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 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.

Living on the street.

When I was kicked out of my mother’s apartment, I was living on the street. I had a denim jacket a pair of jeans ugh boots and a t shirt on when the house keys where taken from me. I had my Micheal kors pocket book with my identity in it and also my daughters birth certificate and social security number. I had my original birth certificate and social security number all located in my wallet, along with my marriage license. I had some cash in me, because I had my SSI. Not danting on me that I didn’t have an address I remained on the preaipice that I still had my SSI, not putting two and two together, this was court appointed mandated orders that I be legally evicted from the apartment.

It was the day before I was to get paid from social security, I had my phone and I was on the street. I returned my p.o box key to the store in which I was renting a p.o box for no reason, I chilled in Starbucks until closing. Then went to MacDonald’s to get something to eat. At midnight my Chase Bank got a direct deposit for 2500 dollars from HRA (human resources administration) from child support.

Previous I was going to family court because I was on welfare. I was getting 145 in cash every two weeks and food stamps at 649 a month. My mother was getting rent at 145 a month paid for by welfares hra services.

HRA makes single mothers go to family court to fight for child support. Child support offices down town on crystie street asks for the father’s name and last known address and anything on his identity you can give to locate the father. Which meant Kioko was going to be served papers as well for Aaron. But my daughter’s father, William, was in Pennsylvania and would be served papers work that his daughter was in the system. My son was 20 and working for Uber eats as a courier.

I lost my cash assistance because my son didn’t want to attend orientation for hra. He was another adult on the head of household case and he would have to turn in his W-2 or paystubs to prove he was working after high school. He has already turned in his high school diploma and did the finger imaging for me. But when he learned he had to do orientation which is job placement he got turned off and said he wasn’t going he was working.

So welfare cut my cash off to two dollars and let me keep my snap benefits. I had a second bank account in my mother’s name to put away money. She let me open the account. I called myself trying to start my own business reselling and trying to get into the human hair business. I was going to resell human hair on mecari where I was reselling things like clothes. It was pretty profitable but I couldn’t have more then 2000 dollars in my bank account because of SSI. Social security administration checks bank accounts and if you have more then 2000 in your bank account or have any direct deposits other then SSI they cut you off.

So my cash assistance was cut and the only check coming in was the rent check. So I took it and deposited on my phone because I was holding the account I forged my mother’s name and deposited the check. I told her I got a letter from HRA and the rent check was cut also the only thing I was getting was food stamps.

The cell phone bill was my responsibility. It had me and my mother on the plan but we also had tablets. And I had to have the iPhone 256 gig phone which I called forever gig phone. My friend at the time, the one who has two children and lives in Jersey City had the same phone. I was trying to keep up with the Jones. I was leading the phone and tablets my bill with spring was close to 500 dollars a month. Mind you I was only bringing home 733 a month in SSI. I was accustomed to over withdrawing on my account that I bought my daughter a guinea pig we named Riply and two hamsters Sam and Josh. But it’s the expenses, the cage accessories and food for the pets that I didn’t take into consideration. I just wanted my daughter to have the experiences I didn’t have. I had did the same things for my son not with pets but with video games. I was stealing money from my mother’s bank account and sing her credit cards to buy him video games that when I got an 800 dollar check from empire beauty schools bursar’s office I bought him the PS4.

I still was lax on laundry because I had shipped so much that my daughter has nothing but clothes and my son was financing himself from his job. He was paying his own cell phone bill and maintaining his bike with the help of my father that the 145 I stole went to maintaining the pets I bought my daughter. Mind you I was taking our retail credit like old navy Victoria secrets and others, I ended up with 26 different cards including lane Bryant and Ashley Stewart. I was reselling my clothes because I was purchasing online and if it didn’t fit i would sell it on mecari. There’s times my mother had to pay the sprint account which was in her name. I even had a retail card for furniture I purchased myself a new mattress so I didn’t have to sleep on a futon anymore.

So when I got a direct deposit for 2500 the first thing I did was pull out cash and rent a room at the days inn on 94th street and Broadway. At this time I was bat shit crazy I was out of my mind. I was hearing voices and thought I was the FBI witness protection program and they where using something called glass eye to monitor me. I thought Diddy was my boyfriend and he was watching over over through glass eye and I could hear his voice though music when I played it in my phone. I was having a conversation with myself.

I stayed at the hotel for 3 nights. I went to 125th street the next day and bought Mac makeup, and took a cab down Broadway and bought something to eat. My phone was cut off and I went to sprint and opened an account for myself and Diddy. I had four phones for no reason. They where Android phones and I bought a speaker so I could blue tooth music.

I thought Diddy was my boyfriend I was talking to him through my ear piece, and 50 cent wanted my opinion on what to do with powers 5th season, Eminem was my biggest fan because he was on the lettrs app also and went by the name Henry w which was just a guy that I befriended on the lettrs app who enjoyed my poetry. I thought Diddy was apart of the Illuminati and that he was trying to get me in and 50 cent had a crush on me and I was going to write hit songs for bad boy entertainment.

I had no one to call and I was locked out of my Facebook after completely embarrassing myself I had cut and pasted pictures found on the internet and I used a photo app to make a picture of me and Diddy together with my daughter in the middle like we where a happy family. I was posting that I call Sean John combs “Johnny” and he was my man. Family wasn’t in my page just friends that I grew up with and people I met at empire beauty school.

I fucked up my Instagram which is now closed because I was taking pictures from the internet and tagging celebrities with rumors I made up like Eminem confided in me that he was a transvestite and Rihanana was my best friend that she wanted me to write for her. But I had nothing but pictures of my daughter and myself on regular day activities with no likes on them. Only ten people where following me and each one of them saw my decline in mental health, including Elaine from Jersey city. Who was friends with Nonie who eventually got a brownstone through New York housing connect and moved her children and herself to 135th and Amsterdam ave from a sublet she was renting after leaving the building.

I was in the hotel room alone and I had four phones. I even went to the precent and had the police go with me to my mother’s apartment to get my clothes which where all in the shopping cart on the terrace. She let me in with the cops of course but it didn’t stop her from calling my son at work. Harlow, my pit bull was in her cage. And all that was left in my closet was a pair of torrid sweat pants and my mcm luggage bag that was purchased on mecari. The cops wouldn’t let me go through the dresser draws so I grabbed the two items. Blew a kiss at Harlow and left the apartment.

Harlow I bought from someone selling pitbull puppies on Craigslist for 300 dollars. I got her when she was 2 weeks old. The guinea pig had died and so did the two hamsters. I had gone to dyckman to cut off welfare and I resold my beats head phones to buy Harlow. I think that was the straw the broke the camel’s back for my family. My son was too threw with me and my daughter was acting out in school stealing from kids book bags and bringing the stuff to me. She was in special education and I had gone to social security to apply for SSI for her as well, which she got and I was payee for. But it wasn’t until I was on the phone with Elaine that I had stopped taking my daughter to school. Her two daughters went to charter school and had a week off so I was under the assumption that my daughter had the week off also. So I let her stay home. That’s when an investigation was done on me when I took my daughter back to school. She was missing homework and jcc her after school tutoring and I had missed an appointment with the specialist for special education who granted her an IEP and she was far behind in class work.

So when I was thrown out the cops where supposed to take me to path which is in the Bronx. Path is assessment for the homeless. But when I went back to get my clothes I stayed in the street. I had been in the hotel for three days. But my money ran out quickly. I bought a pair of sneakers and underwear. I had a laundry bag filled with a pair of sweat pants I bought on 125th street and socks. On my third day at the hotel when it was time for me to check out I stayed in street down Trump towers. I had walked down there from 94th street and went 57th and 8th Ave. I threw the sneakers out because I th9uggt through “glass eye” jayz would be collecting my stuff. I thought through all the cameras in the street they where all watching me make my stride towards bad boy like making the band and I had to go through these things in order to get signed at bad boy. That diddys personel would find me and bring me to his office.

I was on the street for three months. Time went by so quickly. I slept on a park bench and the train station. I eventually lost my pocket book with my identity. I was at the library making business wins with my home address attached to it on the computer they let me use for 30 minutes at a time.

I was turnstile underground market on 57th Street sitting on the train station steps or the time Warner shops building or Starbucks until they called the cops on me and asked me to leave because I was only getting the free sample of coffee and no purchasing anything . I even slept in a daune Reade pharmacy waiting area before the store manager closed it down. I was stealing food from Duane Reade I even stole I tablet from rite aid down in the Trump plaza area.

I was able to boost two att prepaid phones and connect to the city’s free WiFi by sitting in a little park outside Trump hotel. But I got arrested in MacDonald’s for loitering and they sent me to Central bookings downtown. I had to plead the fifth and I was let out on my own recongnice and given a metro card by the lawyer and I was sent on my way.

I was able to steal underwear and a pair of denim legging from daune Reade and I was using the bathroom at time Warner shops to change. I couldn’t brush my teeth but I had stolen deodorant and I was able to go with out smelling too bad. I was getting bits to eat at whole foods because they give out the sample cups so you can sample the buffet.

Someone in the train station gave me 200 dollars out of his pocket and told me God bless things will get better, so I bought a Google play card so I could listen to music and a pair of headphones so I could talk to Diddy, and I bought food.

I wasn’t worried about my period because I had an iud birth control in place, which illuminated me from getting my period every month. But I went three months in the street that one early morning I took my suite case that I found in front of TJ Maxx with my blanket and sheet inside, and I was sitting in front of the post office it was closed because it was a holiday. The cops came and called EMS, and they took me to st.lukes Roosevelt hospital. I was admitted and I was there for two months. My father had to come to sign off on paper work and they told me I was not able to go home and I would be taken to Franklin woman’s assessment shelter by cab, paid for by Medicaid. I was so out of it that I was convinced my friends from childhood going had HIV and that she had disappeared. The last thing my father did was give me a hug and he left . I was put on the haldol injection and I was released from the hospital two days later. All I had was a pair denim leggings a pair of boots I stole from a panhandler and a coat I stole as well. From the time I was admitted they had me on haldol. That was the first thing they pumped into my system. I spent my time going to group and sleeping. It still hasn’t dawned on me that I couldn’t go home. This is all now me remembering what had happened. The money that was given to me in the street I was going to the beauty supply store and buying synthetic hair and braiding my own hair in box braids while sitting on a park bench. I spent my time trying to get a cup of coffee from the outside vendors and Starbucks, that I was determined to let Diddy continue sending me messages through glass eye and I spent my time listening to music on treble an app I found.

When I got to Franklin I had to do intake so I could get a bed. Franklin was only assessment for 21days. Then you where transferred to a shelter. I was transferred to susans place 176th and Jerome ave.

Stamps no welfare. I had no clothes, Franklin gave me panties and a too tight bra and used clothes to wear. I had to start all over again.

Living homeless

I live in a woman’s shelter in the Bronx called susans place. I have a story to tell and instead of writing a book I decided to blog my journey, and it’s not a pretty one.

I suffer with schitophrenia, which is how I lost my family. I used to reside in Manhattan on the upper west side of Manhattan in the 90s area near Central park. I, in due respect am a mother of two but lost my rights as mother when I kept getting hospitalized for my mental health. I have seen the inside of a psych ward 25 times in 5 years. I was on zyprexia seeking outside patient psychiatric care and I was on ssi. I had gone back to school for cosmetology and now I’m in debt. I fear for my future .

I lost custody to my children to my mother who now has full custody of my 22 year old son and my 12 year old daughter, when acs served me papers with a restraining order to vacate the premises. See I was in the throes of my disorder, and I wasn’t taking my daughter to school. The board of education called acs on me, and they did an investigation on me.

I was thrown out of the apartment with the clothes on my back. The cops served me papers. But let’s not forget there where other factors to play like domestic violence, my son attacked me.

Now this is an outline of my story, and it’s not a happily ever after fairy tail. I have what’s called schitoaffective disorder. I by law have to stay away from my family. I’m considered a danger to them.

I did alot of things I’m not proud of like identity theft. I opened up credit under my mother’s name to buy school clothes for my daughter. I was receiving just SSI at 733 a month. I opened up almost all retail credit under my name which now I’m in debt for. I was paying the minimum on the cards I was using, but I also ran up a cell phone bill in my mother’s name which she spent 2900 to pay off and disconnect the bill.

I now live in a micha shelter which is for mental health and the disabled. I’m back on medication only this time I am on haldol an injection that I have to take once a month at the psych clinic which is located with in the shelter.

When I got evicted from my mother’s apartment, I lost my SSI because acs went to court to have me evicted from the premises, I can’t even be in the building or any where near my child’s school. This all happened 2017 when my son had turned 20 and my daughter was 10 years old.

Now, after loosing everything I have gotten my SSI back because my address is now that of the shelters and I have a phone with metro pcs, a tablet, and I just recently purchased a refurbished laptop so that I can blog my story or my journey of living in a woman’s shelter and being schitophrenic.

I fear for my future because I am in debt with student loans, I have lost my friends, which now I’m on social media accounts like tagged and hi 5 to meet people and talk to people.

My best friend this far is a 59 year old ex crack head I met at the shelter named Ruby we share the same dorm. She had bipolar disorder. She’s on ssi also, and is awaiting her turn to move into an apartment or shared is what the housing specialist call it.

I fear I will never get a place to live. That I will be bounced from different shelters or something worse. I never thought that my credit score would be apart of the equation when renting. I am already approved for a 2010e which is a voucher for mental health disorders living with DHS.( Department of homeless services.) I have even looked up ways to take my own life like purchasing nembutal which they call the suicide pill. I am greatly unhappy.

This is my introduction. No names given I’m just sharing how hard it is living with schitophrenia and what I’ve lost and gained and possibly willing to try but I am unhappy. I was used to being a mother. I didn’t realize I wasn’t functioning. I even had a job at the world famous dry bar salon and I was unable to perform as a stylist. I got fired.

My son hates the air I breathe and my daughter is probably better off with my mother. But I lost my family. I’m alone in the world. It’s not like I had many friends to begin with just people I grew up with, who are far more advanced then I am, or ever was.

I decided that my blog, will be my journal, and instead of trying to publish a book I will share myself online through a blog, like things I remember with my times in a psych ward, my stint with dating social media bums. And why I no longer have Facebook or Instagram.

Thank you for reading my introduction. Follow me.