"I want to inspire people. I want someone to look at me and say, "Because of you, I didn’t give up.” ♥
Another Update. (Sorry it’s long, but this is a detailed explanation for my absence and lack of art. Please, for fucks sake, stop reminding me I owe you art or owe you anything. Have some humanity. I’m writing this so people KNOW and understand what I’m going through. Yes, this is personal. Beyond personal. I trust you guys, not to judge. If you have the nerve to even remotely judge me for any of this, you're disgusting and I hope someone flattens you with a semi on your way to work/school.)
Horrible, fucking god awful news was brought to my attention two days ago, by my mom. She found this out 2 days before she told me. Our Landlord’s Realtor company is suing us, for $1,600. FOR FUCKING LATE FEE’S ON RENT. Rent is due on the 1st, as is everyone’s. My mom gets her monthly disability check on the 3rd of every month. That is not in her control. She can’t alter that. They can’t even be kind enough to fucking bend on their rigid ass rules. It’s $8 a day, for late fee’s. Thanks to that, and being sued, and being brought to court- It all adds up to $2,800. How the fuck? That amount isn’t even close to right. We have section 8, which pays for a bare minimum of our rent. Our rent is $900. My mom brings in $800 a month. Section 8 pays $600, because thanks to their sudden rule changes after we moved here and had no fucking choice, we had to lie to them and say the rent is $700. My mom and I didn’t qualify for a two bedroom when we got here. We did in California, and we would have in Arizona, but the section 8 of AZ’s website said we could. When we moved here, they told us things were changed and they hadn’t updated their website yet. SO, we’re stuck here for a year. To suffer with fucking money and rent every goddamn month, we’re short of $400. We had to get an illegally signed second lease just to stay here. The guy at the realtor company HELPED us get it. SO IN SHORTER EXPLANATION, the prick suing my mom has the amount completely wrong. He isn’t including documentation of section 8’s payments. Which is fucking wrong. Because if my mom loses her section 8 (great chance she will, which I hate admitting but if a miracle happens and changes that… idek anymore) we are completely and utterly fucked. We don’t bring in enough to survive here, or anywhere for that matter. It would take her 5 years to reapply. OH AND NOT TO MENTION, they gave us 5 days to pay that amount up front or we’re getting evicted! No small payments. Nothing. So more than likely in less than two months, we’ll be homeless and either shacking up with someone or god knows where. I don’t want to think about it. It scares me. She’s been doing everything she can, on top of having disability. She suffers from Lupus, an immune system diagnosis, and severe Bipolar disorder. She suffers from god awful seizures, though she hasn’t had any in 3 years (thank god). I’m so terrified that she’ll have one any day now. This stress, this life, everything, is killing my mom. It’s cutting her lifespan by so much. I see her aging too quickly, her health is being ruined, her mental state is shot. Yet she still tries. She tries to find work. She’s written in so many applications, none have replied. She gets some cleaning jobs, two of which were big paying and she worked her ass off, refused to pay her for her week’s worth. One tried to sexually assault her. I’ve filled some applications, too. However, it’s hard. It’s hard for her. It’s hard for me. I can’t drive, I don’t know how to. I can’t even begin to try, because of my neck and torticollis, turning my head back to see if anyone is behind me in a car is BEYOND UNLIKELY AND DANGEROUS FOR MY SAKE. On fucking top of all the pain I’ve been enduring, and depression, because I can’t draw – this happens. This, fucking, shit, happens. Our cable and internet was cut off a week ago. So, I don’t have any internet on my laptop. My phone internet is slow as fucking shit. I managed to tether the internet front my moms phone to my laptop, but it stopped working. Just now, an hour ago, it stopped. Which is why I’m venting and why I’m upset and every other fucking thing. We have no money to our name. I’m having to sell personal items from my mom, that she never wanted me to sell because I’ll never be able to replace them, just to make enough money to put on our electricity box which we’re fortunate enough to get by on $5 a day without our power being shut off. We were hoping that my Grandfather would help us pay this off. He’s been helping us for years. Bless him. I love this man, but when we needed him the most, he turned us down. He told me to get rid of my two, small dogs, because “if we didn’t have to buy dog food, we’d be able to buy money for power.” THEY COST US NOTHING. They barely go to the vet. They get a massive bag of dog food every other month, that lasts us forever. They barely get groomed. I take poor care of my dogs, compared to wealthy people that can give them monthly vet visits or get them groomed on a weekly basis. It doesn’t mean I don’t love my dogs. I would sell my body on the street before ever considering rehoming my dogs to someone that doesn’t know them. Please do not share harsh comments about this. I’m venting. I’m not asking for insults. I take great care of my dogs none the less, as best as I know how to. Things weren’t this financially fucked a few years ago. We’ve always struggled, but not like this. My grandpa lives 3 hours away, in a 3 bedroom house. He didn’t offer for us to stay with him incase we have to be evicted. He just said, “let me know when you have to move and I’ll come up and help”. Gee, thanks a whole fucking lot.
To add another fucking thing, three years ago my mom got her disability settlement. It went fast. Family, friends, sucked it out of her. We barely got anything out of it, except for her 2008 Nissan. When we were living with my aunt last year because our old hag of a landlord evicted us because we wouldn’t pay for plumbing, my mom had to get a loan on her car to move us, otherwise she would have lost her section 8 and we’d be completely homeless. That loan ruined us. $50 a day in interest fee’s. A few months ago, we had no choice but to sell it for what we could. We got a Jeep, outdated but it was nice and we felt good about that. She unfortunately had to make payments, that was her only option. But anyway, she figured she’d have a job by now. We both figured we’d have a job by now. It’s not easy. Her payments went from $250 a month, which she could handle, to $350. Out of bound. She’s so many payments behind now, and any day now they’ll be out to repo the only fucking vehicle we have.
The drama with my pain lately and loss of feeling, has come to a relief, in a way (not pain wise, diagnosis wise). I don’t have nerve damage. Thank god. I don’t have a pinched nerve. My spinal muscles are beyond ruined, and tight, they’re applying painful tension and stress to my spinal cord and nerves, which is causing the loss of feeling and numbness and cold limbs. I finally startled Physical Therapy. The therapist was beyond stunned by my condition. He understood how everyday activities are so hard for me. How depressing it is I can’t draw. I’ve been trying to draw, here and there, small sketches. It KILLS my hand. But I’m trying. I’m fucking trying. I’m still in pain, everyday.
That is why I can’t draw right now. That is why I can’t be online right now. This is why my commissions aren’t open, why my art trades aren’t open, why I have yet to get to gifts, outdated trades, and whatever else I fucking owe. I’ve had not just one, but one too MANY people remind me about what I owe them art wise. They say, “I’ve read your journals” – Have you? Do you know what I’m going through? Do you understand the utterly exhausting and humiliating pain I go through everyday? Sleeping is something I can’t do. I can’t lay down to watch a movie and relax. I sure as fuck can’t draw. Drawing is my life. It’s my air. And over the past three months, I’ve been deprived of air. It feels like I’m on a god forsaken breathing ventilator. I feel sucked of every last bit of hope and energy I had left in me to live anymore. I’m depressed. I think about suicide on a daily, hourly, nightly basis. It used to scare me. It used to terrify me. I used to think, “this isn’t normal. People don’t think about ending their life this often”. It’s become such a regular thing for me now, I don’t think of it as scary. I think of it as comforting, as an almost solution. Yes, I have potential in going somewhere with my life. Yes, I consider myself a decent, kind-hearted person. I have my flaws, as does everyone. But I know for a fucking fact, I’m a better person than most self absorbed, dishonest, and filthy people I’ve had in my life that have fucked me over time and time again, THAT INCLUDES FAMILY. But when you’ve been dealing with so much shit, so much misery, so much pain and traumatizing events majority of your life… you wonder, why the fuck do I even bother if things are just getting harder and more exhausting for me? I’m not saying I’m going to commit suicide. I’m honestly too fucking scared to even try to do it. I won’t bail on my mom, or my dogs. But I think about it often. I think how much easier it would be. That’s me being honest, sharing my feelings and perspective. Please, for christs sake, do not comment this and throw “PLEASE DON’T KILL YOURSELF!” or “SUICIDE IS SELFISH!” I’m not going to, nor will I ever. I never talk about it, which is dangerous, yeah. But I am now. I’m not asking for opinions on it, please, don’t tell me they have medications for it and that I need help. I live with a mentally and physically disabled mother, who’s tried to OD and slit her own wrists, who’s held a fucking knife to my chest before during an argument. Suicide is not going to win, or kick my ass. I’m stronger than that. I’m beaten, broken, and trying to fix my own wing as best as I know how to.
If you’ve read this much, thank you.
I just wanted people to understand and know what’s going on.
I know a lot of people have said, “if you ever need someone to talk to, please message me”. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. But, messaging someone directly and venting about my problems makes me feel like a complete burden. Because I know everyone is dealing with something, everyone has their own problems. How are mine different? Everyone is dealing with something. So posting personal vent journals, helps me more rather than messaging someone directly. Because in a way, I am messaging someone directly for words of encouragement and understanding. I’m talking to all of you. Because you guys mean a lot to me, and if I didn’t have your support, I don’t know who or where I’d be right now.
