Hi, ginnie:

Thank you so much for understanding my feelings. This morning, when I read both your messages, I felt so touched it brought tears to my eyes. There is nothing worse than being rejected by one's family because one is disabled, sick, and poor. I agree so much with you when you say it is not the gift or its cost that matter, but the presence and love this person can offer. Obviously, in my family, my presence is not desired, nor is my love wanted. I hear almost every day comments like: "When are you going to live us alone? Are we going to have to stand your presence for the rest of our lives? When are you leaving?..."

Quote: "They are making you feel worse than you already do, because you cannot afford the gifts."

This is why I hate celebrations like Birthdays, Father or Mother's Days, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve Day... I feel left out, rejected, hated, and criticized so much. My family thinks I am greedy, when I am just poor. They just forgot (and they want to forget) I have a health condition very expensive to control, called generalized internal chronic RSD. They prefer to say RSD is in my mind.

One thing that shocked me is when my mother offered to buy a U.S. $ 50,000 luxury SUV to my brother who is already rich (he earns at least between U.S. $ 4,000 and $ 5,000 every month) while, at the same time, refusing to give me the same U.S. $ 50,000 I must have to go to Germany to see Dr. Rohr for the inpatient RSD Ketamine Coma Procedure I really need to expect getting better someday (I earn a little less than U.S. $ 1,000 every month). My mother tells me something like: "What if this treatment is ineffective? What a waste of money!" but she does not tell my brother: "What if you wreck the luxury SUV? What a waste of money!" It is so easy to see who is loved most between me and my brother. No need to be a rocket scientist to see this.

Quote: "Your culture sounds like it is putting a lot of pressure on you to do something you can't do."

Not everybody in every family in the country in which I am gives more importance to the financial value of gifts. There are some families who care more about the money and mine is one of them.

I do not receive any kind of help from the French government or from the French Polynesian government. I remember reading an article in one French Polynesian newspaper mentioning that the French Polynesian goverment considers older people, disabled people, and poor people like a burden, even though most of these people do not receive any help.

Yes, our teeth suffer. I have to put off having my teeth treated, I have to put off having new eyeglasses done, I have to put off consulting a new endocrinologist for my thyroid problems, I have to put off buying a new functional knee brace for my RSD knee (result: more pain, but not more painkillers, because these happen to be narcotics and no doctors in French Polynesia like to increase narcotics dosage, even if it is necessary and even though there are Americans who are taking a much higher narcotics dosage than mine for the same health condition I have), I have to put off seeing a specialist to check if I have or not brain and/or breast cancer or tumor... all of this because I am poor. Someday, I will have to choose between rent, food, medical treatment, etc.

I am sorry for your tooth problem. To add to this, I know about priorities, choosing which body part will get medical care first, according to how much (little) money we have.

You are the kind of person everybody would want as a friend or family member, because you showed the true nature of your heart, full of love, compassion, caring, understanding...

Quote: "Maybe you should just tell those people who expect a big gift to back off, that their hearts are not in the right place. RSD is horrible to live with and they should show you compassion."

When I tell people who expect an expensive gift to back off, they bite my head off, telling me I have no gratitude in my heart and that I have a rock in place of my heart.

At "home", my only friend is (you are going to think I am nuts) my childhood pillow. Every time I am sad, I go to my bedroom and cry my eyes off on my childhood pillow until it gets so, so wet. I also feel I can confide (silently) to my childhood pillow when I need to get something out of my chest. I am not crazy; I just feel so, so lonely. My mother knows how much I love my childhood pillow. One day, she told me she would throw it away. Now, whenever I go out, I take my chilhood pillow with me so she cannot destroy it. Even though it might sound crazy to some, I love my childhood pillow and I know he loves me.