Oh The Irony...

I've been uber reluctant to talk about this. I know, me, reluctant to talk about something, seems strange right? Yeah well... sometimes even I have things I don't talk about. Many people know the surface of my life, not many people know past that.

Most people know I spend a lot of time talking about homelessness and over coming it and supporting the homeless. With 50 teens 4 Christmas, speaking engagements and now my work with the Human Services Advisory Committee, I spend a lot of my time trying to end homelessness through awareness. Awareness of mental health issues, poverty issues, family issues and housing issues.

I don't know if you would call it irony or hypocrisy or dumbassery but I am back on the edge of homelessness and I'm ready to fall apart. Define edge you say? A lot of us are one cheque from homelessness. Me? 80 hours. In 80 hours I will have a date and time to be out of my home.

I've been living in subsidised housing for a little over 3 years now. Missing paperwork has resulted in me losing my subsidy. I don't know if I lost them or my superintendent lost them but all of that is irrelevant. What is relevant is that my rent is now 6X more then I'm used to. I don't even bring in enough now to pay rent and hydro/water/phone.

So I've spent the last month-ish talking to community organizations, selling things, looking to find a loan, trying to find a job... anything to try and fix this. Nothing has worked. Calls gone unanswered, emails unreturned and "no"s at every turn. Monday is a last ditch meeting with my landlord to try and work something out, my hopes are not high.

Nothing right now is high.

I feel about the size of an ant.

I've failed my baby. When we left the shelter in Ottawa I swore I would do whatever it took to never be that far down again. That she would always have a home and food and feel safe. I have failed her so much. I feel like I don't deserve the beautiful, sweet little girl who is sleeping less then 20 feet from me. Sleeping innocently, completely unaware of what is about to happen.

I am terrified. I can't sleep. I am having anxiety attacks daily.

I don't know what I am going to do.

I will do whatever is best for Monkey. Whatever that is.

Hug your kids. Thank your higher power for the roof over your head. Appreciate everything.

Falling Apart

*Sigh*

I have spent so much time thinking the past week that I think I've made up for not having graduated high school. I wish this was a happy go lucky post about the joy I got from Blissdom, and that will come, I promise. This is just more important right now.

This is the post wear I'm going to put my soul on the line. The post where I'm not going to hide what I'm going through. The post where I will potentially alienate people. Fuck.

Let's start at the beginning. I am a fraud a huge fraud. I spend my days making people smile and helping people, I come home and cry. I come home and fall apart. I am horribly horribly depressed, fairly heavily medicated and the exact opposite of what most people see.

I give away money every day, I fund raise and fight for people who can't fight for themselves. I wake up every morning not knowing if my lights will turn on or if my phone is still working. It's so ridiculous, its laughable. Laughable if I wasn't so busy bawling my face off. I sit in my car every day when I get home and cry. I avoid going into my home as long as possible. my home is the reality of the sadness of my life.

So many people spend time telling me I have such a light and such potential and they see such great things for me. I have no idea how to get those great things. People are trying to help me but I don't comprehend shit. I don't get it. And everything takes so much time.

I broke down at Blissdom so many times. In the Social Media for Social Good panel I asked how I can live my dream, not sacrifice my happiness and still feed my family and cried. I curled up in my bed and questioned what I was thinking spending money on a conference when I should have been paying bills. I listened to panels talk, knowing many of these people believed in me and wanted the best for me but I honestly had no idea why.

No. Idea. Why.

I'm just a poor girl with a big fucking dream and nothing else. Nothing. Else.

I've done everything people say to do. I try hard, I work hard, I take opportunities, I ask for help and yet I'm not moving forward. I can't keep doing this. It's killing me. I'm falling apart. Losing my mind. Ready to give up completely.

I've gotten so behind that I don't know where to start. I try to function and fail. I only feel human when Im surrounded by people, yet ironically have severe social anxiety issues. People like to inject themselves into my life and make comments about my going out when I "claim" broke. I go out because if I stayed home I would die. My soul would die. I need to be inspired and feel the light of other people in order to even bother making myself get out of bed in the morning.

I need a miracle that isn't coming.

I would rather be happy and poor then have money and hate myself. Not following my dreams feels like slow suicide. Not being able to pay my bills feels like slow suicide. My whole life feels like slow suicide right now. A disease with no cure and no matter which path I take the end result is the same.