So what do I do?
In the wreckage of a life, I still need to survive.
Disabled, alone, impoverished, with children to raise, I need to find a way to survive. The people who cared for me in this city have turned against me out of loyalty to my abuser. The one exception, technoshaman, is moving around the world in less than a year. I can't leave the area without losing my children. I don't know how I'm going to support them, or myself, after the next year and a half, when the spousal maintenance I've been receiving goes away permanently. I've looked at school programs and I'm hoping to get into something, but even if I can handle it, I'll face a full year of having almost no money, because although my father is willing to continue paying me as much as he has been, he won't even discuss raising it when the spousal maintenance goes away. And that's presuming I can actually do it, show up for class five days a week for two years, and then hold down a job after that. I've never been able to do it before, and now I'm trying to do it and also keep up with my responsibilities to my kids as a single parent. What happens if I can't do it, if I drop out of school yet again because the flares come and my body won't work and I stay in bed because I cannot get out of it, and I can't keep up with the work because of that? I'm looking into disability, but I may have more short-term savings to qualify, because I'm trying desperately to hold onto every cent I can, to prepare for the lean time that will be even if I can make my body behave. I can't go both directions; I need to pick one. And if I'm wrong, my kids will suffer.
They're already suffering. Grace is shattered by the loss of the stepmother she loved, so shattered she can't sleep or eat, so shattered her homework doesn't happen because of the hysterical bursts of terror, so shattered it breaks her mother's heart and I don't know if she'll ever be whole again. I'm suffering too. The panic attacks about death are a daily event, and right now I can scream for technoshaman and have my brother get on a motorcycle and come through my door and hold me, but that won't be true in a year. In a year, I will have nobody. And the panic will still happen. Because I've had PTSD before, and I know it doesn't go away that quickly.
I've lost my partner, my father, almost all my nearby friends and am losing the rest. I'm losing my source of income. I've had my body broken, my heart broken, my children broken and my soul sent weeping into the black void of terror and despair.
And pretty much nobody pays any attention. Because I don't complain much; this is a rarity. I don't like to, it feels wrong to ask for people's sympathy and help when I can possibly stand without it, so I hide behind brave fronts and watch all the sympathy go to the person who destroyed me and my kids.
Well, right now, my reservations aren't an issue: I can't possibly stand without help. Practical help, financial help, emotional help, people to walk me through things I need to do, to teach me what I need to know to get by, to tell me they care, to help me help my kids, to come over and hold me when the terror grips me and I can't do anything but cry and beg them to make it stop. I don't know if anyone will be there if I do ask, but I'm asking, because I've come to the absolute last shred of my own strength. The friends I have left tell me I've done everything right since my life was left in ruins... hit the ground running, made the necessary things happen, kept my chin up, and even refrained from vengeance (though my abuser insists I'm punishing her horribly by asking for one convention a year that I can attend free of fear). I can't do everything right anymore. I can't do anything right anymore.
I can only cry, and beg someone to make it stop. Nothing else. Nothing.
Disabled, alone, impoverished, with children to raise, I need to find a way to survive. The people who cared for me in this city have turned against me out of loyalty to my abuser. The one exception, technoshaman, is moving around the world in less than a year. I can't leave the area without losing my children. I don't know how I'm going to support them, or myself, after the next year and a half, when the spousal maintenance I've been receiving goes away permanently. I've looked at school programs and I'm hoping to get into something, but even if I can handle it, I'll face a full year of having almost no money, because although my father is willing to continue paying me as much as he has been, he won't even discuss raising it when the spousal maintenance goes away. And that's presuming I can actually do it, show up for class five days a week for two years, and then hold down a job after that. I've never been able to do it before, and now I'm trying to do it and also keep up with my responsibilities to my kids as a single parent. What happens if I can't do it, if I drop out of school yet again because the flares come and my body won't work and I stay in bed because I cannot get out of it, and I can't keep up with the work because of that? I'm looking into disability, but I may have more short-term savings to qualify, because I'm trying desperately to hold onto every cent I can, to prepare for the lean time that will be even if I can make my body behave. I can't go both directions; I need to pick one. And if I'm wrong, my kids will suffer.
They're already suffering. Grace is shattered by the loss of the stepmother she loved, so shattered she can't sleep or eat, so shattered her homework doesn't happen because of the hysterical bursts of terror, so shattered it breaks her mother's heart and I don't know if she'll ever be whole again. I'm suffering too. The panic attacks about death are a daily event, and right now I can scream for technoshaman and have my brother get on a motorcycle and come through my door and hold me, but that won't be true in a year. In a year, I will have nobody. And the panic will still happen. Because I've had PTSD before, and I know it doesn't go away that quickly.
I've lost my partner, my father, almost all my nearby friends and am losing the rest. I'm losing my source of income. I've had my body broken, my heart broken, my children broken and my soul sent weeping into the black void of terror and despair.
And pretty much nobody pays any attention. Because I don't complain much; this is a rarity. I don't like to, it feels wrong to ask for people's sympathy and help when I can possibly stand without it, so I hide behind brave fronts and watch all the sympathy go to the person who destroyed me and my kids.
Well, right now, my reservations aren't an issue: I can't possibly stand without help. Practical help, financial help, emotional help, people to walk me through things I need to do, to teach me what I need to know to get by, to tell me they care, to help me help my kids, to come over and hold me when the terror grips me and I can't do anything but cry and beg them to make it stop. I don't know if anyone will be there if I do ask, but I'm asking, because I've come to the absolute last shred of my own strength. The friends I have left tell me I've done everything right since my life was left in ruins... hit the ground running, made the necessary things happen, kept my chin up, and even refrained from vengeance (though my abuser insists I'm punishing her horribly by asking for one convention a year that I can attend free of fear). I can't do everything right anymore. I can't do anything right anymore.
I can only cry, and beg someone to make it stop. Nothing else. Nothing.