I feel I should have added to yesterday’s post that it started as a video, and also that I’m not in a good place right now (though I’m pretty sure that much was obvious).
I need an outlet, but I need a safe outlet, and one that doesn’t require a lot of effort and risk on my part. I’ve always needed more safe outlets than I’ve had, and often mistaken unsafe outlets for safe ones. There’s always been too much stress and pain, not enough support, and it’s taken its toll big-time. As resources evaporate and stresses pile up I find myself going downhill quickly physically and psychologically and every year unable to do alarmingly much less than the year before.
This place is really getting to me. I think my brain is molding and my heart is shriveling like a mummified raisin.
This is what it’s like when catastrophic cascades of disasters hit a person, and betrayals are de rigueur. It’s so much more than one person can bear, and much more than anyone can fix, either. In a first-world country, even with smart, resourceful people who know what they’re dealing with putting their heads together and doing everything they can, a life can slip through the cracks. The people who are supposed to care don’t; the systems that are supposed to work don’t; things aren’t what they appear to be; individuals with too much power wield it ineptly; loopholes become black holes.
With trauma as my lifelong companion I have never had a concept of a future for myself, but I don’t remember the last time I have despaired so deeply. I am doing all I can to hang on, availing myself of every resource available to me, but the bottom line is, it costs money to survive. I have lived for three and a half years with no income but what I scrounge from selling what little possessions I can do without that I still have. With all the experts who deal with people in my situation we have investigated every possible option to help sustain and support me and come up with bupkis.
People are in the majority profoundly unsympathetic if not openly hostile and eugenic toward a person who cannot earn a living. It’s so ingrained in us that not only are our lives largely defined by the job we spend most of our waking hours doing, but our worth as human beings and right to live is defined that way as well—what other people will pay for us. Our value is not intrinsic. It is determined by the capricious and mysterious Market.
In the end, as someone once said, we are for sale; now it’s just haggling over the price. What are you worth, really? If your job, wealth, possessions, were stripped from you, if your skills rendered obsolete by technology or your ability to work destroyed by illness or injury, would you be a worthless bag of mostly water?
When we talk about a human being’s worth, where do we draw the line? If some have no worth and therefore are not entitled to life, are there tiers of greater worth entitled to better life? What of those with borderline worth—are they entitled to a lesser quality of life, or can that life be threatened or revoked if they fall below a certain threshhold or as punishment for ‘bad’ behavior?
Or is this already happening? And is that a stupidly obvious question with a stupidly obvious answer?
Like I said, despair is running high ’round here these days.