Stress Fracture

Women talk about sex all the time.-- Stephanie Verderame's summary of my employment trauma.

Why my body has not exploded from hypertension is not something an investigating physician would concern himself with, because I am trying to do what I once thought miss pixie on her canes capable of doing, fusing a viable link between worlds, though arguably, I am using my literary and corresponding interpretive skills to indict the rhetoric behind the case for community integration, something that Louise my would be acolyte caught, but found  confusing, and as I once wrote, that is fair enough.

I weigh how far I want to wade in the purple, since I am trying to make an effort to be marketable, but, if Linda was the catalyst for my break with the Philadelphia center, my hatred, on the conceptual level, stems from the knowledge that disability centers are no more than decentralized institutional enforcement zones: Instead of putting the broken in one place, which, though sanitary, is cursed with the overpowering odor of ammonia, we get state categorized, and in overwhelming majorities, bitch slapped in the projects; nothing this woman does changes that, either for me, (driving me over to her public housing pizza parlor a long long time ago), or for her followers. If her counter thrust to me after she crashed and burned in England under her own weight was that Liberty wanted me to succeed, I'll believe that when she and other staffers stop breaking the law to further their own agenda, and to practice accountability. If I had had the courage to file with the Philadelphia Human Resources Commission where Thomas Earle now sits, Liberty might be better monitored, and Linda Dezenski, the missionary sociopath, would not be the COO (if I had married and moved to England, maybe that action is a Liberty magic potion: "We hire Cassie back no matter how many times she quits, but we traumatize Joanne with sexual gloating, humiliation, inner city aides who molest, abuse and aggravate her stress because she needs to understand compliance with this way of life is freedom!" Moving into a senior citizens home in the apogee of her adulthood is better than what she did for us running excursions into Inglis House!)

I call it Stalinist. And Old Joe executed many Russians at his convenience. I could not save myself though literary skills and ambition. I could not save myself by modeling Jerry or Michael, oh but what I can do is fight back against this in the last remaining years of my life, and start a movement for Congress to overturn the mandate protection. That direct enough for you, how corrupt and sordid our values are in the early 21st century?

There might be virtue in the argument that I should stop caring. I did not listen to myself when my own instincts told me to back away and pack up shop, and cease trusting this woman. Did I over react to her dominance and rank? Undoubtedly, but the scales were unbalanced in the first place. Linda has the esteem, and mental health benefit, of living in her own home; for nearly 28 years now, I have been chattel in section 811 and section 202 housing, which makes me a second class citizen. We tend to respect those with ownership of private property, and all I wanted from my former family was for them to honor their pledges; instead, Linda's public humiliation of me led to an equally public denigration, and I had served this movement faithfully.  It nearly killed me, and I am certain that others even more powerless have been case managed to death by CIL culture, with the best of intentions. It needs to be stopped, and I will most likely not live long enough to dismantle it, but I must expose it, and at least begin the process of conscientious reform

Like Elizabeth in the heyday of her court, hamstrung by her own insecurities, my inability to assert myself over the system because of a nervous breakdown is saltpeter on my tail feathers. I was told my state representative was leaving office, but saw nothing on her web site to that effect at the time I mailed my template grievance; technically, *all of this,* minus my evidence, is now on public record. Her regional office closes this month. One of her temps suggested city council, a body to which I intend to proceed-- but I do not berate myself internally. My conviction may have cemented late, but it cemented, and I am determined to see movement. Many wheelchair users are helpless, and that is simply a fact, like my grandfather's deterioration from dementia turning into a danger, and I get that, but attendant care only generated more trauma for me, as opposed to what it was supposed to relieve, and the only way to repair that is go after the waiver and its regulations. I will have more to say on this as a policy issue.