Wednesday, 23 April 2014

So what's the current plan with my life?

Good question.

To get back Alexandros.

Okay, that's the overall goal, but now the plan is that I relax and repose. GRRRR. I want my Squishy. That's not it though, there's loads of little steps I need to take.

The most important is probably my medication, apparently, contrary to what I was told by the doctor. It is not normal for me to feel like killing myself sometimes, even though it's only sometimes. Remember, without the pills it was almost all the time. With the pills it comes and goes every few hours, mainly when I'm alone and I'm bored. That's when It's likely to be dangerous they said. So I need to get that one changed.
More importantly, I ran out of pills and don't have the means to get more. Yay! I feel better without the pills, I have less the desire to kill myself, and no random crying, but I don't feel great, not happy. Less than normal, but more stable, it's kind of a constant my life is shit. But that's okay, I can deal with it at the moment.
So, in summary I need to get more meds, and the right meds.

Then I need to do something about the "Hi! My name is Andi and I only have 5 GCSEs so I know you won't give me a job" and that's in the form of getting an education, so I can get a better job so I can afford more than just a stuido apartment.
I'm thinking it'll be easier if I get classes on speaking french because then I've got something that proves I speak french. Annoying because I already speak french fairly well, but probably necessary.

And then after that, I need to get one of those job things. I'm not bothered what, just something that gives me money so I can buy things like clothing for Alexandros, and chocolate for Alexandros, and wool for my mum.
I used to want to do veterinary things, but recently that's been seeming like too much effort. The thing that puts me off is if now it seems like too much effort what will happen in five years time? Yeah, fuck that.
I'm thinking tourism might be interesting, and I live in Paris, Paris is interesting and has tourists. However I could start off and decided fuck that too. We'll see. That comes after I get an education.

Eventually once all that is done I need to find somewhere to live. Meaning I need an apartment, and I don't want to go back to the suburbs because the RER is a pain in the ass and there's no french people and nobody else speaks french and it's really weird. Or that could just be my experience, but whatever, I'd rather stay somewhere like Paris, so I need a job to pay rent. Yay! And I need a decent job because Paris isn't cheap. Grr.

Then once all that is fixed french social services say I can have Alexandros back full time. So that's what I've got to work towards, the thing is it's taking ages.

All because I didn't take enough paracetamol.

And it will be Neil's 3rd birthday on friday, but nobody knows where he is, so I've got no way of contacting him. -_-

Monday, 14 April 2014

I'm freeeeee

Well I'm free from the hospital I'm in a new foyer. I'm living in Paris
again which is greats, but I have to share my room

Here's photos of my little space

Sunday, 13 April 2014

Complications part 8

Complications, part 8. The 25th of March 2014.

Today has been the most eventful day yet. I’ve had bad news and kind of almost good news.
So this morning I was meant to have a meeting with the social worker who deals with Alexandros and I, he got there on time while I was doing the arty farty session. I was talking to him and he explained everything about how Alexandros will be going into foster care. My main concern with this, if I can’t prevent it, was visits. He said the relationship gets maintained, and the visits are progressive. I start with one visit a week, this then becomes trips out, then weekends together, and then he’ll come back with me. My next concern was when he comes back to me, they want me to get set up with a job and a flat first, and are giving me a time scale of 1-3 years. It seems really long, but realistically all I need to do is get a job and save for a couple of months, then a flat shouldn’t be a problem. I’m focusing on that for now, job, flat, rent, food, Alexandros.
The problem is I’m considered ‘fragile’ because of the depression I’ve been suffering from, so they’re worried about how I’ll do.

Then this afternoon I got some almost good news. I was doing more arty crafty things when a nurse came and said I had a visit. It was Donkey and Emuelk! So I hugged Donkey and skipped round in a circle until she got annoyed and Emuelk got jealous. They came to tell me a foyer had been found and I’d not be leaving the hospital homeless. Which was what I’d been told might happen if nowhere was found by the end of the month. I said permanent bye-bye (Waaaah!) to Emuelk, and she was as always demanding kisses. I gave her loads, so I think I’ve given her enough of my germs. Donkey didn’t ask for kisses, but I tried to tickle her and rugby hugged her.
I went to see the doctor to find out if I can go to my visit alone, he said yes. AND I am allowed out all day on Thursday, so I can mess around on Facebook and things too, which will be amusing. And I get to see Alexandros tomorrow, meaning I get nice hugs.

And by the start of next month I’ll be out of this hospital and into my new foyer.

I should probably explain this new foyer, but I don’t know much. It’s an emergency thing for vulnerable women and there are five beds to a room. It’s literally just so I’m not homeless until I get an apartment or another foyer.

Wednesday, 9 April 2014

Complications part 7

Time passes weirdly here. All day it seems to drag on, yet in reflection it goes so quickly. I have no idea how long I’ve been in here. Six weeks? Two months? It seems like that I guess. I don’t want to think about it too much, I want to focus about getting out of here.
They were going to put me out onto the road, but in the end decided against it. I already have depression and suicidal thoughts, making me go back to homelessness will apparently have a negative effect so I’m going to be in here a bit longer.
Even longer.
Please get me out of here.
I have a new roomie now, Crazy left. She’s gone to live in a foyer in Paris, I’m going to live in a foyer in Paris, part of me hopes we end up in the same foyer because we got on really well. My new roommate is awesome though, I thought I got on great with Crazy but I get on even better with Oldie. Oldie is a bit older than me, in her early 30s, and she’s also here for suicide with medicines. Yay!
The two of us are the only normal, I use that word loosely, people here. Everyone else is handicapped or completely insane. Seriously, the other people spend all day talking to themselves, or dribbling all over themselves. We’re both here on depression, everyone else is here because they’re handicapped or what seems to be schizophrenia.

I feel much better now I know I’m not being made homeless, I’m still bored shitless though.

Sunday, 6 April 2014

Complications part 6

Complications part six?
How many parts is this thing going to take? How much is there really to write about being in a loony bin? Whatever, I’m just happy that I’ve got the desire to write and rant again, although it’s not fuelled by the desire to kill or maim myself which is a massive improvement.
It’s the 17th of March, hey, it’s my brother’s birthday! Happy birthday poo head! <3
It also makes it a little over a month since I’ve been here. And three days before some big meeting with everyone who is working with me about where I’m going to end up and HOW THE FUCK AM I GETTING OUT OF HERE. I’m probably going into a foyer on my own, but some people are fighting for me to be with Alexandros in another foyer because now I’ve got the treatment for my depression and before I didn’t. Here’s hoping.

How do I even stay sane here? Sometimes when I see the other patients, the mentally handicapped, I wonder how I’m surviving this place, the other patients seem to be enough to drive a sane person crazy.
We have a grown woman here in her mid-30s and she grabs people to forcibly kiss them. It’s like being raped with a kiss, it is fucking scary. Then the other day she tried to kill herself by laying down in front of a car because everyone shoves her away when she tries to kiss them. She felt unappreciated, but is incapable of understanding why because of whatever makes her behave and think she’s a child blocks common sense.
And so because of weird people like that I spend as much time as feasibly possible hiding in my room. There’s not much to do here, I’ve got a computer, Microsoft word, a tablet, some music and a few aps. And some e-books; those are a real life saver. Ian Rankin is keeping me sane. I’m re-reading Rebus, again. There is a lot of good humour in those books, and it just brightens my day a bit, the story also absorbs me. Scarily I’m getting through a book ever day or every two days.

So yesterday I bravely asked the doctor “can I maybe go out because I need to get online to download more e-books so I can read more and not die from boredom or go insane like the other patients” well, those weren’t my exact words, I asked more nicely, in French. But that’s pretty much what I was thinking. He said oui, so I’m allowed out for three hours tomorrow. Most of that time will probably be spent on traveling, sod it, I’m going anyway. I CAN NOT STAY SHUT IN HERE.
I want Tess of the D’Urbervilles. And anything else that’s a free classic.
And the great thing is when these little three hour exits go well they get increased to all day. Although everyone thinks I’ll be out of here by the end of the month, and it’s already the 17th so the end isn’t far away.

The other thing I do, when I leave my room is the afternoon sewing and knitting circle because there’s sometimes a nurse willing to supervise us with dangerous knitting needles. Because obviously I can kill everyone with a pair of bamboo knitting needles; the hospital ones are metal but they were giving me wrist pain so I had a servant (Emuelk) fetch my bamboo ones for me. So far I have made myself a hat, a pair of mittens and I’m half way done on a little elf hat for Sandy. But I’m only getting two hours a day and I’m limited on supplies, I’ve only got a ball and two half balls of my own wool, and because everyone says I’m leaving soon I don’t want to start anything too big or with the hospital’s supplies.
I miss the awesome vest I’d started making.
I miss physical books too. And pens, and drawing with writing pens.
And edible food. Don’t get me wrong, the hospital food in France is better than the hospital food in the UK, but it’s still fucking terrible. Over cooked veg, no salt, steamed fish that just tastes horrible and I don’t even eat fish. Seriously, how many times do I have to explain my boobs are out of use so I’m strictly vegetarian again? I don’t like throwing it away either because it means some poor fish has been killed for food and has died in vain. I’m too sentimental with my food.

And let’s not start on how I’m lonely. No friends and I don’t want my mum visiting from England because of the 2 hour visit restrictions and the fact she’ll get hopelessly lost in a not so nice town. Well, the foyer I was living in used to visit daily, then three times a week, now they don’t visit at all. They were bringing me chocolate, and the other mothers I was friendly with. I’m not sure which I preferred, at least the chocolate never kissed me…
I miss Alexandros. Yeah, he was tiring, demanding, and there were days when I didn’t want to get out of bed, but he motivated me to do so. Whenever someone says I was a single mum for too long and that could have pushed me into depression I get annoyed. I was happy, I had breaks because he would leave me alone at times, I was never complaining about being a mother apart from when he’d refuse to sleep and he was tired, but it’s not that I didn’t want to be his mum. I miss his cuddles, before he was always there when I wanted someone to talk to, even if he couldn’t understand everything or give an adult response I had the feeling he cared. Now? Hello computer, how are your keys? Tired, ach, well. Friend. Hah. I miss Alexandros, even the nightmare nappies I miss. Something must be wrong with me.

 going to take? How much is there really to write about being in a loony bin? Whatever, I'1111111111111111111111111111111ust happy

I’m going to finish here, because this is a bit meaningless, just a minor rant. Have a nice day everyone!

Wednesday, 2 April 2014

Complications part 5

How to write a suicide note? I don't know.
I wrote one, I didn't like it, so I destroyed it. I started again.
I was trying to apologise for everything I'd done wrong, how I was sorry for making Alexandros have infantile anorexia. Otherwise I can't remember much of what I wrote.
Then the question of where to leave it?
Well I'd written it in a notebook, and it took more than one sheet, so I just left it there. On the protective cover for the radiator where it would be found.
And then where to hide it when I decided to bail out and an ambulance was on it's way?
I threw it my wardrobe and hoped nobody would tidy my room unless I died.
I hope Donkey didn't read it, I remember insulting her and she was so nice to me calling me an idiot and then getting me an ambulance. After all the times I called her stupid, and fat and all the mean things I did, but I'm being sentimental here. Insulting her was fun and she really does look like a potato.
My note was found, I know that much. Emuelk said she'd not read it and honestly I hope nobody close to me did. It was probably pathetic self pitying bullshit anyway.
I'm on antidepressants, yet I still think some pretty bad things about things I've done.
Because I'm pathetic and gave up then felt bad abandoning Alexandros I'm in this stupid hospital.
I guess the main feelings are guilt, stupidity and frustration with a good measure of boredom.
I'm still not sure why I told her, I thought I was sure I wanted to die. Afterwards I wasn't because Alexandros needed me and I couldn't calm him. I feel terrible letting him down like that.

Monday, 31 March 2014

A letter to Neil

Hey Neil!
I've not really got another way to contact you.
I doubt you even remember me by now. That makes almost two years since I saw you, and we’re so far apart. I’m your mother; I’m the one who grew you in my belly. The one who always tried to be there, the one nourished you, held you and loved you. But as I said, that was a long time ago, I hope you remember something of me. I hope you’ve got photographs of me and that you know who I am.
I miss you. Things shouldn’t be like this, it’s hard being so far away from you. Not knowing how you’re growing. Making guesses as to what you look like, you have no idea how much you looked like your uncle for the first year. I’m sure you’re still the same now, probably with shorter hair. A little tubbier I imagine, George was always a stick insect until he started school.
I wonder how you are, almost three, it’s a nice age that. Loads of innocence, how was Christmas? Did Farther Christmas bring anything nice? He got Sandy some nice toys, he got him a Noah’s ark, and an alphabet dragon puzzle, and a teething toy. I got a book from him too! I’m sorry I didn’t send you a present; I’ve not got your address. I asked my mum to make you another jumper, but I doubt you’ll ever wear it.
How’s England? Is your English coming along well? Watch your grammar, age is no excuse. France is okay, it’s spring like outside already. Sandy’s learning French and English, he says a mixture of both and seems to understand the words are interchangeable. It’s funny when he replies to au revoiur with bye-bye. Everyone keeps mocking my accent, like always, as long as I’m not angry I can fake an upper-class English accent, the rest of the time it’s kinda weird scot.
I hope you have a nice birthday. I’m having problems getting you a present because I’m in hospital again, but I’ll be thinking of you.
Lots of love,