#can you imagine a house that costs $350k

[cuntwrap--supreme]

Got blocked by some rando on an Instagram post about how the price of living in my city is rising more than almost everywhere else in the country because he was saying if you're over 23 and don't own a home, you're a loser. I asked what the hell he meant by that in a city where a 1000 square foot house costs - at least - 350k. Man asserted two people can afford that in 5 years if they make at least 35k a year. Asked for his math. He told me go to school. Told him I have an MA. He said I probably didn't have a high school diploma.

"Do I need to photograph it for you, my man?"

Called me spoiled, said I was lazy. Said I got handouts from my parents and the government. My parents don't have the money to help me with shit. Said I pay for "too many subscriptions" and "iced lattes". Told him to check my bank statement for those because clearly someone's hacked my card if so. Said I probably sit in a dingy basement and play video games instead of work. Said I work 45+ hours at my real job (making something like 45-60k a year, depending) and make about $200-$400 extra per month in art sales. Dude told me art isn't a job. Said I'd like to know where the money from it comes from then. Mans told me I don't understand the economy or what it's like being poor, so I said I grew up in a crack house which often had no power and seldom had food, that he obviously comes from a well off family because no one who comes from nothing treats the poor like he was. He called me a twat. I awarded him the Cuntiest Cunt title, man blocked me.

Imagine going into a comments section about how homelessness is on the rise because people with professional jobs can't afford housing, let alone service workers and the like, and pretending to be Andrew Tate because you happen to be in the minority of people who can afford a house here. The audacity. I hope someone younger and hotter spirits his wife away and he shoots himself in the head, legitimately. Can't stand arrogant morons acting as if they have the secret, but unwilling to share and calling everyone lazy because they don't know his secret (which is use daddy's money in everything).

[rametarin]

tempting.

Reflecting on my health issues, since age 17. And my living situation.

So since around the age of 16, I’ve been plagued with unpredictable bowel problems and digestive ills. Like, everybody gets constipated every now and then, but I mean I’d get just, excruciatingly backed up and my family wouldn’t help me get seen or anything.

Basically from the time I was 18 onwards I was told my medical bills were mine. But oh by the way [Ram. Not my real name, but the name fam calls me], you gotta pay us every dollar that isn’t devoted to keeping yourself alive :^)

I’d be like, family, I cannot afford this, it’d be in your best interests to invest in my health so I can figure out what’s fucky about my bowels and stomach so this can stop happening, I can live a normal life, and we can all continue on our merry way.

Basically I was told, “tough shit, do it yourself, also pay your fair share to The Family” (aka, give mom all your money.)

It was never just fear of homelessness, but fear of homelessness while my GI tract was fucky and my teeth were rotting out of my head that made escape from here impossible. It’s why I didn’t just climb into a hole in the wall and escape this garbage fire of a mother and do that bootstrap shit. Because it sincerely made  me wonder sometimes if I was being poisoned by my mother to keep me powerless and in need of help, but perpetually weakened to where the best I could do is move towards help but just be put on a treadmill for someone elses financial benefit.

Perhaps my bitterness makes just a touch more sense now, right? Because Maine is a long-drive state. You need a car. You absolutely need a car to get anywhere. Not having one means you walk everywhere, you ride a bike everywhere and are FUCKED during the winter, or you go nowhere because you don’t have anywhere you need to be and don’t drive.

Now that said, imagine having bowel and ass problems so bad just the idea of driving makes you question if it’s safe for you to even be on the road.

That has been my existence for twenty years now, because my family wants me just close enough to extract what mom things “she’s owed,” but absolutely will not help me with anything. There’s no security in staying here because the whole fucking POINT of putting up with a family’s infantilizing “everything has its place” mentality, is you’re able to wisely squirrel away your income without paying a landlord anything and your income going up in smoke

If your mother is just the worst sort of landlord, you’re basically just paying a narcissistic bitch of a mother to be a narcissistic bitch of a mother. There’s absolutely no upside.

So I’ve been stuck in this virtual tutorial of an existence because my own digestive system was torturing me and seriously deleting my ability to operate independently. And mom, whom has always wanted absolute control over my finances and my future, saw it as a holistic way of penning me up and making be desperate. Never a wasted opportunity with this fucking monster.

Well. I eliminated cottonseed oil and chicken proteins from my diet and, while not perfect, the amount of excruciating pain and pressure and weird cold-acidic burning in my back and bowels has subsided a lot. As well as my stomach issues receded considerably.

The truth is I was loathe to even try and escape without figuring out these problems, but I couldn’t figure them out because I never had the money. I tried to get a barium enema x-ray when I was 17 and suffering a massive, excruciating flareup. I missed prom (I didn’t have anyone to go with anyway) because of what felt like it could’ve been anything from gall stones to bowel cancer.

Had a big useless cleanse that was excruciating, then had the guys that give the barium enema tell me, “lube is expensive” when I screamed about how much it hurt to have the thing shoved up my ass. My already inflamed, tender ass.

Absolutely nothing was found in my bowels. Which did absolutely nothing to explain why they felt inflamed and miserable. But it did give me a $1,700 bill, which proved.. absolutely nothing except they couldn’t find tumors or any object lodged in my butt. Given how it took me two summers to acquire almost that much working a shit job for my shithead father’s girlfriend, maybe you can appreciate how heartbreaking that is. Spending all that money and you don’t even learn WHY you’re suffering, you just learn why you aren’t.

And today I still fume with rage over being told, “ass lube is expensive so we’re skimping on it” and then be charged almost two thousand god damned dollars.

Absolutely could not get my family to help me pursue any other avenue. They just kept insisting, “it’s all anxiety, it’s all in your head. You just need to get off the computer and do more manual labor/make us money and your problems will go away. :^)”

But then they would not help me do it. They wanted me to take on all the risk while they got the guaranteed income from my needing to be around them.

My need to grow step by step was their opportunity to mitigate my life, every step of the way, so non-compliance with their exploitation would result in homelessness and complete uprooting. If I wasn’t going to voluntarily follow draconian rules, then I’d be governed by those rules anyway in the absence of them being verbally stated. Just, using poverty and immobility as a way to impose it.

But I refused to comply. I wasn’t going to suffer every day unendingly AND get my income snatched away, BY MY OWN GOD DAMNED FAMILY. A family that didn’t even pay RENT to live in the house we were living in at the time, and a family that made 65-70K a year, with another house they owned in a less convenient location worth $350K. My mother had ABSOLUTELY NO BUSINESS other than fun and profit as an excuse as to why I needed to buy, “the family,” a car. Other than making it the “family” car giving her defacto control over it but my obligation to pay for it. Just another indirect way to give her absolute control over my options and alternatives.

So I didn’t work. I sat at home and dealt with her abusive bullshit, because it was the only card I had left in my deck. She didn’t want the stigma of throwing out a sick man without a license, a car or any savings. I didn’t want to voluntarily throw myself out and die in the street.

So I dealt with my health problems as best as I could. There were a good many times living in this house, that we’ve lived in and she’s owned since 2006, that I questioned whether I should phone an ambulance and just say fuck it, go into tens of thousands of dollars of debt just goosechasing this problem, thanks to the backdoor socialized medical system that exploits the profit motive but uses government assured payment fixed to taxes in order to afford it.

That’s probably what pisses me off the most about my situation. Our medical system has been turned into a farce by socialists deliberately making medicine as toxic as they fucking can in order to then bat their eyes and go, “Bet you just want single payer and to basically make medicine another ring of the government NOW, don’t youuuuuu? It’d make all those woes go awayyyyy!” while turning the screws to our bodies by denying us affordable medicine. All while blaming capitalism for shit that’s assured to work at any cost by the government.

Other people pine for a more socialized system to make the disgusting exploitation and abuse stop. But the truth is, that’s just like wanting to marry a pirate so they’ll stop lobbing cannonballs and demanding tolls at sea from you. Yes, the actual literal war on you and your community and your personal sovereignty will be over, but you’ll also be institutionalizing pirates in order to make them stop taking complete advantage of you on their terms instead of taking complete advantage of you on mostly-their terms but you get to act like you’re consenting to it.

I digressed. Anyway...

Well. I’m curious about pursuing a shit job just to see if I can KEEP some income, but I know, and have always known, my mother will not allow me to do anything with that money but barely keep myself alive. While she uses it to just buy enormous bulk loads of garbage and hoards them in the corners, or throws hundreds of dollars at friends-of-the-family/neighbors and extracts that money from me to do it.

I know going into it that the job would be otherwise worthless. She wants her ten pounds of flesh a year from me, and if I worked, there’d be no getting around it. She isn’t going to allow me to profit living with her, in any way. Everything has to revolve around her, or I get made homeless.

But trying to hold a job would mean possible (there’s that ‘potential vs. guarantee dichotomy again) feelers out to couches to surf on. Or credit building.

It’d still be a sexless existence dictated by someone so fucking petty that they can’t help you fix a broken tooth but do miraculously have the money to buy you a cell phone and a plan, “if you want it,” purely to always have you at their beck and call and/or have control over your phone plan. And it’d mean committing to something that runs a minimum of a year while being able to have a foot crushing my neck and destroying whatever I’m trying to do in an instant.

but it’d also mean being able to financially pursue what’s wrong with me and fixing it.

But I will hold this grudge against women and the actual, objective privilege they have from the legal system and our social system in the US for the rest of my life. Everybody around me saw what she was doing to me and my life, and they’ve done and said absolutely nothing. An abusive woman in this society is basically on par with the richest barons in a young adult novel, and all you have to do to get that kind of institutional power, rich or poor, is have a vagina and be a mom.

Then other women will sympathize with the mother, whom can never be totally wrong about anything, and at best you might get silence and indifference about the way you’re treated.

You can be cornered, debased and neglected until you’re a greasy shoggoth of a person, and if it’s a woman doing this to you, it’s your fault for not escaping. After having every escape route made as torturous and unsustainable an option as possible, you’ll be held accountable for yourself.

I’ll be relieved and pleased when this disgusting pig of a woman dies of natural causes. She’ll have gotten away with grabbing my life and thrashing around with it for 20 years while the world passed me by, just to keep control, just for fun, just for profit.

But in the meantime, maybe there’s a local niche I can fill. Just enough of something to find somewhere else to live. Without conditions making it more damning to pursue than nothing at all.

But I’m not hoping too hard.