This is my uneventful life, volume three, how to have sex with a kimono on.
In other words, it's my third attempt at a blog. I start these things and never seem to keep them up very long, I'm hoping this one isn't the same.
So I'm Andi, 19, mother of two. Vloger, blogger, seamstress, crazy cat lady. Oh, and I like knitting and fruit tea.
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
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.
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.
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 forciblykiss 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
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
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
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
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!
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.
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
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.
When I started writing about my stay in a psychiatric
hospital it seemed an appropriate title, and now it’s becoming more and more
For the last two weeks I’ve been fine, I’d be allowed if we
knew where I was going. The problem is I’m homeless without Alexandros full
time and they want him to stay in foster care. He’s eating much better now. My
psychologist is arguing that because I’ve got my medications now I should be
given a new chance because I’m much better too. Honestly, I’m the least sad
I’ve been in ages, I’m not saying I’ve been depressed, that’s their words not
mine. Most likely I’ll be going into a foyer for people without children, so the
same set up as last time but without Alexandros.
I worry about how I’ll cope without him, they’re expecting
me to get a job, but I don’t know if I can work with what the doctors say is depression. There have been times over
the last couple of years where I can’t be bothered to crawl out of bed, will
that work if I’m meant to be working? Things like this worry me slightly.
I’ve been given a date for getting out of here, the end of
March. This really is great because I’m fed up with being in hospital. However
it’s also terrible because finding somewhere to go in that short of a time is
unlikely. If they can’t find anywhere they’re hoping to find a group that will
finance a stay in a hotel for me, or they’ll hold me here longer. Neither is
ideal. None of this is ideal.
My feeling is I need Alexandros, probably more than he needs
me. He takes up my time and gives me a reason to do things, I have to get up
because if I don’t nobody will feed Alexandros. I have to go out because
Alexandros needs new clothing. If he’s in foster care I’ll have nothing to do
all day, what will I do with my time? Work, visit Alexandros, sleep. The
depressing routine of I have fuck all to live for. That’s why I tried to kill
myself in the first place; I didn’t want to go through that.
They’re talking about me getting Alexandros back as soon as
possible though, as soon as I prove I can take care of myself. But without him can I take care of myself? He was my
motivation half the time. He’s the reason I didn’t act on the suicidal thoughts
for six months., I' weeks
n a psychatric1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111