I stand where I am largely because I put myself here. Just largely. I have been listening for quite some time now about how I actually “owed” money that was taken from me. That is fair. If what I did caused financial difficulties for someone else, I would owe them for that. I paid as best I could, albeit unknowingly, but I’ve paid financially and emotionally. The degree in which family has shielded Bootsie from guilt has told me, since Borger, that I am no longer wanted in any way by my family. They started small, by pointing to my slovenly ways and telling me that I stink or pee in bathroom floors, which I probably did. Who was telling me these things tells me that Bootsie herself had implanted just those very things that she always took offense to into the minds of my siblings. The negativity that was created through this ordeal led directly to yet more losses of friends and peripheral family. My attempts to inform peripherals of the much extra problems that I have to deal with led to attacks on me. Paige, in particular, told me several times that there would be “no way” that Dad, Andy, Kyja or even Jake would hear one word of anything I might say to protect myself in the manner that Paige says she has to protect herself due to my aggressive posts.
This has all seemed obvious to me for quite some time, beginning with the way Andy would use Bootsie like statements in referring to my sloppiness, stench or for whatever stupid reason my sexual preference. Andy is not dating a good person, and any ability that Reef Road might have to further exploit her unfriendly ways was quickly used. Sherri’s attempts to put herself in good familial graces was met with the kind of acceptance that this disabled family member all too often never received. I hit Borger with a countdown on to either get a new apartment or, at least, find a hotel to stay in for a coming Andy vacation. Andy has good money and was willing to store me for a week or so on Reef Road. I didn’t much like that idea but accepted it as probably best. Bootsie said “all the negativity surrounding me would come back to the surface” in a brief week or two stay again on Reef. I accepted that. Before 2 months had passed on Minnesota Street, I had gotten a new apartment over on Waverly Street. I moved into that apartment with the help of Sherri and her mother on a day that I thought was a day early and had been expecting Andy to take a day off of work to help me through that process. The very tangible losses incurred by me in that impromptu move led to a paid for passport not being able to be received and possibly a broken WIFI connection on the computer. With that, I got frustration and yet more bills to pay.
I could reiterate the long string of problems that I’ve had since my Reef Road departure, but that would be redundant. I could talk about the myriad of constant of issues that I’ve had seemingly every step of this way, but the inclination to do that would also be redundant. I wasn’t going to stay in Borger for 10 more months. It is possible that I might not have lived there for 10 more months. It is possible that my alcoholic ways might have found a way to resurface in the way that too much apprehension about my less than agreeable ways were consistently dangled as a threat to those who would do their familial job. I wound up in the home of some kind of Trump loving, pot smoking, Jesus freak. Both the Jesus and Trump thing threatened to blow that up fairly quickly, but the Jesus thing got me institutionalized at Ridge View. My need to live like I prefer to live, with internet and an ability to share my thoughts, put me on the street. I am now living in a mostly unhealthy situation in Conyers Georgia. The go-between person called me yesterday to complain that I had not paid my rent on the 3rd as that person that receives a cut of my rent payment each month. I had discussed with the actual landlord that I would pay rent on the 5th of each month, so I got through with the landlord. Things like that remind me that safer looking places can always yield unexpected results. I know this too well with my history.
I don’t know how long I will be here. 11 is a high number on my apartment list, but I can’t really see that changing in at least 18 months. I do think I know how to get through this next stage, but I do know that there will be unexpected results. Those results could be good or could be bad, but they shouldn’t be too much worse than when I was preparing myself to live in the woods after Ridge View. I lived through some threatening times and through some threatening people (Andy in particular). I keep my eye out everywhere I ride for a place or two that I might could sleep for a couple of days if I had to. Electricity and things that use electricity would be a huge concern if that were to come to pass. I am only slightly hesitant to admit the future to be as foreboding as it could be and give those that so eagerly root against me what they might consider as a hope to see me completely fail and just give up. Just giving up is something that I’ve rarely done. I won’t do it now. I’ve still got some writing to do.