Tuesday 28th August 2018 - Waiting Room

[Retrospectively written - copied from handwritten diary]

Sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's surgery, the most appropriately named room in history; the wait is interminable. I wouldn't mind so much if it was a quiet and peaceful place but the..........[interrupted train of thought as I'm called to my appointment. ON TIME!! I'm sure it's never happened before].......constant chatter at reception, the harsh creak of distant doors, the old lady who wants the world to know her life story by way of uninterrupted reminiscences that surely denote a constant preoccupation with the past and the inane tripe uttered by the DJ introducing this season's latest banal , manufactured tripe with unfettered enthusiasm, the like of which is normally reserved for shopping channel hosts. I will try to read but with the mind working overtime on all the distractions I find myself at the end of a paragraph with no recollection of it's substance. A further skim read normally commits the words to memory but makes progress painfully and irritably slow, thus taking away the enjoyment.

The weather's moody today, being on the cusp of Autumn as we are. Consequently, the headaches are starting again so not too many words on paper today.

I'm now sitting in the car with a grass-covered dune for a view. I don't think I'll venture down to the beach today.

Friday 24th August - Jellyfish

[Retrospectively written - copied from handwritten diary]

Went to the men's group on Monday. The 'Group' consisted of Mark the facilitator, Kevin and myself. Both Kevin and myself were first-timers so, in our absence, Mark would have spent 2 hours talking to himself.

We drank coffee and talked about random shit the whole time. So, naturally I was fidgety at times, not being one for small talk. I consider it a waste of time unless accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol (I'm practically teetotal these days) or other brain bending drugs. Still, it got me out of the house and interacting with other members of the human race. Don't know what Kevin's story was, nor he mine but as he was of similar age to me and reliant on a walking stick one can hypothesise that nature's spite or an accident have brought physical impediments that vex his mind.

There was mention of an organised fishing trip in the future, subject to interest and of guests attending the sessions to talk on various topics. I'll probably give it another go next month but wouldn't be at all surprised if I were the only attendee.

Whilst there I saw and spoke to Scotty, an acquaintance of mine and friend of Dianne's and introduced myself to Pinky. Dianne had described him as having a penchant for pink but "he's not gay" as if it mattered. I can concur with both statements. Turns out his real name is Dave, he's there every day, carves wood on Tuesdays and would be celebrating his birthday yesterday.

On Wednesday I discovered through a misdialled call from Scotty's partner that she'd managed to impale herself on barbed wire Tuesday night and ended up under the surgeon's knife to clean out some debris from the deep abdominal wound she'd sustained. She was back home yesterday, so Dianne visited with some of her favourite salmon pate and crusty bread.

As I had a couple of Ebay sales to mail, I ventured out this morning and made the customary trip to the beach. I wasn't there long as I couldn't be sure of the whereabouts of my mobile phone and it was causing me some unwarranted angst. It was either left at the Post Office or at home, either way in safe keeping. I walked fairly briskly one and a half breakers along the shore, finding a few interesting pebbles along the way and spotted a marooned jellyfish on the shingle bank. Another was found on my last visit. Until this week I don't recall ever seeing one at Caister. I imagine that this uncommonly warm summer we're having has raised sea temperatures sufficiently for them to migrate further North than is usual. I recollect as a child in 1977 (I think that was the heatwave summer and Elvis's last) swimming in the sea at Hunstanton and the waters were full of them.

On the way back to the car I managed to collect a couple of small pieces of driftwood that Dianne had requested for some kind of sea-art project she means to undertake. It also involves shells, twine and stones apparently. The mind boggles!

Been feeling quite off colour all week. I think a virus took hold last Saturday when my whole body felt tired and achy. These symptoms persisted for a couple of days and a bloodshot eye developed. The weeping eye remains and today I have the symptoms of a head cold with sneezing, a runny snout and that clawing irritation you get at the back of the nasal passage that extends down into the throat. Hate summer colds. Particularly this year as the glorious weather is just beginning to become unsettled, signalling it's intent to draw the curtain on the warm season and usher in Autumn. Want to enjoy what's left of it, please!

It's been a frustrating week generally. I don't feel as if I've moved forward at all and I'm probably correct. Looking at the positives, I suppose I've had some social interaction, added a few necklaces to Etsy, made contact with the Principal at First Move Furnishaid with a view to volunteering and....and....Oh! domestic relations have improved slightly and I've sent off a self-referral application to MIND that arrived in the mail a couple of days ago.

I know there was more to put down here but my mind has misplaced it for the time being. I'm sure when I was young I had total recall of events and thoughts which could be dragged out when needed. These days memory seems to be a skeleton of ideas and happenings, left thus to be filled with reasonable logic or guesswork. Or, maybe it's the conscious becoming tired and lazy and leaving all the hard work to the sub-conscious. [not sure this makes sense to me now]. My conscious would like to know the answer to this but the research would be a bit of a brainache and it really can't be bothered.

I ought to be writing this on my blog but I still prefer pen and paper. Perhaps I'll write the blog retrospectively.  If you're reading this online, the decision was made and acted upon.

Monday 20th August 2018 - Self Loathing

[Retrospectively written - copied from handwritten diary]

Here we are at the start of another 'working' week.

Dianne rose early today (for her) at 7:10am; a time I dread. I like to have some personal time at the start of the day to organise my thoughts, in the same way I like some end of day time to relax.

The first thing that happens is the TV goes on for at least half an hour and I'm inflicted with garbage for the illijterate masses; either This Morning or a soap catch-up. How can anyone concentrate or relax with all those shouty people talking shit in your living room.

The shouting from the box is intermittently interrupted by the first frets of the day; "I hate flies. Why are they always around when you don't want them?"; "I had to pick a dead wasp up from the kitchen floor. Will they come back again next year?"; "Is it going to rain today?", like I'd know; "What's on your list?", meaning how are YOU going to bring some money into the house. Never have I heard her say that she has an idea for something that she could do to bring in some extra income.

Apparently, she's not going out today as she's "got jobs to do around the house". For the past week she's been 'tidying' her bedroom. You ought to see the results!

At the weekend, both Friday and Saturday, I tried to get intimate with her but was rebuffed on both occasions. No reson was forthcoming, though on Saturday I suspect the imminent TV event she'd mentioned on several occasions during the day was more important. Probably explains my bad mood. [I haven't tried since]

Our relationship isn't working. I feel so very lonely. Della didn't visit yesterday and I miss her and the respite the visits provide.

There's a once-a-month men's group meeting run by MIND at Wild Haven today and I'm thinking of giving it a go. I can only countenance the negatives sitting here; it will be a bunch of 'loonies'; I won't have anything to contribute; advice will be as useful as teaching your grandmother to suck eggs. I subscribe to the theory that you are who you associate with and I can't help but think that association with other melancholic individuals can only be detrimental. It certainly hasn't done Dianne any good these past few years.

Give me a cause to fight for, something useful and meaningful to do with my time, a reason to live for fuck's sake. How have I managed to waste 53 years of my life without a plan or a vision or the mental fortitude to push forward and achieve something? My frustration with myself is wholly justified and pretty overwhelming at times.

Fuck it! Think I'll give this group a try. You never know, do you!?

Sunday 19th August 2018 - The Meaning of Life

[Retrospectively written - copied from handwritten diary]

It always surprises me how much deep thought runs through my mind that I decide can wait until I put pen to paper.

Then, I sit here amongst the breaker rocks on Caister beach on an overcast but warm Sunday molrning and it's all gone. Not forgotten, just temporarily misplaced and waiting to be taken out again like a dust-covered book on a shelf. This should be reason enough to commit thoughts to the page in a more timely manner.

I'm sure I've mentioned before how disillusioned I have become with life in general. Whilst this has always been the case to some extent, I feel it's manifestation now informs everything I think and do. I know that my life has to be different to have any meaning or purpose and to expereience contentment, if not happiness...............

I just broke off writing for about half an hour. The normally slow ebb and flow of the tide had been taken over by a sense of urgency (maybe on account of the strong wind) and the shoreline laps that were 10 yards away when I began jotting were nearing my feet. Whilst I wasn't immediately in danger of an unwanted salt bath, the distraction was sufficient to cause me to move.

Thus, I proceeded along the shoreline for, perhaps, another 100 yards but unusually the sense of despair, frustration, restlessness and foreboding that normally dissipates on a beachcombing trip remained. A wander higher up the beach and a trudge back to the car through clawingly soft sand followed. The search for driftwood and flat stones to carve took me pakst numerous sand hills and circles of nondescript stones left behind by holidaymakers.

The random distribution of small, burnt timbers that are found in some abundance always surprises but probably shouldn't. Presumably, the washed-up remains of reclaimed beach fires. I romanticise about them being the remains of sea-borne funeral pyres, if romanticise is the right word...............

Anyhow, back to the theme I started with. The loss of control, privacy and self-determination in my life is increasingly difficult to deal with. Whilst I can declare that suicide is not the only option under consideration I'm finding homelife more claustraphobic by the day and am beginning to ponder life as a single man again. Whether that involves intentional community living, a home in the woods, roaming the country in an old Transit or some as yet unconsidered option I really have no idea. If I could convince Dianne of the merits of I.C.L. that would still be my preferred option but it appears to be the least likely outcome.

Yesterday, I presented myself at my first craft fayre. The compliments and words of encouragement were welcome and convince me of the merits of pursuing mixed media and jewellery making further. The hard work of the pakst few weeks was made particularly worthwhile by one patron's genuine surprise that such a professional looking stall was a first visit to a fayre.

Having just proof read today's musings I must confess to some disappointment at the brevity of it all. Three pages of an A5 notebook don't seem to amount to much and leave me well short of the stream of consciousness writing that I would hope to achieve in the long run. More practise needed!

I think maybe I should get back to writing my blog. A reader or two might help with another of my dreads, dying in anonymity. This is a strange thing to fear for a private, introverted individual but perhaps ties in with the desire to lead a more purposeful and meaningful existence. I don't know!?

Wednesday June 20th - Medication

[Retrospectively written - copied from handwritten diary]

Yesterday, I skipped the Sertraline on the basis that I can't pay for the prescription. They also don't appear to help much, I'm concerned about negative side-effects (Why?) and I'm struggling to function on a daily basis with them. I also received a call from the doctor's surgery telling me there was a prescription for Folic Acid waiting to be collected. No indication as to why this has been prescribed!

Yesterday was a better day overall. Dianne had a friend and her husband from Colorado visit in the afternoon so I hid away in the workshop, made some progress on the picture frame I'm upcycling and prepared a few price and attribtion labels for my completed mixed media projects.

Today, however, I'm back to feeling totally exhausted and helpless. In the mail was a letter from the surgery stating that I'd been referred to Urology. Dianne made me open it in front of her. We both hoped it was a follow-up from Wellbeing services but after 4 weeks, still nothing. Told Dianne that it was a general appointment confirmation letter with the G.P. (don't want her to worry or pester me). There was also another questionnaire from the E.S.A. people. I say questionnllaire but it's more like War and Peace. The Department for Work & Pensions could never be accused of brevity!

Made an Ebay sale and have boxed the locomoltive ready for dispatch but the thought of going to the Post Office fills me with dread after Monday's embarrassment. Expect I'll manage to get there somehow, though.

Dianne's just gone out but felt the need to ask me if I was going to be alright. She's obviously concerned and I must be making a bad job of hiding my mood now.

Late on Monday, I received a reply from the Old Hall Community in Constable country, near Colchester. They would welcome a visit from me/us on a convenient date. Some weeks ago I spoke to Dianne about the appeal I felt for 'intentional community living'. She wasn't keen then and I don't suppose she is now. I'd dearly love to organise something but I think it's a non-starter.

So, here I sit in the workshop pondering how someone with such a high I.Q. could finish up in such a predicament. I never fail to be frustrated, angry and disappointed with myself.

My sole lachievement in life has been to raise 2 children to adulthood in a safe environment with honesty, openness and a commitment to self-expression. They've turned out OK but at the expense of me kicking the financial ball further and further down the road to the point where it's rolling over the horizon.

At this point I'd like to return to the topic of intentional community living. I have long been disillusioned kwith modern life in general. Everything from celebrity culture, selfishness, greed, consumerism, 24-7 marketings, media propaganda and the corporate takeover of everything to environmental destruction, lying politicians, the business of war and narrow-mindedness. Whilst I.C.L. draws people in from varied backgrounds and belief systems , the important core values of working for the common good, preserving the environment, simplified living and respect for one another trump all the other bullcrap in life.

Dianne just returned from a fruitless trip to Citizens Advice with the grill missing from the front of the car. Apparently, she "heard something" but "didn't think much of it" and a search proved fruitless. What can I say; not even "never mind I'll order a new one". Good grief!!

To complete my self-assessment, I'm O.C.D. when it comes to organising and planning, have no respect for 'authority', resent being instructed unless I've asked for it and deplore a society that signs me up for citizenship as a newborn, then demands a code of behaviour and money from me but neglects me in my hour of need. Citizenship should be an option at one's coming of age, not a mechanism for a lifetime of conformity and slavery. Then, perhaps, the political class would work for the people, providing care and incentivisation, rather than selling themselves to the highest bidder.

This has always made me feel like an outsider looking in rather than a part of a dynamic organism. Life is too irrational, illogical, unreasonable and frustratiing. Or, maybe I'm just insane!?

June 18th 2018 A Low Point

[Retrospectively written - copied from handwritten diary]

The day started badly with a feeling of extreme exhaustion.

Every day starts exhausted but it's worse today. Though I tries to settle down for the night at around 11pm and woke at 00:20, 04:10 and for the final time at 07:15 this is a 'normal' sleep pattern, despite the nightly sleeping tablet. I put it down to the visit of my daughter yesterday, a very welcome visitor but always tiring.

I've been fretting over the weekend about today's visit to the doctor and anokther blood test. My kidneys ached on Saturday and I passed blood. My online research had indicated a worse-case scenario of bladder cancer (because of a previous episode a few weeks ago) or a best case of kidney stones. Either way it seemed inevitable that a referral to Urology would be forthcoming and this would mean invasive, uncomfortable and embarrassing tests.

Sure enough, having had a urine test a couple of weeks ago that was positive for elevated blood presence, she has referred me. I left another sample. Why she has not conlsidered the rare but known side-effect of haematuria for takers of Sertraline I have no idea.

Following the appointment I went to the Post Office for an overseas mailing, a bottle of milkand some tobacco. The debit card was declined for insufficient funds. Now what????

Straight to the beach I gandered to contemplate my options but the sun and heat proved too intense so I returned home.

I rang the doctors to book the appointment I should have made on the way out earlier and then Jobcentre Plus to find out the the results of my health assessment 5 weeks ago. I was told that this had resulted in a decision in my favour on June 7th but no benefit would be paid due to inadequate N.I. Contributions. Today just keeeps getting better!

My thoughts have returned to suicide and the methods I can face. A week's worth of Sertraline and sleepers might work but clinical intervention to treat the effects is likely to be sucessful. I'm now considering pitching a tent somewhere remote, without food or water and just letting nature take it's course.

Tuesday 30th January 2018 - Direction

The intent of this blog was to write about what I know about.

Since what I know most about is me, I had thought that it might become a diary or some kind of living biography. I'd probably pass comment on the weather & the day's propaganda feeds as well as my daily routine.

However, it seems to be going off at a tangent at present. My renewed enthusiasm for writing, as a distraction, has turned it into something of a scrapbook of randomness recently. Writing for the sake of writing? Yes. Why not? Site hits for my 'Inspiration' related musings are exponentially greater than those relating to my trials and tribulations. I guess we've all got our own issues, without burdening ourselves with those of strangers.

So, this blog needs to find some sense of direction and I'm unsure what that should be for now. As I remain unclear as to where I go personally in life. If I was merely undecided on these matters it would be a simple question of choice. Life's too bloody complicated!

Anyway, a bit of diary just for the record.

I've been prescribed Zopiclone & Sertraline. Three days in and the Zopiclone is working like a charm - wide awake at 03:45 this morning!!

It's not all negative, though. In many ways 3 to 4 a.m. is the day's happy hour. With such little human activity at this time, the peace and quiet has a meditative quality that provides space for uninterrupted thought. I enjoy writing at this hour, which is just as well since most other activity risks disturbing the rest of the household.

A timely, generous and selfless act from a close relative at the weekend has lifted the severe financial pressure on us. I sincerely hope the immense gratitude is apparent to them and that I prove worthy of the 'investment'.

Desperately tired and restless now. A combination of stress, insomnia, last week's event and the new drug regime I suppose. Not to mention all the personal attention being lavished, which I'm unaccustomed to! A couple of good nights sleep would be more than welcome and I'm pretty sure increase my positivity no end.

As always, any comment is appreciated. Particularly if you have any sense of the direction this blog or my life should be taking!