Cousin Rachel

My cousin Rachel committed suicide in 2004. She was 41 years old. She overdosed on medication.

We weren't super close. Our families lived 2000 miles apart.

However, I was saddened to hear of her passing. I didn't know she was struggling so hard. I don't know if anyone did.

Rachel had what is termed "medication resistant depression."

People, including mental health and medical professionals, have a tendency to treat medication as a be all and end all. It isn't. For some of us (like Rachel and my son) it simply doesn't work. 

For others, like me, the "cure" is worse than the problem. I react badly to most medications. For instance, SSRI's, the darlings of the psych industry, cause me to become manic and psychotic, two things which I am usually not and I don't enjoy either of them. I have type 2 bipolar disorder, which causes hypomania rather than full mania and does not have psychotic features.

I am not the only one that SSRI's do this to. Motley Crue's Mick Mars describes a similar experience with SSRI's in the band's book, "The Dirt." Mick has a debilitating musculoskeletal condition called ankylosing spondylitis. When the doctor noted he was depressed, Mick said: "tell me something I don't know."

The doctor's response was to put Mick on SSRI's, which triggered psychotic episodes. Rather than questioning if the medication might be doing this, the doctor put Mick on antipsychotics, which really messed him up. Fortunately, Mick is a smart guy and realized that it was highly unlikely that he'd suddenly developed schizophrenia, which usually onsets earlier in life. (Mick was in his mid-fifties at the time of these events.) He stopped taking the medication and his mental state returned to normal.

At one point I was put on Zoloft, which caused me to feel as if my brain had grown tiny hands and was trying to pick its way out of my head. When I told the doctor this, he admonished me to stay on the medication. I didn't. Within a few days, my brain no longer had tiny hands. Amazing how that works!

Many people, including medical professionals, treat patients with psychological anomalies as if they are failures if their depression/anxiety/psychosis does not get better. Its bad enough living with these conditions and knowing we will never be "normal" even if we pass for "normal." It's worse when we're being shamed for something we can't change on top of having to live with it. 

I give a derisive laugh in the general direction of everyone who ever told a person with a mood disorder to "just cheer up," "just snap out of it," "just stop thinking that way," "don't be a Debbie Downer," or other such brilliant and witty admonitions.

I realize that it's a rare thing for me to be happy. The times when I thought I was happy I was actually giddy. It's not the same thing. Before finally learning when I was nearly forty that I had bipolar disorder rather than depression with anxiety or adult ADD or any of the other things that I had been diagnosed with, hypomanic states could be easily triggered by environmental factors. 

These states involved magical thinking. By magical thinking, I don't mean that I believed the genie from the lamp was there granting wishes or that I could control the weather with my mind. I mean that I believed I was finally happy and that I would never be unhappy again. I admonished myself that I would stay this way forever. When the elevated mood inevitably wore off, I was left with a high degree of self-loathing to contend with as well as a depressed mood.

I can't say for certain, but I wonder if Rachel might not have committed suicide if she'd been encouraged to accept herself as she was rather than admonished to "get better."

People with psych anomalies have the double-edged sword of not only being treated as "bad" and "wrong" but as failures if we don't comply and "improve." We are told that we are "being lazy," "not trying hard enough," "seeking attention," and any other number of harsh criticisms.

Stop trying to "fix" us and stop telling us that we need to be "fixed." 

Accept us or leave us alone.

~Cie~ 

The Cheese Grates It: Drawing Parallels

I couldn't find an appropriate picture, so here's a picture of a Babirusa

I know that I'm pretty much the most defensive person in the world and that I likely overreacted to certain things that people said recently. I have a tendency to do that. As a friend pointed out, certain things which got my hackles up were well-intentioned. All I can do is to apologize and to hopefully explain why sometimes well-intentioned statements about developing a brighter outlook can rub a person who lives with a mood disorder the wrong way.

I think the best way to explain it is to draw a parallel to certain other conditions I live with which are strictly physical conditions, but which can also affect my moods.

I have diabetes.

I would like to draw a parallel between my use of insulin to control my blood sugar and my use of dark, sometimes hyperbolic poetry as an outlet for the bleakness that often inundates my mind.

My body produces little if any of its own insulin at this point. Insulin helps the body process sugar in the blood. Without it, the high sugar levels begin to cause damage to the vascular system. 

Now, let's say someone were to say to me "if you'd just act like people who have a normal pancreas, you'd learn to be like people with a normal pancreas."

To which my reply would be "I will literally never be like people with a normal pancreas because my pancreas doesn't work normally."

"Yes, but if you behave like people with a normal pancreas, your pancreas will start to behave normally."

"No. It literally will not. If I try to behave like people with a normal pancreas, my elevated blood sugar will start to damage my body fairly quickly."

"Really, though, Positive Pancreatic Thinking will heal your faulty pancreas!"

At this point, somebody might be getting stabbed with an insulin needle, and it isn't going to be me.

Most people can see that the above scenario is a bit ridiculous (although anyone with diabetes can tell you that we've heard a million and one tales of "miracle cures" for our condition.) However, a lot of people can't see that they're doing a very similar thing when telling someone who lives with a mood disorder that if they just practice positive thinking they'll become a normal, happy person. It literally doesn't work that way.

I'll be 53 years old in February. 

I had my first mixed episode when I was ten. I didn't know that's what it was then, but with the knowledge I've gained, I now know that's exactly what it was.

I had my first severe depressive episode when I was twelve. I also became bulimic and made my first half-assed suicide attempt by swallowing a bunch of aspirin, which made me sick. 

I was labeled as overly dramatic and attention seeking and told countless times to just stop thinking and acting as I did.

I've learned a lot of coping techniques over the years. One of the ways I channel the darkness rather than cutting myself or self-medicating is by writing.

I've been through a lot of undesired changes this year.

I live with chronic pain and am not sure how long I'll be able to keep working. My situation is precarious. 

I would never tell someone who tends to have a positive outlook on things that they need to create things that are dark and gloomy. However, people don't think twice about telling me that I need to write things that are more cheerful and that I need to have a brighter outlook.

It also minimizes and belittles my struggles when people say things which imply that what I'm going through is some sort of a phase. If it's a phase, it's a damn long one. It's lasted most of my life.

Sometimes I write funny stuff. I actually do have a sense of humor, which most people don't get.

Perhaps people like me do serve a purpose. We often have high levels of empathy. Perhaps by pointing out the hurtful things in the world we can teach others to be kinder.

Hell, I don't know. I haven't figured it out yet and I rather doubt I'm going to.

I do know that I like German chocolate cake. That much I've figured out for certain. I wish I had some right now.

My mind doesn't work like yours. I know most of you can't understand a mind like mine, but I ask you to please try to respect that maybe people like me do know our own minds and maybe it would be nice to be treated not as broken half-people who need to be fixed, but as whole and worthy of consideration exactly as we are.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

This is my Always Keep Fighting tattoo.

It's a real, permanent tattoo.

Some days its easier to keep fighting than others.

This is a reminder for me to keep fighting on those days too.

It's also a tribute to me and those like me.

The Cheese Grates It + OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 29: Beautiful Ugly People

Beautiful Ugly People

Not seen as pretty outside

And the insides are too dark

The world tells them to hide

Sometimes they refuse to hide

They risk everything although they are

Not seen as pretty outside

Sometimes it hurts to have pride

Even though they have much to offer

The world tells them to hide

Copyright Prometeus +123RF.com 

It's hard to believe in the beauty inside

When you hear every day how ugly you are

Not seen as pretty outside

If you've a best friend who's along for the ride

It can be easier to make the scene although

The world tells them to hide

Per Ohlin

January 16, 1969 - April 8, 1991

If no-one sees the tears that you've cried

It's harder to be walking alone when you're

Not seen as pretty outside

The world tells them to hide

Love,

Cie

Note:

For better or worse, here's my crack at a Villanelle.

I'll be finishing out the challenge because I'm not a quitter, but I won't be sharing any more of my work. Honestly, it's a little tiresome when the only poems anyone wants to read are bright, chipper little odes to spring and twoo wuv. 

I'm sure everyone would have told Edgar Allan Poe to "just cheer up" too. 

I will leave everyone with the thought that maybe people whose minds work differently aren't broken things to be fixed and perhaps the reason we tend to hide and suffer in silence is because any time we share what's on our mind, we are admonished to "stop that stinkin' thinkin'" or are told that one day we'll straighten up and fly right, the often unstated piece being "and if you don't, you're a loser who just didn't try hard enough.
Believe it or not, I actually do have a "light half." I have a blog with no political rants or bleak ruminations whatsoever. It's mostly pictures of plants and nature. It can be found at http://cieswonderfulworld.tumblr.com

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

Communications, Compromise, Tolerance, Intolerance and the need for Female Guidance in matters Monotheistic.

I wrote and posted this on my personal blog three years ago. I repost it here as I firmly believe a truth is well repeating. I have made some amends, some changes, but the thrust of the piece remains the same. Communication requires compromise requires commitment. The three C's form a holy trinity.

There will have to be, at some stage in the tempestuous history of humankind, a line drawn in the sand where we, whatever faith we each may subscribe to, broaden our outlook and embrace the concept that all faiths are equal; all faiths are right and, by the same token, all faiths are flawed. A day must dawn when dogma and doctrine accept that compromise is not necessarily a sacrilegious fracture but an unavoidable fact of life. For without compromise the only alternative is a tribal conflict, a constant clash of ideologies that can only end in more innocent deaths with the only winners the lunatics who masquerade as religious zealots; and lets face it, people who kill others are not in truth religious in any shape or form, they are nothing more than a collection of like-minded individuals who tag their twisted insanity onto the back of faith so that they can best legitimise their base beliefs. However, there can be no denying that Monotheism, by virtue of its holy books, not only allows for such acts but positively encourages their followers to employ such methods. Religion causes war.and the holy books that the faithful read condone these acts.These holy books need to be amended now.

There exists at this point in time a depraved desire to be tolerant of all faiths. It is as if we should not speak out when one faith or another, and I am speaking of Monotheism here, commits some atrocity. Rather than standing up and speaking out we tend to back-off by suggesting that tolerance is the only way to behave in the face of blatant intolerance. It isn't. Not when some lunatic fake Muslim or mad fake Christian blows up someone or beheads them in the street.

As I have said before, I know and have met a considerable amount of Christians and Muslims and Jews; not one of those I have encountered have been anything but kind, loving souls whose only desire is to live in peace with their neighbours while being allowed the generally accepted human right of living their lives according to their faith. Not every Christian subscribes to the view of the IRA and by the same token, not every Muslim is a member of Al Qaeda nor is every Afghanistan a member of the Taliban. These extreme groups with their self-satisfying violent principles are nothing more than a sad, dark reflection of humanities more unpleasant side and there remains only one way to confront them and that is by communication. Having said that Islam needs to evolve its ways, to re-think how best to speak the word of Allah, separating it from that of man the better to progress the faith and harness harmony.

The organised religions of the world will have to, if not sooner then later, sit down with an agenda that proposes a way forward, a way out of the clash of religious titans, a way out of the impending Armageddon that is growing ever likely day by day as the world’s two largest faiths square up to each other with the only object being the single domination of world religion. The idea of having one faith dominate is a frightening thought as it leaves no room for any form of individuality at all, no room for tolerance, no room for acceptance, no room for compromise. There are those who have no particular faith to live by that have their own life codes; these too are good people who broadly speaking adopt and live by similar principles as those shared by Islam and Christianity. The principles of love and peace are not the exclusive remit of either of the two larger faiths but are ideals the majority of people share.

There are those among us who hold firm to the belief that organised faith, specifically Christianity and Islam are the causes of many of the world’s conflicts and without either mankind would be free of war and of secular division. I think this is, broadly speaking, true. Religion has brought untold horrors onto mankind. However, as long as man has a hole in his arse he will manufacture ways to wage war. Having books that not only accept that but positively encourage it is something we should challenge.

Of course, there are, and always will be, those who suggest that compromise is nothing but admitting defeat, giving in, but it is nothing of the sort. It is fine not to compromise one's principles when creating art as the object of creativity is to be unfettered and free of such limiting factors but when faced with human life compromise must be faced, embraced, utilised to heal the rift that exists and to act as a balm to help heal the wounds of discord. 

So much of the reluctance to accept compromise surely comes from the fragile male ego? So many strictures and foolhardy rules are placed upon us men from birth. To be free of such inane doctrines of gender would free and liberate not the only alpha male in us but would grant our weaker gender a potent, level-headed, female ability to accept that in any community a degree of compromise has to be given.

This, of course, will prove to be the fatal flaw in my argument as the big three faiths are governed by the rules of men, certainly not of God as surely the supreme being would not be so shackled to the self-same frail human logic, and they may find that adopting anything mildly viewed as of being female is not justification enough to allow a debate let alone adapt a doctrine to. Nonetheless, we have the evidence of ages, of our collective human history to review and revisit to see that it is our inability to even think of a compromise that has caused so many problems.

One only has to look at the references made about women in the three major monotheist’s religious works to know that women and all things female are considered to be somehow weaker than the male variant. The natural physical differences are often employed to highlight the male’s superior physicality. This may be the generally accepted view which in itself is only true in the majority of cases but not as a given fact as there are some individual women who are equally capable of defending themselves, equally physically strong. The male physique is by and large more robust, more powerful but I strongly doubt that any man in his right mind would like to have the greater part of his life punctuated by blood or voluntarily go through childbirth. Men may be physically stronger but they are no tougher, no more resistant to pain than women, in fact, I would be so bold as to suggest that women are as naturally resistant to pain as men are naturally larger and more able to lift heavy objects.

But I don’t want to dwell on what has been discussed to the point of tedium regarding equality, nor do I want to go over historically ‘old ground’. My point is this; the three big monotheist faiths: Judaism, Christianity and Islam all have doctrines that are founded on the fear of women rather than the respect of them. All three faiths and I appreciate that all have somewhat evolved and during that evolution changed their opinions and practises but still the fact remains, as does the dogma passed down by countless years of tradition, that women are to be feared not followed.

That fear manifests itself into being seen as a weakness, a sentimentality that prevents female emotion and the natural desire to protect offspring at any cost as lacking the steel reserve of men. This is a false ideology as in point of fact it is women who are tougher and whose nature given desire to provide security to those in their protectorate grants them the intellectual and emotional ability to see the logic in compromise. Women are stronger by far than men. They may not have the same musculature but they are able to deal with pain far better. Anyone who has their lives punctuated by blood and who are able to give birth has to be tougher both mentally and physically than their male counterparts. A man is more likely than a woman to violently protect his territory whereas a women is more likely to protect her offspring at any cost and with as equal a violence as that produced by any male but with the additional layer of emotion that so many males do not have; the vision to see that compromise will benefit the family, the herd, the tribe, the nation and therefore grant security to all.

We need more women (there already are a growing number) to take hold of Islam, replace its hormone imbalance with more Oestrogen.  We need the fairer sex to lead us to a fairer world, one not frightened of compromise, one prepared to communicate.

Obviously, I am not suggesting that women are a paragon of peaceful virtue, that would be wantonly misleading of me to make such a suggestion. Women too can be equally cruel and violent, equally as barbaric as men in times of war. We only have to recall Boudica of the Iceni, that ancient British warrior queen who plagued the Roman forces to know what an angry woman can do. Then there was Queen Elizabeth the first who was born with a steel rod running through her. Both were capable of horrendous deeds but that is not the point I am making. Women, by nature and as a general rule, like to bring peace and stability where ever possible as this provides them with a sense of security. It is only after that security has been broken that they will open their claws to strike.

Something like 95 % of the world’s scientists now agrees that Global Warming is going to bring cataclysmic changes to our globe. The majority agree that the human race has added to these natural changes and should now play their part in acting responsibly with the world’s resources. It is a situation that may see, ultimately, the greatest challenge we humans have yet faced but still, in the face of forces far greater than our selves we prevaricate and delay. This same evasion is evident in our disagreements. One side takes one point of view whilst the other side does the polar opposite. With war though, rather than nothing being done, a vile,  horror is unleashed and once initiated the juggernauts remorselessly roll on clashing against each other until one or other destructs or rusts.

This need not be the case. Communication is not acquiescence nor is a compromise defeat. Perhaps it is now time for more women to lead us as they have the courage to engage in communication with even the fiercest of foes whilst recognising compromise as a tool for peace and not as a state of concession.

However, before we even begin to think of communication and compromise first we must deal with the faiths that allow and encourage such acts of terror.The Bible and Koran contain many murderous instructions suggesting violence is right in given circumstances. It is not. It never has been nor ever will be. Monotheism must alter those passages, delete them or better still educate those who practise these acts that these passages were written long ago and have no place in the modern world.

"Tolerance of intolerance is cowardice." We must, at all costs, confront and challenge such acts and demand that organised religion expunge all and any texts that encourage violence from their books.  To this end, we need women to lead the way for the males of that species seem incapable of such foresight.

OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 26: Wrong For This World

George Hodan

Wrong For This World

(The tale of Yours Truly and Pepper Baiij, the flawed female protagonist of Team Netherworld's WIP tale, Fetch)

You are wrong for this world, my schoolmates said

You're weird and scary and ugly too

No-one wants to be friends with you

Piotr Siedlecki

They're right, you know, my inner voice hissed

Echoing the derision or my peers

You are wrong for this world, my schoolmates said

Piotr Siedlecki

I was always off on flights of fancy to other worlds

To silence the hateful voices telling me

You're weird and scary and ugly too

Piotr Siedlecki

Sometimes a gentle voice told me I was loved 

But the other voice just laughed and mocked me

No-one wants to be friends with you

Dawn Hudson

Space cadet, the other students sneered

Upon discovering my love for dreaming of the stars

My yearning for a place where I could be free

Dawn Hudson

I always wondered if it were possible

Perhaps I had some sort of hidden worth

Space cadet, the other students sneered

Copyright Lemat Works

You need to stop telling people crazy stories
Try to be more like normal girls, my parents said
Upon discovering my love for dreaming of the stars

Suicidal Ideation by Megan Li

Locked up in the psych ward for a weekend
Is where I ended up in my desperation to pursue
My yearning for a place where I could be free

By any means necessary

~Cie and Pepper~

Cie Vs. Dementia

Buy it here.

100% of proceeds go to the Alzheimer's Association

All right, people, time to get real. I know I'm not popular or pretty or any of that other krap that people are supposed to be, but this isn't about me. I designed this shirt, and for the next four days, all proceeds will go to the Alzheimer's Association. Even if you don't like me that much, I think we can all agree that dementia is even worse than I am. So, buy something interesting and help the Alzheimer's Association fight this lousy disease.

~The Real Cie~

The Cheese Grates It + OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 25: Don't Buy the Bullshit

This image was found in multiple places and I am unable to determine its origin.

If anyone knows the origin of the image, I will be glad to properly credit its creator.

Don't Buy the Bullshit

Nobody

Has the right

To make you feel

Bad about your body

Never apologize

To anybody

For your body

Those busybodies

Who think it's okay

To belittle others' bodies

Need to take a long walk

Off a short pier

Into shark-infested waters

With raw steaks

Tied to their bodies

The Cheese

No Longer Apologizing for My Body

Note:

I am not officially participating in today's OctPoWriMo prompt, although I did create a poem in spite of the fact that I initially wasn't going to because die-t talk is such a turn-off for me. However, I have to keep in mind that many people haven't been lucky enough to find Size Acceptance and Health At Every Size as I did. This is why I share here my response to this prompt.

If I hadn't found size acceptance and health at every size at age 45 (seven years ago now) I would be 52 and still hating myself and calling myself horrific names like "fat pig" and "disgusting land whale." Thanks to my myriad of endocrine problems plus DNA (my mother's side of the family tends to be heavy, and to have endocrine problems) I will never be thin unless I develop a deadly disease such as acute myelogenous leukemia as my great-grandmother did. She went from 300 pounds to 95 in the space of a year, and then the disease killed her.

It isn't being a "foodie" that determines a person's body type. The multi-billion dollar die-t industry has doctors and the FDA in its pocket. Most so-called diseases of obesity are actually diseases which become more likely with aging in people of all sizes. 

I worked with the elderly for close to 25 years. There are elderly people of all sizes. The idea that there are no fat old people is a fallacy. Fat old people are no less healthy than old people of other sizes. In fact, many of the fat older folk that I worked with were reasonably healthy. There was one portly gent in his nineties who was a diabetic and still taking care of himself. I worked night shift and only heard from him on one occasion: when he hurt his hand.

Nobody needs to apologize to anyone for their body type. It's really not something we can help and trying to change it tends to result in temporary weight loss with more weight ensuing. Dieting is horrible for the metabolism. 

I am not the best person to explain the science behind this. I recommend these blogs:

danceswithfat.wordpress.com

bigfatscience.tumblr.com

Ragen Chastain, the blogger behind Dances With Fat, is a competitive dancer who participates in marathons. She is five foot four inches tall and weighs 280 pounds. 

For my own part, I sometimes can't afford more than one meal a day and I work a very physical job. Still fat. However, unlike in the past, I don't give myself added stress by hating myself for my weight.

I hope you'll consider my thoughts. Too many people hurt themselves hating the bodies we were given to live in. There's nothing wrong with your body or your love for good food.

Here are some bodies that people have been shamed for having.

Too short and skinny to be "manly"

In good health for someone in his age range

Too short and skinny to be "manly"

Terminally ill/multiple health issues

Too fat to be "attractive."

In good health for someone in his age range

Too short and skinny to be "manly"

Died from stomach cancer at age 67

Too fat to be "attractive"

Shot to death at age 24

Too short and skinny to be "manly"

In good health for someone in his age range

Too fat to be "attractive"

In good health and putting up with no bullshit from haters

Dare you speak ill of the Queen of Soul?

I wish there had been a Beth Ditto around when I was younger

Maybe I wouldn't have abused my body with years of dieting and myself with years of hate for "failing" at dieting

When I opened this photo of Adele, one of the first suggested searches that came up was "flattering hairstyles for overweight women."

May I just say, fuck that shit.

Fuck "flattering," and over what weight?

The B in BMI stands for Bullshit.

The BMI is an actuarial tool. It was never meant to be used as a measure of health.

We need to stop conflating our worth with a number on a scale.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 22: Empty Road

http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=112934&picture=path-between-trees

Empty Road

Passion

Ain't gonna happen

Bliss

What is this?

On a journey without a compass

Or too many compasses

And clocks

Depending on one's perspective

The long and winding road

Is a crooked path

Rolling on

To the bitter end

I'm ready for nothing

~Cie~

Note:

I'm afraid the idea of "following my bliss" seems absolutely ludicrous to me. 

When I'm unsure if I'll have adequate food for the week or if my body will allow me to keep working or if my car will keep working so I can do my job or if the space heaters will be enough to handle another winter in my home where I don't have a working furnace or shower and I know the pipes are going to freeze like they do every year, the concept of "bliss" seems a lot like buying outlandishly expensive champagne when I don't even like champagne.

Fuck "bliss." I'll settle for simply not being worked into the ground and having nothing to show for it.

OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 21: Nothing Remains the Same

Copyright: rolffimages / 123RF Stock Photo

Nothing Remains the Same

Adapt to everything, no matter how awful

Because that's the only way to achieve balance

Comfort zone equals complacency

Dreams do not equal destiny

Everything ends

Fate cannot be fought

Good things come to those with goals

However, life does not always end happily

Insistence on an outcome is idiocy

Just go where the flow takes your jetty

Kill your darlings kindly

Let yourself not be lulled

Mediocrity has no merit

Nostalgia is neediness

Ownership is oblivion

Precious dreams are predators

Quiet hopes quelled

Reduced to ash by reality

Stagnation is seductive

To those who fear transformation

Unhappy are those unyielding

Vying for the desired outcome is vanity

Wishing to avoid change is weak

Xenophobic

Yearning for yesterday

Zaps today's zeal

~Cie~

Note:

I honestly think some of the ideas we are taught about living for today are quite lacking in empathy for those grieving a loss. This poem is cold and harsh, not encouraging in any way.

OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 19: The Hunt

Image Source

Playful red fox leaping in the snow

There are those who only know

To hunt and kill you for sport

Painting their cheeks red with blood to show

How crafty they think they are

They malign you as cunning and thieving

So no-one would think to be grieving

The murder of a creature who causes such trouble

If they have everyone believing 

The lies that they creatively tell

The hunt will go on

~Cie~

The Cheese Grates It + OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 15: Filthy Rich

A collage of images from the video "20 most annoying spoiled rich kids on Snapchat." https://youtu.be/-IqNMU6VOPg

Filthy Rich

Sometimes when I make a delivery

To someone who lives in the kind of home

That I can't even afford to look at

And will surely never live in

I feel a little sick

Some say it's the fault of the working class

That we aren't able to live in homes like that

They believe they are actually superior

They say things like

You don't expect me to live like people

Who make $25,000 a year

Do you?

As I bring their snacks to the door

Sometimes up a long flight of steps

My knees and ankles ache

The party music pounding

I wait for the rich little shit

Who inevitably ordered the grub

He smiles smugly as he looks down his nose

Says "How ARE you" with a smirk

Either knowing full well that I know he doesn't give a fuck

Or thinking I'm too stupid to realize

He thinks of me as dog shit on his shoe

I smile as if I didn't hate his kind

With the virulent passion of explosive diarrhea

The best that I can hope

Is that he's not a total waste of oxygen

That there's a soul somewhere behind the veneer

He takes his snacks inside and slams the door

No tip forthcoming for the contract worker

Who can't afford health insurance

Whose Medicaid got pulled when she found this job

Because she now makes the queenly sum

Of $2000 a month

I limp back to the car on legs well abused

By working many years of physical jobs

Legs which don't work quite right because of repeated back injuries

And arthritis forming in the joints

The snob thinks that those like me deserve our fate

After all, we've chosen to be down and out

I feel sick to my stomach

Not just because I'll never be able

To afford a place like his

But also because, even with as much as I'm struggling

There are those worse off than me

Still, I'd like to vomit on his lawn

As much as I may envy

The things that those like him are able to have

The thought of not having to worry about money

I don't envy their kind at all

I don't want to be like them

I'd never want to be the sort

Who thinks that I'm so much better

Then the person who's made my life a little easier

By bringing me the things I can afford to buy

And have delivered on a whim

Yet having so little class

That I couldn't even be bothered

To give them a few dollars

To buy a little lunch

I often feel quite nauseous

When forced to be in the presence

Of the classless, filthy rich

~The Cheese Hath Grated It Poetically~

Note:

I deliver groceries for a living, not only to rich neighborhoods. Some of the neighborhoods I deliver to make me hope that I get out of there without being mugged. I don't look down on the people living there. I might have ended up in one of these places easily enough. As it happens, I ended up in a run-down mobile home without a working furnace or shower in a reasonably quiet suburban area with a seedy underbelly. None of my direct neighbors are cooking meth, but several meth labs have been broken up in places close by.

I am a 1099-R contractor. This means that I don't get any benefits from my employer. I also do my own accounting. If you're self-employed and don't already have an accountant or use Quickbooks Self-Employed, you may thank me for the link I'm about to give you which will save you some money when you sign up for Quickbooks Self-Employed. http://fbuy.me/fFN2W 

My first three months cost me $10 each. I now pay $18 per month, and it's well worth it. Life would be an even bigger mess without it.

I honestly did not write this poem as an advertisement for Quickbooks Self-Employed. It is a very real reflection of my life.

My legs hurt all the time. There are days when I get severe calf cramps that literally leave me writhing and screaming. I am not sure how long I'll be able to continue doing this kind of work.

I literally can't afford health insurance.

I am still catching up on back bills from the four months when I was underemployed. I don't know if I'll ever catch up.

I am diabetic, and there are days when I can't afford to eat. Not that anyone should ever have to go a day without eating, but being diabetic makes it extra special. I make "too much money" to qualify for food benefits. A great deal of what I make goes into car maintenance and fuel. Yes, I can "write it off," but that isn't as big of a deal as it sounds like.

My job does have certain advantages which are a big deal. I make my own schedule every week. I don't have to work the typical five days a week nine to five schedule, which is a schedule that causes me to fall into a literal depression. I don't do well with five-day weeks, I don't do well with early shifts, and I don't do well with jobs where there's a boss standing over me for the whole shift.

I can't do health care work anymore because of my diabetes. I got fired from the homecare job I was doing earlier this year because I fell asleep during the shift. I literally thought I'd had a TIA because that was how deep the sleep I'd fallen into was. I still don't remember it happening, I only remember the outcome. It devastated my life, and I still haven't recovered financially or emotionally. I often feel like a failure because of this incident.

I live with not only debilitating physical illness but catastrophic mental illness: type 2 bipolar disorder, plus obsessive-compulsive disorder with hoarding features (believe me, that one's a struggle to fight with. The hoarding involves items, not animals.) and borderline personality disorder. To my credit, I have learned to cope fairly well with this trifecta of shit. There are certain things that my fucked-up circadian rhythms still won't let me do, like working the early shifts that people get pats on the back for. When people find out that I work late shifts preferentially, they always look at me like I'm going to give them some sort of disease if I touch them. Yet our 24-7 society would collapse if no-one were willing to work those Weirdo Shifts.

I'm not expecting a medal for any of my struggles. However, being treated with a modicum of common decency would be nice.

If you're one of those people who thinks that the company your delivery driver is working for pays them such a fine sum that you don't have to give them a tip, think twice. Fedex and UPS pay actual salaries with benefits and their drivers don't take tips. 

The person who delivers items such as food and groceries is making a base wage of around $5 per hour. In the case of my company, I then make $1 for every delivery within a five-mile radius and $3 for every delivery outside the five-mile radius. As I mentioned previously, I make no benefits. The work is physically demanding, and we are often working short of help. 

Even a modest ten percent tip really helps.

I try not to feel bitter when people don't tip, but I can't help it when they could obviously afford to but think they're too good to do so.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~