This Space For Rant

I am burned out and beginning to have a very real total mental meltdown. I just cannot escape what has become of my life. And I know that it doesn't fucking matter to anyone save for the people who are slowly and painfully asphyxiating me, and to them it is only a concern because they won't be able to use me for their needs.

So, what the Hell do I mean?

Let's begin with the average day; actually, let's use today as an example of what an easy day is.

Today, I was woke from my slumber by a knock on the door. It wasn't the first time, though, since I was up all night because of the partying pothead kids in 108 and the guy who is always running a Sawzall in the middle of the night in 104. Luckily, I didn't get 52 drunk texts from this woman who always wants a cigarette/joint/food/sex/whatever, but let's just say that it's the norm.

Okay, so back to the knock. It was my neighbour and he had Silent Sam for breakfast for the 40th YEAR in a row. He wanted rolling papers, which I generally do not have. This would be a petit irritation, save for the fact that he has made the SAME BLOODY REQUEST EACH AND EVERY DAY for the last several consecutive months. Yes, I'm serious. Luckily, unlike most days, he did not proceed to pour himself a shot of Vitamin V, sit down, and bitch in his Russian/Polish/English hybrid about how everyone in the building is a teutonic buffoon.

Next, we have another one. "Are you busy?". I respond that I have to call my endocrinologist, research things, pick up a prescription, mail parcels, and possibly eat. He sticks around anyways for about an hour.

Following this, we have another person, who is in clear mental distress. I usually receive 2 to 3 of these individuals per day, despite the fact that I am not a psychiatrist or even anything remotely close to one. He proceeds to park himself and repeat his depressing tale for hours. I have still not called Dr. Moldoveanu, nor consumed any calories thus far, but still listen patiently because I don't want this kid to think I don't care.

I eventually assert myself so I can have a shower and a bite to eat. It was the second time I had done so, but he finally did leave to phone the psych nurse I had referred him to hours before. It is now after 3 in the afternoon. As I step out of the shower, another knock. It's distressed boy again. My door is locked but he stands there until barely-clothed me answers. He proceeds to usher himself in and begins speaking, all while it is obvious that I am trying to clothe and groom myself suitably for exiting my domicile. Repeat of earlier occurs. It is now 4:05.

I arrive at the pharmacy to discover that they will not give me syringes without an additional scrip. This is fine, the pharmacist seems fresh out of school and I understand where he's coming from. The problem: it is now 4:35 and I can't get to a clinic, so I have to wait until tomorrow to get my shot. Bloody lovely.

I arrive at my building and a drunk guy shouts out that he needs to speak to me, but I procrastinate on that for a bit. He was drunk and I apparently had new stressors to encounter. I call my mum from the payphone to request that she return my cellphone, which I loaned her for a trip on Friday. My stepdad answers, and like every other day of his life, he is heavily intoxicated. While waiting for my mum to pick up, he makes a bunch of snide comments, and I'll admit that I kind of lost it on my mum. I'm plumb tired of him and she knows this, besides, she's also drunk and cannot return the phone, nor is her place safe for me to go to because her husband is a violent bastard who loves to try to beat on me when he knows Elaine won't remember.

I did lose my shit a bit after this, mainly at the social worker/babysitter whose actual JOB it is to listen to the troubles of all of the dipshits who bang down my door. She doesn't seem to comprehend this fact, so I leave. As I'm leaving, I am encountered by distressed boy, who wants someone to go walk and listen to him again. Regrettably, I had to decline due to the fact that I am near tears. Between today and the numerous months of multiple daily drunks, depressives, schizophrenics, nymphomaniacs, online bullies, junkies, and mooches,  I have just about cooked my cerebral contents.

Then, Drunk Yeller appears and decides to tell me about how much he thinks of me (which is positive, I think) repeatedly and begins a yarn about his Costa Rican drug operations in the early 80s and his time in the various penal institutions he's occupied. It's just as boring as it sounds, so I'll leave it at that. I have obviously escaped, since I am now typing this, albeit with some tentativeness due to the probability of new annoyances. Oh, I've also managed to get absolutely zero work done today.

The fact is, that while I'm dealing with everyone else's everything, I still have my own stresses. I have an alcoholic idiot stepdad and an enabling mother, a dad that I have no idea how to communicate with because he was an addict for the first 34 years of my life, work I have to do, work I want to do, friends, dreams,  and a fucking life, dammit. Oh yes, I'm also physically disabled, mentally ill, and transitioning. I may just have a bit on my plate as well, and it usually isn't edible.

But nobody really gives a flying fuck about any of this because they are suffering. My door is knocked on at all hours by all manner of people, usually drunk, in a massive meltdown, or both; expecting help from me because the social health system has let them down. Each and every one of them need to feel like someone cares, and I really do, albeit probably too much. It's really difficult for me to say no to everyone, or even one individual, but I'm exhausted and it's taking its toll on me in a vast variety of ways. I always look tired, I'm becoming physically worn down, I'm getting depressed, my eating patterns are going to shit, and my creativity has gone to Mars. My boss thinks I'm this brilliant person, but I'm starting to loathe exiting my bed because of the inevitable...

..."Hey, can I have a minute?"