Trying to keep on keeping on

 .full of …nothing… I’m not even angry or sad. I’m just. Nothing.

I’m sick of this bed.

I want to go the fk outside. I want to go swimming.

Fk man I just want to get into the living room. 

It is Sunday, technically, 1am…and I haven’t had a wash since Monday because the carers can’t wake me and it’s causing all sorts of stress in a marriage that’s not even a year and a half in. 

I… can’t even explain to the decision makers how bad cr@p gets. 

I tried this week with a psychiatrist I’ve waited 2 years to hear from…and she decided it was all physical and once I have the correct powerchair “things will be mich better”… not denying that may help but…how tf do I get to that day?

I’ve been waiting for more than 10 years for help with physical movements. It has culminated in me being now completed confined to bed and I have a bedside commode. (I wanted to write $hit bucket but… it’s plastic and it just reeks beyond belief. If you could smell a picture I would post it on Instagram to show people what’s REALLY GOING ON for the disabled people of Glasgow and the U.K… and we’re supposed to be a “developed country”…a phrase coined during the Cold War that really needs to change! THE U.K. IS NOT OK. It hasn’t been for a long time.

Stupid head is racing. 

How dare I wish to have a shower at whatever time I’d like (or need…I’m not choosing this…I have M.E. in amongst other things)… people don’t believe I can sleep through someone trying to wake me… and when they first experience it they’re usually alarmed and want to call for a doctor. We laugh at that now (we DO NOT LAUGH AT THE PEOPLE)(we laugh at the thought that a doctor would be prepared to come witness this -they saw during my last hospital stay. 

They did not seem bothered.)

I don’t know what I’ll do when I can’t argue the fact that gaming helps.

I’ve had to curb it because my wife finds it upsetting. She thinks I’d rather spend time playing with fun people and that she’s not fun…

But.. it’s not that. I’m checked out.

Also… the score at the end of the month gets turned into money for Mary’s Meals and I don’t feel like a completely revolting and selfish ‘human’.

I can’t properly see the games anymore -even taking the limits I had previously into consideration (I’ve always been partially sighted)…but, now it’s sending me right over the edge.

I wasn’t always the last to do things.

I didn’t always do nothing.

I used to be fun and funny -or so people said.

I used to run 2 10Ks a year for charities and now … I’ve been inside this flat since jan2020 and in this same fkn bed since june2020. A full year. Just in bed.

I don’t feel like a human. I haven’t for a long time.

The filming for Indiana Jones AND the next film with the flash in it were happening in the last few weeks ONE STREET OVER and we’re just completely invisible.

I don’t feel invisible when I game but I am scared at my vision loss and I can’t get to a fkn eye clinic (and I’m scared to go out at the best of times but now I don’t want to know the answers)

I know the answers. I’m losing more vision…

And I can’t think how it’ll be to have no vision and no walking and …all the phrases of “you should be thankful you have food” (I AM!) and “you should be grateful you’re not in a war-torn country” (I AM!!)

My heart feels like it’s breaking but my head truly believes that i deserve it.

Motley Mini Rants

I haven’t been able to write or colour or paint or draw or type much for the last ...wow! that’s a long time!

Partner wrote an article and some eejit said it was whiny and incessant... it was neither.
We don’t complain... some people may think we do but we don’t! I only had here to offload and then I suddenly couldn’t.

Social work are being utterly disgusting with my partner and putting her through a pre-assessment assessment tomorrow to decide if she warrants an assessment... (she’s already in their system and hasn’t had any contact with them of any sort -their failings not hers!- for at least 14 years, so yes! “Things have changed here on Walton’s mountain”! and this is downright unlawful and they keep pushing it back which is also adding to squashing feeling...

My social worker (who happily left me homeless more than 17 months, because there is NO TIME LIMIT for rehoming someone who is disabled in Glasgow since those flats/houses are “few and far between”?!! Yeah because the builders keep finding loopholes to build them properly accessibility-wise STILL(!) and my old housing officer told my mum I was “basically waiting for someone to die”! My mum dropped her bag and later that night cried herself to sleep.

Finally managed to get outside today to go to a mental health assessment for me and the taxi’s ramp broke so I was trapped in the taxi& ended up 20 minutes late; (I’ve waited more than a year for this appointment but that incident all outwith anyone’s control? Not a single fuck was given)
Partner called to let them know what was happening and they said ok and to come...
THEN? they wouldn’t see me. Next appointment was for April. Hopefully I’ll no longer be anyone’s burden by April.
We’re both in wheelchairs. That means a 2-taxi trip everywhere.
The hidden expense of being disabled means that cost us £48 today for nothing more than tears and fighting urges to hurt.

Some idiot replied to my partner’s article this evening and that comment just landed on a day when folk who don’t get it need to reel their neck in. I’m all for freedom of speech and comment away! but sheesh! Read the piece first eh?!

Long story short... I had a rant and I’m going to try to sleep and it will be fine.
Also, I’m sorry.

trying to be ok after being assaulted

I’m trying to be OK but I don’t know that I’m managing to be. I’m not in my head; I don’t know where I am but it’s not in my head.  I have yet to be able to get in touch with mental health out of hours or  (long story short my family see me doing that as me telling the world they’re not taking care of me. No matter how I’ve tried to explain that would be far from the case, I’m just not allowed the landline -you have to call from a landline and they call you back, it’s all such a rigmarole).

I am OK. Day to day it changes, as it does for everyone, I know. Nights are ...interesting, we shall go with interesting... Very erratic and dependant on so many factors, of which I have zero control.
When I manage to drift off it’s so horrible that I wake myself screaming -and my family, and possibly the neighbours and goodness knows what animals are thinking I’m some other creature’s dinner...

I’m trying to be OK but I’ve become more of a burden than ever. I most definitely don’t like the fact that everything seems so far-fetched that it cannot possibly be true; if my life over the last few years had been a soap plot line for one character there’d be mass outrage at the insanity of it. (Yet when it’s being lived there is no public outcry... Good God! Not that I’d want that! I just mean... I don’t know what I mean...) I’m sorry you know stuff. I’m sorry to add to the toxicity of this world by just being in a room and people knowing things. It feels like everyone knows everything but I know that’s not the case. Very few people actually know and I’ve not spoken about it (with the exception of having given a statement-where two police officers and an appropriate adult(!) appeared at my door and I dissociated so badly that I have almost no recollection of any of the SEVEN HOURS I was with them!)

Dissociation is both good and bad.
My inability to recollect specifics is telling me he is a stranger; my ‘dreams’ are not...

Homeless and disabled in Glasgow

Being homeless and disabled is... there isn’t an adequate word... I’m going with interesting because I refuse to spend hours fretting over one word... again.

Right now I am exhausted in every way possible.

I was put in a terrible predicament that triggered my BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) and caused me to flip the switch in my head where I jump a million steps and go straight to ‘what if I can’t get to a shop to get food from a homeless unit I’m put in because it’s not accessible and have a day/week/month where I’m unable to ask for help with that...
so I was told, because I mentioned something (going to panic-causing events in my head caused me to say that I just wanted to stop existing) that caused the police officers to not be allowed to let me stay anywhere on my own.
I’m now in a place where I am crawling and being shouted at for doing so.

To get somewhere to stay I’ve to apply to each and every housing authority, if I’d like to stay in that area, fill in all the long-ass forms, AND EXPLAIN WHY I NEED TO MOVE.

Brilliant.
I’m done.
I cannot possibly do that.

Oh, why were the police involved? I was assaulted. In the flat I stayed in. Alone.

I thought he had come to kill me.
I wish he had.

I’ve not to stay in that flat under police instruction.

This is all too much.

I would like to disappear but it’s not selfish

I’ve just found an old school friend online. Saw she is married which was nice, two beautiful children, then I saw to whom she is married...and I broke more inside. How can this thing even still sustain me? Why can’t it give in and nobody needs to feel shame from suicide or think I was selfish (my being here still is a double-edged sword) I want to be productive, I want to be helpful, I WANT SO DESPERATELY to be ...better? Ok? Not a burden? Something...

I’m not allowed to live in my flat (as per police instructions) my mobility equipment and my wheelchair are there. I am in so much extra pain because I don’t have these things. 

I’ve been called fat twice today, in the place where I’m having to stay tonight, I don’t want to eat ever again. I can’t be the stone round the neck of all who meet me. I don’t want to be. I’m not CHOOSING to be!!! When you can only fully weight bear on one leg and ‘proper’ cleaning involves climbing over a bathtub-seems tiny, it tough and the way out is downright dangerous.

The last attacker took more of my dignity but needing to push that aside when needing help in/out tub to wash. Then more comments are made on my ‘newer’ scars and weight. I have no sharp things to get by the way I had been... other’s are allowed their alcohol or cigarettes... why is mine so dramatically different and disgusting? Why is my vice the worst? Who decides these things?

Wish there was a way vanishing didn’t leave someone with clean up or work or... whatever 

Constant pain - physical and mental

I’m VERY lost in my head... in the insanity of it all.
CRPS pain has increased lately and sleep had already been suffering prior to that ... NOW? It’s VERY MUCH
‘catch it when you can’ and I feel trapped.
Trapped in a broken body.
Trapped in an overwhelmingly messed up and messed with head.
Trapped in this circle of pain, physical and mental...and a physical pain from a mental pain (I swear if a doctor talks about psychosomatic pain again I will just lie on their floor, I’d say weeping but I’ve lost that ability as of late...) (that particular pain I’m talking about has been with me for as long as I can remember-I think since the age of 8...)

Now I’m not working and I’ve been waiting 13months for an appeal by the powers that be who decided I had suddenly gained the ability to walk fine overnight and removed my mobility car... I’m more of a burden than ever.
I cannot see me working again.
Every time I think it’s going well? BAM! Kicked right back beyond the starting position in the wrong direction and not knowing which way is up...
I’m a burden on my family who love me but have their own lives.

I continue to return to the illogical logic of knowing that my birthday would be a completely tarnished date one day and that the least selfish thing I could do is not ruin another...

It’s so far away though... I missed the last opportunity.

I’ll just be a wee disgusting disappointment as ever now

Suppression Explosion

The brain is AMAZING! (It is also a complete *insert whichever word you feel encapsulates rage/confusion/terror at discovering this and trying to wrap your head round coping with the fallout).

Last year I discovered I had buried abuse so deep that I had erased entire people, time and incidents from my life… just to get by. It was a self-preservation-type thing my brain cleverly did. It did it so as to allow me to function and it did it well!!

Uncovering one was like a dam bursting…

No, my brain had not buried an abuser; it buried more than 15 -I cannot count the exact number and I don’t quiteknow why. I have been physically sick over some and unable to function well since discovering all of this.

I don’t feel quite real. I haven’t since I realised it all.

I always knew I’d been hurt. It wasn’t public knowledge or something I’d say when introducing myself, but I’d started -in the last few years, and since the ONE I refer to occurred roughly between my being 6&11…and I’m now 33? It took many many years for me to stop completely circumventing the facts.

Now? I don’t know… I can barely see from day to day anymore.

Perhaps one day I’ll be able to update this and have positive progress and recovery from the broken shell of a person that I seem to be at the moment…