I keep saying I’ll write more poetry. But then I don’t get most of the things done that I want to, need to, whatever… not these days. Still homeless. Still staying with The Rabbit up in the hills. Still barely coping.

Wrote this the other day — edited slightly for the blog here:

There are so many things I need help with. And most of them I can clearly articulate the ways I need help, and why — I have all that completely worked out.

The problem is, I need help to get the help that I need. And I don’t know how to get the help that will get me the help I need. And it’s also often likely that the help I need isn’t available, or isn’t available to me in particular, or isn’t available to me right now, etc. etc. etc.

And since I don’t know where to begin with getting help, or getting help to get help, or getting help to get help to get help… I don’t get a lot of things done that would make it easier for me to do more on my own, to need less help.

I need someone to hang out while I work on tackling the mess in the room I’m staying in. I need to have someone around on consecutive days, or at least not more than a few days apart, until it’s in a reasonably organized state. But, shit… I can’t even get someone to hang out with me for fun more than once or twice a month just for fun stuff, and that’s almost always the same person [Again] who comprises most of my extremely limited social life. Trying to repeatedly call and hassle and schedule and reschedule and coordinate just is way beyond my capacity.

I need a place to live. That’s… something that feels pretty much impossible, honestly. It’s been since at least July 2013 that I’ve been looking. It’s really been that long, because the lease on the place I shared with [MFP] originally expired in September 2013. I ended up staying there until February 2014, and I’ve been homeless since then, trapped up in this place in the hills where [The Rabbit] has a spare room (mostly storage, but there’s a bed here and I’ve really all but moved in.) I thought I had things settled for a while, but unfortunately things fell through and my hopes for getting out of here vanished — along with a few months of time that I might have otherwise been looking while prices have continued to rise everywhere.

There are other things I need, and much smaller things. I can often break down my needs into very small, theoretically manageable pieces… but I always seem to find that those are only manageable with assistance, or that the first step that I can do on my own requires another step to be accomplished by someone else, or requires something that can’t be done at all. There’s always some prerequisite to beginning to address my needs.

So I often just give up and avoid everything, instead… which doesn’t accomplish anything either. And I try to tell myself that I’m right to avoid trying to take care of things that I can’t, that I’m doing self-care, trying to spin little things that don’t honestly feel like accomplishments into “yay I got something done” and it feels like it’s all lies. I don’t believe myself when I say that “I took a relaxing bath, go me” was self-care… not when I know I went in there to shave my body because I was freaking out with the only dysphoria I really deal with and I didn’t shave at all. I don’t believe myself when I say that I got something accomplished today, because even though I got my bus pass for the month and ate a meal, I missed my pills and I didn’t call back the psychiatric intake folks who said they’d call me back last Thursday, and I didn’t stop at the couple of stores I planned to to stock up on some stuff for actual self-care, and I didn’t get several other things done that I needed to. The day feels wasted, and trying to say that I was awesome because I got a couple of things actually accomplished way behind schedule doesn’t feel honest.

I’m just rambling and not saying anything worth anything anymore, and I’m stalling laying down and maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe going to sleep. There’s food rotting in here. There’s so much mess overflowing everywhere it makes me want to scream. I need help. I don’t have help. I feel helpless and hopeless and I just want to get out of here, to be anywhere safe, and I don’t know how.

Posted in General. 1 Comment »

One Response to “(untitled)”

  1. Wish me luck, here goes nothing. | Σαφικος Σοφια Says:

    […] the bad things. I’ve ended up in more than a couple situations that really turned out shitty because of that — and I want… I need for the next place I move to be a long-term home, […]

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