Recession Indicators and my own #metoo

My most humane moments in college were in a cubical stacked with books on economic and wartime history of the late 20th century, and a young professor who patiently attempted to teach me as his narcissist of a collegue milked me for material they could use in their own papers and lectures.

(The #Metoo movement is uncomfortable for me, I was never sexually exploited…then again is a fountain of academic papers exploited when plagarized if the author is to nïave to know better?)

This friend helped me live through a great deal, regrettably , cycles of flashbacks create a wall of trauma between myself and people I met while I was injured for periods of time.

For my own well being, I have learned to ride the waves of these cycles until they pass… My constitution score is deplorable but I have high hit points somehow. (I also have tachycardia and hypOTension, my existence is stacked file folders of contradictions)

So anyway, I am getting healthier, but not fast enough. I am fighting through constant brain fog induced by migraine medications and physical pain is often a steep cliff to climb.

However, I cannot ignore every economic indicator present for the wave of economic recession crashes publically. In my hysterical younger existence I still retained at least some of my education in Political Science.

It has already begun in my state with tent cities hidden within our major cities, the uptick on prices on groceries and fuels, and the enormous debt burdens carried by our friends and aquaintances from student loans, medical expenses, and failing health.

I am only 36 years old, I have friends in Europe and Australia who recieve exemplary preventative care and easy access to necessary medications and surgeries. Sometimes, I wonder if doctors of countries with better healthcare look at us as if we are still hacking away at our surgery patients like The Barber Of Seville, repleat with fast food ‘meat’ pies. Or perhaps treating our patients with leaches and opium (not far from the truth) instead of proper, modern healthcare.

Of course, there are exceptions… but I live locally and I am very selective of the topics of world news I focus on. Primarily, corperate personhood and the devaluation of the individual as a commodity in our current economic structure.

The problems are to broad of a scope for me to delineate. It is a situation I look at in the same manner people approach the grand canyon: “A great big orange hole in the ground” Describes both technically yet incompletely.

Often lately, I find myself feeling the impulse to emigrate out of this state or even this country. I am investing in my physical home in home and property improvements as much as my health allows.

I literally feel nervous we do not own egg laying chickens yet. This is anxiety I doubt anyone not-ridiculous experiences seriously… but as always, I am a self parody of a real human being. I can write as elegantly and eloquently as I can, however there is zero market for editorials without connections or nor journalism written free of propoganda for whomever pays or promises increases of standard if living, ergo, quality of life.

Regardless, somewhere…I am among someone’s favorite writers, even if it is just one person.

I try hard to hope that person or persons are not creepy people who have harmed me…but instead are decent people with good hearts. Sadly, I do not choose my small readership, you choose to read mevout if interest, curiosity, voyeurism, or obsession.

And I should not stop writing because I feel intimidated that people who intentionally, deliberately, and criminally harmed me and likely others read what I write along with kind strangers and friends.

My life is okay- my anxieties are global economic disaster and stalkers.

If you KNOW you are not welcome in my life… just know that I hate you specifically for causing writer’s anxiety. Generally, you would know if you are a stalker if you are rather certain I would call the police if you attempt contact me:)

Sometimes, when I think of all the people who have pursued contact with me after I state I wish no further contact, it feels like being buried in concrete. A relative who beat me, a handfull of ‘niceguys’ who can’t understand ‘no’, a guy who wrote a chapter in his book about ‘bringing me to Jesus’, a couple of ex-lovers, and two people who may actually be murderers.

My social anxiety is valid. My husband protects me and scares off these predators. My problem with #metoo is it doesn’t count abuse by women to women. Also, I hate hate hate the word ‘victim’.

I hate seeing it. It is like a scarlet letter that marks a person in an invisible fashion that is only visible to other abusers, it then deforms all life into social phobia and agoraphobia.

Not everyone has been stalked, threaten, or harmed by others. It isn’t glamorous, and it happens because the individual harmed often is lured into traps of feeling empathetic towards people who give the appearances of living through similar experiences or trying to seek help and the person offering a hand has ulterior motives.

In realising I am a horrendously terrible judge of character… and the current geopolitical climate has created nothing but the radicals and those who are just dropping from all social media as they are able… I am the latter.

Did an event cause this? Yes. I found out an ex was under alias as a fb ‘friend’ who sought me out via this blog.

I cannot emphasise this enough: go away. Do not comment, do not create a reaction blog. I delete stalker comments, I don’t read what anyone writes about me or whatever. I don’t even own a single book where I am mentioned, noreven read them. I fucking hide.

I write because if I don’t when I feel the need to, it affects my mental health extremely adversely.

But sometimes it helps other people as well… that makes it not so bad.

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