Resolving The Resolvable

My New Year resolutions always take the form of fears that need to be overcome. This year it's simple 1) overcome my fear of people, 2) overcome my intense claustrophobia, and 3) overcome myself to make music.

It seems that to do all of the above, I first need to redeem myself in the eyes of humanity, as in the eyes of many, solitude and misanthropy is practically a crime. To do this I need to be chastened and humble, which isn't something that comes naturally to me, but isn't something that's beyond me either. What I do struggle with is maintaining it over an extended period of time, and this is crucial in being accepted by "adult" humanity" that works on the basis of conditionals. If anything goes wrong and you revert to "the bad old ways", you're out. That's the rules of the game as I understand them, and there has to come a point at which I cease to question that and kid myself that I can do better. I don't like conditionals, but they're not going to go away. I know I can do it, but can I make it stick?

Happy New Year to one and all.

Fearing The Worst

Jeez, I really should update this blog more. I get so pissed off with it, and pissed off about how I come across. But I am well aware that there are people with similar disorders who are reading this, and there is kind of an obligation, once you've started a blog like this, to follow it through. Hope everybody's well.

Regrettably my fears are plaguing me badly at the moment. The mental tricks and techniques I use to keep them at a distance don't work anymore, so my fears are right on top of me. I'm not getting out much, because I have to walk everywhere as the public transport claustrophobia is too bad right now. I'm reluctant to walk as it's making me feel so heavy and fatigued, so I'm staying indoors, smoking too much and putting on weight. The housing situation is not good either. I'm trapped where I am, next door to an ex-soldier with a grudge and a mouth as big as his ego. I'm desperate to get out, but I have nowhere to go. No friends or favors to call upon.

The one bright spot is that I've managed to get regular counselling sessions at a time that suits. I'm nervous as hell when I walk in, as my mind is doing cartwheels just being around people. I'm tense, head down, sat up straight, no eye contact...but generally once I've found a groove I can keep talking, even if a little haphazardly. The nerves are terrible right now, but maybe there are ways of casting it out with nervous energy. Trouble is, I think I've tried them all and I'm right back where I started. And I don't want to sound like a miracle curist. I've encountered a few of them online recently, and it makes me despair of how I may come across.

Finally, I've just discovered the genre of post-rock and I wanted to share it with you. Don't know how this music passed me by for so long. Anyway, this is the first thing I've ever embedded so I hope it works!





Stay safe everybody :-)

Asking The Earth

I'm gonna have to move out soon, as conditions here are getting worse. I currently have 3 leaks, including the boiler which nearly blew up last night as the pressure was too high. The hot water came out so hot that I think I would probably have suffered burns if I put my hand under it. In addition to this, the electrics are still not safe as the landlord didn't bother to call an electrician. It's going from bad to worse, and I now accept that I'll have to be re-housed. Due to my abiding weirdness I wouldn't last 5 minutes on a housing estate, so that isn't really an option. What I'd like to do is borrow enough money to put down a deposit and pay as many weeks rent in advance on a non-benefits place until the benefit money starts coming through (I'd pay the landlord out of my own pocket, and cover my own costs with the benefits). But I can't borrow from the social until September at the earliest, and borrowing from anywhere else would saddle me with debt I couldn't afford.

So it looks as though I'm gonna have to face the only realistic option that I have...to accept that I can't cope on my own, ask for help, and get taken in to residential accommodation for the mentally ill. I would imagine that places are at a premium, so even that wouldn't be straightforward. But the truth is that I can't cope on my own any more. I can't even travel because my head's all over the place, so what chance do I have with moving? And even if I were to find a nice place on my own, why would a landlord take me in if my mental state is all too obvious? At least in a residential place I'd be with "people like me", which is so badly lacking in my life right now. If the only people like me are mentally ill, then perhaps that's who I need to be with. And if the only way I'm going to move is to do it with help, then perhaps that's what I need to do. Because I'm not dying here, that's for sure. My life isn't worth much, but it's worth a damn sight more than my landlord's negligence.

Bizarrely, while all this is going on, I'm going to be writing some erotica for an escort's website. I contacted her with the idea, as I wanted to do something a little bit different to conventional adult blogging, and she seemed enthusiastic enough. So then I sent her a sample of my prose based on a couple of images she sent me, and I didn't hear anything back. Now she clearly states on her website that she replies to emails promptly and daily, and so I assumed that the lack of a prompt reply meant that I wouldn't be getting a reply. I also assumed that this lack of reply was on the grounds of "taste" (ie, she's tasteful and I'm not!), so I sent her a somewhat drunken email defending myself against my own assumptions. (I'll take any opportunity I can get to attack the laws of taste). But as so often is the case, the assumptions were wrong. It wasn't just the assumptions themselves that were wrong, but the urge to make those assumptions was also wrong. When will I learn? Turns out she was just being professional and dealing with me the same way she deals with professionals who contact her on a daily basis. Which comes as something of a relief because I was worried she was comparing me with time-wasters who send her dirty emails. Professionalism isn't a concept I find easy to get my head around, so that's why I make these mistakes sometimes.

I don't know. Erotic writing. Conducting. Mental illness. Homelessness. There's too many strands, aren't there? Too many strands pulling in too many different directions, with too many different states of mind required for each one. It undermines my credibility, and I'm sure you the reader are as aware of this as I the writer am. And of course it undermines my health too. So I've started to meditate, but even that requires another strand and another state of mind, with tenuous links to the others. But I'm getting into nature-based approaches to life, because I figure that if I'm asking the earth then I may as well ask the earth. Seems appropriate, and I'm aware that appropriate is good even though I don't always fully realise it.

Untitled

Love yourself. Lose yourself. Find yourself. Control yourself. Let go of yourself. Hold on to yourself. Rise above yourself. Accept yourself. Adjust yourself. Feel yourself. Steel yourself. Look at yourself. Just listen to yourself. Save yourself. Release yourself. Hold on to yourself. Get away from yourself. Will you just LISTEN to yourself. Let go of yourself. Touch yourself. Feel yourself. Steel yourself. CONTROL yourself. Let go of yourself. Get away from yourself. BE yourself. By yourself. Live yourself. Leave yourself. Think of someone else. Think of yourself.

And they wonder why I'm confused...

Plugging The Leak

Woohoo, I did it...I plugged a leak! It was only a minor leak compared with last week's escapade, but it was a leak all the same. I stayed calm in a crisis, which was the key. There was a point at which I could have lost my head, but if I lost my head then I would have never figured out what to do. I tried to stay composed, and it was noticeable how useful thoughts popped into my head that would have otherwise been blocked out. The leak isn't exactly fixed, but it's contained...which means I don't have to stay up all night emptying buckets and wringing cloths. So although it's hardly a major triumph, I am quite pleased with my efforts.

(*goes to check leak to make sure he hasn't typed too soon*)

Nope, it's ok. It's re-inforced one thing though: I have to get out of here. The place is a death-trap...it's one disaster after another, and I'm convinced that something really bad is gonna happen if I stay. I've slackened off this past week...I decided about halfway through the week that I was just going to enjoy the week, and not worry about it too much. But that isn't really an option, and tonight has reminded me of that. There's so much to organize. I need to organize help, because right now I'm not strong enough to do it on my own. I've developed an insane fear of transportation, so I need to overcome that and fast. And most importantly, I need to find a way of paying my own rent, as I wouldn't last 5 minutes on a housing estate. (Don't know if you have housing estates in America, but they're basically where all the lowlife tenants are). I'm not well enough to get a proper job, but I need to find a way of generating a steady enough income to pay my own way. I'm doing all I can to generate an income through blogging, but I'm really not convinced that there's any money in blogging. I mean, does anyone actually click Google ads when there might be more informative stuff on the page you're currently viewing?

Anyway, enough worry for tonight. I contained a leak, which is more than I could do a couple hours ago.

Abandoning The Beast

I've decided, I'm going to leave. I'm going to move out of the "sick house" I've lived in for the past 5 years, and back out into the real world. I'm not exactly ready, but I'll just plain have to be. Of course the issues I always had will always be there, and I'm no more well equipped to live amongst "normal people" now than I ever was. But I need the shock to the system, and I need to convince myself that I can still keep polite company before the nerves destroy me completely. That and the fact that the birdbrain next door to me is becoming something less than human. He shouts day and night in his sargeant-major voice (he's ex-army), and recently he's started banging with tools (he's building a model railway). Somebody get the man a Jane.

Thing is, there are many obstacles preventing someone like me from getting a "normal" home. Here in the UK private landlords are very reluctant to take tenants who are living off of state benefits, as beurocracy ensures that it takes months for them to get paid, by which time the tenant may well have absconded. And living in cheap shared housing with middle-class graduates isn't really an option, as these people have living standards that I will never be able to live up to. It's kinda hard to justify to an aspiring young professional that you've spent the last 5 years out of circulation, dealing with mental illness. Young professionals can't get their heads around something like that, and nor would I expect them to. And young professionals have a habit of drawing up mental dividing lines between professionals and non-professionals. Mentally ill people are service users; young professionals are service providers. And never the twain shall live under the same roof.

So the more I think about it, the more I realise as much as I ever did that my options are severely restricted. Maybe you think that I'm thinking about it too much, and you're wondering what the worst is that could happen. Well I'll tell you. The worst that could happen is that I move somewhere new without realising what the standards and expectations are. Then it hits me, and I freak out. This scares the tenants, and the landlord throws me out. And if I end up on the streets, it is no exaggeration to say that it will be the death of me. THAT's the worst that can happen. And bearing that in mind, that is probably why I have remained in an unhealthy environment for as long as I have. When I arrived here, I was 5 days away from living on the streets, and I will never forget that. Because when you're living with mental illness, stability and security is a very precious thing.

So while all this tempers the initial enthusiasm about moving, it does inform it somewhat. Much as I would like to believe that I can live under the same roof as healthy productive members of my own generation, the reality is that I can't. So what are my options? Well one-person flats I suppose, but at least I'm now in a position to know what environment would work for me, and make me feel secure and stable. Because I really must abandon the beast next door before he depends on me completely. You are the company you keep, as the happy healthy young professionals would have it. And if I'm living with Tarzan then perhaps I'm becoming less civilised by the day.

Part of me is thinking sod it: take a leap into the unknown and deal with the consequences. Good idea?