Had Enough of Everything

I don’t know how to express how I am feeling.. desolate, numb, angry with the world.

It wasn’t enough that Dad was diagnosed with incurable blood cancer a year ago, but now Mum’s health is deteriorating quite badly. Her hernia episodes have become more and more frequent causing her pain and vomiting. On Tuesday she was so bad all day that in the evening we called an ambulance and went to hospital. The lovely nurse gave mum some hope that they might treat her hernia at last (she has been waiting since February). They told her to come back at 9 in the morning when the surgeon would speak with her.

So, the following morning we hang around for over six hours, only for a tubby man with a big attitude to tell mum quite coldly that if they operate there is significant risk of death, especially because of her weight and also her heart vessels are narrowed (nobody ever fucking told us any of this before). After ten months of waiting and suffering during which time it was never suggested that she should lose weight, suddenly he drops this shitty bombshell. Then he just sent her home, feeling utterly devastated and lower in morale than I have ever seen her. She is now saying that she’s too scared to have the operation.. but she has no quality of life as she is.

I’m terrified I’m going to lose both of them. I have nobody else.. not even extended family. My brother is not someone I would turn to for support. We are just too different.

As for me, I finally got my chest x-ray done today. I’ve had this cough for about six weeks and haven’t felt able to exercise.

Every day I send email after email looking for a home for my homeless friend. But I get rejection after rejection because of his dog.. and today I even got accused of being a scammer by some bell-end on Airbnb. It’s freezing out there and there is no hope for someone in his situation..

Another friend is trying to come to terms with having lost most of his bowel in an op.. he has to be drip fed for twelve hours a day. And another friend is in hospital with chronic pancreatitis and now flu! Dad won’t come near me now in case I am carrying it!

So I quite frankly feel like giving up on everything.

Hohoho Merry Christmas

People and me.. Why do I bother?

I feel drained and spent right now. Like the world has sucked the life out of me. People take and take but never give back to me, and I’m not talking about money, although I have now spent over £235 on my homeless friend. And I find out that he spends a lot of it on weed. I understand that he finds life hard and needs a vice.. But I am not working and have spent so much time and energy trying to help him, I don’t mind getting necessities for him but to me weed is a piss take.

Almost two months ago I spent hours of hard labour clearing and cleaning another friends rancid rubbish from her flat.. And taking it to the tip. I turned up with pizza for her. She had since had the whole flat decorated, but do you think I’ve heard from her or had an invite to see the newly decorated flat? Of course fucking not. I don’t want much, just to feel of worth. That’s all.

What I really long to get back from people is the sense that they acknowledge me as a person who has her own needs, hangups, insecurities.. Someone who is allowed to be weak herself sometimes. Someone who needs a friend to be there for her rather than feeling its my job to be there for the other person. I’m not allowed to need to turn to alcohol to survive, but other people can do what the fuck they feel they need to survive. I’m just supposed to be there for them and then when they hurt me I’m supposed to forgive, even though they damn certainly wouldn’t forgive the same behaviour if it came from me.

I’m sick of people. They drop me like a sack of rubbish, like the friend I went to Malta with did. Like my friend off here did. Like everyone does eventually. So sick of everything, I feel burned out. I don’t belong in this selfish world, I’m too sensitive. I’m fucking exhausted with life. And this cough still won’t go. Fuck it.

P. S. Apologies for my language today, but it kind of expresses how I’m feeling.

Back to hospital

Tomorrow mum has her echocardiogram to find out what is going on with her heart. She is desperate to be given the go ahead for her hernia operation as this impacts her life so much, but also we are really worried about her heart.

Then Tuesday dad is back to see his consultant and find out where we’re at with the dreaded ‘c’ word.

So a week of hospitals and worries really..

Being an Infp empath in this heartless world..

I can’t change the essence of who I am. I’m a caring, kind and forgiving person. I look for the best in people, I want to believe the best of people. I will go out of my way to help someone. I value these qualities about myself, and I do not want to change them. I just want to get them under control because sometimes they are to the detriment of my own well being.

What I have come to understand in recent times, is how much other people see my kindness as weakness to abuse. Time and time again this proves to be true.

One thing I want and need to work on is the ability to recognise when people are abusing my good nature, and the strength to put myself first and walk away.

The problem is that, even when I know a person is not treating me right, I still feel very bad for them if they get upset when I try and walk away. This is something I must accept about myself, but my brain must learn to overrule my heart.

I do tend to reach a point where I draw the line, but it is usually after being treated like a fool for sometime and forgiving numerous times. I’m not quick to write people off.

But I have my own problems and inner demons that I deal with, and sometimes I could do with someone else being kind, caring and forgiving towards me..

I don’t like selfishness as a character trait.. But I am going to start being selfish and putting my needs first. I’m trying to survive in what to me feels like a hard, cruel and uncaring world. I need to do what I need to do.

I will never stop being kind, but I will stop being taken for a ride. That is all.

The Lines of a tough life

The first time I went to see D at the graveyard, a thin drawn face full of the lines of a tough life came towards me. It was heartbreaking to see him dissolve into tears as he saw me approaching. I remembered back to a young, cheeky chap full of life who seemed to almost live at our house. My parents loved him, especially my dad who exchanged lots of jokes and ‘banter’. Many a tournament on our mini snooker table was had. My brother taught him to play guitar, and few will have picked it up so quickly. Before long he was writing his own songs which I still remember now.

He was always telling us stories that seemed too far fetched to believe.. Some were true, some were not. The one in which he saved a drowning person from the sea proved true when we read about it in the paper. He received a bravery award for that. The one where he was marrying an older woman was also true. We attended a very unusual wedding reception. The marriage lasted two weeks.

My brother and D used to play the occasional gig in a run down pub. I enjoyed watching. I remember his alcoholic father turning up at one of these gigs and yelling out a lot. You see, D was from a difficult background. His mum was abusive and uncaring, dad alcoholic.. And I now know he was being abused by a neighbour. Our house was his escape, and we were delighted to have his company.

At some point D introduced my bro to another guitar playing, song writing friend. My brother hit it off with him (B) and as time went on, a disagreement between D and B meant my brother had to choose between them and B was chosen. He and D drifted apart.. D became a life guard but at about that time was also becoming addicted to heroin.

A combination of his girlfriend and sister introduced him to this delightful life destroying habit. I might add that his sister is now dead as a result.

I can’t speak of what has happened in the interim years.. I wasn’t in his life other than some contact on Facebook. But I know he completed rehab and got clean. I bought him a guitar a few years ago as I could see he was struggling and I wanted to reignite his gift of songwriting. He was delighted, but he doesn’t have that guitar now.

I was in Malta when I saw on fb that he was homeless. I contacted him straight away and arranged to go and see him as soon as I got back to the UK. He told me he had gone on prescription methadone because he was afraid he would relapse.

So, I arrived at the graveyard in which his tent was hidden. His beautiful dog S was the first to greet me.. And then I saw D standing there dissolving into tears at the sight of me. All I could do was hug him. That was all I could do.

I took him to meet my brother for a drink and then home for a shower and to catch up with my parents. I bought him food and then had to take him back to his graveyard. It broke my heart to leave them there. But my parents were not happy to have him staying in our house at such a difficult time.. And they were sure that if he stayed one night he would want to stay more and more. My decision would have been different, but it’s not my house.

There are a few things I find incredible about his situation.
1. He ended up in a graveyard out of town from just walking and hoping to find somewhere to hide his tent. By incredible chance, a friend from his old aikido classes lives directly across the road, a stones throw from his tent. So he has been able to pop in and get support from her.
2. His tent was visible from the path, but he was not asked to move.
3. He happened to meet the lady who lives in the cottage at the edge of the graveyard, and she has let him move his tent into her garden and use her shed with electrics.

I feel like someone is watching over him. He says his faith in humanity has been restored.

I’ve visited him a number of times, and I’ve been trying hard to help him raise funds and fund a room to rent. We went to see a room last night which he loved.. But we have to wait to hear. Fingers crossed please..

In just two months..

It has been an eventful two months..

From someone getting back in touch and me being delighted to hear from them.. To them promising they’d never just cut me off and hurt me again.. To them cutting me off and hurting me again two weeks later.. To me going to Malta with a friend I didn’t know well.. To discovering we weren’t suited as friends.. To an extremely awkward flight home avoiding each other during which I discovered a strength I didn’t know I had.. To meeting lots of new people.. To becoming a year older.. To my mum having regular attacks from her hernia, being in pain and vomiting.. To scaffolding, men and chaos all around as roofers bang and crash from early in the morning.. To helping a friend clear her flat of rancid rubbish.. To starting counselling.. To discovering my brothers best friend from school and his beautiful dog had become homeless.. To the last two weeks trekking to and from a graveyard where he had a tent hidden.. Supporting him as much as I could, mostly letting him know he is not alone, bringing him home for showers and food.. To me now being ill with a chest infection.

The picture is the homeless doggy.. Gorgeous