This is my life, at the moment (subject to sudden and unexpected change, of course):
- I had lots of blood tests this week because something is wrong with me and nobody is quite sure what. However, all the test results are normal. This makes me want to laugh but also cry, because I am no closer to knowing what’s causing my shakes and sweats than I was before.
- After waiting for way too long, I finally saw the neurologist. I failed a lot of the reflex/reaction tests. He asked me to touch my nose with my right index finger – I missed, and touched my cheek, and laughed in disbelief. Professor GD did not laugh.
- Professor GD is “concerned.” So I have to go for an MRI scan on my brain. I am annoyed at this because I recently re-pierced my ears and nose, and am not looking forward to taking 22 fiddly little studs and hoops out. Sigh.
- 3 weeks ago, my uncle arrived from Poland. He has no money, no qualifications and cannot speak English. He wants to live the stereotypical immigrant dream, become a labourer and rent a flat. I don’t know how I feel about this – I can see Nigel Farage shaking his head at me. I had not seen or spoken to my uncle for over 10 years and now suddenly I am living with him at my mother’s flat. This obviously makes me extremely nervous, as I cannot live with people. Even in my 2nd year of uni when I lived with my friends, I struggled massively and ended up having a breakdown because I couldn’t cope with other people. I get scared of having to talk to him. I get scared that he will judge what I cook for dinner. I get scared that he might accidentally come in the bathroom when I’m in there. The sound of him coughing and walking about makes me feel sick with nerves. He stays indoors all day, watching upwards of 16 hours of tv a day. Because he’s home all day, I cannot smoke – this obviously increases my anxieties. I feel bad for him, but I also wish he would go away. I am largely hiding in my brother’s room – sometimes I’m too scared to leave the room to get water or food or use the bathroom, so I just hide and look out of the window at all the fields and the city and think about dying. I’m very uncomfortable with this situation – because I know that my uncle is a good, sweet man who causes no problems at all and doesn’t interfere with me, but I’m just scared in general because he’s really a stranger to me. So because I’m scared and desperately need a cigarette, I keep skiving off to the pub…
- I usually eat at the pub now because I’m too scared to use the kitchen at my mother’s. And because I dread going “home” I’ve reverted back to crawling from one pub to another, causing trouble, taking drugs and drinking too much. I hate it. I hate it. I wish I never started drinking again – but then, of course, I have no desire to quit. It’s easier for me to just hide in the pub and get pissed up, then sneak in when mother and uncle are asleep. I don’t really know what to do about my alcoholism anymore – as soon as I start to think about quitting, the monster comes back and says, “Oh shut up and have another jar.” And so that’s what I do.
- My parents don’t know what to do with me – I want to run away to Paris but they told me not to because they know I will die there. Plus they can’t afford the arrangements to get my body back from Paris, so it would be selfish of me to do that. But then they can see how unhappy I am here, how I am just constantly sick. They don’t know what to do. But really, I’m not their problem. I am my own problem. They can’t afford to send me to The Priory but apparently my care-team are “working on it.” I just don’t care. A bed is waiting for me on the inpatient psychiatric unit but, as I told C and LC, the sandwiches that they serve on that ward are bad enough to make anyone suicidal.
- My nephew is 2. He broke my heart on Friday – he said, “I’m sad. I was crying.” I said, “Baby, why were you crying?! Don’t be sad!!” He said, “I am sad. Daddy’s gone. He’s in a house but not mummy’s house.” This broke my heart. We [the family] thought that he would be too young to understand that his parents are living separate lives and in the process of divorcing. I told him that Daddy is at work and that he can see his Daddy whenever he wants, that all he has to do is ask. God, I love that kid more than anything. He knows that Daddy is gone but he doesn’t yet understand that he is my whole world and my reason for being. I hope one day he grasps just how important he is to me.
- That Horrible Guy and the 40 year old Lady had their baby, a little girl. I saw him sitting in the gutter outside Maternity, smoking a cigarette, head in his hands, looking like his world had fallen apart. I laughed. I wished his Lady congratulations, and sent him my condolences since his life as he knows it is now over. I told him he can’t spend his money on raving and drugs and trainers and new phones anymore – every penny that he gets for the next 18 years must go to her. Then I told him I was off to the pub and he looked like he wanted to kill me because he was clearly gasping for a pint hahaha.
- Someone was killed outside my dad’s flat this morning. The whole road is cordoned off as a crime scene and it’s packed with Old Bill and paramedics, so I’m not allowed in to see dad at the moment. I pray that it is nobody I know.
- I’ve been struggling with reading and writing. But I’m working on a piece which I’ll publish on here as soon as it’s all come together. I want to thank my followers and readers for sticking by me and reading my older work – you’ve waited so patiently for new work but I promise it is on its way. You’re all wonderful and I can’t thank you enough. Much Love from London – where the streets are not paved with gold, but paved with blood, unsuccessful scratchcards and condom wrappers. X