Good intentions are not love

I am slowly coming to the realization that forgiveness for the pointless "good intentions" my sister and mother had for me, will not come. At least not while I am living with my parents; which puts me in a catch-22, because the rents in my city are high.
On a sort of related note, here is a spoken word poem I did for a class I'm just finishing up: https://viuvideos.viu.ca/media/Kaltura+Capture+recording+-+March+20th+2020%2C+1A57A20+pm/0_88ij8y1e
Don't watch it if you are proud of being an armchair expert, and would rather keep the illusion that good intentions are always needed and wanted.

There is no magic form. Persons With Disabilities is designed to keep those on it in poverty. There is no workaround.

On Wednesday night, I was part of a Q&A panel of writers who had their pieces published in the anthology Disabled Voices. I was asked to read, and later, to be part of the panel, because I have a poem published in this work. Someone asked if there are things that we wish other people did not do to us. My answer was that every once in a while, on social media and in real life, I run across some idiot who firmly believes that I, as someone on the Autistic Spectrum, will always need someone who is not on the Spectrum, to run my decisions by. I posted before, years ago, about a roommate I once had, that actually believed this. I have run into others, mostly on social media, who also believe this. Of course, every one of them was either trolling, or were, and perhaps still are, notorious for being arm chair experts; meaning, they might know about a lot of things that they have had no real experience with. They also tend not to have any formal education in their favourite subject area, yet they don't see any reason for that to stop them from "helping people". Support worker sister is an arm chair expert. My former roommate was definitely an arm chair expert. Facebook and Twitter are full of arm chair experts.
Keep in mind, I did not rant about everything I have written here. We were tight for time, and we had issues with the microphone. Plus, I was not the only one who had given a reading; two other writers who had been published in the anthology had also read their pieces, and were part of the panel as well. I had to share the microphone, and the time allotted, with them. It did go well. I brought up support worker sister and my mom trying to make me fill out the form that would have led to nothing, in the past year, as the last part of an answer to a question. More specifically, the question I wrote about above. The editor, who had emceed earlier, and was guiding the dialogue we were having, added that there is no magic form; Persons With Disabilities is designed to keep those on it in poverty; and there is no workaround.
I wish that people knew this. I wish that people would remember this.
There is no magic form.
Persons With Disabilities is designed to keep those on it in poverty.
There is no workaround.
Only arm chair experts think that they can work the work the process somehow, and shake more money out of the tree.

False promises

I hate them. I loathe them, in fact. I realized how much when I went with my mother on Saturday to visit a great-aunt of mine. On the way back, we stopped somewhere for supper. She then proceeds to tell me that she thinks she and my dad will have their debts paid down, have some money saved up, and be able to put a downpayment on a one bedroom condo somewhere.
I have a problem processing this, mostly because this promise has been made before. The only difference was the building the condo was in hadn't even been built(it's still not done), and buying it was going to be a joint effort between a sister and my parents. It was also going to be a "micro-suite" that I would have been renting. That fell through, mainly because my parents didn't realize how broke they were. I am not angry that the condo wasn't bought. I am angry that the promise of a condo for me to live in and rent was made in the first place.

Still drowning, still angry, still tolerating

I still can't get past how unhappy I am, living with my parents. I need and want to move out, yet the rents in my city are ridiculous. My mother literally feels entitled to interrupt me whenever she feels like it. I withdrew from her because of the silly form that she wanted me to fill out, on the one worded "not a conversation" recommendation of my support worker sister, and my mother's half-assed reading, but not comprehending, it.
I will be forty at the end of April. Things have been by some family members that they want this birthday to be an "event". And yet, right now I can't process the idea or the image of celebrating my birthday, a day that's SUPPOSED to be for me, with people that I can only tolerate right now. There are four members of my family, three of my sisters, who I can't do more than tolerate right now:

• There is the Promise Maker sister. I call her that because she and her husband love making promises, and have overpromised themselves before. It was her who said she would buy a new build condo and rent it to me for a price I could pay. So she promises and promises and promises, because she finds it fun or something, but keeping them is a different thing entirely. A part of adulting is learning how to keep promises, or don't make them if you're not sure you can keep them. My problem isn't with her not buying the condo, it is with her telling me that she would, with the help of my parents, then it didn't happen, because condos are expensive now. So they must have thought condos are the same price as nice posterboard from a craft store.
• The Defender sister. This is the one who came out of the woodwork, defending Support Worker sister and my mother, and their Good Intentions, as if they needed it. I ask for them to not push them on me again, and she literally said, "Okay, we won't help you anymore," as if good intentions that lead nowhere is actual help. This sister apparently has no idea what the road to hell is paved with.
• Of course, Support Worker sister. Who used to, at least until she told me that I ruined her floor by not wiping out the windowsills, would act like she knew everything that was disability benefit and income assistance related, because of a job she once had. Yet, all the jobs she has held since she quit her group tenancy, or whatever it was called, pay her much less. I doubt she's even making a third of what she used to make when she had this high paying job that led her to think she KNEW things. The reason she gave us for leaving that job was she that it was too hard on her mentally, or something along those lines. Now, she and her husband have so much debt they are being forced into selling their house and moving in with his parents. Seriously, if she had held such an important position, and she was able to gather all this knowledge, she could get herself a better paying job by using some of the valuable connections she must have made while working her group tenancy, right? Even if the funding for her position stopped, she may still have some leeway to get a better paying position. Unless she left under a cloud. Of course, I have no way of knowing, except for what she tells me. And I don't know how to find out.
• My mother, who thinks it's okay to endlessly interrupt me. She once disturbed me to tell me that she was switching laundry detergents, then when she saw me again, proceeds to tell me exactly the same thing. Another time, she basically barged into my room twice in the space of twenty minutes to remind me what I was giving up by not pursuing eligibility for a local agency. I stopped because she insisted on putting her fingerprints all over the entire process, and I couldn't take it anymore. But then, this is the same woman who, when she and my father were in the routine of going out to the movies on Tuesdays with my aunt and uncle when they were staying in town for a few months, couldn't be bothered to close a sliding glass door upon leaving to see her precious movie with her sister. She would slam the thing, it would bounce open just wide enough to let in cold air and whatever bugs that our winters hadn't killed yet, and I would get up to close it. I asked her once to make sure it was closed when they left. She responds with she was in a hurry, she has to go, blah, blah, blah. I also asked her to find a course she could take on autism and Asperger's syndrome. She decides to buy books and join a Facebook group instead. I don't know why she couldn't do what I asked her to. I do know I asked her to do it because I desperately want and need her to see how much she hurts me when she acts or speaks without thinking. All three of my sisters need to take a course too. I wish they could see just how pointless that silly little form was, and that good intentions, even if they are, in fact, golden ones, won't get me anywhere if there's no research or actual knowledge behind them.

So anyways, I probably could celebrate my birthday with all my sisters and my mother if they can get over me only being able to tolerate them. If none of them have some useless good intention that goes absolutely nowhere. If they don't produce forms out of the woodwork, saying that it will help me get a thing. Basically, I want them to behave themselves.

A few things

Still having emotions and stuff about formerly posted stuff. But I have realized some things. I need to move out of my parents' condo. I think the only reason I moved in was because my parents and another, different sister said they were going to buy a condo together and rent it to me. That didn't happen. By the time I was finally told about it not happening, it not happening had become an afterthought. As if they hadn't realized that I was counting on living somewhere that wasn't with them. I actually did enjoy living alone, for the months that I did. It was actually fun, most of the time. No constant interruptions when I'm trying to study. No one wanting to play music or listen to a story when I want it quiet. No sudden noises. I want to live alone, not with my parents. That will mean getting a part-time job somewhere. I can't afford the rents around here with just what I get on Disability. There is also the added bonus of having a job makes me look better on a rental application.
I have also read a study that most people on the Autistic Spectrum think they are bad; as in, genuinely bad, and that's why some people close to us, not on the Spectrum, are so angry with us. It's why they feel like they have to control us. It's why they feel like we are their "duty" or their chore, or their burden. I often feel as if I am not human when interacting with my family. I literally feel as if I am burdening them just by existing. When my sister told me that I damaged her floor by not wiping out the windowsills, I believed it for exactly three minutes. In those three minutes, I wanted to die. I cringed at my stupidity, at my carelessness, at my neglect. I thought I was a bad person for not doing a household chore that I hadn't even known that people did. Well before the time I got home that day, I realized that the damage to the floor was actually due to two different things that had happened while I was living there, the emotions started then; but I didn't feel as if I could purge them. My youngest sister was getting married that summer, and I didn't want anything to happen that would cause enough drama that she would "uninvite" me.

Having good intentions does not always mean love

Still angry about the ridiculous form that my mother and my sister tried to get me to fill out. Still angry about the floor that I apparently "destroyed". Now, my mother is trying to get me to forgive her and the sister. In other words, she's trying to bully me, or at least it feels like it. She bullies the way her father did. It's not just that my sister thought that I should fill out this form, told me that I damaged the floor in the basement suite, and made a funky cat smell. It's also that she said this:
"But Kim, you just don't seem to notice some things."
I tried to respond, she interrupted me:
"But Kim, you just don't seem to notice some things."
I tried again to respond, but couldn't, because she interrupts me again.
"But Kim, you just don't seem to notice some things."
I can't remember if I have told anyone that she said that, to me, while trying to fulfill the "good intention" she was having that day; maybe it's anywhere from difficult to impossible to understand just how horrible it was for me. In that moment, I really did think that she thought I was one of the people she looked after at her work; mostly people with Down's Syndrome or low functioning Autism, not Asperger's, or high functioning Autism. She was saying that I was someone that I wasn't, based on something she thought I had done; but I hadn't done it. The damage was due to two different things: the water main breaking, and the washing machine leaking. Both things that her husband had a lot to do with. He was the one out in the bobcat, levelling the yard for some reason; he had started a load of laundry in a machine that he didn't realize was broken, and leaked everywhere. A good ten to fifteen minutes of actual thinking would have caused her to doubt her theory, maybe enough to not even mention it. Instead, she goes on about what an expert she is, and how much she knows about what I can get. Which of course, shows just the opposite; so many people who are experts on anything need to be prodded into talking about the subject they're experts on, and will usually only say a few words on it; but people who are only "experts" will talk at length at the barest hint of it.
When my mother brought the form home, she didn't just tell me to fill it out, again and again. And try to convince me that it might get me into a housing development that only takes homeless people. Or another development that's only for indigenous families. She also didn't believe me when I told her that filling out this form would basically lead to nothing, after I had read it for myself. I also went to the trouble to email a local housing society, asking them if I should fill it out. The response I got back was a bit snappish and snarky, but also clear. It plainly said that I should not fill it out, and that nothing would make me get into housing faster. Not even a sister and a mother willing to bully me into filling out useless forms, and gaslight and bully me into doing so. They can't bully the process either, no matter how hard they try.
Anyways, good intentions doesn't always mean love. Sometimes it just means control or meddling.

A "summing up" post

Just in case no one wants to read the post I wrote before this one, I decided to sum things up. My mom and one of my sisters, who works as a support worker at various places, tried to get me to fill out a form that does not apply to me in anyway whatsoever, just because the sister, who does not have a degree, or a certificate or any kind of formal post-secondary education, and can't be bothered to get one, because going to school is hard for her; she also works exclusively at jobs that don't pay her enough, probably because she doesn't have any formal post-secondary education. Yet, most of my family seems to buy into the theories she puts forward as gospel truth.
As poorly researched as this was, it will always be defended by most of the members of my immediate family as a "good intention". Bringing home a nine page form (I was wrong about the length of the thing, but still, my mom and sister should have bothered to read it past the heading), badgering me to fill the silly thing out, and arguing with me when I pointed out to them that the language on the thing didn't even SUGGEST that it was something a woman pushing forty and with a diagnosis of Asperger's syndrome should be filling out. But they had a "good intention", and no one should derail these two from performing them. Not even reality.
Here is a link to the form that they wanted me to fill out. Remember, it's nine pages long, so read it before you tell me that I should fill it out. Or that filling it out "won't/can't do me any harm, dear." Having it pushed on me in the first place by people who couldn't be bothered to even read it thoroughly, has done me plenty. Not to mention that support worker sister actually thought she could be my "third party verifier" that this form requires, yet with her being a support care worker, AKA a shelter or outreach worker, of a sort, she could only have been my third party verifier if I were homeless, going by what the form states.