Skip to main content

Experience

This morning, on my way to the butchers, I took the long way as it's a nice day. 

Don't really enjoy feeling ill though. It's hard to accurately describe the weird hypoglcyemic/metabolic problem that I have, but I know when it happens, and it did then, as bad as any other. I suspect that whatever mental health issues I have, as yet still undiagnosed, they play a part in creating some unholy bizarre synergy.

Consequently it's like experiencing a kind of sensory pressure. Stimulus becomes intense, noise merges into one monotonous experience that threatens to overwhelm while the already bright summer sun threatens to take me out of my skull. All the while I'm walking and my legs, which occasionally are feeling a little wobbly, feel like they are walking a treadmill; as if I'm being walked, not that I'm walking. In a weird way I feel that, if I stop, I'll collapse.

My thinking goes into overdrive and I'm drawn inward, my heart quickens as does my breathing in a stress response type scenario. So introspective do I become that I experience a form of tunnel vision. Occasionally I lose myself in this not particularly pleasant experience before catching awareness of the fact where my head feels like it is about to turn upside down. It's an unsettling sensation; a feeling of complete discombobulation where you catch yourself 'phasing out'. I have had this labelled 'de realisation', but, as with all these issues, I am no expert and no expert seems keen to lend a diagnosis or explanation.

I make it to the shop, which, fortunately, is empty, and I get what I need. I wanted to go to the Post Office, but the queue was such I would have struggled considerably (we will never know). I manage to assuage some of the feelings with a scotch egg. It's not ideal and these experiences are not marked by traditional hunger pangs, but with a rising sense of physical urgency as described that culminate in a need to eat. Were I to deny myself food I dread to think what would happen and consequently I have never sought to put that to the test. I don't think such speculation helpful, in fact I do not care to see people play games with their health. There really are people for home starvation is an issue; this is not a subject for navel gazing or masochism. 

It takes a good hour or so, and a sandwich as well, for my body to calm down. After which I feel pleasantly tired. This is how it always works. I do not know what causes this or why. It is simply how my body functions (or doesn't). I do not post this to compete for the sympathy of those kind enough to give me the time of day. I don't do it to compare myself to others who may have greater needs and problems. In fact I post precisely to make that point; we are all different and what effects each of us might not bother the rest. Life isn't uniform and the biology of the human body is fragile.

But the main reason I post this is because it struck me that my experience, intense as it was for me, is mine alone. I cannot persuade the Tories and the DWP and the Duncan Smiths of the world of my experience. They would not even address that experience as presented; their prejudices and assumptions would prevent them from taking me at my word.

It is a curious and unsettling fact to know that I live in a society where, as intense and uncomfortable my experience was, to others it is nothing, because that society is conditioned not to take me at my word.

...

In other, and sadder news, the passing of a legend. The masterful and creative and intelligent god of thunder, Chris Squire, bassist and singer for Yes, has passed away. Gone but never forgotten. A true inspiration.

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I Fucking Hate the Work Programme

That did not go well.
My legs were wobbly to begin with as I closed in on the church that passes for the office of the employment wing of the Salvation Army. My appointment was 3 to half past. I really did feel sick. Pretty early on, when he asked for the forms he gave me last time to fill in, I knew that what was arranged on the letter (a short interview with me bringing my CV and jobsearch) was actually going to be much longer. I also knew that, come half three when I had to leave to catch my bus back ten minutes later, I was going to have problems. 
Unfortunately, though more for me I fear, it never got that far; at 20 past he terminated the interview citing my apparent 'putting up barriers' as the reason not to continue. This was because I refused consent for him to keep my CV. I asked why he needed it and offered, three times, to show it to him (that's all), he said it was to apply for jobs on my behalf. The EEC's need this information.
What's an EEC? Employm…

I Hate James Bartholomew

Know the Tory mindset: according to these creatures welfare breeds dependency. Meanwhile they do not want to set a minimum wage, they do not want to create legislation to protect the un - and under - employed from the predations of the system they benefit from. That word is chosen deliberately, because they like benefits for themselves - the ability to sack whom they like, when they like and how they like. In this UKIP are the same. This is the febrile heart of the right wing.
Yesterday on 5 Live's laughable morning phone in - bigots drink for free - another right wing excuse for a human, James Bartholomew, revealed another aspect of their nasty prejudice and staggering ignorance. Not surprisingly this vile creature was once a banker. He writes (if one can call it that) for the Telegraph and though I don't know the content of his ballot paper, I dare say I can guess. He props up every tory myth about the unemployed and welfare with dull witted aplomb.
He believes people have …

Magical Thinking

Well that's that for pursuing a diagnosis for Aspergers or anything remotely similar.

I contacted the Patient Advisory Liaison Service (PALS) to try and sort this out after being lied to by the clinician regarding referring me to the ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) people. That never happened and she continues to deny saying she would. Of course I cannot prove this and so the patient-doctor dynamic kicks in: I'm the lowly patient, she's the expert doctor, her reputation versus mine and so who wins?

I could make a complaint, but what would be the point. I might get a nice letter in a few months time saying sorry in a mealy mouthed way, but it doesn't get me any closer to what I need. That being a diagnosis, a formal, written and recorded, recognition of the issues I deal with. Lacking that, dealing with the systems in society, chiefly the DWP, becomes more difficult. Unfortunately the medical profession doesn't seem to care about that.

We have a society fuelled by …