Let’s Try Again

Many years ago, when open diary was first a thing, and a free thing, I had an account under the name Wutzerface. So many years later, after so many changes, including two deaths of people I most certainly wrote about in those earlier years (one of which is a sibling), I so wish I could retrieve that diary. Unfortunately, the email address I used at the time has long not been used and was even hacked.

Anyway, I really need to get into writing again. At least recording day to day thoughts, happenings, and ideas. I went to school for writing (unfortunately) and need to make a better effort to actually write.

Right now, I am writing from a hotel room, which I extended with quite a bit of fear until the first. One thing that I am incredibly grateful for in recent times is that someone randomly saw a comment of mine on TikTok that I’m existing in my car with my two dogs and gifted me $200. I’ve never personally seen that kind of generosity from a stranger, a gift in and of itself to even witness, especially when my faith in humanity lately has been so greatly diminished.

My girl dog currently is snoring under a blanket. My boy dog is laying next to me, curled up on a blanket covered pillow. I am trying to write a list for a paid article site and am keeping ubereats and doordash open just in case a decent delivery might come through, which so far isn’t looking promising. I’m trying to recoup some of the money spent on a hotel room. At some point, too, I need to get my dog into a specialist. I can’t really put into words the stress and fear of living in and out of a car while one of the two little loves of your life declines. I believe having a pet is a lifetime commitment and, yet, sometimes I do wonder if it’s selfish of me to hold onto them. But I’ve had them since they were tiny babies and I also don’t believe they’d do well with anyone they don’t and haven’t known.

There’s so much stigma and assumption surrounding those who do not have a home. That it’s a choice, that there’s mental illness, that there’s addiction, and so on. For me, none of these are true, and I would definitely never choose to be without a home while watching a being I love so incredibly much decline. So I’m going to take a moment to just explore the reasons that contributed to me being here.

1.) I have no family or support system. This is actually the main reason many people end up with no home. For me, my biological father was absent and in prison my whole life. My mother was a heavy alcoholic, a pill addict, emotionally immature and toxic/abusive. It also doesn’t help that once you hit a place of struggle, once it all gets too much to carry alone, once you’re without a home, people view you differently due to societal conditioning and they slip from your life and you are also not dateable. This worsens as time goes on.

2.) I can’t interview. For the life of me, I can not interview. No amount of practice makes this better. I do not know if it is CPTSD or if I am on the spectrum (this has been speculated by people who have known me while others disagree (I feel it’s possible)), but due to no insurance and the inability to get decent healthcare in this country, I can’t get diagnosed with either. When I try to interview, I totally lose all vocabulary. It’s like momentary mutism. It’s painfully humiliating, as the interviewer ends up staring at me like I am stupid (I am not) and as if they’re wondering why I am even there. I had to get an accommodation due to this problem for my thesis defense (I am a first generation student with almost two master’s degrees). It’s sad, because at this point interviewers are pretty much hiring based on the ability to interview rather than what’s actually needed to get the job done. I believe, beyond my inability to interview, that I am capable of doing pretty much any job.

3.) Systemic barriers. Enough said. They exist in more ways than many see.

I carry what has been described as an abnormal amount of empathy. Often times, I feel too soft for this world. The thought of all the struggles and pain, to me, can be debilitating. I’ve seen through the system my whole life. That the way we live is arbitrary and made up. I’m kind. I don’t do drugs. I don’t really drink much at all. Whenever I have a single drink, I end up regretting it. I won’t even touch pharmaceuticals. I have almost two master’s degrees (unfortunately with no modeling or foresight or knowledge of all that’s available it left me with over $200,000 in debt and no practical or marketable skills). I’m very artistically talented. And I have no home.