Where Things Are Now.

Like I've said, I went to St. Scholastica grade school in Detroit 1975-82. And they tried early on to teach me important moral lessons. Actually one of the first ones involves passing notes. Or a plan my alleged best friend Tommy Emerick and I had for talking during class. Plan A, plan B, etc. And when my teacher Mr. Stofer found out about it, she public humiliated me in class and told me I was an evil person. She told me she thought I was a good person. But after hearing about this, she guessed she was wrong. Then when I fat shamed Tommy's friend Jamie Kivela on the playground in the 6th grade, he insult and hurt me by calling me ugly. At one point he and Kendal Tucker were taunting me and calling me ugly while I cowered by the wall with my stocking cap over my face crying hysterically. And then everyone had to call me ugly. People on the phone could tell I was ugly. I seemed at one point in the Sears at the Fairlane Town Center to even store sight to the blind. I don't know what that was all about and I don't seem to be able to tell what I look like to others when I look in the mirror. So I am still paying for that to this day. Because that is how you punish people for fat shaming Jamie Kivela. You destroy their lives and make them pay for the rest of their lives. Or when I once whittled my fingers while Angela Diponio walked by in a gym shorts and gym shoes and went "shame, shame, shame". Our gym teacher Miss Chaney saw that and was shocked. And then she never let me use the bathroom again after that. I had my mother talk to the principal and explain to her I had frequent urination. I had to use the bathroom, even if I should have never said shame, shame, shame. And my mother said she did talk to our principal. But Miss Chaney still wouldn't let me use the bathroom, defiant as ever the next day. Because when go shame, shame, shame you are forever denied access to the bathroom I guess. And passing notes in the 8th grade while I found that boy, Andrew T. Long, Jr., attractive seems to have led to years of abuse in the mental health system. I still haven't figured that one out. And there were all kinds of other moral lessons that continued after that. Men seemed to know when I was glancing at them or looking at them in public. But my therapist seems to say that wasn't my imagination, they were put up to it again. He also agrees with me besides being no one's business that I'm gay or that I do that, that really isn't a good idea. To make me think people can know that. Because Detroit is a very violent city, and attacks against gays are not uncommon. Making someone think that people would know that can make me nervous and turn a innocent situation into a bad one. Actually a potentially dangerous one, in Detroit and in the metro area too.

And now we are back to the Evelyn moral lesson. Back in 1987 in Oakwood Hospital there was this poor, old, small, frail, crippled, blind woman named Evelyn. And her daughter was obviously abusing her. She was throwing her to the floor and yelling at her. The staff agreed. But they got really angry at her for complaining. Sure she abuses you, but why do you complain was the lesson they were trying to teach her. I thought at the time maybe patient confidentiality prevented the staff from taking action. Or maybe there was no law to address that situation. But there were reporting requirements for elder abuse in 1987 I recently found. The staff weren't following their own rules. Kind of like the police, I guess. Not following their rules, not following the law. But it's always wrong to complain. They were obviously violated the law when they abused me in Oakwood Hospital in 1988 and 9. And I never even tried to file a complaint, because I knew it would just lead to more abuse. But now the abuse and people not following the rules and the law has left me damaged. Damaged and with a shortened life. I will need special care now and other expensive things. That has never happened before. Permanent damage and harm. But nothing has changed. Nothing has changed and nothing is being done. And the old rules are still in place. Including the Evelyn rule that I should never complain, especially now with Eric blaming me and leaving me. And everyone telling me that law supports him in that, not me. Now that I am damaged, my life shortened, and despite what some people laugh about, that I am getting much too old for this. So maybe it is time to change the rules and let me live the rest of my life in peace. And maybe it's time we enforce the existing rules and laws and have everyone held accountable for what they did to me. And anyone else they hurt too. All the other Evelyns of this world.

Yeah, there was a lot of abuse at St. Scholastica grade school. Not all of the years there, but they are responsible for all of my problems then. Especially starting around 1980 in the 6th grade. And there were other places too where it happened, like I said. Like on the phone, and people I met at random and Fairlane Town Center. My 2011 therapist told me that nice lady psychiatrist I saw briefly at age 7 did think there was something wrong with me, though she seemed to tell my parents I was perfectly normal. And a lot of stuff seems to have begun in my 8th grade that I don't know of. But how could I? Supposedly it all surrounded my passing notes and how my teachers thought I needed help for that. But the kids were obviously bullying me because they found out I was attracted to Andrew Long. And then one of my alledged best friends Jaime Garcia started getting me in trouble, to be popular. Perhaps because he was already unpopular himself due to his Tourette's syndrome. That one time he stopped the whole class in Miss Margaret Seacord's English class, yelling "Hey! He's got a note!" And Miss Seacord, laughing by now, said "hand it over!" And then all those kids tackled me at the end of her English class that one time because they saw I was holding something, possibly another note. And after they wrestled it from my hand Craig Kell said it was innocent this time. But they'd leave it on Miss Seacord's desk just to let her decide.

I don't know what that was all about, above. I just know if continued long after that, it made me feel there was no hope for any life or the future and almost ended tragically several times, and now I am permanently damaged. Damaged, my life shortened and most of my life over now, now that I've turned into an old man. But no one cares, nothing is being done, and no one feels responsible for all the care I'll need now and a good quality of life too. It's all still a secret.