B&W Portrait

The Rules of Being Angry

So the other night I had a bad dream in which I find out that Stu has been cheating on me, so when I wake up I need a little reassurance. I turn to Stu and after saying good morning to him I ask, “You haven’t cheated on me right?” there was hesitation before he said ‘no’ so I asked again. He changes his answer. My first questions were who, where and when. It turns out he kissed a girl while out one night at a local night club (yes, I am being vague to you, he was specific to me) and he didn’t tell me because we’d only just gotten back (later ‘only just’ turned into ‘about two weeks’) together and he ‘thought it would ruin everything.’ He said that it had happened because his sister still didn’t know that we were back together (even though I had asked him to tell her many times (she doesn’t like me and he didn’t want her to have a go at him)) and he didn’t want her to get suspicious, so he acted as if he was still single. After this, I sat quietly trying to figure out how I felt and if I was a hypocrite for being angry and upset (I have done far worse to him, more times.) He then decided to disappear for two to three hours and let me dwell on it. When he finally returned he told me that he was avoiding me because I was upset.

I then spent the next couple of days telling him that I was fine and we were fine and that everything was fine… Until today. He knew something was bothering me and said that it upset him that I wouldn’t talk to him, so I told him. I told him about how I wanted to be angry and upset but felt as if it would be hypocritical. He told me that I needn’t feel like that because when we got back together we wiped the slate clean. He told me that I could do or say whatever I wanted to feel better and I had every right to do so. I asked him some more questions, cried a little and then mentioned that I thought Josh was texting me because he was worried about me. Instantly he gets irate, demanding to know how Josh knows, then he flipped out when I said that I posted a status on Facebook.

Unbelievable that he can somehow make this about him. He always does something like this when he feels the power shift. He can’t let me have one up on him, no matter what. He always has to find some way to make me the bad guy. I think that I, being the injured party, should be allowed to tell who I want, do what I want and express myself in any way I want. But no, I am allowed to be upset but only in a way that is previously approved by him. He’s still angry at me. He keeps demanding an apology but he’s not going to get one.

Anyway, that’s all for tonight. I’ll tell you more about other things at a later date and I apologise for all of the brackets in the first paragraph.

Blessed Be
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The Unreachable Corners of the Sub-Conscious.

Let me tell you about a dream I had last night. It comes in parts as I tend to wake during the night when I turn over or move in any way. Usually I just get lots of different dreams but this was different. It was the same dream but every time I went back into it, some time had passed in the story.

I was in a shopping arcade with a group of girls that I can only assume were my friends. We were all pretty drunk and I told them that I had never kissed a man with dreadlocks. So, they dared me to kiss the next guy with dreadlocks that I saw. When I saw him, I approached him and explained the situation I was in and asked as politely as possible if I could kiss him. He agreed and it was the most amazing kiss of my life.

Next, I was standing in a beautiful, old, cottage-feeling house. I was standing in the kitchen with my arms around the neck of the man that I had kissed. I looked him lovingly in the eyes and said, “We will be together forever, my Matty and I.”

Then I was upstairs in the house alone. It was darker than before and looked a little neglected. I called out; “Matthew?” no answer, so I walked from room to room calling him. Finally I went outside and saw some of the villagers sitting on park benches. I walk over to an elderly gentleman that I obviously know quite well and ask him, “Have you seen Matthew? I can’t seem to find him.” He says that he has and nods to table a little way away. I thank him and head over to where Matthew is sitting and chatting to another elderly man. I sit opposite him and ask him in a generally uplifted tone, “Where were you? I was looking for you.” He was unshaven and bent over a pint. He looked up at me with his eyes only and said, “What is it with you recently?”

I’m in our bedroom now with our son and two daughters and their dogs. Matthew is not with us. I try the door but it’s locked. The children and the dogs are running around the room as if nothing was going on but I was worried. I saw a crack in the wall and peaked through. I could see into the guest room and there was ‘my Matty’ giving it good and proper to the plump lady who lived next door. What made this worse was the wall sized mirror beside the bed, doubling my anguish. I didn’t get angry nor did I cry, I just stood for a moment with a mild look of shock on my face before stepping back and sitting on our bed. My expression was frozen and the children carried on playing.

We were old finally and Matthew looked gaunt, grey and furious. He was bringing his packed bags outside and I was begging him not to leave. I told him I forgave him for the affair and that I still loved him and he said that it was my fault he slept around, I made him miserable. Then our grown-up daughter stepped out of the house. I gasped. “Is this really our little girl?” I asked. “She’s so grown-up and beautiful. How did that happen?” Then Matthew turned and smiled at me and I saw in his wrinkled old face, the young man with dreadlocks I kissed for a dare all those years ago. I put my arthritic hands either side of his face and he said, “You know why I let you kiss me? You were so timid and polite. You have the kind of personality that just doesn’t exist anymore.” He kissed me then and it felt just like it did the first time. It felt as though time stood still for a moment so that it could admire the love, the passion and the workings of destiny and fate. He placed his now youthful hands on my face and said, “We will be together forever,” “my Matty and I.” I finished.

Do you think love like this really exists or does my mind torture me so because I am a writer with an over-active imagination?
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The Point of Absolute Despair

So, it’s been a month since I last updated. This is mostly due to the sheer exhausted nature of my being at the moment. Everything has been more difficult since my meds were cut in half. Living is harder now (The precise reason I upped my dosage in the first place).

My appeal and ESA and money situation take most of my energy nowadays. I’m on the brink of giving up. My money was stopped for apparently no reason so I called up Chippenham (sp?) to find out what was going on and after two days of trying to get through to a human being (no, I’m not exaggerating) I eventual was told that I needed a doctors note. I had not been told this previously. There was no way I could have known that. I told them this and also asked what I was supposed to do to live until I could get one to them and I got the generic ‘not my problem’ response. I couldn’t get a doctors appointment for a week and my doctor is on holiday so I had to meet with someone unfamiliar. I saw them today and explained my situation to them and told them what I needed. I was told then when I was declared ‘fit for work’, the doctors has received a letter telling them not to supply me with doctor’s notes anymore. I again explained that I was in the process of appealing and she agreed to give me one for four weeks only and told me that I have to find out what’s going on and fix it and to meet with Dr Knight (my usual doctor) as soon as he returns. I then went to the Job Centre to ask them what was going on and how I could fix it and the woman there told me that I shouldn’t need doctor’s notes and that I should be claiming JSA while the appeal is going through. I told her that I was told that I would continue being paid ESA while and she said “Oh, that’s fine then. There are two scenarios. I would call Chippenham and ask them what you should be doing.”

I’m so tired and drained and I’ve been crying all day. All I want is a little bit of help but everybody seems to be doing everything they can to make everything as difficult as possible. I went for a CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) the other day as well and after talking to the councillor for an hour and a half she decided that I may in fact be psychotic and that I need better help for a longer period of time than she can give me. So, I’ve been
referred elsewhere… again. I’ve not heard anymore about that since then.

So I’m left with meds that don’t help, benefits that aren’t being paid and counselling that may or may not happen in the unknown future.

The whole point of my claiming ESA in the first place was to avoid the stress of work/ looking for work and all the things that go with it. I just wanted time to get help and get better but I’m thinking that right now, the better option may be to hide under the duvet until the world goes away. In fact, I’m thinking of walking down to St
Ann’s and signing myself in. I don’t know how much more of this I can cope with. I can feel myself breaking down and falling apart.

And I’ve had a headache for three days now.

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Where's the off button?

I have been very focused on my weight recently. That and sex which appear to go hand in hand unfortunately.

When I found myself hunched over the sink with my hand down my throat I thought to myself, "I didn't think it would go this far. I think it's time to stop before it gets completely out of hand." Luckily (or unluckily depending on your view) I have a pretty tame gag reflex, so I can shove my fingers literally down my throat and still not throw up. In the beginning, I was so used to not eating that I had to force myself to take on food until I was full but now, this has become a habit. In fact, I've started to eat even after I'm full. Stu has to watch me and if I start to complain that I'm full or my stomach hurts, he has to take the food away from me. I just want to inject here an apology for if I am repeating myself. I don't often re-read my posts so I'm unsure of what I have already posted. Moving on, this is where my problem is. I find I'm caught in a cycle and I'm unsure how to get out of it without having someone plan and monitor my meals for me. You see, by eating lots I'm putting on weight and putting on weight means that Ana (Ana is the voice in my head that was born from my anorexia. She is the one who warps my self-image and destroys my self-esteem encouraging me to starve myself and exercise until I collapse.) is telling me I'm fat and I need to starve myself. Fearing regression and maybe even relapse, I carry on eating which of course means that I put on more weight. And so the cycle repeats itself. I told my Psychotherapist this today and his solution was to cut my meds in half. This is a stupid idea and I'll tell you why. A side-effect of the drug I am on (Quetiapine) is weight gain so he believes that by cutting my dosage I will not gain so much weight. However, the main effect of the drug is that it settles my mind, quiets the voices in my head and allows me to think clearly. So even if I stop gaining weight, or even if I loose weight, my mind wont allow me to believe it. Knowing this, I feel like I should ignore his suggestion (just like he has ignored all of mine) and carry on taking my pills as normal. But then, he is a doctor and I know I'm supposed to trust that he knows what is best. I find it hard to make decisions.

Now let me tell you about the affects of my weight gain in relation to Stu. The first thing that I noticed was when he picked me up. He often does this as I'm so much smaller than him. When I was thin, it was easy and he was always shocked at how light I was and always told me so. He joked that he almost threw me through the ceiling because he was expecting more weight. Now it is much harder. He doesn't lift me as high and I can feel the strain in his arms and even hear the strain in his voice when he lifts me. He tries to pretend it's not that bad but I know he just doesn't want me to worry. But I do. He doesn't look at me the same way anymore. I don't mean to suggest that he loves me any less but when I was thin he would always be checking me out. If I stretched or bent over he'd grab me (not in a bad way. It made me feel good, like he was saying "You're sexy and I want you to know that I think so.") and I was never able to get changed in his presence because he'd be all over me. But now, I feel like furniture. He doesn't look at me anymore, he doesn't touch me anymore. I asked him if it was because of weight and he said he didn't know. Then I gave him the 'then and now' comparisons that I just gave you and he said "Well then, maybe you should be thin again" and "If you want something bad enough, you have to work for it." I guess I asked for it really. I just didn't think he was as shallow as he appears to be right now.

What else to tell you? Oh yeah. A friend of mine (well she's more of a friend of a friend... of a friend) is apparently pregnant which upsets me a little. Not because I dislike children or her, it's just that everybody I know is either pregnant or have recently had a child and most of them are single and not in the best of situations. I want to have children more than anything, have done since I hit puberty but I have waited to find a steady partner who also wants children and I'm waiting still, until we have a place of our own and funds enough to support a child. I worry that when the time comes, it wont be exciting and no-one will care because they've all 'been there, done that.' It's not fair that all these girls that accidentally get pregnant and pretend that it was planned get cooed over and the sensible people who are careful and wait until the time is right are ignored and forgotten. Also, knowing my parents, I'll be told that it is stupid and irresponsible of me no matter how long I wait.

Okay, I've completely bummed myself out now so I'm going to change the subject.
Beth (Connor's girlfriend) is visiting us. She seems nice. She's all quiet and shy but then I would be too. I'd like to get to know her better but I know how awkward you can feel in a strange place with strange people so I'm not going to push the awkwardness on her. I'll just wait until she feels a little more comfortable with us and then I will get to know her.

A quick note about my ESA appeal. I went to a meeting with a woman who deals with these things and she said it could take 6-8 months to process my appeal so try not to worry about it (easier said than done).

Also Danii got the birthday present I sent to her and called me to tell me how much she loved it and to demand that I tell her what I want for my birthday. I can't think of a thing and even if I could I hate to ask for presents. Also I can't help but feel like that's cheating. I put a lot of thought into the gift I got her and it demonstrated my love for her and her friendship as well as my knowledge of things that she likes. If I tell her what I want it shows me nothing about how she thinks of me.

Speaking of birthday presents, I got a new tattoo on my upper back, just below my neck of the triple Goddess. Pictures will be going to Facebook if you're interested.

Okay, I'm pretty sure that's everything now. Thanks for sticking around so far.
Blessed Be
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The Sister

Okay, so my appeal is being processed and I have an interview with someone on the 26th who will "explain my options to me". Good to know I suppose, and I will continue being paid ESA until the appeal has been dealt with.

I also filled out a questionnaire (I fucking hate questionnaires) so that I can be put on the waiting list for The Gateway Team. If you follow me on Facebook, you'll know all about this because I've ranted a lot about how it's impossible to rate emotions on a scale from 0-8. Anyway, I don't really want to get into that again, so I'll just say this; I'm not exactly feeling optimistic.

Anyway, I'm pissed off about something else right now and that is what I came here to talk about. Stu would be pissed if he knew about this but I don't give a shit. This is a place for me to express myself so fuck him, that's what I'm going to do.

This is about his sister. Now, it's no secret that I hate her and yes, I said hate. I don't normally like to use that word because I hate it when people say they hate someone and then forgive them instantly because they said sorry. That's not hate, you were just angry at the time. But I hate Kazz, and for those who don't know her, I'll give you a run down. Kazz is a control freak, an attention seeker, a bitch and a hypocrite. She will tell you exactly what, when, where and how you should do something while she tells you a story about how awesome she is before bitching about a certain person that she knows who she hates because they're always trying to tell people what to do. Then, of course, she's really nice to their face so I guess you can add two faced to that list. Here's an example of just how two-faced she is. A while back, she and Stu were in a fight about something, I don't even remember what. Anyway, she shouted to me, something along the lines of "I bet you're happy now aren't you Vicky. You finally got what you always wanted." Stu replies by telling her to leave me out of it because it has nothing to do with me, so in the space of a breath she is now begging me to help her fix things with Stu. I told her it had nothing to do with me and that I was keeping out of it. This has been swirling in my head for days now.

So because of these things, I dislike her as a person. If she were anyone else I'd meet her, suss out her personality and probably never see her again but because she happens to be my boyfriend's sister, I tried to get along with her. I tried hard but eventually it was obvious that it just wasn't going to work, so I gave up. But here's the thing, I dislike her as a person simply because of the way she is and the way she acts but I also dislike the way she treats Stu and the way he lets her treat him and also the way he is with her. All these things add up and leave me inevitably hating her. I know I'm rambling because I'm emotional right now but please bare with me. When I came to the conclusion that we would never get on no matter how hard I tried, I told Stu that I would refrain from 'bitching' about her in his presence and he would do the same with Josh. The difference here though is that Stu hates Josh because he feels personally betrayed by him but I hate Kazz for Stu's sake. You may disagree with my morals but I think it's noble what I do and I'd do it for anyone that I love. When Claire was with her alcoholic husband I told her what a piece of work her was, when Josh was with his cheating girlfriend who didn't even care enough to make up an excuse, I told him he should leave her and when Ashley brought his girl over from America, I made my feelings towards her abundantly clear. I want these people to see what is really there in front of their eyes instead of the ideal person they've built them up to be, because I love them and I don't want them to be hurt. Anyway, recently I've not been trying so hard to bite my tongue. This is partly because of the reasons I just gave, partly because I'm having some personal issues with my medication (which I will explain more about in a minute) and partly because I'm fed up with keeping my feelings and emotions to myself.

As you can imagine, Stu doesn't like to hear bad things said about his sister and so we have been arguing quite a bit recently but I am determined that eventually I will be able to give him some kind of undeniable proof that will open his eyes once and for all. One thing that really gets to me is his Facebook profile. He very rarely uses Facebook even though I also bring my laptop to his house and he can use it whenever he likes, he chooses not to. So, Kazz often logs into his account and adds friends for him, adds him to groups and even unfriends people that she has had a falling out with. This just screams control freak at me. She literally dictates who he will and will not be friends with. He said to me that he doesn't care because he doesn't really use Facebook anyway, to which I said "Then why don't you just close your account?" He says that people expect you to have Facebook and people always say to add them on Facebook when you've met them and been friendly with them. I asked why it would be so terrible for him to say that he doesn't have Facebook and give them his number in stead but he says that he never has credit, to which I reply that he's never on Facebook either to which he maintains that people expect you to have Facebook. Does anyone else find this ridiculous? So the fact that she pick and chooses his friends pisses me off but when I found out that she will bitch to him about status' that I have put up, I was so beyond pissed off I don't have a term for it. So I ended up blocking my boyfriend so that his bitch of a sister can't spy on me through him anymore.

But wait, there's more. She was supposed to go round his tonight, stay over and leave tomorrow at a decent time so that I could go up and see him. Then she says that she doesn't know if she's going to come over or not and that she'll let him know and in turn, he'll let me know if I can come over earlier. Then I find out that she's told him that if she does come over it'll be some time between 8 and 10 and he just has to sit and wait to see if she shows up or not. Apart from anything else, that's just rude. Then we find out she's not coming until the early hours tomorrow morning... maybe. So now, not only is she making him drop everything and wait to see if she shows up but it means that I'm forced to do the same. Even though I've all but cut her out of my life, she is still controlling me and what's worse is that he doesn't understand why I'm angry and thinks that I'm having a go at her for no reason what-so-ever. If this were the other way around she would demand that he tell her exactly what was happening and if he really couldn't give her an answer because certain events were out of his control she would shout and yell at him loads and basically make him feel like shit about himself. How do I know this? I've seen it happen. She flies off the handle if he shows up 5 minutes late, if he made her sit around the house and wait to see if he shows up she would go completely mental. But he just rolls over and begs her to walk all up and down his spine. God! If she wasn't his sister I could swear that he was either in love with her or they were having an affair. He freaked out when I said this to him so I amended it by saying "It's either that or you constantly owe her something." He argued that if she thought he owed her then she would keep reminding him of it. "No," I said "the best manipulators are so good at what they do that they make you think that you want to do all these things for them because they are really nice to you. Can you tell me one good thing that she has done for you?" He said, "She's always stuck up for me. I would be on the streets if it wasn't for her." "Ah," says I "so you do feel like you owe her?" Game, set and match. He just made a lot of angry sounds, kept saying no and then changed the subject.

We're in the middle of a fight at the moment. I was complaining down the phone to him about how she shouldn't be able to control my life as well as his and he hung up on me. I told him I'm coming over tomorrow at 4 whether she's there or not. I'm unsure how to play this. I can either go over when I said I would and be satisfied that I still make the rules in my own life, or I could not show up and not tell him and see if he lets me get away with it as flawlessly as she does. Either way, I'd be making my point but I feel that the first option is a personal victory whereas the second would be a very, 'I told you so' and 'I'm going to rub it in your face' victory. The second may be more petty but it'll definitely be more fun. But then this whole thing arose because I wanted to see him and she was stopping that from happen, so in a way I'll be cutting off my nose to spite my face. I really don't know. Both are likely to end in an argument. I could always just show up at 8 or 9, that way I'll be able to do both. But then knowing him, he'll probably go to pigeons or something just to piss me off a little more. He makes me so angry sometimes.

You know what else I don't understand? Why people say completely fabricated lies just to hurt other people when they are angry. I will admit that I did this when I was a child but since I've come to experience real relationships and therefore real arguments, I have never done this. Stu often does this and then afterward will say "I just said it because I was angry, you know I don't really mean it." But no, I don't know that. How am I supposed to know that it wasn't actually something that you've thought or felt for a long time and it just came up because you were angry? How am I supposed to pick apart the truth from the lies? I can't just assume that everything you say in anger is a lie because then our arguments would never be resolved. I just don't understand why people do that.

Moving fluidly onto the topic of my medication. I am bad at time keeping. Everyone who knows me, knows this. So there have been times when I've had to go a week or so without my anti-psychotics because I have thought that I had enough to last me a certain amount of time and they didn't. Then I forget to put in the prescription and then when I do, I forget to account for the fact that the doctors are closed on weekends, etc. Point is, it's my fault that I run out of pills but regardless of that, the fact is that I have had to go periods of time drug free. When I am off the drugs, I very quickly slip back into the way I used to be. Over emotional, insomniatic, my brain working over time, and these things can sometimes cause me to fight with Stu and I can see those cogs turning in his head. He's wishing that I was drugged up. He has admitted this to me and the more I think about it, the less I want to take them. He only got back with me because I was on the medication and therefore "easier to handle" (his words not mine). The fights that we have about Kazz coupled with this thought bring me to this conclusion; he wants a zombie for a girlfriend. He doesn't want me to be willful or opinionated or free thinking like I am, he wants me to be calm and settled and let the world wash over me. He doesn't want to be with me the way I am, he wants to be with the me that is too drugged up to give a damn about anything.

Anyway, I have a headache now and to be honest, the more I type the angrier I get so I'll leave it there for tonight. Sorry it's been a long one and as usual, I'm sorry for the disconjointedness and for any typos.

Blessed Be
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This and That

I've been like a zombie today. You know how it feels when you have to get up in the night to go to the toilet? You can barely roll yourself out of bed and your legs don't respond to you properly, even lifting your arm or keeping your head up is a struggle, that's how I've been all day today. Once again, I don't know why. I feel like recently, my body just decides that it's going to do something strange for no apparent reason and I just have to go along with it. It's frustrating and I canstantly feel like I'm ill but I don't know what I can do about it.

It was my 21st birthday on the 10th. It was an okay celebration I guess, not the best 21st ever nor even the best birthday I've ever had, it wasn't even what I had in mind, but it didn't rain and I didn't cry so it could have been a whole lot worse. It consisted of Graham, Stu and myself drinking and playing 'Liars Dice' the day before and family celebrations on the day itself. Food, drink and old school games, just like every other birthday.

I haven't gone a day without alcohol since then. I've not been drinking myself into a stupour or anything but one drink a day is far more than is usual for me. I feel like if I could afford to be on drugs, I would be, so in stead I'll smoke, drink and take as many of my anti-psychotics as I dare. It's that or go back to self-harm and Stu's started checking me for cuts so I guess I'll do my damage on the inside. Talking of which, my 'recovery' from anorexia has gone completely wrong. I'm not starving myself again, in stead I'm eating and eating and eating. Stu now has to watch me eat and take food away from me if he sees me struggling because I will eat until I can eat no more. My stomach swells and aches and I often feel like I'm going to throw up, I prefered feeling hungry.

I've also told Stu to command me once a day to either read or write. I mentioned before that I started reading 'The Great Gatsby', well I'm also in the middle of reading 'Awakening the Budah Within' and after that I have a bunch of John Greens, three or four books that I picked up at the second-hand shop, a book given to me as a birthday present and three books that I bought for Stu but which I also have to read. I really need to write more than I do as well.

I'm sorry that this post has been disjointed and seemingly pointless but I'm too tired to fix it so I'll leave it as it is and then let you know at a later date if I remember anything that I forgot to write about here.

Blessed Be

P.s. I just remembered that I forgot to tell you about my appeal and councelling. Sorry but I'm too tired now, maybe I'll tell you about it tomorrow.
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I've been ill the last couple of days. I think it's due to stress, I get like this when I work and when I was in college I had it a lot too. It's just a constant feeling that I'm going to throw up but I never do. It's so frustrating, I'm in constant discomfort. But I should start feeling better soon, now that Connor sent off my Appeal for me. Did I mention that? I don't remember the last thing I told you about it. I was waiting for a letter from my psychotherapist to send with the appeal. Mum sent me a text to say I had mail while I was away and I assumed that was it. It wasn't though and that's when I got ill. The next day it came though so I put it together with the other bits and pieces and asked Connor very nicely if he would run in up to the post box for me along with another letter that I had written the night before for a very good friend of mine and the girl I love.

She just called me actually. Poor thing was crying down the phone. She was upset because she'd just read my letter (not the reaction I was hoping for) and felt bad for not writing to me before. I did what I always do and laughed, explaining that it didn't matter, I always hope that my laughter will cheer up the person crying but it didn't have that affect. In stead she simply replied, "It matters to me." It broke my heart to hear her cry and to know that it was my letter that did it. What hurts more is that I can't wipe the tears from her eyes and hold her in my arms, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead and her crying subsides and she smiles again. I know I shouldn't love her and I've tried to stop but I can't. The mere thought of her makes my heart pound, and this smile refuses to leave my face even as my eyes begin to fill with tears.

I have to change the subject now or else I'll cry all night. Speaking of which, I've been finding it difficult to sleep of late. It's not just the illness either although the constant temperature change doesn't help. Actually, that's not a topic I can expand on easily so I guess I'll just move on.

I've been trying to keep myself busy. Doing puzzles, sculpting, playing Morrowind (Doesn't that just feel like there should be another 'w' in there?) and most recently, doing research for my newest book idea. Unfortunately this means gathering opinions from Muslims. Now, just to make it clear, I have nothing against Muslims or Islam, in fact I find the whole this fascinatingly interesting. But that's it. Now I could get as much info as I liked about Islam on the internet but what I really wanted was the opinions of Muslims not the opinion of Islam. In case my meaning is unclear I will rephrase. I don't want to know purely about what Islam teaches, what I really want to know is about the culture of it and how it affects Muslims in their everyday lives. However, collecting this information by talking to people means that I have to... well... talk to people. I have learned that Muslims have very strong opinions about how things should be and that's fine until they start using phrases like "It's wrong" and "It's linked to mental illness." I literally have to bite my lip, move my hands away from the keyboard and breathe. I keep reminding myself that it's just their opinion, it's what their religion teaches them, I'm supposed to be collecting information, I must not judge them and this is the kind of thing that I wanted to learn. It's a good thing I'm such a patient person.

Talking about my writing though, I've been telling myself for weeks now that "I'm going to do some writing today." The funny thing is, I always believe myself as well. I think it's just the thought of sitting and typing (what exactly are you doing now Vicky?) when I'd much rather be walking around or sculpting while talking into my dictaphone. I think it's broken though. The mechanisms stop turning for no apparent reason too frequently for me to even record a sentence.

I'm going to sign off now as my eyes are starting to hurt and my spelling is progressively getting worse, not that you'll notice (thank you spell check), and I feel like I should be lying and staring at the ceiling trying to decide whether I want the cover on or off me in stead of blogging so...

Goodnight and Blessed Be

Oh, p.s. Still haven't got past chapter 3 of The Great Gatsby. I'm terrible I know.
p.p.s. There were only two spelling mistakes, go me! :p
B&W Portrait


Hi guys. I've been meaning to put this up for a while but I've been at Stu's which means that the internet connection I have is very unpredictable and for some reason, this week, it's been unfavourable.

I've been really up and down recently. Laughing one minute crying the next. I've been taking four pills a day and the effects seem to be... less than they were when I started on them. I'm hoping that it's just the stress of the appeal that's bringing me down and hopefully when it's all sorted I'll be okay again. I've been trying not to think about what will happen if my appeal is denied. I just don't know what I'll do. I've finished writing out my appeal this morning, four pages from me and two from Stu. Now I just have to attach my doctor's letter and send it off.

My back has been killing me recently as well. I'm not sure why. The only thing I can think of is Stu's lumpy mattress and his broken sofa. I'll try some yoga in a bit, hopefully it'll stretch it out and it wont hurt as much.

I've started reading The Great Gatsby as a part of the Nerdfighter Summer Book Club. I've only read the first chapter so far but I trust John's choice and I believe it will be a good read. I'm glad to be part of a book club as well. They're forcing me into reading regularly. I miss reading.

I'm sorry, my mind's a blank right now. There was a bunch of stuff I was going to tell you but that's all I can think of right now.

Never mind. If I remember, I'll let you know.
Blessed Be
B&W Portrait

The Psychotherapist

I'm sitting in the waiting room, I got there early so I have to wait for half an hour before my appointment. My hands are clammy and my mouth is dry. I fill one of those plastics cups with water and sip it slowly. My mouth seems to be getting dryer. Two cheery men come in and join me in the waiting room. The elder of the two asks me if the water cooler produces cold water. I reply that the blue plastic tap does but the white one does not, after apologising for my bag being in the way and moving it. He fills his cup and makes a comment about how the white one should be the cold one because white is the colour of snow. He sits down opposite me which makes me very uncomfortable because he's right in my line of sight and I know that if I make eye contact with him he will try to talk to me. I hate talking to strangers. I wait out the next five minutes looking around the room and fiddling with the now empty plastic cup that is still in my hands. Then a large woman joins us in the seemingly shrinking room. She sits two seats down from me which now means that I can't glance around incase I accidentally catch her eye. I stare at the clock above our heads for a while and then realise that time will pass more slowly if I watch it. Two more women enter and sit next to the elderly gentleman and start talking about hospital appointments. Then I spotted something on the floor. A small piece of what I assume is plastic is glinting at me from the red carpet. My gaze is fixed. I start organising my thoughts, trying to decide what to say to my doctor. There is something green next to the plastic. A small piece of leaf or a blade of grass. I judged the distance between them to be 5 and a half to 6 inches. I begin to run through my exact words, repeating what I will say so as to remember it. I've always found that if I have a mental script that I can talk better to people I don't know too well. If I don't do this I tend to mumble and stutter and every other word is "um." Sometimes I don't even form words, I just make noises. There's my doctor now, a nice Indian fellow that I can never remember the name of. It looks like he's just come back from a break. I found his accent to be too strong when I first met him but I've gotten used to it now. I don't have to ask him to repeat himself anymore. A different, charming looking doctor with blond hair and blue eyes calls in the woman sitting two seats down. She puts down a magazine that I don't remember her picking up, and follows him into his room. A fly catches my eye and I follow it around the room for a bit before it flies around a corner. I focus back at the floor. What is that? A leaf or grass. Here he is again, he's ready for me now. "It's Victoria right? I didn't recognise you with that hairband."

Everything went pretty well. I told him everything I was supposed to and he agreed to everything I asked. He dictated three letters there and then. One to my GP giving him an update, one to the ESA people explaining that I have an anxious deposition and nervous disorder and that work is far too stressful for me for the time being and a final one to the Gateway Team, requesting that they consider taking me on for regular counseling sessions. They refused me before because of my tendency to self-harm but I have only had one incident in three months so he thinks it's worth asking.

I left and breathed deeply. Those rooms are so small and stuffy I can barely breathe. I went and sat at the bus stop outside and rummaged through my bag for my tobacco. Then I remember I ran out of Rizla's earlier. I sit and call Stu to tell him how well I did and how things are looking up. I woke him and he was irritable but that's okay, it was my fault he stayed up all night so he has every right. I want a cigarette but with no Rizla's there's nothing I can do so I put my earphones in, turn my mp3 player on and begin the walk home. It's not too far, 2 miles or so but it's been a while since I've walked that distance and I'm exhausted so naturally my entire body weighs three times as much as it normally does. It takes me about 50 minutes because I like to stroll and my feet are killing when I get home. I grab the new pack of Rizla's from my bedroom table and roll myself a fag. I go outside to smoke, come back in, have an egg custard tart (I actually made them for Dad on the monday after Fathers day (I got my days mixed up) but he said he couldn't eat them all himself), get myself a glass of coke and sit down to write this.

So all in all a successful visit to my psychotherapist. Now I just have to get my appeal sorted and hope that it gets there in time.

That's all for now.
Blessed Be
B&W Portrait

Fixing Problems

Hi guys.

I've spent the last couple of nights at Stu's. I was only supposed to stay the one night but I always end up staying for longer. It's partly because I love being with him, partly because I like the freedom I get when I'm at his (I'm still living with my parents) and partly because once I've settled somewhere I can't be bothered to leave. I'm too lazy for my own good.

I was supposed to only stay one night because I have an appointment with my psychotherapist today and when I'm at Stu's I have a tendency to over-sleep. I actually missed my last appointment because of this reason. He was okay with it though, he was just happy to hear that I was sleeping better. Anyway, to avoid over-sleeping and missing my appointment we decided to pull an all-nighter so, as you can imagine, I'm ridiculously tired. My appointment is at 2pm and I'm taking my letter from the ESA people with me.

I find it very difficult to trust people and so I tend to be very quiet around people I don't know very well. This has become an obstacle when talking to him. I'm supposed to tell him everything but I've held back a lot and my last couple of sessions I've barely said anything. But this time, I need to ask him three specific things. Firstly, that I'm a recovering anorexic and I would like some professional help with that, secondly that I would like regular counseling sessions so that I can eventually come off medication, weekly or fortnightly will be fine, and finally that I would very much appreciate it if he wrote a letter to the ESA people explaining my condition and how I am not ready to return to work yet. This will prove challenging for me and I'm already nervous but the consequences of not asking these questions will be far greater than any embarrassment or nervousness I may feel during the asking. I'll probably lead with the ESA thing because that is the most pressing matter and if I only manage to ask him one thing, that should be the one that takes precedence.

Anyway, I'll let you know how it goes.

Blessed Be