Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

I am not supposed to talk about any of my lawsuits (all civil matters) so I want to talk about my life, my day to day life as a person with multiple civil lawsuits she can’t discuss. And multiple disabilities.

After six months of homelessness (couch surfing), I returned to my home of 20 years in March 2024. Almost a full year. My spouse and I have separate rooms, we prepare and eat separate meals, we lead separate lives except for the typical housemate type matters. The courts say we have equal occupancy rights, so we have to make it work. For the most part, it does.

I love having my own room. I set the comfort level for disarray, I pick the furnishings, I can toss and turn away without disturbing anyone except the cats, who typically flee. I am comfortable, occasionally happy. It is small, but I hope to create more space in the finished attic to address that.

Never do I get tired of being reunited with my cats, including the residents and the community cats at the colony. They come and go at their own whim. When I feed them breakfast and supper, they flock to me. After breakfast, they settle around me while I drink coffee, watch General Hospital, and work on my laptop. When I go to my attic refuge, they follow. We play with the laser pointer. They play with their interactive feeding games while I relax nearby. We have a routine.

Sometimes they disappear entirely for hours, making me wonder about a possible plot to overthrow the humans.

I do not have access to a car. I also have significant trauma about riding with strangers such as ride shares. This is a result of the trauma of being unnecessarily handcuffed and fastened into a police car. I am anxious about riding with strangers. I am anxious about any exposure to the police. The severity of my anxiety waxes and wanes.

Carrying those traumas for 18 months has taken a toll on me. I work on processing them in therapy, but there’s so much to process already. Sometimes I wonder what I would do if faced with a true need to call 911 and the police. I’d like to think I could do what was necessary. But I don’t know. It is terrible.

I have to either arrange a ride to pick up groceries or have them delivered for an additional $17, plus tip. A friend graciously provided me food on a weekly basis from her cafe for several months, a kindness that eased my life on multiple levels. I do cook, but tend to eat a lot of sandwiches and canned soups with a side of Greek yogurt. Casseroles always welcome.

I also need rides to get my medication from the pharmacy, to go to the doctor, to run the most basic errands. I did subscribe to ZipCar but it is pricey. Still, we have an upcoming community cat visit to a dentist in Wexford so ZipCar is useful since we’ll have to wait many hours. I also bought an etricycle that I hope willl help once the weather improves.

I’ve never been without a car before. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could use the bus, ride shares, etc. But otherwise I am landlocked and it sucks.

Money is tight. My income is $1500/month from SSDI. I pay a portion of household expenses, buy my groceries, pay for the cat colony expenses. Then there are the blog expenses I pay out of pocket. But it is hard to figure that all out with this other stuff going on. And I have lawyers and legal fees to prepare for. Very deep sigh.

Donations to my GoFundMe have trickled off, a natural occurrence when nothing urgent is happening. Urgency will likely return. I hope the donors will, too, because I cannot fight these battles solo. They are bigger than me.

I work very hard to stay connected to friends. I go to lunch regularly with a few, talk on the phone often with others. Lots of texting and DM. I go out to things because that is healthy and good for me, even if I feel social anxiety. I was telling my new therapist about my support system and listed them off. She told me it was amazing I had so many active friendships reaching back to my childhood, high school, college, graduate school, and adulthood. I was surprised how many people I had, too. They came and surrounded me like a fortress of love and support.

Oh, therapy. I go to therapy three times each week. I have two therapists – one for trauma and one for primary care. That’s a lot of therapy, right? But it keeps me going. And really there aren’t many alternatives. I don’t need the level of support of day programs. IOP programs are crisis models. So three therapy sessions it is.

Finding the second therapist was tricky because they had to be Medicare approved. I have spousal primary insurance, but don’t know how long that will be the case – best case scenario is until retirement. So I planned ahead and discovered a hellhole that is Medicare approving therapists. It is a bureacratic nightmare. Medicare and Medicaid both reimburse at higher rates than private insurance, but their eligibility process is horrible. I’m also lining up my other healthcare providers to ensure they accept Medicare.

Word of advice – if you are in therapy, ask about Medicare coverage now.

I am 54 and it is not too early to do this work.

My energy level is low to moderate because I am constantly processing trauma, old and new. I need a lot of naps. I need recovery days if I’m busy. I need accommodation. Hydration is important.

Housework. I clean the kitchen and bathroom, but not well enough. I do laundry. I keep the sofa covers straight. Each day, I unload/reload the dishwasher. I try to do more, but it is hard. Oh, I do scoop litter and change cat bedding. For other tasks, I have to plan for larger tasks – I break down cleaning the kitchen and bathroom across multiple days.

I don’t mind essentially living alone. Having a housemate is actually preferable, but … what I don’t have are many options. I can’t even consider housing options because I don’t know my eventual income. And where would I go? What about my cats – both resident and the colony? Why would I have to leave my home of 20+ years? Those are questions I can’t resolve right now.

Programs. People have a very misguided understanding of social service programs. They also always underestimate my familiarity with those programs even though I have a MSW and a lot of years in the field. I’ve got a handle on programs. What’s exhausting is having to explain over and over again. I describe navigating all of this – programs, SSDI, Medicare, food – these are poverty skills. They are powerful tools that require significant smarts.

Sometimes I am confident, sometimes scared. Why is this happening? How did so many institutions fail me, long before the 2024 Presidential election? What will be the consequences of my cases in setting precedents for other LGBTQ+ folx and people with mental health disabilities?

Lately, I think quite a bit about people who experience similar trauma. Being deprived of your liberty for an involuntary civil commitment is necessary sometimes, but traumatic always. Being handcuffed with your hands behind your back and guided to a police cruiser is just awful. Knowing it is unwarranted doesn’t help lessen the anxiety and fear. I’ve never been handcuffed before.

There are people who experience these traumas every single day, some multiple times through no fault of their own. It is a humbling reminder that the ‘defund police’ movement has my back along with all people with MH disabilities. If you think that can’t happen to you, you are a fool. It absolutely can. I cannot begin to imagine how people who are detained, cuffed, have a weapon pulled, threatened with detention, and worse cope. It is not the same because even as it happened, I was well aware that my whiteness was a layer of protection from an even worse outcome.

I don’t know what will happen in two weeks or two months. Of course, I have legal plans and strategies, but they aren’t set in stone. I don’t even really know what I want to happen. Like no one ever asked me or gave me an opportunity to speak for myself. I can say I want some peace of mind. I want to live in my home or something equally comfortable. I want my cats to be safe and I want to be with them. I want my life back, but that’s not possible.

I’m at so many degrees of disadvantage, it is laughable – financial, power, transportation, health care, trauma, disability, etc. But I did get myself home last March and that wasn’t on anyone’s bingo card. So who knows what else I can do?

Being underestimated seems to be my superpower.