No job. No car. No money. No higher education. No way out. No job, no money. No money, no gas or car. No car, no job or school. No higher education, no

12 years

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No job. No car. No money. No higher education. No way out.

No job, no money. No money, no gas or car. No car, no job or school. No higher education, no better paying job.

No money, no meds. No meds, rampant depression and anxiety. No money, no therapist. No therapist, poor coping ability. No money, no doctor. No doctor, no health.

A cyst has been on my breast for 7 months. Daily draining isn’t helping, and I’m not strong enough to slice my skin open and pull out the sac. Constant fatigue, constant exhaustion with life, constant chronic pain.

I overeat with the food that my parents provide because it’s the only thing in my life that I can control. Even then I can’t control it, because I find myself eating without remembering having made or gotten the food. I just eat on autopilot. I’m obese. I’ve tried purging, it’s too disgusting. I’ve tried just not eating, I’m too weak-willed.

I smoke because every time I try to stop it fails. I’m weak. I can barely last a few hours before I’m scrounging in the neighbors’ outdoor ashtrays for smokable butts. I’ve smoked half cigarettes found in ashtrays outside of convenience stores before. I’ve sat outside at a convenience store bumming cigarettes off of passers-by.

I dumpster dive to get items that I wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford. I have no problem going through someone’s trash bag when I see something in it I want.

I am not clean. I don’t take care of myself. I don’t see the point. I have no job, no school, nobody comes over, just me, my roommates who have already seen me at my worst and can somehow manage to deal with it, and once a week my step-dad to take me grocery shopping. I wash my clothes maybe once every 3 months, when I can round up the energy. I take a bath maybe once every two weeks. I know my cyst and the plethora of pimples I get each week is caused by my lack of hygiene, just like the staph infection I had 2 months ago was. I can’t seem to make myself care.

If I weren’t so scared of blinking out of existence upon death and hurting my mom, I’d have killed myself already.

New Confession

It’s a official!

The Toronto District Catholic School Board verified with me that Sister Marie Howorth had no fuc kin right in holy hell to ask me the question,

“Now Carm, your father died, was that sudden?”

My father’s death was simply none of Sister Marie Howorth’s dam business. It’s my privacy and it’s my grief (mind you it’s difficult to grieve a man that called my mother an ugly warthog).

According to the Toronto District Catholic School Board,

“If you didn’t disclose to Sister Marie that your father died, she should have asked about him.”

The Toronto District Catholic School Board has verified with me that Sister Marie ,

“Did not handle my situation well.”

And the former Deputy Director of the M.S.S.B had not right to ask Sister Marie nor my guidance counselor to talk to me about my dead father.

I am human and I am allowed to be touched by stories about young people who die tragically.

I am allowed to be touched by “Jane” and I am allowed to say that she influenced by life in a positive way, leading me to friendships that led me to work in the North.

The M.S.S.B Deputy Director had every right to be offended by me. I regret …I fuc kin regret contacting him….But I wish he could have told me to just stop contacting him and his family instead of sending Sister Marie Howorth to psychologically torture me….

F*** YOU Sister Marie Howorth! The school board takes my life! Forcing a conversation about the nature of my dad’ s death DOES NOT SHOW THE LIGHT OF CHRIST! Far from it! It’s completely depraved of compassion!

F*** YOU Judy Wright if you feel your Sister Mare Howorth had a right to ask me invasive questions about my father’s death, cause the school board TAKES MY SIDE. AND F*** YOUR UNCLE as his son was caught stealing VCRs at the Honeydale Walmart, as noted in the March 1999 Etobicoke Life paper!!!

SISTER MARIE HOWORTH HAD NO FUC KIN RIGHT TO ASK ME PRIVATE QUESTIONS ABOUT MY FATHER’S DEATH…SHE HAD NO F*** IN RIGHT TO PRY INTO MY PERSONAL TRUAMA….I’ll scream that on a mountain top if I have to!

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