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"I'm not a colour therapist, I'm trained in the therapeutic use of colour"

Yes, that's what she said when I went for my social enterprise-booked appointment with a colour therapist (or not, as she seemed to say - presumably to come across more amenably). A colour therapist who was dressed completely in black.

So what is colour therapy and why am I doing it?

CT proper is pseudoscience. It's a 'complementary therapy' (which means it isn't therapy) based on the existence of Chakras, the ancient Indian metaphysical system of bodily energy points. Each has its own colour and so the purpose of CT is to balance and align them. Only problem is that there's no evidence Chakras exist. It's a lovely worldview, but I see nothing that makes it real. Sorry. I can't afford to invest in fictional ideas.

CT as advocated by a colourless, if friendly (and she was, don't misunderstand me), not-a-therapist therapist involves the notion that we respond to colours in the way people respond to horoscopes. They make us feel good (which in reality …
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There may be a ton of other, perhaps even more serious, subjects that do not get discussed. But in my view, and or the purpose of this piece, there aren't many quite as pernicious as being alone. Whether in a crowd (which can sometimes be worse) or genuinely alone.

In fact now that I reflect on this, I'm not entirely sure how to proceed. In so many ways this is something that feels, to me, something that one cannot admit. Whether or not this is a cultural attitude, or an expectation born of gender ("boys don't cry y'all").

The truth is.

Insert enormous pause.

That I am lonely.

It has taken an awful lot of effort to type this, of course that will not come through here.

I am not sure I should be posting this. But if you are reading it then you know that I have and the hell with it.

I have no idea what I want to achieve from this. It is seen as the least attractive thing, it seems to me in our culture, to admit this. In so many ways it is the ultimate sign of we…


Government harassment continues unabated. There's this, apparently.

It is a strategy called, ironically, Improving Lives. It seems to be another effort by, ostensibly, the capitalist class, to prod and poke at the sick. It will, it seems, never end. I don't see any input from those it affects - as per usual. What does that tell us about these people? They can talk about us, over us and speak for us. But not once do they deem it necessary to actual ask us or even listen.
It sets out the steps government will take to transform disability employment over the next decade and progress so far as we build a country fit for the future.  Steps that will of course not include any compulsion to employ people and treat them properly since that would immediately be shouted down as threatening profit. What does a country fit for the future look like? Is it built on the frozen corpses of the homeless, whose number has exploded in recent years? Is it built on the single mothers who starve to f…

So That, Too, Just Happened

And so another DWP letter comes through. Again, I knew it as soon as I saw it from across the floor. I just fucking knew.

So they've given me another appointment, this time a week before Xmas - because nothing says festive spirit like being made to wait in a hostile environment for god knows how long before someone, hopefully qualified, sees you.

Ridiculous. I was told I would get a home visit, but that obviously hasn't happened. I suspect that, if I try and ask for one, they will just say tough shit.

Because that's how it is isn't it. Tough shit if you're struggling. Tough shit if you've already turned up, in good faith doing what was asked of you. Tough shit all round. Now the stress begins again.

This is our world. A system that can't and won't care. If you get screwed up because of some 'adminsistrative error' oh dear how sad. Do was we say and if you can't then tough bloody shit.

Well fuck this. I'm seriously tempted not to go. I ca…

So That Just Happened

Or didn't.

Woke up stressed because I was supposed to be haveing my WCA today.

Yes, you heard that right. Supposed.

So what actually happened: turned up at quarter past nine for a 9:25am appointment. During the subsequent 35 minute wait (because they refuse to book accurate appointments), a guy with crutches has to beg to be seen and not sent away because of some confusion regarding his ability to safely exit the building. Two other people leave for a time because they realise they are going to be waiting for ages.

It's not a happy place. The guy with crutches says his appointment was the same time as mine, so I guess they are double booking people as well. They know how long the appointments take (on balance, of course there are always exceptions), yet they still adopt a completely unworkable structure: without thought for the fact people attending do have problems, particularly with mental health and the stress of appointments and waiting rooms.

So when I'm seen, the ass…

Into the Mirror

So tomorrow morning is my WCA. Needless to say I am not looking forward to it, and that would be an understatement. It's currently sitting in my mind, refusing to leave, cooking up a stultifying negativity. That's the thing with depression; it's a presence that, even if you manage to distract yourself for a time, it returns with hammer-like vengeance. That feeling alone is enough to make the problem of depression the horrible reality it is. Sucker punched by your own thoughts.

Logically - as if we live in a logical society - I should pass. My situation is unchanged from last year. However that is exactly why I won't pass. You might think it reasonable to simply report that fact, but the simplicity of doing so, the ease of process, is exactly why you can't. Instead I will be seen, likely by someone different, and asked the same questions; some of which will not be relevant but part of the deceptive nature of the process. For example, being asked 'how did you get…

That Word That Begins With S

This isn't an easy topic, and so given the nature I'm giving a trigger warning for discussing suicide. It is not my intention to make people uncomfortable, god knows there's enough of that in the world already; but I'm not one of these right wing blowhards who thinks 'triggering' people is funny either. Please be careful.
Essentially what I want to say is as follows, and it is not based on direct experience. It comes from what I have observed about how mental health support works in this country, plus the role of the police in dealing with the collapse of support structures.
It seems to me that, if you present with what I believe is termed 'suicidal ideation' then you run the risk of having your problems ignored in favour of preventing harm - ostensibly to yourself. Conventional wisdom posits this is a favourable outcome - generally speaking we don't want people doing themselves in. But in the context of an authoritarian society that thinks it knows…