Tag Archives: depression

It’s my birthday and I hope for better things!

It is my birthday today I am thirty nine and I hope that the saying “life begins at forty” is a true one!  I hope so much that with these emergency appointments I have at the hospital etc. is going to fix something and that I can have a normal life again!

There are so many things I want to do with my life, but when it is a tiring task to just get dressed and maybe vacuum a room in a day at most, it is hard to see past that.

Things I would love to do if only the health was there… obvious one would be study and work outside of the house.  I miss people interaction and I love jobs where I am in the service of others, not just my creative pursuits, of course I love my creativity and it would be lovely to have a job where creativity is a must, but generally I love jobs where I feel I am needed and relied upon for things – particularly hospitality.  I am a lovely meet and greeter, always happy to help, with a bubbly personality, professional manner and experience as head of admin and customer services. 

I often wonder if Sue Holderness remembers me, during my short time as Christmas staff at Marks & Spencer’s she would always gravitate towards my till because she said I was pleasant and she often added points to my services as Marks and Spencer’s have a point system in play for their staff to see who is performing well.  I was only there for a few days over one particular Christmas; I doubt she’d remember me!

I used to love work and if I had been allowed to keep my jobs in the past I would have.  It sounds funny to say that, because it is not a normal thing to say – but it is true, in the past many times I had a lovely job I loved dearly, but I was forced to give it up as it didn’t sit well with my mother.  For those who are new to my blog, I was micro-managed within an inch of my life by my mother who tried to isolate me for years and I only managed to get her out of my life fully in 2013, when I was twenty nine, just shortly after Henry’s 3rd birthday in fact.

Thinking differently these days, I may not go into hospitality if I had the health back though, I have other ideas.  I am not sure if starting university for a science degree and to have a science career would be something someone my age should really consider.  But it is interesting; I have an unnatural curiosity and obsession with microbiomes; but maybe that is more of a hobby thing… like gardening?

I had thought, what I would do if I found out my health problems are actually curable even if it is by 50% – I had thought what would I do with my life now?

Obviously still write and do art, but what else? 

I had thought about the concept that my lungs may allow me to once again do music and singing again and if it did, I have to say musical theatre pulls me;  Particularly writing operas or comedy musicals for the stage.  One of the things I have neglected about myself a lot since becoming ill is my love for music to the extent of practising my instruments and composing becoming non-existent.

I miss musical composition more than I miss the idea of sitting down to write a full length novel, to be honest… well a full length non-vampire or dragon novel that is.

I do know I miss sport a lot too, I was very active before getting sick – walking an average of nine miles per day, just for the fun of it and also because I am a cheapskate and walked everywhere for the sheer economy of it.  I love bowling, basketball, jogging, and cricket and wanted to take up rock climbing, to name but a few.  But one thing I did really want to get back into and that is dog agility training and judo.  I am also a true water baby and twice I nearly got into the commonwealth games in my life, once for swimming and once for judo, but shit happens.

The commonwealth audition was cancelled due to emergency life-saving mastoid surgery, which consequently ended my judo career before it even had a chance!

The swimming for the junior games was cancelled because my mother wouldn’t let me go and stay the night away from home without her and made me decline.

I know I have to think about practical things, but I do like working for charities, at least half of my previous jobs were helping disabled people, particularly those with mental learning difficulties or brain injuries.  I have a passion for helping people and fighting for their rights to lead a dignified life!

I have been in a situation myself where I have been in special needs schools for a few months in between home schooling, I also have a long history of mental health where for four years I had to go to a day care centre at Napsbury hospital for treatment as a child and schooling as well as being in a very physically vulnerable state with sensory deprivation for nearly two whole years!  I have seen two sides of people who are supposed to be “carers, in caring jobs” and it is not all good.

I went through a time as a child where I was absolutely terrified of all men, except male relatives who were close to me, I wouldn’t speak to anyone if they were a stranger for at least ten or more visits and I went into strange bouts of bulimia, anorexia and compulsive eating throughout most of my life – this cooled off a lot when I met Paul.  I was spiralling into food obsession for three years before I met him.

It is totally weird how, now I am away from the stresses which dictated my eating habits, that I have developed a sickness where I can’t eat a bunch of specific foods without pain and vomiting and some people who remember my past, have asked me on the quiet, “it’s not your old thing again is it”?  I still maintain some friendships distantly via facebook and pen palling with some of my day care compatriots, who remembers a the time where I ate half an orange and a quarter of a cheese sandwich without rushing to the bathroom and they celebrated it for me, whilst I just sat there frowning and grimacing at the fuss and the taste.

I will say though, that I am becoming more and more of a picky eater despite the dietary restrictions I am under because of my intolerances.  This does worry Paul, because with our current budget, he is struggling to provide for me.

I must maintain a gluten free and lactose free diet, I cannot eat flax seeds, I can’t have too much sugar in a day, I minimise citrus fruits, I can’t have soy, I can’t have vinegar unless I want pain (who does?), I may have a mustard intolerance as recently I am reacting against mayo and a couple of other sauces which have mustard in, I can’t have pineapple and I can’t have anything too fatty and if it is fatty it has to be because of olive oil, I must be careful with eggs, no more than 3 times a week!  I can’t have too much coconut produce either; I can only eat small amounts of beef and no more than twice a week!  I shouldn’t have tomatoes everyday either, but that one is a hard one to surrender as I like tomatoes almost with everything!  But ideally I should never have them according to doctors.  I can only have two Brazil nuts in one sitting before strange things happen to my mouth! I can only have a beverage with tannin no more than once per day and preferably not at night. So, yes, I am not fussy about all of these, this is just the foods I can’t have because my body will hurt me a lot if I do!  Because of all of this, I have according to the doctor a very low salt diet, because I don’t add salt to my cooking and he told me I need to start, because my levels are too low at times and could account for the cramps I get!

So, as perplexed as you all are, I know you are, because I have seen the faces of offline friends when I mention this to them – what the fuck do you actually eat then Tina?  Food, to put it bluntly, proper, wholesome, mostly unprocessed food, weird isn’t it?

It’s the reason I love sauerkraut so much, the salt my body needs, the cabbage is really good for you too and you get added microbes for your gut!  Ironically, my health is slightly improved for the gherkins (dill pickles) and sauerkraut I eat these days, without that being in my diet three times a week, I would actually be a lot sicker!  I know, I tested it out for a whole month and it thwacked me hard!

I think the unhealthiest thing I eat these days is the local chippy once a fortnight, because I don’t eat their battered fish, I prefer their kebabs without the bread that is!  They have their own oily sauerkraut with gherkins and pickled jalapenos and its sheer heaven with their homemade chilli sauce!  Their meat is also homemade, so they guarantee it has no gluten and lactose and they don’t spice it as much as the places in town, so it’s just like fatty lamb pates really.

My most usual food to eat for dinner is gluten free pasta with homemade chicken arribiata, pan fried salmon stir fry or sausage and bean casserole with mashed potatoes.

My most usual food for lunch is, fried tomatoes and mushrooms with gluten free toast, a smoothie, vegetable frittata, or Ham & lacto free cheddar cheese ploughman’s sandwich with gluten free bread, I know the sweet pickle has a bad product for me, but it is so little my body hardly notices too much.   I don’t have celiac disease apparently, it is an unidentified IBD.

My most usual breakfast is, air, or very rarely cinnamon gluten free porridge or just homemade fruit salad.

My snacks are nuts, celery, carrot sticks, lactose free Nutella with gluten free digestive biscuits or rice cakes, pancakes with said Nutella or lemons or honey or maple syrup or fruit compotes, fruit, or smoothies, rarely jellied pick n mix and crisps purely for the low salt days. 

When finances improve, I am excited to ditch a lot of the above for things I really love!  Such as honey nuts, dark chocolate with fruit in, fruit leathers, chicken legs, kimchi, , king prawns and the expensive fruits and veg like avocadoes, coconuts, pomegranates, figs, chickpeas, mange tout, things someone on my budget consider birthday or Christmas treats!

Well it’s a life I hope that will happen anyhow, I am trying my best to fight through it all and get that life, even if my body does seem held bent on killing me!

Happy reading!

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A scary thing happened today…

I have had ever decreasing health since 2013, little by little my body has taken more and more of life out of me; each day there is something new I can no longer do, or I have to get used to.

Today I woke up fighting, literally, fighting for breath as I coughed up copious amounts of thick white mucus, something I have unbelievably gotten used to in the last five years and though my throat was raw, I avoided my first beverage of the day for nearly ninety minutes, because I knew it wouldn’t stay down.

I got angry with myself for being like that and knowing that this mucus will take a couple of hours to clear and it was getting in the way of what I really wanted to do, I started to move around the house, clasping onto furniture as I struggled for breath, to try and get washed and dressed in spite of it.

I noticed something I never noticed before; my mucus was clearing faster but in bigger globules and although for tens of seconds I couldn’t breathe at all, it was coming at a faster rate.

I woke up around 10am, I didn’t sleep until 5am; I managed to get downstairs by 11:25am, something which in recent months is very unusual!  I wouldn’t be downstairs until 1:30pm on average, simply because my lungs would dictate the course of the day. 

This could be a one off (I have plenty days like those), but it could also be something that could make me function sooner rather than later in the day if it is not a one off. 

I was happy that by 12:30pm I could contemplate breakfast, or rather lunch as it really would be to normal everyday healthy folks.  I felt my chest had cleared enough to keep something down – another thing which is getting more and more debatable as years go on.  I am losing a tremendous amount of weight, size and muscle mass because of the sickness.

So, I made tomatoes on toast with some black pepper corns.  I wasn’t sure I’d eat two slices of toast, but strangely I did today and I kept it down.  What is more, was the fact that I ACTUALLY MADE IT!  I washed, cut, sliced and fried those tomatoes myself with no help at all, I insisted.  Things went well but then I got a little cocky after lunch had settled down and I attempted to do more.

I decided, you can’t get decent sauerkraut from the supermarket, it has to be homemade!  I wanted sauerkraut with my chicken in a wrap and salad tonight for dinner – I had that too.  But I didn’t complete making the kraut myself.  I cut the vegetables and surprised at how weak and out of practise I was doing it and it hurt, it hurt a lot, especially the kneading of the salt into the cabbage and carrots for enough time to make enough brine for it to be storable. 

Halfway through making the brine, I broke out into a cold sweat, really bad cramping pains overtook both my shoulder blades and my heart started thumping hard and I felt dizzy.  I had to go sit down and Paul had to finish the kraut for me after he took my temperature, which was 35.3, unusually low as my temperature usually sticks to around 36.8.

The pain was quite bad but it subsided after fifteen minutes rest, I nearly felt the need to go to the hospital!

I am angry and depressed I didn’t get to do what I wanted to do today, even if I have done more today than I normally would do in a day since 2019.  My life has been completely sedentary since autumn 2019, purely because I am getting sicker and sicker.  Paul is scared, but he doesn’t take me seriously when I honestly tell him, that I personally think I am dying!

I have no proof that I am, but with how I struggle to do the little things now, it makes me wonder?

I am writing this in bed at 00:33am, the day is now over and a new day has already begun.

I have been dreaming recently of large pumpkins with white bottoms and dreaming that I am dying and being made comfortable by a strange bald headed man.  Whether or not I am scaring myself about my health that it’s making me dream such things or whether or not the dreams really do have alternate meanings – who knows?  I read up online that kabbalists take dream interpretation very seriously and it is a fine art – my two types of dreams mentioned above, both mean similar things.  It means that I am metamorphosing, changing, it’s a positive change, a renewal, recognition perhaps or success?  Medical help could be on the way and my life could change through that, or I will develop a new coping mechanism for what is going on with me?

Who knows, but if the kabbalists say it’s positive, I hope they’re right!

Happy reading!

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Update on whereabouts

Where have I been again?  You may well ask, originally I couldn’t type for around 3 to 4 weeks because I somehow injured my hand, I still don’t know what happened to it.  Woke up one morning and couldn’t use it, it was so painful and I had to even change my diet to accommodate a spoon fed way of eating. 

I couldn’t use my other hand as a substitute and go down the route of cutting things with forks, because that hand is permanently disabled and doesn’t work well due to being deformed. 

I then caught a very bad head cold that made doing most things difficult and then a chest infection.  During the chest infection something then happened where my shoulder and arm lost its entire strength and I was lopsided for about 2 weeks, as there was a noticeable slack to my shoulder muscle. 

I gave up trying to do anything to the blog after all of this for the last 3 weeks because of the summer holidays and everybody who is a long term reader here knows how difficult I find working with Henry home as there is little support in keeping him out of my hair.  Not to mention, that Paul is also badly injured, so couldn’t take Henry out for walks and hiking like he’d usually would.  He has an Achilles problem we think, it’s hard to tell as he won’t see a doctor about it.

Henry starts High school for the first time on Friday and he is dreading it.

Henry has been having a lot of emotional problems in the past couple of years, quite serious anger and depression issues, but school so far has poo-pooed this as being something caused primarily by Covid isolation, but it was something that was building up around a year or two beforehand.  Since Henry was eight years of age, he has been having suicidal thoughts and that unnerves me because I have never ever known anyone as young as that to be that depressed and is not trustworthy enough when he is angry to be around sharp objects!  There is surprising little support about this primarily because of waiting lists and Covid didn’t help with that.

Until Henry actually attempts to physically harm himself in a manner of which can be officially proven, Henry is not considered an emergency case, even if he does punch himself in the face and chest really hard, because the bruising is not sufficient (whatever that means) he can wait.

Henry’s life, I admit has not been an easy one, it is no wonder he is growing up to become an angry and bitter soul.  He is a member of Warwickshire Young Carers because he has me (a sick mum) and a sort of elderly father.  Though I impose no care routine on Henry, school felt that the young carers could give him emotional support because his mother’s health and future is uncertain.

Along with this, Henry has experienced a lot of death in his father’s family and the majority of family communication from Paul’s side has stopped because certain people have passed away or they have their own illnesses or problems and cannot commit to visiting more than once a year on average.  In Henry’s small life, he has heard of nine family deaths, and four serious family illnesses.  Four of the deaths affected Henry directly because three were his main child carers when I went in and out of hospital.  There is no one we can rely on for that anymore, so basically I have to skip hospital appointments if they coincide with Henry’s holiday times.  A family friend also died of Covid recently.

Along with this we also have a problematic neighbour which makes Henry nervous to go out into the garden anymore, in fact, so do I.

I’d like to move but Henry doesn’t and Paul respects Henry’s wishes on that.

Because I don’t feel safe with this excessively nosy, rude and obnoxious neighbour, Paul and I have planned to get a dog.  We did organise a border collie with a farmer, but the breeding went wrong and they only had 2 pups which survived the birth and we have to wait another two years.  But luck has it that we may end up by Christmas with a bloodhound, because a local man wants to give away a couple of his pups to a good home for free and he said he won’t want them to go before they are 6 months of age.  It is likely to be a female bloodhound and a solid colour, very light brown or as the man calls it, yellow.

In the past I was very skilled at training dogs and was once offered a position as a police dog trainer but my mother made me turn it down, because I have to bring my work home with me and she didn’t want extra dogs in the house.

A bloodhound will be a new experience and I have done a lot of research on the breed to see if I can cope.  Physically maybe not, but if all else fails you can walk a dog with a disability scooter, lol.

But I think… though Paul disagrees and thinks I am way too optimistic…. That I am only as sick as I am because I am not motivated for doing things for myself.   I live for others; I have never lived for myself.  Paul has always endeavoured to take a lot of my responsibilities away from me because he wants to indulge in caring for me and also Henry.  So Paul doesn’t need me and neither does Henry, every time I try to do something for either of them, someone else takes over.  I guess that’s why I am so sick, it’s a form of depression – I don’t feel needed.  I don’t feel I would be missed.  I have absolutely forbidden both Paul and Henry to do anything with the dog if we get one.  Because I think, I need that needed feeling back again and I think a dog is the answer!

I am trying to find new ways to feel needed.

I know I sound like a sad bugger saying all this.

But I need to try to find something that makes me feel that I have some value.

So, I have a webcam and mic now – I am researching skill share and other things about how to set up a YouTube channel and how to create an art and writing business.

I am hoping to start the YouTube channel by January 1st, perhaps sooner; I don’t know how long it will take me to learn all this technological stuff to do it.

I’ll keep you posted.

Thanks for reading!

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Health update 12th June 2021

Because I am spending more time in bed due to my immune system having a major crash for the last week, nearly two weeks now, I have re-established my addiction to Codeword puzzles.

I seem to be completing them faster these days; I am starting to become a bit more of a word geek than I was before. 

Also, I tried to get back into playing online word games such as word tornado and scrabble on my laptop in bed as I decided I could do things in bed on my laptop as at least I would be more productive than just watching YouTube videos on TV and reading books.  But guess what?  BT decided to update this areas exchanges so internet connection has been tetchy and almost non-existent, so I can’t do that or watch YouTube on TV without a disruption every 15 minutes.

I thought only last Thursday to do this, take the laptop upstairs, play word games and update my blog in bed as I don’t like how my illness dictates to me how much work I do, because I’d rather work downstairs on the desktop computer.  Friday afternoon BT alerted us for the coming week that they will be updating everything and they apologise for any disturbances that they might cause during this time.

I would say “typical” but I am not that kind of person, because I know that certain thought patterns can affect your reality and make things happen.  But I do take it as a sign that Paul is right about the universe trying to get me to rest, because it is hard for me to sit back and rest entirely.  I have never been the kind of person who relishes in relaxing and living with Paul has been an education in that at least.

So, I am here, on my desktop again, only to update this blog and have my dinner before going back up.  I am having a really bad day with my arthritis, inflammation, ear infection and migraine.  I can barely eat because my IBD and IBS is bad too, in fact it is becoming a major concern for Paul and the doctors, because I am now eating in deficit, I am losing inches but not weight which is also confusing.

Since Christmas I have lost 3 and a half inches but no actual pounds, it is visible loss but not scalable other than measurements.  I am not exactly changing my diet either, I just physically can’t eat a whole sandwich anymore, I am having what Paul terms as micro meals or not-so-posh-nouveau-cuisine, just to eat something.  Thing is, I really need a tiny half tea plate of food around 5 times a day to be at the calories I need, but I only really get around 2 now.

My mother if she knew about this wouldn’t believe how little I am eating lately and it’s not by choice, it’s because of pain and the inability to keep things down.  If I eat a whole sandwich, I will vomit some of it back and that’s not bulimia, it’s just my body rejecting it.  I have a stupid amount of vitamin and mineral tablets I have to take daily because of this.

I joked to the doctor once about how I must be the only fat person they will know to die of malnutrition, in fact they shocked me with their reply; “it’s more common than you think”.  He said.

Let’s put it this way, my mother used to serve me up 6 to 8 fish fingers with 2 or 3 fish cakes, 2 slices of bread, half a can of beans and half a plate of chips as a regular once a week meal.  These days, she doesn’t feed me; she hasn’t seen me in years.  But now if she still knew me she would be shocked that I could only be served 2 fish fingers, two slices of bread, 1 fish cake, 1 spoon of beans, 1 tong serving of chips and I won’t eat everything before my stomach plays up!  This is a bad example of my regular food intake, because that is what I am eating today.  Usually I have stir fry, salad, and veggie frittata (despite egg problem), casserole with veg, or chili (for some reason my stomach can cope with chili despite the disease, which is baffling to everyone).

Yesterday I had quinoa, with beef chili, loads of Mediterranean vegetables, yesterday’s meal was the biggest meal I ate without a problem all week, but I still only ate half of it, but at least it was around 800 calories.

Which was a big contrast to the day before that, as that dinner was 2 slices of vegan cheese on toast, onion, tomatoes, peppers, and a side of celery and carrot and that was it, I couldn’t eat anything else the whole day!

But this has been normal for almost 2yrs, just got worse around 3 months ago.

I’m permanently exhausted and in pain and I am bruising way too easily too.

In a nutshell, my life sucks.

Happy reading!

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Am I wrong? A poem

I don’t like life

It hurts too much

What is the point of living if I can’t do such and such?

Why am I here?

Why do I live?

What does a person like me have to give?

What is the point of carrying on?

So I can sit and write you more depressing songs?

Or tell me please… am I wrong?

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Gardening was a help

My depression was getting better and the suicidal thoughts were abating on a huge scale three years ago, because of gardening.  Last year my neighbour has got into a new relationship with a man who is creepy and weird and likes to harass and make me uncomfortable when in my garden to such an extent I haven’t touched or been in my garden to do anything since September 2020. 

The thing is, Paul says there is nothing we can do about a neighbour who is like that unless he becomes an actual physical threat, unless we record him on film doing things.  We don’t have the money to set up cameras with microphones to keep tabs on his behaviour so Paul more or less has a shrug it off attitude about it.  So I don’t garden anymore.

I miss it a lot and I wish we could move away, but Paul just can’t.  We can’t afford to for one thing and for another, this house is suffering from rising damp and the roof is broken in two parts.  We also have persistent black mould, which we have to constantly clean away.  The house is worth good money, but we have to knock 40k off it because of its condition, there are no houses in this area we could buy with what would be left for us, on the sale of this.  Well, not a house in which I could have a garden, there are houses but their gardens are literally 10ft by 10ft, they are basically courtyards of townhouse terraces.

It wouldn’t be so bad but this neighbour is also wilfully destructive, he will lean over the fence and literally cut anything he sees peeping up, whether it is leaning into his garden or not.  He has leant over the fence quite a lot on some cases and nearly fell into our garden to do so in order to cut branches of our pine and ash.  He has started to do something I don’t like as well, which is he is trying to reach over to get my blackberry and train it on a chicken wire netting he has placed on his fence, but Paul keeps going out to snip it just as he thinks he has a chance to get it.

He is a rotten man, there are other things but I won’t mention them.  He also accidentally on purpose stumbles off our shared garden path in the front garden to stomp all over my forget-me-nots, dahlias, lilies, nasturtiums and I have caught him trying to take tomatoes, strawberries and mint from the garden too.

He doesn’t like birds sitting on the fence; he will scare them away or spray them with hoses.  He knows we have two bird feeders and like birds in our garden, but he makes sure they don’t stay long!

My cousin taught me a saying once and I laughed at it, it really does apply to this man “that I can’t believe he was the sperm that won”!

Ugh

I miss gardening and I miss lounging in the garden for hours on end reading from April to October every year.

I really have a strong desire to create a food forest garden, but with a nature hating neighbour like that, it is not going to be easy.  Our gardens are 30ft wide and 50ft long in the back garden; he has decked three quarters of his garden and terraced it making the other bits just lawn. 

He is also an insect squisher.  It is hard for someone like me who loves nature and wants to protect it and rewild spaces with my silly hippy idealisms, to see that someone like that exists only to be destructive as it would seem. 

I am particularly sad that I am very passive and I am not known for being particularly assertive, for me to live with a man who is the same.  I feel there is no defence against such a rotter and I have heard him loudly proclaim in big raucous laughter to his brother and friends that we don’t care what he does to our garden and that makes me feel very hurt and angry and sad.

I asked Paul to get some kind of advice about this, but he seems to think it’s all hopeless, there is no one and nothing we can do against such a person.

So I don’t know what to do.

I hope he doesn’t stay there, but it looks like he might be there for a long haul.

Happy reading I suppose.

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The art of indifference

Struggling with depression on a major scale in the past four days, it could either be because of my immune system crashing around me, my hormones or the fact that there is something I miss deeply and no one understands.  I am desperate to express myself on this matter, but I can’t without coming across as nuts, so I don’t bother.

No one understands the kind of person that I am, I have tried in the past to talk it through with other people, but let me tell you, there is only so much another person’s mind can take, before they switch off and decide perhaps you’re too messed up to talk to again?

Yet to me the only thing that remains abundantly clear to me and would be very healing to me is this… just talking freely with a non-judgemental person, whilst snuggling with said person and being loved, genuinely loved, without obligations for anything other than my reciprocation to them.

The kind of person I am, the liberal-mindedness that I have as well as my spirituality makes me a difficult person to befriend. 

The notion that I see everyone as family, but will avoid certain people if they make me feel supressed or judged in any way, is something that some people find hard. 

The fact that I believe in open relationships and I am bisexual and I am quite open about my likes as dislikes as I am not ashamed of who I am, so why should others be?

 The fact that I am both a humanist and a spiritual person; which cannot really describe my beliefs as I am my own unique mix: 

The idea too that I am healing from a huge mass of abuse and hiding a truly awful history and only tell people the thin surface of my life via getting in touch with my inner child and creative self, which means to onlookers think I am an irresponsible weird, immature, Pollyanna who is a tad too spooky for their liking. 

The idea I grow and eat weeds in my garden and let most of my garden be wild and talk to the wildlife that I come across as freely as any child. 

The idea that I get hyperactive after consuming candies and I react like any high child would!

The fact that I get so absorbed by my own imagination and blocking out the bad stuff in my mind from the past with fantasy after fantasy, to the extent I lose track of time and sometimes forget how old I am. 

All of this… is hard for other people. 

Which I find ironic, because I have actually lived through harder things that just listening and observing someone healing themselves!  It’s quite funny really, that people have the audacity to tell me, that they find my life too hard for them, that they have to leave.  Don’t they realise that in order to heal and be better, they need someone to care, but someone who can be impartial, just a listener, just a support with kind words and affirmations.  That just sharing who you are as raw as possible, should build such a strong friendship, a bond to last?  It’s not someone trying to offload their burden onto your shoulders, that is impossible, you could never feel as bad as that person feels, because your experiences are different! 

Until those moments, a lot of those people in my past were very nearly, very close friends with me.  But they, like everyone, wants to know you more and want to pry into your secrets, but then they run away when once they know the true past you’ve hidden from them!  My past is not criminal, my past is not the past of a junkie or a drunk or an abuser of any sort, my past is the past of a victim.  That is all.  I could understand if my personal past was more sordid, but it’s not, that’s what baffles me the most! 

I often want to shout at people who decide they can’t cope with what they know about me to the extent they can’t look at me anymore, but I don’t because I am very passive by nature.  I am very accepting that nobody really cares and I am alone on an emotional level in the world and perhaps always will be.

I want to shout out “Well what about me?  I can’t do that, gee thanks for leaving me to cope on my own then, you coward”!  Who needs friends like those anyways?

Then there are those who say they would stick around, if only I cried.  It’s the fact that I don’t cry that gets people thinking it’s a lie.  They don’t consider that showing emotions and crying is actually extremely bad in my family and that being an emotional person is beaten out of you!  You are around violence so much that you learn when someone shouts at you, that you don’t take their eyes off them a moment, you stare unblinking at them and don’t show emotion, because it could be dangerous if you did.  Much better to switch everything off whilst staying fully alert at all times! 

So, because I don’t cry, they think I lie. 

It is this reason that I find it hard to truly heal, even therapists have had to give up my case because they too, couldn’t cope and they were in tears, whereas I was passing them the tissues with dry eyes unmoved by them!

Ironic

This is why I often dream of suicide, dream of starting again.

But I am terrified.

Because if life is a lesson that I have to learn before I am allowed better things, then do I have to live through all of this again in another life?  Hell no!

I can’t!

My soul will surely self-destruct if that were true!

Thing is, I do cry.  I cry all the time, alone in my bed when no one is around.  I cry alone in the spare room, if it is night time, because its ingrained into me, no one should see you being weak, not ever, not no how!

Happy Reading I suppose, I wasn’t happy writing this and felt I should delete it, but who knows, maybe you’ll care?

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Mental health update 26th May 2021

The thing about mental illness is that it grabs you and sometimes even the sufferer doesn’t even know why or what caused them to cry at that precise moment.  I have been having times like this a lot over the last few weeks, but in the past couple of days in particular it has been really a big struggle.

For the first time in almost two years the suicidal thoughts have come back, but along with this is a reasoning thought, that if I were to try and commit suicide right now, I am likely to be saved and therefore my life would be worse to live in the aftermath because of whatever damage the attempt may have done to me, I would then have to live with along with everything I am trying to escape from.  I am already under scrutinised watch, because of my past breakdown a few years back, so it is quite probable, that I will be saved – whether I like it or not.

I am in the situation that I know why I feel this way, but I really don’t have anyone to talk to who is not going to be conflictive with me about those matters to talk it through with.  I am too deaf to use a telephone helpline and I don’t really have enough privacy to talk about matters online.  I barely have the privacy to type this here now.

Well, Paul knows how I feel, but he is painfully irritating with his responses and usually end up making me feel worse, he isn’t the sort of person you can rely on for too much emotional bolstering or betterment.  He knows I think this way about him, and yes, it does put a strain on our relationship – especially as I try and tell him that he shouldn’t feel emotionally responsible for me despite this.  But he always proclaims that he does anyway and how could he not? 

He is in denial of his own depression, I know this, because instead of trying to help me see the Brightside of life or help me take my mind off things, he is one of these people who will wallow with me and we both sit there in our pit of despair, talking ever deeper and concentrating ever more on the crap that’s in our lives – that’s not a place of healing.  Alternatively on his more positive days, as he does have them occasionally, he will talk to me about stupid dreams of “if we win the lottery” or “if we built our dream house”, those conversations helps him in his dark times, those dreams, but it just makes me a whole lot worse!  There are times and I am sure he knows it by the looks I give him, that when he talks of me of those big pie in the sky dreams, that I just want to take those dreams he talks about and shove them down his throat.  Because, who wants to be reminded of things that are unreachable when you are in a time of struggle?

My problems are not primarily financial, that is something he can’t get his head around, I think.

My main focus is the lack of love, the lack of attention, friendship and family.  I am also very sick and I am tired of that, I am tired of constant pain, constant illness and no one to sit there and snuggle with me for more than just five minutes a time, because no one has the time.  No one has the time for me.

I talk about this to Paul, but he is so exhausted all of the time and struggling with his own injuries and pain as he is my main carer and Henry’s main carer and the household carer, that when I do talk to him, within twenty minutes he has literally fallen asleep during our conversation and wakes up with a jerk when I probe him about it.

I know I am a selfish cuss, because he struggles to balance everything for me, but he really could help himself a lot more by communicating with people who are willing to help him, but he doesn’t.  He just plods along doing all of this and coping with all of this on his own and I do literally nothing.

He is 27yrs my senior, I am terrified of how I will live if he dies.  That’s how selfish I am.  I do love the fellow, I do, but I am shit scared of what will I do if he goes?

I can’t do a thing for myself these days, on an emotional and mental health level I could barely anyway, but now the body is falling apart, I can barely even cook for myself these days.

We have no one.  We only have two adult nephews who visit once or twice a year and that is all.  We have nobody, not even a reprieve of a friend who’ll come to tea anymore.  Not since I have got too sick to reciprocate and Covid has made socialising with professional’s non-existent now.

I am ultimately desperate for two things, to move out of this house into a house that is not riddled with rising damp and holes in the roof and the ceiling literally falling apart in some rooms and I am desperate for more love and attention, especially long snuggles!

Oh I could add a third, to have a decent allergen free diet on a consistent basis, not having 2 weeks of feast and 2 weeks of famine in every month, which is how we live now.  Well, I say we, Paul and Henry eat properly, I don’t, because I am the one with the intolerances.  Gluten, lactose and occasionally egg, flax, pineapple and a few others; Gluten free foods are fine if they don’t contain flax, but most do.  My body can’t cope with chocolate more than once a week either, or beef and my body can’t cope with a high fat diet, which makes things very difficult on a diet front these days.

When I went through a phase of anorexia as a teenager, I actually ate more then that I do on the famine weeks in the month and that scares Paul, but the doctors don’t batter an eyelid.  I am still overweight you see and I am nearly a woman in her 40s.  They don’t take the food problem seriously – if I had been 8 stone, maybe they would!

Yesterday all I had eaten up until 5:35pm (the time I am writing this post) is 1 slice of gluten toast (because we are struggling with finding decent gluten free locally in the past few weeks) and 3 slices of bacon.  Later I will have a cereal bowl size of tuna pasta with new potatoes and herbs; the pasta is at least gluten free.  Because of the toast today, it will mean tomorrow I will wake up coughing up phlegm for an hour and my asthma and blood pressure will be bad.  But I needed quick food; I was feeling light-headed, shivery and headachy.

The food wasn’t ideal and I feel sick since, but I was hungry.

Anyway, this is just another bad day for me and I needed to get it off my chest.

Maybe tomorrow will be different?

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Monitoring depression with reading status

I haven’t read much for several months due to illness and chronic depression.

When I read it usually means I have an interest in the world around me and a zest for life, so I am more likely to read a lot and quite quickly, but when I don’t it usually means my depression has set in again and I am thinking dark suicidal thoughts again.  It is easily monitored if you know me, you will notice a drop in my books read pile and won’t get to see me reading much during those times because I get into the mind-set of what is the point?

Although tragic I suppose it is a funny idiosyncrasy of mine.  You can tell how depressed I am by how slow or fast I read and whether or not I read at all – just check my goodreads activity if you are curious about what is going on in my mind at the time!  I will add you as a goodreads friend too, if you want.  https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/8725823-tina

The past two weeks has been pretty good in comparison to the past several months.

During a mentally stable time I can read 3 to 7 books in a week and about 3 or 4 magazines, during a bout of depression maybe I will read approximately 30 – 70 pages a day, but during really dark times I struggle to read 50 pages a week if anything at all!

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A dying spirit

I need to get this off my chest, I apologise if the following becomes a long-winded rant and it is not my intention.

But I simply can’t do it anymore – I cannot live up to other people’s expectations and other peoples idea of what is or is not morally correct or what is or is not true; Everything that I talk about regarding my current life and my past are all true in my eyes, but a lot of people will deny that it is the truth and I can understand why they would lie about that – they are trying to socially protect themselves because they treated me wrong and don’t want the ramifications of how others may perceive them for it.  I appreciate their feelings on this, but I won’t hide the truth, I won’t keep deleting things just because the truth fucking hurts them, they never take into account how much their actions have hurt me so why the fuck am I so bloody accommodating to them?

I have rights too, I have a right to express myself anyway I blooming need to in order to heal.  Living a life of quiet pacification is literally killing me as a person and me as an artist/writer.

Living the life that my previous abusers want me to, is killing the person that I am in every way shape and form that a person can be!

I took on this blog back in winter of 2012 purely as to act as a form of therapy for myself as recommended by my therapist, he suggested I talk freely about everything I want to regarding my life, he recommended that I also use it to bring back the creative person I was again.  It worked until some people found out a few things about my mum they never knew before and they like defensive little minions went and told her and defended her and grouped up on me via telephone and emails to hound me to tell everybody who reads my blog that everything I said was a lie.  They wanted me to lie about the truth I told – they demanded then that I go to London again and at a family gathering literally grovel for my mother’s forgiveness in front of them!  I am quite serious about what I just said; they did demand this of me!

Every time I say something about them on my blog, I do run the risk of anyone in my family still sticking around to read what I am saying, relaying and potentially getting telephone calls and emails again, which is why I had to change the telephone number and we are considering moving because of this, because I can’t be silent anymore.  I need to express everything I have gone through and I feel it is my calling to help others who have gone through the same coercive upbringing as I have, by talking about my past.  A coercion that I was raised in is quite unusual but not unheard of and many people who have experienced this kind of abuse rarely talk about it, because of how violent a large amount of people can get if they hear of it.  You see it is usually lead by one individual who has a large social circle who will act like posse to reign in the abused child if they start getting out of hand or rather, start becoming independent and so-called rebellious to their clique ideologies. 

It rather like living with a mafia minded family with an extended social circle of friends all of whom think alike, like a big extended hive mind. 

This kind of abuse is hard to deal with for a lot of therapists; I have never found one who has been able to help me.  They all suggest that various people of whom have taken a part in controlling me should go and see them, but who the fuck will go up to their abusers and say “you know what?  My therapist wants to see you as I seem relatively stable in comparison to you guys”.  Lol – no one is going to do that and the therapist appreciates that for safety reasons it is probably best not to suggest it.

You know how badly the revelation to my mother has affected me? 

I became for a long time now, primarily a poet who occasionally dips into abstract impressionistic paintings, because I have been scared to talk about anything anymore.  I have even been told that some of my novels I used to write, that the family often used to read, that they see now that some of the things in my fiction work could actually be based on my supposed “poor abused childhood fantasy life”, to a certain extent a few of the themes in my stories are based on my own personal experiences, but I understand enough to know what is true and what isn’t.  That is my fiction.  The stuff I talk about regarding my life is TRUE and I state this quite clearly, the message has not been mixed!

Because I am struggling to appease my abusers so they don’t come back into my life in an aggressive way, I have almost ignored a lot of my creative expression via words and non-fiction posts.  This has led to me becoming so severely depressed that it is affecting my health badly.  I have a lot of problem with mobility of the whole of my left side of the body and I have extreme insomnia and hypersomnia – what I mean is, I can’t sleep for like 30 hours and then when I do I can’t wake up for 15 hours and sleeping comes randomly at any time and once I feel just a tiny bit tired, it is almost like I have collapsed into a coma.  Nobody can wake me up, not even Henry having a tantrum on the bed next to me; it is like I have died!  Quite often, the last thing I think about when I go to sleep is “I hope I die in my sleep – I don’t want to wake up, I don’t like the burden of my memories”.

My appetite is dead, I only eat when extremely hungry now and it is usually just one meal per day and around the side of a sandwich, coincidentally I am losing a huge amount of weight pretty quickly and my hair is around 60% white now.

To say the suppressors are literally killing me by using my own mind against me is an understatement.  I find no joy in anything anymore.  Everything about the sweet, bubbly, fun, obedient, passive, quiet, little Tina everybody once knew is dead.

In trying to force me to be their idea of perfect instead they have made me their idea of a waste of space.

For my health and sanity sake I have to heal the only way I know how.  So I am taking a risk, if they get back into my life again somehow, so be it, I am ready for the repercussions because the alternative is death anyway.  I am going to die someday anyway, why is sooner no better than later?  Would I rather die in secret of how I died and be a mystery to all who knew me forever, or do I want to die in a way where other people can understand me and understand my situation and perhaps, just maybe, stop this from happening to other people?

I know which one I have picked.

The thing is – before they interfered and demanded me to delete and shut up, I was only sharing what I thought was the minor stuff, the stuff that isn’t too big to shout about.  The stuff that is easy for my readers to digest – but now they’ve done this, maybe it is time for the real big stuff, the stuff that makes my therapists cry?  That stuff I kept to myself, that stuff I never revealed and I don’t think people like my big brother, understand there is an even darker side to our mother, than even he realises!

I don’t like talking about that stuff, because I hate remembering the really, dark, dark stuff, but how I express it here, sometimes it comes out sub consciously through my abstract impressionistic art and the images I paint are also not easy to digest for a lot of people.

But I think it is time to just be me in every way shape and form and not hide from myself anymore.  I can’t.  Shutting me away in every way possible is suffocating my spirit and body to death, I need to free myself and that makes taking big scary risks!

Because I am pretty damned sure, since November, my body and spirit is preparing to die.  I am convinced of it and I need to stop this process – not for me, but for my boy.  I care only for him, not these coercive “I have a problem with your life and truth” assholes!  No one can have a bigger problem with my life and truth than ME!  Get over yourselves you control FREAKS!

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