A friend told me to write, because I said I was sad, but couldn't find words to tell them what was going on.
I just read, over the course of a couple days, a few heart wrenching news stories.
On top of this I am dealing with PTSD from childhood family trauma which I will not discuss here.
A few weeks ago, we saw a woman possibly drugged and kidnapped, just over the bridge from where I live.
And then there were fires all up and down the waterfront. And another fire along the freeway. All set by fentanyl addicted arsonists. A bridge near my home that I cross almost every day has warped trusses from the arson.
Whilst waiting for surgery a couple weeks ago, a crazy woman walked into the medical center and threatened to kill people. It was frightening. My maternal nature and adrenaline went up and I confronted her. I was in real danger. When I came out of the over one hour surgery, I was escorted out to my ride, because the lady was holed up in the bathroom on the first floor. All of the patients who were waiting for procedures were sitting up on the second floor, to be routed away from the madwoman.
And then the other day, I got into a row with a homeless, intoxicated man, a recent transplant. One of the folks that other cities send here, with a one way bus ticket. Called me all kinds of slurs. My daughter was right there and I had to, several times, hold her back from attacking him for disrespecting her mother.
The reason he was so violent? Our local library is nearly 120 years old. Surrounding the library is a low stone wall, carved with ornate filagree stonework. It is a local treasure. There are cherubs, dragons, books carved intricately into the wall. It is in a constant state of restoration. It has been known for decades by locals that one should never sit on that wall. You can even get a ticket for doing so.
The tweaker was sprawled out, sitting on top of it. Library staff had asked him to get off. He was taunting them. I also asked him to leave. Unlike the library staff, I did not cower at his taunts or threats. I went mom on him, redirecting his attention, until more persuasive authorities arrived.
The security guard came. A freaking old lady. She asked him nicely. He did not respond in a gentle fashion. The elderly woman did nothing, because she could not.
Confession: This felt really good. He had a southern accent. I used to live on the Gulf Coast. Southern states are known to send their most dirtbaggiest homeless on a one way bus trip to my city, where we have more services. While he was insulting me, I was unfazed. He was so high he was just throwing out random insults and threats. I then asked him, "So you're one of those lowlives that got thrown out of the South? Shame on you. I'm sure your mother is very proud of you."
I insulted his worth as a Southern man, and his worthiness in his mother's eyes. That actually got his attention. "Thrown out of the South?" Now he was mad. He stood up off the wall, offended. I smiled a little inside.
And then like maybe the next day, my brother had court and nearly got released from jail. That was an adrenal rollercoaster. My mother, daughter, and I would have been in serious danger.
And then there is an issue with a relative, which I would rather not speak of here. Having to do with childhood pain. This is causing images of all sorts of trauma to flash in front of my eyes. That is actually a major issue. I forgive. But the little girl inside of me still is shivering in fear and loneliness.
I've been harassed a lot by homeless fentanyl addicts and tweakers lately. It's become part of my normal routine. These criddlers are so dangerous. But they seem to have more rights than regular citizens.
Today I had to wait for transit and also shop in a really bad area, where nearly every store front and home is empty because of the riots a couple years ago. Zombies in packs looking at normies like they can't wait to rob them.
I was looked up and down by many homeless men. Eyes focusing on my purse. I told myself over and over in my head "This wheelchair is a weapon. Just keep moving. This wheelchair is a weapon. Don't stop for a moment until you're indoors."
And once in the mall, there was a homeless lady sprawled out on the elevator floor. She looked up at me, irritated and confused, as if to ask "What are you doing here? Can't you see i'm busy?" I stalled for a little while and checked back. She was gone, but the elevator floor was filthy.
I went over to Dollar Tree and as I was shopping, I was maybe the only sober person in the place, including the cashiers. There were people openly stealing, walking around like zombies. I looked out the window. There were a group of men, smoking fentanyl off of foil.
I paid for my groceries and once again repeated over and over "My wheelchair is a weapon. Keep moving. Do not stop."
I was at way down the street from the bus stop. And praise the Lord, the driver waited for me. I got on that bus and went straight home.
Flehhhhhhhhhhghghghghghghgh.
********
And world events aren't all that peachy either.
In the news, an assassination attempt on a former president/ candidate. That was really scary.
The current president seems to be not only stepping down from the election, but the vice president seems to be filling his shoes. I am confused.
And I just read that there was a terrible bombing in the Golan Heights where twelve children died. I know two families with littlest children who live in that area. I had to scramble to find out if they were alright. They are far from the bombing. But still I am afraid for them.
********
And then in the local news, reading heart wrenching stories that happened right near my home:
A woman was walking by a homeless camp near where I live, and was mauled by dogs. She lost and ear, an arm, and an eye.
And then a couple days later, an only hours old newborn baby was found dead in some bushes, near a homeless camp where I live. There's a lot of drama with that one. Possible foul play. Makes me so very depressed. A little baby. A newborn.
God I hate fentanyl! (Crying out to The Lord right there)
My daughter just told me that yet another junkie overdosed and died in the bathroom where she works. Her kiosk is right near to the customer bathroom, so she sees it all.
And then I read about a little six year old boy who was mauled to death by dogs. So sad.
********
And to top everything off, my father passed away a few months ago.
********
I'm trying so hard to be happy. To remember all my blessings. To keep busy. To be creative.
I only get depressed about real life things. My baseline is joy. But when sad things happen, I feel it so intensely, like a knife in the heart.
I have a couple people in my life that bring me such happiness. And any hard day is flipped right side up.
But a newborn died alone on Friday, covered in dirt and leaves.
A homeless man from the camp saw a tweaker pacing and ranting something about it, and concerned, he went and looked. The baby was deceased. Only a few hours old. He took his blanket and covered the baby and went for help.
How sad. I have held a precious newborn in my arms. Seen the vulnerability. A baby was thrown in the bushes and died alone.
That's the icing on the cake of the fentanyl crisis, and the dysfunction in our city.
I can't help but cry for that baby. I am up in the night, weaving in honor of her short little life.
I just read, over the course of a couple days, a few heart wrenching news stories.
On top of this I am dealing with PTSD from childhood family trauma which I will not discuss here.
A few weeks ago, we saw a woman possibly drugged and kidnapped, just over the bridge from where I live.
And then there were fires all up and down the waterfront. And another fire along the freeway. All set by fentanyl addicted arsonists. A bridge near my home that I cross almost every day has warped trusses from the arson.
Whilst waiting for surgery a couple weeks ago, a crazy woman walked into the medical center and threatened to kill people. It was frightening. My maternal nature and adrenaline went up and I confronted her. I was in real danger. When I came out of the over one hour surgery, I was escorted out to my ride, because the lady was holed up in the bathroom on the first floor. All of the patients who were waiting for procedures were sitting up on the second floor, to be routed away from the madwoman.
And then the other day, I got into a row with a homeless, intoxicated man, a recent transplant. One of the folks that other cities send here, with a one way bus ticket. Called me all kinds of slurs. My daughter was right there and I had to, several times, hold her back from attacking him for disrespecting her mother.
The reason he was so violent? Our local library is nearly 120 years old. Surrounding the library is a low stone wall, carved with ornate filagree stonework. It is a local treasure. There are cherubs, dragons, books carved intricately into the wall. It is in a constant state of restoration. It has been known for decades by locals that one should never sit on that wall. You can even get a ticket for doing so.
The tweaker was sprawled out, sitting on top of it. Library staff had asked him to get off. He was taunting them. I also asked him to leave. Unlike the library staff, I did not cower at his taunts or threats. I went mom on him, redirecting his attention, until more persuasive authorities arrived.
The security guard came. A freaking old lady. She asked him nicely. He did not respond in a gentle fashion. The elderly woman did nothing, because she could not.
Confession: This felt really good. He had a southern accent. I used to live on the Gulf Coast. Southern states are known to send their most dirtbaggiest homeless on a one way bus trip to my city, where we have more services. While he was insulting me, I was unfazed. He was so high he was just throwing out random insults and threats. I then asked him, "So you're one of those lowlives that got thrown out of the South? Shame on you. I'm sure your mother is very proud of you."
I insulted his worth as a Southern man, and his worthiness in his mother's eyes. That actually got his attention. "Thrown out of the South?" Now he was mad. He stood up off the wall, offended. I smiled a little inside.
And then like maybe the next day, my brother had court and nearly got released from jail. That was an adrenal rollercoaster. My mother, daughter, and I would have been in serious danger.
And then there is an issue with a relative, which I would rather not speak of here. Having to do with childhood pain. This is causing images of all sorts of trauma to flash in front of my eyes. That is actually a major issue. I forgive. But the little girl inside of me still is shivering in fear and loneliness.
I've been harassed a lot by homeless fentanyl addicts and tweakers lately. It's become part of my normal routine. These criddlers are so dangerous. But they seem to have more rights than regular citizens.
Today I had to wait for transit and also shop in a really bad area, where nearly every store front and home is empty because of the riots a couple years ago. Zombies in packs looking at normies like they can't wait to rob them.
I was looked up and down by many homeless men. Eyes focusing on my purse. I told myself over and over in my head "This wheelchair is a weapon. Just keep moving. This wheelchair is a weapon. Don't stop for a moment until you're indoors."
And once in the mall, there was a homeless lady sprawled out on the elevator floor. She looked up at me, irritated and confused, as if to ask "What are you doing here? Can't you see i'm busy?" I stalled for a little while and checked back. She was gone, but the elevator floor was filthy.
I went over to Dollar Tree and as I was shopping, I was maybe the only sober person in the place, including the cashiers. There were people openly stealing, walking around like zombies. I looked out the window. There were a group of men, smoking fentanyl off of foil.
I paid for my groceries and once again repeated over and over "My wheelchair is a weapon. Keep moving. Do not stop."
I was at way down the street from the bus stop. And praise the Lord, the driver waited for me. I got on that bus and went straight home.
Flehhhhhhhhhhghghghghghghgh.
********
And world events aren't all that peachy either.
In the news, an assassination attempt on a former president/ candidate. That was really scary.
The current president seems to be not only stepping down from the election, but the vice president seems to be filling his shoes. I am confused.
And I just read that there was a terrible bombing in the Golan Heights where twelve children died. I know two families with littlest children who live in that area. I had to scramble to find out if they were alright. They are far from the bombing. But still I am afraid for them.
********
And then in the local news, reading heart wrenching stories that happened right near my home:
A woman was walking by a homeless camp near where I live, and was mauled by dogs. She lost and ear, an arm, and an eye.
And then a couple days later, an only hours old newborn baby was found dead in some bushes, near a homeless camp where I live. There's a lot of drama with that one. Possible foul play. Makes me so very depressed. A little baby. A newborn.
God I hate fentanyl! (Crying out to The Lord right there)
My daughter just told me that yet another junkie overdosed and died in the bathroom where she works. Her kiosk is right near to the customer bathroom, so she sees it all.
And then I read about a little six year old boy who was mauled to death by dogs. So sad.
********
And to top everything off, my father passed away a few months ago.
********
I'm trying so hard to be happy. To remember all my blessings. To keep busy. To be creative.
I only get depressed about real life things. My baseline is joy. But when sad things happen, I feel it so intensely, like a knife in the heart.
I have a couple people in my life that bring me such happiness. And any hard day is flipped right side up.
But a newborn died alone on Friday, covered in dirt and leaves.
A homeless man from the camp saw a tweaker pacing and ranting something about it, and concerned, he went and looked. The baby was deceased. Only a few hours old. He took his blanket and covered the baby and went for help.
How sad. I have held a precious newborn in my arms. Seen the vulnerability. A baby was thrown in the bushes and died alone.
That's the icing on the cake of the fentanyl crisis, and the dysfunction in our city.
I can't help but cry for that baby. I am up in the night, weaving in honor of her short little life.
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