Desperate Cry

My inner being is reaching out for help. I am so wrung out I don’t have the words to express the complex bog of emotions. I have been looking for work sense I left my prior job in April 2019 at Versatility. I’ve reached out to others for ideas on how to make an income blogging and haven’t gotten answers. I have taken side gigs, applied to numerous jobs that are quota based as most all jobs are and haven’t kept one of them for more than 90 days due to the social lack of perception and frankly the newer self harm scars that peak through even though I wear long sleeves.

I hate that cutting has become a struggle again for the first time in seven years! I cannot tell you how much I seethe at my own destructive stemming.

I have a dog walking business when people feel so inclined to hire me to walk their dogs. I clean for others when I post resumes on care dot com (have to pay 20 a month just to get a job) I am paid by the job not the hour because there again I am detailed and thorough.

I have been in the appeal process for my SSI coverage sense 2017 and I am wrung dry. After this fourth appeal in a long litany of appeals I give up. I’ve asked for help from non profit pro bono organizations locally and regionally to the tune of ‘I’m sorry we cannot assist you because the likelihood of your appeal being approved is 34 percent’ or some such other excuse. I have called senators written representatives hell even the president and not one email or snail mail answer back to a plea for help.

I am now in school again and am battling for a loan because I had a previous disablement discharge. More red tape and paper work.

I hate that my mom and dad are paying the 400 plus monthly for my car expenses and my prepaid cell phone. I want to work, I want to be a productive citizen, I want to pay taxes, I want some fucking company to hire me and to see the strengths I have to be an assist not liability to them. I am loyal to a fault, I don’t quit ever (which is why I was asked to leave my last job because I was scaring my coworkers with my depression and wounds on my arms.)

I live in an area that is mostly of young military black or other minority population, and I a white 36 year old autistic female who is conservative and a christian find myself persecuted in asking for assistance (for example at my local department of rehab for jobs.)

I was with the local department of rehab for employment for the past seven years and not once was I listened to for you see I am well spoken and so the catch 22 is ‘You can so well explain your issues and struggles so what’s the problem with you?’ Please don’t get me started on the false narrative of ‘white privilege’ because I work my fanny off and fight tooth and nail for what little I have.

I am thankful I have one side gig cleaning once a week. I am thankful I have a home, a welcome sight for sore eyes. I’m thankful that I can sleep, though often it’s because I’m too depressed to stay awake and long to fall asleep forever. I am thankful I have a church that I attend who are accepting and welcoming despite they not knowing what to say these last two years of struggle.

It takes grit and guts to live with autism, to hold down a job, to go to school to attend church to attend Torah Tuesday, to show up at a job and do a good job and be underpaid for it but none the less still go because it’s better than nothing.

I am thankful that I can pay tithe to God, though it’s not the amount I would like. I cannot give to messianic organizations as I once did because I have no money to offer, just prayers.

I want to sing on the worship team on Friday nights but struggle with stage fear not being in front of others singing for ten years. I cannot bring myself to say this to the new music leaders face because I am ashamed. I don’t want the cause of Christ become tarnished because of obvious wounds on my arms and chest.

And I could go on, for now just pray for me.


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