My mother (and her husband) showed up and it ended badly

In case you give a flying fuck, no I’m not okay.

My mum and her husband showed up at my flat earlier.  I didn’t know they were coming and I didn’t answer the door when I heard someone knocking, but she has a spare key and they let themselves in.  Her husband’s presence made me instantly uncomfortable, especially as he chose to interject himself into the argument.  As usual, she didn’t listen to my point of view, nor could she understand why I want to leave Grantham (she can live here because she’s visibly ‘normal’).   I told her that I was seriously considering going back to Rochester because I’e run into so many brick walls here in the UK and have had just as many bad experiences as I did there, if not more so.  They ended up leaving because I had somewhat of a meltdown due to sheer frustration.

I’ve been drinking on and off since they left.  I passed out earlier and woke up disoriented after an intense nightmare.  I feel very upset about the fact that I allowed my ex to completely take advantage of me once again.  I thought she’d changed and I thought she actually cared about me and genuinely wanted to be a friend.  I thought that living with her might have actually been a good idea, as I’d have been in a far better / more suitable part of t he UK, far enough away from my mum and the past and that I’d have a friend who had my back and even the chance to be a sort of stepmom to her son.

I’m most likely going to leave all this behind for a third time and return to the United States.  I’ve realised that people are just shit and fake everywhere, and that I’m always going to be lonely and isolated.  I don’t even want to live, but I’m too much of a coward to attempt suicide again, having stared death right in the face in Scotland yesterday.  I wish I could just be put to sleep, like an animal would be if it were suffering as much as I am.  While I wouldn’t wish my pain on anyone, I do with that people could actually see it.  My mental health has been on the decline for years and I don’t know how to stop the decline.  No medication has worked and therapy became a safe place for me to talk because I didn’t have any friends.

As for my mum, I told her that I didn’t want to hate her, but I have been hating her lately because I just can’t live close to her.  I feel like there’s no chance of salvaging this, because she has clearly blocked out a lot of what happened in the past and is in complete denial, convinced that she gave me the same upbringing as she did my 2 younger half siblings.  But she’s hardly ever been alone in her life, going from one man to the next.  While I know she has deep seeded problems herself, she’s not visibly different and as far as I can see, the only privilege she doesn’t have is male privilege.  I don’t think she cares that much about me, except that she doesn’t want to have to deal with my belongings if I were to “do something to myself” (her words).  She’s never going to change and my UK-based demons are never going to go away.

Maybe I should just show her this blog entry next time she asks what she’s supposed to have done?   I still don’t think she’d listen though; it’s time I threw in the towel on my joke of what I once believed was my family.  I should have just stayed away.


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Five days with my ex-girlfriend ended in dysphoria and disaster

I just got back to Grantham after spending 5 days with K, my ex-girlfriend in Runcorn.   As I predicted before I left when I had my doubts about going at all, it all ended very badly.  Once again, yours truly was duped into thinking that she cared about me, but she just took advantage of me and caused me a lot of dysphoria.  The only positives from the entire experience was that I did like spending time with her son and her cats, one of which is Lily and Madge’s sister.  Her son has grown up a lot and I hope that he will grow up to be a decent human being, in spite of his mother and his grandmother.

I did a lot of cleaning, mostly the bathroom, kitchen and living room.  There’s still an awful lot to be done in terms of de-cluttering, but I couldn’t help her with that.  The agreement was that she was going to pay half of the cost of my train tickets and provide food while I was there, but that never materialised and I ended up buying food because I’m a moron.  Her son repeatedly referred to me as her ‘slave’, although that wasn’t against me, but rather his mother as he is smarter than I am and knew damn well that she was just using me.  He paid me the ultimate compliment by saying that he likes me because I’m not creepy or weird.  You have no idea how much of a compliment that is from someone who is brutally honest, when normal and non-creepy are all I really want to be.

We went out just once, to a LGBT event in Liverpool, which was okay in itself, but I had to drink a lot of alcohol to reduce my shyness and anxiety.  K tried to hook me up with one of her transgender friends, but I wasn’t really interested.  What triggered my dysphoria is that she said that this friend of hers “looks like a man” and that’s why she wouldn’t date her.  She kept saying it, but it didn’t hit me until later on, when I realised that it was horribly transphobic and it caused me to assume that she must see me that way too, which in turn caused her to block me on Facebook and on her phone, as if she’d done nothing wrong.  She had the audacity to tell me “you haven’t changed at all” in reference to my mental health problems and self-hatred,  but for someone who claims to be such a huge trans ally, she is nothing but a bigot and a hypocrite.

On the way back from the queer event meeting in Liverpool, she forced us to take a train packed with 99% male football supporters on the way back home from a Liverpool match.  It was so bad that I had to get off the train and suffered a panic attack.  She has always put me at risk like that; nothing changes.

Like I said, I feel like I’ve been taken advantage of and it hurts.  We even talked about me moving in with her and her son and for a short while, I was actually looking forward to the idea, because it would have meant getting out of Grantham and moving to a more progressive part of the UK, where I thought I’d have a friend and maybe cuddle buddy too.  But she just wanted to use me as a cleaner and babysitter again, just like she did in 2016.  Yesterday she went out and disappeared for 7 hours, leaving me with her son.  She thinks that my depression is something she doesn’t want her son to be exposed to, but she has exposed him to her shitty friends and partners, which her son described to me as “creepy and weird” and I believe him.

I came back to Grantham via Edinburgh because I’d accidentally booked a return ticket from Edinburgh to Grantham a month ago.  I had planned to do stuff in Edinburgh, but after the shit with my ex hit me, I wasn’t in the mood and I got very drunk instead.  Edinburgh was too crowded and there were too many families and kids, so I took a train to Longniddry instead and just sat at the train station drinking vodka mixed with Lucozade and watched the high speed trains whiz by.  I must’ve looked as fucking depressed as I feel, because some random lady on the opposite platform asked if I was okay.  When I left the station to find a toilet, I was stopped by the police, as she must’ve contacted them.  I managed to bullshit my way out of it and convinced them that I wasn’t about to jump in front of a train by getting into a conversation about how upset I am about Brexit, to which the male policeman agreed with me.  They were both very nice and I know they were just doing their job, but yet another do-gooder who just wanted to prevent a suicide, rather than the causes of suicide almost landed me in deep shit.  I wasn’t going to jump in front of a train, but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want to.

I can’t even appreciate Edinburgh’s beauty anymore.  It’s just another place that reminds me of what I’m missing out on and what I’ll never be.   I thought it was just Rochester, but it’s everywhere and it’s the era that I’m now living in, full of online activists, online allies, ‘movements’, do-gooders and saviors.  It’s impossible for me to fit in anywhere, make a real friend or survive and function normally in this ‘plastic’ era, full of people who truly don’t give a fuck.

My therapist in Rochester emailed me back to say that they’re trying to work something out for me there, but I’m not sure if that will work out or if I’d even be able to ho back there for a third time.  I do regret returning to the UK though, to a shitty family, a fake friend and to an ex who I should have told to get lost for good a long time ago.  I’m as socially isolated here as I was in Rochester, but without the healthcare and the support.  The England-based demons that pertain to my past and my upbringing have caused me to hate my mother so much that I cannot help lashing out at her for the favouritism towards my 2 younger / perfect half siblings who I also hate.  The only things I’ve gained from returning to the UK is a drinking problem that I have lost control of and depleted savings.

I sat on a bench in St. Andrew Square in Edinburgh, half drunk and with my head in my hands just hoping that someone would sit next to me and ask me if I was okay, but no one did.  I guess I should have expected no one to care, in a city full of tourists and snobby people that pass by as homeless people beg for change.  I felt completely and utterly alone, wishing that I was still with S (my ex-wife) enjoying what is a beautiful city together, blending in and looking normal like everyone else.  She’d have loved Edinburgh; we’d have loved Edinburgh together.

Walking back home from Grantham train station was somewhat scary, especially after what happened a couple of weeks ago.  There were groups of teenagers outside takeaway shops that I had to cross the street to avoid.  I kept my earphones stuffed in my ears and the volume of my music up as high as possible to drown out any abuse they might’ve hurled my way.  It’s now almost 1 am and I’m drinking vodka and coke, because I can’t sleep.

I don’t know what to do anymore and I would welcome advice at this point.  I’m truly at the end of my rope.  I have nothing here…nothing to live for, just dread and homelessness in my very near future.

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I’m having major second thoughts about going to stay with my ex tomorrow

I’m leaving for Runcorn tomorrow, as I’m going to stay with K (my ex-girlfriend) for a few days.  I know she really only wants me there to help with cleaning and de-cluttering her house.  I was okay with the idea at first, because I wanted to see her cats and her son again.  I also figured that it wouldn’t hurt to get out of Grantham and to escape my own wretched head for a while and it would stop me from drinking.  However, I’m having serious second thoughts.

She emailed me earlier and suggested that we could start work tomorrow, i.e. the same day that I get there.  I was a bit upset by that, being as traveling on public transport causes me so much stress and anxiety that I’ll be ‘spent’ by the time I get there tomorrow afternoon.  As she’s also on the autism spectrum and probably has the same issue, I thought she’d understand.  Secondly, I think I’ve probably underestimated the sheer scale of what needs doing, as the more she tells me, the more I realise that it’s going to be an enormous task.  I lived with her in 2016 and her house was in a bad state then, but over the course of a few weeks, we managed to get it in cleaned and tidied and after that, I managed to stay on top o it.  But I don’t know what she expects to happen in the space of just 4 days, especially as I don’t live with her and have no idea what she wants to keep or throw out.

Secondly, when I committed to helping her,  I didn’t realise that I’m going to be doing this during the Easter school  holidays.  Had I known, I would never have agreed to travel anywhere during this time, especially on the route that I’ve chosen which involves connecting trains in Nottingham and Birmingham New Street and taking regional train services, which are more likely to have families with children and teenagers as passengers.  I cycled to Grantham station earlier to pick up my tickets from the machine around the same time that I’ll be leaving tomorrow and there were quite a lot of families and kids, so needless to say, I’m dreading tomorrow and I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to go through with it, especially as there’s really nothing in this for me except for the rekindling of more bad memories and being placed in a situation in someone else’s house where I’ll be out of my depth, as I really can’t cope with clutter and chaos.

I know she wants to be friends, but I generally avoid being friends with exes, as it causes me too much emotional turmoil and a lingering sense of rejection.  I’m not even sure how her son will react to me after all this time and I’m not sure I would be able to take any potential nastiness from him if he doesn’t want me there.  But I’m lonely and in this state of mind, I’m gullible and easily fooled and taken advantage of and I often don’t realise until it’s too late, because of my ‘delayed reaction’ slow thinking.

I’ve not had a drink since yesterday evening, which is the longest I’ve gone without drinking in a couple of weeks.  I don’t feel good though or better for it; in fact, I’m dying for a drink as my mind is raving and I feel restless, despite also feeling exhausted due to chronic sleep deprivation.  One of the reasons I was going to go tomorrow is to make it harder for myself to drink, as I would not drink in someone else’s house with a child present.

I just don’t think this is a good idea.  When we were together, she’d tell me that she couldn’t handle my depression and I feel very depressed at the moment and unable to snap myself out of it.  I know it’s going to make me feel like shit, either way.  Encounters with people seem to cause me nothing but pain and envy these dsys.  Every attempt I’ve made to make friends or reconnect with former friends has ended badly.

If I do go, my blog entries are likely to be short and sporadic while I’m away, as I’m not taking my laptop.  I’m pretty sure my long, rambling blog entries won’t be missed and are largely ignored anyway.

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I’m seriously considering going back to Rochester (New York)

If you’ve been following this blog since before I returned to the UK in November last year, you’ll know that I wanted nothing more than to leave Rochester and come ‘home’.  That’s why you’d be forgiven for thinking that I’m nuts for planning to go back there, but I believe that it would be the best decision, aside from giving up on life.

I’ve been in touch with my old therapist back in Rochester and he’s told me that he and my care manager are working together to find a solution for me, so that I can return.  I explained my situation to my therapist and he didn’t judge me or tell me “I told you so”.  He knows me and my issues better than anyone and he knows why I came running back here.  I also explained that I’e been binge drinking heavily and can no longer control it and he floated the idea of either an inpatient or outpatient treatment program, which is probably necessary at this point, if only because I’m wasting far too much money on alcohol.

Let’s face it, I’ve failed; I thought that coming here would be different, despite the dread of Brexit and knowing that I’d have to face my UK demons again pertaining to my upbringing.  I thought that Rochester was the problem, but I’m, the problem and society is the problem as it’s changed so much that it’s very difficult to connect with anyone anymore outside of the internet.  Five months on and all I’ve done is lose the help that I had in Rochester and I’m even more isolated as a result.  The demons from my past have returned to my present and living in a small town full of families and kids has been a disaster for my mental health.  In Rochester, I used to ride my bike everywhere with headphones on to drown out noise and any potential verbal abuse directed at me.  Here in Grantham, I not only have to wear headphones to go out, but I have to drink quite a bit to numb my anxiety too, which is largely responsible for my drinking problem.

There is no help here and it could be months or even over a year before I find what little help there is,  which will probably be in the form of another misdiagnosis of a mental illness that I do not have.  I’m still getting my Social Security Disability from the US, but if I stay here much longer, that will stop because they only pay it out for up to 6 months.  The chances of getting similar disability benefits here in the UK are slim to none, especially as I have no advocacy here at all, unlike in Rochester where I had a care manager and a therapist to help with things like forms, assessments and medical issues.

I thought that I’d be stronger and more confident when I returned to the UK, but I was wrong.  I thought I’d be able to work again, but I can’t even go to the grocery store or out on my bike without risking a panic attack and without coming home feeling utterly drained.  I didn’t think that Brexit would be so bad and I thought that Brexiteers weren’t as rabid and hateful as Trump supporters, but I was wrong about that too.  I thought I’d feel safer here than I was in Rochester and the United States in general, but I’ve dealt with shit here too, but it’s worse here because kids and teenagers are everywhere and impossible to avoid, while I hardly ever saw them in the last neighborhood I lived in in Rochester.  I can’t work and I can’t even take care of myself due to my inability to function in this world and in this era.  I need to be in supportive housing, so that I’m not completely isolated and have a degree of protection from others and from myself.

The truth is that the UK I grew up in; the UK I left in 2004 as a very young adult no longer exists and the best thing I could do and what I should have done 2 years ago is to let it go.  This country has changed exponentially and the UK I was familiar with and called ‘home’ once doesn’t exist anymore and I don’t like what it has become.  I was terrified of Trump, but I was relatively safe from harm in a blue state like New York, but nowhere in the UK is safe from Brexit or from the Tory Party..

I feel like a fool for coming back here in the first place, thinking I had a family, a close friend and a home to come back to.  I don’t have any of those things, just a drinking problem and massive loss of my savings.  If I had a family, a friend or two and support, perhaps this would’ve worked out, even with Brexit.  But I can’t do this alone and I’m drowning in alcohol and depression.

I don’t fit in anywhere and I will always be alone, wherever I live.  I will never be able to reconcile with my mother or lay the past to rest while I’m still living here.

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‘Happiness’ and ‘love’ are just words to me; things that happen to other people. Most people don’t even realise how fortunate they are to experience such things, even if not on a regular basis.

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Worried about being targeted by local teenagers

I didn’t realse that the schools had closed for Easter holidays until I went out on my bike earlier and saw kids and teenagers everywhere.  When I say ‘everywhere’, I am not exaggerating either.  I’ve never lived in a place where there are so many of them as a percentage of the total population.  It’s going to make going out even more difficult than usual for the next 2 weeks.  On top of that, I’m extremely worried about traveling on Thursday, when I go and stay with K, my ex-girlfriend.  I can’t back out of it now, as I’ve already bought the train tickets and promised her that I’d help her de-clutter and clean her house.

I’m afraid of people, but my biggest fears are of kids of all ages and teenagers.  Some of them are congregating in the street outside my flat on a regular basis now and that has me worried, as it’s only a matter of time before I’m noticed by them if I happen to be returning home.  The other day, I noticed an empty liquor bottle on the wall into my building and McDonald’s trash from where they’c been congregating right outside my gate.  Then earlier this evening, a whole group of them were fucking around on the street outside:

I really don’t need this shit, so I have to leave.  The question is ‘where?’ and ‘how?’. I feel like it’s only a matter of time before I get targeted.  As much as I hate to admit it, I actually felt safer in Rochester, which is one of the most statistically dangerous cities in New York,  I had problems there, but I figured out where the good and bad areas where and I very rarely ran into kids or teenagers, even during the school holidays. It doesn’t help that I came across this article in the local news, about a 12 year old girl being attacked by another girl, as bystanders did nothing but film the incident and it on social media:

ARTICLE: ‘Shocking’ attack on Grantham schoolgirl filmed by pupils and shared on social media

My question is, why didn’t anyone try to help her?  Society is fucked.

Anyway, I’m getting really fucking worried about what’s going to happen next month, as my lease is up at the end of the month and I’ve no intention of renewing it (I can’t anyway, as I’m not going to be able to pay them another 6 months rent upfront and my mum has already said that she will not act as a guarantor again).   I want to try my luck in Scotland (Glasgow or Edinburgh), but I’m waiting to see what happens with Brexit, as crashing out of the European Union without a deal will affect pro-European Scotland just as much as England and Wales.

The stress and worry of having to move again soon and feeling imprisoned is just exacerbating my drinking problem, which I’m losing control of.  There’s no help or support here for anything that I’m going through and I really don’t have any friends left.  I should have just stayed in Rochester and tried to get back into supportive housing of some sort, because at least I was getting a but of help there and I could go out on my bike freely without having to run into kids or teenagers om every corner.

For the next 2 weeks, the only time I’m going to be able to go out is very early in the morning.  This really fucking sucks.

On the plus side, when I did go out this morning, I made a new kitty friend:

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Hardline Brexiteers are more dangerous than Trump supporters

When I made repeated claims that Trump was worse than Brexit several months ago, I was wrong….very wrong.  Post-Brexit Britain will be a far worse place than Trump’s America and Brexit itself will be far more damaging long-term, while hopefully Trump will be gone in a couple of years.  As for Brexiteers, they are far more rabid, far angrier and they seem far more ready to act on their hatred and bigotry than Trump supporters are.  Brexiteers are far more dangerous, at least to the UK in the here and now.

I wish I’d just stayed away, because Brexit is giving me so much anxiety on top of the anxiety that I already have.  I was relatively safe from the worst of Trump’s directives, as I was living in New York, which is a blue state and the Governor supports LGBT people and immigrant minorities.  There’s nothing to protect me here and when the shit hits the fan after a now expected ‘no deal Brexit’, I’m sure that communities will turn on one another and the bigots will look for new scapegoats.

Fuck Brexit, fuck populism and fuck Brexiteers.  They call Remainers “TRAITORS” and “REMOANERS” (in big Daily Express type capital letters), yet they’ve been complaining about the EU for as long as I can remember.  But if the UK economy falls apart, history will brand them the traitors, not those who wanted to remain in the EU.  Both Trump supporters and Brexiteers spout the same garbage such as “drain the swamp” and both believe that they are somehow “taking back control”.  Extreme English nationalism has already led to the murder of a Member of Parliament, Jo Cox and many politicians and other powerful figures continue to incite hatred against Remainers, the EU itself, immigrants or anyone who is ‘different.

Since a ‘no deal Brexit’ is now imminent and the hardline Brexiteers have won, it will most likely lead to the worst case scenario of food and medicine shortages, economic collapse and widespread civil unrest.  I don’t even want to be alive when this shit hits the fan, which it will.  Brexiteers will either deny these risks or they simply don’t care.  When their chosen ideology fails, they will look for further scapegoats to blame.

Whether you agree with me or not, the populists have won and are already making people’s lives hell  and they’re setting both the UK and the US back many decades.  As for me, I have no future anywhere; not in the United States and certainly not here in the UK.  Existing in this world has become too toxic, too draining and I feel like the worst is yet to come.   Since a ‘no deal Brexit’ is very likely now, I am fucking terrified and ashamed of what the UK is becoming.  The UK I grew up in is all but gone, barring aesthetics.  It has been replaced by a hate filled, divided country that is tearing itself apart.

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