17.10.2022 2:53 pm

Now here's how much reality has consumed me. The laptop I'm typing on I bought specifically with Adam in mind. Whenever he switches off the lights on me. Boom. Light-up keyboard. He does this often:

I think Adam caught onto the ruse though. I guess with realizing I no longer reacted to what he's doing. He switched things up to attempting to toss my laptop outside on an inebriated night of his:

That was hurtful. I'd worked hard for that. My laptop. If I'm remembering correctly. It was only 5 nights old in the house when he first did it. I'm of the belief he just doesn't want me having access to technology and Wi-Fi. He's old, Adam, but still young enough to know what an escape it can be. Technology, Wi-Fi. Heck I'm making money through the two right now. My sub-consciousness is thanking me for being smart enough to know that was and would be paramount.

Otherwise. I think that maybe it was just me having something nice that ticked him off. I'm still very angry about how much of a bully he was for that. Oh Azura just got a knew laptop? Better get drunk and pretend to toss it outside just to upset her! That's what non-abusers do- amiright?

I sometimes wonder who's really the child between the two of us.

Anyway. I could've gotten a better one, but, for someone who only owned one in secondary school (thanks Kamala), the future is now. This thing connects to smartphones.

Without Bluetooth.

It's an Asus.... something.

With a light-up keyboard.

That's nice, I guess.

Anyway.

I'm thinking of the other reason I don't have an organ donor card.

I believe in euthanasia.

But I do not want to die.

But the organ donor card is there just in case.

I don't think my belief in euthanasia is necessarily the reason I have it.

It's more to do with my belief in recycling (not by choice, another time) than anything else.

Recycle plastic.

Recycle yourself.

I'll talk more on euthanasia and donating organs, but later on.

Anyway.

The name of said book would be titled, simply, "Euthanasia". I'd be about this young woman and her husband living in the near future. Maybe 2072. When the Euthanasia Recyling Campaign (ERC) begins. I'd imagine the real-life story of a young man being the precursor for such happening. I can't find the video, but I remember him. He suffered from psychological pain that would manifest as physical pains his entire life. That exists. It only got worse as he grew older. He spoke of euthanasia not being an option because of the illegality of it. So, instead of being put to sleep surrounded by his loved ones. Like they all wish. He had to get the job done quietly. Just went out one day. Could not tell his loved ones what he was going to do for fear of them seeing him off and being implicated for murder. So. Because of his sacrifice and story. Suicidal people would now have the choice go through a highly uncorrupted (looking at you St. Ann's, and not for no good reason) and monitored euthanasia programs at mental health facilities. It'd hopefully involve uncorrupted psychologist and psychiatrists reviewing patients' mental and physical health and options to improve it. And by proxy, their situations as well.

The program would (and should) do everything to make patients contemplate otherwise. And if that can't happen. They can choose to end their life. There's no well-known system that exist for that. Where patients get a legal choice. And assistance.

That. To me. Would at least lessen the chances of foul play being ruled as suicides. I'm thinking I'd quicker choose going to the Alleviation Room than to "Sylvia" in the kitchen or that tarot card. But unfortunately. The option doesn't exist yet.

And maybe for a good reason too. I can still see the ERC becoming corrupted. The system dog walking people they don't want around (non-suicidal people) into the Alleviation Room. Heck, it might even offer them easier and more secretive access to foul play.

That could happen.

That does happen.

Even now.

Anyway. I'll have to elaborate on the ERC story another time.

18.10.2022

5:48 pm

I missed my chance to get my Social Welfare form signed today:

I've missed it for three whole weeks thus far. Tuesdays and Fridays. That's the days I can get it signed. At Pembroke. But man is my timing waaaaaay off. If I do show up, it's too late to get it signed. And it is. I show up at like 11 am? Expecting to see the psychiatrists there.

But hey!

To be fair.

To me.

They say the clinic closes at 4 pm. But the psychiatrists and pharmacists are usually gone and closed by 12:

Same with the STI clinic, and with that, I'm sometimes thinking, okay, but what if I start showing symptoms of an STI/STD at 2 pm? ESPICIALLY WHEN THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO CLOSE AT 4!

So yeah. I arrived late today. I spoke with a social worker, but she didn't have the authority to sign it. Told me to come back on Friday, as I've been told twice prior. I'm thinking shit. Better luck next time. I'm hoping it's as easy to get a welfare allowance as it is to become an organ donor. I, already know, that that is a hopeless case. But damnit. I wish it were negotiable. I'll give you all my organs and tissues. Just help me out while I'm here, yeah?

Steupz.

Welp. I can only try. I'm still forced to eat Eve's food. And with finding cocoyea fexes under my sleeping area at the time. While living with her. And with being born amongst Spiritual Baptist members. That's not usually viewed as a good thing. Finding something under your bed. I worry about her sometimes. Eve. I was given two dressed by her recently. You could argue she was being nice. But even she had used me refusing Aleister's 2021 Christmas gift against me. It was a gift of clothes. Aleister, like Eve. Is partially responsible for my C-PTSD, PTSD. I didn't accept anything from her at the time. Not even food. The two, Eve and Aleister, were responsible for my upbringing. Adam never did it, and neither did King Herod.

And the cocoyea fexs. They said I put under my bed on purpose. Now I'll admit. Some things I do on purpose. Some things I do stage. But staging spiritual corruptibility? No. But I'd argue my intelligence might just be from Eve. That's only something she's brave, "thoughtful", hypocritical, and scatter-brained enough to do.

I did the best I could with being a Spiritual Baptist and with coming from a highly occult and spiritual land. I do need clothes. So, in a small shot glass I put drips of uncrossing oil, dismissal oil, and evil dispelling oil. Topped it off with some blue salt and black salt. Aleister had told me herself about not taking clothes from people just like that. Spoke of a cousin in her past. In Tobago. Also spoke of finding one side of her missing shoe in a cousin's bag. So, these things happen I suppose.

I'm so paranoid about eating her food. Eve's food. And again, the cocoyea fexs:

Was not a fan of that happening.

And after "unmounting" the dresses I received from Eve. She said she had two more for me.

Like.

Just three days later.

Haven't worn the dresses I got yet. And I don't expect the other two at all. I'd told her Adam didn't give me enough money for school today. As a joke. I'd gone to the shop again. She said no. Only said yes once in the 5 times I've asked her for money. But. I doubt she'd have any money for dresses with that. I'd still taken food from her today despite my distrust of her. I'd unwillingly fasted three days already with Adam only bringing stuff like bread home. And ALWAYS suggesting I go by Eve for food. My only other option for food and money for such would logically, be to steal. So I fast now to avoid Eve's free food for as long as I can. But otherwise. I do despise Eve. And Adam knows this, and Eve knows this. So I'd have to guess it's a tag team of who can keep me down and dependent the most. Because with a job and my own place. I would go no contact with both parties. Again, there's a reason why I'm dependent on Adam picking me up (because I don't have any money to travel to town on my own, I'm anorexic, so walking to and from will literally end me, and with having no food in the house usually I don't get to put on weight otherwise) at the house to take me to Eve. On the outside they'd seem like deeply devoted parents still trying to help an adult problem child when really, they were the ones who made the problem and want to keep it too.

My research told me they were narcissistic hoarder parents. Aleister ensured Eve would be her free-slave with Eve now working at the shop she owned. Even after being Aliester's house builder, maid, nurse and cook throughout her childhood and teens. That's a thing in the Caribbean. Still. They freed us after The Great Oppression simply because we would enslave our own. Do their job for them. I'd be a third generation free-slave if it were for my fight.

A part of my deprogramming is recognizing that even average abusers like to hoard their victims. Although succeeding with my physical space and movement, Adam and Eve both try and fail to hoard me mentally. I really don't know if Eve is willing to "fix" my food to get that done. And ultimately. I'd truly like to not be dependent on either of those crabs in a barrel.

Otherwise. The country's quiet recession is not keeping me hopeful for getting a job or my own place. It's $5 to get to town now. $10 to get back to Adam's house. Prices have been rising steadily over the last 9 months or so. Tortillaz is not $6 instead of the usually $5. Smarties are now 75 cents when they were 50 cents. And I'm still fishing for different money-making apps online. I found FreeCash two nights ago. Haven't downloaded it yet. But in this recession, I doubt it'd put a dent in anything.

7:45 pm

I have to wonder what the risperidone I'm taking is for. I feel like crying right now. Is that a sign it is or isn't working? Seroquel, I know is for bi-polar disorder and schizophrenia. Dogmatil, I know is for schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder and it may treat mild anxiety and depression. Risperidone I know is for schizophrenia, but can be used to treat bi-polar disorder and infantile autism.

I'm 24.

I wonder how schizophrenia meds are capable of treating bi-polar disorders too. I wonder what the verdict on my diagnosis is gonna be. Haven't been diagnosed yet.

Anyway. Dr. Edmund suggested a tentative stay at St. Ann's for a diagnosis. I recommended not. Not after the first lock up. Hell no. The alternative was.... I don't remember. But there was one. It involved me not being at St. Ann's. I chose that. I'm at a bust with Pembroke. I was caught recording my sessions... Twice... Which... in the grand scheme of things were good things. Dr. Edmund told me it would be unfair to her to have the session recorded by me. And I did not agree. Although I told her I did. I, as someone who was treated unfairly by the mental healthcare system the first time around and is still not being treated properly. I. By all means. Should be able to record whenever and whatever the fuck I want to.

If you ask me.

It's like they NEVER want to acknowledge when corruption slips through the cracks- no- not cracks. The big gaping hole that is the corrupt system. I'd still like to speak to the doctor that decided my committal. I'd like her to walk me through the process of why it was okay to commit me over hearsay. When I had evidence against the bullshit Daniel and Adam were spewing that night.

How can I trust they'd be doing the right thing, ever? I still had to spit out my medication into the toilet at St. Ann's AFTER explaining to the nurse that it was too strong for me. Extremely sedative. It's a miracle I made it through my release evaluation. I thought I'd be speaking Spanish throughout it with whatever the fuck they had me on. Anyway. That whole situation still has me frustrated af. I'm still mad about that. They might as well had put me in jail.

Wait.

I think they did.

Anyway. Dr. Edmund did offer up the St. Ann's voluntary committal first (after Hamblet). I showed up a day just to collect my meds. And did. But not without being told I should agree to a recommittal because my hair was a mess and my clothes not appropriate for leaving the house. I expected that Adam would've waited outside but he drove off on me like he would sometimes. We didn't fight that morning or the night before. That's another one of his Bully Maguire tatics. Random bullying for no fucking apparent reason. Leaving me to walk the streets in my pajamas.

And I'm struggling mentally. If you see me showing up for my meds like I haven't left my bed. It's because I need them. As one can see.

I got upset that it was my hair, that's what Dr. Edmund and well, everyone else would notice. I wanted my hair to just grow after a while. I don't wanna cut it, and I don't wanna lose it. I had no responsibilities like a job. So I let it do its thing. It looked cool some days:

And not so cool on other days:

I'm 40% done with getting it untangled. Front and top center is all that's left to do. That's been even more maddening. The undoing of it all. I'm not ready to do that yet, damnit.

Speaking of witch (lol get it?). I'd made something. An ointment. I call it Eggshell Cream. Each ingredient is meant to be anti-inflammatory. Illipe Butter, Kokum Butter, Sal Seed Butter, Cocoa Butter, Mango Butter, Rosmary Oil, Peppermint Oil, Fenugreek Oil, Benjamin's Healing Oil, and Canadian Healing Oil.

With eggshell powder:

With taking a hand blender to it, I'd found it had the fluffiest consistency. Like my conditioner. That surprised me. I thought it'd have come out like peanut butter or shea. It works for my singular itchy left nipple and my back aches.

It also works as a good hair detangler.

19.10.2022 2:52 pm

It's 2:53 pm right now. I cleaned up my "bedroom" area. Attempted and partially succeeded with fulling out my social welfare forms. I'm hoping for financial assistance and not just a food card. I'd be off their assistance quicker so. Someone else in need could get a chance at assistance that way. Unless the goal is to keep people like me dependent on the system. Which... is not far-fetched to think at all. Otherwise. I have no idea what to do with the calabashes I have on the kitchen counter. Had them about a week now. Wanted to make a bowl and bucket dipper. Adam says I'd need a hacksaw blade to cut them open. They sell cheap. The blades. He says. Now all I got figure out is how I'm getting the actual hacksaw. They look like small melons. The calabashes. I see them from my "bed":