Sunday, 27 February 2011

My family

About 4 years ago my younger brother got drunk and was being an arsehole at a small gathering at his house down near London. He was being rude to my Mum and then rude to me, and so I said I'd prefer not to communicate that way and he told me to "Fuck off". So I did. But on the way out I made the mistake of venting my own spleen, and this meant leaving the house with my brother behind me screaming insults and abuse at me. It was all a bit distressing, and we haven't patched it up, or even tried. I don't want to be yelled at, and I suppose I haven't really forgiven him for some of the things he said about my mental health. Yes, Chris I am "dysfunctional" thanks for pointing that out! I am the one who's been in hospital, attempted suicide, on medication, and in therapy over the years. That's me. That's not you - you're the one who earns £60 per hour, has a wife, and three kids; you're the one who has something like a normal life. Yeah, mate, you got that one right.

Anyway one of me other brothers sent round a family email with lots of addresses on it. And Chris replied to all - so that I got his response which included a blurb about his kids and some photos. It was pretty weird to get this accidental update after years of being in Coventry. I felt uncomfortable and a little angry. I decided to block that particular email address - it was a work one and he changes his job every 6 months anyway.

Meanwhile my Mum is just back from another stint in Africa as a missionary. Safe and well, thank God. Conditions are primitive where she goes. I don't begrudge her doing it, spending my inheritance(!), but at 71 and with two artificial hips, I worry about her.

Saturday, 26 February 2011

Back

Well it's been a long while since I blogged here. Christmas was a bit of a nightmare - I tried to stay on my strict diet and went a bit mental. Couldn't do it and felt guilty. Got depressed. Fell apart. I never like Christmas anyway, but this one was the worst.

So now I'm getting back on my feet a bit. Diet kind of working again, though this week has not been as successful as last - dieting requires momentum, and having lost mine I'm struggling to get it back. Still I'm under 85 kg now, and my BMI is about 27.

A couple of nights ago I have terrible burning pain in my chest and thought I might have to call an ambulance. I did call NHS Direct who were quite helpful - thanks to Daren in Newcastle. It came on about 1.30am and lasted an hour and a half. I've had some blood tests done, and will have an endoscopy which will be fun (NOT). This is probably caused by long term anti-inflammatory use.

Otherwise my health is not too bad. Stable with some pain but not unmanageable. I don't know when my Work Capability Assessment will be, but it must be coming up. I'm terrified that they're going to try to force me back into work - I don't think I could do it. I still have no effective treatment for my fibromyalgia other than rest and not doing things that aggravate it. I really struggle with relating to other people, and get stressed very easily and quickly. With thousands of able bodied and sound minded people out of work who need jobs and who can't survive on the benefit I wonder what the point of me competing with them is.

I don't believe David Cameron - we are not all in this together. David is a millionaire who is not having to personally cut back. The rich have gotten richer during the financial crisis and the middle and the poor are paying directly for it. We're paying in reduced benefits, higher prices, in reduced local services, in lost jobs. They're getting million pound bonuses for fucks sake. How did no banker end up in jail over the fraud involved in sub-prime mortgages? If it were not for the fact that they'd just deport me, I might be up for some direct action against bankers. Those bastards at Barclays that made record profits and only paid 1% tax - how does that work? Royal Bank of Scotland makes a loss and pays the CEO a cool £2 million bonus for running the business into the ground. Something is rotten in the city of London!

The good news is that one of the MEBs is moving out. I found P quite stressful to live with. He is a noisy eater which I hate. I hate the sound of other people eating -it's like finger nails on a blackboard to me, and that's when everyone is eating with their mouths closed and not slurping. He's also a terrible cook, producing quite the worst food I've ever had served up to me in several decades of communal living. But the worst thing is that outside the house he's very active doing all kinds of things, but inside he's very passive. He'll go the extra mile to help someone with a fund-raising event, but does the absolute minimum around the house. And being passive he responds to feedback with passive aggression. So ask him to clean up the shit he's left lying around and he'll just sulk, and do the thing he should have done without being asked in the most ungracious manner short of telling you to fuck off. He won't not do it, but he'll let you know that it's only because you've been a dick about it. He's just a pain in the arse to live with - but not a bad person. Anyway I'm pleased he's going. We're replacing him with a guy who's also quite young (30's) but seems a bit less green.

One thing about English men that I find incomprehensible is the way they wash dishes - this seems to be almost universal. They seem to have a rule that one sink of water, with minimal suds, is the maximum and no matter how full of grease and food it gets, no matter how thick and soupy, that it cannot be replaced. Often the dishes are coming out with more grease on them than they went in with. So it's no surprise that I have to check every dish and mug in the cupboard before using it - about 50% of the time there is enough residue to make me less than keen to eat off it. And they get quite shitty if I suggest that they cannot clean dishes in dirty water. I suppose that's what they've grown up with? And P was one of the worst at this as well.

So hopefully I get back to more regular reportage of my life amongst the English and the MEBs, and dealing with mental and physical health problems, and living on benefits.