If you’ve been following my blog for a while you’ll know that Ive spent a lot of time in my young adulthood in and out of psychiatric hospitals. The thing that bothers me the most isn’t the dire experience of these institutions but more the aftermath of life outside of them. Depression , anxiety and PTSD makes life difficult.
I worry about my chances of getting a job as i’ve been unemployed for five years and my ability to have a normal healthy relationship , or raise a family.
I’m not gonna say I’ve tried my best because I haven’t. My recent admission was partly my fault I thought going into hospital was the right thing. It wasn’t. Although I still believe that going into hospital at 17 as horrible as it was , was necessary to combat my psychosis. I’m still very codependent on my parents. The most frustrating thing is not being able to get away or live without people your not happy with. I cant drive and although I appreciate my family trips to McDonalds its not enough to fix the damage that being in these places has had on me. I feel lethargic a lot I fall asleep during the day and go to bed early at night I struggle to concentrate on TV as most dramas trigger my psychosis. I’ve gained weight , I vomit probably just because of the state I’m in. My parents answer to this is move on. Yet I cant everywhere I go I’m still in that ward.
I struggle to look after myself although I set alarms on my phone , I still struggle to take my tablets or keep my flat clean without my parents help. I want my children to have a better life than me. However currently the only money I get is PIP and universal credit (Im getting a donate button soon folks)
Probably the worst thing is i’m too depressed to write , the best piece Ive ever written, reading it back gives me nausea as it reminds me of a period in my life I don’t want to go back to. Even poetry I feel I can never get right.
I try to go out for walks alone , to smoke instead of eat , to stay up late , to get a job but the comments people have said still come back to me , but what can I do besides stuff my face with jammy dodgers and fall back asleep two hours after ive woken up? I feel inadequate. One of the rare people my age in Scotland that doesn’t have highers and has borderline dementia. Reading a book feels like a mockery.
The muddy water washed over them as they stood shivering on the street corner. Two girls Mary and Gennie. They weren’t wanted by society; they weren’t wanted by anyone. They had a mother. Yes, a mother that lived in unclean squalor who smoked rolled up cigarettes and talked to herself. Who sent them out on an ice-cold day in January to collect messages because she couldn’t be bothered? Mary pulled her arm around Gennie pulling her towards her in a hug. No one was going to hurt her, not this time, this time mother had gone too far. She slapped Gennie in psychotic rage, the doctors had given her pills, pills that she washed down with Russian vodka. Mary wouldn’t say mother didn’t care, that was not it. She had always blamed her father far more than her mother a selfish man who’d run off at a young age with another wealthier woman. Who’d left Mary and Gennie in the care of a woman society would claimed as unfit. It was the nineteen forties and the second world war was still raging on.
They lived in London but hadn’t been fortunate to be evacuated here they lay stiff in bed at night, planes circling overhead wondering wither a bomb would drop upon their heads. Gennie suffered from mad fits of panic waking in the middle of the night shivering at the sounds of the sirens her whole body would shake her teeth chattering, her knees knocking, I cant breath she would yell at Mary , “Mary take her back to bloody bed” mother said dismissing her through a cloud of smoke as she sat in a worn armchair watching some old cowboy film on a black and white television. “You don’t have to be so selfish” She yelled at mother although she was only fourteen, she felt like the only person in the world who cared about her sister. She pulled on Genies hand dragging her into the kitchen and putting some milk on the gas hob to heat up. Gennie hopped from foot to foot as the air raid sirens wailed on. Mary wished they would stop. What good did it do? It only panicked people, people running into shelters or just running around the streets clutching at others anything to sooth their fear. Mary thought it was unnecessary and selfish of the government to panic people in such a way. Once the milk was heated up enough, she poured it into a mug and took Gennie by the hand leading her back up to bed. Climbing the stairs. She Lit a lavender candle and tucking her under the covers. “What if we get bombed” Said Gennie still shivering. Mary took her hand stroking it in a soothing manner. “Were not going to get bombed” she said as if the idea was the most absurd thing anyone could ever conjure. She took out a book Alice in wonderland and began reading to Gennie. Gennie Sipped at the hot milk as her sister soothed her into sleep that eventually came. Mary sat back on the old wooden chair; her sister lay peacefully with her eyes closed. Outside the sirens still wailed on and Mary wished she could be younger, she wished someone could sooth her into sleep, but no one would. mother sat downstairs half drunk and showed her no pity. She felt as if no one showed her any pity, perhaps she didn’t even deserve it?
The mornings were slow but easy. Make the beds, empty the chamber pots get dressed, then go downstairs for cornflakes with a little milk. No sugar, not even on birthdays. She longed for something soft and sweet like the buns she saw in the baker’s windows but there was no money.
Gennie was staggering about trying to put her tights on, they were laddered and bobbly, but again there was no money. They were both trouncing from school again, they were too scared to go as that would mean risking evacuation, and although she longed to go sit at a desk and learn poems and arithmetic in a quaint countryside town something in her just wouldn’t let her leave her mother.
Mary stared down at her black cup of tea no milk as usual. They used to get eggs and milk delivered when their dad was around. Sweets aswell once a month on payday they would go to the corner shop and chose between sherbet and liquorice balls all laid out neatly behind the counter. They had nothing like that now. Now all they could get where some out of date potatoes and carrots that mary would have to cut the bad bits off to make some watery soup.
My first love was my dad still is despite everything.
My parents are lovely people , I see myself reflected in them all the time especially my mum. She tries her best to take care of me even as an adult. They don’t get the respect they deserve because none of my family are very highly educated. Despite this my mum has a qualification in secretary studies and worked in Glasgow when she was young before then going into caring. My dads first job was in a butcher which he hated so he left and studied joinery at college. He worked for the council for years and I think we could have been better off if he’d just stuck with the council. My mum started taking serious epileptic fits after giving birth to my brother where she screams and curses and I think it might of traumatized me as a child a bit.
What I ate today: I had toast and Jam with tea for breakfast, shit for lunch, and pizza and chips for tea.
Love: I think love is different from infatuation, I think with infatuation you imagine a perfect life or perfect sex. Where as love is more of a friendship thing, but I doits nice to have a bit of dominance in the bedroom I suppose. Probs a perv for saying that.
My best friend: My best friend is crazy so much so she once jumped on the train tracks and wasn’t even drunk.
A favorite moment would have to be just before the shit happened me when I was 17 and a few of my friends were just out on a cool summers evening, I never used to leave the house so it was special just to watch the sea at night. Definitely would want to live near the coast.
My believes: I used to believe heavily in Marxism so much I gave myself brain damage and would never support it for that reason recently I have kind of been following Christianity.
What I’m wearing: leggings and a t-shirt from Primark.
My Dream is to achieve higher education and become a librarian or support teacher.
My siblings I have one older brother.
My favourite food. Takeaway pizza or Christmas dinner.
I found this tag on Charlotte, Somewhere. There really weren’t any rules. Pretty much it was answering the questions.
The Last Book I Gave Up On– So far haven’t given up on a book
The Last Book I Re-Read– The Last Battle. Well, more like the entire Chronicles or Narnia series
The Last Book I Bought– It really belongs to two books. Those are the first two Nevermoor books.
The Last Book I Said I Read, But Didn’t– Never did this either
The Last Book I Wrote In The Margins Of– Most likely this was Les Misérables
The Last Book I Had Signed– Well, it was more like a church friend giving me a signed book. Not me going to get a book signed. Despite not liking the Wicked book by Gregory McGuire, I still have a signed edition with a drawing of…
Bomb city is based on the true story of the death of Brian Deneck in 1997. The film shows the conflict and isolation between the more wealthier jocks and the punks of the town and the violence that occurs between the two groups that leads to the murder of Brian Deneck and how no one was sentenced for it.
In todays society we would call these kids punks , goths , underclass because of the music they listen to , clothes they where , wither their on drugs. In the film we see the group violently attacked and violated by the police and the more wealthier part of the town.
The film reveals the prejudice and injustice in the legal system at the time.
There are many clashes between the Jocks and the punks but one night the violence comes to a peak when the two groups are fighting in a local car park leading to the death of Brian Deneck. When taken to court the verdict was not guilty.
The main theme in the film is conflict , put love and friendship play a big part to. Brian is determined to keep his girlfriend safe at one point telling her she shouldn’t go out unarmed , because he doesn’t trust or feel safe in the community where he lives.
At one point the gang are chased by the police for spray-painting. The police storm their flat without a warrant forcing them to the ground and spraying pepper spray in one of their eyes.
Overall this film relates a lot to what we still see today the injustice in the police and just in general the relationship between rich and poor.