My three-month psychiatric report seems to have been aimed at discrediting me after I leaked into newspaper stories. On the way to Canada to seek shelter, the police stopped me. I dodged them for three days through the rural towns and passed one at midnight, from a ditch on a mountain pass.
It was difficult for me to agree with how I was treated. Approaching the ward for two weeks, I walked in circles. I barked on the payphone, checking out many of my supports. Everyone said that I was delirious.
I really learned a lot from my boss-mob's daughter. There are many rules that govern those of us who fall prey to commerce on this earth for free. Nevertheless, I did everything I could to treat the crowd disrespectfully, especially because my adviser told me not to do it. So, I experienced a month of chronic storage conditions. I had to wear other nations. clothes to venture on the ice burner barely heated chamber.
Two and a half months in my psychiatrist finally answered my requests to meet with her.
“You know, Tim, one day we came here, saying that the FBI was watching him.
Of course, I didn't trust her enough to find out if she really referred to me as I thought.
***
Yes, I suffered some kind of injury that I needed to handle. My most loyal friend, who spoke openly about the vile past, suddenly threatened me. Maybe he made me put me in section 8 of the housing center where I worked? In addition, I was in a decade of emotional disconnection from my parents, who seemed to be associated with this threat. When the police intercepted me, severely informed me and separated me from the car, I learned that my parents had pushed them away.
As soon as I came out of a chronic unit that could well prepare me for permanent storage, I began again. I got a job in kindergarten, and I have a dog. It was a promise that I made myself to end the hospitalization. Something told me that I would be fine with a simple life and a dog that needed to be taken care of. And so I was lucky enough to find a way out for my fertility needs.
***
Shortly after I ran out of my one-month-old medication from the hospital, I began to overwhelm with strange events in the streets. I lost my job. I tensed to find a job and spend most of my small savings.
Sometimes I received several job offers, but I saw special television broadcasts. I, too, was sick of the food, which I thought was dosed with a laxative powder. I reasoned that the government sewed the tracking device on my dog when they fixed it. Wherever I went, I convincingly proved that it reinforced these ideas.
Aunt said that I could get a job at an Italian grocery store if I got closer to her. She could negotiate with my family, who agreed to support me if I went and accepted part-time employment. I made the move to the city on the outskirts of the bay.
***
My dog loved endlessly playing will and frisbee. I took her hikes, helped her create confidence, and she was grateful for our life together. But in the Bay area, I had to leave it for twelve hours a day, when I rode a bicycle and traveled by train four hours a day to work and back. However, she never went to the mat.
Of course I was crazy! I felt that my mafia family did not set me up to be easy for me. They seemed to want me to fail. I could not count on their support if I had not done my job. I often blamed them for being a mafia and responsible for all my suffering.
I collected daily evidence that my apartment was broken. I thought that neither the mob, nor the US government went for my dog. I decided that if they had time to torture me in this way, the less they could do, it would be to go after the dog for me.
But actually, I was amazed that my dog could be so loyal by the end of twelve hours to me. I did everything in my power to make sure she fully exercised. I did not mind when she chewed everything I had.
I still could not find work outside the deli. Dozens of interviews that I did not receive made me convince me that I was blacklisted.
Finally, after six months I got the car; then they brought benefits; and finally, after ten months, I returned for treatment. The level of harassment at work has declined. I found a job outside Italian deli.
***
I think it was my pedigree for my dog, which made me go through an extremely difficult situation. I was afraid of losing her. The Lord knows that I am not the perfect master. I have not always had a better solution. In the evenings, when I married my mother on the phone, because my mother’s children forced me to fire, they did not fire me.
It was so humiliating to admit that what they were saying about me was correct, that I had schizophrenia. The corrupt world was beautiful if I took medicine. Suspicious deaths that occur in projects for the construction of section 8 may be closed. Only my faithful dog could understand that it was wrong.
My dog lived sixteen and a half years. We grew up with her when we came out of this Italian deli. We had the biggest relationship, and they often became the envy of other dog owners in dog parks. She was beautiful. She was true. She was proud of me, despite what they said.
While everyone, including the cut I saw, just treated me like I was leaking and was worried about being around, I had a beautiful dog that needed me to take care of her.
