There is a Mental Health stigma in this country, and a good part of it comes from the professionals within the Mental Health care field itself.
Every positive coping tool I have learned up to this point, is something that I’ve been using lately on the daily to keep from breaking down completely.
Really, I just feel like giving up at this point. If I hurt myself, I bet they’d help me then.
You see how fucked up that is?
I can’t even get someone to help me figure out what I can do in a housing crisis situation. I’m on Ssi for a mental disability , fled a domestic abusive relationship during covid, and have been trying to get help for over two months now about different programs for housing, that no one has time to help me with.
Sure have time to give me phone numbers though, so I can get off the phone with you, and leave a message for someone else who won’t call me back.
Why are the numbers there, if there’s no one that’s actually going to help you on the other end of the line?
I’ve hustled less for drugs and money. Ffs.
It’s ridiculous. I’ve been busting my ass trying to find jobs and everything (to no avail), just so I can get something on paper. Still didn’t get kennel job. (They said they wanted more medical experience, due to covid.)
I’m supposed to be ok. I’m supposed to power through it because Jenni doesn’t have any real emotions or reasons to blame anybody else but herself. Right?
I don’t believe that any housing professional I’ve talked to is actually concerned for my life and well-being, or with helping me with my housing situation at all.
It’s July 4th and I feel like total, sober, covid-19, 48- year old shit.
Not sorry for writing it, because it is true.
That should make some people happy. Enjoy your Fourth.