Oh, my dear, were it only that simple. I've had a lot of judgement put upon me in recent years, from family and I am sure from strangers, about my need to "get a job."
Ignoring the fact that I worked at Wal-Mart for a year(and endured my first personality split, due to an undiagnosed mental condition that repaired itself later...) and had to fight against depression, fury, anxiety and hopelessness. I wanted to move to Portland, so I did. I hadn't had any prior experience in that environment, and barely managed to get into an apartment and get a job. It was for Boost Mobile.
That also failed. This time, because I had a strange thing occur- I felt a stabbing pain in my abdomen and saw pure white. I asked to be allowed to go home, and they ignored me. I quit the next day.
So, enter a cycle of panic, fear, mental illness(mind you neither job gave me health insurance unless I wanted to pay 20$ a week that I couldn't afford.) and moving.
Finally in 2009 I ended up at my dad's back in NY. I got two jobs within a week of each other, Big Lots and Volunteers of America. By far my best job experiences, and it was then that I began to realize the problem resided with me. Let me backtrack a little.
I'm not sure exactly what it is that I have. In school, I remember the idea of being close to other people made me so nervous I crawled under all the desks to grab what I needed and crawled back. Needless to say, I didn't live that down very well.
I just consider it social anxiety. I don't like people. Well, I do. If they're quiet and only talk when I want them to. Even my own husband sends me into anxiety attacks. Anyway, at Wal-Mart I started as an "ICS associate". Aka, I stocked the food during the day because it went off the shelves so fast. I quickly discovered that having too many people in the aisle (one on each end with a shopping cart....) sent me into a feeling of panic. So, I started going to find something to do when I felt trapped.
I don't know what specifically it is, but it's like in my brain there's no escape route. When it happens, I am TRAPPED, I am stuck, there are PEOPLE (which my brain sees as bad) everywhere. I was transferred to the frozen/dairy section(oh..god...) and I hated it. For a while, anyway. I dislike people and that's where they all congregate! So I started going back to the cooler to relax when I needed to. I'd sit there, in the cooler, and pretend to face stuff if anyone came in. I think my boss started to catch on. >_<;
Anyway, I started looking forward to helping with the truck. There was a lady who did the break packs (A lot of the smaller items like health and beauty(NOT makeup), crafts, stationary, pets... the individual crap like dog bones and toys and shit, anyway it all comes in boxes mixed together. So one person takes all of them and organizes them into the proper parts. I liked it at first, until all the guys (They didn't speak english, or pretended they didn't, I'm not really sure..) one day just stacked 150 of them in front of me and KEPT at it, instead of helping. I had such a bad panic attack (Oh dear god so much STUFF... and none of them helped me move any of it to get it out of my way so I could keep being productive...) I had to leave. When my boss came in I was like ;_; I'm taking my second lunch.
It was the day from hell. I had to stay for a total of 12 hours til they were all done, I remember he got pissed at them for not helping me and yelled at one of them to help me, his name was Sergei. This other guy who was like, their ringleader, made some crack about me in spanish and he looked embarrassed. I know it was about me because of the expression -__-
Anyway, I finally got done with it, went home. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore and went on to Overnights, which worked a lot better for me. I did crafts for a while, the manager of crafts loved me :/ I really like order and things looking right so it always looked amazing. I'd put the yarn out first, and the buttons when I could, but they started getting mad at me because I wasn't overstuffing the shelves or putting things in the wrong spot just because the shelf was empty(though something else was supposed to go there..)
They put two girls who didn't speak english in there and the department manager came up to me that same day freaking out asking why everything was messed up. I told her I'd been moved and she tried to get me moved back... nope. So I got shoved around departments a lot for a month or so, I didn't mind, it was new stuff. Then, the remodel was starting. They sent me to the Gardening department, it was toward summer.. They wanted someone to, and I quote, "Make sure the Mexicans weren't going to steal tv's".. yah, serious.
So, I did. Then, right before I quit, they tried to make me lift 400$ grills (that weighed about 100 lb, and needed two strong guys to lift them up) ABOVE MY HEAD. I was like ... I CAN'T. That weighs as much as me.
"Figure it out."
"Can I get help from one of the remodel guys then? They're like, right there."
"No."
-__- So glad I got out of there.
At boost mobile I could handle the idiots better, didn't like it when they flat out told me I couldn't go home even though I was crying and had such bad stomach cramps that day that customers were asking if I was okay.
At Big Lots and Volunteers of America, my anxiety attacks started catching up to me. I hyperventilated at work a few times (I actually liked my jobs, I just got so stressed out between home stuff and work stuff, and people..) and it was just not fun.
I had a small job at Fred Meyer in Nov. of 2010. It lasted a month, because I was treated so badly I had a panic attack and ran out of the store crying. Before my shift even started. When I went back a few days later, to tell her I was quitting, she got snarky and sarcastic with me -_-;
The ONLY job I've not had a problem with was at Northwest Portland Ministries, a food bank for the NW Portland area. It was awesome.
But.. See, the thing is, I can't DO jobs where there's tons of people. Especially customers. I loved the office setting at NWPM. (It's now been renamed something else) The women were TERRIFIC!! They even gave me a baby shower (I teared up...)
So while it seems like its just like "Hey, sign up for a job at McDonalds/Walmart/Target/Big Box #12", it's really not. Not for everyone. I won't go into how much those jobs tear through people. I won't go through all that other crap (unless you guys want me to..)
It's not always easy to just "Get a job". Especially in this economy.
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
Monday, May 14, 2012
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Lack of Empathy in today's world
When one is making a point through activism, there are many people affected. I can understand frustration regarding being late to work. I can understand frustration that these people daring to make a point about something that really matters to them messes up your precious schedule. What I do not understand, however, is this cold mentality people have toward others when it comes to anyone but themselves. What am I talking about?
Homelessness. When you see someone on the street corner with a sign, no hope in their eyes, dirty, depressed and unkempt is your first thought "Ugh, oh God, not another one?" or "Don't look, they'll ask for money"? The attitude I get from people on this subject is a general attitude of disgust and refusal to acknowledge the problem, instead pointing at the person and claiming that they are the problem. "Get a job, you filthy bum!"
I've been homeless. I was legally homeless for a good portion of my childhood. I was shifted back and forth between my parents in custody battles and when my dad was in jail for a stupid mistake. I remember staying on his girlfriend's couch when I was young. I remember staying with my step grandmother for two weeks while my mom was in Ireland because my dad was in jail for something (I think drunk driving, idk, I was young). I remember being 10 or 11 and having my mother pack my crap into a garbage bag and send me to my father's house on the bus because "she couldn't deal with me anymore". My parents did their best, and I love them both. But, I never felt like I had a home. I felt alone, lost, adrift, confused, and upset in general. Kids picked on me because when I lived with my father I smelled like smoke, so I didn't even feel comfortable in school. I lived in a motel, so all kinds of rumors abounded about me being a drug addict or some nonsense. Kids suck, I don't blame them.
My driving ambition by the time I was close to graduation was just to get out, get away, get as far away as I could. When I finally graduated (which was by the skin of my teeth, a long story.. I'm not stupid, I was very lazy, angry, and had a lot of misplaced frustration.) I moved in with my aunt and uncle in california. I stayed there for almost a year, then moved to Portland, and fell in love. I was a dreamer. Didn't really see much wrong with it. I met a few homeless while I was there, one was a vet, one was drunk at the streetcar stop. I had some good conversations with them, because they were interesting, and I was curious.
Long story short, I moved south to Wilsonville and got a job. I was at a very bad place mentally, and working for Boost Mobile didn't really help. I also had bad choices of friends, again due to my naivete. So, due to my stress levels and lack of ability/knowledge of how to deal with it, I had something happen and quit my job (I saw white at work and felt stabbing pains in my abdomen. I asked to be able to go home early to go to the doctor and they told me to get back to work and ignored me. I was crying on the phone, and a customer asked me how I was. That still makes me sick..) due to a poor decision on my part. I just couldn't take it anymore.
Because I lost my job and US Bank screwed me over, I was going to become homeless, so I moved across the country in with a "friend" of mine who ended up being crazy. That led to another move, which also failed and brought me back to NY. I managed to get two jobs, and "saved" a couple of friends. I was in a bit of a better place psychologically, but took too much on at once, and barely made it working them for a year. I lost everything again and moved here.
Portland, Oregon. There are a lot of homeless people here, which is a whole different world than where I grew up. My first night a drug addict showed me where to sleep- I didn't know he was an addict til I woke up at 1 am to him shooting up with assorted pill bottles and needles scattered over his lap. I pretended I was still asleep, heart pounding, and left at 5 am due to nightmares. My second night I was raped, due to a poor choice on my part (I didn't realize how strong Four Loko's are. Dear god, never again.) I was lucky in that he wasn't violent with me and brought me back to a max station and pointed out which way was downtown. That's an odd story, too.
BUT the next day I met Jason. I complimented his outfit, he complimented my pinstripe fedora. I never thought I'd meet him again. A girl brought me to the youth shelter that night and I saw him again, and we have been inseperable friends ever since.
I was lucky, in that I am 23(almost 24!). I was 22 at the time and was able to stay at the youth shelter and get youth services. I've also seen the other side of that coin, when they decided they couldn't help me anymore. There are a lot more homeless than you see on the street. The homeless go to internet cafe's, Powells, the Library, all kinds of stuff. There aren't enough shelters. The family shelters are all closed except for one now, I think.
I've slept outside on concrete, multiple times. I've slept in a storefront, I've slept under a bridge. I'm not a high school dropout. I graduated with a C average, but I got a Regents diploma. I type 90 wpm. I've read more books than most people my age, and several older. I am by no means stupid. I'm not lazy. I never sat with a sign asking for money, though we did once make one that was interactive (Sharpies, and asked passersby if they wanted to add art or something to it.)
So, tell me.. Why is it so easy to blame the homeless for their problems?? Making a mistake happens. We are human. It's how we grow. But how does it work that making a mistake makes you a failure, and it's your fault that you can't get up on your own?? There are not enough services. It's not right, and it's not fair. "But nothing's fair, so that's okay", right?
There's something wrong, here. When we are so unempathetic we just don't care about children being forced to walk around in the cold because there aren't enough day programs open in December for all the families.
There is something wrong when people say "Oh, they should have done x" when peaceful protesters are beaten by the police.
The Right to Free Speech is not what speech you WANT them to say. It is not YOUR opinion alone that is allowed to be said. People doing nothing wrong do not deserve to get dragged off their bicycles, punched in the face, kicked, hit, etc because their march is unpermitted. That is free speech. Martin Luther King didn't ask for permission to make his points. Asking permission to be allowed to make a point MEANS YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO MAKE THE POINT.
Don't blame the victims for their victimization. I am not talking about protesters who hit cops first, or spit at them, etc. I am talking about people just like you.
Homelessness. When you see someone on the street corner with a sign, no hope in their eyes, dirty, depressed and unkempt is your first thought "Ugh, oh God, not another one?" or "Don't look, they'll ask for money"? The attitude I get from people on this subject is a general attitude of disgust and refusal to acknowledge the problem, instead pointing at the person and claiming that they are the problem. "Get a job, you filthy bum!"
I've been homeless. I was legally homeless for a good portion of my childhood. I was shifted back and forth between my parents in custody battles and when my dad was in jail for a stupid mistake. I remember staying on his girlfriend's couch when I was young. I remember staying with my step grandmother for two weeks while my mom was in Ireland because my dad was in jail for something (I think drunk driving, idk, I was young). I remember being 10 or 11 and having my mother pack my crap into a garbage bag and send me to my father's house on the bus because "she couldn't deal with me anymore". My parents did their best, and I love them both. But, I never felt like I had a home. I felt alone, lost, adrift, confused, and upset in general. Kids picked on me because when I lived with my father I smelled like smoke, so I didn't even feel comfortable in school. I lived in a motel, so all kinds of rumors abounded about me being a drug addict or some nonsense. Kids suck, I don't blame them.
My driving ambition by the time I was close to graduation was just to get out, get away, get as far away as I could. When I finally graduated (which was by the skin of my teeth, a long story.. I'm not stupid, I was very lazy, angry, and had a lot of misplaced frustration.) I moved in with my aunt and uncle in california. I stayed there for almost a year, then moved to Portland, and fell in love. I was a dreamer. Didn't really see much wrong with it. I met a few homeless while I was there, one was a vet, one was drunk at the streetcar stop. I had some good conversations with them, because they were interesting, and I was curious.
Long story short, I moved south to Wilsonville and got a job. I was at a very bad place mentally, and working for Boost Mobile didn't really help. I also had bad choices of friends, again due to my naivete. So, due to my stress levels and lack of ability/knowledge of how to deal with it, I had something happen and quit my job (I saw white at work and felt stabbing pains in my abdomen. I asked to be able to go home early to go to the doctor and they told me to get back to work and ignored me. I was crying on the phone, and a customer asked me how I was. That still makes me sick..) due to a poor decision on my part. I just couldn't take it anymore.
Because I lost my job and US Bank screwed me over, I was going to become homeless, so I moved across the country in with a "friend" of mine who ended up being crazy. That led to another move, which also failed and brought me back to NY. I managed to get two jobs, and "saved" a couple of friends. I was in a bit of a better place psychologically, but took too much on at once, and barely made it working them for a year. I lost everything again and moved here.
Portland, Oregon. There are a lot of homeless people here, which is a whole different world than where I grew up. My first night a drug addict showed me where to sleep- I didn't know he was an addict til I woke up at 1 am to him shooting up with assorted pill bottles and needles scattered over his lap. I pretended I was still asleep, heart pounding, and left at 5 am due to nightmares. My second night I was raped, due to a poor choice on my part (I didn't realize how strong Four Loko's are. Dear god, never again.) I was lucky in that he wasn't violent with me and brought me back to a max station and pointed out which way was downtown. That's an odd story, too.
BUT the next day I met Jason. I complimented his outfit, he complimented my pinstripe fedora. I never thought I'd meet him again. A girl brought me to the youth shelter that night and I saw him again, and we have been inseperable friends ever since.
I was lucky, in that I am 23(almost 24!). I was 22 at the time and was able to stay at the youth shelter and get youth services. I've also seen the other side of that coin, when they decided they couldn't help me anymore. There are a lot more homeless than you see on the street. The homeless go to internet cafe's, Powells, the Library, all kinds of stuff. There aren't enough shelters. The family shelters are all closed except for one now, I think.
I've slept outside on concrete, multiple times. I've slept in a storefront, I've slept under a bridge. I'm not a high school dropout. I graduated with a C average, but I got a Regents diploma. I type 90 wpm. I've read more books than most people my age, and several older. I am by no means stupid. I'm not lazy. I never sat with a sign asking for money, though we did once make one that was interactive (Sharpies, and asked passersby if they wanted to add art or something to it.)
So, tell me.. Why is it so easy to blame the homeless for their problems?? Making a mistake happens. We are human. It's how we grow. But how does it work that making a mistake makes you a failure, and it's your fault that you can't get up on your own?? There are not enough services. It's not right, and it's not fair. "But nothing's fair, so that's okay", right?
There's something wrong, here. When we are so unempathetic we just don't care about children being forced to walk around in the cold because there aren't enough day programs open in December for all the families.
There is something wrong when people say "Oh, they should have done x" when peaceful protesters are beaten by the police.
The Right to Free Speech is not what speech you WANT them to say. It is not YOUR opinion alone that is allowed to be said. People doing nothing wrong do not deserve to get dragged off their bicycles, punched in the face, kicked, hit, etc because their march is unpermitted. That is free speech. Martin Luther King didn't ask for permission to make his points. Asking permission to be allowed to make a point MEANS YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO MAKE THE POINT.
Don't blame the victims for their victimization. I am not talking about protesters who hit cops first, or spit at them, etc. I am talking about people just like you.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I'll tell you the truth, Internet Dwellers..
I'm very worried. Financially, for myself and a lot of people in this country I've never even met. Friends I've had and had to leave behind, little pieces of me left with them. I carry a piece of them with me, but that's a thought for another blog, another day. Today I've got to get something off my chest.
I'm am scared. There, I said it. Me, who's been through so much crap for so long, who grew up in a motel room, who was literally homeless for a year, who's lived with sociopaths of many different arrays of psychosis, am actually scared. I'll go into my situation first, then why I'm scared for other people later. But I really need to talk about this.
It's my own fault, really. I don't consider it a bad thing, but the pregnancy wasn't exactly expected. I've been running, trying to find the green pasture, trying to find home. That feeling I've never really felt before except in my mind. That feeling of welcome, of knowing you belong. The closest I've found are Canandaigua, NY and Portland, Oregon. But that's not the point.
I guess I'm still beating around the bush about it even though I'm trying to make myself say it. I've been running for a long damn time, and I am scared.. because now I've run back to where it all started, and I have nothing. Literally, just the items I bring with me, whatever cash I have (less than 50 bucks) and a great deal of hope and inner strength. I have nowhere to go, after two weeks. My dad's giving us a place for two weeks, after that we need to find a place. I won't be able to get on TANF until I'm 6 months, approximately Sept 15thish. So, for the first time I will be actually worried. I'm 4.5 months pregnant right now, almost 5. And I won't have a solid place to stay. My dad can't afford it, and he's too far away from any decent jobs anyway, and my mom gets help from the government so that'd be pointless. I don't know what to do. I've grown up so much, become an entirely different person but at the core is still the scared me, not knowing what to do.
I'm going to have to hit churches and hope for the best, because Jason and I will get split up at shelters, if there even are any in Canandaigua. I just want a home. Stability. You know?
It's not just me I'm scared for though. The lower class is getting hit hard by all this financial bullshit, and it's only going to get worse.. Because of all the layoffs, more people are sliding downhill financially, and it really worries me.. Unless something changes, I only see bad things happening. I wish the rich would get their heads out of their ass and see people like me as people for once.
I'm am scared. There, I said it. Me, who's been through so much crap for so long, who grew up in a motel room, who was literally homeless for a year, who's lived with sociopaths of many different arrays of psychosis, am actually scared. I'll go into my situation first, then why I'm scared for other people later. But I really need to talk about this.
It's my own fault, really. I don't consider it a bad thing, but the pregnancy wasn't exactly expected. I've been running, trying to find the green pasture, trying to find home. That feeling I've never really felt before except in my mind. That feeling of welcome, of knowing you belong. The closest I've found are Canandaigua, NY and Portland, Oregon. But that's not the point.
I guess I'm still beating around the bush about it even though I'm trying to make myself say it. I've been running for a long damn time, and I am scared.. because now I've run back to where it all started, and I have nothing. Literally, just the items I bring with me, whatever cash I have (less than 50 bucks) and a great deal of hope and inner strength. I have nowhere to go, after two weeks. My dad's giving us a place for two weeks, after that we need to find a place. I won't be able to get on TANF until I'm 6 months, approximately Sept 15thish. So, for the first time I will be actually worried. I'm 4.5 months pregnant right now, almost 5. And I won't have a solid place to stay. My dad can't afford it, and he's too far away from any decent jobs anyway, and my mom gets help from the government so that'd be pointless. I don't know what to do. I've grown up so much, become an entirely different person but at the core is still the scared me, not knowing what to do.
I'm going to have to hit churches and hope for the best, because Jason and I will get split up at shelters, if there even are any in Canandaigua. I just want a home. Stability. You know?
It's not just me I'm scared for though. The lower class is getting hit hard by all this financial bullshit, and it's only going to get worse.. Because of all the layoffs, more people are sliding downhill financially, and it really worries me.. Unless something changes, I only see bad things happening. I wish the rich would get their heads out of their ass and see people like me as people for once.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Social Anxiety
This is something I've noticed of quite a few people that I've met, both out here and just in general. I'm not alone in it. I've met many people who are uncomfortable in crowds, and I don't think it's nearly as rare or strange as we think. Everything we are, all our traits, problems, etc, we are never alone in them no matter how much we may feel it. There are 6.6 billion people on this planet, give or take, and while it may be a depressing viewpoint to most, I find it strangely inspiring to realize that I'm not alone, and that I'm NOT really all that special, because all of us are. People like to believe they're special and unique, and in some ways it's true. But BECAUSE of the simple fact that everyone is a unique blend of various traits in varying degrees, NO ONE is truly special.
And to me, in a way I can't fully articulate, that makes me feel better when I'm depressed. This is one of the (I really hope) few times I'll allow myself to go on a tangent, and the reason I am is because this really matters to me down to a core level. Whenever people get that attitude of "I matter more than you do because of ________", I really have to hide my thoughts. My immediate response is essentially along the lines of "You are one in 6.6 billion CURRENT humans on this very small planet in this extremely vast universe, which is unlikely to be alone in existence since it is EXPANDING. (I know, I use caps lock to emphasize. I'm lazy, sue me <3). The very idea that we are utterly alone, the only intelligent life to ever exist in this universe, is so absurd, it's not even insulting. It's basically humorous. Yes, the person wasn't precisely saying that, but if you think of the universe in terms of sheer vastness, it's highly likely that there are more amazing, beautiful, intelligent races out there than ourselves.
All of us matter, in a way, simply because each of us holds others in check and keeps the very shaky balance of our continued existence in line. To me, every life is beautiful and precious. However, when someone doesn't use that potential, and has no craving to better themselves or even act as they are capable of acting in a beneficial manner and instead chooses to be a dramatic whiny twat, it annoys me greatly.
Thus somewhat neatly bringing me back to the subject of this blog. Now that you know the terms on which I prefer to think (Universally rather than in small pieces), you may understand my version of social anxiety.
Currently, as I believe I said once before, I am living in a shelter. The blogs I type are generally typed up on Jason's laptop, or at the library, but generally Jason's laptop. I am trying to find work, I have nearly completed JRT, and will be looking for work this week. AKA that's me not wanting you to go oh, great, another useless member of society or something and click x. ANYWAY..
Dealing with the homeless youth of downtown Portland is extremely aggravating for me. It's akin to dealing with people in 6th to 8th grade in many ways. And in some ways, worse. Some aren't so bad, but some can be. Going to the day programs to eat, because my food stamps ran out, I have to wait in line cafeteria style feeling trapped against a wall by the other 50+ people squished into one room. Most of what they talk about has to do with music, how awesome they are, how they're going to beat someone's ass, or other stuff along those lines. I yearn for intellectual conversation, and thus this blog came forth.
The reason I've been very worried and leery about getting a customer service job is that I don't deal well with stupid people. And I don't mean stupid in the way that they are incapable of learning, I mean the ones who don't try and do not want to. Walking into a crowded room is like walking into an explosive minefield that suddenly bursts into flames as soon as you step close. It feels hot and uncomfortable, and I begin to feel trapped. Most people who have social anxiety get in some way scared. They tend to feel panicky and want to run. I get that, but I don't get scared. I get the AHH lots of people and within 3 seconds every time it shifts to AHHH PEOPLE... LEAVE ME ALONE in the aggressive don't talk to me way.
Needless to say, I have two friends in the entire continuum. What a surprise. Social anxiety is not a pleasant experience. It starts with a feeling of being backed against a wall, and then you start to notice that your chest hurts. It feels like you've been punched in the chest and it's difficult to breathe. Often times, I have to leave the room until the noise dies down. Perhaps for most it has nothing to do with the noise, but the noise somehow makes it worse. Possibly the fact that it's so loud, and there are people always moving, and it's very chaotic.. I honestly don't know.
But the reason I'm posting this is to let people know that they're not alone. Even the friends that don't show it have told me they get the same feeling, or something similar.
We live in an age of gamers, of people who are comfortable sitting in front of a computer screen for hours, days at a time, and need less social interaction. Perhaps it's not so strange after all.. That doesn't make it pleasant.
Yeah this was a very randomly put blog, it seemed to suit the subject, if it wasn't held together well enough to understand the point, I'm sorry. :(
And to me, in a way I can't fully articulate, that makes me feel better when I'm depressed. This is one of the (I really hope) few times I'll allow myself to go on a tangent, and the reason I am is because this really matters to me down to a core level. Whenever people get that attitude of "I matter more than you do because of ________", I really have to hide my thoughts. My immediate response is essentially along the lines of "You are one in 6.6 billion CURRENT humans on this very small planet in this extremely vast universe, which is unlikely to be alone in existence since it is EXPANDING. (I know, I use caps lock to emphasize. I'm lazy, sue me <3). The very idea that we are utterly alone, the only intelligent life to ever exist in this universe, is so absurd, it's not even insulting. It's basically humorous. Yes, the person wasn't precisely saying that, but if you think of the universe in terms of sheer vastness, it's highly likely that there are more amazing, beautiful, intelligent races out there than ourselves.
All of us matter, in a way, simply because each of us holds others in check and keeps the very shaky balance of our continued existence in line. To me, every life is beautiful and precious. However, when someone doesn't use that potential, and has no craving to better themselves or even act as they are capable of acting in a beneficial manner and instead chooses to be a dramatic whiny twat, it annoys me greatly.
Thus somewhat neatly bringing me back to the subject of this blog. Now that you know the terms on which I prefer to think (Universally rather than in small pieces), you may understand my version of social anxiety.
Currently, as I believe I said once before, I am living in a shelter. The blogs I type are generally typed up on Jason's laptop, or at the library, but generally Jason's laptop. I am trying to find work, I have nearly completed JRT, and will be looking for work this week. AKA that's me not wanting you to go oh, great, another useless member of society or something and click x. ANYWAY..
Dealing with the homeless youth of downtown Portland is extremely aggravating for me. It's akin to dealing with people in 6th to 8th grade in many ways. And in some ways, worse. Some aren't so bad, but some can be. Going to the day programs to eat, because my food stamps ran out, I have to wait in line cafeteria style feeling trapped against a wall by the other 50+ people squished into one room. Most of what they talk about has to do with music, how awesome they are, how they're going to beat someone's ass, or other stuff along those lines. I yearn for intellectual conversation, and thus this blog came forth.
The reason I've been very worried and leery about getting a customer service job is that I don't deal well with stupid people. And I don't mean stupid in the way that they are incapable of learning, I mean the ones who don't try and do not want to. Walking into a crowded room is like walking into an explosive minefield that suddenly bursts into flames as soon as you step close. It feels hot and uncomfortable, and I begin to feel trapped. Most people who have social anxiety get in some way scared. They tend to feel panicky and want to run. I get that, but I don't get scared. I get the AHH lots of people and within 3 seconds every time it shifts to AHHH PEOPLE... LEAVE ME ALONE in the aggressive don't talk to me way.
Needless to say, I have two friends in the entire continuum. What a surprise. Social anxiety is not a pleasant experience. It starts with a feeling of being backed against a wall, and then you start to notice that your chest hurts. It feels like you've been punched in the chest and it's difficult to breathe. Often times, I have to leave the room until the noise dies down. Perhaps for most it has nothing to do with the noise, but the noise somehow makes it worse. Possibly the fact that it's so loud, and there are people always moving, and it's very chaotic.. I honestly don't know.
But the reason I'm posting this is to let people know that they're not alone. Even the friends that don't show it have told me they get the same feeling, or something similar.
We live in an age of gamers, of people who are comfortable sitting in front of a computer screen for hours, days at a time, and need less social interaction. Perhaps it's not so strange after all.. That doesn't make it pleasant.
Yeah this was a very randomly put blog, it seemed to suit the subject, if it wasn't held together well enough to understand the point, I'm sorry. :(
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The System is beyond broken
Yes, I use System capitalized, because by this time it basically does have a mind of its own. A terrifying thought indeed. Allow me to explain my thoughts before you respond, please. I've heard every single person I have ever met and held a medium, and sometimes even vague five minute conversation with, use the term system as a thing, something omnipotent and far beyond our control.
Sadly and terrifyingly, in some ways this is very true. It's not because the system really DOES have some huge tall skinny white guy named Uncle Sam behind it, the thing that's really scary is that it has done so on its own, with slight help from the people who have the capability to change even small rules and regulations.
The example I'll be using is the homeless youth system of shelters and day programs etc. I live in Portland, Oregon. I'm an observer of such things as human behavior patterns, systems that work and are broken and are all interwoven, and society in general.
Where to begin... That's always the problem with me. By the time I get to typing about it I'm already so annoyed that I don't even know where to start. My fury drives me on. I will however try my best to describe. I see things as images half the time in my mind, and the system is like a huge conglomerate puzzle-like factory that has been blown up, shattered, and pieced back together in a very fragmented and jumbled way that still has pieces inside moving so badly that even common passersby know it doesn't work.
But it's scary to even contemplate fixing it because the general problem is you have NO CLUE where to start. We are raised in this society to believe two things that are polar against each other- That our voice and our vote matters, and that in reality we are only one vote. That vote doesn't matter against the majority.
I won't coddle you or pet you with a feather, it's true. The system is broken, and there's not much you can do to fix it. Quite honestly, in my observation, given its current status, and this does sadden me, I don't think it CAN be saved. I believe this is one of those times where you have to destroy something for it to be fixed because you have to start from the ground up. And no, I don't have any plans to destroy it. I don't think I will need to, but that's another story for either later today or perhaps tomorrow...
Right now I'm going to get personal. Honestly, I have social anxiety disorder. Pills are not nor will they ever be the answer- yet again, another topic. My brain likes to go on tangents, I'm trying to keep it in check. Having social anxiety disorder, and being a deeper thinker than everyone you're around 24 hours a day 7 days a week is extremely frustrating in the long run. I pride myself on my self control. I truly do. If it wasn't for my sheer ability to keep my anger in, I probably would have hit someone before now out of pure frustration.
The system is broken. I can understand the logic at the core, how it should work, but it's been broken by people abusing it. It's tragic, but true. The system is broken because the people are broken, and more people are breaking because the broken system is rolling right over them, leaving shrapnel in their back.
I guess I will start from the beginning of my story(ish). My third day out here, I met a very interesting guy who had seen me several times in two days. I say interesting because he must have had 30 piercings and tattoos on his face, was very tall and skinny, obviously a drug addict, and apparently seemed protective of me. He was very intoxicated and in retrospect probably higher than some clouds, and was insistent to a girl he knew that "I GET SOMEWHERE SAFE!"
I'm 5'4 and 120 lb. It was very sweet, if slightly disturbing at the time. The girl was a pretty cool girl I've only seen twice since. She's probably long left Portland. She brought me to Porchlight. Ahh, Porchlight..
That's what got me started to where I am now. I found out that there was an emergency crisis center, and she brought me there and made sure I'd get up that night. I got upstairs, met my best friend who I had seen earlier in the day, and the next morning talked to one of the people who ran the place at 9 the next morning about my situation.
Porchlight is the crappier version of Streetlight, where I am staying now. In Porchlight you have a couple more freedoms- you can come in up until 6 am or leave when you arrive after eating without using any credits, and you only have 15 nights you are allowed to stay there.
Talking to the guy, I found out that according to the law, I have been considered homeless or at risk for homelessness for approximately 3 years. So, I was eligible for the program that Porchlight was part of- the Janus Youth Continuum.
They sent me to OI and I was then confused. I waited for about a week or two for a caseworker and began to realize a few things. One, sleeping on those mats is basically the same as sleeping on concrete, two there are bugs, three, half the people there are addicts, convicts, or otherwise creepy people you should stay away from, and there is NO stability. Finally though a week later I got a caseworker and a week after that I managed to get on the streetlight list to get upstairs.
That is where I have been for the last 2 months. Upstairs of Porchlight. It's a more stable shelter where you can stay as long as you follow the rules, do their little chores, etc. There are slightly better mattresses, you can clean your clothes, you can go to the clothing closet once a week and you have a locker.
However, the people upstairs were also once in Porchlight, not all of them were interested in bettering themselves. Finding underwear on the floor, toilets not flushed, stuff in the bathroom and showers, and having really rude people sharing a room with you is something you have to get used to.
Now we get into more personal stuff. Getting back to the social anxiety disorder, I get fidgety in crowds in tight spaces. Understandable, the main problem is the noise. It's very chaotic. I grew up as an only child and my parents were either ignoring me or screaming at me/trying to convince me to do something they wanted me to. (Don't get me wrong, I love them now as much as I can.) I never had my own room growing up, I grew up poor. Or rather when I was with my mom I had a room but there was no lock. No privacy.
Until this happened I had two jobs, I had an apartment, I had everything. Sure, it was a motel room, but it was MY place. But what happened was because of the social anxiety I was having a harder time at both jobs, and long story short now I need to find more data entry type work.
Now I am living in a bunk bed in a shared room with at least one other person with two bunk beds and 2 sets of lockers squeezed into it. No matter where I go in shelter, I am not allowed to leave, and there is no privacy. If you don't lock the bathroom door, even if your feet are obviously showing in the space between the door and the floor, people will try to open it because they are so self absorbed in their own little lives they don't think about it. They whine about having to wait three seconds for you to wipe and flush. They are solely interested in themselves and most of the time not even in helping themselves out of the situation.
In some ways I do understand why. When life kicks you in the face enough times eventually you just expect it and give up. I don't know what you can do for those people, and it bothers me.
I've almost gotten to that point myself, because I feel trapped and confused. Everywhere you hear "GET A JOB and get out of there then!" Like it's so simple as just walking into a place and coming out with a job in this economy. Like it's simple to do when you have to struggle to find decent interview clothes and have to share one iron with 60 people.
I can't concentrate anymore, unless I have a computer in front of me. I have a panic attack every day, sometimes as many as six and unless I get a job I can't get into trans housing, but if I get a job I won't really need trans housing because I can get a place. What I need is stability, a door on a room that I can shut the world out with to be able to get and maintain a job without having breakdowns. I don't like it. And I have an idea of what to do..
But basically the way the system works is the system won't help you if you don't help yourself, but you're nothing but a number, an expected normality that is believed to be the same as everyone else. The whole thing stinks, and I don't know what to do about it.
My patience for people is at an end, because dealing with the number of homeless youth I see every day, my "peers" in the eyes of Janus, is like having a 24/7 customer service job. And I'm already burned out on it.. I have to leave the day programs right after eating or else a panic attack comes on or I start flipping out at people for being stupid, rude, and immature to each other. I have ended up pacing back and forth across the floor while listening to Korn on my mp3 player from the days of money to avoid punching idiots at shelter. The only thing that helps is this blog, and that's not even a stable commodity. All I can say is FFFFF.
Sadly and terrifyingly, in some ways this is very true. It's not because the system really DOES have some huge tall skinny white guy named Uncle Sam behind it, the thing that's really scary is that it has done so on its own, with slight help from the people who have the capability to change even small rules and regulations.
The example I'll be using is the homeless youth system of shelters and day programs etc. I live in Portland, Oregon. I'm an observer of such things as human behavior patterns, systems that work and are broken and are all interwoven, and society in general.
Where to begin... That's always the problem with me. By the time I get to typing about it I'm already so annoyed that I don't even know where to start. My fury drives me on. I will however try my best to describe. I see things as images half the time in my mind, and the system is like a huge conglomerate puzzle-like factory that has been blown up, shattered, and pieced back together in a very fragmented and jumbled way that still has pieces inside moving so badly that even common passersby know it doesn't work.
But it's scary to even contemplate fixing it because the general problem is you have NO CLUE where to start. We are raised in this society to believe two things that are polar against each other- That our voice and our vote matters, and that in reality we are only one vote. That vote doesn't matter against the majority.
I won't coddle you or pet you with a feather, it's true. The system is broken, and there's not much you can do to fix it. Quite honestly, in my observation, given its current status, and this does sadden me, I don't think it CAN be saved. I believe this is one of those times where you have to destroy something for it to be fixed because you have to start from the ground up. And no, I don't have any plans to destroy it. I don't think I will need to, but that's another story for either later today or perhaps tomorrow...
Right now I'm going to get personal. Honestly, I have social anxiety disorder. Pills are not nor will they ever be the answer- yet again, another topic. My brain likes to go on tangents, I'm trying to keep it in check. Having social anxiety disorder, and being a deeper thinker than everyone you're around 24 hours a day 7 days a week is extremely frustrating in the long run. I pride myself on my self control. I truly do. If it wasn't for my sheer ability to keep my anger in, I probably would have hit someone before now out of pure frustration.
The system is broken. I can understand the logic at the core, how it should work, but it's been broken by people abusing it. It's tragic, but true. The system is broken because the people are broken, and more people are breaking because the broken system is rolling right over them, leaving shrapnel in their back.
I guess I will start from the beginning of my story(ish). My third day out here, I met a very interesting guy who had seen me several times in two days. I say interesting because he must have had 30 piercings and tattoos on his face, was very tall and skinny, obviously a drug addict, and apparently seemed protective of me. He was very intoxicated and in retrospect probably higher than some clouds, and was insistent to a girl he knew that "I GET SOMEWHERE SAFE!"
I'm 5'4 and 120 lb. It was very sweet, if slightly disturbing at the time. The girl was a pretty cool girl I've only seen twice since. She's probably long left Portland. She brought me to Porchlight. Ahh, Porchlight..
That's what got me started to where I am now. I found out that there was an emergency crisis center, and she brought me there and made sure I'd get up that night. I got upstairs, met my best friend who I had seen earlier in the day, and the next morning talked to one of the people who ran the place at 9 the next morning about my situation.
Porchlight is the crappier version of Streetlight, where I am staying now. In Porchlight you have a couple more freedoms- you can come in up until 6 am or leave when you arrive after eating without using any credits, and you only have 15 nights you are allowed to stay there.
Talking to the guy, I found out that according to the law, I have been considered homeless or at risk for homelessness for approximately 3 years. So, I was eligible for the program that Porchlight was part of- the Janus Youth Continuum.
They sent me to OI and I was then confused. I waited for about a week or two for a caseworker and began to realize a few things. One, sleeping on those mats is basically the same as sleeping on concrete, two there are bugs, three, half the people there are addicts, convicts, or otherwise creepy people you should stay away from, and there is NO stability. Finally though a week later I got a caseworker and a week after that I managed to get on the streetlight list to get upstairs.
That is where I have been for the last 2 months. Upstairs of Porchlight. It's a more stable shelter where you can stay as long as you follow the rules, do their little chores, etc. There are slightly better mattresses, you can clean your clothes, you can go to the clothing closet once a week and you have a locker.
However, the people upstairs were also once in Porchlight, not all of them were interested in bettering themselves. Finding underwear on the floor, toilets not flushed, stuff in the bathroom and showers, and having really rude people sharing a room with you is something you have to get used to.
Now we get into more personal stuff. Getting back to the social anxiety disorder, I get fidgety in crowds in tight spaces. Understandable, the main problem is the noise. It's very chaotic. I grew up as an only child and my parents were either ignoring me or screaming at me/trying to convince me to do something they wanted me to. (Don't get me wrong, I love them now as much as I can.) I never had my own room growing up, I grew up poor. Or rather when I was with my mom I had a room but there was no lock. No privacy.
Until this happened I had two jobs, I had an apartment, I had everything. Sure, it was a motel room, but it was MY place. But what happened was because of the social anxiety I was having a harder time at both jobs, and long story short now I need to find more data entry type work.
Now I am living in a bunk bed in a shared room with at least one other person with two bunk beds and 2 sets of lockers squeezed into it. No matter where I go in shelter, I am not allowed to leave, and there is no privacy. If you don't lock the bathroom door, even if your feet are obviously showing in the space between the door and the floor, people will try to open it because they are so self absorbed in their own little lives they don't think about it. They whine about having to wait three seconds for you to wipe and flush. They are solely interested in themselves and most of the time not even in helping themselves out of the situation.
In some ways I do understand why. When life kicks you in the face enough times eventually you just expect it and give up. I don't know what you can do for those people, and it bothers me.
I've almost gotten to that point myself, because I feel trapped and confused. Everywhere you hear "GET A JOB and get out of there then!" Like it's so simple as just walking into a place and coming out with a job in this economy. Like it's simple to do when you have to struggle to find decent interview clothes and have to share one iron with 60 people.
I can't concentrate anymore, unless I have a computer in front of me. I have a panic attack every day, sometimes as many as six and unless I get a job I can't get into trans housing, but if I get a job I won't really need trans housing because I can get a place. What I need is stability, a door on a room that I can shut the world out with to be able to get and maintain a job without having breakdowns. I don't like it. And I have an idea of what to do..
But basically the way the system works is the system won't help you if you don't help yourself, but you're nothing but a number, an expected normality that is believed to be the same as everyone else. The whole thing stinks, and I don't know what to do about it.
My patience for people is at an end, because dealing with the number of homeless youth I see every day, my "peers" in the eyes of Janus, is like having a 24/7 customer service job. And I'm already burned out on it.. I have to leave the day programs right after eating or else a panic attack comes on or I start flipping out at people for being stupid, rude, and immature to each other. I have ended up pacing back and forth across the floor while listening to Korn on my mp3 player from the days of money to avoid punching idiots at shelter. The only thing that helps is this blog, and that's not even a stable commodity. All I can say is FFFFF.
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