Shoved down the stairs on the last day of June, 2016

I am trying to go through my notebooks.  I buy Picadilly; moleskin is too expensive and snobbish for me.  I want to throw them out after rewriting or posting or reusing things I write.  I get to do this less often than I wish.  I do want to keep lessons of the past and move on, but it is very painful; and with being in physical  pain since March 2016, the challenges are intensified.  Some stuff I wrote a little bit less than a year ago here.

First of all, I want to write that I was superdosing myself on ibuprofin while sporadically taken prescription pain pills because none of the doctors would actually assess my injuries.  I was doing this because I was living in an expensive city at that time, and working 20 hours a week to augment my SSDI and SSI payments as my rent was too high.  I was struggling to numb my pain enough to function.

Besides my upper body injuries, Starting the last week of June 2016 I have been dealing with ankle issues.  I was shoved down the stairs going to public transportation to the place I was staying at.  I couldnt walk.  I didn’t stay for an ambulance to try to sue the city because I was taking care of cats.*  My ankle was blown up to abot  16 inches in diameter.  I walked very slowly and had to elevate my ankle whenever possible.

So I wrote last July:

I was going down the stairs backwards because my ankle could not flex and hold weight enough to lower my healthy ankle down steps.  I was on my way to work.  I was told by a 30 something hipster to go down the stairs “right”.  There was nobody else on the stairs in the middle of the day. He was carrying a stroller.

Ok, so this is what I wrote:

I want to blow him up and his baby.

I worked very hard to not be a narcissist. I don’t get to hook up with men and boys in this day and age because of the reprecussions of the outcome; women being jealous, being stalked, males believing that they are entitled to my pussy because I have fucked others, the list goes on.  Yes in my teens and 20’s I was kind of wild but I kept getting into bad situations.  So I don’t get to use men and boys as objects- I am working hard on not being like my parents.

So I just cursed out that hipster father and didn’t limp over to him to shove him down stairs.

I was always told that I have no rights.  “You aren’t allowed to feel scared or sad, you don’t own yourself; you don’t pay rent” ; “You aren’t supposed to feel pain because I own your body”; “Those hand me downs are not yours; they were given to me, not to you; you don’t own anything because you don’t pay rent”**

Beacause of the way I look and present myself, I am often accused of being a rebel; the accusation is partly correct.  Most have no idea that I am rebelling against being lazy, irresponsible, and selfish.

My parents won by not getting caught.  I would go to school with bruises, black eyes, bleeding mouth, pass out and wake up in the nurse’s office (concussion) and they never got caught.  I fell of my bike, or fell running in the park.  I was always clumsy from dissociating.  I was already awkward from hypervigilance, and never being safe; from not developing a prefrontal cortex.  Please look at My post from June 9, 2016 titled “ACE quiz”

I was not able to get that college  free ride when I was 19 years old (Please look at “Why Didn’t I better MY Life?” from January 22, 2015).   They cheated on taxes and I didn’t get that education.  I lost they won.  They didn’t get caught when I had a vaginal injury when  I was in 5th grade.  The white pediatrician did not wan to bother asking my parents about the sexual abuse, or was thinking of me as another one who would grow up to be a cheap high volume brothel whore, or massage parlor whore or cruiseship whore, so he and his sons will always have a supply.  It seems like some wives look over their powerful mens’ cheating if the women or girls are cheap, not high end.

They won, and I lost.

They did not parent me nor they have to work for a living.  By being dangerous narcissists, their rich relatives sent money for living expenses to keep them in the USA.  they didn’t have to work and they were able to get away with addiction and spending money that was supposed to be for raising their own children on their addiction.

They got away with it.

They got away with damaging me physically and mentally in such a way at age 45 I haven’t had a safe place to live since 2011 and still living on benefits and still in pain and cannot work.  Yes I worked full time since age 15, but I had psychotic episodes around 13 years ago and have to be on disability.

I actually don’t know if I can ever get even.  But I became an artist.  When I lived 1100 miles away from where I was born and performing and choreographing, 3 dance artists from that city told me that they know who I am and may have met me.  My name and photos of me have been in publications (I was never reviewed, I never made a press package).  I have made work that I wanted to make and have them produced and presented.  I also danced for choreographers that I have wanted to work with; not necessarily  right away, not necessarily under optimum circumstances, but I have had a lot of time on stage, in sold out houses, and had a lot of fun.

I may never get even but I am always working on trying to live optimally.

Postscript:  A year later I still haven’t performed dance, but am doing non dance performance art; had a performance in September of 2016, as well as performing text based work in May 2017 and have been curated into a July  2017 performance art festival where i will show (not perform per se) text based conceptual art, exhibited a drawing in a gallery in May and will be part of an arts festival next month (july).  My parents have some old canvases and paper drawings hanging around.  Some of my father’s canvases gott water damaged with molde growing on the acrylic paint from a flood in his storage sometime in the 1990’s.  There is nothing on them on  a google search.  They never can find contentment, only seek supply, get excited when they can make another person miserable, and did not accomplish anything, not even parenting.  I have a pretty nice artistic resume, and had a lot of fun on stages and theaters.

 

 

 

 

 

*I was petsitting as much as I can there because I was living in a very oppressive situation.  I will post about that soon.  I decided to not go through the emergency room (it always takes more than 8 hours) and legal system to gain from this fall.  The person who’s cats it was was very insensitive about the situation.

She was to come back two days later at 8pm.  I got an email that she will be back at 3pm, 5 hours earlier than she said.  I emailed her back that I couldnt get out in time and that my ankle wasa badly injured; this was around 12 noon that day, not enough time.  She emailed me back “oh bummer. you have plenty of time tho”

This is a grown woman; a so called energy healer and teacher who teaches workshops all over the United States, hence the cat sitting.  She has no sympathy for a severely injured person.  She has more alcohol than any one who I have been roomates with, pet sat for, or knew well enough of what they have.  She has percoset and some other pain killers in her medicine cabinet (No, I did not take any, I had my own from prescriptions from unethical doctors, thank you).

The world is full of charlatans.  This fake healer has a very nice apartment in a very nice area of the city and can’t get a cat sitter among her friends.  I am so happy that I have always lived in reality and have a very real, sincere body of work.  I have not performed dance in 14 months and 14 days, but I have spent the time to look back on my 19 years of performing, and13 years of choreographing (simultaneously,o f course)

** I was always the dirty kid who had scabs, oozing stuff from the skin, and the same clothes all the time.  My parents used to rotate 2 or 3 shirts and 1 or two slacks for me to go to school, and hide hand me downs to wear for when we went to meet the family of the clothes that they come from.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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