Honestly, this is so overwhelming. It is coming at me from all sides. Where is the help I need? Or is this just *another* life situation that I'm required to struggle through on my own?
There comes a time when the cumulative stresses erode your ability to respond. Yes, it is always a matter of taking simple steps, one at a time, but some of those steps require a degree of clear thinking which is difficult to attain once that ongoing baseline of stress is exceeded. Throw in a mountain of bureaucratic ineptitude and an ongoing state of physical injury (as yet not adequately treated or healed) and is it any wonder that it becomes overwhelming?
Yes, I have spent several days in bed during the last week. At least it's safe in there. I can gaze into the ocean of anguish that swirls and lashes me from within without being consumed by it. But what is consumed is my time, my responsiveness, my ability to fight the battles on the many fronts that approach me. Should the parties responsible for the hazard that injured me assist my healing by paying for my medical and rehabilitation expenses? Yes, absolutely. Should the parties that abused me for a decade be made accountable for that abuse, rather than robbing me of an inheritance and discarding the precious treasures that belonged to the safe corners of my childhood? Of course. Should I be allowed to continue to lawfully drive when I have submitted my medical certificate in a timely manner to the relevant transport authority, without having to fight the bureaucratic idiocy that has failed to receive the documentation I provided to it? Yes. Totally. So how many fights and how many forms and how many circular fucking telephone calls will it take to permit any of these to occur?
Yes. This is how it is. Some (the abuser) are so wrapped up by the protections of their stolen wealth and their lifetime of lies and the assistance of unconscionable, slithering, immoral lawyers that I have little recourse to any further action. Others (the compensation) will likely make me pay in days of my life spent fighting for something that should properly be made easy. And others, well, how many cranky letters will it take before they finally admit their error, reinstate my licence and amend the misleading wording on their letters and their online document submission portal that communicated to me, precisely, that the documents I had submitted had been received as required? And I don't particularly care how many times they repeat this error, it will remain their error, not mine. And yet it will fall to me to fight it with my words and my time and my stress and my loss of peace of mind.
I do not accept this is the price I must pay to exist in society. I do not accept that the errors of others that fall onto me become my problems to resolve. I do not accept that the woman who whipped me, who slapped me in public so hard that my eardrum burst, who denied me adequate food and clothing, who harangued me for hours on end and required me to report to her every mouthful of food I ate, every action I took during the day, every thought I had, even every prayer I made, and always found a reason to punish me for them, should now be allowed to throw away my mother's things. Or rather, be permitted to lie about throwing away my mother's things and continue to live peacefully in her little house, surrounded by those things that belonged to my mother, my grandparents, even me, and never ever have to be confronted by her crimes. I do not accept that a woman like her should be supported to exist peacefully in society when I am confronted with battles on all sides, merely to have the most basic considerations made for my essential needs. More than anything it is the colossal injustice of that woman's recent actions towards me on top of a lifetime of her many injuries to me and the theft of my childhood repeated in the more recent theft of my childhood's things, that make my fall, my loss of mobility and now even my means of transportation, unbearable.
So, if you are a friend of mine, and you are reading this, please be a friend of mine to me now. I am not able to readily speak about these recent pains, because each word stirs the surface of that ocean which I work so hard to keep undisturbed. But if you are a friend of me, please reach out, and be a friend to me with your words and your deeds in my hour of need. I am not likely to be going to lumber through these challenges with any kind of poise or grace (after all, I have braces on my ankles and my gait is slow and cumbersome). But maybe with a little kindness, I might find my way through them a little more readily.
No comments:
Post a Comment