I’m not sure where to start with this post, so I’ll just put the basics and let the rest fall into place.
I moved to New York from Virginia about 7 months ago without much more than a few hundred dollars to my name and enough clothes to last a few weeks. My main goal was to survive, but I figured anything was better than the reality I was living where I was before.
I’ve worked my ass off. Odd jobs here and there. Temporary. Part-time work. Everything. Just to get to where I am today. I have been scammed, followed, threatened, sexually assaulted you name it - all along the way. I didn’t need medication. I was invincible. Doing everything my alcoholic, abusive mother told me I’d never be able to do.
Unfortunately, being resilient can wear off after a while. My health took a dive and my depression and anxiety took over. I was exhausted every day, not knowing that I hovered near deadly iron levels. I simply thought it was my body’s response to being dragged around the city all the time. Flash forward through months of scraping it by and and I’m looking over the side of the George Washington Bridge because I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t.
That was a month ago yesterday, after spending all of May in an inpatient mental illness facility in Westchester, NY. I just got out of what was probably the most trying time (physically and emotionally) in my life. I had to come to terms with this hard truth while I was there: I need to learn to ask for help.
So that’s what I’m doing now. Before I was transported to that hospital, I was due to pay my rent on a new sublet that I’d moved into, but I obviously didn’t get to that day. A month of not working and medical expenses on top of that and I’m sitting on top of a heap of angry roommates and medications that need to be bought and filled regularly and roughly $11 at the moment.
At this point in time I can’t be homeless AND aggressively working on my my mental illness (I’ll be attending partial hospitalization programs for the next two weeks). My life is drastically different on a mental standpoint, but it still needs help. I still need help. It will be an ongoing battle until I’m back on my feet again and now spending my last few dollars on “an outfit to die in” like I did that day.
I am incredibly grateful to have succumbed to getting the help I knew I needed, but it is only the beginning. The people I met while hospitalized will change my life forever (Alesia - whom I’ve admired for some time for similar struggles- and her father showed me an amount of kindness I had yet to experience in my life), but at this point I am still a family of 1. I am estranged from all of my family (as many of them are from each other) and had no friends in NYC until I started my hospitalization.
Until I can snag a job, I need to get started on paying my rent, paying for my meds, and transportation to/from the partial hospitalization program and hematologist appointments I have. If you are willing to help, you can do so here via PayPal . The email is firstname.lastname@example.org.
I’d also love some words of encouragement. I’ve spent so long doing everything by myself, that I forget that other people are out there.