Sylvanna Devlin

And a little depressed.

I might have said this elsewhere but I moved in with the essentials I could fit into my tiny car. I basically had nothing

My sister, my mum, and SSI backpay replaced what I had lost. After escaping from my ex in a week, and Petaluma with books, shelves and ornaments stashed in a small storage space. (Imagine a walk in closet for real. That big). All I had left was in that car.

The storage was in California as I moved from motel to motel then stored enough to let me sleep in my car when I officially became homeless.

I slept in my car, I stayed in a shelter, I moved here with what I could fit into my trunk! Then what I could fit in the rest as I rescued my belongings.

Mum started filling in some of the gaps. And then after my suicide attempt in July sent self care things I use to cheer myself up – and look after myself which is secondary.

My sister filled in more, doing what she could to set me up for the winter.

SSI gave another installment of back pay and I burnt through it replacing sports, dance, physical therapy equipment and clothing. Bags for keeping “fussing stuff” in, baskets for organizing those. I was going to have a space for everything.

What’s more SSI is use it or lose it, so I was motivated to do what it’s intended to. Help me replace the lost and add the necessary.

I did buy a few frivolous things. That’s true. But not much of it was for anything more than my health or that of my homes.

I even bought a Vacuum cleaner!

I’ve stopped spending now and am waiting for items to come in – 1 per box usually, not that I set it that way. And it’s a little fun to be on the receiving end of rebooting my life.

But weird

I now have the things I need. But even my belly dance outfit had to be replaced – it went missing several moves ago. I had nothing so what I do have is new.

And I didn’t recognize any of it. My non psychic psychometry doesn’t do a thing because while some is pretty. It’s new. It doesn’t have years of history I remember by picking it up.

I wake up and don’t recognize my life. Writing I worked on my life since 9. (On a computer at 11) I wanted to be a writer and got good. I’m practiced and fast. But have to put everything on hiatus for now.

So I’m looking to learning ASL to get me out of poverty, then a PHD in psychology because America doesn’t need a guru, the culture needs a psychologist!

I will make a difference and write my books and in quite a number of years stick PHD at the end of my name.

Provided I survive being a digital hostage.

“Come back to reality honey”

The fuck? What part of this does she think isn’t real? Some people will say anything just to try to hurt you. Even if it’s ridiculous.

I’m in reality, love. Where are you?

There is the harassment, hen pecking, reactive abuse and mob mentality. The lies the gaslighting, the unwarranted advice and criticism, the constant commentary on my life.

I can get frustrated and tell Tabitha it’s not a good time. While doing what she’s meowing about because kids don’t care. And neither do cats. But oh no, that just has to be commented on and when rebuked “come back to reality”

Fuck you all.

I wake up and don’t recognize my room, I certainly don’t recognize my critics – their “suggestions” and “instructions” and whatever happened to my reputation that makes them think I’m anything but a sweetheart with a dark side.

Push me? I push back.

Welcome to being 17 again I guess. Time for Silver to shine though – my nickname from that era.

Everything is new, my goals and plans are new. It has all been severed from my past. And my neighbor doesn’t shut up with unasked for commentary.

Guess it’s time to listen to Metallica.

Because my college dormitory was quieter than this and my closest neighbor drank so much she ended up in the hospital!

I’m pissed. So music it is while they waste their breath.

Did they derail this whole topic from the truth? From the painful severance from my past? Did they make it now something you can’t relate to because who could relate to a victim of cumulative abuse?

Please think of what does connect. What does resonate. What is new and familiar to you. Because this blog contains mundane frustrations and the weird bullshit that caused it.

The former is a danger to anyone starting over.

The latter is just interesting.

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Added same day.

There is no coping mechanism not screwed up by the hostage takers. Even my music (played at “drown out the evil” level) is fiddled with.

Because they want me furious and in a hospital or dead. It’s much likely to be the latter but my Geiger recovery is inconvenient for them.

Got to discredit her

Got to make her look foolish

Got manipulate and control

Got to use reactive abuse to make her seem like the problem.

Get fucked.

I promised to stay quiet and stay out of it.

But nooooo there’s a new asshole in the neighborhood.