I had to go to the supermarket today, cry when I go there now, so ashamed – thankfully people don’t usually notice the tears rolling down your face, because you’re not sobbing. After I had my card decline over $7 last week to even walk in is humiliating, I can’t go to the counter with the young guy who served me that day all I get is visions of self-harming.
Walking around trying to work out how to get enough food to deal with your bulimia and have enough money to do other things, like buy gas for the stove. Its much like after you are raped when you go out and feel like you have a neon sign on your forehead that says poor worthless loser please despise me. You try not to look around, keep your head down, there are so many nice things that you are not allowed, you only buy things on special. I’ve been keeping my receipts to prove the sort of food I am forced to buy – I did do a really bad thing today, its like an addiction thing. I was feeling so bad when I woke up this morning about what a revolting person I am I went to Masterton (which is 15 mins away) and had $6 worth of McDonalds, which I almost inhaled (part of the bulimia you refuse to deal with, that you have known I have had for years and costs me money). Then I went to a café and had a coffee and a savoury scone while I wrote in my diary. Saw someone I used to work with avoided looking so she wouldn’t come up to me, so ashamed, started feeling sick and trying to work out how to get out of the café without her commenting. If she did say hello, she would want to know how I am and what I was doing. I have nothing I could say, I’m a worthless loser rotting on welfare, I am nothing I do nothing, not real work, not like people want you to talk about. She is a National Party person if I told her the truth she wouldn’t know how to respond and would despise me for it. She knew what an intelligent person I am and what a good worker I am, she would just consider me a bludger if I told her the truth. I am so ashamed I managed to escape without making eye contact – won’t go to a café ever again. Now feel really bad that I spent the money. Its pay day today, only allowed to spend money one day a week now, that’s how little I have.
Back to the supermarket, I keep my head down, I stand in front of things I want/need for ages, just looking trying to decide how desperate I am and what I will have to give up in order to buy that thing. I stand there and tears start rolling down my face I can’t stop them, I drop my head so nobody will see, I try not to make eye contact with anybody. If I see somebody I know who might ask how I am I avoid them, hide from them. I try not to look what other people have in their trolleys but sometimes I just can’t help it – look at all the nice things they have. I have $1 bread, $1 can tomatoes, $2.50 of luncheon, 2 x $3.50 eggs (good eggs on special that will last me the week, maybe even 2 wks), cheese slices on special (yippee havn’t had cheese for months) – this week I needed shampoo and conditioner – its $10, I wipe away my tears while nobody is watching. My heart hurts, I want to run out of the shop onto the main road and in front of a truck and die – this is what my life is going to be like for the rest of it – I don’t want to live. I havn’t heard from ACC so I am assuming they are never going to contact me again or do anything to get my care back so I will never work, I will be left with no hope, no job living in the most degrading poverty on earth.
When my card declined last week the young guy said well at least we don’t live in Bangladesh but I wish I did. Living with so little around so many people who have so much is the most degrading hell on earth. Living the first 37 years of my life with everything I needed and the time since I was raped with so little – but more now I don’t have the kids is the worst. The worst hell on earth, at least poor people in third world countries aren’t surrounded by people gloating about what they do have. Spending/wasting money on things that aren’t even important, like the new statue in town, built by Lions from charity money. The mayor said he would get me some wood a few weeks ago, said he would get me food from the food bank but he didn’t get me the food, even though I phoned him, I was so scared about the wood not coming and freaking out about being cold this winter I spent the last of what Dulcie gave me. Now I have nothing if one of my kids needs me or there is an emergency.
I cant go to the food bank, I would be able to and I would be able to get food that I know I am eligible for if I had the mental health worker, a social worker or Occupational Therapist I am entitled to under ACC. I can’t go there because the last time I did I was so humiliated and degraded by the woman I have become phobic about going. I am very frightened, I get very frightened and self-harm after the supermarket, binge and vomit usually as well. I feel so worthless and humiliated that I am so poor.
HAvn’t heard from my mother since Xmas, she’s older now, has a heart condition, she’s mean to me because I am poor, hates that I don’t work because she knows I am intelligent. I don’t tell her about my protesting or anything, she just abuses me for it – I’m a bludger, I waste police time, I’m a loser, I should just get over it, how good it is my dog died now I won’t have to buy food for her and when I move again I won’t need to worry about getting somewhere I can have her. I see my brother in law (who lives in our old family home where my mother has a unit attached) was in the paper, got a payout with others cause his boss said something in the paper about him and others that she wasn’t supposed to. $100,000 wow, lucky them – my sister and him hate my guts – only seen there kids about 4 times in their lives, the oldest is 10. Mostly because I’m poor and they vote National, love John Key so hate my guts for bludging when they know I’m intelligent. I remember once playing a game where you answer questions and me and him were answering almost all the questions. Sad I have been rotting on welfare for 14 years thanks to ACC refusing to provide me the treatment care and rehabilitation I am entitled to.
Last time I was home a friend paid for me and the girls to go. It was 18 months after mums heart attack, I hadn’t been able to visit until my friend gave me the money. I had to stay with my sister , my daughter had told me I wasn’t allowed to argue so I didn’t. The first day we were there he couldn’t help himself and told me he didn’t agree with welfare – said we shouldn’t have it. I looked at him and suggested he go and visit a country with no welfare then walked away. My own family would prefer I had nothing and lived on the streets begging because I am disabled by my mental injury and can’t go for a job interview. That’s what the main reason is I can’t get work, after 14 years of course its much much worse than that, now I have no qualifications and who is going to employ an insane bludger that hasn’t worked for that long – NOBODY.
In 2009 my OT and I had worked out that the not guilty verdict had created a phobic reaction to being judged, which manifested by not being able to go for a job interview. Or having a severe reaction to being judged. Its like when I was in court for legally protesting at ACC last year, I was flipping out as I was forced to represent myself, when I realised the judge was corrupt and abusive I couldn’t stay in the room until the end I became so traumatised I started rocking backwards and forwards in my chair with my hands over my ears chanting. I had a security guard escort he was really nice. If I had stayed I would have gone tourettes on it and started swearing at her because it was so unfair. Why was I being prosecuted in court for a the same crime I had only months before been acquitted of (wilful trespass of ACC).
Why was I being prosecuted for legally protesting about ACC refusing to reinstate my professional care after repeatedly saying they would then refusing. Sarah Jones promised my care would be reinstated as it was in 2009 last year, when she phoned me out of the blue I made sure I asked it very plainly, over and over again and she said yes. It is almost a year since that phone call and I’m still here rotting on welfare, but worse off. Much more isolated.
I seldom go out with my friend S, she asks me but I can’t bear being around her and her friends, they have money and I am deeply humiliated that I can’t afford to have a drink and mostly can’t participate in conversations because I don’t work. I don’t go on holidays, I don’t buy things, I don’t go to cultural events, I don’t visit my family.
A few weeks ago I did go to Wellington and attend a National Library lecture called Kicking the Boundaries, gave me lots of ideas about how to use the National Library to research plays, poetry etc. So many normal people there, felt like the neon sign was above my head again telling everybody what a loser I was. Although for a couple of hours I thought about all the things I could do, as I was leaving the loud voice in my head told me – NO POINT IN THINKING ABOUT THIS YOU HAVE NO MONEY AND NOTHING YOU EVER WANT TO DO WORKS OUT – YOU CAN’T FILL OUT THE FORMS TO GET FUNDING, ACC ARE NEVER GOING TO HELP YOU – SO JUST SHUT UP YOU LOSER. I left crying.
I attended the Ceilia Lashlie Day, used all my food money to get there, I had a bad reaction coming up to lunch, seeing all those people there getting paid to be in the VIOLENCE INDUSTRY, saying the same things they have been saying for over a decade that I know of and decades before that. Am currently writing a report on what happened that day and my disgust at seeing the same people and hearing the same rhetoric. Only worse because they were gloating about how women in prison who had killed people were getting help to go to university – which ACC refuse me (and I had to quit university last year when I tried to go back, but was left with the $3000 loan and yet another failure). How these people in prison were getting health care, study support, to be around others and work. They had somewhere stable to live and were around other people. They talked about the couple retreats which were like the residential care I had been begging for.
The following week I heard of some other things at Victoria I went to, I cried several times when there, I so miss it, I so love study and learning things, being part of something – being a student is something to be. I went to a lecture about capitalism and participated with my take on human rights being a way of stopping the cruel corrupt neo-liberal form of capitalism the poorest people were currently being terrorised by. I had some interesting conversations with intelligent people, wish I didn’t have to be at home alone almost every day. I went to a screening of the Palestinian documentary 5 Broken Cameras, I took notes and cried through that too. All those NZers there because of Palestine who refuse to address the same issues in New Zealand for poor worthless human sewage like me. That disabled poor NZers are losing their homes and means of growing food because of the lack of housing, especially over the past 30 years while the government has been trying to get rid of state housing. Now we are forced to rent and move repeatedly so we can’t grow food, I know I had to leave several gardens I had tended and spent money on, will never do it again – its too traumatic. Wish I was dead – our government and ACC think life in New Zealand is good for people like me rotting on welfare, they think we’re lucky – when we are treated worse than vermin.
What is the point in giving people charity if you are going to degrade, humiliate and abuse them for it? ACC put me through this so they dont’ have to provide me the treatment care and rehabilitation I am entitled to – I don’t know why they are doing this, I can’t understand when there are laws saying what I am entitled to that I am forced to do go through this nightmare, wanting to die every day as I’ve given up hope. The only reason I stay alive now is to protest and get care for other people, so the world is a better place for my children and their children, so they’re not raped and abused, so they have a chance and so do future generations. One day I will give up and kill myself, I look forward to that day.
HATE YOU AND HOPE WHAT I AM SUFFERING HAPPENS TO YOU – HOPE BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO YOU AND THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE, HOPE THERE IS A GOD AND WHEN YOU DIE YOU ARE SENT TO HELL FOR ETERNITY FOR WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO ME AND THOUSANDS OF OTHER ABUSED MEN WOMEN AND CHILDREN.