Perhaps by now I should know better than to piss off a narcissist with a penchant for abusing the power entrusted to them. On March 18, I learned that DSHS intended to slash my food stamps by 75%. There was zero law to support this life-threatening action, but a team of vindictive narcissists with a whole lot of power can be highly creative. Yesterday, I learned that they did it. Fuck my ADA plan which requires them to explain why they so steadfastly refuse to follow the law before they implement an adverse decision.
Those of you who have PTSD know how hard our therapy animals work when something triggers a PTSD episode, and we spiral into suicidal ideations so intense we sometimes wonder whether we are masochistic to fight so hard to survive. Bitzie has pulled me off that ledge more times than I can count.
Journalist Mac McClelland wrote in her book Irritable Hearts: A PTSD Love Story that she binge-watched television and drank heavily when PTSD episodes were overwhelming. She’s not alone. Most folks with Complex PTSD have our televisions on 24/7 to contain flashbacks and nightmares.
Therapy animals and televisions are as essential for our survival as oxygen is for someone with emphysema. The Byrds bring tremendous joy into my life ~ especially when they watch and critique the singers on The Voice. DSHS has accepted prescriptions for my therapy animals from my doctors and therapists for almost a decade. The cost of their care has always been perceived to be a medically necessary expense when calculating my food stamp amount.
The same is true for these woodpeckers. The entire family visits my feeder. It is an absolute joy to watch the parents bring their new babies. They always sing before they eat. I don’t know whether this is a way to say “thank you” or a prayer. It never fails to make my heart sing.
Everyone who visits me marvels over the Stellars jays who swoop in for peanuts. They too have a lovely call to signal their flock that they’ve found food.
Everyone who visits my apartment complex knows that I’m the lady with the flowers. Gardening has been another long prescribed coping mechanism. I have been taking daily photos of my beloved Angelique tulips this year, and I took this photo yesterday while I was wondering whether the April Fool’s joke was on me. Why the hell do I fight so hard to survive? Yet, I was very seriously contemplating suicide while marveling at the beauty of Ma Nature.
DSHS informed me yesterday that none of these coping mechanisms which are absolutely essential to my ability to survive is medically necessary. Fuck my doctor’s and therapist’s prescriptions. Fuck the law. Babs Roberts wants me dead, and she’s determined to make sure that I won’t have the resources to survive.
When she and her staff finally read the damned law on March 18, they discovered that they had to include the costs of these medically necessary expenses in my food stamp calculations because they had been approved to meet my medical spenddown. They took care of this pesky detail by ordering a review of my spenddown and jettisoning almost everything that had been approved on February 23.
I knew it was futile to bring up the other pesky detail that these expenses had all been prescribed by my therapists and doctors. Or the pesky detail that DSHS had been approving these expenses as medically necessary for almost a decade. Or the pesky detail that homicide by abuse is a class A felony in Washington state. Fuck the law. She wants me dead.
I’ve helped a lot of you over the years, and now I need your help. Good nutrition, exercise, and sleep are essential to stave off depression. If we don’t eat healthy, we don’t have the energy to exercise. If we don’t exercise regularly, we don’t sleep. Every health issue that I have is linked to stress and nutrition. I’m not going to survive much longer if this decision stands.
DSHS is trying to force me into an administrative hearing, and I know now that the whole food stamp review was a set up. There’s no way in hell that I’ll allow them to cast this pattern and practice of attempted homicide by abuse into concrete via an administrative review decision.
Michelle Millman at KIRO has made it abundantly clear that she doesn’t give a shit that her irresponsible journalism has placed my life in grave jeopardy. After reading Ms. McClelland’s book, I know that people with PTSD are routinely subjected to a sophisticated holocaust by various government agencies:
People being bullied frequently benefit from the formation of alliances. In other words, there really is safety in numbers. Adult bullies who abuse the power entrusted to them and make a whole lot of money can destroy a person’s life with the flick of a pen.
My case manager said yesterday that we need to get creative, and I agree. So, I’m asking ~ I’m begging ~ y’all to do what you can to create what I like to call circles of protection around someone being abused. We’ve all needed those circles from time to time, and my survival depends on y’all coming through for me.
One of these years on Maundy Thursday I’d sure as hell like to not be on my knees praying like Jesus in the Garden.
Thanks in advance, and God bless you all.
The poor are treated like criminals everywhere, even at the grocery store by Jeanine Grant Lister, the Washington Post, 4/1/15
PTSD: Discrimination and Abuse of Power, March 18, 2015
DSHS: Discrimination and Abuse of Power, March 19, 2015