My body is constantly in pain. I am constantly in fear of being harassed, attacked, or robbed. Because of the extreme pain, everything in my life is rapidly declining. If this is the end, then I am sorry for all of the people who wasted their money and effort on me.
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I am stuck in the pit of poverty. My health problems prevent me from working, and without money, I cannot afford medicine or treatment for my health problems. I’m homeless, and I have been robbed eight times in the last year, including once by a police officer. I don’t have a kitchen, so food is more expensive. I’ve been attacked three times in the last year, including one time when I was robbed. While sleeping outside, a man sexually molested me. When I try to sleep, I am often harassed by strangers, property owners, and police. Poverty is a trap: life is more expensive and more dangerous. If I temporarily solve one problem, then the other problems push me back into the poverty pit: expensive food, untreated medical problems, theft, harassment, the police might harass me but never help me, violence and the constant risk of violence, and constant fear. My father, brother, and mother do not help me because they believe that I will escape the poverty trap if my suffering is severe enough that I “want” to escape the poverty trap.
1. For many years, I have rationed my money.
2. Medicine is expensive, so I try to skip doses when possible. For at least two years, if I did not ration, then there would have been many times when I did not have any medicine. Rationing reduces the benefits of the medicine. My choice has been between reduced benefits or periods of no medicine.
3. Food is my second largest expense. I ration food. This is bad because it can amplify my symptoms and lead to hours or days of complete inactivity. If I don’t ration food, then I cannot afford medicine. So, if I eat properly, I will not have medicine and my symptoms will be out of control.
4. After years of rationing and multiple health problems, I don’t have enough physical strength to continue rationing at the same rate.
5. Without massive change, I will die.
1. The last piece of a tooth broke off today.
2. I bought modafinil. Thank you for the help.
3. I was VERY wrong about camping behind Starbucks. When I looked during the day, there was tons of space. When I went back on Friday night, all of the space was filled with cars because there is a nightclub in the shopping center.
4. No luck finding another place. Walmart is harassing me to move.
5. Symptoms are terrible. I have been incapable of packing and leaving.
6. A woman touched my arm, politely, gently, non-sexually, and it instantly reduced my symptoms better than any of my medicines. I am frustrated and disappointed that one of the best remedies for my problems is a Catch-22: a healthy relationship would help reduce my symptoms but it’s nearly impossible to get into a healthy relationship until I reduce my symptoms.
7. A few months ago, I met a woman here and there seemed to be mutual interest. A couple of months ago, she said I lied to her about something. (I think I wrote a post about it.) I still have no idea what I said or did. I am still confused and hurt. With all people, I try to be kind and respectful. With her, I put in extra effort. Somehow, I said or did something wrong. I have no clue what it is, so I don’t know what to change about my behavior. This is a serious issue in my world: if I cannot predict how my actions will affect other people, then I will continue to have problems. If I am hurting people even when I am putting maximum effort into not hurting them, how can I have friends? If you choose to respond to this issue, do not write anything that resembles, “Don’t worry about what other people think of you.” My life was destroyed because of what other people think of me. I am alive only because a few other people thought nice things about me and helped me. In my world, what other people think of me is a life-or-death issue.
8. I somehow misplaced three things. a) My cut-resistant gloves; b) my “safari” shirt; c) four or five pages of notes. This is distressing to me because before my problems, I was very well organized and I almost never lost anything. I am frustrated and saddened by how many parts of my life these symptoms are able to affect. I spent a lifetime trying to develop healthy and efficient habits and routines. If I could rely on those things, then it would help me recover, but my symptoms erode those things, too.
To clarify some misperceptions (this is an incomplete list):
1. The following emotions are distinct and not interchangeable
-a. Desire to be dead
-b. Willing to kill yourself
-c. Desire to kill yourself
-d. Desire to self-harm
2. For the last two months, I have spent increasingly more time thinking about whether I am willing to kill myself.
3. The brain does not have nerve endings, so it does not feel pain. Psychological pain is physical pain, just as a broken arm is physical pain.
4. Today, for reasons unknown, I experienced 90 minutes without any pain. I cannot recall the last time that happened.
5. I did not experience any of the following pains:
-a. Pain from severe depression
-b. Pain from generalized anxiety disorder
-c. Pain from complex post-traumatic stress disorder
-d. Pain from panic disorder
-e. Dental pain
-f. Lower-back pain
-g. Shooting pain in my left shoulder
-h. Pain or discomfort from hunger
-i. Stomach pain, such as acid reflux
-j. Bowel pain
-k. Difficulty breathing
-m. Or any other pain or discomfort
6. The brief absence of pain reminded me that living with constant, extreme pain is not normal.
Using Google Maps and satellite view, I located 11 potential places to pitch my tent. I went to the first one last night. It seemed good and I made camp before it rained. Then people showed up. It was private property, and at night, they use dogs for security. Leaving was better than dealing with seven guard dogs.
I was near the Walmart/Applebees parking lot I slept in for a long time. I went there. It had stopped raining. I didn’t think it would rain, so I didn’t set up my tent. It started to sprinkle. I thought it would pass. I was wrong. It was a monsoon. I stayed mostly dry until it died down, then setup the tent. Then a lot more rain.
I scouted some of the other places today. One looks promising. Two would be great but the properties have very high fences–they are unused, unkempt, and huge. Lots of privacy and quiet. No idea how to access them without blatantly trespassing, which is not easy with a huge backpack. Plus, the unofficial neighborhood watch is hyper-vigilant. Going there without permission is asking for trouble.
One place would be great except I need permission from the management of a new shopping center to camp far behind the center. It will never happen.
The last place I looked at is strange. I will use it in an emergency, but I don’t think it is safe because there is a lot of foot traffic and I think it would be stressful because there are some annoying dogs.
So, there is one place: behind a shopping center with a Starbucks. Close to Walmart, and across the street from a grocery store. It is much quieter than the Walmart parking lot. There should be almost no foot traffic or car traffic. Heat from the sun is the only thing I am worried about.
I have one day of modafinil left. At Walmart, a box of 28 days costs 1271 pesos. I’m too depressed to calculate exactly how much cash I have right now, but I don’t have 1300 pesos. And, I will soon run out of vitamin B complex, ibuprofen, and valium.
I have discovered a meat product here that they call “pate.” It is similar in taste and texture, but it is made from pork. The price per calorie is fantastic, so it will be a big part of my diet.
Despite how shitty everything is, my creativity is off the chart. It’s as if all of my education in psychology, business, computers, law, and economics has fused with my life experiences and ideas are pouring out of me. I’ve started outlining and organizing my ideas. If I am able to get some traction in my life, these ideas will… If I accurately described the likely results of implementing these ideas, you would not believe me.
As for the stuff everyone in the US got for me, it is ready to be shipped to me: I need to give my friend a shipping address, which I will do when I find a place I think I can camp at for a couple of weeks.
It may seem like I have a plan, or part of a plan, but I do not. I give myself a task, such as “Tell him my mailing address,” because of habit and because the alternative is to lay down and die. The collection of tasks do not equal a plan, though. Plus, I rarely accomplish the tasks and it takes a long time to accomplish the ones I do.
After so many years, I feel like Chicken Little or The Boy Who Cried, “Wolf.” Nevertheless, this period is probably the height of my despair. Being locked in jail because I asked for help in the UK was a million times more painful and is still the worst experience of my life. But, this period is at least as dangerous as when I was in the UK detention center.
I forgot to mention that some guy from Walmart told me I couldn’t camp here, so I have to leave.
I talked to two different pairs of cops today. Both conversations went well. If I can find a camping spot close to here, then I think that some of the cops will keep an eye on my safety. Certainly if I could stay in the Walmart parking lot, they would pay extra attention to me and my stuff.
My dad, Dan Hogan, has not helped me since I became homeless five years ago. He has interfered with my life multiple times, however, making things much more difficult for me. Because of him, I cannot speak frankly in public because he might try to cause more problems in my life. I have cut him out of my life as much as possible, but it is impossible to block him from reading my website.
Abuse, Anxiety, Dan Hogan, Death and dying, Depression, Google, Hopelessness, Modafinil, Panic disorder, Poverty, Privacy, Robbed, Therapy of the wilderness, Vitamin B complex