Monthly Archives: December 2024

It’s been a hellish week.

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I can’t believe that a week has passed already. It feels like a day. It feels like 10 years. I feel like there is no sense of time at all. I am in a fog. I am dizzy all the time and I feel like I’m going to hurt myself terribly pretty much any minute. My life is going to get so small. I am going to stay home where I can butt scoot up and down stairs because I don’t feel stable.

I am so scared. Noah has been my bulwark in this life. I don’t want to face the world without him. It sounds horrible and awful and unfair in ways I don’t even know how to wrap my brain around. There are so many tiny what if’s. If he hadn’t broken his ankle. If he hadn’t had surgery. If he hadn’t taken medication. If If If If If If.

There is no fair when it comes to death. Even if someone lives a long time, that doesn’t mean their death is just. Maybe it should have come 50 years earlier and it is no fair that it waited so long.

I have never before noticed how well suited to keening the name “Noah” is.

I have no hope for my future. It will get smaller and more painful with every passing year. I will struggle on to raise my babies. I don’t think I can promise them companionship in their old age. I hope they will forgive me when I need to join their father. I miss Noah. I don’t want to live without him. I will. I have to. I don’t have a choice. I will raise our babies and I will ensure they are as stable and resilient as possible when they become adults but I am broken. This was my chance at a happy family.

I will always know that once I was loved. Once I was loved to distraction and beyond. Once I was everything to one person. He walked through fire for me over and over. In contrast I’m just going to have to keep moving in a frozen hell of pretended normal life. I will never be like everyone else and it doesn’t matter. I will go through the motions of a life but I will be watching through a screen.

I no longer have Noah justifying my existence and writing me permission slips to be in rooms. I no longer have the fact that Noah loves me more than everyone else in the whole world combined to make me feel like I am ok; maybe I am even good. If someone as wonderful as Noah would pick me maybe I am not all bad? If someone like Noah would decide that I was worth working like a demon for to ensure my safety? Maybe I’m not worthless?

Now Noah is gone. The vast majority of our money is tied in up accounts I can’t touch till I’m 67. Once I hit 67, I am set. That’s 24 years in between. I have 11 years, a month, and 14 days until I am done having a minor child. I don’t know yet, but I think we will get child support money from social security in the US. There’s the bank shares money that comes in every year. There is life insurance money. There are Noah’s parents. I’ll bridge the gap; I think.

I never fucking wanted to be a rich widow. This is not why I invested money. I invested money so I could take care of Noah. I was making sure Noah would be safe as he rode out his old age. That’s what I was doing. I am going to keep it and use it to take care of his babies.

We will have fun in the future. We will have adventures. We will explore. We will learn and grow. We aren’t going to stop. Noah would never forgive me if I stopped or if I didn’t push his kids to keep going. We will fucking go. I will be the motor for a long time until they are launched.

Do I want to live that long? 24 years without Noah? Oh my god that makes me shake so hard. Noah. Noah I need you. How could you go? How could you let your body stop? How could something so small stop you?

How could a cockroach like me be the last one standing? I may wobble and look like shit when I walk but I’m mother fucking cruising on like I can’t be stopped.

I wished I believed in Gods so that I could believe that the suffering in my life was because they chose me for punishment for some reason. That I think I could honestly wrap my head around and respect.

Why in the fuck was I so driven to have children? Why wasn’t I happy with just Noah? I am feeling absolutely overwhelmed with grief and I am very upset that suicide is not something I can consider. Every time the thought tries to start “I want to” there is a glitch. No. That is no longer something that is available to me in this life. My children have suffered enough. I can’t want that. Not even in the privacy of my mind, never again. I have to honor Noah.

I have so many regrets right now. I am drowning in them. Did I really serve him as well as he deserved? He never got to be the complete sole focus of my attention and I regret that so much. If I had known that I would have such a short time with him, what choices would I have made?

He died for stupid reasons. He died because everyone has to die. He died because when you read statistics about what could happen if you have surgery or take medication or or or or or or or you never think that one in a million death will be you today. Noah got a higher than average number of lottery ticket wins in this life. His luck ran out.

I don’t particularly want to keep breathing if I won’t have Noah to hold me. I will though. I will keep breathing and eating and sleeping and moving. I will raise my children well. I will earn them sitting by my bedside someday with smiles when I am sick enough that I am allowed to go see their dad. I miss you, Noah.

I know exactly which hangdog expression he would make when I cry, “You weren’t supposed to leave me.” He hangs his head and says, “I know.”

We don’t get to choose what happens to us. There is no deserve. There is no fair in this fuckhole I call life.

I am so angry that a fucking rapist wrecked the last 5 months of my marriage. I have been so fucked up. Noah has been doing work all day almost every day taking care of me and trying to help me calm down. I feel like I let him down by being so weak. I should have been giving to him.

I am trying to think of all the accommodations I am going to need to ask for: like I need Shortie’s teachers to see me write down the things they need me to know in the notebook I am carrying around. If I don’t write it down I cannot be trusted to remember it. Assume I am incapable of forming new memories for the next while. I am going to be in a deeply dissociated state most of the time.

There is a reason I am asking visitors to be spaced out over time. I am worried about my ability to fully stay in the present tense and an outside adult forces me back into reality. This is not a constant problem, but it has been a problem over the last five months and I expect it to get much worse. I am actually literally afraid of being alone right now. I am afraid I will take myself outside in 0 degree weather and stay for hours. Not smoking, just sitting outside until I hurt myself.

I don’t think I’d push it all the way to damage.

I know I won’t if someone is here with me. I am grateful to the friends who are volunteering. I hope this actually works out. I’m scared. The future looks so terribly bleak. For a time I was the most important person in the world to the best man I’ve ever met.

Now I am just a cockroach who won’t fucking die.

I’m not ok

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I miss you, Noah. I am trying to get things done. I am in motion basically every minute because I am afraid that if I stop I will crumble and be unable to get up.

I am so sad. I wish I had died instead of you. I wish I could take your place. If one of us needs to die now, why wasn’t it me? I do not have the purity of soul that you have. The world loves you more than it does me.

I feel sad that the Ruby community around the world is shocked with grief. Your impact is so big. They don’t care that you aren’t there to do the work. You made people feel seen, loved, and important. Like you did for me.

There is no fair in this life. You were the best of us and you are gone. My soul is screaming in agony. I want to want to die. I want to feel so suicidal I don’t care about the pain I will cause my children.

I can’t though. Every time I try to think “I want to die” the thought short circuits in my brain. I can’t ever want that again. I am going to live forever. There is no one to help my kids if I go. Yeah, I have friends who would take them in and not leave them on the streets and they’d have enough money to be ok starting out in life. If our net worth was divided between the kids they would all get close to a million and my in-laws would round that up very soon.

They don’t need money. They need someone who can say every day, “I love you and you still have a future ahead of you full of love, happiness, fun, and belonging. You will find friends and romantic partners and you will have a whole life. I will help you get there.”

I just no longer believe that I have a happy future. My happiness died with Noah. I feel so bad. Noah, how could you leave me?

He’s gone and I will never be ok again.

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What I am doing is making sure my kids are ok. That’s it. I got them out of the house into time with supportive folks so I could strip Christmas from the house. The older two have already told me that they are not ok with us decorating next year.

I’m deep in the regret stage I can list 9 million what ifs that don’t result in me losing the only person who has ever consistently shown up and cared for me. There are a lot of people who have shown up at times. I am deeply lucky like that. Pam will be here in 13 hours. It’s a good thing.

Do you know what isn’t going to be the same cost/reward ratio going forward? Writing. For about 20 years I’ve been writing for Noah. He was my ideal reader. He was the person I most wanted to share my thoughts with.

My smallest one is telling me about how she is going to grow up to be like her dad: happy and joyful the vast amount of the time. This is a big change from the grumpy butt she often is. I told her that she is going to have all the feelings as often as she needs to happen and that is a good thing. She conceded that she will have other feelings, just like her dad did, but he chose to be happy and joyful because that is who he wanted to be and so does she.

When I cried just a little as I climbed into bed she told me, “You are safe. I am here with you.”

I sucked back that sob and said the same back to her. She relaxed into me and went to sleep.

It is remarkable that all of my children have embraced, “This hurts but we will keep walking and we will be ok.” We are roleplaying how to handle different situations that will come up at school. We are talking about how to not piss people off all the time and get hit. For the first time in my fucking parenthood I am saying with my whole heart, “If you know all the answers for the love of Cheese don’t raise your hand every time. Wait until no one else raises their hand, then you do it.” Don’t draw too much attention to yourself. When someone uses a word you don’t know, calmly and with curiosity ask them what it means. You are going to actually learn how to speak Scottish now! This is exciting! When they tell you a funny/clever one compliment them on their fun usage of language.

Don’t go looking for fights.

I went and saw a doctor yesterday. She told me that I could have benzodiazepine or melatonin for sleep because nothing else exists. Yeah. Neither is an appropriate choice for me to lean on as heavily as I would need to lean on something to sleep right now. I’m not going to sleep well at night. Frankly as long as this continues I should use as much time that the kids are in school to nap as I can.

I’m shaking all of the time. I’m being hooked up with bereavement support. I wish I thought it would help me. I think this is going to turn into another time where I am a bad person if I share any details about my past. I think it is going to end in me feeling more isolated and alone.

One of my ex’s is hitting on me and it makes me feel sick.

He got what he wanted. After the kerfluffle in 2016 he had permanent monogamy with me. I wish I could have given him a lot more years.

We touched each other all the time. We were both in the house most of the time and we’d walk past each other and trail a finger, or lean, or kiss, or wipe a cheek on one another hundreds of times a day. Even with how much contact the kids need I feel completely touch starved because I only need one person’s touch and I will never get it again.

It is so clear in my mind that I am not allowed to blame myself because then I would be a bad mother. It’s not my fault. There were a series of places where Noah made choices that should have been fine only they weren’t and if I try to take responsibility I will drive myself mad. This was a terrible accident. People die. I miss him so much.

Noah made a lot of choices in this life. Some of them worked out and some didn’t. That is the summation of a human life.

Soon I think I will need to pull back hard from social media. I can no longer sustain the level of typing I do since I don’t live with an in-house massage therapist.

I wanted to spend the rest of my life worshiping his body and telling him how grateful I was that picked me. He had gotten fucking fit over the past two years of us exercising together more. It was a wonderful body to worship. Every part of us fit so well. I liked where my head hit his shoulder. I liked how we lined up when we were in bed. I miss grabbing him and saying, “Mine.”

Combined with the rape abreactions that are still happening I feel deeply scared and out of control in my body. It doesn’t matter how I feel; it matters how I act.

One of my friends is setting up weekly knife/axe throwing with my son as a specific way to get him out of the house and into a relationship with an adult man. I have told him that he has to start doing things out of the house every week many days a week. Without Noah in this house we aren’t a full and complete ecosystem. We have to go meet other people and make more connections.

It’s remarkable how little I needed other people when I had Noah. He was everything.

Middle child is both looking forward to and dreading school. I think it will be ok. They really want to go do drama with people every day. I think that is a wonderful idea. Noah and I both loved theatre in high school.

I am going to start implementing a move towards school timing immediately because it will be an adjustment. My life is going to become very small and very routine and very rigid because it has to be. When they are at school I will exercise and garden. My mother in law is insisting I get weekly house cleaners; given that she is supporting me for the rest of my life, fine.

I did not cultivate a relationship with my in laws because I was preparing for this. It makes the kids feel better. I think it even made Noah feel better. I gave him a way to have a relationship with his parents that made him feel connected but not smothered. I am proud of that.

I wanted to see what would happen if Noah and I made children together. They are amazing and wondrous. This is going to be a big painful loss but we will walk on. He taught us to be strong. He showed us endless resiliency. He really was joyful and happy most of the time. And we were all such surly bastards so much of the time. I don’t think we will keep falling into that trap.

I told my Shortie that when someone does something and she has to think of how to respond she can think, “What would Daddy do?” Because he would tell a joke or be silly or lighten the mood–he wouldn’t pick a fight. That was not his way. He wasn’t a fighter. He was someone who wanted people to feel special and loved.

I would know better than anyone else.

I want to be open.

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So here’s the thing: bad things are going to keep happening. 2024 was not a great year. I had surgery. Noah had surgery. I was sexually assaulted. Noah had a bursitis issue. My body has been well into melt-down/burn out for some time and my physical pain issues are ridiculously high.

When I felt this bad in California I had to keep working and driving. I saw a chiropractor, an acupuncturist, and a massage therapist nearly every single week in order to function. Now, I don’t function very well. I get the absolute basics done but that’s it and there is no way I would be safe to drive. I had a really intense conversation with myself when my California license was expiring. I had a few options. I could ask a friend to let me lie and change my address so I could get a new California license. Some folks have offered in the past. I could work harder to get a UK license, which would be the correct choice of course.

If I had a license I would feel compelled to use it. I would feel required to make other peoples lives better by using cars more. When I think of how much worse it often got in California because of all the driving? I thank my lucky fucking stars that I have reduced the stress on my life enough that I can control a flare this bad with yoga classes and careful pacing of exercise.

I haven’t seen any kind of physical support person since before my surgery and that was almost half a year ago. I am doing so much better physically than I used to do. I could be doing better if I had more support but that will always be true and I will not have the support so get on with it.

I can only do what I can do from this house. I don’t particularly want to move. The medical care in this city will be limited for the rest of my life. So I can’t drive. I can’t bear the strain.

I gave up having a license after 20 years of having a car meaning freedom and independence. I have lived in cars for a couple of years in non-contiguous spread out periods, never longer than 7 months at a stretch. In a real way giving up my license is giving up my normal Plan B for where I can go in an emergency.

I gave up on getting a license here after not trying very hard to start with.

That means my life will be necessarily small as I won’t ask someone else to do all the travel. That closes a lot of doors all by itself. I want to form relationships with people who live within approximately 5 miles of my house. That’s a significant limit.

I want to be open to the universe, to adventure, to opportunities but it feels like I am being closed down in ever increasing steps and it is weighing heavily on me. In a way the issue of increasing disability dovetailing with a reduction in financial status is convenient. I no longer have to consider how to manage all that disposable income. It’s simple: I don’t have it. I think I did well with it when I had it (paid off debts, built long-lasting wealth) and I think it will be ok to get off that train.

I don’t have to keep working like my life depends on it. Is that fair to embrace when everyone else does have to work in unhealthy ways to survive? There is no fair. There is no deserve. Life is unfair in every fucking way. Me working or Noah working to earn money so that we can justify the capitalist machine grinding people to dust is kinda weird. We can survive without giving our life to companies that make us miserable.

Why in the fuck should we try hard to stay in that? We do need to find ways to be part of community here, but why does it have to involve enriching someone else with our time? Because eat the rich. If we are honest about our life then we sure look like targets. Meh. When have I not been a target?

I want to be open to what comes in life. I don’t want to go forward with a specific size and shape and shopping list of what it needs to look like. I have so many limits. Creating more arbitrarily seems like a recipe for failing at life.

Too many feelings.

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I am feeling a lot of pain and isolation. I am struggling with how paranoid I feel. I make the assumption every time I leave my house that someone is going to be hostile or nasty. I get a surprising amount of random verbal abuse. Other people hear it–I am not delusional or paranoid.

I started 2024 with so much hope. I had big plans for working hard and contributing to communities. In the end I am isolated, lonely, and I feel deeply excluded. I feel wounded to my core by being asked to stop coming to cycling events. That was the vanilla community I invested in the most since moving. Now I feel like I am dirty and bad and I hurt people by existing near them.

I’m sorry I made you feel like a bad mother because I was willing to defend your gay kid and you weren’t. That wasn’t my intent. You weren’t in my thoughts at all. Your kid was. And that means I’m not welcome anymore.

I’m scared of the queer community now. The fact that basically no one from the organisation committee is checking on me feels fucking vile. I was raped on the final night of a month long spree of events where I personally produced 28 events. (Some cancelled due to illness so I didn’t hit 30.) That feels like evidence that I did not make any friends this Pride.

The NHS told me that I’ve already gotten so much therapy that I shouldn’t need anymore and if I do I can’t apply until I still have symptoms months after the trial. Fuck if it doesn’t seem like the *plan* is to avoid prosecuting rape/sexual assault cases by being so unsupportive the victims commit suicide. From where I’m sitting that looks like THE PLAN. It’s a lot cheaper that way

Noah fell and broke his ankle. He needed surgery. It was a little bit stressful figuring out when the surgery would happen. The NHS really does act like people are just waiting around at liberty to jump whenever they are called. It’s quite different to interact with.

I feel increasingly certain that I made the right decision in cutting things off with Travel Boyfriend. He was not acting like my friend. I feel less anxious. I feel less like I am supposed to be trying harder to win approval. Instead I am back to exhausted lethargy. Anxiety is a motivating emotion. I don’t want to be running on anxiety all the time though. I’d like to actually feel ok.

I know that EMDR would help a lot. I feel deeply upset that I was told no and that I can wait for years. It makes me feel substantially more out of control, helpless, and like I don’t get to be in control of my body.

I wish I felt like I had energy. I have a lot of things I want to do but no ability to focus my body or my brain. I’m in a lot of pain. I feel overwhelmed waiting for things to land on my head. I feel sad and scared and vulnerable and angry. I hate that I can’t be around people without crying.

I hate being me. I don’t want to walk this road. I don’t want to have to manage these trials and tribulations even though I do have so many wonderful aspects to my life.

I know I am lucky. I know I have a good life. It is hard to feel like I should be in it. I feel wrong from the core of me. I work hard on hiding it but it’s a mixed bag. I wish I could like me the way I like other people.

Noah is at the hospital and I miss him. As much as I think I will be stupid enough to want to sleep with someone else one day I think it is insane that I want to be away from Noah at all. He is the sun I orbit around. When he isn’t here I don’t know what to do. If I don’t have Noah to take care of–what am I even good for? Hell, the kids don’t even need me for cooking anymore. They are all shockingly competent.

I am so glad for Noah. I should go to bed. I’m going to the walk to the hospital in the morning and fetch him home in a taxi. Then I’ll get to baby him for a few weeks. I’m looking forward to having a holiday with him alone. It will be our first time having more than 48 hours alone since before Eldest Child was born. Little twerp is closing in on 17. That’s a lot of years of not having time alone.

I think we’ll manage to have fun even with limitations. Noah is fantastic to be with. I’m glad we get to do this. It is a silver lining on a whole bunch of negotiation that lead to nothing.

I choose me.

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Ok. My buddy Dave said I need to stop thinking about what happens to me as defining who I am and I need to write my own story. Fine. Be that way.

I have a habit of seeing potential in people. I make them feel inspired. I make them feel like they can go do wonderful things because they are so great. This is complicated because most of us don’t live up to our potential. Potential doesn’t mean you actually have the drive or skills to make something a reality. It means that if you have drive to learn the skills necessary you can make it a reality. Some people can’t make some things happen even with drive and skill. I could not be a professional stunt woman. My body can’t do that. I’m not sturdy enough. I lack the potential outside of whether or not I have the drive or skill.

Over the years I have invited several people into my life who had great potential and very little drive. They all kind of wanted me to be the motor behind them pushing them through. It’s a really unpleasant position for me to be in for my friends. It is hard enough as a mother.

I’ve been floating between fury and incandescent rage and deep abandonment for days. I cannot trust people who over promise and under deliver. That is a relationship deal breaker for me. It is too reminiscent of my family of origin. Someone wants credit for promising to do something even though they don’t do it. Like my sister claiming in mediation a decade later that she had been a huge supporter when I prosecuted our father. No you fucking did not. You iced me out. You told me it was my fault my brother died and my fault my father died. You refused to speak to me for months after raging at me.

Don’t fucking tell me that you are providing support when you aren’t.

With the fuck off letter from the NHS yesterday I am feeling incredibly vulnerable, weak, abandoned, and dehumanised.

Also, yesterday was the day when TB finally decided that he doesn’t want the possibility of sex to exist between us at all. He decided that 9 days after the cut off date for me paying for a rental house. I’m on the hook for a £500 romantic get away even though the person who invited me on it now is treating me in ways I don’t appreciate.

I went back through the handful of things he has actually been willing to commit to writing in the past seven months. He pushed me to invest in him really hard. He has wanted an avalanche of support. Do you know what he said to me after the rape and aftermath? That he was really disappointed that he wasn’t the next person to kiss me.

Fucking awesome.

He hasn’t been a source of support for me. Instead I went through chat logs and video call timing history and I have been leaning on 16 different friends (including Noah) to the tune of hundreds of hours of support in order to figure out how to cope with how TB has been acting.

Do you know what I don’t fucking need in my life? Someone who treats me shabbily enough that I need more than a dozen people providing support. That’s bad. It’s unsustainable. Between the time I spent processing with other people and the the time I spent giving him support… that’s all time away from focusing on my kids.

I didn’t participate in planting anything this year because I spent all of my gardening time talking to TB. What a fucking waste of my time.

I made him a man and now he wants to go off and spread his seed because he feels like someone will find him hot and want him. Wow. I’m sitting over here being a raging cunt and judging every aspect of his life choices and finding him deeply wanting in terms of a potential co-parent to an infant.

He’s never bothered to learn the language of the country he moved to in five years. Despite having a huge number of housemates he has no significant savings and no retirement. He thinks he’ll have to work until he drops dead. It’s a lot harder to earn enough money for the strain of kids that late in a career. His position in the country he is in is not stable. If he produces a child there, it is possible he will have to leave the child behind and go back to the US because he can’t stay. It is going to be fucking pathetic if he has to go try to learn German somewhere else so that he can get back to being with his family.

He’s almost 44 and he’s just starting to look for a partner. That means his vetting process is going to be sloppy and rushed because he is pressed for time. He is very likely to at best get to a point where it is appropriate to have a child with someone by 46-48. He won’t be one of the dads at high school graduation; he will be grandpa. He won’t be supporting his kids through their transition to adulthood; he will be needing them to provide his elderly care because he doesn’t have the fucking money for a home.

Someone choosing that turns my stomach. I judge. Something he doesn’t seem to understand is that I have very different metrics in my head for how I judge parents and how I judge non-parents. He went from me judging him according to a very liberal “Well if you are happy that’s good enough” standard to “Are you thinking about the well being of your dependents before your own happiness?” He’s not.

Frankly I also judge the digital nomad movement and fucking Americans traveling constantly all over the globe amassing massive frequent flier miles and pricing locals out of being able to afford to live in their traditional homes. The life he has lead over the past 20 years isn’t one I have a ton of respect for when I look at it as his “I am preparing to be a parent” period of life.

His entitlement is what I left California to get away from. Why in the fuck am I allowing this to be such a big part of my life? Because I care too fucking much about old friends from the old days. I’m a loyal bitch.

I don’t think I am loyal enough though. I think he has burned through the credit he had deposited in the Bank of TB & Krissy. He took and took and took until I have nothing left to give him. He used me up by never giving anything back. He has not been acting like my friend. He doesn’t help me with anything. He always offers to distract me with stories about himself. He sends me stupid emojis to tell me he is thinking of me. He likes to send “poke”. It gives him a little dopamine hit.

I’m not a fucking video game.

I’m fucking mad. But I think that this anger is healthy and good. My boundaries are being tramped into the mud. I can fix that. I will end this relationship. I will choose to put the energy that I have been giving to him back into Noah, my garden, my kids, and myself.

I’d rather spend my time talking to my supportive friends about myself instead of stupid fucking TB.

Letter from the NHS

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I’m copying this shit because it’s so fucking epic.

I’m writing to you as (deleted), Consultant Psychiatrist, referred you to Psychological Services. As you are currently engaged in counseling with Connecting Carers and are due to continue this through RASASH, we are not able to offer you assessment or therapy within our service. I would agree that RASASH would be the most appropriate form of intervention at this time to address your current difficulties and circumstances. As you have previously engaged in extensive psychological therapy I would hope that once this acute period of distress has settled, and with input from RASASH, that you feel more able to implement the learning and coping skills from previous therapies.

Connecting Carers and RASASH offered me someone to sit in the room with me while I cry. They said they would give me tea and cake. They are community support workers, not therapists.

Well. I don’t think I will bother asking for mental health support in this country again. I am saving this letter. If I ever commit suicide I am using the back of this letter for my note.

Having a hard time

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I’m upset about the lack of support from the NHS. I talked to someone high up at New Craigs (the psych hospital) and she told me I can’t have therapy until after the trial. I feel like if they won’t support me through the more traumatic period I’d rather set the building on fire than go there for help afterwards. (No I am not going to set anything on fire. I am not a violent person. I will, however, opt out of appointments and treat it like a source of hostility and pain instead of help and healing.)

The GPs won’t diagnose me with EDS or fibromyalgia so I’m unable to qualify for medical cannabis. That leaves me with the black market and a lot of lung damage. I feel humiliated and debased.

I feel like the NHS Scotland wishes I would just die and stop being a problem. Or at least leave the country. They would be happy with either.

My house is down with Norovirus. All three kids have fallen like dominoes day by day and I expect to go any minute.

I’m on a medication break because my usage level has increased times 5 and that’s really bad for my body. I’m not coping well. I’m in a lot of both physical and psychological distress. I believe with my entire soul that the NHS does not give a shit. I’m pretty sure I’m going to develop serious health issues here and I won’t seek care.

Hell, I tried to make an appointment with a for-pay clinic in town. They told me it is obvious I am in significant distress and they will see if they can do anything for me then they didn’t respond again.

This is fucking hilarious because I’m not even asking them to do much. I want them to evaluate me and confirm my original diagnosis information so I can go to a different private clinic with UK records and get cannabis. They won’t do it though.

I feel completely dehumanised and devalued and debased. I feel like dirt.