11th September 2015
Hi, today is the anniversary of that terrible attack on the twin towers in America, I can remember it as if it was yesterday. I worked for National Express at the time, I was on an night shift from Norwich to Heathrow, which meant I got home early morning. When I got home I occidentally clicked onto the CNN channel, and I watched in horror as events unfolded, what a terrible day that was.
I have been thinking a lot lately about my life, I still can't understand how all the crap that is happening to me now could be hidden away in my head for so long, then suddenly appear. I know I got an explanation about the human brain and it's working, but, I am a thick bastard when it comes to complex stuff, in fact I have really never understood much about my life if truth be known.
It's been 11 years now since I last worked, I feel embarrassed just writing that, I have never been out of work, yet I am still unable to work for many reasons.
I tried a search today to see if my father left a will, no such luck there. I do know that he had life insurance valuing up to £250,000, I also remember going to his grave a few years back to see if I could find if he had a headstone, but he didn't. That woman he married a few years before his death must have taken the lot and run back to Canada. As if I give a shit.
The 8th of September was one of my grand daughter's birthday, I din't get asked to go at all this year, maybe, it's my own fault, I wasn't in the best of places as it was the anniversary of my aunt Beattie's death as well, God rest her soul.
I have been losing bits and pieces of my memory, mainly stuff that happens now and in the past few days, why? Well I was warned I guess, that it would happen because of my stroke and I was warned it will only get worse, which it is.
The worse thing just lately is the loneliness, I sit here all day, every day, alone, no-one caring enough to come round or drop me a text or even a phone call to see how I am. Margaret comes home late in the evening after looking after the grandchildren all day. She goes to work, so early in the morning as well, it's unbelievable how she does it, I see her for maybe 2 hours, or sometimes even 3 hours if I'm lucky, then it's off to bed for her and snoring time.
My CPTSD has been playing up again, big time, the flashbacks during the day are back and one I had made me feel physically sick, to the degree that I nearly vomited. I still wonder how a man who was supposed to be there for his child through thick and thin, offer him advice, care for him and yet do none if it, instead, beat him black and blue every day, again his words "just for the fun of it" I just cannot get those words out of my head, mentally abuse me every day, and sexually abuse me when no-one was around, how could he do that to me? That is something else I just cannot get to grips with, also something else I just cannot handle out of all of that is, how come my schools that I went to didn't even lift a finger to help me, why?
I saw Jonathan broad a few days ago, it was nice seeing him, we had a little chat and I asked him if it was possible if he could become my care worker again, I used to trust him, I could tell him anything at all, but he said he doubted it because the way the cuts have taken place over the last couple of years, things have changed so much. Maybe I should jump off a bridge or take another overdose, I have been having those crazy thoughts about suicide again, I have been fighting them, but as each day passes that fight gets harder and harder. Will I give up the fight? Maybe the way things are going, I will, sooner rather than later.
It'll be my mum's birthday on the 30th September, and every year that has passed since she died I still see those texts from her phone, calling me a 'murderer' and warning me not to go to my own mothers' funeral, all because I agreed to turn her life support off, every year the weeks leading up to her birthday and the weeks leading up to the day she died, 16th December, are the worse time for me, but all I get is grief from Margaret, "Oh he's got the fucking hump again" seems to be her favourite saying. Of course I got the hump, but it's not directed at her, it's just the way I am feeling, but does she understand? No of course not, since the day I was diagnosed with cptsd, depression and anxiety she just doesn't give a shit on how I am feeling. She never asks how I am, she never asks about the things I experience, she never asks sweet fanny adams about me. She used to for a couple of weeks, but she got fed up, because of the amount of stuff I used to talk to her about, but it's okay for her to come home and go on and on and on about frigging Starbucks and how to make this coffee and to to make that coffee and how many customers she served at a particular time of day, I sit there and make out I am interested, but I don't give a fucking shit about all that crap, who would?
I had better stop there before I say some things I might regret, because you never know who is actually reading my blog. here, I will finish with a poem I wrote several years ago, anyone who does read it I hope you like it ..... I called it 'Pain'
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
Going through life searching for trust.
I hide it inside - no feelings I can show.
A mask of disguise - no one can know.
I sit and watch all the actions around.
I can't join in and let it bring me down.
To melt into darkness is better for me.
When day light comes - the pain its all there to see.
I must have my space - a space I cannot share.
I must keep it secret - my space without care.
You are not welcome where I hide my pain.
It is in darkness and it has no name.
Matters of the heart can live for awhile.
At least I can say - for a time - I did smile.
Till death does come that is what you said.
Even in darkness - its still in my head.
I still remain hiding my pain.
I still decide to stay insane.
People can't even see my pain.
Or they can't even know my name.
The darkness covers my life.
Even cuts deep – like a knife.
Can I see a way out?
I want to scream and shout.
But will anyone hear?
And see in my eyes my fear.
Pain and hurt rule my life.
I look down and see the knife.
In my hand – It has a mind of it's own.
It plunges into my chest – my soul has flown.
To my God, I am in his hands.
My pain has gone – I hope you all understand.
TTFN
