Patricia's Correspondence


I received this, my twenty-fourth message from Patricia, the first of three for 14th February, 2011. This email letter is signed by Patty A and Margaret B with Patty's email in the sender field and Margaret's in the signature. It's a much longer letter than last shorties.



Subject: RE: Hello

To Whom It May Concern:

I worked for someplace called Ecumenical Housing Services many years ago through a temp agency. It was located in downtown Denver within walking distance to the Barth or Olin hotels off of East Colfax Avenue. I had to walk file folders over to those places as part of my job duties. At the time they were part of a new socialistic health care and housing system that were just getting off the ground. I'm sure it has all changed by now or has incorporated with MHCD and no longer exists. HUD for Section 8 and the shelter system wasn't built or in place then. My boss, Debbie Thompson was out of the office a lot and left me alone to answer the phones all day except for the occasions when I would walk file folders over to those places for someone else. I don't know what the file folders contained or what they were about because I was more ethically inclined than others in those days and knew it was none of my business and didn't really care since it wasn't part of my therapy program as far as I knew and I wasn't working towards a degree in psychiatry or social work and had no plans to make that as my career. I may have been attending Mesa College in then but I do know I was still heavily medicated and in counseling someplace. I also volunteered at Ecumenical Refugee Services through the United Way many years ago but that was unpaid and a volunteer job. At least there were other people in the office coming and going so I wasn't all alone all day long and I didn't have to handle confidential patient records unsupervised. I also volunteered for Earth Day while I was on welfare and living at The King Lear Apartments at 336 Grant Street in downtown Denver. I was there only one day stuffing envelopes. It was close to where I lived on South Broadway so I was able to walk there and back again at the end of the day without any problems.


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I worked at numerous temp agencies and had many temporary jobs throughout my lifetime starting while I was still in high school. I had a part time temporary job at Mesa College off campus painting stairs for someone. I also worked part time at the Mesa College cafeteria and thought I could continue with that or the same company the summer I shared an on campus apartment with another student. The homelessness shelter system offered homeless people part time jobs through their resources and other temporary agencies. I worked and earned a paycheck although I was homeless and without a bank account. It was only pocket money and didn't last very long and certainly wasn't enough to pay bills or rent or maintain my own apartment. I was working and had my own bank account with good references and good credit and background check before I was sent to live at the Samaritan Shelter and HUD and Section 8 and was offered other services through MHCD and other charitable organizations. Everything changed when my past record 20 blocks long became an issue and an easy target for certain organizations and individuals.




I had mainly temp office jobs that never became permanent before I became homeless and eligible for government help through HUD. Welfare to work programs never did me much good because I wasn't doing as well as I could have or should have and knew it and that should have been common sense knowledge for staff members and therapists who suggested that in the first place. It was a vicious cycle that went no where and made it impossible for many people myself included to be able to work their way off welfare and into a well paying job. How I survived it all I don't know. Maybe it was because of my Dad's history of living and working and barely surviving horrible conditions when he was younger and living in that part of town. It could be part of my "Star, Crystal, Indigo, Changeling" personality type that told me to do that. Maybe my Dad secretly knew or wished I would live a horrible life like that because he and his friends were sick or not very nice to me or valued things other than me or whatever life I could have had. They got their wish but I wish that had never happened or it had turned out differently. My own father may have recommended it or thought it was an acceptable alternative for some reason. He never said anything to me about it one way or the other and neither did anyone else. Either way it was a horribly unnecessary life, time, health and happiness and prosperity waster that unfairly stole a lot of good years away from me as far as I'm concerned. My parents or their friends, relatives and health care team might have seen it differently. I wouldn't know because they have never said anything to me about it at all and probably never will.

I never had a very good life or home past the age of 12. I had to grow up quickly and function as an independent adult when I wasn't ready and wasn't able to take care of myself regardless of how much medication and helpful support from therapists I had available. After I got out of Ft. Logan at 18 I was still on medication and estranged from my mom and dad. After that it was my Iranian boyfriends that took me away from any recovery process. Then it was college where I was still medicated and had to deal with the health care system within a few short years. I came back to Denver and the same problems were still here waiting for me even though I was older and doing better. My Dad or someone he knew didn't want to give me any peace or rest even though I had a chance of getting my life back in order for once. Living at home became frightening and unbearable and I felt he was the one who ran me off to go live with their friends. The foster care homes weren't much help but did give me a rest from all the medication I was taking. I moved out of my house and in with my parents friends and ex-boss and his family but they had a lot of their own problems and it was a strange situation for me and maybe for my mom's friend also. I wouldn't know because they never said anything to me one way or the other until it was too late. Then it was the homeless shelter system, HUD and Section 8 housing and eventually back to more medication and therapy from MHCD and their day programs. I had been away from any normal home life or parents or anything happier or family oriented since I was 12 in a lot of ways and not just physically not living at home.




I had a lot of problems with fearing anyone involved with the health care system for many years after that for obvious reasons. I never had problems with the cops or security guards or being overly fearful of the police or other people who claimed to be officers of the law until after the police arrived at our house to remove me a few times after I had decided to move back here permanently in about 1999 or 2000. An over abundance of unpaid and unqualified cops, paramedics etc. started to enter the job market about that time but I was the one who was harassed like I was a wanted terrorist or an unwanted risk to some phony health care and security business that shouldn't have been in business at all. It was unreasonable and faulty logic on their part and I am still in recovery and haven't done very well over the last several years because of all that. I am still fearful and disdainful of the cops to where it has made it impossible or at least very traumatizing, painful and difficult to leave my home for any length of time to live a normal life and continue with recovery like what should have happened starting about 10 or 12 years ago. I know there must be good cops and first responders out there somewhere but I'm afraid the bad ones may still be around also and might try to ruin my life some more or evict us out of our home or kill myself or my mother with assistance from our corrupt and sick neighbors like they tried to do several years ago. They are the ones who may have killed our cat "Sunny"

I must have spent the first phase or first half of the socialistic health care reform crisis homeless, on welfare and living downtown in some pretty horrible conditions from 1988 to about 1998. The second half for the last 10 to 12 years I've spent still not being able to go anywhere or have a decent quality of life restored because I'm still a prisoner in my own home. It was once all about the mentally ill and incompetent in Section 8 housing now it's a false terrorism alert by security people who are corrupt, incompetent or too uneducated and inexperienced to really know what they are doing and why. It's almost the same thing only recycled or now that someone found out I was living at home and finally escaped the HUD system they're trying something new to make it worse or to make sure I don't escape or run away this time when I haven't done anything wrong. It is still very hard on my health and life and I never agreed to any of it. My sense of isolation and fearfulness has added to my mother's health and old age problems and hasn't provided a very normal or healthy quality of life for her and hasn't encouraged a decent relationship between us and any friends or relatives she still has. NAMII, MHCD (Mental Health Corporation of Denver) and the rights of the mentally ill and incompetent were a big deal to someone during those years not me. I was never involved with or cared about the rights of the mentally ill and incompetent in those days and still don't. It's not my cup of tea and never was. I was the victim of it all not an employee. I had enough of my own dilemmas no one was paying attention to or they chose to ignore my predicament and I wasn't getting much help to succeed and overcome and get away and stay away from all that. I had my own struggles to deal with so it's no wonder I didn't have any time or strength left for anything else. NAMII and MHCD never did me much good and weren't any help and added to my problems or made it worse. I never got anything out of it and I have nothing positive to show for it at all.

Patty A and Margaret B