Thursday 23 July 2015

Stranger Than Fiction, 21

Ah, the iconic year, 2001.  We were recovering the Summer of Love, or so it seemed.  We could see the New Jerusalem almost at our doorstep.  There was a general feeling that we were moving forward, that we were becoming a gentler, wiser, humbler and more loving people.  Love and light infused the late summer air like warm golden honey.  It all came to an abrupt and discourteous end on September 11 when the passenger jets crashed into the World Trade towers and we suddenly cowered under threat of Armageddon. 

This was just after a right wing government was voted into power in my province, buoyed on promises of kicking people off welfare and swelling our street homeless population.  When I had a nightmare of a young blonde SS officer trying to kidnap me in his car, I knew I was in danger and that I faced again homelessness and likely street homelessness should they not be satisfied with my job search.

Meanwhile we all lived in a shadow of fear: fear of Islamic terrorism, fear of war, fear of our own governments, fear of the Bush Administration in Washington.  I think that almost everyone was a little bit traumatized.

My welfare worker, a rather nasty piece of work, turned into an abusive power hungry cow.  When she threatened me under the mistaken assumption that I wasn't pulling my weight in my job search I stood up to her, called her a bully and effectively fired her, then met with her supervisor who backed me up and changed my category.  I was transferred to a different office and a new worker.  They were going to leave me alone and allow me to collect welfare in peace while I made the necessary steps to go on disability.

Thanksgiving Day I saw my father for the last time.  He refused to see me at Christmas.  I knew then that that was the end and despite my hatred for him I also loved him and the sense of loss plunged me into another, and I believe my final, breakdown.

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