As I chose my pad at Friday night's Interim Housing Site, the Asian/Albanian hater said to me, "Barbara! I told them you weren't dead!"
Huh?
"Do you know Barbara Curry?"
I don't know any other Barbs in PADS.
"She's black."
I don't know her. (By the way, I am Welsh, Scot, German and Norwegian. I am so not black, I glow like lutefisk.)
She's tall.
I don't know her. I'm 5 ft 6 on a good day.
Skinny.
I don't know her. And I'm not just fat, I'm morbidly obese.
Maybe weighed 85 pounds.
I don't know her, and I haven't weighed 85 pounds since 5th grade, I'll bet.
Her name was Barb Curry.
Ok. Mine isn't. I am sorry for your loss.
I TOLD them you weren't dead!
Who the fuck wants me dead THAT badly?
Later, I was sitting in the Women's area at Our Saviour's Lutheran Church in Naperville on the same evening of July 21. I was waiting to speak to the Prayer Minister, and watching the movie Fantastic Beasts. Wondering why someone wanted me dead: just to have gossip to share? I was sitting on the folding chair next to my pad, which was near the entrance to the Women's section - facing away from the entrance (to view the movie.)
People were walking in and out of the Women's section - mostly kids without their parents, but most were not a distraction (I noticed because I was watching for the Prayer Minister.). I was getting anxious about talking to the Prayer Minister, because she had stood by the food tables, while I stood in the back of the room, trying to summon her back to me. “Accio, Prayer Minister.” I didn’t want to walk up to the food tables, because I didn’t want to upset people thinking I was going for food... One of the teenaged girls who stopped in the Women’s section offered to let the Prayer Minister know I needed to see her (to pray for my dad's battle with cancer.) Then a boy I will call C, (a friend's son) clapped fast and loudly, 7 or 8 times in succession, as he does, outside of the Women's section - on the other side of the folding wall. So, I heard him coming.
Then Boy C ran around to the opening of the Women's section, stepped in, came up behind me, and stuck his hand under my buttocks (between the chair and my body), pressing between my butt cheeks, grabbing, as he chortled disgustingly. I spun slightly and said, "What the hell?". Boy C removed his hand and ran down to his pad on the opposite end of the Women's section. A young lady from another family witnessed the assault and said, "Oh, I'm so sorry.". I was mortified. I wish the earth had opened and enveloped me, right there.
Boy C is maybe 11 or 12 years of age. He speaks very little, displays little control, and I've wondered in the past what combination of Autism and ADHD (or what else) causes his issues. They need to find out and address those issues soon... The next time I am assaulted, I will protect myself.
His mom is a wonderful lady and a helpful, supportive friend. I hate to think of my actions causing her pain. So, when she stopped by my pad to chat, I told her what had happened, quietly. But I have not told others. The only people who know what happened until now are the mom and those involved, or the witness. And now, you.
THIS SUCKS! What if the kid does that - or worse - to someone else? Why do I have to sleep each night in an area with a kid who has (sexually) assaulted me... And apparently, enjoyed it? PADS should figure out something... Kids of an age where they are expressing sexual curiosity should be sleeping in their family groups only. Kids with significant developmental issues and lack of control should be provided Housing Opportunities ASAP, and if refused and the child continues to act out, they should be removed to an appropriate - and safe - facility.
Last night was horrible... Far from relaxing. I am stressing myself out, worrying about tonight. And as I type this on my Amazon Fire to edit it for publication, the Fire is making every word capitalized. I think I am going crazy.
Oh... and I missed the last half of Fantastic Beasts! I want to see that and Boss Baby. I want to laugh, but I only feel like crying.