Hoisted by someone else's petard

I've been away from my writing for weeks now.

The matter of survival has kept me much occupied. True, I distract myself as I can with trifles, but the thought of, "I'm going to be homeless in about a month" is never far from my mind.

I was tweeting with the very dear Dirk Johnson this morning about the situation. My feeling of being on the razor's edge of a panic attack every minute of every day. The sense of being trapped in circumstances not of my own making. My inability to employ my PTSD-inspired hyper-vigilance to keep myself safe. The return of the chronic nightmares that have haunted me since I was two and the sexual and physical abuse first began. And the psychological torture. Can't forget that part. It's funny--and not in a ha-ha sense--that six months sans nightmares spoiled me.

I'm hoist by Brian Carey's petard. Documents have been coming in the mail. Looks like he's in serious, criminal trouble with the Federal Government. He's also behind on his taxes here in Island County. The tax assessor has contacted me trying to track him down.

Now, as a tax-paying, law-abiding woman who has never even had a parking ticket, I'm not moved to pity my landlord. In fact, I've been praying very, very hard not to hate him. I've spent my life walking on eggshells, developing a chess master's sense of how to plan ahead a dozen, two dozen moves. So, when people like Brian, and my ex, the Toad of Darkness a.k.a Leon Guidry, blow their own worlds apart with their lack of foresight and openly shady dealings and take me along for the jaunt through hell. . .well, let's say I'm not amused by it.

This is a repeated pattern in my life. I've literally lived like an alley cat to survive other people's problems--OPP as Iyanla Vanzant terms it.

The problem this time, however, is that the variables are completely stacked against me and the very real possibility of being checkmated looms like the headsman's axe. Literally the sword of Damocles.

The facts:

• I cannot work.
• I am 100% disabled and require home health professionals to assist me.
• I get $1013 per month.
• I have $368 in bills that must be paid.
• I receive $114 in food stamps per month
• That leaves $645 per month from which I must:
• Pay rent.
• Buy everything food stamps do not cover.

I have discovered, to my horror, the average rent here starts at $850. Some ROOMS rent for $400-$500 per month. Most studio and 1-bedroom places are out of my price-range. Low income housing has waiting lists of 6 months to 1-year or more. I am limited to 1-bedroom and handicap-access units because of my disability. The waiting list on these is 1-3 years. 99% of low-income housing does not have washer/dryer connections and I cannot afford the added expense of a laundromat.

I have pared down my belongings since the divorce since I went from a 1700sf base house to a 900sf, very poorly laid out condo. I've sold everything I possibly could last year to help raise money to pay my ever-increasing copay for my Medicaid home care (it is currently $150 per month). My belongings are still wall-to-wall in this tiny condo. My bedroom furniture being the largest dent in this collection of belongings. I cannot do without a bed or drawers in which to put my clothes. I do not have money to buy other furniture to replace it.

All these rotten sugar plums are what dance in my brain every waking hour and haunt my Alpha-wave-sleep-disorder/chronic-nightmare-filled sleep.

I honestly want to run screaming, but for the fact that walking even with my cane is a chore.

Same other-people's-BS, different day.

The ex blew our lives apart with his sexual addiction. My employer stripped me of my insurance and fired me while I was out on medical leave, then I couldn't find a lawyer nor get assistance from the State to defend myself against this illegal act.

And now my landlord has ruined his own life and destroyed mine in the process.

What the hell? Seriously! What the hell!

I'm hanging on by a thread here and trying to keep my sanity. A Herculean task, rest assured.

I pray. Ceaselessly. I try to believe the cavalry will come to the rescue. It just doesn't seem possible at this point.