I'm going to describe something to you guys the best that I can, in hopes that people at least are more understanding or someone may KNOW what I'm talking about.
It's been an issue since I lived in that apartment in Wilsonville, the really tiny one with all the mold? Allow me to attempt to explain.
When I sleep and am woken up ineffectively- that is, I am woken up but not ALERT, it sort of piles up. It happens occasionally and is beginning to happen more frequently and I'm getting worried. Hell, maybe I should try using an example.
Example 1: Last night.
I went to sleep with a slightly dry mouth and kept getting "woken up" by Jason. When I'm asleep, if someone drops their arm over me, or nudges into me, etc, it will "wake me up". And not in a good way, I get bitchy about it. In this state I am sleep deprived so I tend to come off as whiny because I'm really annoyed and unhappy and just want sleep. That is my primal thought at this phase. However, when I keep getting woken up, I am conscious enough to realize that for example, Jason was waking me up in HIS sleep so I had to wake him up so he would stop talking to himself and moaning and inadvertantly elbowing me in his sleep. He got bitchy at me and while he was actually awake said something about "When you want to fix our marriage, let me know". In that state, that's not gonna sink in, bad idea. I just laughed in a dark way and said I just want some fucking SLEEP. Note, at this point I had been "woken up" every half hour for the past 3 hours. It was 4 am. I remember saying something to Jason who kept insisting on having a conversation with me to shut up because I didn't want to wake up Taby and Jake.
Now.. Okay. I *think* what the issue here is is that my brain gets stuck in between "the real world" and "the dream" in this nightmare phase. I even tried explaining it to Jason last night what the "dream nightmare world" was in an attempt to explain that I think there's a serious problem and he just laughed at me.
It's terrifying BECAUSE It's so simple and so real. When I am in that state, the dream is real to me and I'm trapped in it even when I'm awake and talking to you. I might be able to do some shit like go to the bathroom or shake you awake or answer questions, but nothing cuts through. Nothing. It's generally the same dream feeling too, the same general idea.. Being trapped and overwhelmed with SOMETHING. Last night it was cake.
No... Really. The entire world in my dream, at least where I was, was filled with cake. It wasn't organized, just.. mixed together. Everywhere. I had a dry mouth and couldn't get rid of it, even though I tried. The walls were cake, the ceiling was cake, everything was cake. It wasn't the cake necessarily that was terrifying, it was the fact that I couldn't make it go away. I couldn't wake myself up even when talking to Jason, it was still there in my head, I still felt like I was surrounded by it. In the end the only thing that woke me up at all was when Jason turned the light on and pitched a bitch fit about me being bitchy about him taking the blanket.
This isn't the only time it happened. What worries me is that in this state I am not myself. In one of these in NY when I was living with ex roommates, one of whom was a cutter, I almost self mutilated. Which for anyone who knows me is extremely, extremely odd. That was a waking one, I wrote on a piece of paper all kinds of crazy shit and in different angles etc and in the center was FIND THE SQUARE. The only thing that I could focus on was finding the square, and I couldn't find one so I almost cut a square into my arm so I'd always have it. -_-
Now, you tell me cake isn't fucking creepy.
In all seriousness though, that really scares me. I'm going to attempt to go back to sleep for a little bit. I'll expand on this later.
Showing posts with label trapped. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trapped. Show all posts
Monday, July 25, 2011
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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