August 31st - A Beautiful Piece of News

I have just found out that I have to move in to secondary housing, and I really do not know what to say to this.  I know that this is what has to happen, but that does not make it any easier, unfortunately.  I  have had my whole life snatched from me, and there is NOTHING that I can do about it, which really makes me angry.  I have lost my job, my career, my material possessions... everything…and I have to go for a year!  Another year of my life shot to shit!

I will let you know what will happen...I have yet to find out as the interview sessions are occurring, and the police think that this is the best possible option.  That, and the fact, that I have to stay off the grid, period.  I cannot put anything in my name, as as for my name, they think that it is a good option for me to change it!  What a beautiful piece of news!

August 31st - All Hell Breaks Loose!

Well, all hell broke out today as a result of said weekend.  I am ashamed to say that I was most grateful about it, as at least someone was as upset about the abuse of power in here as I was.

I was telling my current favourite counsellor about it, Tina, and she could not believe it.  I appreciate Tina for the fact that she understands sarcasm and witticisms and that, because of this, she is easy to converse with.  Upon hearing the ‘tale of woe’ concerning the weekend, she lined up a meeting with the director of the house, and again, I reiterated the tale.  I was most grateful to find out that she was horrified with the goings on in the house, and the one thing that astounded me was how gracious she was.  She ended up talking to all three of the residents who were forced into servitude, and had us all write letters, which we all did. 

The look on the director’s face when I told her about the texting that was going on, while I was conversing with the counsellor, was nothing short of a ‘Kodak Moment’.  Her eyes went as big as saucers when I mentioned that particular grievance, and she took that as badly as I had.  Again, I felt gratitude.  It is not easy when you have lost EVERYTHING…Your houses, your rentals, your bank accounts, your job (because you have to remain under the radar) your family, your self-esteem, and then finally your dignity.   Tina told me today that the one thing that a woman should never be forced to lose is her dignity…I had never really thought about that before…The only thing that I thought that I still had in check was my morals, but I guess that dignity is still there, albeit by its fingernails.

Tina spent a lot of time with me today, and made me feel briefly like I was not alone.  I ended up spending the whole day in meetings, and by the end of the day, I had such a headache.  Visiting your demons is never easy…especially when said demons are expunged all in a matter of hours.  I spend a lot of time burying them, so when they are forced to resurface, it is not an articulate production. For instance, I was meeting with an ex- police officer who is mandated to educate us in the best way to hide.  I have been given the direct instruction of the police that are holding the file that I am to stay ‘off the grid”…period.  He listened to me, acting like a complete cop, and then not understanding that you cannot exactly retrieve the information mentally on command.  Like every cop before, he will not understand the severity of my situation until he reads the original file that has been compiled for court.  When he reads that, then like every other cop who did not believe me…I will receive the respect and help that I deserve.  I know that police are fed fish tales every day, and in a few days he will find out that I am fighting the ‘Lockeness monster’.  It has happened this way since February…why I delude myself into thinking that the results will be any different amazes me.  Either I am an optimist and I do not know it, or I am naive, or just plain stupid.  I think that I will stick with the optimist…it makes me feel better than the other two options do. 

Well, after politely venting about the police officer, and ranting that my attacker had a shoot- out with the Mexican cartel in North Dakota, that he had asked me to try and obtain a handgun, (which of course I never did), and that anyone can get refugee status in Canada, even when they sneak past the border, that I stared at Tina, and ran after the police officer to tell him!  See, counselling works!  At that point, now that I was getting him something to look into, he changed a bit.  My fish grew a few inches with that information, I think.

After that, I had a meeting with the legal advocate, who saw all of the documents on my child custody suit that I sold practically everything to get.  Those documents that were signed in August of last year are STILL not filed with the courts, and it is blatant misconduct of my husband’s lawyer to hold them hostage for the payment of his bill.  Currently because those documents are not filed, I am still married, I have joint custody with he who was nothing but a psychological and emotional terrorist, and he pays no child support, which was the purchase price of the sole custody that was agreed to.  I have, after giving up everything to repurchase my daughter through the court system… nothing.   Charlotte, who seems to be a very driven and ambitious individual, who also empathizes with my situation, the perfect advocate, is going to look into it to see what can be done.  I have to confess with you that martyrdom gets very old after a while, especially when it is only the child that is the loser in the end.

So, it was a very productive day.  I am very grateful to be here, and I am very grateful that places like this exist.  I know that in facilities like this, the residents are considered to be leeches on the system; even at one point, I was ignorant enough to believe that.   It is amazing what happens when your protective bubble is popped…you find out in all of your supposed wisdom, just how ignorant you really are.

August 27th and 28th - What a Weekend...at the Hilton

It was a weekend from hell, in some respects.  It was the first weekend in the new family shelter and it was very trying to say the least.  The social workers here on the weekend all need a new vocation, as they are absolutely useless, but are very good at giving orders!  All the women here are fragile in one way or another;   One is pregnant with her ninth child, (can you imagine?!  NINE!!)  some are on the run from someone who has tried to kill them…like me, some fresh out of the hospital….one little girl, age of only 18, was here as her boyfriend beat the hell out of her, and the foetus died from it.  They did not discover until a month later that the baby was dead!  It is a wonder that she is still alive; and this poor girl went back to the man, the father, that killed her child, and respectively nearly killed her!  All here are victims of abuse…hence fragile.

It was like a tea party for the staff all weekend.  They locked themselves in the office, talking and gossiping.  Obviously the residents here were fodder for conversation, but every request was met as a major inconvenience (Hence the comment that they need to seek out a new vocation).  The staff here on the weekdays are marvellous, making time for the residents, and reasonably stressed, but who isn’t.  Thirteen families are here, and all of them have their own individual needs…and of course, we all need them met ‘right now’.  Poor girls!  But they do their best, and the lady that is the director of the children’s program is a gem.  They could not replace her if they tried!  Personally, I think that she should be canonized as a saint!!  Planted at the kitchen table for their garden party, they used all of the tomatoes and cucumbers to make their own salad (these vegetables were to be used for the “house salad” for the residents, and served us lettuce.  Lunch here at the house is to be served at noon…it was 1:00pm before they decided to feed the 20 odd children that were here, crying as they were hungry.  It was terrible.

There is a list for kitchen duty, and every day you are designated to help clean after said meal.  No one showed up to help.  I ended up doing clean up 7 times over two days with 2 other ladies…the lady with the 9 kids no one holds responsible…I think that all the women here would rather do the work, and let her contend with her brood.  And even though it was only the 3 of us doing the work of the whole house, when we sat to watch TV, we were ordered back into the kitchen to do it again, all though we had been doing it all day!!  And then she was upset, when we finally said no.  I did at least…I am pretty sure that slavery was abolished.  Even though I am here at the mercy of the government, for which I am very grateful, there have to be limits…I had reached mine at the time.

The shelter’s glass is all bulletproof, and they have garage door covers that are lowered at night to protect the residents…as I have a professional assassin after me, this is a very important feature to my mental peace.  At night we are all locked in like the ‘Tower Crown Jewels’, and this makes us happy…me at least.  BUT these particular nights I was less than happy.  The social worker lowered the doors, but did not put them down all of the way, and did not even lock them!  I was disconcerted to say the least, so I went over to said social worker to show her the way that they needed to be lowered.  She was very resentful and condescending of my efforts, and after a small disagreement conceded to do it my way.  I mentioned to her that none of the other windows around the house, (with the exception of the shutters that they did not raise all weekend that made the house resemble a prison!!) were not locked, but to no avail.  She did nothing about it; So much for the concerns of the residents!

Call me paranoid!  I know that my attacker is in jail, but since my rack and pinion steering bolts were deliberately loosened by some unknown assailant, I am now rightfully afraid.  (I have yet to blog about that situation with the steering!)  Because these damn doors were not locked properly, I did not sleep for 2 days, on top of the fact that my personal demons rear their ugly head every night between 2-6am.  On Saturday night, I found myself crawling the hallways, looking for someone to talk to.  At this time of night, one obviously cannot be that choosy, and found one of the social workers in the main office.  Yes, it ended up being one of those rare occasions that I actually wanted to talk, and the stupid woman was sending and responding to text messages the whole time I am pouring out my heart to her.  Obviously she was unworthy, but still!  I am pretty sure that she receives a paycheque to listen to people, and hear stories that she could not give a damn about.  The least that she can do is not text, and PRETEND that she is interested!!  The final insult was that she decided to send me to bed.  Well, geez, if I could sleep do you really think that I would be sitting here talking to you!  Wow!  Needless to say, I went back upstairs, and proceeded with the attack of the personal demons; At least the demons are always interested.

Well, welcome to my weekend…How was yours?

August 26th - Tired...

Spending the evening with my ‘Mouse’ (my daughter) tonight.  We have been furiously diarizing out our thoughts and feelings, and both of us I think are mentally fatigued.  I was way past fatigued a year and a half ago, and I swear that this life is a ‘life sentence’, and not a life.  Heavy is the head that wears the crown…responsibility (big one), morality ( especially tough when you are the only one that is executing this virtue), and ethically (same argument).

 Why do the people who try receive the most persecution…They say that GOD loves those the most who are persecuted.  He must absolutely adore me!!  All I have to say is…I have done my best.  If I have failed, I tried my utmost to persevere.  As long as ‘His will be done’, that is what matters.  All I hope is that His will includes something positive for me and my daughter other than martyrdom.

 I am so tired, mentally, physically, emotionally…there is nothing left.  I am starting to feel like a sadist!  God help me!!

August 23 - The Pill that is Hard to Swallow

The ‘Reign of Terror’ from the psychotic women’s shelter is continuing.  I forgot all of my medication and my daughters at the shelter, and her ‘genius’ father sends her home without the medication that has to obtained on a triplicate prescription form!  I tried to ask them if there was some way that they could send it to my new location, so as to avert having to go back, but it was a downright refusal to do such.

After loading my daughter into the truck, I make the long journey back to the shelter, by which time my daughter has fallen asleep in the truck, and I have no wish to get her up.  She cannot come in anyway, and she was forced to come with me, as she cannot stay at the shelter without my supervision…so I have been forced to drag her back to my own personal hell. 

I go in, picked it up, inquired about the cat, and thanked them for their help.  I decided to take a look at the pills while I was waiting my turn at the carwash, and found out that all of my daughter’s meds were not there!  As well as that, all of my Tylenol 3 was missing!  I found it to be quite ironic that all the meds that held street value were missing, and all the ‘junk’ was returned!  Was I MAD!!  I phoned them, and told them that all of my daughter’s meds were missing, and that she had none, and I had no money to replace them.  “Too bad”, was their reply.  They had disposed of them, and that was the end of that.  Personally, I think that they sold them, or were keeping them for resale!

Now the panic was setting in!  I called the pharmacy to see if she had a refill, and it was able to be released to me.  Yeah!  Good news…

Can it be transferred to a local pharmacy closer to my location?  No, was the answer!  DAMN!!  Back in the car for another huge drive… all because of the idiots at the shelter!

August 22 - The Best Part of Me

The best part of my life, and the only part that is left of the former, comes in on the airplane today!  I love her so!!  At least I now have somewhere to take her, which was not the case 12 hours ago!!  It was one of the more stressful parts of my existance, but at least it is done.  Finally, someone believes about the imminent danger that we are in, and wants to help, for which I am eternally grateful.

My worker, from the 'shelter from hell' contacted someone, and FINALLY I have been taken in, DISPITE the fact that I do NOT have a drug or alcohol addiction.  Can you believe it?!

I was turned down by two different shelters because I do NOT have a problem with either!  I did not know what to say!  I wonder what the FED's would think of the fact that the drug addicts are embraced, and the tax payers are left in the ditch.  There is just something SO wrong with the system!!  It is not like this situation is of my making!  The Federal Government allowed this bastard into the country, and I am paying for that fact!!  I have a massive problem with this...but what do I know?  What do you think?  Personally, I think that they should be held liable for it...but again, what do I know? But back to the good news...well, kind of...

My baby daughter, who is not really a baby, but I still think of her that way, is flying in, and I have a shelter to take her to for 21 days...for which I am grateful.  At that point, they get to decide as to what to do with us...as our lives, primarily mine, are still in jeopardy.  I have to confess though, that the police have done a very good job of investigating my attacker, and in spite of the fact that they have had him in custody since February of this year, they are taking it very seriously. All of the bolts and screws in my "rack and pinion steering" (SP?) on my truck was loosened; And they are accepting the fact that this was a deliberate attempt on my life.

I get to see my husband again today...who was supposed to file our custody documents in early August of LAST year, and they are still not filed a year later!   I will bite my tongue 'til it bleeds, if that is what it takes, to not let him know that I KNOW!!  Talk about difficult!  Our custody order states that I have sole custody, and in return, he makes no payments for child support; Because the documents are NOT FILED, he still has joint custody, AND he still makes no child support payments!  According to the courts, this is because he has not paid his lawyer...and at the rate that he is paying the lawyer, my husband will have paid this debt by the time that my 7 year old daughter is 65! And this seems to be OK...

But today, I will have my angel in my arms where she should be, and the place where she is most used to being.  I am SO happy!!  At least I still have her.  What are the BMW's, the houses, the bank accounts, etc, if you lose the thing that is the most precious....your family?

August 20th - All for Crack -

Did a puzzle for the bulk of the day today, while trying to hide from the hostilities of the shelter.  As the bulk of the house are crack addicts, or have other ongoing addiction issues, they were definitely people to be avoided at best.   I had been doing it for two days and quite a few girls joined in to get it completed.  I sent Julie out to go and by some tape with the bribe of a few cigarettes and ‘she’ went willingly.  I think that everyone liked the idea that I was about to execute.

The shelter, having only tables, and basic plastic chairs found in a cafeteria at best, resembled a prison.  All the walls are gray brick, and there are rags hanging in the windows, feigning to be curtains.  All the inmates, as I sarcastically define us, thought that it would be nice for said puzzle to be put on the wall.  First it is not steal able, and secondly, there is no glass that someone could smash, and potentially use as a weapon.  I put clear packing tape all on the face of the puzzle to keep it together, and then taped it on the wall.  It was funny how much it seemed to mean to the residents…it was like a little piece of home or the closest that some had been to one in a while, at least.  I was leaving my mark, for better or worse, embodied in said puzzle, and in 36 hours I was leaving, still not knowing where I was going to go.  Children for obvious reasons were not allowed to even be near that building (I wonder why?), and I would not be able to stay the minute that my daughter landed.  I have an ongoing anxiety, eating at the very core of me, and these women who are supposedly social workers are doing sweet f-all to try to help me find the next step!   Useless!!

Later this evening while sitting in the smoking room with said puzzle, a lady of about 50 came up to me.  She looked like she had been dragged through the bush, and was barely coherent. She had a bad dye job, even worse breath, and I was immediately uncomfortable. “Hey, do you do crack?”  she whispered, as she sidled up close to me.

“No,” I replied, trying to keep the shock off my face, and out of my voice.  “I have never done drugs,” I continued, as I took a drag of my cigarette, and looked down at the ashtray on the table.

“You should try it,” she whispered again, with a devious smile on her face.  ‘Sure’, I am thinking,’ so that I can look like you in a few months.  Great idea!’

“No,” I replied again,” It would end my career forever.”  Again, I took another drag of my cigarette, and looked out the bulletproof glass at the other women in the adjacent room, willing one of them to break up this demented conversation.

“Do you have $20.00?” she persisted, clearly getting frustrated with me, and my lack of cooperation.

“No,” I replied again, and then I finally looked at her.  ”If I had money, do you really think that I would be in here?”

She returned my stare, and instantly started to become very hostile.   “Yes, you do”, she growled back at me.

Now I was starting to get riled with her.  “No, I don’t.  I have not had any form of income for two and a half years, and I have nothing left to help you.”  She looked at me, completely unconvinced, and proceeded to try again.

“Do you have $7.00?”  She asked, staring at me, as if looking for some ‘tell’ that would prove that I was lying.  She looked, and unfortunately, she got it.

“No”, I replied again, with less conviction than I had hoped to portray.  Damn, she was good…like a bloody lawyer.  Just keep asking the same questions, and then they wear you down; and she knew that she had me too.

“You do too have $20.00, and you are going to give it to me!!”  She demanded menacingly.  The one thing that I have learned to do, if you have to deal with people like this is to walk away, unless they are gang members or professional assassins.  Short of that, it tends to be the best thing to do…especially if the perpetrator is scared of losing her bed, or being banned from the shelter for a month for bullying and/or blackmail.  I picked up my cigarettes off the table, stared at her, and walked out.

 It was not until I reached the stairwell that I burst into tears, while shaking violently.  She had scared me half to death, and not being a product of the streets, I had dealt with it the best way that I knew how.  Just then I felt two people beside me, Diana, another abused girl just like me, came up behind me and gave me a hug.  She too was not a product of the system, out of her ‘bubble’, and just a victim of other people’s stupidity, and pure bad luck.  There was a witness to what happened, but I did not see her come in at the end of the conversation with my coercer, and it was the most unlikely person imaginable…Julie.  It is funny that one person that should help me, would be the only man in the house…our transvestite…and that it should be “she”, who would one of the only people in the house who really behaved with the attributes of a true woman. 

Just Another Day in Paradise

One of the girls was gang raped outside yesterday, in broad daylight, and the horror that it has spread through the residents is atrocious.  Four men, who sat outside of the building all day ingesting huge amounts of beer, attacked her in the adjacent parking lot.  IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!!  I think that is the fact that hurts the most...is no one safe?

Everyone there was very pensive for the rest of the evening, most of us selfishly thanking GOD that we were the ones who were spared.  A few of the girls of less worldly experience, simply bawling from the reality of the situation.  Many could not eat, most going to bed early to make it all go away. 
Although we were cautious before, we are now especially vigilant.  We now travel in packs, and trivialities like cigarette and drug debts have been temporarily forgotten.  The occupancy of the shelter has also nearly doubled in the last 48 hours...now, it is crowded.  It will not be long before tempers flare due to the lack of personal space that is afforded.

As for the cat, that poor little man, who has been camped out in my truck for the last 5 days, pity has now prevailed.  I have been taking 5 pilgrimages out to the car a day, to spend time with him, turning on the air conditioning, and ensuring that he had a clean litter box, food, and especially water.  It has not been that hot the last few days, for which I have been grateful...and when I close my eyes, my last prayer is for him; That he will have a safe night, and that he will be still in the car, and very much alive the next morning.  Today I was called to the office, and when the word 'cat' was raised, I was very much expecting the worst.  Instead, the workers had interceded and found someone that was prepared to take him for a few days...A Vet.  They did not want to call the Animal Protection on me, they knew that I was doing my very best, being faithful of his care, and they knew that the cat was my daughters.  So....they helped!!!  Oh, how grateful I am.  Now, it is the littlest things that you are grateful for, especially when people offer help!  Now kitty is at the kitty spa until Monday, and I will be out tomorrow vigilantly shopping for a home. I hope that I can find something that I can afford.

 I have so much more to tell, but I have a curfew to honour, and lateness will land me on the street; At present a repercussion that I am not going to flirt with.  We will try this again tomorrow.

The Heavy Crown

     " Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown, Don't Let the Greatness get You Down"
                                                                     -  Katy Perry -

Today the eldest of the two younger sisters got a hold of me on my cellphone..."Where are you?"  was the primary question.  Where am I?,  I wonder..."I don't think that information is important," I replied, and proceeded to ask her what she was doing.

She mentioned that our father had just left her house, and was inquiring as to my whereabouts.  "That is interesting," I replied, "as he knows exactly where I am."

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The intervention that I had previously mentioned in another blog post was attended by both of my sisters, and the Mistress in early July of this year;  The youngest of the two I still had a major beef with.  I had played 'Mom' to her from the approximate age of 13 to around 17 or 18, because she was being beaten by my father.  I had to take her in a second time when she graduated from private school, but was expelled 2 days before the graduation ceremonies due to drinking and fornicating.  My father, being the model of generosity sent her back to Canada without a cent to her support.  Again she became my financial burden until I married.  After my wedding, we did not speak for years...she did not need me anymore.

At the intervention both sister attested and proclaimed their love and devotion for me.  The youngest then made the offer that if the situation called for it, my daughter and I could stay with her.  The elder of the two said plenty in regards to her affection through her tears, but offered nothing...albeit she makes $250,000+ a year.  She, like my father love their wallets much more than me, and my daughter.

I left with the eldest sister a 2.5ct diamond solitaire, as well as 2 diamond watches, and other valuable pieces.  I told her to give the diamond and the diamond watches to my daughter when she turned 21 years of age, the balance was to be given to her on her 18th birthday.

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Just before I left the Mistress' house a week ago, I had two difficult converstions with my family.  The youngest of the two who had offered me a place to stay in the event that it was required, renegged her offer due to the cat....She did not want the cat in the house. Hence, the shelter is where I now find myself.  The second call was from my father.

My father is very busy trying to impress the elder of the two younger sisters...reason one, she is the boy that he never had, and secondly, due to her income.  As he has money, he thinks that she is now his 'social equal'.  I was his social equal until the divorce started, and I had to 'purchase' my daughter through the legal system.  (Oh, there is another blog to post!!)  Now that I have no money, and cannot pay back what I borrow, I have been cut off.  I told my father that he was sentencing me to a woman's shelter...His reply, "Do it!! Get off your ass, and review your priorities.  Your priorities are completely fucked up!" 

What are my priorities? you ask.  Here they are:

1.  Getting help with my depression, and trying to put myself priority for the first time in a VERY long time.  I need to get out of this nervous breakdown rut that I am prisoner in, and get my health back; Then, and only then, can I get back to work.

2.  My daughter.  She too needs her mother back, and desperately needs another psychiatrist.  Her psychiatrist dumped her in June, as he had decided to re-specialize;  Now I have to find a new one.  She has ADHD and ODD which has been exacerbated by stress.  She has now lost her home,...thankfully not her beloved cat yet, who is living in the parking lot in my truck!....and has no security in the documents "Mummy" purchased because they have not been filed!!  (yet another post to follow at some point)  Poor child!

3.  Try and find an income

4.  Try and find a home

5. Get my daughter into school in the next few weeks.

These priorities are obviously not in order, but there they are.  Could someone please tell me what is wrong with my priorities?

My father has absolutely NO understanding of clinical depression, and chooses not to understand it.  I have been hospitalized twice for it when I was in my late teens, and even then, he refused to try.  My psychiatrist tried to explain it to him....he said that I was faking, and proceeded to throw a fit in front of the psychiatrist, as well as exercise his filthy temper.  As a result, he was banned from any further visits...and that was back then...20 years ago.  His ignorance continues, and his failure to try, drives a wedge that will stop him from seeing both myself and my daughter.  My love has never been bought, and neither will my daughter's.  If I will teach her anything, I will teach her that love is NOT conditional.

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"After I was told by our sister that I could not stay with her, I went to the only place that was left...the women's shelter," I told my sister.  "These were the options that I was left with."  She was apparently horrified, but protested that there had to be another option.  I told her AGAIN that my husband had put paid to all of my former relationships while I had been living out of province from him, trying to put put together his dream of returning to his 'hometown'.

'Maybe we can go for coffee tomorrow?' she asked.  I did not see the point of that and told her so.  'Well maybe next week when you are feeling better,'  she attempted to console..
.'What would be the point of that?' I asked her again.... so that she can continue to try and absolve her conscience.  Over my dead body!
'But, I worry about you', she interjected again.  Could someone please explain to me how she can have such a poor opinion of my intelligence?  People who love each other help each other; They do not leave them with whores, transvestitites, and drug addicts...THIS is why children are removed from these situations...they are defined as being very dangerous.  Yes, my darling sister, this is how much you worry; This is how you love.

My sister's reaction was to blame everything on the littlest sister, that had made the offer to let us stay with her.  I told her that she was just as guilty as she offered nothing.  I was gentle at the beginning, until she said,"Well, you can take the jewellery that I have here and sell it!"  Wow!  I couldn't believe it.  She makes $ 250,000+ a year.  She could have given me something...not alot, something to ease the burden...helped me find a home...one needs money for gas to do that, what about deposit money for the property....something!  And she knew from my father that I was very good at paying back large amounts of cash. 

I have to confess at the time that she suggested that I sell my daughter's inheritance I blew my lid with her.  I told her that I was not going to let her hide behind her platitudes.  I told her that I was in one of the more dangerous situations that I could be in, but still she would not take us.  It conflicted too much with her lifestyle.  Then she had the addasity to say, "Well, at least you are where you can get the help that you need."  I was mad.  Tell yourself that, my sister.  Tell yourself whatever it takes to make you sleep better at night.  You are very selfish, and at some time, you will be labled for what you are.  And as for my daughter's inheritance...she may find out that it is due to her soon, if I do not find my way through this mess. GOD knows that my answers do not lie with those who bear the responsibility to help...this crown of oppression is mine to bear...but it is also mine to remember.

What a wonderful women's world...

Here I am after two days in the woman's shelter, although I differ on the authenticity of that title.  I will hereby explain as to why...

I was frankly terrified at the time that I walked in.  After making many phone calls that would give you no addresses, just phone numbers, I finally found a shelter that would take me in.  I went to the address full of apprehension, not having the faintest idea of what to expect but nevertheless, expecting the worst.  "Who are you, and what is your name?" came a voice from a vault door, surrounded by cameras.  "  I have an appointment here to meet with Clara,"  I replied.  The voice from the door went away and came back..."we have no record of a meeting with you," was the response.  Now I am not only terrified, as I watch the 'john's' doing their rounds, but annoyed.  "I just got off the phone with Clara, and she invited me here...she is one of the workers here, is she not?"  The cars started slowing down, one red car particularly, looking at me like I was prey for the taking.  "Can you hurry up please," as I addressed the speaker box again.  " I am very scared right now, and I am not safe at all out here!"  Finally the door buzzed, and I was forced to throw open the mighty door.  "Go to the second floor," I was instructed by the box.  It was a very unwelcoming building, although you could see at some point that someone had tried.  Damage colourful tile decorated the floor, although it was cracked and worn...many tiles even missing.  The walls were solid brick, and although there were many windows, it resembled a prison.  When I finally got to the second floor, a woman met me there.  "I am Clara," she said, with a smile, " and you are?"  I repeated my name again to her. "Come with me," she said with a smile, and I followed her into an office, clutching my handbag for dear life.  "It is very daunting when you first get here, but you will find that you will adjust."  " I am just thankful for the facilities that you offer and I am just grateful that I will not have to spend another night in my truck." I replied as I gave her a small smile...I meant what I said.  After intake, I was thrown in with the residents, and what a shock that was for someone who has always lived more or less the whole of their life on the better side of the tracks.

The place was crawling with the unfortunates of society...One woman could barely walk, she was so high on something.  Then I was introduced to 'Julie', a black man, wearing men's clothes, with long gel fingernails.  I was advised that some of the girls are tough here, "but I am one of the gentle girls here," he/she explained, with the bend of the wrist, and a flourish of the hand.  Beautiful, was my sarcastic commentary to myself.  I sat in a chair in the smoking room, and proceeded to look around.  The girls started laughing.  "You look terrified," laughed a 400 lb girl, but then she stopped.  "It is not that bad, you will see."  She proceeded to tell a story about herself to the other girls in the room;  I believe that she was the 'entertainment' in the facility.

"I just made $200.00 last night...no sex!"  All the girls pricked up their ears.  "How?", asked one, with obvious interest.  "I beat a guy last night, he paid me to do it!!"  I felt my jaw drop to the floor.  "Yeah, I had to tie him up, and beat the shit out of the fucker.  He also gave me a cattle prod to use on him...made him cum too!  I just laid on him the beating of his life; He loved it!"  Oh, my F-ing God, I thought to myself...just when I thought that I had heard everything!  All the girls in the room were howling with laughter.  I have to admit, I had to laugh too, but I am pretty sure that it was a reaction to the pure shock that I was feeling.  "You are a dominatrix,"  I asked in horror, but with the smallest smile, so as not to have her think that I was judging her.  "Oh, yeah," she said, "but I like to get the beats too, don't get me wrong.  We have parties; no drugs, no alcohol, are the rules, but don't expect to come and not get bruised,"  she laughed.  " I am 5 months pregnant, so there are limits to how much I can take a beating right now, but I will still take 'em.  I LOVE it!!" 

A few hours later, I come into the room again, and there is a girl having a seizure on the floor.  "What happened?" I asked, feeling sorry for the party writhing on the floor.  "Oh, this is her second one of the day", the dark haired girl replied..."She always has one of them after she has crack.  She'll have two more before the day is done."  I looked at the girl with sorrow.  Does she not realize that she is doing this to herself?"  It is unfortunate to say the least. 

Last night a native american man came in with two huge hoop earrings in, a ladies diamondesque watch, and a cocktail ring...He also had the longest nails I have seen in a while, blood red in colour.  He too was a resident of the shelter.

What does a man do with no option?

Right now I am sitting in a beat up motel room in the middle of nowhere, trying to come to terms with my situation, and preparing for the inevitable.  Monday, I have to swallow the pill of humility again...I have to go to the Women's shelter.  Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse (again), it did.  How the mighty have fallen.  After having multiple licenses to practice, four houses, top end cars, and more money than I could spend...reduced to one high end vehicle, one child, one cat, a suitcase, and two storage units...that's it.

Am I ever scared right now...Are they going to take my daughter?  This will be my second venture out to the 'shelter' world...first time I was 15.  I had to live in a Youth Emergency Shelter to escape my excessively abusive father, who could not deal with my mothers terminal illness, and needed someone to take it out on.  After living with friends for a month, and then on the street with nothing but the clothes on my back, (I was not allowed to take anything with me from the house), the shelter was bliss in comparison to going home.  That story turned out well in the end, but I have no idea how this will.
I stayed there until my 16th birthday, by which time I was able to join the work force.  I defied all the odds...and I did really well.  I have to say, of that I am proud.

I was going to commit suicide last month...I had completely given up, not to mention that the party who tried to kill me has been held in jail since February. He is on trial in December of this year, and if they do not deport him, he may finish the job.  He told me exactly how he was going to do it too, complete with cutting me to pieces.  Not looking forward to that if he is let out with time served. The words 'Justice System' is the biggest farce in modern day times.   I had it all planned, and then a last minute intervention happened when I started securing items to different parties on the pretence of 'secured storage'...To be honest with you...that would be the preferred course of action, rather than to endure this further humiliation.

I was forced to sell my last house, because I could not make the payments anymore, and have not had ANY form of an income in three years...I was living off of assets.  With my line of work, bankruptcy means you lose your license to practice, and I truthfully don't think my pride could have handled that either.  Why am I not working?  You will find out why soon when we get there, but I will give you this...due to my circumstances, I had a huge nervous breakdown.  I have yet to recover from this...I have been enduring life, period.  I have not had a cent in child support, no assistance from the government due to the high amount of assets, but no liquid cash.  I have systematically sold off everything that I own.  Now I have nowhere to go...all options are closed, or are too dangerous to my fragile mental state.  What other options do I have?

This is the blog of my life...most consider it for fodder for a soap opera, or a horror story, but the contents of this are all true.  The last four years of my life that has been a 'Living Hell' with no apparent end in sight.  Every time that you think that it cannot possible get worse...guess what?...it does!  I have for the last two years been trying to write a book about my experiences, but with what goes on, and how fast these horrific events occur, the book will have to wait, and at the rate that I am going, the book may never happen; Either by cause or events.  I want to document some of this...for myself, and for others.  A lot can be learned through my experiences

The reason for the title of Captiva Elizabetha, are some of the similarities that I have with Elizabeth 1st of England.  She was continually persecuted and tested, some by fault of her own, more often by slander, rumors, and blatantly persecuted, either by her family, friends, or just the people around her.  She also had her life and safety continually threatened....and the irony of it is...people are more willing to believe the worst of people rather than the truth.  Many people are threatened and alienated just for their clinging to their morals and standards, and have their motives bastardized for nothing more than spite.

Captiva Elizabetha means Captive Elizabeth in Latin.  She signed her name this way while she was held prisoner by her sister, "Bloody Mary".  She, alike me, was a captive: Not only physically, but of her reputation, her opinions, moral decisions, beliefs, and her current situation.    

Elizabeth always put her subjects first in everything that she did, although most suspected her motivation.  Although she was a calculating and conniving shrew at times, she always had her priorities right, putting others first, although sometimes it did not always seem that way.  Although Elizabeth and I differ with the ability to connive, there are more similarities than differences. 

Although this is a story of my life, and not hers, I thought that I should introduce the inspiration to the title, and this way when reference is made, you, the reader will understand why...  Welcome to Captiva Elizabetha.