If it is not broken

[Spideysenses]

I know there are specialist roles unfilled in healthcare in the UK. But there is not enough skilled work out there for the youth. Number of beds means the trained and experienced staff needed to tend to patients needing beds.

[Spideysenses]

I would blame bad luck. Then come to my senses and remember how a little power can go to some people's heads. It was bad people and not bad luck. In conversations, I knew that most knew about Four, but I did not mind if they played along with me being in an abysmal job was mostly "bad luck." Hard luck. Hard times. Hard upbringing. Reality bites hard. I was not lucky to have been in Four. So I cannot count myself getting the treatment I needed as "good luck." The doctor did pull out more stops for me than some. I had the means to recover and was recovering quickly. But yes, a lottery cannot be viewed as the envy of the world. Wards of cutting-edge technology are left unused because of a skills shortage.

[Spideysenses]

https://greenworld.org.uk/article/en...ces-rising-too

[Spideysenses]

Would I have overdosed if I had a job worth holding onto at that moment in time? A job that gave me hope of getting the old me back and made me hopeful about my future? It certainly played a part in my feeling as low as I did. Knowing that I could even lose that job if my hospital stay came to light compounded the despair. Writing was not a dream. It was the only way to get myself out of the prison I was in. I had failed and had to break the elephant down. I did not waste time job hopping. It is a small town. I was never going to stay in that type of occupation. I was bored senseless and not happy there. Some Women pick up on this right away at times. Clearly, If I could then others could. So I was offered a reference (some people have a moral compass unlike pillar) They knew that I was just not one of the cliques and bored witless. Saying someone like me would not fit this job was a meaningful compliment. I had time for the dust to settle. What else could I hope for? Running would have made a bad situation worse in the long term. I am not sure how I knew being young. It was not my family who helped me see.

[Spideysenses]

Those who mind do not matter
Those who matter do not mind
-Philosophy of DrSuess

[Spideysenses]

My ol'dear was so out of touch, emotionally, that she said before I would go to an interview to say I had been in rehab. I did not take the art therapy I was offered because I knew I could not rip open the wound yet. Even to a professional. So I was not going to tell someone I did not know from Adam that I had been in rehab for mental health treatment. She did not want me to get the job but I think part of her believed that it was a worthwhile suggestion. That someone may take pity on me. At eighteen I was more grown up than my parents. Rehab forced me to grow up quickly. I was angry that they would never recognise or acknowledge the traumas I had been through. By then I was aware that abusive people rarely to never apologise. They were the type of parents who would lay the blame on the woman for being raped by a man. - "Girls and women are vulnerable by their gender and biology. It happens. Men cannot always control what is between their legs. Look at x and y who cannot keep it in their pants but z is still with them through thick and thin. Women should not tease. Give them some slack. Life goes on"- No. Date rape injections are not a moment of lust or madness. These are frightening, premeditated, violent, degrading, evil, and life-altering crimes. Control. Life does not go on.

*My life views are incredibly different to my folks. It was my ol'dear who got lost somewhere down the line. What has kept the fire burning for the last ten years, is the conviction that I knew I was on the right path and that my life would change. I could not create something new, if I were slogging my guts doing the work I did before. My family were never going to respect me when they had made me the scapegoat and did not want me to live a good life. Never. Then I rebuffed their plans. Told the truth.

[Spideysenses]

Life is wasted when time is spent wanting or wishing for what you don't have

[Spideysenses]

I did not mind doing chores and running errands for my Gran. I would not leave her on her own after relying on my Grandfather for most of her life. Let's cut to the chase. I had to quit my job because the car I bought and needed from a relative was not road worthy. That was top of the list. I thought that they would not sell me the car if it would endanger my life. But they did. I knew on the test drive that it had been run into the ground. But I guess I was desperate. I could not carry on working to save for a new one since I had bought it. But I would never have gone to their doorstep to demand my payment back. Bane of life not only knew about rehab but intended to let every person possibly be aware of my misfortune. Hand her the hammer and nails.

I did not realise how worn to the quick I was. Growing up with my parents I was used to not knowing peace or comfort or having someone there for me. I thought a little rest would do the trick. I did not expect to hit a low so hard, after years of abuse from him. It was everything. Piling up and piling up. Like someone on here said: trying to do it alone is a trauma response. At twenty-three that was me.

[Spideysenses]

After wildfire. A crushed sense of worth cannot be healed overnight. Ten years to get the ball rolling.

[Spideysenses]

My brain was all I had growing up. I am naturally quite shy but I found out how to overcome it. I always had friends and felt respected by most of my classmates. Four threw more than a spanner in the works. My ability to think was my prized possession. What made me me. It was my way to a better life.
Now my brain was taking a beating under the weight of external stigmatisation. I still had my brain. I could not just switch it off. Not being able to use my brain was making me ill. It was like a mole going blind living in darkness underground. Not having any mental stimulation was making me depressed. I knew I was a writer. But I could have a rewarding profession at the same time.

With borderline (beyond reasonable doubt Odd is borderline) I was made to feel like I had nothing to give at all. I knew it was his own mental ill's to blame for the unrelenting abuse and violent threats. But when you hear something over and over again sometimes you begin to think: why would they think this about me? I know it is them and not me but..?
Am I weak is it that why I get all this grief thrown at me? I need to toughen up or I won't ever get out of this rut?
I had a lot of building up to do after Four. I nipped it in the bud and I was still young. Odd saw this as an opportunity to chip away at me. How could I be smart if I had had a mental breakdown so young? You may be a bit smart but you must be meek and feeble-minded to have needed mental health treatment don't you think? Can't walk in those heels you look like a clown. That make-up does not suit you. Who are you wearing the make-up for? You can dress up and wear all the make-up you like but you were still in the funny farm. You won't ever be a writer. Nobody will listen to you. Who will take you on? Who will take a chance on you after? Who will feel sorry for you when people have their own families to take care of and businesses to run? All your pals are no-hopers like you. People have their reputations to think about. Compared to me, you are a stain on the fabric of society. Look at what you have lumbered me with? Look at what I have to deal with. I stood by you. You owe me. Me me me me. Your fault. You are always wrong.

[Spideysenses]

I went through hell to get work. When I did get the work I deserved- I had not given up hope- all that Odd had to do was weave a story to Thirteen and even though it may be one week when work found out, it was back to square nothing. I was being held for ransom. Getting my family on board his scheming would have been easy for borderline. My family did not care if he was lying at the end of the day. They believed that I owed him after all. My old dear did not want me to do well and her meal ticket got a kick out of proving "people with brains" don't always make it in life. There is never one bad parent. Takes two. Everyone had their own agenda and here I was stuck in the middle of all the games, unwilling to bend, not caving in.

[Spideysenses]

All that borderline(Odd) had to do when I was on the way out of the rut was lie and I did not know if I would get the understanding ones I had saw before. I may well have been placed in for a few days but that was all that was needed in a small town. I had to live with that fear and it held me back where I missed out by a whisker. I do not have to prove myself. I never have had to. But I was sick of being humiliated. At work. At home. It was not "just life" that had put me here. It was the people in my life. I am one person. Moving away to begin afresh is not so easy in "the way this half lives." The elephant took priority. Better the devil you know. I did not want to be humiliated at work or by a vicious borderline any longer. Living in fear of losing my job when management found out about one month. Living in fear of Odd's temper. No reprieve. Nowhere safe to relax.

Being able to mend a fractured relationship with family is something I did not think I'd see. I was supposed to be doing more and I needed more than existing in fear and being humiliated. When a person tries to break you down and keep you as s shadow of your former self and knowingly hurts and humiliates you, then they are sadistic.

[Spideysenses]

I should have known that if Odd was found to have lied that the doctor would have alerted law enforcement. The doctor would have been outraged that he had tried to pull the wool over their eyes and had an innocent person put under scrutiny. They would have suspected foul play and abuse.
Writing a memoir is not an attention-seeking decision or about wanting pity. Being a victim of a crime does not make a person weak-willed or have any bearing on intelligence. Fear of being alone is a strong drive to not cut people out of your life. Blood is not always thicker than water.
Writing and sharing on a mental health forum is not like appearing on a chat show for fifteen minutes of fame. At twenty-three I was shards on the floor. My self-worth was smashed to smithereens. I could not face anyone. Scared for my life, I fled from Odd. And my family were trying to force me into becoming an enabler and that entailed being a carer too. For the sake of my own health, I refused to be an enabler to a lifelong alcoholic who would have taken the rent I paid and spent it on whiskey and cigarettes. Then leave me nothing. As happened anyway. I was the only one. My Grandfather would have agreed with the punishment. Did I deserve to be punished further for a breakdown? How much is enough? He gave to charity and I got nothing.
I had not healed from one month. Pride goeth before a fall. But this is not quite the same. Beaten and broken, so take the time we can offer. You deserve this help. There is another way. Take the time to stand back and see it. Change perspective. It was hard to believe then. But I think I am not the only one who is glad I was brave enough to swallow my pride and relieved that I knew I had to lose the battle. I was one person and the feeling that hardly anyone had been on my side until then was true in a sense. Up to that point. I had been doing too much alone. I had to write to win the war. Change was possible. I needed to know that. Writing about why I was in rehab so young was completely necessary. For me and the future of mental health treatment. I was not above my station for believing I could be a voice for change.

[Seagull]

Originally Posted by Spideysenses

Life is wasted when time is spent wanting or wishing for what you don't have

Irony?!

[Spideysenses]

"No matter how long it takes" is not to be misconstrued as "whatever it takes." The former is a time scale. The latter is a boundary issue. In therapy sometimes you have to repeat and revisit to see what you have missed. Exposure therapy is repetition. Reprocessing would require revisiting to get an accurate recall to work with it. Art or writing works best for some people. Talking with the right person under the right conditions works for others. You know, I always spoke to someone when it was needed. This is life. It is not like television. A therapist's couch for some might be doing extreme sports or playing the drums. Someone else would prefer to look after animals or cook. Not everyone has an elephant-like mine after rehab. So yes, my family did not let me rest or relax, after, so they are to blame as much as Odd and the draconian conspiracy theories.
My old dear thinks that I was going to try and invite myself to the family holiday in the sun next year. They have a selective memory. One holiday with them as a youth left me with enough to deal with. When a stranger confronts your parents with a baseball bat and threatens to phone social services on them, you can imagine the way they were. They told people that I ruined the holiday. Never one bad parent.
For the record, my old dear took all the drugs she could get her hands on back in her "wigan casino" days. It is the music xandra. Everyone knows it was a den of iniquity. I stake a guess it was cocaine, MDMA. She and my grandparents were beyond hypocritical. Coming off as middle-class Christian zealots. We always give to charity. My Grans' side can sink their whisky. Blame. My cups full and flowing over. Yeah my gran's glass was never empty. That. Was. For. Sure.
If what was best for old dear and would punish my blood father? If you could have felt the pure hate in my household you would have known it was not a short temper. That when my old dear said she was checking the obituaries to see if my blood father was dead, she was not kidding. She is the one who did all the drugs under the sun. I do not listen to a word that comes out of her mouth. Scapegoating is an ill. Scapegoating is evil. Looking for a way to feel numb and not feel by self-medicating was normal. Where does a person start? How does a person unravel the threads? Why did I not speak at eighteen? Because my family would have told everyone that I was lying. Having bipolar probably helped me survive. But because of it, my family tried to single me out. They would have if it were not for wildfire (I know Scooby doo). The old man used to pace around the house flipping a knife at one point. Lord knows why. Trying to act hard.
They say that some affluent people are scared of people who live on council estates. Truly frightened. Like every family is a Martina Cole novel. The Take. In a sense, many people who never had it, and are lucky to make it are often out for themselves. My family or friends would never be happy for me. So what do I do? I have to try and make a living from my art and writing or I am done for. Forget the meritocracy. Forget social mobility. I just want out of this. Be free to practice my art and live. At twenty-three I still did not have a safe home to come back to at night after labouring away. What did I want?
When it comes to writing my unreliable narrator novel, I have a plethora of inspiration to draw on. Trigger warning added.

[Spideysenses]

I could not separate all the reasons and contributing factors. I had to figure out what led to the nervous breakdown and accept that I had been a victim first. It was what led to four that was to blame. The people in my life.
I could not wait until life was more settled when I needed a roof and a job right there and then. That is why I had to take risks. Why I needed to improve on the creative spark that was lit. To survive. I never considered that I was scapegoated until I left Borderline. I will give the maniac a capital this time. I had to report the truth. But believe me, I did not plan for the raw unfiltered draft to be uncovered. But it provided me with safe passage. Don't break down any more walls.

[Spideysenses]

For a time I could see why people would not want to maintain any type of relationship with me since the conspiracy theories gave me a possible grim outlook. But I felt unwanted long before the breakdown. My family made me feel like I was supposed to be dead and buried. What made me unlike some of the other "conspiracy theory cases?" Why was I still living when a family friend had said. ...? Read me my last rites why don't you?
I felt like on one level they wanted me to go down and down. There is no "type" that takes drugs. I have never taken illegal substances/drugs. I can enjoy a relaxing drink. And I can put my nose to the grindstone. But if it is between developing and using a talent - my brain; or trying to prove myself at a back-breaking job then there is no need to weigh up the two options. A chance to get out of the rat race was still a chance. I ratted out my family as far as they are concerned. They will never fully forgive me. That was my only choice. The only way to have a proper life. It was the truth. There was no alternative. They should know that actions have consequences. I know I have emotionally immature parents. How I wish I could use another phrase but I hate pop psychology at the best of times. Emotionally hardened may be more suitable. The callous indifference to others' suffering.

In rehab, I saw what drugs can do to some people. Seeing that made me even more averse to them. As a young woman, I came across some vultures. I can see why I was home after four weeks to recover. I know that the staff have to contend with having to keep bad eggs away from young or already traumatised people. While there I also saw and spoke to ordinary people with families, kids, spouses, careers and lives. My family and Odd and Pillar and anyone else who spread lies had no right to do what they did and expect me to do nothing and suffer in silence. I call writing a dream. Ten to sixteen years ago it was the only way I could see out of the nightmare.

[Spideysenses]

I write what I see
The dark and light
The just and unfair
The beauty the horror
Love wonder awe kindness
Hate mirth jealousy violence

[Spideysenses]

There are those who think "life is short" so if I screw one person over, big whoop. Survival of the fittest. I will die one day anyway. "Life is too short." What can one person do? You win by making them lose.

Then there are those whose view is "Life is precious" and if I can help or reach one person I'd be happy. I want to spend my time preserving life. I will use my time and dedicate it to a cause.

[Spideysenses]

Wouldn't life have been easier for everyone else if I had been in Four because of Drug use? I did not have a meditation cushion. Meditation is not recommended for anyone who has experienced trauma. Some mindfulness works for me. Mindfulness can be incorporated into day-to-day going on. There when the need arises.

[Spideysenses]

I was a failure. I vowed never to be anything like my parents. Never make up for the lost time. The root of all my troubles was that I had no home to relax and feel safe in. A home where I was threatened with violence more days than not, was not a real home. I was not going to sleep in my car when I had lost enough sleep being sidelined to the couch to hide from Odd's outbursts. I knew first-hand that without proper sleep, work was not possible. It was suicide. Slow suicide. I would hardly bulldoze that god-forsaken house if it was detached (I know someone who did) as I saw Odd when there was a leak and the colour drained from his face. And I would have gone to prison. I am talking hypothetically. I am not the vengeful type.

I needed to know what my options were. I already knew they were very few and far between. I did not need to prove that to myself. I was nothing. I had to show that I simply had nowhere to go. If I wanted to carry on in the field of work I was in, I had to move sharpish. The company that left the door open could have seen me through. But there was not enough for everyone and fighting over overtime and nightshifts would have become tiresome.
Odd had bled me dry. To assuage his temper tantrums I had to pay for all I did. I was not soft or weak. I was afraid.
It was the same old cycle. My supervisor would not give me a glowing reference as they were a tyrant who blackmailed me and I put her nose out of joint.
If I wanted to meet someone it had to wait and was not even in consideration. After Four? After Odd put me through the wringer? So I wrote. I made it clear to my family that I was not staying. They made me as unwelcome as possible. I had to pay rent to a family who would p### it up a brick wall when I needed the money. Nothing had changed.
I was going to end it. Writing this now I wonder where I found the energy to put a flimsy plan in place to cover my tracks. I could have looked for a flatshare as I planned. I did not want to lay guilt on anyone who did not deserve it. I was trapped, stuck, miserable and could not see a future without drastic action on my part. But I would leave it enough time so no one felt guilty. No one but me would be blamed. I did not want anyone to feel guilty.
I just knew I was on the verge and I had tried all in my power to avert this. That it was not my own doing. All the years with Odd chipping away and setting out to break me down. It worked. He got what he wanted. My self-worth was crushed. It could not have worked out better for him. I had to quit the best job I had had til then. My family were as bad as ever towards me. They did not respect me then either and never will in the future.

Once I got in the car and just drove. I was dead on my feet some days. Work. Read. Write. Look after someone else house, do someone else's cooking and clean up their mess. Paying them to rent or pay bills. My life mattered to no one. I was tired of it all. Tired of my one month in the hospital being used as a way to enslave me or made me a target for others' selfishness and games. Their issues and abuse. Would unravelling everything that led to Four be enough?

Wildfire, my writing. Granted me safe passage. I had to scale down and simplify before I built back up again. My self-worth and esteem were so low that I would burn out again in no time. Getting well came first. I did not see that right away. I tried to pretend I just needed more time when I had already cracked it. I was already breaking, so I was intent on carrying on as long as I could in the hope I would gain an exit.
I had gotten the right help at eighteen and I was thankful for it. But I had not fully healed from it. If I wanted to get back to the old me and back to full strength I had to go back. I had made a breakthrough and yet I felt like nothing but a failure. Like I was cheating. Like I had taken the easy way out. Like I was playing a game and had used an ace up my sleeve. The mob boss had rumbled me and found it amusing. The catch was I had to work for them now. I would remain on the side of the fence I was given. I always owed someone. I had played the card and was bound for ten years of service. Why can't someone have given me a chance at a worthwhile f###ing job? None of this would have happened. I have a brain that can be put to good use. I am physically fit. Mentally sharp. I was over my shyness long long ago for crying out loud. Who really gives a hoot about the horsemeat scandal? That would never have needed to happen. I had to finish what I started. Ten years then ten years it is. The first twelve are the hardest is an unwritten rule. I am running on time. Two years to spare. Buckle up it is not over. The ball has just started rolling.

[Spideysenses]

"Ma boss needs a wifey to clean the bogs."
Can you imagine the mix of emotions that surged up? Indignant, demoralised and then crestfallen. Odd began by saying: "ma boss knows of a job you should apply for and that you would get as he knows you." Building up to it. Then the punchline. It did feel like an attack. He knew I should have been on my way to sunnier climes.
I was not entirely hopeful but a little part thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt. I knew that was a big mistake and a foreshadowing of what was on the way. I did not ignore it. After Four, the feeling of not having choices was compounded. I should have known. Nobody ever did anything for me unless they wanted something.

I called him a child and a bully and asked if he thought that my life was a joke. I reiterated: This is my life. A job can change a person's life for the better. I tried to end it but it was all or nothing with him.
Odd had this unquenching need to strike people down to feel better about himself. He had been preparing this for days and waited to spring it on me. Enjoying the painful outcome he had created and achieved. How can I trust anyone anymore? Nobody sees me anymore. Just Four at the forefront. I encouraged him to take this better job. He bites the hand that feeds. I had been in hospital. It was a big deal. I of anyone fully understood the hole it blew in my life. Everyone around me was making it worse than it was instead of trying to help me. Making me feel like I had been in prison and I had an "invisible record." Except this record was for life. A life sentence. Making me feel like I needed a miracle to eradicate one month. One month. Life over.
So I turned in. Feeling like a lost child again. Still helpless and powerless. When in truth I had grown up quickly and realised what had to be done.
The solution must lay within I had thankfully figured out. Going inward was the right choice after the hospital. I did not shut people or the world out. I just held my ground. I was going to overturn this life sentence. What other choice was there? I could not run. It went against my nature and intuition. I knew what I had to do so running would not work. I had not given up. I gave in and stopped trying to live up to other people's standards and expectations.
I admit I was not the easiest person to be around at times. I had to play my cards close to my chest after Four. But I was on the path to healing. If you give some people an inch they will take a mile. What would Odd have done if I had not etched the lines in stone? I stood up for myself and sometimes spoke my mind when I could have been more diplomatic or considerate of others' emotions. I refused to put on rose-coloured spectacles. It may never happen. It has.
Deep down I did not want to move away. I loved the outdoor spaces. It was perfect for art. I did not want to leave if there was a way I could stay and also live. This is my home too. I had chosen art. And I had to see if the dust would settle. I knew after a month. Artists knock down walls. A change happens within them. Some people can't. I had changed in terms of deciding that I would not put on a mask and pretend to be who I was not. My life was never normal. I had been pushed to find another path. I did not feel like I had fallen from grace when I voluntarily jumped.

[Spideysenses]

I cannot ask the question: if it were not for Four would Odd have respected me? I would not budge or cave in. So he turned violent. I was never going to let him take more and more. I was miserable in all the means to an end. Stuck. Enslaved.
Without Four, we would not have stayed together at all in the first place as I would have moved to Art School or had a worthwhile occupation. Freedom and independence. It is time to stop talking about what might have been. In writing. And speak about it openly. Can bad luck be good luck?

[Spideysenses]

I was in six weeks initially after destroyer. My family could not have cared less. That is the best-fitting description. They could not have cared any less. I have already written about the staged welcome from my mum and my alcoholic Gran. "Look how upset YOU have made your Granny. YOU child." Gran cries on a chair in the middle of the kitchen floor, miles away from the table while my ol'dear stares me down. Crocodile tears. The following nights I struggle to get a wink of sleep. I was back from rehab and I was beyond exhausted. It has stopped me from carrying out a plan that was intercepted upon the discovery of wildfire. Planning my exit was darn tough while I was working, looking after an alcoholic and my worth and esteem in bits from an abusive relationship. I knew I needed rehab because I was still suffering from eighteen when my life had stopped dead in its tracks. If the conspiracy theories were as everyone seemed to want to believe (backed up by some nurses too so there must be truth to be found?), I was living on borrowed time so best not to get attached.

So after having barely any rest or sleep, when my Gran was going through an alcoholic stage, where she had eaten little, drank nothing but coffee and whisky and had made herself sick and ill, I had to cave in. I went back to rehab telling them I was on the edge, had no sleep with my Gran who was an alcoholic and told them what my family had been like and how I would never go back to Odd who had left me this nervous wreck.
I spoke (very briefly trust me) about the abuse I received from my family as a child and back at eighteen and then what had ensued this time. That getting work after Four was no picnic. I did not need to speak about Odd. Society here does not like to attack a young man with a job who does not take drugs. Even if I could have been potentially made unemployable for life by being pushed to the edge because of them. If it were a male whom I spoke to, then they may have enquired about Odd. Asked if the abuse went as far as sexual assault. This woman was avidly interested in family only. I would like to say they did not want to push me too hard in one session seeing as the wounds were fresh. All I had was one session to get my situation across. One session. All we had was one session so she homed in on my family.

I was in Four. For now, it was one step at a time. My family were not on my side. Never were. They were a cause. This was not a matter for a friend. So I had to do it right this time. Recovery came top. I was very depressed. I know. I was a shadow of my former self. I had to find myself again after Odd when my life was not mine and I had a long road ahead of me. Struggle was all I knew.

[Spideysenses]

I fled Odd in fear for my life. Because I had been away from my family for years I could hazard a few months. I still had to pay rent. I did not know that I would be forced to go to my Grans house to stay. I was sleeping on the couch before leaving Odd to not set off his temper. If this is my only option. I was in Four. Life does not give me options. We were over. I had to leave pronto. Odd was not a man you wished to anger. Everyone caved into him and I would not. So he would never learn. Never change for me even if I wanted to stay together and was a glutton for punishment. He may change for the next but not me. I had to leave to get my life back. To get my life back I had to take a calculated risk.

When I felt up to getting out more on my evenings off I started going to the gym. My family did not like this hint of getting back out there. My Gran and Ol'dear didn't. I was earmarked as the gofer. Four had already made me feel like a ghost drifting along.

So my family told me I could not use the washing machine so I found myself washing my uniform in the sink and I had to pay double the rent I was paying. Like I was a bairn who has a toy "confiscated" for misbehaving. It was madness. I was a grown-up woman. More grown-up than all of them. I would not put myself through more head games at their hands. I was done with taking it. I was out of there. They deserved to be found out. I was talking for myself. I had to do this for myself.

I was going to go on a date but called it off. I came home alone on a night after shopping and going to the cinema with an online meet, and my ol'dear said I was a dirty stop out. Not as a joke. It was because she had to look after Gran and had figured out how much my Grandad had been doing and how far gone my Gran was. How everyone was running after her. Everyone. My Gran got dressed up for Saturday and for her theatre holidays or days out. The rest of the time she was an addict who thought she was a kept lady. My Grandfather had her in a routine. Butchers this day. Supermarket this day. Without him, she had no sense of the days. He was the conductor. All her life. Avery Stone is written on the door sign. A man's castle.
I destroyed the Freemason's certificate. A gentlemen's club. Who'd have thought my blue toffee-nosed Grandfather was part of a sect/pseudo-cult? Found Uncle Franks's letters.

Ol'dear actually said "whore." That was the word she used. Old-fashioned English and not the S starting derogatory slews. How refined of her. She was calling my sibling an "a###h@le" every day I learned, for being a young lad going out ( I got it for eighteen years, he got it when I left for a short while as my mother weaned herself off of her hitting out at me routine) "Here is the f###ing a###hole" "using this place as a hotel a###hole." She needed to be taking her anger out on someone (or everyone in her case, Odd was as bad as my mither). Then I get called a tramp for going to the gym and working and putting my life on hold for a self-centred and manipulative alcoholic. In retrospect, she was trying to stop me from going out to meet people and establishing my old ties. She is a headcase.

"Don't be a p###k all your life" was/is her favourite gripe to the old man. She looks for trouble. It was "rich" of her to say that Odd would fight with his own shadow. If she had no one to bark and shout at? The mini heart attack was not me! She does not care enough about me to start with. And the old man is always bewildered when she creates strife that is not there. She winds herself up. I say she is a spoilt as hell forces brat blaming the cantankerous get that was my Grandfather. She thought that everyone would jump to blame my blood father when I was in rehab at eighteen. Are you sure beloved mither? I take a pill for bipolar and I am a sap, a drip, a dreeb, a weakling. I was not born with it. At fifteen it started. The stress of my life made my brain search for an outlet. Before signing up age, I thank my lucky stars that my God is insightful and merciful.

I was working and looking after my Gran. I drove my Gran to bingo. Took the dog to the vet. I had not forgotten how bad thing's were at home. But I thought being older I would be tougher and have thicker skin. I inadvertently wrote "the end" on the calendar while watching tv and doing my time sheets. Doing all this was not getting me anywhere. It was just wearing me down when I was already at my wit's end. When I stopped it was all going to collapse on top of me. It did. I can't think of my mental state while in rehab. Hyper-vigilant. Frayed nerves. I had lost the battle. I am going nowhere. I had to remove myself from survival fight and flight before I could move on. I counted the small victories. Day by day is the way to recover. I can never dispute that cliche.

[Spideysenses]

I applied for a job and it was a good few miles from home. In town so to me too close. Cantankerous auld get asks me how I will get there every day. I was flummoxed as to why he made it out that it was like a lighthouse on an island a hundred miles out to sea. So I did the Scottish sarcasm " eh there are things called buses, I have legs to walk and cycle with. Have you heard of a bicycle? If there is snow I can get a taxi for one day. When I get a better job I will get a run-around. A moped is not expensive to get and run come to think of it."
I am not going to be on the mantlepiece with a green beret or mortarboard cap and gown but I am not my d### mither I seethe silently.
I am not my spoilt ruined headcase of an old dear who got a brand new mini cooper for her seventeenth but was too busy getting drugged out of her face every weekend to learn how to drive and quit her office job to take a "sabbatical."
Cannot choose your family. Cannot really choose your friends all the time either. At eighteen my parents kept saying I was too old to apply to office junior and admin apprenticeship jobs. Ol'dear led the way.
It was not them who made me plump for other work. I may have gone for a call centre position just to get away from retail. Being glued to a computer screen was what I wanted to avoid. Pay does not always reflect the stress of a job. Dealing with complaints all day, every day. Now you see why shelf-stacking jobs are sought after. Easy life. I was training with the British Team at the time and I needed work.
If I wanted it, I would have taken Administration or Accounting at college. I would have wasted my creativity. I could not imagine a life without art in it. Failure was a byproduct of creating something unique. I learned very quickly. Writing at a desk and doing art are different. I have an exercise ball for a break. Do yoga.

[Spideysenses]

No longer can Bibles to be found on the foot of the beds in the psych ward in the general hospital. Care to read me my last rites?

[Spideysenses]

I asked him to not wear the scarf after I was referred to VictimSupportScotland. Of course, I was ignored. Make me a cuppa tay he says. I ask to borrow money for a course and they say they can't afford it. New car. New motorbike. Organising a family holiday (I am not invited). I asked because a friend told me that they knew someone who now has a good job after doing it. I am a writer I do not take a day off. And yes my ol'dear has said more than once: "Get yourself a man." Bosses take on blokes, not our fault no one looks twice at you." "Not our fault ....took you for everything he could. You should know what men are like. Too soft. It is your fethers fault. Don't blame us. You will thank us for putting a roof over your head growing up. More than your fether ever did."
Him asking me incessantly exactly what I was going to be. I was too smart to go into nursing or social care. I had decided that teaching was not for me. I taught martial arts so I had a flavour
of what it was like to try and command a class of thirty-plus kids. And I was called talented. When it came to art school, fine artists were not only a rare breed but a dying one. On one hand, I wish I had known about Horticulture post-eighteen. On the other, I had to write and focus on developing my writing craft at all costs.

Get a man is my ol'dears solution to everything. I should not have to say this but I do not have a dim pessimistic view of men. I knew what some were capable of getting away with and that women played a part too. I am the complete opposite. I gave the men in my life more chances than they deserved. I won't make excuses for anyone anymore.
It is my family who is of the world view that men come first and should be able to work and then go out to the pub unencumbered by the stress of home. They have that privilege because they are men. That if a woman has to stay at home to raise the family then they should. Feel sorry for the man who has to put up with an ambitious woman. Yeah, I know my mum was hardly a homebody who wanted the best for her kids. Never have kids. Especially not girls. It is hypocritical. That is them. Noone stood up to Odd or took Odd aside. Everyone caved into him and I have no doubt that will carry on.

[Mr. Nobody]

Why are magpies crackling at this time of night?

[Spideysenses]

Who are you wearing make-up for?
You were in the funny ferm
Yur mutton tryin tee dress like lamb.
Yur nae foolin anybiddy. Abiddy kanes.

(-I as close to stop buying make-up
-As it causes fights if he is drunk)

The f### can she walk in thone shoes.
Looks like a clown
Ahll call er coco fae noo on

(-I stopped wearing heels
To get some peace )

Canna afford them anyhow.
Canna afford a book buying cast-offs.
Draggin me doon to your level
You mack me feel like a mink
Wi the pittance you tack in. Kane at?
Naebiddy will keep you on efter thone place.
Nae point gettin yur hopes up.
First half-decent meal you
Have cooked me in f### knows hoo long.
Sure you werena a man in yur past life
Goin oot dressed in jeans and a shirt?

- It is a blouse.
-I work! You never cook.

Nae like you can afford muckle else.
I deserve a girlfriend who (*bosses jokes)
I hae you. Yur bein a ##### by nae

-If you have nothing nice to say don't talk
-So we will live in silence.
-You talk at me!
-How hard can it be to have
-A conversation with me!
-Take your #### out on me. I will leave you know.

You need help.
I have been hinking that you need help.
You need tee accept you'll niver
Be anyhin efter thone hole you were in
And that yur lucky tee hae me

-Why did you want to stay together
-If I have nothing going for me?
-Think you can control me?

F### knows. I hae higher principles
Than most men and you winna get them.
Wi yur saft haed.
Ma feel aunt could dae yur job
But you hink....you bide in cuckoo land.
Hae to feel sorry for folk like you
Or wouldna get on wi life

-If you are above me in so many ways
-Why don't you find someone else?
-You resent me because of Four
-Is more the issue
-And you try and flip it onto me. I don't.
- You have to try and down someone else
-to feel good about yourself.
-Newsflash I do not want to be you

Sure aboot at? Women kane thur place
Look fit I dae for you and you winna....
It's only muffin munchin ###€s who wish they had a w@##er who dinna

-Oh wow that is what you believe Freud
-Not only do men want to be you
-But some women do as well, my god this is why...
-You have major issues!
-What have you done for me?
-I gave up everything for this relationship.
-I don't get your sense of humour?
-It is not a joke with you.
-You are trying to say that
-This is you trying to be funny all the time?
-You are never funny!
-I know what you are trying to do.

I hae issues? Wiz I in ward number fouwer? Nut.
Kane hoo lucky...

-You do have major issues
-I do not need to take this
-You know that I would have
-A better job yesterday if we moved. You know.
-I do not owe you. What do you want actual blood?

*Not a word-for-word replication