We met in the bar I said I was 57 she said she was 26...I said I still live with my mom & dad in my basement suite and I have a small fridge by my bed with beer and snacks...she said no....am I ugly?....I still go to church so I'm a nice man.
When your young child is diagnosed with a disability or a severe learning disorder, or both, you grieve. It is an exquisitely painful grief. The heart is wrenched and torn in directions you didn't know were possible. You rage, and you bargain, and you at once curse the gods you deny exist while begging the same for impossible deals. There are no atheists in pediatricians’ offices. You may negotiate for your little one’s normalcy in exchange, for instance, ten years off the end of your life span, maybe twenty, or the failure of the left kidney. You would give up your eyesight in a heartbeat if it would help them, or even your life. In your irrational, unhinged and ungovernable agony, these do indeed seem like the kinds of cruelly irrelevant and useless things human-invented deities would gleefully take in exchange for the good of The Child.
However, in time you realize that you are not grieving for The Child, you are grieving for yourself, and specifically, what your expectations of what you imagined your life and The Child’s life was going to be. They were going to attend UBC of course! They would major in biology, or better yet… chemistry? Maybe computer science.
No. The Child will never even speak. You will never even hear them say “I love you, Daddy.”
You go on though, and you make it through every day, often hour by hour or even minute to minute, because you have no choice, and because it is what you do. And every tick of the second hand is another victory chalked up upon the wall your formerly selfish expectations built between who you were then and who you are now.
You just love them. You love The Child with every last elementary particle in your battered, broken, but ever-raging heart, and in the end, you wouldn’t change anything, ever, for every left kidney in the world.
I was walking to work on Tuesday morning when some young deranged schizophrenic pulled a knife on me. He looked like he could pass for a young guy in his mid 20s. I called 911 and all the cops did was “talk to him.” I’m getting sick and tired of lame bleeding hearts excusing these “mentally ill” people for their bad behaviour. Some ignorant idiot told me it’s better to call Fraser Health Authority since is a mental health issue, but I digress. There are some toxic people out there that don't deserve any sympathy whatsoever. It’s up to that person’s parents to get help for their own son. That’s their responsibility to call Fraser Health but it’s up to them. How can you help any family that refuses to help themselves? Pulling knives on people and threatening them with violence is nowhere near acceptable. Take responsibility for your actions.
Living in Vancouver is like playing Sims while on a bad acid trip. People are passive aggressive, social awkward, cold and distant. It’s no wonder we have a homelessness crisis, no one looks out for each other. Even friendships here feel like you can never break the ice, you chip away at it, but never break it. Maybe if people weren’t so broke and the only industries here weren’t evil tech corporations then people would be a little nicer. After 8 years here I’m reaching a breaking point. It’s a shame how one of the most beautiful places on Earth can be so mishandled to create such a sterile, broken-spirited society - if you can even call it a society.
I used to love Vancouver, but realize I was in love w
Some people feel like small towns. Spend a day with them and you feel like you’ve known them your whole life. It’s a comfortable familiar luxury these days. To belong, to know, and to be known. Some say this city is a small town. I suppose it depends on the circles you run in. I’m still looking for that sense of belonging here.
I yelled at my sisters girlfriend when I was desperately in need of help. It felt impossible to control and was on the phone. She refused to help me in my distress after that. I lost my housing, ID that are irreplaceable and more. I can't see a future for myself and wish people would say "come home", "you're welcome here", and "we'll keep you safe as you age". I don't think I can replace my ID. I did a stupid thing and actually added convictions on the "do you have any convictions" when I did NOT have any while extremely self-deprecatingly ill. I don't know how to cope alone anymore.
So I checked my Facebook inbox this morning and received messages from somebody that I knew in high school. I don’t contact anyone from high school these days. My life is hectic. Anyhow, that person said hello and all that, but then I noticed they started ranting over pointless bullshit that happened between them and some other people in the past. When I told that person to stop obsessing, get a life and just learn to let things go, they took it to heart and got into a rage with me. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to block them. It sucks to have to block people on social media but when you run into people that are just far gone, that’s the only way they’ll ever learn. Then again, who am I kidding? Leopards don’t change their spots. Some people are just too old to change. Oh well, good riddance.
I need help very badly. I need someone to take over protecting me at home. I got mail from a judge saying I had to confess to things by law. RCMP came to see me from another province saying I have to confess to things on paper - I was sick in the head when this is happened. I can't control or screen my mail. I have never purposely hurt someone. I threw out my ID in the garbage because I was irrationally scared of it. It can't be replaced. Multiple judges are making me say that I have not done.
They write down and say "You will only not get in trouble if you confess!". I feel so vulnerable and so scared. I can't believe two male judges have done this to me. I don't trust them at all. I will run out if money eventually and be homeless. I hate judges now. How is this possibly legal?!? I was mentally ill when they did this to me.
I am rendered disabled. I need help and supervision at home so I don't screw myself over. I can't believe they get away with this. I wish there was a spare bedroom somewhere I could stay in forever so I could be safe. I am worried I will die as a result of this type of bullying. Soon, I won't have any legal ID when it expires. I need a safer place to live where people know I am safe but won't have the quality of life others do. I need help. I need protection. I need these assholes to stop making me say things and telling me I'm terrible out of context. I feel harmed. I can't stop them. They want to destroy me and have.
Where is the social crowd in Vancouver to helps people overcome this? Who says "Whatever, stay home!", and "We will take care of you".
I can't believe ive lost my special ID, home, opportunities. I feel so unsafe and so misunderstood. I need a better option than what has happened. I need them to stop enjoy screwing people over.
I need a new home where their mail won't find me. I hear them laughing as I cry. They forced me to say I'm guilty and I don't feel that I am.
I see it in rare photos of myself. A part of me looks absent. I wonder what it will take to coax me back. Out from the panic room or wherever I might be in my mind.
Moving through a dumping too quickly
Maybe there is an alternate universe where we work out
Forever floating effortlessly in our blow up boat across Harrison lake
A summer that swallowed us whole, sugar and salt to the tongue
When you pampered the skin of my thighs, painfully aware
Of the potential threat of the sun on milk-like skin
The colour red was soft to me then, and laughing took longer
Things we yearned to experience were moments we earned
Rain or parking tickets or mould a slim infraction to our days
I still love you and I don’t think I ever plan on stopping