My Crappy Day At Work

Dear Parents, Jessey, and all others who’ve decided to accuse me of lying about the coming of Blake,

First off, I did NOT lie to Jessey, that’s right.  I didn’t lie.  Something came up in December right in the middle, and I held out hope that Blake would come, but the family came and took that away from me.  Second, I will not have you crushing my dreams, telling me I have to take an “entry level” job.  That will not pay off my debt.  I”m sorry, but that debt has to go away, and it will be paid by the entity who stole my dreams away: Rehab.  Rehab tld me I was no good at social work, could not go to college, etc.  They wanted “appropriate work behaviors.”  Give me a break!  I’m done here, done.  IF you want a performance review that says, “exceeds good standard behavior,” all entities written to in this note, you had better stop crushing my dreams.  I’m done trying to hide myself frrom you, Jess.  I know you want me to do this entry level work, but I’m sorry.  You can’t make me, and I won’t.  Why?  It’s too much, and transit will not be reliable at night if they ask for a night clerk.  I cannot work as a night clerk, period.  I can decide what employment I want, but a guardian is a predatory thing.

To Rehab, you guys just pony up and pay the debt yourselves.  This is not a valid debt, and I want to go to college so I can get a good job provided this Voice thing doesn’t work out.  It won’t.  The producers won’t let a blind person on the show because they won’t think I can take care of myself, and they want visuals: makeup, hair, poppish breasts, etc.  You don’t understand that this is what they want for television personalities too.  At least there was a lady on Wesh who was pregnant, the meteorology lady Amy Sweezy.  She got pregnant, and Mom I remember looked once at her and said, “Oh God, she’s gonna pop any moment.”  Jessey and Richele, do not accuse me of lying at work or at home.  Do not haunt me in my dreams before I explode!  I won’t, I repeat, won’t be going anywhere near college until Rehab pays the debt.

AS for the parents, it’s your guardianship that made things too complicated for my educational future.  I will not pay the college debt.  IF you do not pay it, parents, you’ll be in bigger trouble than you now, and it’s all because you got what you wanted.  You can’t have everything you want just because you’re so “concerned” about your poor baby’s welfare.  Well, guess what?  You’re being severely punished because all the times I’ve lived with you all, you’ve tried to stop me from writing things against you.  What do you want me to say?  Oh, I love you guys.  Oh, you are the best parents a girl could ask for.  Bull.  I’m sorry, but you people have tried to crush my dreams, and you have tried to do it, but you will not.  I will make the producers on the Voice accept the audition and let me on the show.  I will fly to Los Angeles, into the arms of my Blake, and when Blake in Arizona finds out what you’ve done, you will, I repeat will, I promise, have lots of money to pay.  You won’t do this to me again.  I can’t have your way with me.  I want it my way or the highway.  I’m sorry you feel that this is “inappropriate”, but you will not try and erase the writing.  You’ve tried to do it to me before.  Remember?  I was seventeen or nineteen at the time.  You refused to allow me to create things without you staring at it.  You had no respect for me, my privacy, my self worth and dignity.  Goodbye.

As to Blake, you are the greatest thing in the world that has ever lived, and you will always be on my mind.  Blake Tucker, you really have made my day better.  IF only you were awake at this very moment, in Denver, in my arms, so I could hold you tight, so I could kiss your wine-red lips, so I could hold your soft skinned hands.  I want to feel your breath around me, over me, through me.  I want you, more than anything else.  Blake, you were supposed to come here, and God almighty knows I’ll be on the phohne with the Clerk’s office immediately after I wake up at seven MDT.  Blake, don’t worry about me so much unless you mean to.  I love you, and I will never leave you.  Don’t leave me.

As for Lily and Deanna at Bayaud, you ladies rocked the house.  Deanna, you look lovelier than I thought.  Forget about the weight.  Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.  Lily is cool, and she’s the first person I met at the place.  As for my coworkers, thanks a bunch.  I won’t give any more names of any more people for fear I might be going nuts.  Perhaps this blog will go down in history as the rant of the century, but I must go and do something else.

I’m not kidding.

Thanks a lot.

Beth

My First Amendment Experience

I’ve been impeded from invoking the First Amendment to free speech, and boy it wasn’t fun.  It was sometime in 2009, and I had established a fan club on Facebook, something about a Read Gainsford Fan Club.  Well, the point was not to harass the dude, it was a matter of honor.  I thought Dr. Gainsford would appreciate that.  The few things people appreciate about me!  I have also been banned from having a first amendment to practice certain kinds of religions.  Yes, Blake, I know, if I’m not equally yoked, I can’t be with you.  But when I was with someone else, or attempting to be with someone else, I honestly fell off the deep end when, yes, my parents said I couldn’t see him.  I wished to leave the Catholic church, and all Christian churches for that matter.  I was on the verge of practicing Wicca.  Serves my parents right for telling me my First Amendment right to speak my mind isn’t valid.  Well, the reason why I post this is because I feel what I said about the guns and firearms is a perfectly valid point.  Let’s begin from the beginning, shall we?

WE can’t let guns into the hands of the mentally ill, the severely mentally ill, especially ones who claim to have a “sixth sense”, ones who claim they hear voices saying, “Kill.”  If that’s the case, then I swear, we should never allow them to touch a firearm in their lives.  Why?  Look at James Hulmes, the dude who shot up the movie theater in Aurora.  Someone shot up a shopping mall.  Fort Hood in Texas was shot up twice.  Why?  Because, well, there’s a pattern.  The people who did the shootings were mentally incompetent to use firearms.  Blake’s brother was murdered by a girl who, as all other shooters do, killed herself.  She was mentally ill, on drugs, etc.  Could her health records have saved the man’s life?  Could we have kept a better eye on her?  And worse, she’s sighted.  Sighted women in a place where guns are revered as the weapon of choice do not mix.  And Blake could be in grave danger if he dated a sighted girl in Arizona with any of the following traits:

1. Sight.  Sight would allow her to play the “You can’t see me, I can” game.  My parents have played that with me multiple times.

2. Rapid mood swings and actual threats to kill herself or Blake.  If the girl threatens his life and has sight, compound that with the presence of firearms, and you have disaster.  More to come.

3. No treatment or way to get help.  Camp Verde, while it does have a mental health clinic, is like a lot of places where mental health is a stigma.  I’m sick and tired of mentally ill folks having a stigma against them.  I take medications for that stuff, and it works too well..  My weight has skyrocketed, and I can’t fit into any of my clothes.  It’s amazingly weird to think about it, but being on some of the medications is helpful.  But honestly, my frustrations are kept there, deep down, and it’s so frustrating to not be able to see your boyfriend when his own dear mother is about to fall off the deep end if something isn’t done in her name.  But the stigma against mental health issues is paramount in the way guns are lifted in the air and revered as a “toy” of choice.  While there’s nothing wrong with guns at all, there is something wrong with putting it in the hands of the wrong person.  What about a background check?  So what?  I’d never kill a person with the gun.  IF I knew the purpose of the weapon, I’d use it accordingly.  Canes with swords?  Now that’s just weird.

4. Dominance and constant complaint of suicidal thoughts and without meds, the ability to hallucinate.  I’m sorry, but I can name someone who could also hallucinate and hear stuff in strange places.  Phillip Garrido kidnapped and impregnated a girl called Jaycee Lee Dugard.  Miss Dugard now has to do therapy and other mental health stuff with herself and two kids to look after.  She was set free by California police, but not before she had those two little girls.  Phillip used her as a sex object, but also had crazy stuff going on.  I would never have given Phillip the right to use a tazer, which was the epoch in his ability to kidnap Jaycee.  Phillip had all kinds of resources, including Nancy, his wife.  Anyone who claims that they are hearing voices through ANYTHING is crazy in my book.  And I don’t hear those voices.  Auditory hallucinations should have given people like Phillip a diagnosis of schizophrenia before the kidnapping should have taken place.  A girl with all of those above symptoms and so forth should NEVER think about dating Blake.  Her symptoms, untreated, could spell disaster for Blake and grief, a double dose of grief, for his mother, who suffers a good deal now.  I have a weird feeling she needs to go to a Grief Group.  Nothing like the feeling of telling the set of your peers, “My son was captured/killed/murdered by so and so and it feels horrible.”  The same goes for me.  I can say, “I hate being blind in some places.  You know, those moments where the waitress orders around you, not to you?”  Nothing like those same blind or grieving individuals echoing back, “Yes, we hear you.”  A group for support.  A hotline for peer counseling.  It all makes sense.  As much as philosophy at CCB, Colorado Center for the Blind, seemed a joke, it was more of a “support group.”  Why learn the NFB philosophy?  NFB should stand for something like National Federation of the Blind, who are most likely bumming off the government or their parents.  The sad truth of being blind is that you have to bum off the government in order to live.  Jobs are hard to come by, and my friend Art, remember the guy whose sister treated him like dirt, honestly said jobs were a lucky thing.  I can’t find one, and if I don’t take the A Plus exam, then what?  I can’t do graphics.  There needs to be a test accommodations measure so I can take it and pass like everyone else.

But support groups!  Yeah, see that little flashlight popping in your head, Blake and all others who might benefit?  Yeah, a support group.  No joke.  I have a friend called Torrey, who goes to a grief group.  Her brother suffered similar stuff.  HE committed suicide, and boy does that group make a difference in Torrey’s life.  She and I have become good friends, really good friends.  WE have been in two different groups before, a social skills and a behavioral skills group.  While I’m not exactly fond of behavioral skills, social skills is a joke.  Coffee sucks, and I hate it.  On top of that, the people vary from week to week, and those who are in the group are like … wow.  Some smoke, others have it worse than I do.  I”m lucky I don’t have the problem of smoking.  My Aunt Cathy–not the same Cathy I mention in my blog–smokes her brains out.  I always tease her about it whenever I see her, but she has since tried to kill herself twice.  Evidence of mental illness is all over my maternal family.  Well, Mom’s not bad, but that is sure signs that there’s a problem with some of the men, not the women.  The problem is that Cathy had a husband.  A bad one.  You could say it this way, “She married a bad one.”  But then she lost her best friend to suicide, and without the support of a grieving group of individuals, she could not recover well without being in the hospital AGAIN!  Sarah wrote repeatedly on Facebook about it.  Sarah’s the closest I had to a cousin, a sister, whatever.  Sarah could not really understand that yes, I’m in love with Blake, and there’s nothing I can do about it.  Sarah said it was obsession.  So what is my family doing to her!  It’s like the world is against me, but then again, Blake isn’t.  I so wish his whole family would see this, and see that I’m ranting and raving on because of something I can’t control.

Sight, dominance, and untreated mental illness could lead to disaster.  I’m doing my darndest to treat my symptoms but to no avail, and with no reward.  I’m doing the med thing every morning and night.  Take one pill in the morning, then two pills at night.  What EVER!  No rewards.  No good payment for doing right.  Not from anyone, family, doctors, etc.  No.  Just a big fat belly and no clothes to wear, no boyfriends to see, nothing much worth ranting on about.

And my first amendment rights?  They could be extinguished.  Would medications affect all this?  Certainly not.  I have a right to express myself, and that’s the whole point of this blog, now isn’t it?