i hate my dog more of a cat person you see. it's a horrible big dark thing that cloaks me from day to day. some days the cloak gets lighter, but recently it's almost suffocating me. so instead of trying to ignore it and all it's wonderful symptoms, the tears that i hide, the anger that i can't hide, the seeing things that aren't there ect ect i have had to grudgingly go back to my medication.
enter the side effects, blinding headache, wanting to vomit and dizzy spells which are oh so fun. it's also effecting my sleep in as much as i am not really getting much of it. good old restless leg syndrome is really kicking my arse at the moment. so at night my eyes are closed my body is screaming for rest and my legs and arms are having a party that the rest of me isn't invited to.
i hate it it's frustrating that i have things in the fridge that need to be cooked and probably won't be, so will go to waste. i can't stand up for more than a few moments without feeling like i want to throw up and or pass out. in the back of my mind i have a person with a clip board telling me i have to do this this and this and i havent done any of it at all. i have about another half a week of side effects before hopefully i start feeling ok. well not sick any more ok isn't something i am very good at feeling at the best of times. but as long as the brain deadness goes and i have some energy at the end of it that will do.
Wednesday 21 November 2012
Wednesday 14 November 2012
the blog that makes no sense
do you ever get the feeling that your swinging from the ceiling and your pants they are revealing and this blog it makes no sense. my mind i fear has left me bereft with a bowl of shreddies no milk the fridge is empty and this blog makes no sense. these random things are streaming from a mind that is revealing while some kittens are appealing and this blog just makes no sense.
it's not poetry or creative, a tad desperate in its narrative. there is no hidden meaning it's a blog post that makes no sense.
i think my mind has broken, it is oozing little tokens from the cracks that have just opened and this blog makes no more sense.
i think i may be ill, is it time to take a pill? before sanity takes a spill in a blog that makes no sense.
depressed not dead and no my names not fred maybe i should go to bed and pull the duvet over my head and forget the things i said in the blog that makes no sense.
it's not poetry or creative, a tad desperate in its narrative. there is no hidden meaning it's a blog post that makes no sense.
i think my mind has broken, it is oozing little tokens from the cracks that have just opened and this blog makes no more sense.
i think i may be ill, is it time to take a pill? before sanity takes a spill in a blog that makes no sense.
depressed not dead and no my names not fred maybe i should go to bed and pull the duvet over my head and forget the things i said in the blog that makes no sense.
Tuesday 6 November 2012
saying bum with a smile
Just a thought a very small thought as i have only ingested two cups of tea. I have been reading a lot of blogs quietly, thoughtfully sometimes i nod and agree, sometimes i pull a bit of a face or wipe a wet eye and wish people knew just how brave they were.
Anyway not sure what the point of this post is, but yesterday i had a good day. It was productive, things got done i ventured out and didn't have a spaz about it and the sun was out.
Now having a good day could be seen to some as just a good day, a reason to smile. When you suffer from any form of a mental illness a good day is like skipping bare foot through a field of poppies and not worrying about cow pats or hayfever. It's like climbing a mountain naked and standing at the top wiggling your lumpy bits and shouting to the world " Up your bum world today is a good day."
When your life is a revolving door of angst and emotions hit you like a tsunami and everything is raw good days are worth celebrating.
It doesn't mean your cured, it just means you had some breathing space. It doesn't mean that maybe your not ill maybe your faking it, your not.
So don't over think them, try and enjoy them for what they are. They are your little triumphs to be enjoyed. As they say a pat on the back is better than a smack round the head, well they don't i just did.
I don't do life affirming stuff but wouldn't it be fun just to stand in front of a mirror not to pull yourself a part and just say bum with a smile. You never know it might work.
and thus the pants have spoken
Anyway not sure what the point of this post is, but yesterday i had a good day. It was productive, things got done i ventured out and didn't have a spaz about it and the sun was out.
Now having a good day could be seen to some as just a good day, a reason to smile. When you suffer from any form of a mental illness a good day is like skipping bare foot through a field of poppies and not worrying about cow pats or hayfever. It's like climbing a mountain naked and standing at the top wiggling your lumpy bits and shouting to the world " Up your bum world today is a good day."
When your life is a revolving door of angst and emotions hit you like a tsunami and everything is raw good days are worth celebrating.
It doesn't mean your cured, it just means you had some breathing space. It doesn't mean that maybe your not ill maybe your faking it, your not.
So don't over think them, try and enjoy them for what they are. They are your little triumphs to be enjoyed. As they say a pat on the back is better than a smack round the head, well they don't i just did.
I don't do life affirming stuff but wouldn't it be fun just to stand in front of a mirror not to pull yourself a part and just say bum with a smile. You never know it might work.
and thus the pants have spoken
Thursday 1 November 2012
feeling guilty
i am feeling a little out of sorts. Tonight i have seen entries in two different blogs that have prompted my brain to turn in on itself and ask the question
Why can some people write so eloquently about how they feel in an honest fashion where as i have to put a little hint of oh well life's not so bad on my things ?
I can drop little hints now and again, but then a voice inside coughs and says quietly " Don't harp on dear. No one wants to hear it."
So then we are back to cat poo. Cat poo is fast becoming a safety word. If things seem a little bit too uncomfortable CAT POO . I need to say how i am actually feeling CAT POO. i am about to be too honest about things CAT POO.
bloody cat poo.
truth is i haven't left the house since monday's journey from hell, where the only way i could stop a full blown no holds barred panic attack was to scratch three layers of skin from my left hand. The closest i have come to venturing out is standing at the backdoor. But i have to go out tomorrow and it's weighing heavy on my mind.
I don't like being me. I don't like what i have become and if i could turn back to clock to even as little as two years ago i would in a heart beat.
i see things moving dark shapes that i know aren't there. They don't scare me what does is that fact that seeing things that aren't there doesn't scare me.
no body knows this, i am a master in hiding things from everyone. They just think i am extra grumpy and snappy.
anyway like the little voice inside my head says ( or rather screams in this case ) you don't need to know this. there are so many more people who are a lot worse than i am.
CAT POO. CAT POO. CAT POO.
Why can some people write so eloquently about how they feel in an honest fashion where as i have to put a little hint of oh well life's not so bad on my things ?
I can drop little hints now and again, but then a voice inside coughs and says quietly " Don't harp on dear. No one wants to hear it."
So then we are back to cat poo. Cat poo is fast becoming a safety word. If things seem a little bit too uncomfortable CAT POO . I need to say how i am actually feeling CAT POO. i am about to be too honest about things CAT POO.
bloody cat poo.
truth is i haven't left the house since monday's journey from hell, where the only way i could stop a full blown no holds barred panic attack was to scratch three layers of skin from my left hand. The closest i have come to venturing out is standing at the backdoor. But i have to go out tomorrow and it's weighing heavy on my mind.
I don't like being me. I don't like what i have become and if i could turn back to clock to even as little as two years ago i would in a heart beat.
i see things moving dark shapes that i know aren't there. They don't scare me what does is that fact that seeing things that aren't there doesn't scare me.
no body knows this, i am a master in hiding things from everyone. They just think i am extra grumpy and snappy.
anyway like the little voice inside my head says ( or rather screams in this case ) you don't need to know this. there are so many more people who are a lot worse than i am.
CAT POO. CAT POO. CAT POO.
Wednesday 31 October 2012
Angry Pants
Actually i'm not angry i'm absolutely bloody steaming right now. I have had enough of the uneducated trolls who think that everyone who can't work for any reason should get off their lazy drug riddled arses and find a job.Most of the time i won't bite, not quite true the tip of my tongue has teeth marks in it on numerous occasions, this time though was a step too far.
On facebook i am a member of a fantastic page called Atos Miracles. Without this page i am confident in saying that i and a lot of other people would be even more afraid about the hell that our beloved government are thinking up for us. This page is a support to anyone and everyone who is fighting Atos, who quite frankly couldn't give a toss and i have learnt a great deal from it.
So tonight while wafting through facebook as you do i come across an entry for this page. Someone who is very scared and vulnerable just asking for help and advice. I's what the page is there for. What i did not expect when i read down the comments was someone who thought that because people are on facebook that automatically implies they can work, that they are worthless scroungers. I am being a lot politer than the troll that this came from.
NOW LET US GET A FEW THINGS STRAIGHT HERE MR TROLL.
unlike you who look the epitome of hooliganism obviously treating your body like a beer ,drugs and kebab temple every weekend when your job seekers allowance comes through , we can not work through serious mental of physical illness.
we are not the idiots that grace your screens on programmes like the Jeremy Kyle show or 999 what's your emergency, those so off their heads on drink and drugs that they are no good to man nor beast. those are the people that give us a bad name.
DO NOT DEGRADE US BY CATEGORIZING THESE PEOPLE WITH US THE GENUINELY ILL.
Let he who is without fault cast the first stone. we are vulnerable people who are judged daily and shunned by others. We are judged enough by various departmental bodies what we don't need is to be judged by the great unwashed on a social networking sight. Some of us aren't strong enough to fight back.
I genuinely hope that the person who put up the question/ cry for help gets the advice that they so greatly need.
As for Mr troll my dream is that he takes a long walk off a very short cliff .
and thus the pants have spoken.
On facebook i am a member of a fantastic page called Atos Miracles. Without this page i am confident in saying that i and a lot of other people would be even more afraid about the hell that our beloved government are thinking up for us. This page is a support to anyone and everyone who is fighting Atos, who quite frankly couldn't give a toss and i have learnt a great deal from it.
So tonight while wafting through facebook as you do i come across an entry for this page. Someone who is very scared and vulnerable just asking for help and advice. I's what the page is there for. What i did not expect when i read down the comments was someone who thought that because people are on facebook that automatically implies they can work, that they are worthless scroungers. I am being a lot politer than the troll that this came from.
NOW LET US GET A FEW THINGS STRAIGHT HERE MR TROLL.
unlike you who look the epitome of hooliganism obviously treating your body like a beer ,drugs and kebab temple every weekend when your job seekers allowance comes through , we can not work through serious mental of physical illness.
we are not the idiots that grace your screens on programmes like the Jeremy Kyle show or 999 what's your emergency, those so off their heads on drink and drugs that they are no good to man nor beast. those are the people that give us a bad name.
DO NOT DEGRADE US BY CATEGORIZING THESE PEOPLE WITH US THE GENUINELY ILL.
Let he who is without fault cast the first stone. we are vulnerable people who are judged daily and shunned by others. We are judged enough by various departmental bodies what we don't need is to be judged by the great unwashed on a social networking sight. Some of us aren't strong enough to fight back.
I genuinely hope that the person who put up the question/ cry for help gets the advice that they so greatly need.
As for Mr troll my dream is that he takes a long walk off a very short cliff .
and thus the pants have spoken.
Tuesday 23 October 2012
Because sometimes 140 characters just isnt enough
Today i went in search of cat food, not just any old cat food but the kind of cat food that none of the super markets seems to stock. I hate going out.Going out means noise and people and i'm not a fan of noise and people. But i was a hermit yesterday so today i had to venture.
First to the local post office. This is hidden at the back of a little corner shop that smells of curry and depending on the weather and time of day sweat and last nights booze consumption. If you time yourself correctly you can be in and out of there in under five minutes, if not then you are forced to Que behind the great unwashed most of whom seem to want to post parcels lots of parcels all around the world, very slowly. The more parcels the more movement, the more movement the bigger the smell. It's not pleasant.
Next the bus into town, stuffy, damp seats , old people with the added attraction of the dick head that thinks the whole bus wants to hear his phone conversation. No no we really don't care about your life, next time whisper you inconsiderate tit.
Finally off the bus and into the wall of sound. It's like being hurled head long into the rat race and then run over by several buggy's. the bank was hot, the staff unfriendly and the resident male and i were stuck behind a woman with a double buggy containing twin girls intent on killing each other loudly. One of them with gritted teeth bounced a plastic beaker off the side of the other ones head and the second small child screamed and managed to kick her sister in the side of the head. I'm still not sure how she managed to get her leg up that high seeing as she had the worlds baggiest nappy on.
Anyway off to the next shop this time to buy smelly things. we stood for a while scratching and sniffing, the air fresheners not each other, before deciding on a selection of fruity smells anything to hide the smell of cat and small boy works for me. and then home. I had been out for precisely an hour it had been a long hour, by the time we got in my head was spinning from the noise and the smells.
In forty minutes i have to go out again this time to get the fluffy one from school and throw him into his friends car to go to karate. My failed dieting is becoming even more failed. I have put in all my food so far on that fitness pal thing. I did know i was doomed when i entered a sausage roll and it laughed at me. although in other news the down stairs loo smells like an orange grove the kind of orange grove that rips your nose off and screams sniff the air i smell awsome bitch's. if that doesn't counter act the smell of small boys bottom nothing will.
and that is my day so far .
boring isn't it.
First to the local post office. This is hidden at the back of a little corner shop that smells of curry and depending on the weather and time of day sweat and last nights booze consumption. If you time yourself correctly you can be in and out of there in under five minutes, if not then you are forced to Que behind the great unwashed most of whom seem to want to post parcels lots of parcels all around the world, very slowly. The more parcels the more movement, the more movement the bigger the smell. It's not pleasant.
Next the bus into town, stuffy, damp seats , old people with the added attraction of the dick head that thinks the whole bus wants to hear his phone conversation. No no we really don't care about your life, next time whisper you inconsiderate tit.
Finally off the bus and into the wall of sound. It's like being hurled head long into the rat race and then run over by several buggy's. the bank was hot, the staff unfriendly and the resident male and i were stuck behind a woman with a double buggy containing twin girls intent on killing each other loudly. One of them with gritted teeth bounced a plastic beaker off the side of the other ones head and the second small child screamed and managed to kick her sister in the side of the head. I'm still not sure how she managed to get her leg up that high seeing as she had the worlds baggiest nappy on.
Anyway off to the next shop this time to buy smelly things. we stood for a while scratching and sniffing, the air fresheners not each other, before deciding on a selection of fruity smells anything to hide the smell of cat and small boy works for me. and then home. I had been out for precisely an hour it had been a long hour, by the time we got in my head was spinning from the noise and the smells.
In forty minutes i have to go out again this time to get the fluffy one from school and throw him into his friends car to go to karate. My failed dieting is becoming even more failed. I have put in all my food so far on that fitness pal thing. I did know i was doomed when i entered a sausage roll and it laughed at me. although in other news the down stairs loo smells like an orange grove the kind of orange grove that rips your nose off and screams sniff the air i smell awsome bitch's. if that doesn't counter act the smell of small boys bottom nothing will.
and that is my day so far .
boring isn't it.
Monday 15 October 2012
outings with adulf ( a needs must blog )
I love monday mornings . Mostly i would love to smack them in the side of the head with a septic fish head. Mondays signify the start of five mornings of school runs, alarm clocks that play the first three bars of an annoying song and then shut off. Fluffy having to be crow barred out of his pit kicking and screaming and wailing that he " feels sick, Has a head ache, Might die "
Today was no different apart from the fact that i grudgingly had to enlist the help of adulf father to the fluffy one. Seeing as mister fluff had managed to lose half his P.E kit i had to get replacements. The only reason i had to ask adulf is he has a car and the only place that does said school uniform is in the darkest reaches of Hounslow. So this morning fluffy had been drop kicked out of the door for school, cats had been fed, shit had been scooped and washing was on. Then adulf arrived and the white knuckle ride from hell began. Adulf is a bus driver. Anyone who has ever ridden on a bus will know that these drivers well most of them like the brake pedal , they absolutely adore the acceleration pedal and tend to use the two of them is quick succession. It's no different when you are in the passenger seat of their car. The only thing that is different is that they play crap music and talk at you while you sit with your nails embedded in the seat praying for a quick death.
He missed not one but two turnings, he complained at most of the other drivers that got in his way and he farted and burped his way through the whole journey. And then we got out of the car. Adulf in his alpha male mode had a map to said shop. He pulled out the map and muttered for a moment while i was busily hitching up my trousers which had begun a love affair with gravity. I had no idea where we were going, neither did he although he had a map, added to which my trousers and my undies had decided that down was the only way to go. It is impossible to be subtle when trying to rearrange your under clothes every three steps, your pants have found a safe haven by the backs of your knees and your trousers are threatening to follow them. He asked five people for directions. Five people all pointed to different places. we were still lost and by now i really was regretting that last vat of tea i had before leaving pants palace.
Then we saw a parking attendant, adulf went in for the kill and with his usual polite way began speaking,
"excuse me mate ( burp ) can you elp us ( burp ) we're looking for this place it's somewhere round here ( sniff belch ) "
First thing the man does is take the map from adulf's hand and turn it round the other way. He had been reading it upside down for the last twenty minutes. Now with correct directions it was actually just down the road we managed to find the shop. A school jumper, a pair of school shorts , a reversible rugby shirt and two white P.E shirts later we were out. half an hour later i was home to find cats rampaging about and the resident male had finally managed to rig up sky to the bedroom. It had only taken him all weekend to get it to work. Only thing now there is wire trailing the stairs as someone miscalculated the tack to wire ratio.
I have a feeling this week is going to be a challenge.
Today was no different apart from the fact that i grudgingly had to enlist the help of adulf father to the fluffy one. Seeing as mister fluff had managed to lose half his P.E kit i had to get replacements. The only reason i had to ask adulf is he has a car and the only place that does said school uniform is in the darkest reaches of Hounslow. So this morning fluffy had been drop kicked out of the door for school, cats had been fed, shit had been scooped and washing was on. Then adulf arrived and the white knuckle ride from hell began. Adulf is a bus driver. Anyone who has ever ridden on a bus will know that these drivers well most of them like the brake pedal , they absolutely adore the acceleration pedal and tend to use the two of them is quick succession. It's no different when you are in the passenger seat of their car. The only thing that is different is that they play crap music and talk at you while you sit with your nails embedded in the seat praying for a quick death.
He missed not one but two turnings, he complained at most of the other drivers that got in his way and he farted and burped his way through the whole journey. And then we got out of the car. Adulf in his alpha male mode had a map to said shop. He pulled out the map and muttered for a moment while i was busily hitching up my trousers which had begun a love affair with gravity. I had no idea where we were going, neither did he although he had a map, added to which my trousers and my undies had decided that down was the only way to go. It is impossible to be subtle when trying to rearrange your under clothes every three steps, your pants have found a safe haven by the backs of your knees and your trousers are threatening to follow them. He asked five people for directions. Five people all pointed to different places. we were still lost and by now i really was regretting that last vat of tea i had before leaving pants palace.
Then we saw a parking attendant, adulf went in for the kill and with his usual polite way began speaking,
"excuse me mate ( burp ) can you elp us ( burp ) we're looking for this place it's somewhere round here ( sniff belch ) "
First thing the man does is take the map from adulf's hand and turn it round the other way. He had been reading it upside down for the last twenty minutes. Now with correct directions it was actually just down the road we managed to find the shop. A school jumper, a pair of school shorts , a reversible rugby shirt and two white P.E shirts later we were out. half an hour later i was home to find cats rampaging about and the resident male had finally managed to rig up sky to the bedroom. It had only taken him all weekend to get it to work. Only thing now there is wire trailing the stairs as someone miscalculated the tack to wire ratio.
I have a feeling this week is going to be a challenge.
Wednesday 10 October 2012
Atos bloody Atos ( the tribunal )
In my last blog i told you about my experience with the work capability assessment process. Well after that and due to the fact i was appealing things went very quiet for a while. Slowly money began trickling back. I was able to but food pay a few bills and continue existing for a while. I was lulled into a false sense of security, maybe they had forgotten about me ?
For a while it looked as if they had. Then it came crashing through the postbox like an avenging angel. My tribunal letter detailing time and date and where they wanted to see me. I was being sent to a hotel in Watford. I had no idea how to get there, i wasn't even sure where Watford was from where i lived. Heart racing i phoned them asking if there was anywhere else they could send me. The answer to that was a resounding not a chance, it's easy to get to by car they told me. I don't drive, i told them shakily and then asked if they could send me directions to this place.They told me they could.
The directions never arrived. Next i tried to get some form of legal advice. I spoke to a lovely lady on the phone who said they couldnt help me unless i had some form of proof i was on benefit. Couldn't do that either because i wasn't strictly on anything at that time i was appealing to get something. So that was that. Once again i was on my own about to embark on a magical mystery tour from hell. I stopped being able to sleep for any long amount of time, an hour here an hour there was all i could manage. My anxiety ridden short fuse was non existent by now, the slightest thing that went wrong in the house sent me into a ranting free fall. I stopped caring about anything.I refused the flu jab hoping i would get something nasty and die from it, same with the smear test. who cares i thought i'm sunk anyway.
The day came. Armed with a couple of bus maps i manged to find which i covered with marker pen i left at eleven o'clock for an appointment at three. Waiting for the first bus i began to shake. Everywhere there were people, everywhere there was noise. Nothing felt safe. I begun to absentmindedly scratch my hands. The bus came and i slid onto it finding myself a window seat. I wasn't sure where to get off to get the connecting bus. I kept checking the time scared i was going to late. I didnt know where i was going, my eyes were glued to my timetable. An hour later i made it off the first bus and onto the second. I was cold, i couldn't feel my feet. I spent the journey with my nose pressed to the window. I wanted to disappear. Another hour passed and i managed to get to the last stop of my journey. The bus had stopped on a little housing estate. According to my notes it was only a short walk to the hotel. I had plenty of time to get there so i followed the directions i had and began walking.
The only thing i now remember about the hotel was that it was next to a Toby Carvery on the other side of a four lane motorway and there wasn't a crossing in sight. How the hell was i supposed to get across to this place? i paced up and down the road as the traffic whizzed past. I had to cross there was nothing else i could do. I can't remember breathing till i knew i was across. I felt sick with fear but i had made it. I found the place and was signed in and taken to a waiting room. There i sat and waited rubbing my hands and watching the floor.
I wasn't the only one who had a tribunal that day. soon i was joined by another three people who were armed with what looked like a library of solicitors notes. While i was shaking and scratching the skin off my hands they were discussing their next holiday to turkey and wondering how anyone without a car could have made it here.
I waited an hour to be seen by that point i was tired cold hungry as i hadn't eaten all day, and tearful but i wasn't about to let my emotions get the better of me, not yet. someone came and got me and showed me to another room, i was barely coherent by this point. I just wanted to go home. The two people that i saw soon realized this. as soon as i had been told to take a seat the emotional flood gates opened and i didnt give them a chance to ask anything or speak for a while.
I told them straight that i hoped they realized that if they upheld the assessment they would be making me homeless and my son would go into care. I didnt expect them to believe me i didnt expect them to understand but this was breaking me and i told them so. The doctor managed to ask me some questions about how my life was. What my routine was like, how i managed and watched as i tried to string a sentence together while scratching layers of skin off my hands which were now red raw and weeping.
I won my tribunal. They told me there and then, but i didnt dare believe them. I still had to make it home. i wasn't safe till i did. It took me three hours to get home, by that time i was tired my hands were agony and all i wanted to do was sleep.
But i had won and for now i was safe.
Then a month later i got another letter.
Dear Miss freeman you are now due to come for a work capability assessment.......
and so it began again.
For a while it looked as if they had. Then it came crashing through the postbox like an avenging angel. My tribunal letter detailing time and date and where they wanted to see me. I was being sent to a hotel in Watford. I had no idea how to get there, i wasn't even sure where Watford was from where i lived. Heart racing i phoned them asking if there was anywhere else they could send me. The answer to that was a resounding not a chance, it's easy to get to by car they told me. I don't drive, i told them shakily and then asked if they could send me directions to this place.They told me they could.
The directions never arrived. Next i tried to get some form of legal advice. I spoke to a lovely lady on the phone who said they couldnt help me unless i had some form of proof i was on benefit. Couldn't do that either because i wasn't strictly on anything at that time i was appealing to get something. So that was that. Once again i was on my own about to embark on a magical mystery tour from hell. I stopped being able to sleep for any long amount of time, an hour here an hour there was all i could manage. My anxiety ridden short fuse was non existent by now, the slightest thing that went wrong in the house sent me into a ranting free fall. I stopped caring about anything.I refused the flu jab hoping i would get something nasty and die from it, same with the smear test. who cares i thought i'm sunk anyway.
The day came. Armed with a couple of bus maps i manged to find which i covered with marker pen i left at eleven o'clock for an appointment at three. Waiting for the first bus i began to shake. Everywhere there were people, everywhere there was noise. Nothing felt safe. I begun to absentmindedly scratch my hands. The bus came and i slid onto it finding myself a window seat. I wasn't sure where to get off to get the connecting bus. I kept checking the time scared i was going to late. I didnt know where i was going, my eyes were glued to my timetable. An hour later i made it off the first bus and onto the second. I was cold, i couldn't feel my feet. I spent the journey with my nose pressed to the window. I wanted to disappear. Another hour passed and i managed to get to the last stop of my journey. The bus had stopped on a little housing estate. According to my notes it was only a short walk to the hotel. I had plenty of time to get there so i followed the directions i had and began walking.
The only thing i now remember about the hotel was that it was next to a Toby Carvery on the other side of a four lane motorway and there wasn't a crossing in sight. How the hell was i supposed to get across to this place? i paced up and down the road as the traffic whizzed past. I had to cross there was nothing else i could do. I can't remember breathing till i knew i was across. I felt sick with fear but i had made it. I found the place and was signed in and taken to a waiting room. There i sat and waited rubbing my hands and watching the floor.
I wasn't the only one who had a tribunal that day. soon i was joined by another three people who were armed with what looked like a library of solicitors notes. While i was shaking and scratching the skin off my hands they were discussing their next holiday to turkey and wondering how anyone without a car could have made it here.
I waited an hour to be seen by that point i was tired cold hungry as i hadn't eaten all day, and tearful but i wasn't about to let my emotions get the better of me, not yet. someone came and got me and showed me to another room, i was barely coherent by this point. I just wanted to go home. The two people that i saw soon realized this. as soon as i had been told to take a seat the emotional flood gates opened and i didnt give them a chance to ask anything or speak for a while.
I told them straight that i hoped they realized that if they upheld the assessment they would be making me homeless and my son would go into care. I didnt expect them to believe me i didnt expect them to understand but this was breaking me and i told them so. The doctor managed to ask me some questions about how my life was. What my routine was like, how i managed and watched as i tried to string a sentence together while scratching layers of skin off my hands which were now red raw and weeping.
I won my tribunal. They told me there and then, but i didnt dare believe them. I still had to make it home. i wasn't safe till i did. It took me three hours to get home, by that time i was tired my hands were agony and all i wanted to do was sleep.
But i had won and for now i was safe.
Then a month later i got another letter.
Dear Miss freeman you are now due to come for a work capability assessment.......
and so it began again.
Saturday 6 October 2012
Atos bloody Atos.
So you hear about these people on the news. You have heard the stories, the injustice, the deaths, the hardship they and the department of work and pensions course. Some of us are living it.
This is my story.
It starts the way all horror stories start with a form that could send an Amazonion rain forest into freefall. People sometimes say they can remember where they were when Kennedy was shot, well i remember where i was when this thing came crashing through my letterbox. I remember the gut wrenching panic of the brown envelope. I remember it took me a week to fill it out. Everytime i picked up a pen i felt physically sick. none of the questions they asked had anything to do with me or anything about my illness. Was i a fraud ? Maybe i was the only fraud that didn't know how to " Play the system?" . well i sent it back and tried to ignore the fact that sometime another letter thing would invade my home this time with an appointment on it. Sure enough about a month or two after i got another lovely letter saying that they wanted me to come for a medical assessment. They even sent a badly designed map to show me how lost i could actually get. Luckily the place i was going to wasn't horrendously far. Only one bus there and one back. For someone who doesn't travel well on her own to familiar places let alone somewhere new this was of small comfort.
I went. I spent my bus journey crammed nose to the window muttering to myself reminding myself how many stops i had to go. Even then i missed the stop and had to walk back, retracing the steps i hadn't taken before. so i made it all the way up the three flights of stairs past the big untidy scary looking pitbull of a security guard and into an over heated waiting room. I waited there for an hour and a half untill i was seen. By this time i was mentally shutting down, high alert has been replaced by a need to sleep and shut it all out. It was too hot and i was the only one there on my own without a family member, advocate or social worker there with me. Well i must be ok i got there all by myself.
the actual assessment took a whole TWELVE yes twelve minutes. Of course you can gauge someones mental state in that time can't you? And when you are tucked behind a computer screen the size of a forty two inch tv, and firing questions like;
"How often do you wash?"
"Where do you do your shopping."
"Who comes to your house?"
"Can you cook for your son?"
the little matter of eye contact and actually observing the person sitting hunched over in a seat that has been placed right in the middle of a room with barred windows seems somewhat over rated doesn't it.
And breath.
So that was assessment number one.
In the grand tradition of the eurovision I scored a grand total of nil, zero, ziltch, not a fucking sausage nothing. I was effectively screwed. so i appealed. i had no choice i phoned them as soon as i got the letter. all my income had stopped. It was November at this point. Luckily the fluffy one at that time was spending most of his time with his dad. His dad could afford to feed him. I on the other hand had a bout fifteen pounds to my name and a choice of food or heat. I spent a lot of the time wearing at least two jumpers and wrapping myself in a blanket for warmth while fighting the council who were now asking for money and the dept collectors who were doing the same.
I stopped taking my medication. What was the point i asked myself. i stopped sleeping, spent hours wrapped in a bundle of despair on the sofa. I felt alone i was alone really, days of never venturing outside, not changing my clothes, not really functioning waiting for the next thing to hit. It's what you do when things happen that rock your world and the one place you feel truly safe is the one thing that people are trying to take away from you.
It was six weeks before i was paid any money again, i coped i think just. I had to write to them telling them how and why i was appealing. They had sent me a file of my assessment. It was the best piece of fiction i had ever read. I hadn't told them any of what they had written in their paper. In fact the most worrying thing about it all was that along with my information was someone elses assessment information. They had in fact put the two of them together and then sent it all to me. My five page letter of the how's and the why's of why they had got it all so wrong was sent off and then came the wait for my tribunal date.
I did think that i would be able to write the whole of this story as one blog but as i write this i realize that i need to go away clear my thoughts and come back. So this is part one of my story, my fight, my on going battle with the lords of the Apocalypse known only as Atos the killers of men and women who deserve more respect and help and support than they are ever given.
So for now i will leave you with this. next time i will write about the tribunal.
For now though the pants have spoken.
This is my story.
It starts the way all horror stories start with a form that could send an Amazonion rain forest into freefall. People sometimes say they can remember where they were when Kennedy was shot, well i remember where i was when this thing came crashing through my letterbox. I remember the gut wrenching panic of the brown envelope. I remember it took me a week to fill it out. Everytime i picked up a pen i felt physically sick. none of the questions they asked had anything to do with me or anything about my illness. Was i a fraud ? Maybe i was the only fraud that didn't know how to " Play the system?" . well i sent it back and tried to ignore the fact that sometime another letter thing would invade my home this time with an appointment on it. Sure enough about a month or two after i got another lovely letter saying that they wanted me to come for a medical assessment. They even sent a badly designed map to show me how lost i could actually get. Luckily the place i was going to wasn't horrendously far. Only one bus there and one back. For someone who doesn't travel well on her own to familiar places let alone somewhere new this was of small comfort.
I went. I spent my bus journey crammed nose to the window muttering to myself reminding myself how many stops i had to go. Even then i missed the stop and had to walk back, retracing the steps i hadn't taken before. so i made it all the way up the three flights of stairs past the big untidy scary looking pitbull of a security guard and into an over heated waiting room. I waited there for an hour and a half untill i was seen. By this time i was mentally shutting down, high alert has been replaced by a need to sleep and shut it all out. It was too hot and i was the only one there on my own without a family member, advocate or social worker there with me. Well i must be ok i got there all by myself.
the actual assessment took a whole TWELVE yes twelve minutes. Of course you can gauge someones mental state in that time can't you? And when you are tucked behind a computer screen the size of a forty two inch tv, and firing questions like;
"How often do you wash?"
"Where do you do your shopping."
"Who comes to your house?"
"Can you cook for your son?"
the little matter of eye contact and actually observing the person sitting hunched over in a seat that has been placed right in the middle of a room with barred windows seems somewhat over rated doesn't it.
And breath.
So that was assessment number one.
In the grand tradition of the eurovision I scored a grand total of nil, zero, ziltch, not a fucking sausage nothing. I was effectively screwed. so i appealed. i had no choice i phoned them as soon as i got the letter. all my income had stopped. It was November at this point. Luckily the fluffy one at that time was spending most of his time with his dad. His dad could afford to feed him. I on the other hand had a bout fifteen pounds to my name and a choice of food or heat. I spent a lot of the time wearing at least two jumpers and wrapping myself in a blanket for warmth while fighting the council who were now asking for money and the dept collectors who were doing the same.
I stopped taking my medication. What was the point i asked myself. i stopped sleeping, spent hours wrapped in a bundle of despair on the sofa. I felt alone i was alone really, days of never venturing outside, not changing my clothes, not really functioning waiting for the next thing to hit. It's what you do when things happen that rock your world and the one place you feel truly safe is the one thing that people are trying to take away from you.
It was six weeks before i was paid any money again, i coped i think just. I had to write to them telling them how and why i was appealing. They had sent me a file of my assessment. It was the best piece of fiction i had ever read. I hadn't told them any of what they had written in their paper. In fact the most worrying thing about it all was that along with my information was someone elses assessment information. They had in fact put the two of them together and then sent it all to me. My five page letter of the how's and the why's of why they had got it all so wrong was sent off and then came the wait for my tribunal date.
I did think that i would be able to write the whole of this story as one blog but as i write this i realize that i need to go away clear my thoughts and come back. So this is part one of my story, my fight, my on going battle with the lords of the Apocalypse known only as Atos the killers of men and women who deserve more respect and help and support than they are ever given.
So for now i will leave you with this. next time i will write about the tribunal.
For now though the pants have spoken.
Saturday 14 July 2012
you know your on a diet when
for the last two months i have been on a calorie controlled diet thingy. Now for a chocolate and cake loving fatso like myself this is no mean feet. But it seems to have worked. For the first month i was perminantly starving, grumpy , and muttering to myself about how sodding unfair it all was and in a total panic about what to eat. Then my clothes began to let me breath. Instead of eating chocolate, i would sniff it longingly and then actually give it back and not ram it into my podgy little mouth. So far i have lost just over a stone. Two weeks ago i slipped and fell straight into a domino's pizza offer, but apart from that i think i have survived this relatively unscathed.
some things have changed mind you.
You know your on a diet when,
In iceland doing the weekly shop you start to check the calorie content on the packets of biscuits before sighing and putting them back.
When someone says a type of food you can immediately tell them exactly how many calories are in it.
If someone asks you if you want a bite of something, you reply " no but can i have a sniff"
Your plate of carefully measured out food looks like everyone else s left overs.
Instead of just serving up tea You have to carefully weigh out everything and then panic if it goes one over your allotted amount.
You find a new respect for vegetables and your one veg a day becomes, six pieces of fruit and two lots of veg a day.
see i'm not obsessed honest, well maybe a bit.
some things have changed mind you.
You know your on a diet when,
In iceland doing the weekly shop you start to check the calorie content on the packets of biscuits before sighing and putting them back.
When someone says a type of food you can immediately tell them exactly how many calories are in it.
If someone asks you if you want a bite of something, you reply " no but can i have a sniff"
Your plate of carefully measured out food looks like everyone else s left overs.
Instead of just serving up tea You have to carefully weigh out everything and then panic if it goes one over your allotted amount.
You find a new respect for vegetables and your one veg a day becomes, six pieces of fruit and two lots of veg a day.
see i'm not obsessed honest, well maybe a bit.
Sunday 8 July 2012
that certain day that comes once a year
yesterday i turned forty . i also waved my son off to yet more karate practice and swimming. i fed cats i did two loads of washing and caught up on all the things i had recorded on the sky box. i tidied the house well when i say tidied that just means i moved piles of mess from one room to another where i wouldn't have to look at it.
You see i don't do birthdays. I havent done birthdays for years now. It has also taken that amount of time for me to train the people near me not to ask the " what do you want for your birthday ?" question. I hate that question. it annoys me to my very core. If i want anything i will either save up and get it myself or i will go without, it's that simple. Birthdays have always been a disaster.
When i was younger and was still looking forward to them, my parentals would hide the gifts in the bottom of an old 1920's wardrobe they had. Until one year that is when the key broke in the lock and no one could get the presents out. It took hours, when your a child no presents on that so called special day pretty much equals the end of your world. It only happened to me, never my siblings.
Then there were the children's parties where you have to invite your class mates to celebrate with you. I was not a popular child at school. I was the fat awkward one who was painfully shy. the teachers thought i was a joy, the children didn't. But when you invite them they will come and pretend that they like you. Funny what cake can do isn't it. I remember one year i had been given roller skates, i loved these things and hadn't even had a chance to try them on. i was saving them for a quiet moment. I didnt want them spoilt, so they had stayed in the box. Then the class mates descended, routed through the things i had been given. The thing with children , well these ones anyway was that even though most of these things were still in boxes and i hadn't had time to play with them that didn't matter. boxes were opened things were taken and played with , my roller skates were worn and then broken before i had had a chance to enjoy them. That was the last party i ever had.
So when anyone asks me what i intend to do for my birthday, i don't give them an answer. I'm not about to go out and drink myself into a coma. I'm not about to party the night away. After all it's just another day.
You see i don't do birthdays. I havent done birthdays for years now. It has also taken that amount of time for me to train the people near me not to ask the " what do you want for your birthday ?" question. I hate that question. it annoys me to my very core. If i want anything i will either save up and get it myself or i will go without, it's that simple. Birthdays have always been a disaster.
When i was younger and was still looking forward to them, my parentals would hide the gifts in the bottom of an old 1920's wardrobe they had. Until one year that is when the key broke in the lock and no one could get the presents out. It took hours, when your a child no presents on that so called special day pretty much equals the end of your world. It only happened to me, never my siblings.
Then there were the children's parties where you have to invite your class mates to celebrate with you. I was not a popular child at school. I was the fat awkward one who was painfully shy. the teachers thought i was a joy, the children didn't. But when you invite them they will come and pretend that they like you. Funny what cake can do isn't it. I remember one year i had been given roller skates, i loved these things and hadn't even had a chance to try them on. i was saving them for a quiet moment. I didnt want them spoilt, so they had stayed in the box. Then the class mates descended, routed through the things i had been given. The thing with children , well these ones anyway was that even though most of these things were still in boxes and i hadn't had time to play with them that didn't matter. boxes were opened things were taken and played with , my roller skates were worn and then broken before i had had a chance to enjoy them. That was the last party i ever had.
So when anyone asks me what i intend to do for my birthday, i don't give them an answer. I'm not about to go out and drink myself into a coma. I'm not about to party the night away. After all it's just another day.
Monday 2 July 2012
the cat poo chronicles
Fluffy was not at school today, apparently there was a teachers training day. So yesterday he went off with a friend of his armed with his karate kit, his swimming kit, two tennis rackets and a football. They had so much fun that he ended up staying the night. So what has this got to do with cat poo i hear you ask. Well this morning we get up, throw on some clothes and wander down stairs where the cats have been all night.
As soon as we open the door to the front room the smell hits us. The squiting kitten has done it again but none of us can see where. Slowly we come into the room , each of us studying the furniture with a sense of dread.
the cats are circling our feet meowing " feed me " sir looks across at me and mumbles half asleep,
"Can't see any of the furniture." and we continue on slowly watching the floor for tell tale splats. That's when my phone rings. It's fluffy asking if his friend can come round for the day. I had to say yes after all if was only fair. he had spent the day and night over at his friends. We had half an hour to discover the mess and air out the whole of downstairs.
I opened as many windows as i could find, while still on the phone. Sir disappeared into the kitchen and came back armed with cleaning wipes kitchen roll and gloves. I watched as he knelt under my desk and pointed to the source of the smell. the kitten had crapped right under my desk. we had less than twenty minutes to clear it and pray the smell went away.
The thing with poo is once you find the main problem you end up finding a map of wear it has been walked over the floor boards and then lovingly squashed into the cat blanket. cat blanket was thrown into the washing machine, floor was scrubbed, poo was scraped , words were said mostly along the lines of " that fucking cat will end up as bloody dog food." and " the smell isn't going "
It got to the point where we were leaving the room waiting for a few seconds and then coming back into it sniffing and then spraying a bit more. it seemed like seconds to go and finally the smell was cleared. we had gotten away with it. Just as fluffy and his friend turned up. Luckily no one said anything about the smell.
kittens are cute but my god are they hard work.
As soon as we open the door to the front room the smell hits us. The squiting kitten has done it again but none of us can see where. Slowly we come into the room , each of us studying the furniture with a sense of dread.
the cats are circling our feet meowing " feed me " sir looks across at me and mumbles half asleep,
"Can't see any of the furniture." and we continue on slowly watching the floor for tell tale splats. That's when my phone rings. It's fluffy asking if his friend can come round for the day. I had to say yes after all if was only fair. he had spent the day and night over at his friends. We had half an hour to discover the mess and air out the whole of downstairs.
I opened as many windows as i could find, while still on the phone. Sir disappeared into the kitchen and came back armed with cleaning wipes kitchen roll and gloves. I watched as he knelt under my desk and pointed to the source of the smell. the kitten had crapped right under my desk. we had less than twenty minutes to clear it and pray the smell went away.
The thing with poo is once you find the main problem you end up finding a map of wear it has been walked over the floor boards and then lovingly squashed into the cat blanket. cat blanket was thrown into the washing machine, floor was scrubbed, poo was scraped , words were said mostly along the lines of " that fucking cat will end up as bloody dog food." and " the smell isn't going "
It got to the point where we were leaving the room waiting for a few seconds and then coming back into it sniffing and then spraying a bit more. it seemed like seconds to go and finally the smell was cleared. we had gotten away with it. Just as fluffy and his friend turned up. Luckily no one said anything about the smell.
kittens are cute but my god are they hard work.
Saturday 30 June 2012
while i've been away
so it seems another life time since i last wrote or did anything, actually it's been about a month. I'm not quite so jibbery now. In fact i keep singing to myself " I can see clearly now the drugs kicked in." so slowly but surely i am returning to some form of normality what ever the hell that is.
House still looks like a huge bomb got dropped and then covered every available surface with cat hair, but i tackle things like that one step at a time. First i swear at it and try to ignore it. Then i complain about it and hope that someone else will do it. Finally i end up doing it grudgingly grumpily but it gets done, until the next time anyone runs out of under wear or the cat sits on something and covers it in a layer of fur.
the fluffy one joined Karate he is now an orange belt and is loving his new found sport. It helps that one of his friends goes to the same thing.
Oh and we have not one cat but two. She has been with us for about two weeks now and is eleven weeks old. we have called her widget. i think she must be the fartiest kitten ever known to man. so far she has thrown up on fluffy's lunch box ( we didn't tell him ) and managed to either wipe her bum or actually trail poo round the kitchen and front room. Procrastination man has been poo'd on twice i have escaped the poo i just clear it up. Next week i am looking at taking out shares in vanish and fabreeze . but she is very sweet when she isn't being farty, the ratio of accidental poo to dirt tray poo is now getting back on track and psycho kitty is liking the company.
so that's me getting better doing things and trying to get back on track. i might just get keep taking the tablets tattooed somewhere well either that or the word arse.
until next time.
House still looks like a huge bomb got dropped and then covered every available surface with cat hair, but i tackle things like that one step at a time. First i swear at it and try to ignore it. Then i complain about it and hope that someone else will do it. Finally i end up doing it grudgingly grumpily but it gets done, until the next time anyone runs out of under wear or the cat sits on something and covers it in a layer of fur.
the fluffy one joined Karate he is now an orange belt and is loving his new found sport. It helps that one of his friends goes to the same thing.
Oh and we have not one cat but two. She has been with us for about two weeks now and is eleven weeks old. we have called her widget. i think she must be the fartiest kitten ever known to man. so far she has thrown up on fluffy's lunch box ( we didn't tell him ) and managed to either wipe her bum or actually trail poo round the kitchen and front room. Procrastination man has been poo'd on twice i have escaped the poo i just clear it up. Next week i am looking at taking out shares in vanish and fabreeze . but she is very sweet when she isn't being farty, the ratio of accidental poo to dirt tray poo is now getting back on track and psycho kitty is liking the company.
so that's me getting better doing things and trying to get back on track. i might just get keep taking the tablets tattooed somewhere well either that or the word arse.
until next time.
Tuesday 29 May 2012
battle pants
my mind is at war. for a while now i have felt unwell, down, something hasn't been right. Little things seem like mountains i have to climb. The unexpected turns me into a scared angry person. I see shadows out of the corners of my eyes and then when i turn nothing is there. I seem to sleep alot of the time or not at all. I can't focus or settle i am distracted. The more i think the less i feel and then huge waves of angst hit me , my heart pounds i want to cry or scream or do something but i don't.
On the outside i seem fine but my mind is at war.
I will get better. i have little white pills that at the moment make me dizzy and sick and give me a feeling of falling down, but that will go. I will get better not cured but ok again.
On the outside i seem fine but my mind is at war.
I will get better. i have little white pills that at the moment make me dizzy and sick and give me a feeling of falling down, but that will go. I will get better not cured but ok again.
Sunday 15 April 2012
i say a little pray for sleep
Right insomnia you and i need to have words.
Is there any chance that tonight you will let me sleep in more than two hours bursts ?
I really don't want to be waking up on the hour every bloody single silent hour tonight.
I don't want my pj bottoms to be making their way up every crevice imaginable, slowly strangling my intestines. While the legs look like i belong to the masons. It's not a good look for anyone.
If i go with night wear option two and wear a night shirt i would like it to stay in one place, and for that place not to be permanently around my ears.
It would be nice if the cat would realize that if my legs do twitch at night, it's not because i want to wake up with her attached to my big toe. I would like to be able to stick one of both feet out of the end of the bed without fear of small furry attack .
I would also like you to see to it that i get my allotted side of the bed, all of it not the three millimeters i am usually given. It would also be nice if i didn't have so much cover. The hot flushes of middle age are rapidly gaining on me i don't need to be cocooned.
See i don't ask for much do i?
really on the grand scale of things i want very little.
Just sleep.
Is there any chance that tonight you will let me sleep in more than two hours bursts ?
I really don't want to be waking up on the hour every bloody single silent hour tonight.
I don't want my pj bottoms to be making their way up every crevice imaginable, slowly strangling my intestines. While the legs look like i belong to the masons. It's not a good look for anyone.
If i go with night wear option two and wear a night shirt i would like it to stay in one place, and for that place not to be permanently around my ears.
It would be nice if the cat would realize that if my legs do twitch at night, it's not because i want to wake up with her attached to my big toe. I would like to be able to stick one of both feet out of the end of the bed without fear of small furry attack .
I would also like you to see to it that i get my allotted side of the bed, all of it not the three millimeters i am usually given. It would also be nice if i didn't have so much cover. The hot flushes of middle age are rapidly gaining on me i don't need to be cocooned.
See i don't ask for much do i?
really on the grand scale of things i want very little.
Just sleep.
Monday 9 April 2012
Being Pants
I remember when i first joined twitter. It was two or so years ago now. I had drunk too much coffee and was awake at 4.30am, so i thought why not.I finally had internet access after years of fighting against it. I'm not one for change, but sometimes it's like trying to hold back a tidal wave. Whatever happens your bound to get wet so you may as well stand back and let the inevitable happen. Anyhow that was the idea, give twitter a chance, find a voice. After all i had things to say didn't i? So why not do it somewhere that no one knows you, you know no one and then you can say what ever you want to. Well that was the idea back then.
For a while that worked. I wasn't just someone who didn't see or hear from anyone for days on end. I had a window to the outside world. Suddenly with Twitter @Pantsbum was born. I was free to say what i wanted. I could swear and i did. i could have opinions people would normally suck their teeth at in real life, but here i didn't care. It was a case of look out world the pants have landed in all their couldn't give a shit glory.
So what happened?
Suddenly ( not in the overnight success sense ) I was popular. People found me amusing and not an embarrassment. After years, decades even of trying to conform i found i didn't have to. I was free. For a while i had a voice and i wasn't ashamed of using it.
But then the inevitable happens. People complain. I get phone calls from family members telling me that in no uncertain terms that my opinion isn't welcome. I shouldn't be writing the things that i do. Strangers sometimes take that line. I even had people that i didn't know telling me to go jump off a cliff no one wants to read my blog, my tweets. I'm a pathetic individual ect ect. why don't i just go and die?
So i get a little angry, but those storms are weathered. I don't write about my anger the way i used to. I go back to sucking it up and saying nothing, the way i always did. But i loose my touch, my ability to say what i feel. I can't do that anymore. I find myself over analyzing everything. Can i have this thought ? Would this thought be approved of or would it be deemed inappropriate for general release ?
thinking back the death knell came when someone whose opinion i valued, who had encouraged me to start my blog, and even found me someone who could help me set it up, told me he thought i had lost my touch. Thinking back he was right. We don't speak anymore, haven't for about a year now, because i threw my collective toys out of my pram and in a not very adult way blanked him after that. I was a fool and now he will probably never know how much i am grateful to him for the encouragement he gave all those years ago. It's good when people believe in you and those are the people that matter above all others.
So where am i now ?
After a year of very unfunny , not particularly ranty and completely uninspired tweetings and the odd blog, i have discovered some things about myself.
I need to stop trying and just start being.
I need to stop listening to the ones who say i can't and start believing in the ones who say i can.
I may not always be someone's cup of tea and that's fine.
I am an embarrassment and that's fine to.
I need to stop being ashamed of who i am.
So now is the time to stop hiding.
I'm not perfect. Perfection is overrated.
I'm a forty year old who wears hightops, likes jumpers with skulls on them and listens to anything from classical to drum and base and dubstep.
It's ok not to be popular and most importantly of all I'm fine with being me.
I will still be pants just pants reborn.
P- persistent
A- and
N- not
T- taking
S- shit
That's being Pants.
For a while that worked. I wasn't just someone who didn't see or hear from anyone for days on end. I had a window to the outside world. Suddenly with Twitter @Pantsbum was born. I was free to say what i wanted. I could swear and i did. i could have opinions people would normally suck their teeth at in real life, but here i didn't care. It was a case of look out world the pants have landed in all their couldn't give a shit glory.
So what happened?
Suddenly ( not in the overnight success sense ) I was popular. People found me amusing and not an embarrassment. After years, decades even of trying to conform i found i didn't have to. I was free. For a while i had a voice and i wasn't ashamed of using it.
But then the inevitable happens. People complain. I get phone calls from family members telling me that in no uncertain terms that my opinion isn't welcome. I shouldn't be writing the things that i do. Strangers sometimes take that line. I even had people that i didn't know telling me to go jump off a cliff no one wants to read my blog, my tweets. I'm a pathetic individual ect ect. why don't i just go and die?
So i get a little angry, but those storms are weathered. I don't write about my anger the way i used to. I go back to sucking it up and saying nothing, the way i always did. But i loose my touch, my ability to say what i feel. I can't do that anymore. I find myself over analyzing everything. Can i have this thought ? Would this thought be approved of or would it be deemed inappropriate for general release ?
thinking back the death knell came when someone whose opinion i valued, who had encouraged me to start my blog, and even found me someone who could help me set it up, told me he thought i had lost my touch. Thinking back he was right. We don't speak anymore, haven't for about a year now, because i threw my collective toys out of my pram and in a not very adult way blanked him after that. I was a fool and now he will probably never know how much i am grateful to him for the encouragement he gave all those years ago. It's good when people believe in you and those are the people that matter above all others.
So where am i now ?
After a year of very unfunny , not particularly ranty and completely uninspired tweetings and the odd blog, i have discovered some things about myself.
I need to stop trying and just start being.
I need to stop listening to the ones who say i can't and start believing in the ones who say i can.
I may not always be someone's cup of tea and that's fine.
I am an embarrassment and that's fine to.
I need to stop being ashamed of who i am.
So now is the time to stop hiding.
I'm not perfect. Perfection is overrated.
I'm a forty year old who wears hightops, likes jumpers with skulls on them and listens to anything from classical to drum and base and dubstep.
It's ok not to be popular and most importantly of all I'm fine with being me.
I will still be pants just pants reborn.
P- persistent
A- and
N- not
T- taking
S- shit
That's being Pants.
Sunday 1 April 2012
Don't put the fluffy one on a t-shirt Mrs worthington
So last week i finally got round to the fun part of easter shopping, no not the eggs they would have melted in the sun and thus i would have had to eat them as a quality control measure. I haven't got round to getting them yet, but better than chocolate eggs what says i love you more than ( drum roll please ) a t-shirt . Not any old t-shirt though but a personalized one. Yes i can hear a collective of palms hitting foreheads as i write this but i thought it was an excellent think outside the traditional box idea. So four of these said t-shirts were brought ordered and the writing instructed in font color ect. For one i even printed out a picture of what i exactly wanted on it. I pick them up tomorrow and can i say i am more than a little excited about this.
But i seem to have unleashed some kind of slogan monster. It's the fluffy ones fault. He wanted what he calls a * Twitter T-Shirt*. I have one with my name on it and writing on the back so he wanted one with fluffy written on it. Being the wonderful human being that i am he has his wish. His t-shirt will read @fluffy on the front and spreading the fluff since 2001 on the back.
The thing is now i have done one i can't stop thinking up others . I may be in danger of branding fluffy. Not literally with an iron but in t-shirt form just as he is blossoming into teenage hood growing hormones gaining street cred, mummy has put him on a t-shirt. Mummy plans to put him on many more t-shirts, mummy wants to draw an emblem to also put on said t shirts.
Maybe it's time fluffy takes up boxing just in case.
But i seem to have unleashed some kind of slogan monster. It's the fluffy ones fault. He wanted what he calls a * Twitter T-Shirt*. I have one with my name on it and writing on the back so he wanted one with fluffy written on it. Being the wonderful human being that i am he has his wish. His t-shirt will read @fluffy on the front and spreading the fluff since 2001 on the back.
The thing is now i have done one i can't stop thinking up others . I may be in danger of branding fluffy. Not literally with an iron but in t-shirt form just as he is blossoming into teenage hood growing hormones gaining street cred, mummy has put him on a t-shirt. Mummy plans to put him on many more t-shirts, mummy wants to draw an emblem to also put on said t shirts.
Maybe it's time fluffy takes up boxing just in case.
Saturday 10 March 2012
the creativity paper chase
a few days ago i had a sudden attack of inspiration. it's not the sort of thing you can take a tablet for and hope that it will go away. they don't go when you have a mind like a hamster wheel and things go round and round in your mind. you see things as if they are on a big screen in your head, stolen conversations with people you'll never know, situations that you will never be in, places you can only dream of and all in your mind.
anyway i had this idea f a concept blog of sorts a work of fiction if you will. great idea something that i could do and hopefully people if they ever found it would enjoy. so blog was set up i nearly managed to do it all myself even the techy stuff that usually leaves me ranting and barking orders at the resident man. ok so he tweaked it so it looked nice and i sat as far away from the screen as possible and told him not to explain to me what he was doing, i didnt want to know i just wanted it done.So it was done and it has sat there bare till now.
So whats stopping me now ? i havent written anything for months. In fact i went as far as saying that i would never write again. Apparently blogging isnt writing so i have been told so this doesn't count. but for days now i have had something going round and round in my head a great idea for something. How do i know it's a great idea ? rule of thumb if it's still there in the morning and it doesnt leave your head and you keep thinking about it then it's a good idea. I could see it all so clearly. I have the first paragraph in my mind exactly and it's been there all week near enough.
i brought a brand new posh notebook, and found a posh writing pen well posh to my standards anyway and this afternoon i had a few hours when there was no one around so i thought now was the time. get something written and then blog it and after that hide under the desk and wait for someone to tell you how crap it is. i didnt have to hide though.
as soon as i started to write anything down it looked wrong, it sounded wrong. oh christ i thought i'm out of practice at the writing thing. but i kept going. in fact i have thought of nothing else all evening. i even went away and then came back to it, picked up the pen and had another go. it's a great idea , but it's wrong. i have taken a great concept and arsed it up.
do self doubt sets in. maybe i should never have picked up that pen, spent money on that notebook. maybe i should have kept those thoughts in my head where i could see this story unfold, maybe it's better off there. so now i am looking at the things i have written and i am wondering if i have to do the unthinkable and tear the pages out and throw them away. i have never ever done that before. i don't rewrite i tweak. i never throw anything away till now. what if i have lost what little touch i had. had my time past ? should i just sit quietly at my desk and watch while others who are far more capable than i do the only thing that has driven me for 35 years. writing is all i ever wanted to do and now i am wondering if i actually can. or am i just a day dreamer with a multicolor imagination ?
anyway i had this idea f a concept blog of sorts a work of fiction if you will. great idea something that i could do and hopefully people if they ever found it would enjoy. so blog was set up i nearly managed to do it all myself even the techy stuff that usually leaves me ranting and barking orders at the resident man. ok so he tweaked it so it looked nice and i sat as far away from the screen as possible and told him not to explain to me what he was doing, i didnt want to know i just wanted it done.So it was done and it has sat there bare till now.
So whats stopping me now ? i havent written anything for months. In fact i went as far as saying that i would never write again. Apparently blogging isnt writing so i have been told so this doesn't count. but for days now i have had something going round and round in my head a great idea for something. How do i know it's a great idea ? rule of thumb if it's still there in the morning and it doesnt leave your head and you keep thinking about it then it's a good idea. I could see it all so clearly. I have the first paragraph in my mind exactly and it's been there all week near enough.
i brought a brand new posh notebook, and found a posh writing pen well posh to my standards anyway and this afternoon i had a few hours when there was no one around so i thought now was the time. get something written and then blog it and after that hide under the desk and wait for someone to tell you how crap it is. i didnt have to hide though.
as soon as i started to write anything down it looked wrong, it sounded wrong. oh christ i thought i'm out of practice at the writing thing. but i kept going. in fact i have thought of nothing else all evening. i even went away and then came back to it, picked up the pen and had another go. it's a great idea , but it's wrong. i have taken a great concept and arsed it up.
do self doubt sets in. maybe i should never have picked up that pen, spent money on that notebook. maybe i should have kept those thoughts in my head where i could see this story unfold, maybe it's better off there. so now i am looking at the things i have written and i am wondering if i have to do the unthinkable and tear the pages out and throw them away. i have never ever done that before. i don't rewrite i tweak. i never throw anything away till now. what if i have lost what little touch i had. had my time past ? should i just sit quietly at my desk and watch while others who are far more capable than i do the only thing that has driven me for 35 years. writing is all i ever wanted to do and now i am wondering if i actually can. or am i just a day dreamer with a multicolor imagination ?
Tuesday 6 March 2012
the i'm fine myth
it's been a while i am more grumpy than usual. i have a mind that won't stop and a body that won't start. i am avoiding people as much as i can, but it's hard when you don't live by yourself. times like this i wish i did although it's probably not the healthiest thing to be doing. any how enough of that, let's concentrate on todays lesson.
imagine this your walking down the street you see someone you havent seen for a while you ask them how they are. what do they say ?
"I'm fine "
those two little words signify one of the biggest planetary lies available. People are never just "fine" . Fine is one of those magnolia words used when you can't think of anything to say or you don't want to get into a conversation. Saying your fine is like saying something is nice or someone is nice. It's a double edged insult , it's bordering on boring, it's the thing you say when you can't think of a better word to describe how things are. It's a lie a mythical word for a mythical frame of mind. it's like sudden brain death just hit your ability for descriptive verse.
saying all of that though it can also be used when you don't want to burden people with your life. You know they have other things going on and when they ask you " i'm fine " is a way of you acknowledging the fact that they care but also that they have enough going on.
So don't ask me how i am. i may have to go magnolia on your arse ( said in best american typing accent ) and tell you that,
"I'm fine ."
imagine this your walking down the street you see someone you havent seen for a while you ask them how they are. what do they say ?
"I'm fine "
those two little words signify one of the biggest planetary lies available. People are never just "fine" . Fine is one of those magnolia words used when you can't think of anything to say or you don't want to get into a conversation. Saying your fine is like saying something is nice or someone is nice. It's a double edged insult , it's bordering on boring, it's the thing you say when you can't think of a better word to describe how things are. It's a lie a mythical word for a mythical frame of mind. it's like sudden brain death just hit your ability for descriptive verse.
saying all of that though it can also be used when you don't want to burden people with your life. You know they have other things going on and when they ask you " i'm fine " is a way of you acknowledging the fact that they care but also that they have enough going on.
So don't ask me how i am. i may have to go magnolia on your arse ( said in best american typing accent ) and tell you that,
"I'm fine ."
Saturday 4 February 2012
poem Don't look for me
Don't look for me
when sumer comes
along the lanes where we once walked.
Don't look for me
along the shores
where waves roll and tears fall
along the cliff tops where we stood
hands held wind blowing through our hair.
Don't wait for me
as clocks tick
marking time gone by.
Don't reach for me
among your stolen memories
in the dust covered box's of your mind.
Don't look for me
along the streets of passers by.
I am but a day dream
fleeting in your mind .
A shadow of another time.
Don't look for me.
when sumer comes
along the lanes where we once walked.
Don't look for me
along the shores
where waves roll and tears fall
along the cliff tops where we stood
hands held wind blowing through our hair.
Don't wait for me
as clocks tick
marking time gone by.
Don't reach for me
among your stolen memories
in the dust covered box's of your mind.
Don't look for me
along the streets of passers by.
I am but a day dream
fleeting in your mind .
A shadow of another time.
Don't look for me.
Tuesday 31 January 2012
its tuesday i think it may be snowing and heres the blog
last night i wrote my obituary . today it took me half an hour to find the dictionary to spell the damn word . the dictionary was lodged under a pile of notebooks undone things bills three cd's and two place matts all balanced on the corner of my desk on top of the printer that only works when it wants to.
when i say i wrote it well i constructed it in my head how i wanted it to sound, how i would like people to remember me. biggest thing that came out of it is that the avi picture you see isnt me anymore. no i havent grown another head or anything too drastic it's just not me not now. i suppose people remember what they want to and forget the bits they dont. you cant tell people what to think or how to feel or what to remember they just will do whatever they want to. id rather be forgotten, just slide me under the radar and leave me there.
anywho my toes are numb i am wearing the big shoes with the holes in them as opposed to the boots that flat and have holes in them and bedsocks and i have to go and get a small child soon and shop . i dont want to i want to go back to bed and disappear but i wont. normal face on for the masses and off we go. it may snow i may get run over by a bus . my underwear is awful saggy and doesnt match i dont care.
someone remind me i need to get milk and fill the gas meter before the whole of pants palace dies of the cold.
when i say i wrote it well i constructed it in my head how i wanted it to sound, how i would like people to remember me. biggest thing that came out of it is that the avi picture you see isnt me anymore. no i havent grown another head or anything too drastic it's just not me not now. i suppose people remember what they want to and forget the bits they dont. you cant tell people what to think or how to feel or what to remember they just will do whatever they want to. id rather be forgotten, just slide me under the radar and leave me there.
anywho my toes are numb i am wearing the big shoes with the holes in them as opposed to the boots that flat and have holes in them and bedsocks and i have to go and get a small child soon and shop . i dont want to i want to go back to bed and disappear but i wont. normal face on for the masses and off we go. it may snow i may get run over by a bus . my underwear is awful saggy and doesnt match i dont care.
someone remind me i need to get milk and fill the gas meter before the whole of pants palace dies of the cold.
Monday 30 January 2012
humans bloody humans
today had been filled with rude sighing smelly people in post office ques and idiots who think the world revolves around them.
When your not exactly feeling on top of the world you don't need any of that. you don't want to have to leave your house with unwashed hair and a beany hat stuck on your head looking like a tramp high on steroids, to do a school run you shouldnt have to do. You dont want to be stuck in the worlds longest rudest smelliest post office Que where everyone has three sacks of parcels to send recorded delivery and you are on a time limit. You don't want to be stood in that Que with a rising tide of stress making its appearance and some bloody woman on your left hand side sucking their teeth and attempting to push in front of you. when you do look at them they glare at you square their shoulders and suck their teeth even louder right into your inner ear drum. right then and there you realize that if they do Que jump you will just leave the shop and probably cry all the way to the bus stop. one more thing to be anxious about. Luckily said woman didnt jump in front of you and you exit the shop/post office relatively unscathed.
Then you get to the school by this time you need a wee the last coffee that you drank before exiting the safety of your home has made its way to your bladder and is now tap dancing across it.your feet are numb even though you have on bed socks and not actual socks and you have to wait for a small person because their father who is also at the school but in a meeting with several teachers wont get him for what ever reason. small child comes out knows his father is at the school and decides to wait at the office for him. you on the other hand sit outside on a wall getting piles and really cold and annoyed. you could go and wait in the warm most people would but you dont want to talk to anyone answer any bloody questions or get any funny looks from the teachers. so you sit outside and get funny looks from the other parents and the caretaker instead. you sit there for forty five minutes and just as your beginning to feel a bit like a child sex offender the small one and its father appear. child takes one look at you and decides that he will go home with his dad today. you go home on the bus . when i say on the bus its not one but two buses. by the time you get home you dont ever want to talk to anyone or be nice to anyone again you want to eat a shed load of food and die on the sofa.
the moral of this story is that there isnt a moral. morals actually died a death years ago when people stopped thinking about others and came to the way of thinking that the world revolves around them. people need to think a bit sometimes we are standing on the same bloody planet. what we are not doing is balancing on a planet that is at this moment in time revolving around someones head although today is feels like some people think that the world revolves around them.. they will learn and the ones that dont will grow up very disliked by others .
When your not exactly feeling on top of the world you don't need any of that. you don't want to have to leave your house with unwashed hair and a beany hat stuck on your head looking like a tramp high on steroids, to do a school run you shouldnt have to do. You dont want to be stuck in the worlds longest rudest smelliest post office Que where everyone has three sacks of parcels to send recorded delivery and you are on a time limit. You don't want to be stood in that Que with a rising tide of stress making its appearance and some bloody woman on your left hand side sucking their teeth and attempting to push in front of you. when you do look at them they glare at you square their shoulders and suck their teeth even louder right into your inner ear drum. right then and there you realize that if they do Que jump you will just leave the shop and probably cry all the way to the bus stop. one more thing to be anxious about. Luckily said woman didnt jump in front of you and you exit the shop/post office relatively unscathed.
Then you get to the school by this time you need a wee the last coffee that you drank before exiting the safety of your home has made its way to your bladder and is now tap dancing across it.your feet are numb even though you have on bed socks and not actual socks and you have to wait for a small person because their father who is also at the school but in a meeting with several teachers wont get him for what ever reason. small child comes out knows his father is at the school and decides to wait at the office for him. you on the other hand sit outside on a wall getting piles and really cold and annoyed. you could go and wait in the warm most people would but you dont want to talk to anyone answer any bloody questions or get any funny looks from the teachers. so you sit outside and get funny looks from the other parents and the caretaker instead. you sit there for forty five minutes and just as your beginning to feel a bit like a child sex offender the small one and its father appear. child takes one look at you and decides that he will go home with his dad today. you go home on the bus . when i say on the bus its not one but two buses. by the time you get home you dont ever want to talk to anyone or be nice to anyone again you want to eat a shed load of food and die on the sofa.
the moral of this story is that there isnt a moral. morals actually died a death years ago when people stopped thinking about others and came to the way of thinking that the world revolves around them. people need to think a bit sometimes we are standing on the same bloody planet. what we are not doing is balancing on a planet that is at this moment in time revolving around someones head although today is feels like some people think that the world revolves around them.. they will learn and the ones that dont will grow up very disliked by others .
Sunday 29 January 2012
not being well but looking normal
yesterday was not a good day . yesterday all i seemed to do was shake shout and want to cry . but trying to appear normal i still cooked washed clothes and cleaned a bathroom as you normal people do .
on the outside i was just having one of those days. on the inside i was pulling chunks of my hair out screaming and running around in circles like a hamster on a wheel getting nowhere wanting to run away. funny how you can do all of that in your mind while sitting totally still isnt it.
today isnt much better. without realizing i have managed to pluck half an eyebrow bald, tried to make tea in the bowl i put the dead teabags into and made porridge that looked like well it wasn't porridge put it this way. i just about managed to keep the urge to cut chunks out of my hair to a bare minimum but i pulled a few bits out so now my air looks like frizzy crap instead of just plain crap.
remembering the phone bill was due to be paid i checked the bill, misread two yes two calenders and then paniced as i thought i hadnt paid it in over a month. it's due tomorrow and im still shaking over that one. i have also scratched a scab over my eye my rubbing my skin off.
i feel like my head is about to explode. it wont but it feels like it will. i dont feel safe. i dont feel in control any more i cant remember even how to pay things when they are due simple stuff like that. i keep thinking that people are going to come and take everything away. so in my mind i am planning ahead where i can hide things so they dont take them away.
there is an upside to this mind you. nothing has grown a head yet nothing has started moving. last time furniture grew heads and the floor started moving and changing colour on its own. so it's not that bad yet.
the clock is ticking. i just wonder how long it will be before i snap completely and if anyone will notice when i do.
on the outside i was just having one of those days. on the inside i was pulling chunks of my hair out screaming and running around in circles like a hamster on a wheel getting nowhere wanting to run away. funny how you can do all of that in your mind while sitting totally still isnt it.
today isnt much better. without realizing i have managed to pluck half an eyebrow bald, tried to make tea in the bowl i put the dead teabags into and made porridge that looked like well it wasn't porridge put it this way. i just about managed to keep the urge to cut chunks out of my hair to a bare minimum but i pulled a few bits out so now my air looks like frizzy crap instead of just plain crap.
remembering the phone bill was due to be paid i checked the bill, misread two yes two calenders and then paniced as i thought i hadnt paid it in over a month. it's due tomorrow and im still shaking over that one. i have also scratched a scab over my eye my rubbing my skin off.
i feel like my head is about to explode. it wont but it feels like it will. i dont feel safe. i dont feel in control any more i cant remember even how to pay things when they are due simple stuff like that. i keep thinking that people are going to come and take everything away. so in my mind i am planning ahead where i can hide things so they dont take them away.
there is an upside to this mind you. nothing has grown a head yet nothing has started moving. last time furniture grew heads and the floor started moving and changing colour on its own. so it's not that bad yet.
the clock is ticking. i just wonder how long it will be before i snap completely and if anyone will notice when i do.
Friday 20 January 2012
on a lighter note stupid poetry a la pants
some days will kick you up the bum
all you can do is ho and hum
and swear a bit
or kick a door
and wonder what this life is for
you've burnt the toast
and blocked the loo
the world has got it in for you
the funny bone just isn't fun
you've tripped and landed on your bum
you want to cry
and scream and swear
no clothes that fit
nothing to wear
so take a breath
maybe one more
and think of things worth fighting for
have a tea
sing out of tune
who cares it's just you in the room
you'll look a tit
feel out of place
hey welcome to the human race
we're all like that
don't feel a pratt
some days just suck
don't give a fuck
there is always tomorrow
all you can do is ho and hum
and swear a bit
or kick a door
and wonder what this life is for
you've burnt the toast
and blocked the loo
the world has got it in for you
the funny bone just isn't fun
you've tripped and landed on your bum
you want to cry
and scream and swear
no clothes that fit
nothing to wear
so take a breath
maybe one more
and think of things worth fighting for
have a tea
sing out of tune
who cares it's just you in the room
you'll look a tit
feel out of place
hey welcome to the human race
we're all like that
don't feel a pratt
some days just suck
don't give a fuck
there is always tomorrow
what a difference twelve or so hours makes
i was planning on being really creative today . i was honest i was , i had creatively blogged this morning and creatively skipped upstairs and creatively made a bed cleaned ones creative teeth and did some creative hurling of dirty washing at the machine.
Then it happened THE CURSE OF THE BROWN D.W.P. ENVELOPE.
Bastard horrible bloody thing. i don't normally swear in a blog but for this one i am making a big fuck off exception. I had been expecting this since about last November. From November to December every time anything came through the postbox and landed on the welcome mat i did the tourette's twitch thing and on many occasion almost put my neck out. But they had done a sneaky thing and lulled me into a false sense of security until today.
Today i get the envelope that heralds the end of life as i know it. The end of any sense of safety . My appeal tribunal date . Even as i type this my stomach is turning and i want to cry . I won't it's just a blog. It's not as if i'm about to be made homeless well not yet anyway i have a month till this thing. I have a month the work out where the hell they want me to go , how the hell i get there if there are any high ceilings, how likely i am to get lost miss my time and then be stranded while a bunch of no mark bastard strangers decide my fate have a laugh a cup of tea talk about the soaps as i crumble at the road side.
Am i feeling sorry for myself ? nope i am a realist and realistically i have no idea how i am going to get there what i am going to say or if they will even believe me . I have no support no backup from anyone so i am pretty much screwed . If leaves you wondering sometimes if it is all really worth this. On the outside i look fine bit tired round the edges needs a hair cut could loose a few hundred pounds, but if you can string a sentence together then obviously your fine. If you don't seem to need anyone to fight your corner then your obviously cured. erm no , but i guess if im not dangling off the top floor of tesco's car park then all is not quite lost.
I'm going to publish this wait for the backlash from the truly ill which will probably begin in Ernest . Poor Ernest things always begin in him . And i'm going to go and have a fag.
I will be fine .
This coming from the person who on her head stone will have in-scripted " Was always fine till she wasn't . Then she was fucked."
Sorry will now stop rambling and bugger off .
It's been a shit day .
and thus the pants have spoken.
Then it happened THE CURSE OF THE BROWN D.W.P. ENVELOPE.
Bastard horrible bloody thing. i don't normally swear in a blog but for this one i am making a big fuck off exception. I had been expecting this since about last November. From November to December every time anything came through the postbox and landed on the welcome mat i did the tourette's twitch thing and on many occasion almost put my neck out. But they had done a sneaky thing and lulled me into a false sense of security until today.
Today i get the envelope that heralds the end of life as i know it. The end of any sense of safety . My appeal tribunal date . Even as i type this my stomach is turning and i want to cry . I won't it's just a blog. It's not as if i'm about to be made homeless well not yet anyway i have a month till this thing. I have a month the work out where the hell they want me to go , how the hell i get there if there are any high ceilings, how likely i am to get lost miss my time and then be stranded while a bunch of no mark bastard strangers decide my fate have a laugh a cup of tea talk about the soaps as i crumble at the road side.
Am i feeling sorry for myself ? nope i am a realist and realistically i have no idea how i am going to get there what i am going to say or if they will even believe me . I have no support no backup from anyone so i am pretty much screwed . If leaves you wondering sometimes if it is all really worth this. On the outside i look fine bit tired round the edges needs a hair cut could loose a few hundred pounds, but if you can string a sentence together then obviously your fine. If you don't seem to need anyone to fight your corner then your obviously cured. erm no , but i guess if im not dangling off the top floor of tesco's car park then all is not quite lost.
I'm going to publish this wait for the backlash from the truly ill which will probably begin in Ernest . Poor Ernest things always begin in him . And i'm going to go and have a fag.
I will be fine .
This coming from the person who on her head stone will have in-scripted " Was always fine till she wasn't . Then she was fucked."
Sorry will now stop rambling and bugger off .
It's been a shit day .
and thus the pants have spoken.
today i am
Today i am a leather clad rock star standing center stage among the flashing strobe lights.
Today i am a super hero invisible , a fighter.
Today i am a dancer carried away by wave upon wave of sound, moving effortlessly where the music takes her.
Today i stand alone on a cliff top looking down at the sea below me, the wind blowing in my face, my hands in my pockets.
Today in my mind i can be anything i want to be. That's the beauty of imagination it takes you to places that you wouldn't normally go to. It changes you into someone that you couldn't ordinarily be. It allows you to have relationships with people that only you know and to feel things that only you could understand. It takes you away for just a few moments to another life .
Who will you be today ?
Today i am a super hero invisible , a fighter.
Today i am a dancer carried away by wave upon wave of sound, moving effortlessly where the music takes her.
Today i stand alone on a cliff top looking down at the sea below me, the wind blowing in my face, my hands in my pockets.
Today in my mind i can be anything i want to be. That's the beauty of imagination it takes you to places that you wouldn't normally go to. It changes you into someone that you couldn't ordinarily be. It allows you to have relationships with people that only you know and to feel things that only you could understand. It takes you away for just a few moments to another life .
Who will you be today ?
Sunday 15 January 2012
stolen moments.
We all have these hidden away in the very farthest corners of our memory. Those times that we can't forget, those passing moments that once warmed our soul, gone but never forgotten times.
What are these moments ?
The kiss that stopped time just for those few seconds, when the world faded away and it was just the two of you.
A smile that lights up a face, a laugh that fills your soul with warmth.That first touch that takes your breath away and leaves you shaken. The memory of how two hands would fit together, fingers entwined . Those walks you would take together, sometimes silent, sometimes talking of things that now no longer matter. The way you would stop and watch the view and hold each other . How your head would fit in the hollow on their chest and you would lie there listening to their heart as you went to sleep.
They used to be who you were, but now you keep them locked away in your mind. You know they are there a constant reminder of what once was. That once you didn't think you could live without these things, these people who caused so many emotions. Because with these memories comes the forgotten feelings, the love, the sorrow, the heart break, that feeling of loss.
Put them back into that box, shut the lid, take a breath. There was a time when you couldn't breath without them but now somehow you do. You draw a breath, you carry on but you never forget.
What are these moments ?
The kiss that stopped time just for those few seconds, when the world faded away and it was just the two of you.
A smile that lights up a face, a laugh that fills your soul with warmth.That first touch that takes your breath away and leaves you shaken. The memory of how two hands would fit together, fingers entwined . Those walks you would take together, sometimes silent, sometimes talking of things that now no longer matter. The way you would stop and watch the view and hold each other . How your head would fit in the hollow on their chest and you would lie there listening to their heart as you went to sleep.
They used to be who you were, but now you keep them locked away in your mind. You know they are there a constant reminder of what once was. That once you didn't think you could live without these things, these people who caused so many emotions. Because with these memories comes the forgotten feelings, the love, the sorrow, the heart break, that feeling of loss.
Put them back into that box, shut the lid, take a breath. There was a time when you couldn't breath without them but now somehow you do. You draw a breath, you carry on but you never forget.
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