^^^That!

Knock knock.

Who's there?

Sundae.

Sundae who?


I fucking can't believe you forgot already!


But seriously. We are rooting for you.

So, trip to the 'rents over the Bank Holiday weekend.
I didn't exactly disgrace myself, but neither did I cover myself in glory, going AWOL with some ex work colleagues for a few hours and scaring Mum. Also coming home a little dazed and confused.

Anyway, my plan to upload all my photos hit a big Fail as Dad managed to bugger up the phones by trying to install new ones. Knocked out the satellite TV and t'internet.
Steven got them back up again the next day, but I was on my home by then.

To find a letter from St Anne's on the mat. For my assessment. Yay, first sign of progress.
I did smile when it advised not to turn up *too* intoxicated as it may make assessment difficult. Sorry but if you are capable of reading the letter and finding your way there (shit buses, Leeds) then I figure you can manage an assessment.
Still, it's at 15.30 on Friday so I shouldn't judge. I've woken up at 03.30 and proceeded to get wankered when things were at their worst.

Have come home with a fascinating collection of bruises and marks from dragging my bag across London and Leeds. Literally dragging - stupid wheels bust. So what with the nosebleed on the way down, which I had to mop up with a pair of knickers as I didn't pack tissues, and my festering collection of cold sores, I think it's safe to say you wouldn't touch me with someone else's right now. Although if you was a nice lady you might pat my pastel pink head and give me 50p for a cup of tea.

On a brighter note, we went round to see The Girls on Friday night. The ones I've cooked for at Mum's before. And J refused to let us go until I sang for them. Twicet. Although I pretended not to remember the end of each song, out of consideration for Mum. I think a husband with Alzheimers, a depressed alike pink haired daughter and a bunion operation are enough for one woman to deal with,let alone putting up with show tunes.

What does St. Ann's assess? Do they want you to turn up a little drunk?

I'm glad you've got an appointment this week though. Progress!

great to see you got an appointment. you know we are all pulling for you

St Anne's is a specialist addiction centre in Leeds.
I'll have an officially supervised medical detox, then 13-15 weeks rehab, including living in "practice accommodation". All in-patient, and in case that term doesn't translate it means I don't go home. Although towards the end of the stay patients are encouraged to socialise and lay down the foundations for alcohol free living.

They simultaneously treat a number of mental health disorders on the understanding that people who use any substance to escape their lives probably have underlying problems too.

I've read the website (you can find it too just from what I've posted here) but I will find out what applies to me and how on Friday. I was scared of the assessment, but Nurse A said she'd only known one patient to be rejected and that was due to a history of violence including an ongoing court case. Someone wise did tell me that the unit wouldn't have referred me if I didn't have a chance of being accepted, but hey - paranoia comes with the package right now.

Pulling what Sarge? Pulling what?


:p

He's not pulling it for me any more, he has a new trophy GF :mecry:

Sundae - do you really think anyone could replace you?

Of course not. I leave a Cherry sized hole whenever I leave.

Happy for you, Sundae. A big, double bear hug for you. You're not being paranoid. You're worried, and that's normal. Good luck! I hope all goes well.

Thanks Bunny.
But the truth is I am paranoid, goes with the dependency.
And it is hard for me to work out what is real from what is created in my head on a bad day.

The binmen are not out to get me.
The binmen are not out to get me.
The binmen are not out to get me.

There really was pasta in my Caesar salad instead of croutons though (WTF?!)

Sundae you are in our prayers.

It's an interesting kind of middle-ground patient they serve, the kind that knows they have a problem but is also aware that they can't beat it alone. Often you're talking about high-functioning addicts, who can adjust their level of intoxication on a day-to-day basis, as long as they're not being asked to go cold turkey. When daily intoxication is a way of life, you start to make weird rules about what you will or will not do, perhaps just to exert what little control you can over the situation. I once watched a show profiling meth users, and they talked to a married couple living in absolute squalor and shooting up 3-4 times per day. And this couple spoke earnestly about how the husband always takes the first hit, so if it's a bad batch that kills him the wife will know not to take it. In their warped world, this was not only logical, but evidence of his profound love for her. So yeah, I bet if you asked that couple not to show up *too* intoxicated, they could probably say, "Okay, cool, we'll take our first morning hit at 9am and that way we'll just be coming off it by noon, perfect timing."

I didn't mean to mock them. And you've hit the nail on the head, Clod. It's why I've fallen between two stools (sometimes literally) in trying to get treatment in the past.

I might only shower once a week when things are bad, but you can bet it would be on a day I was going to see Dana or going for an appointment. I'm not actually a dirty person, but I sure as hell live like one when I'm under the cosh.

I always accepted I had a warped view of the world, I'm now admitting I live in the warped world of an addict.

Part of my problem in getting the medical profession to take me seriously is because I don't have a history of being in social care, I have no police record, I have not been abused or an abuser. I rate on the same level as a yummy mummy who likes a few too many glasses of wine on a stressful evening. But I'm not. I'm someone with a serious problem who has had luck and friends/ family keeping my head above water for years. I don't mean enabling, I genuinely mean saving me until it looks like I'll get effective care.

So I'll go with my bruises, my cold sores, my eyes like pissholes in the snow, my ever present jaundice, but I'll be freshly washed and scrubbed and probably even free of cat hairs. And not *too* intoxicated to undertake an assessment :cool:

I hope they give you all the care you need Sundae. xx

Very little is going right, right now. The huge weight of getting my rehab date has been lifted, but like a stone it's exposed lots of creepy little things underneath.

As well asthe Diz issue, although that's the biggie.

Had a letter this morning telling me my gastroscopy appointment has been relocated.
Oh right.
It's Wednesday, the appointment is Friday, and it's been moved to Leeds.
£3.90 bus fare away. And I have to hold another £3.90 in reserve to go in on Tuesday.
Now that might sound like nothing, but when you're living on practically nothing, desperately sorting out bills and toiletries and things for a three month stay, that's a right pain in the arse.
FTR the appointment was originally scheduled for the hospital just outside Otley, which is an easily walkable two miles.

Going to go home and phone them. Which fills me with The Fear.
Thing is I can't even put it off, really, because you follow a strict programme and routine once you've been admitted. I don't think St Anne's would be best impressed if I turned up and said "Oh btw, I need a day off for an appointment I decided to cancel before I came in so I could buy some shampoo and toothpaste."

It's all getting overwhelming again.
A crash after the high of being accepted so much sooner than I expected.

Sundae, just one thing at a time hey? You will be able to get away without toothpaste and shampoo. Someone will spot you some when you get there. Go to the appointment and get it out of the way. Diz is the main problem, and i cant sort that one out. Maybe if you could do a doorknock in the area you might find a kind soul. Try the local churches. There has to be some crazy cat ladies around somewhere. Xx

I know chick, and thanks.
I would pretend that this panic and inability to properly assign priorities is due to my mental health, but y'all know me too well.
I've always been like this, but in my defence, it IS worse at present.
And I remember when going up two dress sizes was the end of the world.
This too shall pass.

The Cellar as a sounding board. I know there are many of us who have reason to appreciate that.
Thanks to everyone.

When you're in the midst of it, it's a tough thing to remind yourself that 'this too will pass.' So that's a good step, right there.

When I'm in the midst of it, now that I've pretty much trained myself to remind myself that it will pass, I tend to now think 'until the next time. and the next time after that, and the next time after that.'

That is what I (and perhaps you) need to be very wary of. Because I don't feel stronger each time I beat it. I wait for the infinite numbers of other shoes to drop. Therein lies the danger. This is when I know I have to really work harder...when 'getting through it this time like all the times before' doesn't seem like much.

I don't know. Maybe this helps, or resonates. I often say 'it'll all work out, it always does' but it's hard to see it sometimes, or care, or maybe even want it to.

I am, as are others here and in your 'real' life, on your side. We want to see you succeed. I hope all goes well with Diz and with your treatment. You've got a lot going for you: maybe you'll see that. :hugz:

Tonight the President will go on tv and patiently explain to us why we need more American war-making. How about we do a quick re-read of War is a Racket by General Smedley Butler before we subject our ears to his nonsense. Haverford man btw.

link is about bees

oops

Thanks Infi.
And everyone else who has supported me here.

I do have some hard work to do on myself, and the opportunity I've been given is exceptional. It's not going to be a walk in the park, just because it's residential it doesn't mean you're cut off from real life. You have responsibilities from the first week and segue back into your "real life" as the weeks progress.

But it's the best chance I've had in years.
Am equally grateful and terrified.

Oh, so you've been accepted MI-6, have to get your license training, then slip back into the mainstream like it never happened.
Probably recruited by Limey. Hmm She could easily be working for either side, even both sides. The force is strong in that one.

Or maybe Carruthers, he has a mysterious past. Obviously spend some time working in Cheyenne Mountain. All that top secret badda boom, stuff. Had a brother-in-law who worked there in the early '60s... been a little off in the head ever since.

"My name's Sundae, I carry a badge."

I'm a man of many parts. Most of them rusty.

"My name's Sundae, I carry a spoon."

"My name's Sundae, I carry a calendar."

...

I like yours better. ;)

I have a teaspoon and an open mind.

"I would have liked... to see... Montana."

Fuck
 

We are turning into a nation of voyeurs...but not good, honest, sexual voyeurs. No, that's off the table anymore. We're voyeurs via TV shows about what comes out of people's garages, storage units, old barns...what they pawn, what they hoard, how many pets they have.

We are a limp dick nation of consumers, jerking off over what other people own, throw away, or try to hock.

I am on the next UFO out of here.

Surely better than being voyeurs to the latest criminal on the gallows, or the gladiators slashing one another? When physical pain is outlawed as sport, it's only natural for social pain to become the new schadenfreude.

Eye on the TV
'cause tragedy thrills me
Whatever flavour
It happens to be like;
Killed by the husband
Drowned by the ocean
Shot by his own son
She used the poison in his tea
And kissed him goodbye
That's my kind of story
It's no fun 'til someone dies

Don't look at me like
I am a monster
Frown out your one face
But with the other
Stare like a junkie
Into the TV
Stare like a zombie
While the mother
Holds her child
Watches him die
Hands to the sky crying
Why, oh why?
'cause I need to watch things die
From a distance

Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies
You all need it too, don't lie

Why can't we just admit it?
Why can't we just admit it?

We won't give pause until the blood is flowing
Neither the brave nor bold
The writers of stories sold
We won't give pause until the blood is flowing

I need to watch things die
From a good safe distance

Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies
You all feel the same so
Why can't we just admit it?

Blood like rain come down
Drawn on grave and ground

Part vampire
Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
Stare at the transmittal
Sing to the death rattle

La, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie

Credulous at best, your desire to believe in angels in the hearts of men.
Pull your head on out your hippy haze and give a listen.
Shouldn't have to say it all again.
The universe is hostile. so Impersonal. devour to survive.
So it is. So it's always been.

We all feed on tragedy
It's like blood to a vampire

Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies
Much better you than I

The struggle is necessary. If we don't have it on a visceral level in our real lives, we look for it in the abstract.

We are the protagonist of our own story. Lacking an antagonist, we must create one from what is available. Without a force of nature to overcome, we must create one out of the ether. Without an inner conflict, we must borrow one from our peers.

Otherwise, our story is worthless. Our existence is irrelevant. Our experience is meaningless.
I am who I am because of what I overcame. I am the one who beat this thing or that thing. I am MEeeeeee, goddammit!


There is no light without the dark. We can't feel like good people unless we have bad people to compare ourselves to.




Crazy, right?


I think so....

So?


Love thy nemesis, thy predicament, thy fear, for they define you. Even as much as does thy victory , thy perseverance , thy strength.

Grandmadigr (96 last February) fell at home and broke her hip. The one good one she had left, she broke the other a couple years back. No new hip this time either, they say she's still too old. Still in the hospital, on painkillers atm, which she does not tolerate well at all, she's all loopy and talking to the dead relatives and people we don't know at all. The meds got her wild last night. Auntiedigr, who stayed with her last night, and the night she found her, said she woke up to find Grandmadigr tearing her iv's out, and hollering at Grandpadigr to take her home. Grandpadigr died in 1970. Popdigr and Momdigr are staying with her in the hospital tonight to give Auntiedigr a much-needed break.

I'm hoping she comes through this like she did the last hip, with flying colors. She's a pretty tough old bird.

Oh, grav. I hope she gets real better real soon. :hugz:

Ach, that doesn't sound fun. Poor Grandmadigr - hope she's back up and fighting fit soon *hug*

Poor woman. I'm sorry Grav.

Bummer dude.

making my cross face at the thought she's too old for a new hip. Hope they can fix her up so she can be happy and get about.

aauuugh...

sorry to hear this news Gravdigr. I'm pulling for her too, she's got a good track record and good people around her. Gonna be alright, gonna be alright. :comfort:

Take her some whisky, Grav.

Or a spleef

I know how distressing it is when someone you love goes off their trolley due to hospital treatment. I hope it all settles down quickly, Grav.

She's never had a drink, and she's never used tobacco, or weed.:D

I'm told last night was just hell. Just a constant battle to keep her together. The meds are really doing a number on her. If she can get through this far enough to get her off most of the meds, she'll be a world better.

We will pray for her Gravdigr.

Thanks everyone!

She had a much better night last night, I'm told.

The knock-out dope is finally working out of her system. Happens every time she gets knocked out for anything.

Whew. Good to hear! :)

Hope she's coming round - those damn docs just don't get the digr's...

Hope things keep improving, Grav.

Should be finalising my packing.
Should be getting ready.
Frozen with fear instead, brain scrambled. Need someone else to come rescue me, organise me .
Not possible of course, and very childish.
I will get up and get there. That's not in question. But right now it feels impossible.

ok, well what's in the case so far?

She's txtd me to say she's on the bus.

Yey!

Arrived in Leeds. Had a brief chat on the phone as she was a little early and was waiting for appointment time before checking in.

Oh well thats all good then. :)

Oh hope she's ok. I had intended to get up super early and phone her this mornin - then had a really shitty night and went through the alarm :P Got up nearly 10 am!

This really falls under the category 'small things that are upsetting' but since there's not that specific a thread I'll put it here.

Couldn't sleep early this morning, so thought "hey, I'll make a McDs run." Didn't eat dinner and I figured I'd just get an early start and for some reason a sausage biscuit sounded good (see, there's my first mistake--payback for craving a junk food.)

On my way home my car started shaking and clunking and the engine light was blinking and I was afraid to keep driving but I really had no choice: I'd just hopped in my car for the quick trip, was still in sweats and crappy shoes, and I'd left my cell at home.

Well, got my car home. Cried for a bit. Took a couple sleep aids because 'fuck it' and went back to sleep.

I woke up feeling a little better and thought I'd chance the drive to the shop (it's only a couple miles away) and it was doing all those things I mentioned.

When I started to tell the desk lady what was going on I started crying. Well, I'd just had my car in the shop for 2 weeks and 2 days. I'd just spent shy of 1500 dollars getting everything fixed. I had thought I was good to go and was proud of myself for taking care of it (it's hard to do stuff like that when you're alone. I had to rely on a couple friends to cart me to the grocery store...and asking for help is not my forte.) So here I was again and I was afraid it was dead, ruined. fucked up for good.

The shop owner, who I've known for years, was very nice. He said he thinks it's blah blah blah something about a cylinder 'missing' or not firing or something like that blah blah blah. I don't understand carspeak but he was very very nice and that helped a LOT. They looked at it right away. I told him I was sorry I was upset but...and he goes "Oh, I understand. You just spent all that money on it..." and he had one of his employees take me home.

I've been proud of myself lately because I'm trying really hard to get my shit together. I was so scared my car would be pronounced dead and then what would I do? I guess it still could be but M didn't seem to think it was anything really serious.

But, there it is: I was SORRY for being upset when why should I have been sorry? There is always that nagging feeling deep inside that I am the cause of everything that goes wrong. I don't know why I do that. It's a great burden when you're pretty sure all the ills of the world are your direct responsibility. Of course I'm exaggerating and trying to throw in some levity, but there is that constant feeling of being 'less than' and if I were more, things would be better.

Oh well. That's all. I'm fine and my family is fine and my oldest nephew (and godchild) is getting married to a wonderful girl a week from tomorrow. Life isn't all crap and mud puddles.

I just got really frustrated. :(

Uggh. Car trouble is the suxxor.

I'm glad they are being nice to you, and hope it's an easy fix.