Oh FFS…

Woman man or modern monkey
Just another happy junkie

Fifty pounds
Press my button
Going down

Trigger warning: Lets go with drug abuse and see how that goes.

I think my wife summed it up pretty well with the statement “You have hit a new low”. I have a grinder. I imagine it is pretty effective with weed but did you know you can also use it to grind pills into a fine powder? well, I discovered this yesterday.

I’m so sick and done with feeling like this. They did change my meds and increase one of them. But its just. Meds are not the only solution. I need the therapy that goes along side it. I’ve asked and begged them to speed up the waiting list but its just running into a brick wall. I just have to wait and have a half-life until I get the help I need. I was so desperate to get away from feeling constant fear and paranoia, sick that I can’t leave the house, sick of just having the same medication. Its great. But its been more than a decade of taking anti-psychotics, narcotics and drink. I’ve been clean from drugs, uncontrolled drinking and self harm for over a year.

Snorting lines of prescription meds to just to evoke an emotion is a new low. Plus it filled my nose full of the fillers they mix pills with. Nose bleeds and constant pain for a few hours was TOTALY fucking worth it. Thats sarcasm. It was a cry for help but to myself. I did tell the wife because she was probably going to guess something was up with the constant snoting.

I’m ok, had a hell of a headache last night but all the stuff has passed through. Today I have kept myself busy cleaning the house and annoying the dog & cat with music.

I’ve taken some promazine. That should help. Takes the edge off.

Howdy

SO I havent resorted to drinking yet which is always a plus. I had another wobble. These past few months have been relentless with them. I know I’m supposed to realise that wobbles happen, you execute the care plan and then it stops before flairing up again. Some days great, other days irrational thoughts overload! Medication plays 10% but then the rest is up to you to work through. Which in all fairness I am actually trying to do.

An example being, I have developed this amazing problem wehrein I can’t leave the house unattended or only if I know people won’t see me. I get heart palpatations from just looking outside. I think people are talking about me, pointing and I can hear them shout things. My brain being somewhat trained realises this is a chemical imbalance of some sort. I feel the fear no less stronger knowing that by the way. Hence why I call it irrational. My plan of attack is Promazine. A rapid acting anti-psychotic which complements the others that I’m on. I take a spoonfull and sit for 15 mins while it kicks in. I then look out of the window again. Everything is blurry but some how its a bit safer now. I can walk around the block with the dog, keeping my eyes and gaze down, its ok. I have to push myself to do it but thats the working through your problems part. I manage the first 5 minutes by doing it one minute at a time. If I get to a point where the next minute is impossible, I turn around and walk back.

Its been 2-3 months of this now and its getting rather annoying. The fact that I cannot control my emotions or to a certain degree, my thought patterns, is really frustrating. I KNOW people arent talking about me. But trust me, they are! I don’t want to go out there because people will follow me and shout abuse as they walk past. The feeling of dread now consuming my stomach. I mean honestly. Can’t even control an emotion even when faced with overwhelming evidence that you should be feeling something else. No control. Mental.

And that just triggered me. FML.

I’ve got an appointment for assessment on Friday morning with the specialist again. I’m dreading it. Its at the hospital.

Hello

So it happened again. I fell off the face of the earth again but alas I have now returned. I’ve not done a post recently as I’ve been busy sorting out my mental health stuff which was overdue a collapse.

Life has been ticking along. Kids are now in school again and life is starting to go normally again. I even managed to get out of the house a few times which has helped.

Ugh. Sat here for over an hour staring at the screen trying to type something. Anything. I’ve resorted to music blasting in my ears to hopefully get me moving and block some other the more sinister thoughts out.

Must be desperate rocking out to Something Corporate.

Gold Finger now. Marginally more acceptable.

I dont know why I always have to take something to feel better and be me. Unless its the feeling of not being me and thats what I like. Its always take an extra pill, or take that pill and you will feel better. Its horrible because it does make me feel better but its also a negative way of being positive.

Need to resist.

Merde.

The Update

Hey guys,
Its been a couple of weeks since I’ve had a chance to do a proper post. Not that I havent been wanting to, so please take that into consideration for my absence. We managed to sneak away on Sunday to Scarborough for a night. This place is my spiritual home. By the sea. Relaxing and watching the kids have a great time. Especially when we tied the visit in with a trip up the road to Whitby. Home of Dracula at the Abbey. So yes, we had a lovely time and came back late on Monday. The kids are heading back to school next week. I have mixed feelings. Usually I welcome them going back because then I can get back to working proper hours but its been nice looking after them for the summer holidays. Sometimes not so much but even then, yeah, they can go back now 😉

There is change in the wind as well. I’ll be shifting my business from one direction to another. Actually more tuning it to point at something else rather than what I’m currently doing. This is in part to make it profitable but it means I have to reduce my charity work which has been 90% of my time. Its a shame but I have my reasons. That’ll be transistioning over the next month or so. This also means leaving my office but need to get it emptied first.

Guilt. It is truly interesting feeling. One of the more complex ones for me to work out and act on. Usually I can swallow pretty big pills and never hear from them again. Sometimes I’ll tease some memories out of the box. The moment it emerges from the box it gets infected. An emotion is assigned to it without any choice, its randomly whatever my brain feels like doing. So for example, I could have a happy memory locked away somewhere. A trigger will happen which causes it to pop up. Instead of happy, every other type of emotion is matched to it. B being born was amazing. The same time I was at rehab and escaped for the hospital to him being born. I’m happy but sad. Actually when I think about it, its like a seesaw. For every positive there is a negative. That negative tends to be felt more than the positive. For some reason the negative always wins over the positive. I guess thats where my brain chemistry comes into it. My ability to infect a memory. Having an impulsive nature doesn’t help. I supress it to the point where it does affect my life but its safer this way. It keeps manic moods under some form of regulation.

The reason why I mention guilt is because it is an overriding negative emotion that I struggle with. The main problem aside from above is the fact that I can feel guilty for the wrong thing and not the right things. Bad things I have done in the past, as far as I can tell, get put through a filter which then decides to either keep it in my conscious mind or to put it on the back shelf to play with later. When it comes through the filter an emotion is marked against it but this is overwritten when its retrieved and I’m left confused. I robbed a shop, I feel happy about this but I should feel guilty. My brain pushes it to the back of the line. Trigger event. Memory comes back. I should feel guilty but instead I now find myself experiencing sadness. Sadness but not over the damage caused but because I could of done more. Argh. I’m terrible at explaining things and trying to get my point accross.

Well since its only you that this blog aims to help later in life, it doesn’t matter too much as you would know what I was wanting to say.

Man I could do with some rum when my brain starts analysing itself. I’m trying as hard as I can to improve the way I think, I read up on it and try different things. Getting it out on the screen has helped the most so far. That way I can look back and see if I have made any progress.

Stay tuned for the next oddly strange thought ridden post!

Why does my brain do this?

I’m angry. Frustrated and demotivated to the point of throwing in the towel. Not with my day to day life but my work life.

I overheard a group of people at the job centre say “He can’t be that bad if he’s self-employed” amongst other things which are on my records. I was sat on the chairs and they were huddled around a computer. “It says here that” and “Oh we will have to question that” and a few other things. I thought they were talking about someone else till they said my name.

It shouldn’t effect me but it does. I work hard to not be my mental illness, have a normal life not locked away somewhere and this just feels like undermining everything that I am doing. Its taken a decade to get to this point. If we turned the clocks back 10 years it would be a very different story. I couldn’t think straight, I went off the rails with everything and it was one big mess. If I didn’t have D and then kids by my side I wouldn’t be the person I am today. They stood by me every time I messed up and they understood mostly what was going on. We have had to make massive changes in both living and attitudes to be at the point where I can run this new community interest project. I just didn’t need someone dumping on me whilst I wasn’t happy to be there in the first place.

I work 16 hours running a community interest project. I break even most months and everything is declared to job centre people so everything is legit and by the book. I can’t press myself to do it full time as I’m not ready for that, its hard work as it is getting motivated and focussed. They hinted that I might have to apply for real work and I tried to explain that I work 16 hours rather than being sat on benifits twiddling my thumbs. The doctors and consultants say I shouldn’t be working but I can’t do that anymore. So a year ago I started this. And its survived. I’m sure everything will come crashing down when they make all these new changes and then I’ll be forced between keeping my sanity and a full time job. The last job I applied for and got fired me before I started due to my disability. So yeah. That’ll be a barel of laughs.

Today I’m at the office working away fixing things. Wish there was air con or something as it gets very hot in here. Especially when there are more than one of you. B is at the sports club whilst S is with her dad down south for a week. D is having a “me day” which she truly deserves.

Might try and escape early. Depends on if I can get my head to think straight again.

We all went to Wales on Sunday, well me, D and B. We took his bike and we went to Colwyn Bay. Where we used to live, well, near it. It was nice because we got there a bit late in the day so all the tourists had left. We even managed to bag a table at an outdoor cafe for munchies. B decided to give us a heart attack by cycling a mile away without telling us. We thought he headed back to the car as agreed but alas he went right instead of left. Minutes away from calling the police. But glad he came back before that became a thing.

We stopped at the house where my dad used to live. They have totally changed how it looks and it looks amazing! I was sad to see it again because of the memories but I’m so happy that someone has taken it, fixed it up and then built extensions, new roof and all sorts. Hopefully mum and dad are smiling, where ever they might be.

Random QOTD

What makes you cry?

This is a weird one for me. I cry. A lot. But not over sad stuff, sad stuff you would expect tears a plenty but no. I think its to do with my emotional irregulation. I can watch a movie. For agruments sake, “Armageddon”, I cried so much during the scene where Harry called his daugthers boyfriend “Son”. BUT funerals or expected events in which you would usually shed a tear? they just don’t happen for me.

Son running up to me saying he loves me or I start thinking about him, my wife and strong memories and yeah I cry. Hard. You sort of get this ” Why can you just cry” going on in your head and its just blah, nothing happens but the moment its something family related and I’m wondering why I can’t control it.

I think its good to cry. Healthy. To get to that emotional state of out pouring and it is a relief in a lot of ways being able to do that. Of course all the judgement comes with it but still a vital human trait I find.

How about you? can you cry at will? or maybe not at all? do you wish you could?

Mum and Dad

So today was the day Dad died a couple of years ago. Mum died a few years before Dad on 24th August 2014. Dad had dementia and we looked after him after Mum died from lung cancer.

As you’ve come to expect from me I have mixed feelings with them both. I thought it only fitting that I break cover on the blog and put a photo up of my family at B’s christening. Dad on the left and mum is wearing the red dress.

I wanted to make a note this year about him. So here is the speech I made at his funeral.

Good afternoon, thank you for coming to celebrate the life of George. He truly led an extraordinary life.

For the avoidance of doubt, Dad was born in Glasgow. The accent never left or weakened over his life.  For those of us close to him, we learned the need to nod and agree at key moments when he spoke. I often referred to myself as his translater after mum died, giving warnings to his glasgow humour for which he was very well known.

A loyalist, a die hard Rangers fan who went hand in hand with his Orange Order marching; he always did things his way even if they drove everyone else insane. From rejecting the freemasons for the lodge, speaking his mind when others wouldn’t, never scared to be who he wanted to be or do what he wanted to do. He was unique, he lived his life and he lived it well.

Starting life as an engineer in the shipyards of the clyde. Working side by side with a now famous Billy Connolly, who was apparently lazy and up his own ar…backside. He worked on the QE2, then a British nuclear submarine where he saw Britain’s nuclear deterrent up close and personal. How he didn’t throw a spanner at one, I’ll never know such was his humour. He worked in many countries all over the world. He was a professional footballer playing in America at one point. Then the next he was working in Africa, tormenting German contractors. This was all trivial  in comparison to the day he met his future wife whilst working in a bar in Majorca.  Moving to Amsterdam living in my mum’s dads flat above the sweet shop. Before eventually returning to Britain and settling down to have a family. I’ll be sharing some fantastic stories later during the service.

He was a proud man. He was kind and generous, filled with a need to prove his love. He was bloody grumpy at times too but this was part and parcel of who he was. He wouldn’t have been Dad if he wasn’t a contradiction. A family man trying to do his best for his family.

A frightened man. Scared to be forgotten. His greatest fear after mum died was to be forgotten, to fade away unnoticed. How wrong he truly was. As news of his death started to spread, emails, cards and phone calls came in. Memories, left, right and centre. A discovery of a book written on the life he led in Majorca with his best friend Jim. He was loved. He is loved. He has been remembered and always will be. The true tragedy is that he would not believe you. No matter how many times he would be told he was far too humble to accept a thank you or a compliment. Usually fobbed off with a few choice glaswegian words.

He opened up more in recent years. I think everyone was shocked a bit with the amount of love demonstrated through the pain when his beloved wife passed. He showed a side me and David didn’t see that much of. He counted every single one of you here today as family. There was no distinction in blood. Workers from Decantae, who we both classed as our extended family. Coworkers from his contract days. Friends of David and I. Everyone. He loved to share stories of all of you. The last few years he clinged onto these memories. The love he had despite the dementia slowly destroying his sharp and witty mind. He clung onto those memories till he could no longer speak. He would tell anyone of these fantastic people who were such a massive part of his life. I know he would be so happy to see you all here today. Telling stories and celebrating the life of one crazy Scottish man, who never cared about being anything other than himself.

So please. Don’t forget. It would be a disservice to the life he led. His life now lives on in you. Each and every one of you. His name and legacy doesn’t end here today. David, me, Victoria. B, S and R. Everyone. Legends never truly die.

We thank you. God bless.

Rest well Dad. You deserve to.

To whom it may regard

I’ve been reading up on what things I can write about to get things off my chest. I used to use BetterHelp.com for that but it got a bit expensive. Its great but its a strain on the family finances hence coming back to blogging.

There is a suggestion that you should write a letter, list or interview. I’m not sure which way to go but the thought of a letter would be nice.

*** Trigger warning: child abuse ***

Dear child abusers,
Go and FUCK yourselves instead of young, impressionable 13 year old boys that you have plied with alchohol and only to then leave them with a fucked up brain.

Thanks,
A

That was weird. Not usually one to swear too much when typing but the words were fitting to the situation.

Dear child abusers,
With regards to my previous letter I feel I should expand in a few areas. You groomed me for months by inviting me, at 13 years old, to hang out and watch Stargate whilst giving me orange juice with copious amounts of vodka in. Me being a teenager thought that this was so cool, that you guys were cool and I was being accepted as a friend with people older than me. I loved your company, hanging out and working with you at the religious centre. I always looked forward to my shifts with you. Talking about things and being treated like an adult.

Being invited to watch a film at the cinema. It was 8mm. No idea at 13-14 that it was based on the darker elements of sexuality. But I think you knew that. Well. Touching me in the cinema was probably planned as well. Then one day putting on porn instead of Stargate or Friends by “mistake” to see how I would react. I didn’t mind, I got to hang out with you still. So what if you did these weird and strange things. I was naive, I didn’t know better and thought this is how adult life is. I was honoured that you let me in your bedroom to fix your internet connection. So what if you stuck your tongue in my mouth, I got to feel special because I fixed something for you. That was just the way it was. Even when you invited a group of people round so they could sit and watch this weird stuff on tv whilst giving me drinks till I started having gaps in my memory. This really weird thing happened when I woke up at home the next day, after my unknowing parents who blamed themselves, discovered blood in my underwear and some strange pains and aches. Still. It didn’t matter. You were happy and from what I remember now after therapy, I must of loved it as I couldnt stop you. You must of thought of it as a game as I tried to get downstairs and away from you. I didn’t even know all your names.

When I was 15 the coolest thing happened to me. See, in school, I was being bullied and turned from this lively, outgoing boy to sneaking in vodka and getting drunk in the middle of high school. No one knew what was in the water bottle that I carried like a crutch. I stopped talking to my friends, I stopped talking to my parents. I was already at that stage of uncomfortableness in life as a teenager but having you guys guide me through it was awesome. I started to fall from being top of the class to the dregs at the bottom. It didn’t seem important any more. My report from school, sent home, was saying I was falling behind with everything, lacked enthusiam. Hell, I’ve still got the reports here with me today! My mum naively wrote “If you did something about A’s bullying problems then maybe his work would be better”. I didn’t come to my parents. I didnt want them embarressing me or being involved with the guys from work. As far as they knew everything was fine apart from at school. It was only in 2011 when I told my mum about what happened that she said the immortal line “Thats why there was blood in your underwear”. I was shocked at that comment but well yeah.

So the coolest thing. 15 year old me. Invited to go out clubbing with you and all your friends and a sleep over at your sisters house! Oh my god how amazing that someone who had no real friends for whatever reason, finally had acceptance from people. Not just any people. ADULTS. You treated me as an equal but sometimes special when you invited me to your bedroom with different people watching. Anyway. That didn’t matter. I left with you from work, got to your sisters and we got ready to go out on the town. By the time we walked to a friends house I was already drunk and out of it. You were all watching porn on tv. 5-6 of you? You started touching me. Not just one of you. You all wanted to. You all did. We then left and went to the pubs before ending up in a club. We drank, we danced, I stopped drinking as I was feeling really sick. Then the bouncers made me go outside for freshair. The next time I remember is being naked with 2 of you guys and a girl. Was that a camera? no matter. I threw up. Then pain. Then passed out. I don’t know how long I was asleep for but it wasn’t long. Grabbing my mouth and pouring more drink and me trying not to be sick. There was someone behind me doing something. Pain. Blood. Drink and then blank.

I woke up the next day at your sisters. You were so angry at me for being sick on the floor during the night. You made me feel like I was dog dirt. You shouted and threatened. You drove me back to work for my shift but I could barely stand. I called my mum and she came and collected me.

That was the last time I would work with you. I realised something wasn’t right and my parents pressured me to quit because they didn’t like the hassle of collecting me and dropping me off. You phoned the house and started giving me abuse over the phone. I was scared every time the phone would ring. You got what you wanted I, I think, I couldnt understand why you were so angry at me. One minute I was part of this amazing club and now I’m cast out, can’t see any of you and getting verbal abuse over the phone.

I started drinking on my own. 15-16 years old, I didn’t know better. I thought this is what life was. I swallowed the emotions and memories down. Deep down. My mum told me that I should do that with bullys. Ignore them, put the memories and things in a box in your mind and hide it. So I did that with the abuse. I just boxed it and drank. Then pills. My parents supply of codiene and tramadol. Hammering it and just being out of it to feel like it was.

Fast forward to the end of 2010. R was born. I saw her grand father pick her up. Then these. These flashes in my mind. Images of kids being abused, watching them do things to them. The taste of alchohol on my lips or someones breath. What the hell. The boxes started to open. I found a journal, some things written on my computer. It all came back. I spirled fast and hard. I lost my family. I turned to drink and drugs again.

Amazing that you could still hurt me decades later. Physical wounds heal but the mental ones are the hardest. Last night I was getting flashbacks again. I cried myself to sleep as I couldn’t even allow my wife to touch me because of the feelings I felt.

So I guess I wanted to say I hope it was worth it. My life effectively ended in 1998. You took my innocence and used it for your own pleasure. The effects are still here to this day. Every minute of every day you are but a flash away. I see a baby. I see you. I see drink, I smell your breath in my face. My beloved wife, who has stood with me since 2011 and been through all of this with me, touches me. I recoil and shudder from the woman I love with all my heart. She cries. It repeats.

I’ve tried tracking you all down to no joy. Of course there is no track, its been decades and you’ve moved. I drove round where your sisters house was. I couldn’t even get out of the car because I teared up and didn’t want you to see that. I drove past work. Its been taken over by a new company, not a religious retreat.

Ugh. That sums it up. Ugh. I know everyone else has problems in their past. This is my baggage and it doesn’t make me special. But seriously. I don’t even have words for you.

Thanks. Thanks for the memories,

A

Weird. I feel better. Sorry for over sharing but this is something I carry and putting a letter out to them makes me feel better. I think the only thing that I would add would be my brother who made a lovely comment back in 2019 when we were clearing my dads house out (mum and dad both died semi-recently). He turned to me and said “It couldn’t of been that bad being abused by a woman”. That question has burned on my brain. My reply should of been better but he caught me off guard “It was one woman and five men” I said. “Oh”. he said. Weird that, that comment made me feel like I was 13-15. Powerless. Maybe he was right? I must of enjoyed it. I let them do it.

Camping

We escaped the house and fled to Sherwood Forrest, where the legend of Robin Hood resides. When we got there (eventually after a 2 hour traffic jam) we pitched in the rain whilst the kids stayed in the car playing on phones.

We got soaked. Everything but we managed to get everything setup and changed into dry clothes and settled in with sausages and chips for dinner (we have a little oven). The camp site was also a fishery with 4 lakes and a canal. I brought all my fishing bits with me and taught the kids how to fish.

They loved it and what was even more precious? they both managed to catch a few fish over the weekend. D loved it as well, I had to wrestle one of the rods off her so the kids could have a go. I bought the kids a couple of poles but they found casting more fun so put two reels on.

It was so nice. Just relaxing by the canal. Catching the odd fish but that didnt matter. It was being outside, it was being with my family and an escape from the doom and gloom of the past few weeks.

We went out for a posh meal and Nina the dog was allowed in as well. Of course we had to go to the see the legend that is the forrest. The trees were beautiful and you could really feel the history surrounding you. Seeing the villagers who used to travel through there and where the king would hunt. It used to be over 100,000 acres of land reserved for the king as hunting grounds (this is like 300 years ago) and anyone found plundering food or wood would be punished. Its only about 1,000 acres now but still. You can feel it.

We got home late on yesterday and I’ve so far spent the day putting all the camping stuff back into the attic ready & waiting for the next trip. Hopefully we’ll be going up to Edinburgh to see the family, and some friends at the end of the month.

The new medication seems to be working, well its not new they just upped to the max dose which plays havoc in the morning when I take it for the first ten minutes but after that I feel better on them.