DENIED HELP

 A man calls in to work, and says he can't come in because he's sick. His boss says "Really? How sick are you?"

The man says "You tell me, I've just fucked my retarded daughter."

I'm telling you this joke because I received a letter on Saturday afternoon that took the wind right out of my sails. I was in good spirits on Saturday morning, feeling relatively healthy having overcome a small medical malady on Thursday and having a fantastically dirty time on r/dirtypenpals. That all changed when I got a letter from the local mental health team that left me wondering how sick I needed to be.

The letter essentially is letting me know that they're not interested in helping me, despite all the pro-active ideas they had in the room when they saw me. It literally says "As your current issues with your mental health are based very much on your situation, we are unable to provide any support until you have made steps towards changing your situation. We feel that at this time your needs are most appropriately met by weight management services and we would encourage you to work with them towards discharge from [your care home] and getting back into your own property. At this point if you are still struggling with your mental health, you can be re-referred back into mental health services."

It's a lot like having a lawyer tell you that they'll represent you once you've sorted out that bother with the local constabulary, or a mechanic telling you they'll service your car once you've figured out why it's leaking oil. I obviously am trying to improve my situation, I've made a real commitment to eating better over the past couple of months, have cut out all drinks other than sparkling water and only eat relatively healthy snacks in addition to the meals provided for me. There's only ever a choice between two meals, and those choices aren't always great, or even very different. A sandwich is always one dinner option, the other is often very sandwichesque, e.g. a bacon roll, a burger, a hot dog or poached eggs on toast. All great options, but I can't realistically expect them to venture too far away from their comfort level. So I feel like I'm doing what I can, and I'm convinced I must be losing weight, though I can't tell for sure because nobody has weighed me since I got here. It's very frustrating.

I've also had mental health issues in the past, I made one serious attempt to shuffle off this mortal coil when I was still walking unaided, back when becoming street homeless looked like a very real possibility. I saw someone from mental health a little after that, but they never contacted me again, maybe losing me when I switched to sheltered accommodation in a different town. If you've read much about my past on this blog then you are probably aware that my head is like a fucking haunted house, my mental health is not tied to my situation, though my situation is obviously a factor, hence me asking for help!

Luckily, the nurse on the evening shift used to work with the local mental health team, so when I showed him the letter he said it was a load of crap, and offered no support other than saying there are self-help guides on the MIND website. I pointed out they hadn't even spelt that right. He said that at the very least they should have signed it and included a copy of my assessment. I'm now fairly confident that I'll at least get a second chance.

I might have painted too happy a portrait, as I was just feeling the benefits of the drugs working their magic, had shed some emotional baggage that had weighed me down for years, and started an insane correspondence with a naughty Canadian switch that I'd been lusting over for about seven years. Maybe they should have come yesterday, when I slept pretty much from 9.30am to 7.00 this morning after spending Saturday night awake. They literally woke me up for all my meals and tablets, and I don't recall them checking on me in the night. They've taken a lot from me.

Today was better, though the staff are more chaotic than usual and there were a few things that happened that shouldn't have, and that did happen that shouldn't. I still haven't spoken to the house manager as she has the week off on holiday, so I'm hoping to speak to the head of the care team tomorrow (she has Monday's off). My parents came to visit and we played a cooperative card game called Ravine for the first time. We had a lot of fun and best the game, though we had a few easy rounds to begin  with as my mum hadn't shuffled all the cards into one deck, and we all rolled very high starting health. It's a fun strategy game with simple mechanics and we all look forward to playing it again, which is something!

I know how you feel, plane!

The rest of my time I've spent watching Alan Bennett's Talking Heads. The BBC filmed twelve episodes during lockdown; they're perfect for social distancing as each 45-ish minute episode focuses on one actor, an who gives a series of five or six monologues. I had heard of Bennett and knew he wrote lengthy monologues with a lot of North-of-England specifics, and in my head he was like Garrison Keillor or Pam Ayres, two artists for which I have little time. I thought I'd watch the first episode based on the list of talented actors that had signed on to the project, and I'm glad I did. I was delighted to find that Bennett is much more like David Lynch or Chuck Palahniuk, using the comforting and the familiar to trick you into gazing at society's seedy underbelly. These may look like normal, working class folk but they have dark stories to tell, dealing with topics like murder, paedophilia and incest. They've wonderfully human and not kitsch at all.

Not much more to say on the Reddit front, I've largely stayed off it except for giving it a glance before writing this. I've been chatting to a "reverse sissy" sporadically for the last couple of hours, a 22 year old college girl who wants to be humiliated by being treated like a man. I've told her she should switch her pink top and comfy sweats for jeans, a white tee and a flannel, and that she should use her wand less and her fingers more. I've also suggested a double ended dildo, so she can service one end with the other inside her. I'm going to suggest she stop shaving and showering if she's really serious, and I'm going to get her to jack it to Maxim, FHM, and old beer ads. Any suggestions on how to corrupt her tiny mind would likely be actioned if she keeps up the chat!

Talking of young minds, I did have a chat that didn't really go anywhere with a 21 year old from New Orleans! I was hoping she'd be Big Easy, but she was more of a Saint! Anyway, she mentioned an app I'd never heard of called Wickr, and I made a dumb joke about Nicolas Cage and bees. Turns out she'd never heard of The Wicker Man or the remake with Cage, which I guess is fair enough because she'd have been six years old when the remake came out! I was nineteen, and definitely aware of the original, and that the remake was widely panned. I felt my age for once!

I haven't met anyone else new, though I haven't tried. I'm still trading messages with Stinky Lips and the more talkative of the two diaper girls, who I shall call Babycakes. The first I treat like a slut and the second I indulge constantly. They both want to make me happy and let me say whatever I like without complaint. It's not a flesh and blood connection, but it's a good second best.

And finally, I had a real life normal woman reach out through a dating app! I've had some interest on Disabled Dating Club, but can't read the messages there without paying a membership fee or one of my admirers paying extra to upgrade to VIP. I might do so if I got more activity, but the women reaching out are older and far away, and I doubt there'll be much connection.

My positive match came from Bumble, the site I thought would be the least fruitful. I got "super swiped" by a mother of three, my age, who lives thirty miles away, in the same town I went to VIth form in. She works as a carer and asked me about my situation, and I asked her where she came from (outside Manchester) and her kids ages (all under five). She seems nice, but chatting with her is hard work with her typing a lot of two word responses. Still, I'm going to keep responding to her anyways, if for no other reason than she's shown impeccable taste!

Peace,

✌