...the martians could land in the carpark and no-one would care.

So today was a game of two halves sort of.  This morning I visited the doctor and explained that I wanted the prolene mesh that the surgeon implanted in me without permission 2 years ago removed. From the word go it caused me more pain than anything else in the surgery. Being a chronic pain patient I basically ignore it (thing is I reckon the pain would be a constant 2-3  peaking to 7 or 8 on a normal persons scale.  For me its another one of the list for when someone asks what hurts. Its less than my hypermobile spiney bits but more than the displaced wrists) but it is always there, Whenever I exercise, or am tired, or, importantly ejaculate.  Last nights solitary soothing exercise one would have thought there was a knife sticking into my gut. I want it out.
So they are referring me back to the Luton and Dunstable, which is a pain because I have never yet managed to get that place to send me an appointment.  They use paper.  You ring them and ask to make an appointment, they say we will send you one.  You say, no, that doesnt work, it never gets here, they say we will send you another.  When you say please just tell me the day/time they act like you are crazy.
I also wanted a rheumie appointment to deal with my shoulders.  and hips.  but mainly shoulders.  The doc said basically there wasnt much a rheumy could do for me so try a physio first (for which you self refer). So I rang them up.
Again with the paper fetish.
Also I was trying to explain to the receptionist that I needed a physio experienced in EDS-HT.  She just latched onto the word Hypermobility and said "yes our senior physios do that all the time"
Well call me Mr Suspitchy Doubttrousers but I think the nuance between hypermobility, the symptom, and Hypermobility Syndrome, the pigfucking hyaenabitch from hell is lost on you.  Well since NHS choices for many years used the terms interchangeably I cannot blame her.  But I suspect that come VE day when I am seeing some jobbing physio nerk that the presence of cluebringer would be greatly appreciated.

So that was part 1

In Part 2 I am applying for jobss.  and hating it.  I am not well enough.  but it is something to do.

...by the blue TV's green light

So sleeping in the arms of zopiclone is having several effects.

Spock is very much more in charge and is doing several things.  He is trying to get me to complete a job application before it closes.  He has updated an OKCupid profile for me.  He took me round hiking shops to look for gear.

As for OKcupid I am basically browsing.  I dont know what I want exactly but I know I can't be alone.  I would prefer to be married but that seems not to be an option.  All of this is at Spock level.

Emo is still sitting in a corner smearing his shit on the wall.  So we can ignore him.

A surprising number of people on OKcupid appear to be prostitutes, or stupid, or both.  Why would I want to date someone in california ffs?

Another unfortunate effect is the return of my libido, which was being a bit suppressed.  Last two mornings you could have hung a flag from it.  Which is just inconvenient.

So Zopiclone lets me pretend theres not a problem.  Until I see my wife, hear a phone ringing, see an email from a friend etc. etc.

Perfect.  problem solved

telephone exchanges click when there's nobody there

Soooo

Last night Mrsinky let a bunch of what-used-to-be-my friends know of our status via the medium of farcebook.  Should say upfront she speaks/farcebooks them more than I do, and so it is natural she should do that.
Of course that triggered phonecalls.  I spent the evening letting all my phones ring and ring.  Its my turn to be hounded by phone.  Only its not the banks wanting money, its my friends wanting to kill me.
Well that's what it feels like.
I now don't want to be at home near the landline because it doesn't display the number.  I might have to talk to one of my friends if I answer it.  I have to be careful opening my computer in case it displays available on Skype because then my friends will try and track me down.  I have to turn off location on my blogging from my phone in case one of them is nearby.
The urge to just disappear, emigrate, walk off bivvieing is so strong.  No people with their incessant demands on me.  No intrusions.  No hounding me with demands for information and emotion. Just silence and loneliness and loss and failure.
I miss oblivion.


I took a zopiclonealike last night.  shrink wrote a prn for a coupla weeks supply.  It worked but it was pushing at an open door, given 3 hrs sleep night before and a week of late sleeping early waking.  Spock has a bit more space today.  but Emo has also been given a new lease of chaos.

this is the worst trip I've ever been on

Well the psychiatrist was...

I want to say as much use as tits on a bull.  She tried to backtrack on the narcissist thing, then tried to correct me on its meaning and I quoted DSM and ID at her.
She wants me to talk to a psychologist.  I have a bad history with psychologists. Generally they hate me and I hate them. But its something to do.
We tried to go through the list of anti depressants.
SSRI's no fucking good
SNRI's remove ability to orgasm so no.
Tricyclics are a bit...killy in overdose
MAOIs are a bit...mad

I keep trying to suggest wellbutrin or ketamine but no go.

So in the end just sleeping pills.  Zopiclone.  hope the habituation has worn off.

I have absolutely no hope of any of this helping.

All I can think of is ending it.

Think I know how a coyote feels When he's howling just to Ease the pain,

In a way I have always been two people. I think it is a science thing.  Let us call them Spock and Emo.
Spock runs my life.  He does not do emotions.  you give him a problem he looks up the most rational solution then serves it up with no value judgements and no pack drill.  problem--> solution.
Emo is normally pushed into a corner.  His responses are emotional and therefore unhelpful.  In any interaction Spock gets first dibs and Emo is only allowed out if time allows.  which it rarely does.
So in a crisis I am quite frequently saying to people "drop the emotion we don't have time for that" and then getting on with it while others are flapping around blaming and crying and stuff.

Even now this is the case.  I keep saying that filling in my diary keeps me alive.  This is because Spock runs the diary.  While he is in charge there aren't any emotions so it is great.  I wish he could run it all the time.  So I need a job, Spock is applying for jobs.  I need some comfort, Spock is browsing dating websites.  I need help with mental health, Spock takes me to the psychiatrist.

The psychiatrist sees this as signs of wanting to move on, signs of belief.

This isn't right.  Spock doesn't believe in anything, he selects the best match from available options. In fact if Spock did believe in anything he would be a total hindrance as a scientist.  I think this mindset is difficult for outsiders to assess.

Emo does not believe that help is there.  He is beyond despair into destructive behaviours.  Accessing Emo results in tears and helplessness and lashing out at walls etc in a pit of pure animal hurt.  Emo is currently like a slug in a box of salt, squirming and dissolving in a world of pain.

Spock is getting desperate.  the problems he is being given are basically "how do i kill myself painlessly" and " how can I get myself locked away" which even Spock can recognise as unhelpful.

So with the psych, like today, when they ask how I am emo comes up and I start crying.  then when they ask what I want from them Spock pops out and answers rationally and in a controlled way.  So I appear to be coping.  Not typicallly depressed.

Actually my trajectory...It is like a chess player trying to play for a stalemate when someone keeps removing his pieces from the board, limiting his options into smaller and smaller pieces of the playing area.

I am currently down to a pawn and a broken horsey.

All I can think about is death.  Emo wants it and its about the only move Spock has left.  This may be adjustment disorder or whatever.  I do not think I can survive it.  The psych keeps talking about accessing the emotional side.  this is the opposite of what I want.  If I could arrange never to access that madness again I would be so much better off.

They mostly come at night...mostly

Suicidal thoughts.

Head full of putting dressing gown chord round neck twisting stick through it.
Or taking screwdrivers to shrinks tomorrow and sticking em in wall socket.
Or parking near Orwell Bridge and bungee jumping with eds collagen style bungee.

If I sleep I really pray that I do not wake.

It comes so slow and it leaves so fast

Well as ever Joan Armatrading had a song for it.

Today helped foal with homework and had her sob over how no one gets her and she cant talk to people.

Went to gym.

Crashed. Mrsinky said she hated to see me so emotional.

Well I just hate to see me.

I was up v late after Ashes place. Huge comedown. Much self revulsion. 4 am with a good deal of gin inside me I slept.

Today was too hard. I can't do this. I can't bear to be alone. I do not know how to communicate with people irl. I think its time for me to give up.

I did alone for many years. Then mrsinky happened and I had a hope of lasting company. Well such things do not happen twice. Statistics can only be stretched so far.

Cost benefit analysis not rosy.

In How to Murder Your Wife Jack Lemmon offers the jury a button to make their wife disappear. If I had a surefire button of painless death right now I would press it so hard my thumb would break.

Is it so much to ask fo, some kind of happiness? What did I do that was so wrong?