Every week, I set a general goal as well as a list of things I need to accomplish for that week. I’m guilty of procrastination. Not because I don’t want to do the work involved, but because it causes me great anxiety. In addition, my health often interrupts the flow I can sometimes get into.
I haven’t even gotten back to my legal advocate Re housing and such. There’s even an email from her in my inbox, but just the idea of reading it somehow makes me terribly nauseous and jittery. Fear of the unknown? Fear that I will not get the assistance I need? Both. I’m terrified. I’m starting to truly believe I’ll die in this bed, in the prison of a room. Ive considered just “becoming lost” and forcing the government’s hand. One problem; it’s really hard to disappear without a car to get you somewhere and a mobility impairment requiring a wheelchair or rollator. Far more complicated than is plausible.
There has been recent discussion from my medical professionals about going to the media about my situation. The problem is, what do I tell and what to keep quiet about? It saddens me to share this, but I have reason to believe my mother is passively trying to harm herself, and possibly me. Her behavior continues to be erratic. Sugary sweet one moment, threatening and cruel the next. She’s clearly miserable and depressed, but what none of us realized is, she’s been purposely isolating herself for over a decade. She actually began to slip away when I needed her most in my late teens now that I think of it. Do I throw my abusers under the bus? Do I continue to protect them and deny any mistreatment? I don’t know. Hope is fading.