Three Years A Vagabond | Part One

January 14, 2020
November 2014 - March 31, 2015
a dilapadated house in the middle of the woods by Svetlana Gumerova, courtesy Unsplash Svetlana Gumerova When things started falling apart shortly after I had declared my med-free status to the Children's Village, they set out to disrupt my life on three fronts. I was largely unaware of the conspiracy against me until it had nearly fallen in place. I'm not publishing this story for sympathy. I made mistakes here, too. My hope is that others who are in crisis who get a hold of this story avoid the mistakes you are about to read about in the coming paragraphs.
If you want to distance yourself from people who don't know how to let things go, you cannot give them fair warning. You must ghost them for your survival. Despite moving nearly forty miles away from Yonkers, I maintained too much telephone and social media contact with people from my past who have had a deliberate history of causing me harm and grief. Worse, I allowed a mole into my home (aftercare worker is the preferred term) who would eventually be one of four individuals who made house calls to my landlord, [#a2j44t] in the late evening. I know this because I paid for a cable box in my room, and the account holder turned Caller ID on TV on.
Despite the end result, [#a2j44t] is a good natured person, I want to make this clear. He was fed bad information, and rather than ask me to validate its accuracy, he chose to take it as gospel, and his demeanor toward me changed. I want to emphasize that The Children's Village had been MIA in the treatment process for upwards of a decade, meaning none of their insight should have never, or currently ever, be taken seriously, especially because they tried purging me from the Medicaid rolls in 2007. When I was trying to fight for my SNAP benefits, which were cut off the week before Thanksgiving, the landlord's family offered me their food. When I got stranded waiting for a meeting with my aftercare worker that did not happen, his sons picked me up at the train station.
I did attempt to reach out to the Westchester County DSS at 85 Court Street in White Plains twice before my eviction. They claimed that they cannot offer any guidance or assistance until a person is actually on the street. This is an admission that Homeless Prevention is not a priority for County Government, and that I could not count on them for help (I am not aware of whether that policy changed since George Latimer took office). I attended occasional social functions in White Plains to get a pulse of how the County dealt with its homeless problems, and their solutions had the potential to put me in harms way or further rob me of my sovereignty. I took one of their suggestions and stayed in the OASIS shelter in New Rochelle, but it seemed they were more focused on gaining payee status over my SSI than actually helping me get off the street. So I ghosted them, too.
That experience reminded me how important it is to "keep the worlds separate", which is a common mantra of stability in the Kingdom Hearts universe that I sought out for my day-to-day affairs. These pleas were continually ignored because the people trying to break those divides were bent on destabilizing my circumstances, all because I was no longer on medication, even though I didn't do it alone. They would rather "sue the Rockland Psychiatric Center" than lose a patient. The livelihoods of social service entities (SSEs) depend on people who are perpetually medicated, sheepish, and hopelessly dependent. These were people acting on selfish motives in order to feel important again. Even if I was well off, I would never want to move back to Westchester County as these people are too dangerous to be around.

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