So. Here’s my plea. I was hoping I would never have to do this. But I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been applying to jobs like crazy, and I am finally earning some small amounts of cash online working through freelance methods, but it’s not enough and I can’t survive on it yet. I am physically unable to do most labor, I stand to lose my ability to walk if I’m not careful according to the only Orthopedic doctor who’s believed me and run tests. I have a job, but it’s seasonal and unsteady.
I tried to go to college, I made it through a semester and a half, and I want to go back eventually if the freelance work I’m doing still can’t pay the bills, but the situation at hand not only made it nigh impossible, but a particular professor continuously contributed negatively to my mental health (Which has already been confirmed by multiple doctors and therapists to be disability-level, even though I am desperate to work.
Even on multiple, strong medications, in a wonderful work environment that I am blessed to have at the current job I have, simply functioning is in no uncertain terms, a miracle.) which in conjunction with my current situation and levels of stress, landed me in the hospital for a week and a half back in February. I am sick of this, to be quite honest. So, backstory.
I grew up in a confusing home. I never knew we were poor until I hit my teenage years and it truly hit home. My mom and dad worked almost paycheck to paycheck, never making enough to save, but we never felt it until my father lost the job he had had for 10 years one day after his original boss passed away and was replaced by a corporate manager because he refused to lie to a customer about a sale involving the customer. Even through this though, my Dad got a job relatively quickly and as children, we were never aware of the problem for long. Until I turned 14.
I had always known something was… wrong at home. Aside from the belt whippings that were merciless, which I was constantly assured were “normal” and “deserved” and “punishment”, the constant threats of beatings, the repeated threats to be given away to strangers or dropped off at “orphanages” or homeless shelters, the near-endless screaming and fighting, or the constant reminders from my father that we were, as girls specifically, expected to be quiet unless spoken to and were not to disobey any “orders” ever. Even if it interfered with our school work.
However, I never knew I was right until one day, during a birthday celebration for someone, I said something as a joke. I don’t even remember the joke. I just remember that it was something we repeated a lot, to begin with, yet My father got angry with this iteration, and took me, in front of family and friends, immediately to my parents’ bedroom and whipped me with a belt. Yes, it left marks. I vaguely remember being ordered not to have pants or underwear for the interaction, but I cannot remember the incident itself, I have blocked out a lot of the incident. Reminder I was 14. I was then forced to rejoin the “party” while visibly shaking and crying.
The family that was in attendance, save my mother and sisters, found nothing wrong with this or at the very least, never spoke up. The friends in attendance however, took notice. They asked me what happened, and they asked if it happened a lot. They asked if I was okay, to which I assured them I was, and then one asked if I wanted to call the police or child protective services. That was the first I realized that none of this was actually normal. It’s commonplace in some areas and socioeconomic classes, but it is not normal. I say normal. I mean appropriate.
This was not the beginning or end of this behavior out of either parent, however. I’ve been smacked, hit, punched, screamed at (both from afar and inches from my face), told I was useless, worthless, lazy, stupid, etc. all my life (I won’t say I was never called positive things, this is not true. However this kind of thing, especially when it switches consistently and often is a hallmark of mental and emotional abuse.)
In the years since reaching legal adulthood, the threats of these abuses have not subsided, especially from specific family members, they’ve just become infrequent. This is because when I turned 18, I started threatening legal and police action. That’s when it finally stopped being a daily occurrence, and when they finally stopped putting their hands on me.
I have had multiple jobs of different kinds in my adulthood. I’ve worked fast food, retail, grocery, factory, and office jobs. Some were better than others. But I know how to work, and I am diligent when I do so. I earn my keep when I can. Unfortunately, even at 25, my body is breaking, and quickly. Likely due to injuries I sustained as a teenager, my lower body often has insane amounts of nerve pain as well as pain in general, my legs fall out from under me if I stand for too long, and I cannot lift over 35 pounds without severe pain (technically I’ve been told not to lift over 15 pounds, and even that is supposed to be infrequent and only when necessary.) Walking hurts. Walking used to be the main method through which I traveled. I can no longer walk for more than 10 minutes without severe pain. Working one of my favorite jobs, in fact, had me in the emergency room 3 times in a six month period for steroid and muscle relaxer injections just to be able to walk. I refuse opioid pain medications. Addictive behavior runs in my family. My father is an alcoholic, as was my mother’s mother, and my mother’s brother was disabled yet also addicted to his pain medication (even though he needed it desperately, he abused it often.)
Through all of this, I have been in therapy for 5 years with the same wonderful and amazingly supportive and helpful therapist. I have been on medication that has helped, I have a job that I love and work when I can, I have made strides with my mental health, even according to my therapist and psychiatrist. (I never would have been able to apply to college, let alone survive a semester and a half. I got good grades even then. I was so happy and proud.) I had a 3-year relationship, and even though it has ended, we are still trying to be good friends to one another.
Unfortunately, I live with my father, and this has put many obstacles in my path, especially recently. My doctors in the hospital, my therapist, and my psychiatrist all believe and keep insisting that I should apply for disability, even with my improvements, before trying to go back to school, if I can. Earlier this year I tried to begin the process, I talked to my father about this and he promised he would support me until I could get it. Since then he has lost his job and refuses to apply for any work, even while I apply to everything I can. His reasons for this are 1) He hates the way corporate businesses work, and hates working for them. I provided him information on local shops looking for workers. He has not explored them. 2) My “failings as a woman.” 3) He is absolutely sure that when we become homeless, he will be able to find an Amish family in the countryside to take him in and let him work on their farm for room and board. Yes, this is verbatim.
All of this is compounded by my inability to drive legally. (I know how to drive, however, I am usually nervous and along with needing someone who can accompany while I practice both by law and to help me get used to driving, I needed at least 24 hours of driving experience spaced out over multiple days before I could get my own license, my father promised to help me with this. I never was able to receive my license before my father’s license was suspended for a DUI and operating a vehicle without insurance in the state of Ohio. He needs to pay almost $4000 before they will re-issue it.)
I have contacted a Pastor whom I think may be able to help and who I feel my father will listen to, even though It’s not what I believe because it’s what my father believes in. However nothing is a magic cure for any of this, and I am well aware.
TL;DR: My father is abusive and is struggling to cope with reality. I have nowhere else to go, and my disability application is being processed, and even if I am approved it could take anywhere from 3-5 years to get approval. I have multiple 5-year plans for true independence depending on which efforts I am making end up paying off. I cannot, however, do this alone with my current circumstances, and we are now facing homelessness for the 5th time in my life, this time with nowhere to go, and my father refuses to put in even a single job application.
Ideally, I would ask for a massive amount of money to help support myself for a year in our current apartment with the current bills necessary for me to keep working online. My rent is $695 a month (water and trash included). Electric bill ranges from ~$80 in the summer to ~$200 in the winter. My internet (not great but it works) is $25 a month. I can eat alone on ~$400 a month, less when I make things from scratch (which I do whenever I can.) this is roughly $1320 a month or $15,840 a year. I would in an Ideal world, ask for a job that guaranteed $20,000 salary a year. If however, I could raise all of this for at least 2 years worth of funds ($40,000) I could have a good, trustworthy friend manage my money and expenses while I could push through and see to my application for disability (I have found some reputable lawyers in my area who would accept payment out of back-benefits who have a high success rate and short turn-over time.) Afterward, I would either re-enroll in school or survive long enough to see my freelancing truly pay off so that I would hopefully no longer need disability or other financial assistance. I will not ask for this, however. All I ask is that, if you can, you give what you can to my PayPal: paypal.me/princesslizzie94
I will remove this post as soon as I can ensure that I have a steady and secure source of income.
Many Blessings to you and yours, simply for taking the time to read this, thank you. Please. If nothing else, take this as an opportunity to learn how to love and persevere. Don’t hit your kids, and don’t make them feel worthless. Help them become functioning adults while you can and while they’re able. Please. And please. If you need help. Always ask. And always apply for social assistance when you need it if you can. Please. (The only reason we haven’t is that my father’s income must be counted on applications, and he refuses to provide any documentation, including his SSN. I know he has all of it, I’ve filed his taxes for him before. He simply refuses to provide it, and I fear if I tried to find it or somehow successfully used it, not only would it be potential grounds for fraud, but this man makes me legitimately fear for my own life, often, just for asking him to take out the trash.)
If you do end up giving: Thank you. For everything. You are part of the light at the end of the tunnel, and I appreciate your kindness, I could never thank you enough.