I am so pissed off, enraged, upset, hurt, rejected (worst of all of this is LOSS), no words could possibly describe it, though I've tried (below). I have enemies, I have friends, and I'm not always sure which is which. Schneider, I feel, I've righteously demonized. If only she lived in the same hell she cast me into (with no regard for my humanity). Hey Schneider. I'm making a request of your holy dictatorship: It's been almost two years. Can Nettie and I talk to each other on the phone? That is, if Nettie still wants to talk with me? But I don't know why I'm bothering to ask, since I know what your answer will be, along with some bullshit reason to justify it. You're so all-powerful, you can decided who can be friends with who, and who can't be. You don't even know why I did what I did. I won't tell you why I stalked Mostert (I might tell MOSTERT), but I can tell you why I harassed YOU: I lost my 2nd home - yes, your little 11th Floor dungeon was like a 1st or 2nd home to me, a place where I felt comfortable, where there were people I cared about, people who meant the world to me, people I even loved. People who liked and cared about ME. You terminated me for NO REASON: emails and phone calls are hardly worth bothering about - an obsessive/compulsive problem that could have been dealt with. I NEVER abused my meds, you retarded bitch. I sought more, for some reason I'm not sure of myself. I wanted to get what I wanted, and there might be no more to it than that. For the entire time I was with Mostert, I didn't ONCE take a pill that wasn't prescribed, skip a pill, or abuse a med. I respected Mostert, and she and I had a good, working relationship - an IDEAL relationship. I followed her directions diligently. You don't remember THAT. I PUSHED too hard for the addition of a 4th Klonopin, and my reason: to get my way, which was much more important to me than the f***ing 4th Benzo. More O/C. I can get Valium, I can get Xanax, so WHY WOULD I REALLY CARE about a fourth .5mg Klonopin? I was so hurt, so rejected, but most importantly, I suffered such a tremendous LOSS, that for months, I didn't want to live. I was extremely depressed, I just wanted to die, and would have readily put 300mg of Fentanyl in my mouth or affixed it to my arm, and had peace, and freedom from pain and suffering. I struggled with the idea of suicide for TWO OR THREE MONTHS. But there were two reasons I didn't: I couldn't do it to my son - he had already lost his dad, he loved his mom, he already had a fear of losing me, and I could NOT render him motherless. I struggled, in any case, because I suffered so much that losing my son almost didn't cut it. Second: MOSTERT CARED WHETHER I LIVED OR NOT. As you might know, she called Crisis Svcs, and accompanied by the police, they bullied me in to C-PEP. I put on an act for the dumbass, Donkey doctor, however, and was able to leave and go home. I believe that Mostert GENUINELY cared. And that made me feel somewhat better. Anyway, Schneider, if I had succeeded in offing myself with 30 bags of heroin, or 300mg of Fentanyl, no one would have been able to revive me. My mother and my cousin lawyer would have sued you for a MILLION TIMES MORE THAN YOU'RE WORTH. The Mental Hygiene Legal Svc, the first place I called, wouldn't help me: Aileen McNamara is a c*nt who sided with you (I believe she didn't like me), and due to her age, stupidity, brain damage, or senility, couldn't remember SQUAT. She didn't know what had transpired, from day to day, week to week, hour to hour. She must be 75 years old, or simply cared SO LITTLE, she didn't bother to do her job. She should've advocated for me - that's her f***ing JOB. As for Rochester - Mental Health Dept - they investigated, you filled their little minds with horseshit, and they ended up believing YOU - Schneider, you callous, lying bitch. I called Dept of Mental Health in ALBANY, and they were also of no help. Went to see Schneider's supervisor, Charletta, but that was fruitless since I screwed up, spent the half hour crying, hardly able to speak or make my case. What did she care if I was SAD? I just wanted justice, some kind of recourse; at best, to return to my 11th Floor home. None of that was about to happen. So it was all upon ME to bring about justice or revenge, to balance the scales MYSELF - no help from ANYONE. And I did exactly that. NONE of you powerful, evil, wicked assholes could TOUCH me. hahaha!! I pound my chest. And at this point - NOW - because Mostert told me to "be good," (Mostert has a lot of influence over me), I decided that the scales are now balanced. NOW. Although I still cry over my deep and harrowing loss, and though I'm forever changed, I'm willing to end it now, to decide it's OVER. And now that you presumably know MY SIDE OF THE OF THE STORY (YOUR side of the story is half-assed horseshit), I'm asking that I be permitted to speak with Nettie over the phone, if Nettie still wants me as a friend - as she and I had originally planned. But you're too petty and nasty, I believe, to say yes - but no harm in asking ha. (By the way, I'm a published author, I write fictionalized memoir, and should I ever write a short or long story about all this, I'll use your real name, and try to accurately depict the person you are.) I just CAN SCARCELY WAIT till you lose your position, Schneider, till there's a human being, rather than a bag of shit, in your place, and you go back to being a discharge planner, if you remain at ECMC at all. You slut! (you know you are, you were making verbal advances over the phone to me). It's probably how you got your job as supervisor. You get want you want with tits n ass. The only thing I'd get a positive response to from you is asking you to give my neighbor's dog a blow job.
I was later informed (by someone with good access to information) that the emails and phone calls were NOTHING. NO MORE THAN AN ANNOYANCE to you. My mentioning drug use was what gave them the EXCUSE to terminate me.
