Dystopian Brexit nightmares

Last night was the second night in a row that I’ve had a dystopian nightmare about Brexit Britain. The one I had on Sunday night / Monday morning was worse though.  In the nightmare, I was arrested for simply being a Remainer and held in a filthy cell for days, until I was forced to meet Britain’s new Prime Minister, Boris Johnson.  He made me sign pieces of paper to say that I would abandon socialism and support the ‘new United Kingdom’, or I would be tortured.  I refused to sign the first time around, so they put me in a cage that was too narrow for me to sit down or even move much, so I was in agony due to having spinal stenosis / sciatica.  I ended up signing because I was in too much pain and I just wanted to leave.  I woke up after that with a considerable amount of back pain.

In the nightmare I had last night, I was sent to Scotland on some sort of mission that basically set me up to fail.  The train was late and I failed at whatever the task was.  In the nightmare, the towns and cities I passed through on the train were decaying and overgrown, with brunt out cars add refuse littering the streets.  When I arrived in Scotland, I had to pretend to be American so that they didn’t think I was English, as anti-English sentiment was at an all time high in Scotland, after they were repeatedly refused a referendum on independence and the entire country had been placed under martial law by Westminster.

Even if by some miracle Brexit is stopped, I still don’t wan to live in the UK.  I’ve experienced how different life could be both here in the Netherlands and during my time in Canada.  I’ve been here for 2 weeks now and there’s honestly nothing that I dislike about the place.  I accept that I’m never going to fit in with people anywhere, but at least they leave me the fuck alone here.  For a small and densely populated country, it’s actually very easy to get away from people or avoid them completely, even during weekends.  There are kids and teenagers here too and they scare me anywhere, but I don’t run into many of them, even at weekends.

I cycled to The Hague yesterday and took loads of pictures of the city centre, as I didn’t really explore it last time I was there.  It was really busy, but I didn’t feel too intimidated, although t’s still painful to see couples and families everywhere, as is the case at weekends.  The Hague is a nice city and I would totally live there. It has a proper city centre with loads of good stores (a lot of the same retail chains you find in the UK) and plenty of cafes and restaurants.  The beaches are beautiful, big and sandy too and all is very accessible by bike.  I found a few nice urban parks too and I was able to sit in them without seeing many people (I would not have been able to do this in Grantham or even Nottingham).

PHOTOS: The Hague 13/06/19 & 16/06/19

A guy I’ve been talking to suggested that if I wanted to stay here and the UK crashes out of the EU, I should apply for asylum. I’d probably be denied the first time, but that could take a year.  I would then appeal and that could drag it out further, but by then I may not be forced to leave, especially if pro-European countries plan to take British citizens in as a “fuck you” message to British populists who sought to not only leave the EU, but damage it.  The problem is that I’m not from a country like Syria, where people are fleeing for their lives.

But the idea of living here and having some semblance of a life is a pure pipe dream or a fantasy.  It might be feasible if I had the necessary survival skills and the confidence, but I don’t.  I couldn’t even manage living on my own in my country of origin, never mind try to start again in a new country and with having to learn a new language with my poor learning skills.  My fate has essentially been sealed by autism, ugliness, dyspraxia, my gender identity and by 17 million British Leave voters.

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She triggered me again

K, my ex-girlfriend who I was planning to stay with for a while has triggered me again.  I understand that she’s autistic and has no filter, which causes her to be brutally honest.  But my brain doesn’t know how to differentiate and the pain that someone can cause me is the same, regardless of whether they meant it maliciously or not.

I don’t even want to go into the specifics, but it relates to my ugliness and I’m really hurting right now.  I never got over her her telling me that I should go with her to Poland to get a nose job the last time we met 3 weeks ago.  Since then, I’ve been even more self-conscious about this ugly tumor on my face.   It’s not the first time that someone on the autism spectrum has upset me with a comment, but with her I feel like she can be extremely manipulative and she has a hidden agenda going on.  I’m on the spectrum too, but I’d never make someone feel like they’re ugly and validate their insecurities.  I also have a filter when it comes to knowing what to say about someone’s appearance.  I avoid children partly because they have no filter and I feel like I have to avoid some autistic people too.

I’ve blocked her on Facebook, along with a couple of others who accused me of overreacting.  Needless to say, I won’t be moving in with her.  She’s too much of a risk to my already precarious mental health and she makes me feel awful about myself and misgenders me as gender neutral, which she knows full well that I hate.  I feel like she doesn’t even see me as a woman and I’m sick of her referring to me as her ‘friend’ as if I’m still interested in her romantically  to reject me, which I can assure you that I’m not.

With the Rochester option slipping away, I’m now homeless.  I have no idea where I’m going to go next, but at this point, suicide is a preferable option to enduring any more of what ‘life’ throws at me.

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When fiction and fictional characters become emotional triggers

When I was young, television shows, moves and books were distractions from how shitty my life was (and still is).  I could watch pretty much anything and enjoy it and I read a lot of books.  But that isn’t the case now; fiction has actually become as much of a trigger as being around real people, as it causes the same intense feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, ugliness and loneliness.  It’s not only depression that has robbed me of my ability to enjoy fiction, but also my sense of envy of others.  I really don’t watch movies or shows anymore, apart from a few exceptions where I know there isn’t a love story or that the cast aren’t comprised of purely young, beautiful, skinny and successful people.  Reading is very difficult for me these days due to chronic pain and zero attention span, but I flat out avoid books where there’s a love story involved.

American television and movies are the worst, in terms of how they make me feel.  American shows and movies are full of gender stereotypes, perfect beautiful people with perfect lives who followed the ‘plan’ (high school, college, fall in love, career, get married, have kids).  Most mainstream American shows and movies have cheesy love stories and there are very few unattractive American actors or actresses, to this day.. British shows and movies used to be different, but Britain has become far more Americanised since I left in 2004 and bow British shows and movies are much the same and affect me just as negatively.

There are a few exceptions, but those exceptions are becoming fewer and farther between.  I can appreciate gritty movies and shows where there isn’t a love story (or at least not much of one).  I like Star Trek and even though there are a few love stories, it’s seldom over the top and at least Star Trek love stories involve people of different sexual orientations  I’ve seen a few independent American movies that didn’t have a love story and where I could even relate to the characters, such as Paddleton.  I watch documentaries, especially if they’re issues that I care about..  I watched a British documentary recently on Netflix called 60 Days on the Streets about an ex-serviceman who slept rough in Manchester, London and Glasgow for a total of 60 days and experienced life as a homeless person.

But apart from a few notable exceptions, fiction has become another source of torment and even a trigger.  It is a horrible curse to have, as I am unable to enjoy fiction anymore.  It’s become one of the aspects of life that I want to escape from, rather than an escape itself.  Fiction is just another reminder of what I’m missing out on, what I’ll never have and who I’ll never be.  I wish I could disappear into the wilderness and just live off the grid without television, radio or contact with other human beings, especially through social media. 


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Dire news on the Brexit front (‘no deal’ is now more likely than ever)

I really *should* stop looking at the news, but doing so is impossible in the age of information that we live in.  When it comes to Brexit, it affects me too much to just choose to ignore it.  The latest news regarding Brexit is extremely distressing, as it means a ‘no deal’ scenario (worst case scenario) is now likely, as MP’s voted yesterday against a motion that would have taken ‘no deal’ off the table:

Brexit: MPs reject Labour plan for no-deal vote – BBC News

Tories cheer as Labour motion to prevent no-deal Brexit is rejected –  Metro News 

Basically, the Labour Party has failed in its role as a credible opposition to a Tory Brexit, as 8 of its MP’s voted with the government.  The Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn has been completely ineffective at opposing a Tory / hard Brexit, as he has sat on the fence and dithered for far too long.  MP’s had a credible chance to stop no deal Brexit yesterday,  but they collectively failed again.  The UK is now on course to crash out of the European Union with no exit deal on October 31st, as it’s likely that Boris Johnson will become the next Prime Minister and he supports no deal, as do most of the Tory leadership candidates, most of whom are awful human beings.  Boris Johnson himself has been compared to Donald Trump on numerous occasions and for good reason; he is a populist who sold a lie when he claimed that leaving the EU would mean an extra £350 million a week for the National Health Service.  The Tories have caused so much irreparable damage to the UK and to British society and a no deal Brexit will make matters worse, as it will give them even more power.

The implications of a no deal Brexit are terrifying from my perspective.  It will lead to food and medicine shortages, major job losses, further benefit cuts and cuts to public services and civil unrest.  The NHS is at risk, especially if Britain is forced into a trade deal with Trump’s America as privatisation could happen if the floodgates are opened to allow US insurance companies to swoop in.  We will lose our right to live and work elsewhere in the EU and for me that’s devastating, especially now as I’ve seen how my life could improve significantly if I were to be able to stay here in the Netherlands, where I feel safer when I’m out in public and surrounded by a greater number of people that most likely share my values.  I feel that Britain is no longer a safe place for any minority group, as the bigoted proponents of Brexit will simply look for new scapegoats when they realise that the EU and EU migration are not the cause of Britain’s ills and that the days of Britain being a world power are long gone and that has nothing to do with the EU either.

Even if Brexit ends up not happening, I still have no desire to stay in England itself, but I would have given Scotland a chance.  But if no deal Brexit happens, Scotland will be just as screwed as England and I will not be able to stay in the Netherlands legally and I don’t have the survival skills necessary to try to do it illegally.  I admire the shit out of immigrants who can just uproot to a new country and survive, but I don’t have those skills  It would be an uphill battle for me even if I were to be able to stay here legally, if Britain remains in the EU or at least opts for a ‘soft Brexit’ in which we’d still retain free movement of people.

I would return to Rochester (New York) if I knew I had somewhere to go there.  My therapist and care manager still email me to update me on possible housing options, but there’s nothing concrete yet and if I returned, I’d be homeless and friendless   I know my therapist is keen for me to return, but I can’t do it unless I have somewhere safe to stay, even if it’s just relatively temporary.  As much as it pains me to say due to the difficulties I experienced in Rochester and the United States in general, I would choose to return there hands down over having to return to post-no deal Brexit Britain.  The UK is a total lost cause as far as I’m concerned and all my worst fears about Brexit are coming true.

The latest Brexit news has really affected me in the worst way possible.  I can’t sleep and my stomach is knots, caused by a sickening feeling of dread that hasn’t lifted since last night.  The truth is that I won’t be able to stay here, so is there nay point in even trying when I don’t know how to go about doing so?  I should just accept that this is a temporary reprieve and a chance to spend time with a close friend and do some of the few things that I can still enjoy, before facing the inevitable decision that I will have to make soon enough,  I know that Brexit is only one of several legitimate reasons why I want to cease existing, but it’s up there with my other very legitimate reasons and it’s outside of my control.

I should have stayed away from the UK and just forgotten about the place, especially given all my past demons there and the issues with my mother.  The country I left in 2004 no longer exists and has been replaced by a place that I no longer recognise; a place where hate crime and violence are on the rise and where politicians are using rhetoric that is becoming increasingly hostile to minority groups.  I wish I would have let go of my distorted illusions of Britain before I made the grave mistake of returning there.  I am so angry at Brexiteers, their ‘leaders’ and the heavily biased media that has caused this unnecessary nightmare.  They should be the ones to have to suffer from the negative consequences of a no deal Brexit.  I am ashamed to be British right now and I’m very fucking scared and feeling utterly hopeless.



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Bike ride to Hook of Holland

I cycled from Delft to Hook of Holland and back again earlier today.  I did roughly 45 km, or just under 30 miles.  As with my trip to The Hague yesterday, it was mostly flat and the only uphill gradients I encountered were at underpasses and bridges.  I didn’t have to deal with cars, except for on a few minor back roads and they were few and far between.  The weather was cool and mostly sunny and the scenery was beautiful.  I’ve noticed that even industrial buildings here are very well landscaped and the Dutch seem to care a lot about the environment, despite it being as densely populated as the UK.

PHOTOS: Delft to Hook of Holland bike ride – 11/06/19

The Hook of Holland itself was somewhat of an anticlimax, as the very name of the town had me expecting something a bit grandiose.  There really wasn’t much to the town itself and I didn’t get to see many ships, as the view of the shipping canal was obscured by fences and construction  I did find a nice spot where I found some sheep and goats to make friends with, before I headed back to Delft along roughly the same route.

There were no anxiety provoking moments, although I didn’t even see many people, never mind interacted with anyone.  I was able to remove my earphones for most of the journey as I did not fear sudden noise, triggering sounds or verbal abuse from people.

I really like it here a lot.  I’ve not felt this ‘free’ to be outdoors in what seems like forever.  I don’t even miss drinking.

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There’s nothing ‘fantastic’ about being dyspraxic

In this age where we claim to be more accepting of neurodiversity, I feel that we are trying too hard to normalise neurological conditions and make them seem ‘cool’ in accordance with everything else that I find the be bullshit in the 21st century.  Case and point, while I was searching for dyspraxia help and support a few months ago, I came across this site called ‘Fantastic Dyspraxic’:


Whether it’s dyspraxia or part of being an aspie (as my last therapist maintained), I have a particularly severe case of it with a wide range of textbook and non-textbook symptoms.   There’s absolutely nothing ‘fantastic’ about existing with a condition that has (among other things) ruined my life.   Here are some of the ways that dyspraxia (if it is that) has impacted my life negatively:

  • Poor coordination when walking, meaning that I not only walk funny, but the way that I walk damages shoes and my feet.  Running is out of the question as I do not have the rhythm, I get easily tired as a result and I’m prone to tripping over and injuring myself.
  • I couldn’t tie my shoelaces until I was 12-13 and I still have difficulty, hence I usually wear shoes that I can just slip on or buckle.
  • I can’t tie my hair in a ponytail.
  • I can’t fasten dresses or bras from behind.  When it comes to putting a bra on, I have to fasten it first, then lift it over and I’ve broken a few bras as a result.  In fact, getting dressed still takes me a long time.
  • I can’t do makeup at all, because my hand coordination is so poor.  This is a particular problem because makeup covers up some of my ugliness, so it’s necessary to at least wear foundation and eye makeup every time I go out.Eating
  • I have trouble gripping things, so I drop, spill and break things a lot, including expensive phones.
  • I am very probe to self injury due to poor spatial awareness.
  • I can drive, but not very well and I can’t parallel park.  I am an extremely hesitant driver because my reactions are slower than those of most people.
  • I have great difficulty processing information, hence I appear retarded to most people.
  • I can’t think on the spot.
  • I don’t like eating in front of other people as it can be messy due to my poor grip and occasionally quite literally missing my mouth sometimes.
  • I have no sense of direction, hence I get easily lost and tend to panic if I don’t have Google Maps at hand.
  • I am basically useless at anything involving using my hands, including dealing with screws and bolts, packing and unpacking, folding sheets and clothes and any form of DIY or mechanical repairs..
  • I m horrible at all sports, from football to netball to pool to tennis and I was always made fun of by my peers and even by teachers at school.
  • I am terrible at organisation and I cannot deal with paperwork at all, to the extent that I just throw letters and bills in the trash when I receive them, because they cause me so much stress.
  • I have extremely poor short-term memory, to the point that I can watch an entire movie and still not remember the name of most of the characters.

As with most of the problems I was cursed with at birth, I’ve never received any help, support or even understanding for my dyspraxia outside of the internet.  My mother still doesn’t want to believe there;s anything wrong with me except my own attitude and that’s always been the case.  I never got the help or recognition I  needed during my childhood, which would have made a huge difference in terms of my dyspraxia and autism spectrum disorders.

Dyspraxia causes me a great deal of stress and embarrassment, especially if I’m among other people.  Since most neurotypical people have no idea what dyspraxia is, I often just say that I’ve got “bad hands” to make them understand that it’s not just clumsiness or laziness.  Dyspraxia even impacts my femininity, as I can’t do makeup and I find some clothes almost impossible to wear, if they need to be tied or fastened.  People have made fun of me or doubted me for struggling with seemingly simple tasks and that has destroyed what little confidence I once had.  While I can cook, clean and bathe myself, I have to do these things extremely slowly, to avoid having some sort of accident.

Perhaps this annoying trend of trying to normalise neurological conditions and even make them seem ‘cool’ works for people who are getting help or support or people who are more high functioning, but I find the whole concept insulting.  I often come across blog posts here on WordPress that are basically dyspraxia success stores, from people who’ve learned to live with this condition and even thrive with it.  While I’m glad that they have succeeded in life despite their adversities, it doesn’t make me feel any better or any less alone.

So again, there’s nothing fantastic about being this dyspraxic, so fuck you ‘Fantastic Dyspraxic’ and fuck you to anyone who thinks they need to normalise serious neurological conditions for those of us who are still struggling with them and drowning due to lack of help, support and understanding.

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Bike ride to the beach at Zuiderstrand (The Hague)

I cycled 14 km to the nearest beach at The Hague this morning  It was a stress-free journey both there and back.  The Netherlands is truly a cyclist’s paradise and it’s good to be able to enjoy cycling without having to worry about cycling on the road and sharing the road with aggressive motorists, as is the case in the UK.  There are quite literally bicycle ‘superhighways’ and they’re in better condition than most British roads.  The beach itself was called Zuiderstrand and it was a beautiful beach.  Despite being a weekend and despite the nice weather, there weren’t many people around.  I took my sneakers off and had a paddle in the sea, which wasn’t as cold as I expected it to be.

PHOTOS: Bike ride to Zuiderstrad, The Hague – 09/06/19

I really like this part of the Netherlands so far and I’m already finding it much easier to go out here than in Grantham.  The towns and cities are much more ‘spread out’ than those in the UK and there’s far more space, despite being a densely populated country.  I don’t feel like everyone is on top of each other, as they are in the UK.  It’s easier to avoid people because of the layout of the towns and cities and I feel far less anxious going out, whether I’m walking or cycling.  Nobody has messed with me or stared at me.  This is a lot like the experience I had when I was staying in Southern Ontario last year, but I had no legal right to stay there.

I emailed a transgender organisation here in the Netherlands to see what help there might be.  I don’t really know where (or how) to start , but I really think tat I would like to find a legitimate way to stay here permanently.  I really don’t want to go back to the UK because of Brexit and because of my past and I’, not mad keen on the idea of returning to Rochester.


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