End of the Line
I’m hearing voices. Bad voices. The voices are telling Me to hurt Myself. To hurt other people. They’re giving Me instructions.
The voices are telling Me to … no, no it’s too horrible to contemplate. They want Me to bring about the end of the world. The voices want Me to … to … vote Republican!
Oh wait, no, it’s just some conservative talk radio drivel. My bad! I guess dying will have to wait for … for a little while, at least.
OK, well, on to happier things. Or at least different things. Therapy did not work, at least not this place. The first few times I went several years ago were OK. This time had its ups and downs. Nothing, however, that I can’t get on My own and with less forced conformity.
The last straw was this morning. I had been asking them for days — four days — to pick Me up in the morning, as they do provide transportation for those who request it. Since Thursday, I’ve asked. Four days, four days, four days, four days! I walked Myself down there on Thursday but didn’t feel safe doing so since then. It’s been raining and the sidewalk is in a bit of disrepair. Not to mention My balance issues and leg pain.
Nobody came on Thursday, but the intake coordinator came by and personally assured Me that somebody would be by Friday and every day thereafter. Friday, nobody. I call and leave a message with the therapist.
Monday, nobody. Therapist calls and tries to convince Me to give it another chance. I am reluctant, but speak to one of the drivers who personally assures Me that somebody will be by on Tuesday morning around 9:30.
I figure OK, one last time. So this morning, I get up and get everything ready. I cook a lunch to take: fried pork chop with quinoa. I’ve been taking a lunch every day, as I have very special dietary needs. (My food has to taste good.) I eat breakfast, because class starts at 9:30 and there’ll be no time to eat there until the first break.
So 9:30 comes. Nobody. 9:45, nobody. 10:00, nobody. At that point, I just throw in the towel and go out. I consider going and having a beer, but decide against that then. I come back, there are calls from about 10:20 onward. One message from the driver — who personally assured Me yesterday — asking what happened; he said the driver told him that she had knocked on My door but I didn’t answer. Repeat after Me, class: “Liar liar pants on fire.”
Needless to say, I think I’ll not be returning to that place again. Like many things, it was fine and good in days gone by but no longer seem to be as wonderful as it purports to be.
So, this frees up My days. I’m going to try going without a caregiver; I mean, everybody else gets by and dammit I’m going to have a go at it. I made it to the grocery store and back on Friday (even getting most of the items I had written down). I made it to the book store and back yesterday, found the book I wanted (_Descarte’s Error_, if you must know) and even navigated a flight of stairs without falling; also, I managed to take three different buses and a train without wandering off. (I think the drugs are helping.)
Some of My next steps are going to be getting a social security card and ID (both of which were lost or stolen). I did manage to get My birth certificate, which should help somewhat. Then look around for a decent place to live.
And keep trying this online dating crap even though very little seems to pan out. Seriously, I met a fair number of dating partners online when I was young(er), in the ‘good old days’ of dial-up and long-distance calls, of AOLusers and landlines. Boy have things changed!
At least now I can sleep when I want to sleep and get up when I want to get up. Yay Me! The danger, of course, is that now with so little to occupy My time I might turn to that perennial time sink: alcohol and thoughts of death, dying and suicide.