If I get to tell the young kids thirty years from now about how I spent the Pandemic and Great Reset, I’m so going all George Patton inspiration speech the day before D Day on this shit. I hope you find the humor in it.
I will be able to tell my hypothetical grandkids that, “Well, your grandpappy survived the pandemic and the Great Reset of the 2010s and 2020s without getting so much as a sniffle. I was also a part of a resistance to the rising tides of authoritarianism that was rampant among his family, neighbors, and friends in Red State America. I actually convinced a few of the insanity of their ways and got them freed of the MAGA cult.”
“Grandpa also ran errands for disabled shut in neighbors while making a small profit on Robin Hood with my stimulus money. I was a fan of Wall Street bets and a Diamond Hands crazy son of a bitch named Roaring Kitty. I was a small part of the Apes and Wall Street bets and Dumb Money who helped bring down a few shady hedge fund managers and made themselves a few bucks in the process. Nothing like using the free market itself to punish the worst abusers of said free market.”
“Grandpa also survived heart failure, lost over170 pounds, moved out of rural Nebraska (yes, Grandpa was part of the ‘rural flight’ migration to urban areas) to the greener pastures and red dirt of Oklahoma City. I had some really cool friends, and actually started turning a profit with his crazy son of a bitch mad man rants.”
I won’t have to say, “Well, your granddaddy pissed away a golden opportunity to reinvent himself during the covid pandemic and Great Reset.”
Obviously, it’s not as cool as surviving the Dust Bowl and bringing down fascists and tyrants in Nazi Germany and Imperialist Japan. But I guess it’ll have to do for us “middle children of history.”
This week has been more frustrating than usual. Physically I’m doing well enough that I don’t need as many otc pain pills anymore. I sleep in my bed most nights. I’m getting more mobile. My swelling is almost gone. I never thought I’d be thrilled to be able to comfortably wear pants all day again.
So, what’s the problem you may ask. With my newfound renewed health, continuing mental stability, etc., I’m also finding I’m having a healthier desire for my freedom and independence again. In short, I’m outgrowing living in my parents’ guest wing.
I guess it was only a matter of time before this happened. I outgrew the long-term care facility in Nebraska I checked myself into back in May 2022 after only eight months.
But in those eight months, I lost over 90 pounds, got my wheelchair, got my heart issues stabilized, graduated physical therapy, had a few nurses and staff members flirt with me, and lost most of my fear of death. Not many people in their early 40s can claim they no longer have much fear of death.
Now, I love my parents. I appreciate the fact they let me live with them here in the suburbs of Oklahoma City for the last year while I got my Medicaid transferred across state lines more than words can say.
But now that things have stabilized, my wheelchair is officially paid off, and my finances are back in order, I think I’m hearing the siren cry of desiring my independence again. I guess I’m like the wounded bird whose been nursed back to health desiring to fly again or the domestic wolf hearing the call of the wild and knowing deep down that’s where he truly belongs.
I’m still on the waiting list for low-income housing in Oklahoma City. I’ve been disqualified from slightly over half of their complexes because I’m not a senior citizen. One place would have taken me except they can’t accommodate my needs (wheelchair, handicap accessible, ideally ground floor, etc.).
I’m starting to feel the old frustrations again, like I felt in the final couple months in long term care and when I was fighting my heart failure alone back in Nebraska during the pandemic. It is a frustrating feeling to know I’m doing my job but I’m not making as much progress as I could because others keep dropping the ball.
As far as going to long term care, I probably would have never had to done that in the first place had I been able to buy a wheelchair back in 2019. That’s when my mobility issues begin. My doctors in Nebraska knew I had mobility problems; my apartment complex knew I had serious mobility issues. Hell, even my family knew I had serious issues.
No one offered to help. Since I made less than 1000 dollars a month from all sources, I couldn’t afford a wheelchair on my own. Hell, I thought you needed a prescription to even buy own with your own money a few years ago. Damn gate keepers.
All it would have taken was a wheelchair heavy duty enough to support me. I could have made many of my doctors’ appointments with a wheelchair as we had handicap accessible public transit buses in my old hometown. Yet, no one bothered to listen to my problems. Hell, I’ve even had friends tell me I’m lucky to be on disability and not have to work. With friends like that, who needs enemies?
During the pandemic, I looked at wheelchairs on Amazon. Probably could have afforded one with my stimulus money. But supply chain problems were a serious issue back in those days. Hell, sometimes I couldn’t even get sanitizing wipes, masks, or even ground beef.
2020 was only four years ago, yet it seems like most people purposely block 2020 and 2021 out. I think our entire world has a collective case of PTSD from the covid pandemic and still hasn’t come to terms with millions of people dying from covid and life in general being completely disrupted. Now that we got wars going on all over the world, add those to the mix.
After a few years of struggles, I’m mostly recovered. The only thing I need now is a handicap accessible apartment. That’s the last hurdle. Even though my parents’ house has no stairs, it’s not handicap accessible. All the doors and hallways are too narrow. And my parents absolutely love to have little Knick knacks all over the house as decorations. Personally, I think of them as clutter that looks grotesque. But, since my name is not on the house’s deed, I get no say in things like that.
If I sound frosty, it’s because I’ve been overcoming challenges for a few years now and not seeing any acknowledgement from anyone who could make the last mile of the journey possible. When I first moved down to Oklahoma in February 2023, I was assured I’d have my own place by the end of summer. Here it is one year later, I’m still waiting. Hell, I wasn’t told the process of moving my Medicaid to Oklahoma wouldn’t start until I moved down here until after Christmas 2022. I guess I’ve had to fight for every square inch of ground I’ve gained in the last few years.
It upsets me that I’ve lost over 170 pounds since February 2020, got my mobility issues solved via a wheelchair, got my heart failure treated, been more stable mentally the last four years than most years (haven’t been to a mental hospital since 2013), graduated physical therapy, survived a pandemic without getting sick even once, found out I have an insane talent for picking the stock market, found Medium, and am now getting paid every month for my writings, etc., and I still don’t get much for credit for my accomplishments. Certainly not from anyone who can make my final hurdle of getting my own place possible.
God bless Robinhood, Stash, Coinbase, Wall Street Bets, etc. I love all you crazy bastards. You guys made it possible for millions of not rich people like me to make a few bucks in this worldwide game we call globalized capitalism. By the way, Dumb Money is one of my favorite movies from last year. I liked only Barbie and Oppenheimer even more. Didn’t get in on Game Stop personally but made a couple hundred bucks off Dogecoin before it went sour.
While I am proud for all I’ve accomplished and discovered in the last four or five years, it is frustrating that the people I was forced to trust on these changes haven’t been much help. Throw in a pandemic and hateful politics on top, the last five years have been one hell of an odyssey. No matter, I suppose. All of it, and I mean all of it, is now fair game for my writing.
I can say this now, but I’m actually glad I was fought every inch of the way and still wound up victorious. The bastards may have wanted me to fail and fall through the cracks, but I didn’t. Makes the achievements and the victories all the sweeter in that the people who said they would help more often than not just made shit worse and were blocking the way. No matter. I overcame despite their ineptitude, interference, and general all-around cluelessness. What can I say, on a long enough time scale you can’t keep a good person down.
I have a lot of problems with paranoia and anxiety, especially around other people. I tend to read too much into people’s gestures, facial expressions, tone of voice, body language, choice of words, physical movements, etc. I can also sense the energy of an entire place, whether it’s positive vibes, negative vibes, indifferent, non threatening, etc.
I have vivid dreams, usually about my past and being lost. I also have dreams about conflict, war, the supernatural, and being in different bodies but with my mind.
I want to spend most of my time alone. Sounds are very overwhelming, especially chatter on tv, power tools, getting stuck in traffic.
Romance is impossible. I can’t read exactly what a woman is thinking. I have zero stomach for drama and conflict. I don’t believe that conflict makes relationships stronger. Never have. The few times I was intimate with my long-term girlfriend many years ago, I was just guessing at what she liked, didn’t like, etc. I read too much into unspoken cues to where I pick up several possibilities. It’s like picking up several different tv shows and static on the same channel all at once.
I was diagnosed at age 20 but started having serious problems at age 17. I decided at an early age I would never have children. I feared I would be too chaotic to be a good father and husband.
I also feel all emotions very deeply, including positive emotions. When I am happy, I’m playful and almost euphoric. When I am angry with someone, it is best I avoid them until the feeling is passed. When I get into arguments, I personalize my insults. Meaning, that I intentionally hit them in sensitive subjects and use their exact words against them, even if it was something they said several years ago.
In addition to schizophrenia, I have excellent long-term memory and am quite smart. I scored in the 130s on an IQ test as a kid. I was reading 11th grade level in 4th grade. It was easier making friends with older kids than kids my age. Even my only really good dating relationship was with a woman who was 2 years older than me.
Speaking of my ex-girlfriend, she said I shown her more passion and intensity in the eight months we were together than any other relationship she ever had, including her now failed marriage. I think she misses the passion and romance. I won’t get back with her because I don’t desire marriage and she lives hundreds of miles away.
I’ve found I tend to obsess about topics I take an interest in. I can spend months on end studying topics like investing, geopolitics, history, tech advances, science, astronomy, history of religion, philosophy, poetry, etc. This is too the point I even buy decorations for my house along with what I study. It’s why I own a pirate flag, a flag of Ancient Rome, the Knights Templar, silver coins featuring Aztec art, etc. I’ve also read many of the classics of literature, both Western and Eastern.
What exactly does schizophrenia mean? I experience everything mentally very deeply, both negative and positive. It’s why I live most of my life in my head. The outside world is often too overwhelming when coupled with what’s already going on in my very active mind.
One of my friends just got out of the hospital for seizure treatments.
A friend of mine just got back home from the hospital. She has epilepsy and her seizures are back with a vengeance. First time in several years she’s had seizures. She’s had to miss some work over the last week because of this. On top of that, her husband was recently laid off from his job because his employer lost several key contracts.
I myself am doing well. My swelling is going down. My rashes are all but gone. I’m still getting most of my sleep in the midafternoons. I’m up pretty late most nights. But late nights are good for writing and editing.
Been making a few extra bucks here and there. In addition to writing on Medium, I’m also filling out online surveys. I mean, if internet companies already have my information, I just as well get paid for some of it.
I’m losing weight again. Even though I love cooking for myself, I’ve found that I almost always eat less when someone else is doing my cooking. I’ve found out the hard way that food is my major addiction. I’m far less apt to go back for seconds when I’m not doing the cooking.
Mentally I’m still feeling well. Haven’t had any serious mental issue since last June. I’m even to where I haven’t had auditory hallucinations in several months.
My auditory hallucinations were usually of footsteps in the hallway, inaudible voices I couldn’t see, etc. Fortunately, never had any visual hallucinations. And my auditory hallucinations were always worse during times of great stress and anxiety.
I’ve also not suffering paranoia nearly as much. I used to have paranoia issues for many years. I was often paranoid about getting evicted from my apartment. I was paranoid about upsetting my neighbors. I was paranoid that strangers were watching me at all times. I had paranoias about people listening in on my phone conversations and going through my garbage. I even had paranoias about strangers reading my online bank statements.
Since I now live in the burbs with my elderly family, I really have no fear of being evicted now. First time in ages that I’m fearful of being one bad day away from the streets or prison. And my family is arraigning that, after my elderly parents die, the house will become mine.
Social Security Disability allows recipients of disability pension (like me) to own their own home. Yet, at the same time, they won’t allow recipients to have more the 2,000 dollars in bank savings at any given time. $2000 isn’t enough to cover car repairs, buy most new appliances, or even cover property taxes in some places. In short, Social Security Disability rules on assets for recipients are woefully outdated.
Me. February 2024
Other updates include that, after my parents die, my brother has said he will take over as my Medical Power of Attorney if that is my desire. My brother and I have made amends for the way we were growing up. I guess 23 years of marriage, a career, raising children, and becoming a pillar of the community will change anyone. In my brother’s case, it changed him for the better.
I’m losing weight again. My meals are usually quite simple. Even though I love to cook for myself, my mother usually volunteers to make our meals. I’ve found that if I let others do my cooking, I’m less apt to make massive portions or ask for seconds.
My edema is getting back under control. I’ve been having bad swelling from water retention, mostly in my groin and hips. The swelling was bad enough it made walking difficult. Shortly after I solve the problems of joint pains in my knees and ankles, the edema causes swelling to where I can barely walk. Just another problem to solve.
Been on Lasix for over five weeks to treat the swelling. It definitely works. Doctor has also put me on strict fluid restrictions. Which I would have probably done on my own as it was getting irritating having to go to the bathroom many times a day just from peeing off the existing fluid plus what I was putting in on a daily basis.
My blood work is good. I’m not diabetic. My blood pressure is good. My cholesterol and other readings are excellent. Right now, the big goal is to get rid of the edema and restrengthen my heart.
I quit sleeping in the recliner all night. I still nap in it, but my best sleep comes from sleeping in a traditional bed. My back pain is pretty much as solved as it’s going to get. If I can sit on the side of the bed for a few minutes before I have to get up, I have few problems. I have zero problems if I can get to my walker easily and use it to get down the hall to my “office.”
Me. December 2019
I currently live in a three bedroom, two bath, house in the suburbs of Oklahoma City. I live with my parents, both of whom are in their seventies. I now pay rent as my Social Security Disability Insurance payments have FINALLY settled into something predictable. It feels good to be able to make budgets again.
My financial situation wasn’t the most stable between May 2022 and September 2023. In May 2022, I went to a long-term care facility (at my request). I knew I had far more troubles with my physical health than I could manage on my own, especially since I was also paranoid about getting evicted from my apartment.
The years 2019 to mid 2022 were very stressful for me. And the pandemic made things far worse even though I never caught covid. I treated that time the same way I would have had I gotten sent to war.
Going back to the long term care facility, I had the very long term goal that I was eventually going to get my heart problems straightened out, get my mobility problems treated, and eventually move to Oklahoma City area with the rest of my family. Long story short, my brother came to Oklahoma for engineering school, loved OKC so much he not only never left, but talked the rest of our household to move down here with him, his wife, and their four children.
When I first moved to long term care, I thought it would take at least two years to get my heart and mobility straightened out. I wanted to eventually move to Oklahoma to be with the rest of my family. I remember one of the speakers at my high school graduation back in 1999 saying something like ‘be kind to your relatives. You’ll probably need them more than you can now realize when you get older.
Well, my two years of recovery turned out to need only eight months. It took a couple months to get the heart meds and mobility problems solved. Once the heart was solved, I started physical rehab to rebuild my heart.
I was officially scheduled to do physical therapy three times a week for four months. In addition to my regular therapy, I would go into the therapy room to lift weights and ride recumbent bikes on the weekends. The facility I lived in was a long-term care facility, hospital, physical therapy office, assisted living, all under one roof.
Me. January 2022. Last Day of Physical Therapy
It was also enough of a laid-back place that the nurses didn’t mind me wheeling myself outside to the flower gardens a few times per week as long as I told a nurse where I was going. I even had one of my neighbors in long term care, a 98-year-old retired farmer, who joked that I was ‘faster in a wheelchair than most people on two good feet.’ The staff always celebrated our gains in physical therapy, especially mine.
The food at the facility was good, but the portions were limited. Those limited portions allowed me to lose 90 pounds in those eight months. When I left that facility in February 2023, I was the lightest I had been in ten years. And I was eating homemade staples like turkey and dressing, potato soup, sausages, eggs and bacon, biscuits and gravy, etc. Heck, the staff even allowed me to use their vending machine so I could buy soda pops and Gatorade for myself (as long as I paid for it myself). Few things felt as good as an orange Gatorade after a long physical rehab session.
Obviously, I could have never had this kind of 180-degree recovery without being on Social Security Disability and not wound-up bankrupt. Some may think I abused the system to get healthier, but I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Abused the system? Well, I certainly got more creative than most people in my position would have been.
I had to be crazy to think that going to long term care with the idea of getting well enough and moving to Oklahoma City with the rest of my family was a good idea. But, good ideas are often crazy until they are proven to actually work.
I realized that in the process of taking care of my mental health, I wrecked my physical health. Now that I have my mental health taken care of, I just was well going for getting the physical health back. I just couldn’t allow myself to die wondering ‘what if.’ Sure, the odds were against me, but I couldn’t honorably face my death without knowing that I tried even desperate measures to save my physical health. Turns out, my gamble is starting to pay off. I pulled off my master plan, and in less time than I thought it would take. Hell yes, I am proud of myself for pulling this off.
This essay is going to be about how tech advances can allow for art and literature to be inspired, created, and distributed. The seeds for this essay were planted in an article I read a few days ago that stated that NASA has plans to send humans back to the moon on the Artimes 3 mission in 2027.
Growing up in the 1980s and 1990s, I heard stories about the space race between the USA and USSR back in the 1950s and 1960s from my elders and popular culture. While I was fortunate to see the space shuttle, the Hubble Telescope, and the International Space Station go up, it just didn’t quicken the pulse and ignite the imagination quite like the idea of putting humans on the Moon. In some ways it felt like we were barely moving ahead for decades.
Even though I didn’t come of age with my parents’ space race, I was privileged to come of age during an era of just as great advances. My best friend and I were the among the first families in our little farming village in Nebraska to get dial up internet. Back then, we were so remote, and internet was so new, it was actually a long-distance phone call (remember that b.s.), to get online.
I remember the dial up, the ‘you got mail’, getting emails from the various girls I met at speech meets all over the state as a speech geek in the late 90s, etc. My best friend tried to talk me into getting a Napster account. She also taught me how to find free porn online without picking up a computer virus. I still remember the old Yahoo chatrooms. I had a few false personalities online, because the whole ‘don’t use your real name online’ kind of thing. I still adhere to the whole ‘don’t feed the trolls’ mantra from back then. Pity that one that didn’t go viral once internet went mainstream.
When I was in college in the early 2000s, I remember hearing about the Human Genome Project. I had just enough of a biology background in my college classes to know that this was a big deal. Several years later, my psych doctor had me take a DNA screen to see what psych meds would work best for me. I’m still on the same psych meds ever since that test and haven’t been to a psych ward since 2013.
Same tech allowed me to take an Ancestry.org test, the one where you spit in a few vials and mailed them off to a lab and your ancestry report came back a few weeks later. Found out I’m mostly German, Irish, and British. Have some Spanish, Swedish, and Russian Jewish mixed in for good measure. So glad I got those results and was able to share them with my Grandma Foster shortly before she died in 2015.
Still remember the old Myspace account from the mid 2000s. Kept up with a few old friends, heard some obscure bands, shared some of my early poetry, and tried my hand at some early online games. Like many people of that era, I migrated over to Facebook around 2008 or so. This was before Facebook became social media for senior citizens. Oh, what am I saying? I’m probably a senior citizen now as far as anyone born after 9/11/01 is concerned.
I have a passion for writing and even that was influenced heavily by the tech advances of my era. Originally, I tried to get my writings published with traditional publishers and university presses. Of the first 100 snail mail submissions I did, I received exactly 3 approvals for publishing. To be sure, these weren’t paying publications. An old writer friend of mine told me that getting 3 approvals in the first 100 submissions was actually better than average. Granted this was 15 years ago.
So, I went with a print on demand service for my early poetry, mental illness essays, and my semi-autobiographical novel. The novel was a coming-of-age story loosely based on my college experiences in the late 90s and early 2000s. In short, it was kind of like Jack Kerouac except fewer drugs and less hitchhiking.
My poetry was mostly nature poetry and everyday working-class people type poetry, almost like a modern Carl Sandberg, Robert Frost, etc. Other poets who inspired me included Walt Whitman and Emily Dickenson. I also like some of the Old-World poetry, like Shakespeare’s Sonnets, Dante’s Divine Comedy, some of Rudyard Kipling’s work, etc.
As much as I loved writing poetry in my twenties, I found out that poetry doesn’t pay well. But it was good training for essays and articles, especially the idea of catching a reader’s attention quickly and telling a compelling story.
In my late 20s, I attended a poetry writing workshop hosted by my hometown’s state university where one of the lecturers said, to the effect, that poetry was kind of a ‘protest of death.’ Until then I looked at it as a celebration of life and being human. But I guess celebration of life and protest of death could be seen as opposite sides of the same coin.
Fast forward 15 years to the year 2024. I’m still writing at least some every day. Made some money off my writings. Now that I’m on Medium, I actually make a few bucks every month off my writing. I’m glad that sites like Medium exist. I’d love to find more sites like this. Get the whole ‘multiple streams of income’ thing going with my writing, I guess.
I took this stroll down Memory Lane as a means to illustrate how tech, inspiration, hopes of youth, and art meet. Today I am getting paid every month for writing for an audience on Medium. It’s hardly a fortune, but it’s a lot better than what I was getting all those years of living in low-income housing pounding out blog entries, poems, and ideas for stories when I was in my late 20s and early 30s.
I’m currently in the process of finding some of my old writings. I decided I want to get back into every type of writing I used to do 15 to 20 years ago. I did poetry, novels, essays, blogs, wise quips, etc. I imagine some of my wise sayings might even make some halfway decent memes now.
At the end of 2022, while I was still in Genoa for therapy for heart failure, I made a few goals for the year 2023. One of those goals was to get out of long-term care and move to Oklahoma with the rest of my family. That I accomplished.
I decided I wanted to write more. That I am doing. Moved some of my old material to sites where I actually make a few bucks from my writings. Medium is one of those sites.
I had a third goal of organizing some of my older writings and get ready to have some of them published on Amazon or another such service. The editing is all done. Still considering my options.
One goal I didn’t accomplish was finding my own apartment. But then, I rather enjoy living in the suburbs. While I have made a lot of friends in my online writing groups, they still aren’t the same as getting to see someone in person. Overall, for me, 2023 has been a good year. Been the best year of the 2020s so far. I would definitely go for not going through a pandemic or surviving a near death experience again anytime soon.
New Year’s Eve has long been one of my favorite holidays. As a teenager I went to New Year’s Eve dances all the time with my best friend and her two sisters. The next morning I’d usually binge watch football bowl games while enjoying the last of the Christmas break from high school.
In the mid 2000s, after I moved out on my own, I lived in a small college town. I used to go to the local dive bars as most were hosting live music. Most years I made a point to leave shortly before midnight just to beat the after-midnight crowd and drunk drivers. Gave this tradition up in the mid 2010s as it became obvious that most of my friends had moved on, gotten married, etc.
But New Year’s is still a time for reflections and hope for the new year. I don’t read much about those who say New Year’s Resolutions are a waste of time and effort. So what if they are? It’s still fun to reflect on the past twelve months and make predictions for the next twelve months.
The last several years have been rough for most people. Most of us have changed due to world events and personal struggles. I don’t even recognize the person I was ten years ago. If you were to tell me about the changes and hardships that I would encounter in the next ten years back then, I wouldn’t have believed that I would have survived those changes. Most people have no clue what they are capable of surviving.
Been putting a lot of my writings on Medium for the last couple months. Just got this email notice from them today. In short, I made a few bucks from my blogging on Medium.
Hello Zach Foster!
From November 1 – December 1, 2023, your members only stories on Medium earned a total of $6.96 (USD). Your payment was sent to your connected Stripe account on December 8, 2023, and will automatically transfer to your bank account or debit card on file. This may take up to 5-7 business days.
This is a thank you from Medium and its paying members to you. We greatly appreciate your willingness to share your stories, wisdom, and knowledge with us.
One of my friends works for a trucking company. The company recently announced no raises or bonuses for the next year. And this was before one of their largest clients cancelled their contracts. She’s worried she might be getting laid off within the coming months. I think she has good reason to be worried. Companies have been laying off white collar office workers since the end of the pandemic by the thousands even though they are still profitable. I’m convinced many of these layoffs can be attributed to the rise of cheap automation and AI. Another friend of mine worked for an internet provider in a major metro area during the pandemic. He was classified as an ‘essential worker.’ Caught covid three times, his wife died of ovarian cancer, and he still got laid off (along with his entire department) in spring 2022. My best friend works for a real estate management company, makes decent money, has no student loans, but still can’t afford to rent a one bedroom apartment in her city. She could do much of her job remotely (and wants to move to a cheaper rural area) but her company refuses to play ball with her. Another friend of mine is a teacher in a rural area in the Midwest. He has three small children. Even his house has doubled in value since he and his wife bought back in 2017. This isn’t a fancy suburb, it’s a small farming town. He says most of the available housing is being bought up by well to do retirees from out of state. In some cases, these people just use these places as rentals. Since wages in rural areas are already lower than urban areas, many of the locals can not afford to even rent these houses they could have easily afforded even ten years ago. Many people can’t even afford to be renters, unless they have roommates, second jobs, government assistance, help from family, or all of the above.
Everyone I know is struggling. About the only person my age I know whom isn’t struggling is my brother. He works as an electrical engineer for a defense contractor. He’s in his mid 40s, has a masters’ in business and engineering, and makes really good money. But even he could be subject to getting laid off in favor of a younger and cheaper engineer. His wife works for the same company. It’s possible they could both get laid off at the same time. While engineering jobs are safer than accounting or most office work, there still is no such thing as job security anymore. We are all hired guns these days. Your boss simply does not give a damn about you, how hard you work, how loyal you are, your family, your community, etc. They simply can’t afford to anymore, especially not with the competition being world wide and now including automation, AI, and robots. My parents had to compete with only other Americans. My generation had to compete with the entire world. My nephews’ generation has to compete with the entire world and machines.
Bosses don’t care about workers any more than they are legally obligated to. Never have. Never will. It’s why slavery in it’s various forums was (and still is) so big. Slavery used to be accepted as normal and even legally protected for most of written history. Minimum wage laws became a thing precisely because bosses would pay even lower if they could. And don’t even get me started on company towns and stores. Those are starting to make a comeback in some places. And since much of the work can now be automated, outsourced, etc. to machines, they really can get away with making it obvious they don’t care about workers and their communities.
I have to admit, seeing my friends and family struggle in their early 40s makes me kind of thankful to have schizophrenia. Sure, the paranoia, delusions, hallucinations, depression, and chronic anxiety suck, but at least I have some kind of social security disability pension, easy access to medical care, low-income housing possibilities, etc. The medical treatments may not be top quality, but I’m not going to go bankrupt if I get cancer or have to have a long term stay in a mental hospital.
In some twisted ways developing schizophrenia in my late teens and struggling really bad in my twenties until I qualified for social security disability was a blessing in disguise. Sure, it took me many years to realize it, but I am debt free, child free, never been married or divorced, have some emergency savings, and I get to spend all day every day just expanding my knowledge and learning new skills. In some sick backwards kind of way, I stumbled into my dream life. I always wanted to be a scholar.
I always felt more at home in old libraries, museums, art galleries, writers’ conferences, and educational sites on YouTube then I ever did even in my own house. For me, getting to acquire knowledge is the greatest job I could ever have. It might not pay well, but it has taught me how to live (and acquire some savings) even on disability wages. Sure I’ll never get rich and own a nice house in the burbs, but I don’t want to be a homeowner.
In my case, it’s better to be a renter. I can easily move, if need be, I don’t have to worry about fixing my own toilet, don’t have to mow lawns or shovel snow, have easy access to public transit and Uber services, etc. Besides, does anyone really own their own home outright even if it is completely paid off? Try not paying your property taxes and HOA fees and you will find out pretty damn quick who really is in charge of your castle. In short, I may not have good health, children, a wife, a career, prestige, etc. Yet, I feel more content and at ease with my lot in life than most of my friends and family who do have such things.
Hi! my name is Sebastian (You can call me Seb!) ...welcome to my Blog. I'm a photographer from Worcester, Worcestershire, England. Thanks for dropping by! I hope you enjoy my work.
Hi there, thank you for checking out my blog page where I write about Bipolar, adhd,bpd and ptsd which I struggle with daily. This blog is to both educate and give others hope. I also write about my drug addiction in hopes of giving other people encouragment and hope for a brighter, annd better future.Thank you. sincerly, Emily Thorn.
A Life Of Mental Illness 