I have always been left behind in the pack of friends I had from the building. I have dyslexia, dyscalculia, and adhd. I had a piss poor academic record but outstanding attendance for the 4 schools I had gone to. My mother was trying to get me into a special education school, even resorting to looking into boarding school upstate.
I went to St. Josephs, Alexander Robinson, and Holy name, before settling into the lower school of the Summit school in queens on union turnpike. When I went to Summit, my education was paid for by the board of education. The classes where smaller with only 12 in a class and two teachers. By the time I was enrolled in the upper school which was the high school in Jamaica estates, I so badly wanted to get off the School bus and start taking public transportation.
I had come from wearing a uniform 5 days a week, to wearing sweat pants to school or the one pair of jeans my mother did buy me. I had Laura Ashley clothes, which consisted of jumpsuits and frilly pants. I wasnt in fashion. All the kids at Summit where wearing jeans and graphic t shirts. I so eagerly wanted to fit in. I had red sneakers and hiking boots from when I went to sleep away camp I the summer for two weeks. I hated sleep away camp and would get home sick. I never fit in with the kids where ever I was.
I was always sexually driven, stealing a glimpse at my step fathers porn magazines that he had stashed on the side of his bed he shared with my mother. So when I got home from school, I would flip through the pages and then put them back in their rightful place to make sure that they didnt look disturbed.
I still had a baby sitter at the age 12, that by 13 after much begging and pleading with my mother, I got a set of house keys and became a latch key kid. I was 13 years old, but I couldnt get my mother to let me travel to queens by myself. So On the school bus I sat, and made friends with Chris, Benny, and Zuehai who was in the upper school.
When I was alone I would hear a voice calling my name. I always felt like I was being watched. I didnt know where it was coming from, but I always felt the sensation that I was never alone when I was home alone. I know now that was the beginning of my manifestation towards schitophrenia. It takes a long time to build.
By the time I was in the upper school, I had made my first boyfriend. For high school my parents had taken me shopping at the Gap and old navy, and I was able to get some clothes that where in style with what the other kids where wearing. I was given lunch money every day because there was no cafeteria, we had a lunch truck park out side the front of the school at noon. Sometimes the group specialist Eva who was a psychologist would drive a couple of kids to union turnpike so they could pick up lunch at the Chinese restaurant and bring it back to eat at their desk.
By 9th grade I had scored a boyfriend who later became my sons father. I lost my virginity on my mother couch a couple of days shy my 15th birthday. My father would take me and my boyfriend out to eat, and gave us money to go to the movies. Kioko always came over on the weekends. He was 16 going on 17, and had no after school job. We would spend time going to Loews theater, or go out to eat at his favorite Mexican restaurant that my step father had taken us to, that my father was giving me $50 every Saturday to entertain my boyfriend.
Then Kioko started coming to my house after school. He was on PT, ( public transportation) and would take the f train to 47-50th and transfer to the B train. With his CD player in hand he would Come over and spend time with me. I had a CD player with a radio in it, and in the mornings I would listen to hot 97 on the school bus.
My parents didnt come home until 6pm from their vey lucritive careers, to cook dinner and have family discussion to the dinner table. It was my job to make the table up for dinner with 3 placemats and all the finishings. Most of the time my father was the one to cook dinner.
After dinner my step father would check my homework to see if it was completed, and tested me on my spelling words, he was being a resonisble parent. My mother would be washing the dishes or sorting laundry and cleaning up, and I pretty much had a normal existence living with my parents.
My grandmother had bought me a pair of baggy jeans like the girls where wearing in school. And I was starting to feel most comfortable with myself. I had been in the school for a year and half at that point. So when I spent the night at my grandmothers, she took me shopping at green acres mall, and we went out for mcdonlads afterwords.
I didnt find out I was pregnant until I was almost 6 months pregnant. And slowly when I was alone I would hear talking, and I didnt know where it was coming from. It was always when I was alone. Though my morning sickness, I would where the same jeans everyday or a pair of overalls. My parents gave me an allowance of $50 dollars a week, and lunch money, and I would hang out with Kioko after school. I got my homework done while I was waiting for him to get off the train.
I didnt know I was having morning sickness though, that my mother took me to the doctors and they said I had the flu. I stayed home for a coupe of days, and my step father nursed me back to good condition for me to get back on the bus.
The school then had sent home paper work about transferring to public transportation. I had it all worked out, I would meet with Zuehai in the morning, and we would take the B train together to 47-50th street, and then transfer to the F train to 179th street. My mother finally let me do it, and I was given a student metro card.
But I was behind with my friends from the building when it came to having a beeper. My mother wouldnt let me have a beeper. Day sold me her beeper that was connected already and for $27 dollars month I had a beeper number. She had transferred to carrying a cell phone.
I so badly wanted a cell phone, that Kioko had sold me a disconnected omni point phone he had stolen from his brother. But I couldnt get it connected because I didnt have the money. I had stolen $40 dollars from my mothers wallet to give Kioko $90 for the phone. I couldnt keep up with the beeper bill so it got shut off.
All the while I was starting to hear voices in my head, a voice telling me to take money from my parents and go shopping, which is what I tried to do. I was trying to keep up with my childhood friends, who’s parents where rich, and spoiled their kids with the latest whatever. My parents didnt spoil me. They gave me what they felt I needed. It was never enough for me though. So all the while I was stealing money and seeing my boyfriend I was financing our time together, thats the only way I could get Kioko to come over after a while. That and sex in thee staircase of the building. I dont know when I had gotten pregnant. I didnt notice that my period was late, and I had grown scared of the dark, which I know now was part of the hallucinations. Only some times I was afraid of the dark, I have resorted to sleeping with the light on in my bedroom.
I wasnt showering, I would just roll out of bed in the morning, wash my face, sometimes forgetting to brush my teeth, and I would meet Zuehair to get on the train. I had become disgusting. I dont know if my parents even noticed if anything was wrong with me. I had become EMO, a sullen high school student. I was averaging a B-C grand point average, but my life was about taking pictures with my friends in school, and chasing after Kioko. I had stated smoking ciggarettes which I so badly hated in the past. My mother smoked Marlboro Reds, and her and my father would get into arguments about her smoking, he was an asthmatic, and could take the cigarette smoke, so my mother would smoke on the terrace.
One day when I was 14, I had taken a cigarette from her and smoked it in the backyard, I was the first of my childhood friends to start smoking. I was the first of my friends to be experimenting with sex. My first experiment with sex was in sleep away camp, a boy had liked me so he snuck into my cabin while my bunk mate slept. He crawled in through the window, and got on the top bunkbed. The counselors where outside monitoring the camp grounds, and things got hot and heavy between me and the boy. But he didnt penetrate me hard enough to break my hymen. I hadn’t even worried about what if I got pregnant. I was 14. Then I started high school and got into a relationship with Kioko who lived in Brooklyn at the time.
I always had something wrong with me, and didnt tell anyone about it. I wasnt seeing a therapist only in school, because it was special education you had to see a therapist to make sure you where adjusting to the mica school. There where kids there with mental health issues, and Tourette syndrome. It was co populated some kids where on an IEP which meant they where given credit for attending high school, but they were not college bound. They had mediocre jobs working in retail and where on SSI. They ended up moving out on their own into group homes.
I hadn’t told anyone that I was hearing voices, that after the whole fiasco of having a baby died down, I had sunken into a deep depression. I was going through post partum. I was responsible for another living being, I was 16 years old, and the first of any of my friends to have a baby.
The voices had stopped, but I know now I was developing bipolar disorder. It took 13 years for the symptoms to manifest. Through my depression I wasnt showering all the time, or brushing my teeth. I was just rolling out of bed and started my day. I always made sure my pony tail was slicked back, but I was barely washing my hair. I was stealing little bits of money so I could keep up with the nail trend until they fell off, and making sure I had money to get on the train to go with Day to the village, that after I had my son I got my eye brow peirced, and my belly button. I shouldn’t have gotten my belly button pierced I was fat. I wasnt wearing belly shirts or showing off my figure. I just wante to say that I got it done. But I couldnt keep up with my friends, when the cost of living had went up with me having a baby, that by the time I was 18 years old and granduating high school, I had settled on going to Laguardia college in Long Island city. They had a special education program and I was able to use the special Ed computer lab and have a mentor.
I flunked out of Laguardia community college. I couldnt keep up with being a single mother, or the curfew that my mother had in place for me. I had to be home by 4pm the relieve the baby sitter from her job of caring for my son.
Being a single mother was difficult. I could no longer keep up with my friends who had jobs, and where spending money on shopping and paying a cell phone bill, that I had gotten a job at Barnes and Noble on the weekend. My mother didnt want to baby sit, but she had no choice, I was trying to support myself and my son with $100 a week. I couldnt work during the week because I was in school, and had a curfew. My mother was paying the babysitter $300 a week to care for my son while I tried to get myself together.
I had cut off all of my hair at dramatics. I was sporting a pixie hair cut, I now know and really its common sense that long hair is easier to maintain because in a pinch you could throw your hair in a pony tail. But I was creating a paper trail for myself. I creating ways to become in debt with something. I cut my hair, I had to pay to maintain the shape. I was relaxing my hair myself, because I didnt have the $80 dollars to go to a professional for a touch up and a wash and set.
I didnt know how my friends where maintaining themselves when we where younger. They always had, the latest timberland and Nike sneakers, that I was always borrowing from Ging closet sneakers, and shirts. Even though she was smaller then me, we wore the same size shoe. I would take the clothes I borrowed from her and try them on in my room, and then give them back, then get depressed that I was over weight, and become obsessed with trying to loose weight. I got fixated on diet pills. I thought diet pills where the answer to my robust size.
Then I found out I was pregnant for a second time, with a guy named Jason I met on yahoos dating website, that I used my mothers American Express card to pay for the abortion. When she got the bill I said I helped Jessica, Gings high school friend, pay for an abortion. I was the first of my friends to already have a baby and get an abortion.
I had a pixie hair cut that I insisted on getting done at Dramatics salon on 94th and broadway. Every body knows long hair is easier, I was already creating a debt paper trail for myself. I had $100 dollars a week from my pay check, and I would spend it on old navy and my cell phone bill which eventually got suspended because I had left my job at Barnes and Noble and started working for Godiva chocolates. I had to now start paying for transportation. I was walking to work when I was working at the book store, and my mother was spending her weekends caring for my son.
Day wasnt even 21 years old when she stated working for a Fortune 500 company, that by the time she was 25, she had moved out of her fathers 3 bedroom apartment and moved into her own one bedroom apartment in Queens. She had bought herself a car and was on her way to finishing college.
I was just trying to find my place, and was acquiring small debts left and right, when I financed a Dell desk top from Pc mall, which my mother bought a desk for. I had the computer in the living room, and we connected to DSL. I was trying to keep up with Day who had a Mac desk top her mother had bought for her. But she was well on her way to finishing her degree and I was going to court to fight for child support, and visitation privileges for Kioko to see his son. My life wasnt like my friends.
I was a hibutial smoker of weed, and would use the little bit of money I had on a dime bag and the cost of cigarettes where still only $3.25 a pack, I would spend some weekends with Day and we would eat home cooked Thai food in her kitchen, smoke cigarettes, and listen to music.
Technology was progressing and I had a debt with Pc mall for my desk top computer. I tried to send them money orders for the bill, which meant resorting to stealing money from my mother. My step father had moved out, and it was only myself, my mother, and my son in the apartment.
I had started working for Godiva chocolates and had to start paying for transportation to get to and and from work, Elaine had started working at GNC and would pay for me to get my nails done every two weeks, she bought me my first pair of Timberland boots, and had taken me shopping Ashley Stewarts for tops on sale.
Alot of my money came fro my parents to socialize, or to pay off a noticiable debt that I had caused for myself. That 13 years had flown by. I was still trying my hand on getting a job, I had increasing student loans on deferment, and I was feeding my son on government assistance to notice that something was wrong with me.
I spent alot of my time on the computer revising my resume from the high school job program that I was put in, and revising my resume. I had added jobs, and worked it out with my friends that should I get an interview I would use them as references. I was making profiles with monster.com and other job fair websites, and filling out applications on line with old navy and the movie theaters. But I think who ever reviews the applications could spot a fake when they saw it. I never called for interviews in a steady capacity. I got called her and there for small time jobs, that I tried my bed to have interview clothes, and work out a deal with my mother so if and when I started working I could finance a wardrobe for work.
I was spending my days, writing poetry and trying to turn them into lyrics on the computer, and researching how to make it as a song writer in the music industry. My space, and black planet where big social media websites to be on, and I would follow record executives and social lites and post my poetry on myspace. I called myself networking.
I was applying for jobs and writing cover letters, and getting into online faxing. By then we have wifi so I connected my desk top to wifi. But my desk top needed maintenance I had a virus on the computer. I was experiencing delusions of grander which was manifesting bipolar disorder.
My son was 13 and my daughter was 3 when I was first hospitized, and diagnosed Bipolar. My friends where all working and maintaining themselves, I couldnt get one foot in the door at a job or start my career as a medical assistant. My temporary license as a cosemtologist had lapsed, and I felt like I had no control over anything.
Everyone has problems, but to know that I had mental health issues didnt help my self esteem. By the time I started getting paid from ssi, I still tried to get a job, working for the town shoppe and I quickly got fired from the town shops, working as an office assistant. I tried to maintain with two children, and no money, that when my daughter turned 5 and started school, my mother is the one who got the school supplied for both my son and my daughter. But I never had money for incidentals like what if something happened. I had grown accustom to spending time in the welfare office of chasing child support, that I couldnt hold a job. I had to see a therapist and pyschologist which took up time from a schedule that was put together by a perspective job. I couldnt just work Monday- Friday, or have a weekend job which was not easy to come by.
That by the time I started working for the Dry bar I was gun hoe. I was determined to make an income and get off ssi, because SSA took $67 dollars per every $100 dollars I made. I had to report my income twice a month. But I was that bad at keeping the job as a stylist that I didnt have any income to report. They just didnt pay me. I had stopped going to outpatient care, so I was just receiving SSI.
Then the voices started and then a Diddy fan page had requested to follow my instagram, and that started my evolution. I had become psychotic, and the rest is history. My credit debit and my student loans where a thing of the past. I had gotten evicted from my mothers apartment, and she is now guardian to my two children. Because of my mental health issues, I can no longer be a parent, and acs expunged my parental rights.
By the time I was found and hospitalize living on the street, I was diagnosed Schizoaffective. I would have to see a psychiatrist for the rest of my life. I have to learn how to build myself up again. I suffer with depression now and I was put on Zoloft. I have a restraining order out on me, because my son and I got into a domestic altercation.
I cant say Im in a better place. I miss my family but I cant be around them. I have no way of supporting my children, and with my son being of age, he doesnt have to respond to going to welfare to prove his income, it doesnt matter that there was a minor child on the case.
I have outstanding debt, a restraining order, and dont no contact order. I lay in bed at night and wonder how am I going to survive. Its not eve that I got SSI back which comes with a set of rules, But how am I going to survive. Im not eligible for housing. Ill never be housing ready, unless my 2010e and voucher cover a group home, thats no place to live. And this is what Im facing. I feel terribly guilty about my actions of the past, and didnt know how I was going to get away with it. At least my children are being taken care of doesnt sit right with me. I should be the one taking care of them, but I cant function.
Now my days are filled with trying to find a place to sit down, and eating 3 meals a day with 200 woman at any given time. I am extremely lonely, and pessimistic about life, that swallowing a handful of Tylenol didnt help any, it just put me more into a funk. And all I have to look forward to is trying to publish, but I have to put money in the pot to do that. The only thing I have control over is my blog, my story, not MY SIDE of the story. I am ashamed that I was trying to feed my children on borrowed time, and stolen money. Im ashamed that I put myself in debt, and even though I tried to clear my student loans with the forgiveness program, I am responsible for an outstanding debt to the IRS. I have no way of paying back the loans unless I Strike it rich as a published author, which is a day dream. Its going to take some time for me to complete a manuscript.
This is just my story. And maybe I can make a name for myself and have a few followers support me in my journey as a homeless victim. Now a product of my environment.