. Please note the empty coffee cup. Yes, I skip breakfast, but I always, always have several cups of coffee. I live in the Seattle area. Coffee is like a religion.
This was today’s lunch.
And, this is tonight’s dinner. The upside of all these empty plates, glasses, and cups is that I won’t have to worry about fasting before tomorrow morning’s blood work. And, I don’t have any dirty dishes to wash.
I’m writing this post and blowing the whistle because I’m done begging the system for help. There is absolutely NO excuse for me to have nothing to eat today. I have four case managers assigned to keep shit like this from happening. For one of them, I have to prepare a detailed budget each month. They knew weeks ago that I was going to run out of money long before I ran out of month.
They also knew or should have known that almost every damned expense in my budget is what the government calls “medically necessary.”
In plain English, this means I need to spend that money to keep my health from sliding further down the rabbit hole.
DSHS knows that my depression is caused by malnutrition. My family knows my depression is caused by malnutrition. All of my four case workers know that my depression is caused by malnutrition.
I’m fairly certain that all these people had nice dinners tonight ~ lunches this afternoon ~ breakfast this morning. I’m also guessing that many of them spent more for their morning latte than I have to feed myself for a day ~ $4.
Today my crackerjack HMO* finally referred me to a therapist ~ after FIVE months of begging for the name of someone competent. And, a case worker from DSHS had the audacity this afternoon to suggest my expectations are too high. Excuse me? I should have had the name of a competent therapist within five minutes of requesting one.
When I spoke to the new therapist this afternoon, her solution for dealing with the asshole narcissists all of us “get” to encounter in today’s narcissistic world is to avoid them. Right. Sorry. I live in the real world which most of you know is polluted with self-absorbed, emotionally abusive narcissists. There’s no avoiding them. They’re everywhere.
I certainly hope she’s in better form when I have my first therapy appointment next week. And, I hope she’s more clear on the difference in treatment protocols between PTSD and Complex-PTSD than she was when we scheduled our first appointment.
And, I wish to hell I hadn’t answered the phone this afternoon when the case manager from DSHS called. I burst into tears of relief when she said her name. She’s helped two people I know intimately be the best they can be. I thought it was my lucky day. By the time I realized she was blowing me off, I missed the deadline for getting in line at the local food pantry. I’m not sure this was much of a loss because most of what they dispense is unhealthy carbohydrates, canned goods years passed the pull date, rotten produce, and fat-laden breakfast sausage. They allow local grocery stores to take a tax write off for donating garbage.
There are those in positions of power in the county where I live who believe Volunteers of America is the greatest thing since sliced bread. Well, sliced bread ~ white bread with absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever ~ is about all they dispense. Yet, they get the lion’s share of government funding to keep disabled people from falling through the cracks into homelessness.
I have begged for help from my alma mater. I was promised a prompt response seven months ago.
I have begged for help all the way to the top of DSHS. So far, I’ve gotten a lot of blah-blah-blah, but I haven’t received any meaningful help.
I have made public comments three times before my local county council. Two of the guys ~ including the one who allegedly represents me ~ wouldn’t be on the county council but for my vigilant efforts to keep a poop factory off my favorite beach.
I have written letters, I have made phone calls, I have talked to investigative reporters, I have sent e-mail messages, and I have engaged in sit-ins. I have gone to numerous agencies ~ including hundreds of domestic violence agencies ~ funded by various government agencies and gotten creamed royally.
Tonight I decided it was time to blow a warning whistle. I know for damned sure that I’m not the only domestic violence survivor walking in these shoes. I’m suggesting we file class action lawsuits in every state where we live.
In Washington State, the callous indifference I have experienced is criminal. Seriously. Class A felony under RCW 9A.32.055 ~ the most serious level of crime. My mother could go to prison if I die from the pre-cancerous ulcer festering in my esophogas or from suicide. She doesn’t look good in prison orange. Further, she and my HMO and Volunteers of America are all guilty of abandonment under RCW 74.34.020:
(1) “Abandonment” means action or inaction by a person or entity with a duty of care for a vulnerable adult that leaves the vulnerable person without the means or ability to obtain necessary food, clothing, shelter, or health care.
The person who was trying valiantly to help me has been placed on administrative leave for reasons that don’t pass my smell test.
I’m not naming names in this post, but I am sending links to the people who I believe should be helping me try to achieve my goal of financial self-sufficiency instead of helping my mother throw me under the bus. Seven months is more than sufficient time to craft and implement a viable treatment plan.
Yesterday I learned that I have exactly five months from today to achieve my objective of financial self-sufficiency, or I will be compelled to try to figure out how to subsist on $126/month after my 62nd birthday. I was on the threshold of financial self-sufficiency when my mother shot me off the rails last September. She got a lot of help sabotaging my dreams from a myriad of agencies being paid big money to help me rebound and recover.
Most of the members of my family claim to be devout Christians. But, every damned one of them has turned their backs on me. It isn’t anything new. They didn’t protect me when I was a kid from my parents’ abuse and neglect. They didn’t protect me from my uncle’s sexual molestation either.
I hope y’all had a nice dinner tonight.
For those of you walking in my shoes tonight, I want you to know that you aren’t alone. And, none of us should have to endure this callous indifference.
Why am I so pissed off? I’ve been told that my book proposal is brilliant. Yes, it needs some work. I have been busting my ass for years trying to achieve financial self-sufficiency, and I’m damned tired of my efforts getting sabotaged by family members and paid professionals who should be supporting my dreams.
* July 2nd Update: My crackerjack HMO today denied payment of the claim from my case manager who has been most diligent. Why? Because we didn’t get prior authorization from the HMO case manager who has steadfastly refused to return my phone calls. Yesterday, I was told that I will not be allowed to speak to anyone but the guy who won’t call back! So, I’m going on record that my crackerjack HMO is Molina Healthcare of Washington. Buyer beware!
Thank you to the folks who have sent e-mail messages or called since I published this post to schedule appointments and/or respond to my concerns and frustrations. I hope y’all have a Happy 4th of July.