I greatly appreciate you giving me your time to learn about me. As you may know, I need a new service dog and am using my @ServiceDogNeeded page to promote both my need for a new service dog and to present interesting and sometimes controversial dog info (quality not quantity) on my page, I am challenging you to visit and Like Service Dog Needed. My goal is to meet and ideally surpass the 300 Like mark by Monday 4 August. I invite you to read on and discover how I ended up on disability. My hope is that some small part of my story will resonate within you. I have done many things with my life, but the one thing I never imagined, was becoming disabled. I was severely abused as a child, and the only being I could confide in was our dog. Besides her, I was always immersed in one activity or another, giving me a reason to keep going. But even with both escapes, I cannot remember a time when I did not self-injure in one form or another., and my first, very childish, suicide attempt was when I was six. When I was young, my focus was music. As a pre-teen, I fell in love with horses, and I thought breeding and training them would be my lifes work. My knowledge of horses allowed me to help start a computer company that specialized in creating CDs about the horse. Unfortunately for us, the birth of internet made our CDs redundant. After a couple of years, I decided it was time for me to go to college. I had never been a great student – school was a safe place to sleep – but in college, I excelled and this was my undoing. In the three and a half years I was there, I worked on a double major, English and chemistry, and a minor in math. I presented four papers at a national level, was secretary of our chem club, and had the most prestigious co-op chem job. The problem: was my brain could not handle the stress I was putting on myself at school and the nightmares of my childhood. The cost was one suicide attempt after another, self injuring by slashing my wrists to smithereens – competing to need more stitches each time, and bouncing in and out of the hospital. One day, I was working towards attending Cal Tech for grad school and the next I was out in the middle of nowhere on disability. Acquaintances have told me many stories about people who they believe have lied or pretended to get onto disability. There is no obvious injury so how can anything be wrong? When I am not using my wheelchair, strangers often see my service dog and demand to know why I need her and what she does. Disability is not a life of free money, no work, and fun; it is not like winning the lottery. How much you receive is dependent on how much you put in. I had put very little in and receive very little: ~ $850/month in an expensive area to live. If it was not for a housing subsidy, I would be living on the streets. Without Medicare and Medicaid, I would have no health care (Obama may have changed that) and would be living in agonizing pain. While the psych issues have improved, my physical problems are growing. The migraines that I have had since childhood have become much worse to the point where at times, I am unable to tolerate light, noise., and heat. I have added degenerative disc disease and fibromyalgia to my list of diagnoses. The meds I am on make me very tired, and it takes me twice as long as a healthy person to do anything. With all my “free” money from disability, I do not get to take a fabulous tropical vacation. Instead, I typically have two or more doctor appointments a week. Right now, I am spending every drop of available energy fundraising for my new service dog. Some days, I am too tired to exist, much less accomplish anything. My “tropical vacation” is to come home and rest. I am extremely grateful that I live in a country that is able and willing to take care for its injured. I might not enjoy the same luxuries that many people do, but I have a roof over my head, good doctors, and good medicine. Without disability, I would definitely be homeless, if not dead. I just wish people would not think that I have won the lottery, and recognize that there are many serious invisible disabilities. Strangers coming up to me demanding to know what Anna does or what is in her packs feels like a violation of my privacy.. People rarely go around asking why someone is using a cane or a wheelchair, and I cannot imagine someone asking a stranger what is in their purse. I end where I began. I am extremely grateful that you have taken the time to read my story. I would greatly appreciate you visiting Service Dog Needed and Liking it. Please Like and Share this post. It would be of great help if you would donate even $5.00. Thank you for reading this and helping me! Charlotte DeBaere =)
Posted on: Sun, 03 Aug 2014 03:19:37 +0000
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