From the Shadows

This post will more than likely be dark, disturbing, and contain profanity.  I will not be upset if any of my readers stop reading here...

  I've been stripped of my ability to drive, go for a walk, pour a glass of milk or water, shower daily, shave daily, fix my own meals, and clean my area of living.  This week I've been stripped of the desire to do anything.  No postings, just a few lines here and there in scattered journals, my personal journal left empty for too long.  And now I'm finding myself angry.  I have no where to aim my venom, and have been lashing out in every direction.  I simply want to yell 'FUCK' into the wind and let it find the ears of everyone.
  Three days have passed since I made an inquiry of the VFW.  They still haven't called me back.  In a perfect world those agencies that render the hopeless veteran homeless should be homeless as well.  I'm willing to bet that they'd all work a bit faster, act in a more diligent way, if they found their shelter missing every time they played these games.  For as much drag time that they have, you'd think they were disabled too.  Could you imagine if they had to work while suffering with pain that blinds; renders the victim feeble minded.  We showed Illinois the governments bare ass, caught them with their pants down, and there still is little progress made.
  Perhaps, if the nation (or the state) had to sacrifice like our service members, they'd have a different perspective.  Perhaps if they all had to spend just a few days crippled and in pain, they'd never let a transgression of this magnitude to go on.
  I still haven't heard from my mayor.  He didn't have anyone running against him... again...  Where does a non-caring windbag have a secure job where he doesn't have to do anything?  Crystal Lake, Illinois.  I've often spent time thinking about causing him as much pain as I suffer with and watch him.  I think I'd actually laugh.  I honestly don't think the bastard has had one day of adversity in his whole life.
  I've been lectured about respect, and I live in a place where I don't feel that I'm offered any.  My door is constantly opened and shut while I rest, my work is interrupted when I'm actually able to accomplish anything, my belongings and my safe haven are often trashed.  Where is the respect?  Today I rose to requirements stemmed from individuals simply not wanting to follow simple directions, and now I can't rest because there's voices in my room (yes, they belong to people) that are annoying.  I have to ask for permission to see my daughter, but no one asks me my permission to have their friends over.  They simply don't care what condition I'm in, what I suffer with.  The rules only apply to myself, my wife, and my child.  They're one-sided and ignored when they don't fit the life style of those who are housing us.
  Now most people will be up and arms at this statement.  I can hear the comments already.  "It's their house, and they can do that," "They don't have to follow rules if they're in place for only you," etc.
  Perhaps the voices of opposition are right.

  So with no regard to me, life moves on in whatever way it wants here.  It seems like those who have given us shelter don't feel like they need to bother, like I don't need to be.  That's it...
  I feel like I don't need to exist; as if there is no regard to me and my situation.  I feel like the government has swept me into a corner, and my providers of shelter have completely disregarded what I go through.  I feel like a small fleck of dirt; tired, and drawn thin, from the constant sweeping into corners.  I find my breath hard coming, and the pressures of trying to demonstrate my existence slowly compressing me into nothingness.
  I'm tired, of just about everything......
       FUCK

Mother

My mother goes through these periods where she's pissed off about one thing or another and, for some reason, takes it out on me.  This last time she was yelling at me and giving me the treatment and made the statement 'You posted up on your blog about your neighbors and how they helped you, but didn't say anything about how much I have helped you'.
My mother watches my son Monday through Friday.  Lincoln is dropped off at her house on the way to Amy's work and then picked up on the way home.  For that I'm eternally grateful.
I love my mother...

My mother makes me cry.  I try to share with her how I'm hurting and she turns around and states she's hurting too.  I make every attempt to tell her how something she did hurt me and she turns around and explains that I hurt her too.  She has a tool shed sized memory when it comes to all the things I've done to hurt her, or all the things she's done for me, and when ever I'm having problems she walks into that shed and comes out with some reason or another to demonstrate as little support as possible.  It makes me sad, and tearful, and feel un-valued by the one who gave me life.
I love my mother...

My mother makes me insane.  No matter how many times I'll say something she refuses to get it.  I could say it in 9 different ways, in 10 different languages, or broken down potato head style and she still refuses to get it...
I love my mother...

Originally my mother was supposed to be coming to my house to help me with my activities of daily living.  Helping me get my meals, making quick runs to the store for things I didn't have accessible, calling 911 when I black out, etc.  But because, in my opinion, it made her so uncomfortable to see what my life is she came up with excuses and became more harmful to me than helpful. 
I don't eat through the day except for some snacks that are readily accessible.  I can't cook in the oven because when I open it the hot air hits my leg and causes some excessive burning.  I wasn't going to tell my wife, but the other reason I don't cook in the oven is because I almost fell into it while she was on a trip.  Yes, I was trying to make a pizza and the heat from the oven caught me in such a way that I almost fell in.
I can't drive anywhere as it's extremely dangerous.  I've only driven 4 times since this started in September of 09, and of those 4 times I almost got in accidents 3 times.  Terrible record there...  Ever wanted to have a taco from Taco Bell and can't get there to eat it?  That's the story of my daily life.  I don't watch much TV because the food commercials are unbearable throughout the day.  That statement seems silly and sad, but true.

My son loves his grandmother.  He asks about her when he's at places she normally takes him; looks for her after his naps when he wakes up and she's not around.  I'm glad that they can spend the time together that they do.  She raised me.  I'm proud of who I am.
I love my Mother...