sweetheart in TogoRe: Disabled Sponsor, Sweetheart in Togo
:'(
Hi, friends.
As to Mrs. Cannuck: I apologize for calling you an extremely ignorant person. My only defense is not only am I hurting badly, but you pushed buttons with your cliches and assumptions about my life--what I'm trying to do to help myself or not trying; about the CNIB, etc.
As to the one who told me not to get angry with Mrs. C., I'm sorry but I'm not her child, I'm not eight years old, and I have not been caught smoking. She has the right to tell me what she knows is the truth about the subject at hand: immigration and visas--not the right to berate me or tell me how to live.
That is unacceptable, and offensive to me.
Berating someone does NOT make them feel happy, so if that is what she is trying to do, she needs to learn better tactics.
I am, however, sorry for the personal attacks.
I don't like it when people act self-righteous or like they can just say any old thing to someone they don't know, in the name of "tough love".
I don't have the relationship with Mrs. C., that she can treat me that way. She is not my mother nor my older sister, nor any kind of friend. At least, not offline, and we have not shared the kind of life experiences that would give her that kind of right.
I'll tell you who I will listen to--and that's most of you, especially Obrannobini, who has approached me with Christlike humility throughout this whole thing.
She has made no cliches, no assumptions about me. She (woops, I'm sorry, maybe I mean he--LOL), has made every effort to imagine what I must be suffering day to day, and how I've tried to alleviate that suffering. I have tried every way I can think of. This individual, and most of the forum's posters, have treated me with this same humility and graciousness.
Remembering that we are strangers, and that I have asked for help in this one area.
I appreciate this help. But when it goes over the line, I'm sorry, no, I don't appreciate that.
I will not be treated like an eight-year-old who has been caught smoking.
There are better practitioners of tough love on this forum, and I will listen to them.
The one or two who have shown themselves over the line in some way ... let's agree to disagree, shall we?
And I thank the poster who asked for a little slack. I really do.
Eugene's glistening-fur voice was in my ear again, asking for money, and I said no. He asks am I glad for him not to be in Canada forseventeen months, and I said, not glad, but it's realistic. There is no quick way to get into Canada.
I didn't tell him this, yet: but I will. I do not want to be with anyone who doesn't have the patience to go through proper channels. Until I joined this forum, I didn't know what those proper channels were. Now that I do, and have passed that knowledge along to him, I have more strength to
stand on.
By the way, I did NOT send the whole 2500. I sent him all but nine hundred, for which I will pay my long distance bills, and live on, etc.
Really, this whole thing with Mrs. C. has soured my experiences on the forum. I am emotionally fragile, and must be handled with care, even when dispensing tough love.
I am in tears alot, because I'm coming out of this fever. The lovely dreams are being replaced by the lonely apartment, and my strength is sapped.
I have tried churches, but no matter what I try, I can't get anyone to see me as anything but a disabled person--now more so that I've contracted other diseases.
Canadians can be very cold people.
Accessing some minds can be damned hard, and I'm so tired. Tired.
My experience on the forum have been soured by a couple of people, and I know that's not right, but at the moment I can't help it.
I came here for information, not to get my hands slapped off by someone who knows me less than Eugene does.
I'm sorry for the personal attacks, but the rest of my message still stands.
Besides, what you can find on the web about CNIB or any other organization supposed to serve the disabled is what they want you to think. In their own way, they're scammers, too. Why would you donate to an organization whose website says, "We are no longer hiring blind people. We have shut down our employment department, so we no longer teach blind people how to go about getting a job. There's not a blind person who knows us very well, who is happy with our service. And that stuff about volunteers for the blind is so much fluff. We haven't got very many volunteers, and those we do have, choose how much they do."
Those we do have don't choose to go to Scarborough to help one, known on this forum as Miss Thea
During the nearly two years of my isolation, I have been busy phoning this volunteer agency and that church, to no avail. I have been on the psych ward, suicidally depressed because no matter what I do, I can not make my life any better. Social workers come and go, and as long as I cannot get out to what little there is, there is nothing they can do for me.
I am on the waiting list for mental health housing. That is, housing where I can live independently, that has a psychiatric nurse or whatever on staff. Waits for such housing are seven years. I am not even in subsidized housing. That is seven years too.
There was even a time when it was thought that I was at high risk for homelessness.
With no family and no lover to comfort me, I am weeping much of the time, now that I've tried everything I know and have been told "no, we don't have anyone for you".
Yes, I love God, but there a few things He can't do for me, which is why He created fellow human beings.
I cannot kiss God, or hold his hand, or hold him close to me. I cannot hear his heart beat in the middle of the night, nor hold his hand when my mental health gets shaky.
The best he can do is a cat. Maybe because people's hearts are so hard. At least, that's the reason Jesus gave as to why Moses allowed a man to give his wife a writing of divorcement.
Also, friends, I didn't addvertise for a mate in the developing world. I advertised for a Toronto man who knows Christ as his savior, and I never got a response.
Ask anyone who's disabled. They'll tell you. Even if you get a ride to church, and go to singles and all the meetings and extracurricular activities, accessing minds is very hard, and accessing hearts even harder.
They don't see you; they see your disability(ies).
I speak from experience, of which I have 48 years worth. I'd like to be treated as if I know what I'm talking about, please.
I'm sad. I'm tired. I'm sapped. The only strength I have left is to not send Eugene any more money. I've never sent anyone money before, as I looked up all the advice about online relationships.
Being inside my apartment, going online is the only way I can interact with the outside world.
God, I need touch. I need hugs and kisses, and people's nearness, and don't know how to get or give it, in my present circumstances.
And my depression is making me focus on the words of Mrs. C., and her ally, rather than on the kinder but still true advice of the rest of you. Not all of you have slapped my hands off.
And I didn't attack anyone on purpose.
Look, I'm feeling so bad, I have to get off here. Tears are streaming down my face, and I'm feeling crummy. All the fur is gone, and I have no way I know of of bringing it back.
Eugene and I are not compatible. His voice is like fur that glistens under your fingertips--smooth, glossy Persian fur. And I need touch so bad. His voice is a textured fur voice, but the most charitable thing I can say is, he must be very foolish to believe every fable and fairy-tale he hears about getting quick visas. I do not want a man like that. I do not want a man who demands quick trust, who wants to throw money (mine) at every problem, naively thinking that will melt the bureaucracy, etc. And I am in no position to feed and clothe someone, should the relationship go south before 3 years. Now that I know what's really involved, I'm pulling out. It will be hard to tell him in some ways, because he'll act like, Gee, I was going to give you the love and happiness you deserved, but you're blowing the whole thing. Only that's not true, and God knows it, and you guys know it. Anyway, I'm feeling crummy, so I have to go now.