I heard Eugene's voice again today, but he was asking for money, and I told him no.
I do appreciate all your encouraging comments, even those of Mrs. Canuck, (sorry, you mentioned your uncle, not your grandfather; the rest of my reply stands), but I cannot hire a caregiver. There are limits on my money, and certainly limits on what the Canadian government will allow for caregiving. I've been denied service from CAC, even during the week I spent on the psychiatric ward.
When I was denied service with paratransit here, I got a Human Rights lawyer. I've been locked in my apartment for almost two years now, because this paratransit's test for qualification is at least as hard and cold as SIC apparently is.
I'm falling through every crack in the system. I can't get out because the service, which I'm not even allowed to name, won't take me.
I am not allowed to go to the media, because I and the only escort I could find, who is as disabled as me but gets to use Paratransit, had to sign a confidentiality thing, saying we wouldn't discuss what happened at the mediation.
Meanwhile, I wait. I wait for the day when I can book a ride like anyone else and go somewhere.
If you have an escort, you are under their power. If they don't want to accompany you, you don't go. I've had plenty of those experiences, not to mention the odd volunteer I could find deciding for whatever reason, they had the right to tell me what to think and feel, and how to live.
One such ignoramus brought me to tears with her sharp, and uncalled-for judgements.
As to Eugene, I've told him no, I won't be sending him any more money. I've said no to many scam artists, but this one apparently tripped me up. He has a voice like fur. Listening to him is like petting glistening fur. My heart sang his name. I dreamed of sharing his name. He wooed me good.
I got tripped up, I guess.
Now, I'm hurting, and I'd appreciate it if anyone wouldn't add to it.
In my ad, I advertised for Toronto men, but no one from there responded.
I appreciate those of you who aren't in my situation disability-wise, isolation-wise, and lack of friends or family-wise, not trying to buck me up with misinformation or cliches.
Thanks, Abranna, for saying you are proud of me for not sending Eugene any more money.
I don't know how much more I'll be writing here. I'm feeling miserable, and haven't much in the way of comforting it. I can't walk it off bc of the pain conditions.
I was high on endorphins, love's chemicals, for a few weeks. I didn't mean to fall for Eugene. I just did. Now, the dream is over, and I feel like &^%#@!!!
I didn't mean for my heart to just start singing his name. It just flowed naturally from me. Loving him allowed me to stop mourning my dead ex, and the loss of the marriage, as well as the fact that a real snake of a man got everything my ex owned, to look after my teenagers, and to make life as difficult for me as possible.
OK so I'm feeling like crap, and I guess there isn't anything anyone can do.
Eugene asked me to get all the Braille books I could on Africa. The Library is one thing the CNIB is capable of doing.
Oh yes, I've asked for a volunteer from there, and no dice.
So I'd like it folks assumed I'd done everything within my powers, rather than assuming I'm just sitting around feeling sorry for myself.
I mean, if you're going to make assumptions, why not assume I've done everything for myself I can think of--including calling my MPP, except that it didn't do any good?
This paratransit mess up has been going on for nearly two years, and I'll be lucky if I can get my freedom, to travel like an adult, much less money for pain, suffering, and loss of dignity.
Anyway, I need two or three quarts of dark chocolate ice cream. I need a drink. I need love, and don't know how to reach out for it, without getting my hands slapped off.
I'm going to keep telling Eugene no money. He'll probably just stop calling altogether, I guess. Unless he surprises me, and decides he wants me more than the money. I don't know.
Anyway, thanks for any help; I'll see you guys around, I guess.
