This morning...

have woken up cross and with what MOMD calls my 'grumpy pants' on. I do not want to get out of bed, and convince myself that as there is a lion on the loose, it is better not to get up, but just to stay here and not encounter the lion of Essex, realising of course that Essex is many hundreds of miles away, but better safe than sorry. Gloom, on reading the news to discover that the lion of Essex turned out to be a large ginger tom cat and that all is well. Try to find other reasons not to get up... I know that the reason I really don't want to get up is that I have to go to heart and soul bearing therapy, and that I really don't want to go... have stern word with myself, and carefully remove foot from under warm and cuddly quilt to see if it is warm enough to get up....bahhh... it is, and I scoot to kitchen to make strong coffee and make pot noodle for breakfast. Ha, the flippin' sun is shining, well that might tempt me out, but still not sure about therapy. It is the last one of the compassionate mind therapies today. I have bought a card for the pyschologists who are running it, but feel I should go buy flowers or something. Then argue that this is their job so why should I? Guess they might expect me to say thank you with flowers and card and end up in muddle. Take coffee and pot noodle back to bed... stuff the sunshine, I am staying here.

Dream of living on a deserted island, just me and endless beaches... but no kettle, no coffee and no pot noodles, huh... dream turns into nightmare, and I decide to arise from from my pit.

Stuff countless pills in mouth and swallow with strong espresso, wait for things to seem better... no, not working.... hmm, maybe if I go and sit on step and have a quick fag, things will appear better, but cigarette makes me feel sick...back to bed, swallow sleeping tablets and give up....there is no pit, there are no dragons, but maybe the most compassionate thing to do is just to give today a miss and wake up tomorrow.

Ooooooeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr............

I feel really really poorly.  Poorly in the body, not the confused brain. Simply have no energy, finding it hard to stay awake at all,  and getting unbearably hot. Have managed to sleep through daytime tv til 1pm, which isn’t too difficult on a normal day, but today eeeeeeeeewwww…. Horrid.

Felt I needed to post, to put yesterdays post into perspective, if you see what I mean.

When I emailed Oliver Colvile and Steve Waite, Oliver Colvile arranged a meeting with me, and I posted about what happened there. But I had heard nothing from Steve Waite at all, until Friday, when I was lying in the sun on the boat, with no access to the Internet, and obviously my email!

My previous post was two emails which must be from him, via admin, I guess. Interesting stuff, at least the second one was, and when I keep my eyes open for longer than two minutes,  I will respond to accept proposal that I help with the policy.

In the meantime, I think I will not attempt more than staying horizontal, drinking nothing stronger than coffee, and try to sleep off whatever bug this is.

Much love x

What to do....?

I have spent much of the past three days wondering how to put my case to my MP? Infact, I have spent much of the past three days in tears wondering how on earth I can explain anything, when I have battered myself so badly with a razor, that the only thing I can do at the moment is to hide inside (thanks to Bev, who came to see me and was so non-judgemental and kind). Linda was right in her comment, I am here to put to rights the things, which other people with mental health problems cannot articulate as well. But, how can I explain to an MP, and this makes me cry now, why it is so important, and just how unjust so much is for people with mental health illness, when I have mashed myself up so much? I don't think I can make a valid point when look like I have been pushed through a food blender, to someone who will presumably not have much experience of total nutters (I have read everything there is to read about him on Internet, and he doesn't seem to have any published experience of us fruit cakes), and anyway, I will probably just sit in his office, cry for half and hour then get detained by the Police on their damned section 136 on my walk home. It does all seem so hopelessly pointless. Who am I, got retired out of a job I was damned good at because I am a nutter,to think I can change the world?
Think I will go for a fag and coffee and see if I can get some inspiration for a second.
Well, there you go, a quick espresso, and a rollie, and I think I have it. If I don't do it, no bugger else will, so I shall, even though I am a mess.....

Here's to espresso's, rollies, and loads of vodka, I SHALL CHANGE THE WORLD!

Once upon a time.....

....sadly, I have to miss the plot, because it is libellous, and the end isn't happily ever after either.
There are times when 'manic defense against chronic dysphoria', seems not only impossible, but also utterly pointless. Not the writing, the writing helps, but the condition. The fight to remain well against all odds, seems more and more like putting myself in an undefended trench whilst the enemy fire from all sides with ever increasing power.
God, Buddah, my CPN, Psychiatrist, therapists.. etc etc know how hard I try to do the right thing and to stay safe, not only from myself but also from those who have made it their lives work to manipulate, corrupt, abuse and take what they want (you can refer to the entry about fault and blame too!).
But those selfish souls have won, I give in. From now onwards they can do what they want, there is no justice, no end, no closure to this.

I will move far away, away from them all, their memories and their poison, and live in a yurt or a finca, with a few chickens and a goat, and plant seeds. I will write poetry and be regarded as slightly odd by my distant neighbours,so they will leave me alone. Occasionally I will go to an Internet cafe and write my blog, and drink good coffee.

But for now, today, I am taking my house rabbit, Dave, and my tent and I am going to practise living where no one knows me. I am going to go camping. I am going to behave slightly oddly, so that I am left alone. I will drink copious amounts of vodka, and sing loudly, and very badly. I will write my blog on bits of paper bags, and update when I return.

In the meantime I hope you all are well, are loved and are safe.

Much love x