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Please begin with an informative title:

So I saw my therapist today and picked up my meds and we were talking about whether or not I was ready to go home.  It was productive and a good session.

And then I made the mistake of talking to Mum.

More below the Dooblydoo.

This is a rantish diary - I do not need any bullshit about how grateful I should be to my parents for "taking me in" or how "spoiled and childish" I am for wanting my own life back. Just don't go there and read something else.


You must enter an Intro for your Diary Entry between 300 and 1150 characters long (that's approximately 50-175 words without any html or formatting markup).

So naturally, I'm worried about the bills and how I will cope once I get home.  I'm worried about getting my meds and getting better without therapy since there's not any really available I can afford. My therapist and I talked about strategies should I stay, getting out more and meeting people - and ways I could manage if I went home.  In short - we did therapy.

And the honest truth is - I don't know how I will manage once I go home.  I don't know that I'm as scrappy and clever as I was before I came here.  I've gotten soft and fat and used to running water and microwaves.  I don't know what will happen with my SSDI claim - it's no longer in my hands, I just have to wait for the decision - and the vast majority of people don't get through the first round a winner.  So I'm very likely facing another fall and winter of scrounging and struggle like I have been if that works out the way I expect it to.  My personal motto is "Murphy was an optimist."

If I do happen to be a lucky crazy person and get approved - everything will be fine once the payments start.  I will have more than enough to take care of myself and the boat and the car and the cat because my expenses are low.  I will be able to see doctors and therapists and truly work at getting better in a non-toxic environment.  I'm hoping, but not expecting - and have the name of an Oregon based SS lawyer if I have to start jumping through hoops all over again for round two.  But if I'm approved - I will be ok and have the resources to take care of myself properly and focus on getting better in my own home and my town where I feel safe and part of the community.

But I made the mistake of mentioning my doubts to Mum.  And it rapidly went downhill from there.

My Mum is one of those people who hears, but doesn't listen.  And those are two very different things.  She is a FOX nation kind of woman - right now she's on Facebook going on about poor Paula Dean and how everyone is being SO unfair to her.  She's mad - not only about how poor Paula is being railroaded - but because I refuse to play her nasty little games.

She's always been a knife twister - the kind of mum who laughs when you're afraid and mocks you for being stupid, the kind who looks for and uses the quickest quip to hurt your feelings.  At least she has always been with me. The kind of woman who in all seriousness says things like, "It's not exactly that we like him more, it's just he's so much easier than you. And HE was sick."  

Because you know, an autistic child isn't really sick.  A teen with schizophrenia and no one notices isn't really a problem.  Seriously.  I've heard and talked to the voices since I was 12 or 13 and no one noticed.  Not because I was particularly good at hiding it yet, simply because no one noticed me.  The invisible kid.  The unimportant kid.  The other kid.

So dumbass me, that's who I went to for comfort and advice - because you know - dumbass. And naturally, it blew up in my face.  I was told I "didn't like" my tae kwon do classes - so that was out if I stayed. ORLY?  I'm expensive. Monthly favourite there - pity the poor tea partiers that wanted me to cat sit while they went to Scotland. They won't be supporting me if I leave and I'll just be poor and it will be my fault/choice. She just doesn't know what I'm capable of - but she doesn't see me trying to do anything. You can totally think yourself better if you try hard enough, you know? So it's the - I don't want you to go but I'm sure going to make you miserable about being here dance - and I don't want to play that bullshit.  I don't have the energy for it. I just don't.

Stage two is the "give ridiculous advice and then be butthurt when I point out that it's ridiculous" section of the game. If you just didn't expect the "Jew church" to be so...Jewish, then you wouldn't have a problem going there. You can go to this new free clinic I just looked up for that sinus infection you beat yourself because we wouldn't give you money to see the doctor.  How dare you not have it anymore now I found a way to not pay for treatment! Ingrate! That's right, go back to your room, coward, because this bullshit is my best maternal side reserved for you, dammit!

So fuck it.  I'm going after they get back from the 4th of July with my uncle - that was this month's we need you here you can't leave when you wanted to excuse.  Until they come up with next month's we need you for X/can't afford it (but she "works three jobs" and my dad is a retired COLONEL with a secondary pension as a pilot from another 20 year career after he left the military) and you can't leave when you wanted excuse.  

But it's totally my choice.  See?

Extended (Optional)

Originally posted to Mortifyd on Mon Jun 24, 2013 at 06:56 PM PDT.

Also republished by Community Spotlight.

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