Friday 13 April 2018

Homeless and disabled in Glasgow

Being homeless and disabled is... there isn’t an adequate word... I’m going with interesting because I refuse to spend hours fretting over one word... again.

Right now I am exhausted in every way possible.

I was put in a terrible predicament that triggered my BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) and caused me to flip the switch in my head where I jump a million steps and go straight to ‘what if I can’t get to a shop to get food from a homeless unit I’m put in because it’s not accessible and have a day/week/month where I’m unable to ask for help with that...
so I was told, because I mentioned something (going to panic-causing events in my head caused me to say that I just wanted to stop existing) that caused the police officers to not be allowed to let me stay anywhere on my own.
I’m now in a place where I am crawling and being shouted at for doing so.

To get somewhere to stay I’ve to apply to each and every housing authority, if I’d like to stay in that area, fill in all the long-ass forms, AND EXPLAIN WHY I NEED TO MOVE.

Brilliant.
I’m done.
I cannot possibly do that.

Oh, why were the police involved? I was assaulted. In the flat I stayed in. Alone.

I thought he had come to kill me.
I wish he had.

I’ve not to stay in that flat under police instruction.

This is all too much.

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