MY LIFE AS A BASKET CASE; MENTAL ILLNESS & THE WORST THING I EVER DID

I've been putting this off all week. Well, to be honest, I've been putting this off since I've started writing this blog. I've been treating this blog a little bit like a therapist; I just unload whatever I'm thinking and try and get things clear in my head. I'm not spiritual, I don't believe there's a will to the universe, or genuine karma, balance or justice. That said, we're all the stars of our own little stories, and from our perspective the events we experience are all connected purely because they all happened to us. So whenever life deals me a bad hand, and I crash the company van, or get taken to hospital with swollen, infected legs, or wake up to find ants crawling over me, there's always a voice in my head going "Well, there was that one time you fucked your entire life up. Maybe you deserve this."

Now that I've written this fucking thing, it occurs to me that people I like read this blog, and that friends I make in the future may read this too. I hope that the actions I write about here don't literally repulse you away from me, and that you can appreciate I am a different person now than I was over a decade ago. Maybe don't read this if you don't want to see me at my worst!

Before I get to that, I owe my friend Julie an apology. I didn't proof read my last post before submitting it and did not express myself as well as I am able. The story I last posted was the first one I ever wrote specifically for her, not intended as a comment to her blog. I talk to Julie and about Julie in a manner unique to her; it took a little pushing by her to get me comfortable referring to her using language that is derogatory or misogynist. It's language Julie uses to describe herself; I recall her referring to herself as "Queen Slut" in the comments of a recent post. Obviously language is a tricky thing and intent is everything; if a third party seriously called her that I would be most unhappy. If her husband called her that whilst she was blowing him I'd be most entertained.

Communicating with and about Julie is tricky; I know if I write about her here she'll read it, but this is essentially a public place. Writing on her comments page can be tricky; Julie almost responds to comments as if she is two different characters, with Strict Julie responding to comments on posts where she's mainly a domme, and Sub Julie responding to comments where she's mostly a femsub. Obviously there's a little blurring of the lines, but she'll let readers get away with more on comments to some posts than on others. Plus she can be very coarse and derogatory in the way she describes herself; it's something that Miss Chris picked her up on when visiting for the first time. Of course, she obviously has a role to fulfil herself. Obviously e-mailing Julie directly is when I can be the most honest or the most fake, writing something that will titillate her without worrying about how a third party will react. There are other times when I'll start to write her an e-mail but realise she'll get more of a kick discovering my words here and wondering who else has read them, or in the comments of her blog where her fans will appreciate them and join in the fun. It can be a little complicated!

In my last post I listed a bunch of terms I've used to excite her since she's given me the go ahead to talk dirty. I wasn't trying to offend, but when she quoted my own words back to me it's clear that listing such harsh, derogatory terms without context was an unkind thing to do. Furthermore, I realised my words could be interpreted to mean that I no longer care for her, which I hope is self-evidently untrue. I care for her a great deal. I just know she'd rather be shamed and humiliated a little rather than being treated like she might break. I sincerely apologise.

RIP D OF E, BUT WHAT'S IT GOT TO DO WITH ME? PART TWO

Hey there! Regular Functionistas will know that I don’t really make an effort to maintain relationships. My life can be pretty much divided into a series of chapters, and as I move from one stage to the next I pretty much refrain from looking back. I don’t know what happened to anyone I talk about in today’s post after I turned nineteen; I saw some of the guys at a house party/sleepover thrown by another friend during the holidays of my first year of university. I hope they’re all doing well and that life hasn’t been too hard on them.

That being said, after writing yesterday’s post I got to thinking about the worst kids from my Scout troop. I can’t remember the surname of the marine so can’t look up his son. I do remember the name of the cub leader’s son; and was not surprised to learn he’s been given at least four jail sentences, maybe more. He’s been found guilty of drug dealing, robbery, assault, criminal damage and behaving in a racially motivated manner. I was surprised to read his older brother, also in my scout troop and one of the nicer ones, was also sentenced to prison. This was a couple of years ago, he was the same age as I am now. His story sounds weirdly similar to mine, except he was addicted to drugs rather than suffering a physical ailment.

It sounds like he screwed up bad at some point but was given a second chance, working a respectable job for a celebrity chef, but when he was sentenced it said he had no fixed abode, like me, that he’d committed a number of petty thefts, like me, and that he stole mainly from the Co-op, like me! The main difference was that he’s been seen in court more than fifty times and that he was found guilty and sentenced.

This maybe lets you know the sort of shit I was used to dealing with at secondary school and in my extra curricular activities. There really wasn’t anywhere for kids to hang out and be kids - no cinema, skate park, fast food outlets, shopping centre… anywhere normal teens go to socialise. When I started travelling to VIth form I originally kept myself to myself, spending free time in the excellent library. It didn’t take long before I started making friends in class and then being invited to go hang out at the bowling alley, the shops or the local park. It was genuinely a nice surprise to find that I liked just about everyone I met at VIth form and was well liked in return. This was true in my various classes and at DofE, where I didn’t know anyone but found myself in a group of five, ready to fulfil the Expedition requirements of the Gold award.

There was me, Joey, Johnno, Trudge and Bowser. Joey was a farmer’s son. He was originally from out of county but spoke with a broad local accent. The last time I saw him was at that house party; his presence there was awkward as he had lost his job when his employers found images of underage girls on his laptop. He said he was innocent but restored the computer to factory settings and wrote over the hard drive before handing it back. Johnno went to a local secondary school and was pretty popular outside the club, he had a really easy going nature that made him easy to get along with. Trudge was a year older than us and had a mischievous streak; like me he made a lot of jokes and knew just how far to take things without getting into trouble. He flirted a lot with one of the supervisors; a girl named Jess that could only have been a couple of years older than us. Finally there was Bowser, another local boy I’ve mentioned before. He went do a different local school than Johnno and did know plenty of people there, but we had to form groups between four and seven people and people who knew him better than us knew not to take him! He was a nice kid but awkward; he always looked kind of greasy and wore an Iron Maiden t-shirt and a leather jacket. He was too earnest for his own good and made a lot of bold declarations, two qualities sure to make you the butt of the joke when you’re dealing with bored teenage boys. I remember when Pope John-Paul II died Bowser said that John-Paul was one of the most common names for a pope. My friend Squelch immediately pointed out he was only the second one.

MY LIFE AS A WASTREL, PART 3 - MY OVERDOSE AND MY SALVATION

If you read my last two posts you'll know how I came to be squatting in a flat and barely holding down a job. I had some money coming in via benefits but not enough to pay my rent or to live off of. It was clearly an untenable situation. This is how I overcame those circumstances, but things got a lot worse before they got better. I'm not a fan of the phrase "trigger warning," but I will let you know that I will soon be talking frankly about how I tried to kill myself. If that's going to bother you, maybe skip this post! My next one will be a lot more light hearted, I promise you!

Keep your arms inside the boat, there are rough waters ahead!

I had no idea how I was going to survive and had basically given up on looking after myself or the flat. It was ludicrous. When I decided not to give any more money to my landlord I suddenly had a lot more money to spend on alcohol. My drink of choice was co-op own brand vodka; as a member I got 5% of the cost of own brand products credited to my account, so for every twenty bottles I drank I got one free! My work was meaning less to me, and when they finally got around to refurbishing they installed wet-cleaning machines instead of a dry-cleaning one, meaning my experience and expertise now counted for fuck all. I had no home, no value, no future. I couldn't see a reason to keep my life.

My only concern was my parents; obviously they would be upset. I didn't want to kill myself too close to either of their birthdays, or my brother's. Similarly, I had to avoid Mother's Day, Father's Day and, because of the year, the football World Cup. I didn't want any of those events to be linked with my death. I settled for a date in May, and for a free weeks I lived like nothing mattered. This is when I started shoplifting and stealing from work. I took out multiple payday loans I had no intention of paying back. I might have had another credit card as well? I drank like it was my job, and would call in sick to my actual job when I just couldn't be bothered with it.

A LOT CAN CHANGE IN AN HOUR: PART ONE

This is going to sound super melodramatic, but on the family Zoom call on the Friday of last week I received two pieces of information that allowed me to drop some emotional baggage that I've been holding on to for many years.

The first piece of information I've already shared: My brother Jason got engaged to Amy, his girlfriend of four years. This news is good for me because I know my brother blames me for his last engagement falling through. I know this because he shouted it at me through a haze of catatonia. He's not wrong.