Tuesday, July 26, 2016

The Beginning as the End

Today is the first day in the last 11 months that I have not wanted to kill myself.

The beginning of every new adventure starts at the end of an old one. My last adventure was a struggle, so I'm pretty happy to be rid of it. In 4 months I tried to kill myself 4 times.

First a little history about me.
I was abused by my father for several years of my childhood. When I finally sent him to prison I became a social reject, at least, more so than I was before. A lifetime has passed since then, friends have come and gone. I've been abandoned many times. But I know I will eventually find a new set of friendly faces.

Because of the trauma I experienced I have a severe mental disability called Agoraphobia. Literally it means "fear of the marketplace", but in practice it is a widespread fear of anything outside your comfort zone. I'm afraid of mosquitoes, leeches, certain sections of the freeway, men, confrontation, large crowds, small crowded spaces, touch, loud noises, and so much more.

About a year ago I lost my part time job. Shortly after, my best friends stopped contact with me, telling me not to visit without giving me a reason why. After months of waiting for them to tell me what was happening, I finally decided to approach them. I found out that a certain member of their family had accused me of stealing something. This person had a distaste for me and had been trying to alienate me for quite some time.

I didn't steal from them. But he made them think I did, so I lost them.

The sudden and complete loss of all my friends put me in the hospital for suicide. After this my psychologist convinced me to finally apply for Disability (he's been wanting me to get on the program for years). Two weeks after the hospital, I made my second suicide attempt. It's a good thing I'm so scared of death, or I wouldn't be alive right now.

My third attempt happened 2 months ago, when my partner broke up with me... Another loss in this already fucked up year. And my fourth attempt was last week, the day before I was approved for Disability. It seemed the world was breaking. I was getting numerous calls from bill collectors, panic attacks 3 times a day, and a shroud of loneliness and despair enveloped me.

I'm a shitty suicidal, at least, shitty at the follow-through. But I'm glad. Today I am very glad. Maybe not entirely happy, depression has always lingered with my list of numerous mental disabilities. But I don't want to kill myself. And for me that's progress.


It is a massive comfort to know that I can finally cover my financial obligations. Unfortunately, my benefits are still very low, and they keep me in an extreme state of poverty. To combat this I will be going homeless at the end of October. I've been homeless before, and it will be my 3rd time embarking on this adventure. I love the lifestyle, I love the freedom, and mostly I love how well it mitigates my disability.

When I lived in an apartment, my apartment was my safe space. I can only travel a few blocks from my safe space. But when I lived in my car, my safe space moved with me. It made me free. And this time, I'm going to do much better with a larger vehicle.

SSDI does something called backpay, which is a lump sum of money that they allot you for your time waiting for Disability approval. It will be enough for me to invest in a camper van, and might even be enough for a small plot of land if I can find something. In an ideal world, I would put this money into a savings account to buy a home or a condo later on. However, after 6 months if I have money left over it disqualify me for other benefits, namely Medicaid.

So I'm forced to spend my benefits within the next 6 months. All part of the poverty trap. But I have a plan. A tiny plan. My first goal is a camper van, my next goal is a plot of land, and from there I can invest man hours and free resources into infrastructure that will convert my land into an urban farm with chickens and goats. Ultimately, I'd like to build a tiny house. That's about 5 years down the line.

So I figure it's a good time to document my progress. My goals, my life. Future blog posts won't be this personal, but I felt a history of how I got here might be informative. I don't know what group of friends I'm going to encounter next, but I hope they're vagabonds like me.

All I want is a safe haven to call home. A tiny plot of land, a tiny home, a tiny farm. This is my Tiny Dream. And I'm finally waking up.