The Neighbours from Hell

Not their cat, but they did have one that was a right bastard!

These individuals have been carrying out a campaign of harassment against me for the past 4 years. There was the time the wife attacked and slandered me in the street in 2008 and then, in 2009, when the husband even threatened to hit me. All because they have believed my mother's lies about me. Anyone with any intelligence at all would consider both sides before making judgments. Anyone with any class wouldn't behave in such a manner, ever. And you'd have hoped that things would have improved since mother died last year, but they haven't. 

Several witnesses could assure you that this harassment is all one-sided and that I've done no more than ignore them. They're heavy drinkers and the police are now aware of their behaviour. It was on the last occasion when I was obliged to call 999 because of their behaviour towards me that they were visited by the police, whom I know to have advised them that, 'if they felt they had any complaint, they should make it through the correct channels'. 

Hence, they contacted the council who wrote to me about their complaints in Aug 2012. They should have specified "valid" complaint, obvs!

Among the frivolous complaints these harassers brought were accusing me of playing loud music, when it was, in fact, themselves. Yes, really! On one occasion they began complaining to another neighbour about “my” loud music and this neighbour was able to tell them that she had heard the complainant shouting above her own music, asking her husband what to play next. It's laughable.

On another occasion, on a Wednesday afternoon, I did play some music while cleaning the house and at 5:25 p.m. (hardly 'unsociable' hours) hear this idiot shout out, “Turn it down for Christ's sake.” To begin with, it should be obvious that, if I could hear him, over the music, inside my house, it can't have been that loud. In fact, I measured it and the reading was in the region of 60dB, which is described as “normal conversation at 3ft.” Utterly unreasonable.

Next they complained about dog barking. On several occasions, it has been reported to me by other neighbours that they were complaining about “my” dog barking, at times when I know that my dog was under my bed sleeping and these others confirmed it was barking was from other neighbourhood dogs.

They also listed screaming and shouting. What, at myself? Mere fantasy.

I'd already paid for additional soundproofing (above that stipulated by Building Control) to be installed on our only adjoining wall, because I knew they were likely to be assholes. I cannot hear any sounds whatsoever coming from their property, so I am confident they cannot hear sounds from mine either.

They're absolutely obviously making it all up.

Of course, I invited the council to carry out whatever monitoring they wanted, but funnily enough, they didn't accept the invitation. I'm sure they could tell.

The harassers also objected to my works on refurbishing my property, as if they had a right to that and I was not entitled to modernise the unmaintained sh*t hole my mother left. They'd even climbed up on ladders to look over the six-foot fence and take photos of my builder's equipment in my garden, because they imagined they had a right to complain to the council about that too! 

To add to this, my builder told me that the woman had accosted him in the street while he was on a break to tell him that I was evil and had killed my mother. 

Fortunately, he was intelligent enough to see through this and was both astounded on my behalf and amused in equal measure. But it could have been much worse, if say, he'd listened and maybe walked off the job as a result.

This campaign was in addition to them trolling me online that obliged me to close, remove or move sites, social media and content to deter the bullying.

Others, including my mother, told me that the neighbour in question had a gun in his possession, which was related to his work on a country estate. This I've only had reported to me, however, I have been told that, on a tipoff, the police called to their house next door one evening. They found the said gun, lying loose and unsecured, on their dining-room table, surrounded by a quantity of ammunition, all of which were confiscated. Put this together with the above unreasonable behaviour and I do believe there was a real potential threat to my life.

Funerary Fiascos

My mother managed to put the 'fun' back into funeral.

For the record and the sake of my sanity, here's the fiasco of my mother's funeral. When my mother died in Sep 2011, I knew that her funeral was all pre-arranged, because when my father's mother died back in 1993, my father had bought two funeral plans - for himself and my mother - out of the proceeds of the sale of my grandmother's house. My father trusted and liaised with me on these things, so I knew about them. As I was executor and had a significant role in arranging my father's funeral in 2001, I already had experience of the procedure. 

Of course, because my mother had made a recent - very successful - career out of convincing people that I'm entirely stupid, lazy and a liar, I was judged incapable of being able to handle this. My mother was admitted to hospital in August with a virus - obviously a risk factor in addition to the chronic leukemia she was having chemotherapy treatment for - but it was the fact that she was subsequently pumped full of IV antibiotics by the hospital that probably finished her off. 

This is something I can say confidently, because antibiotics are absolutely not indicated for viral infections and, in addition to the chemo (the chemo she denied having, but it's in writing on her death certificate!) depleted her immune system. So I queried the antibiotic use with the hospital doctor. Pretty sure it was as a result of my raising this issue that, despite the fact it wouldn't normally be done when she was already in hospital, they involved the coroner. To me, that means they knew they'd done wrong and were perhaps expecting a complaint. 

Anyway, despite the relationship we had, I compassionately kept up the pretence that she could get better. It's what you do if you're a decent human being.

On the other hand, a so-called [former] family friend visited this frail, dying, old woman in hospital and outright asked her if she had organised her funeral. 

How do I know this? Because the idiot came straight round to the house to 'proudly' announce exactly what he'd just done, clearly with the impression that I couldn't know what was already organised nor be able to carry out those plans. He's not related and at no point ever was he going to be responsible for this. 

Seriously, I could not believe what he was saying and that he had been callous and insensitive enough to ask my mother such a question. I was and am, horrified and incandescent with rage and sent him away to never darken my door again. 

Very deliberately, because of this unforgivable behaviour, I did not invite him to the funeral, but he just gate-crashed it anyway, along with his wife and other uninvited parties. He also contacted me again afterwards, claiming that certain things I did - like where her ashes were scattered - was not what my mother wanted. It was what was pre-arranged. It's possible my mother could have had one of her hairbrained ideas (that wouldn't have been allowed anyway) that she'd mentioned to him, but remember, I had the funeral plan in writing. He could f*ck right off. He kept ringing and I blocked him in the end. I've had no further contact, but I'll bet he hasn't worked it out and still thinks I'm in the wrong.

If she had changed her mind since those 1993 plans had been written, she had not told me, neither had she had the plans amended or changed and it was not up to me to make any changes to them based upon any "hearsay". So I didn't.

Oh and I was her executor, so I was officially, legally, responsible.

Even so, I was surprised at the detail in the funeral plan in writing. The only item not included in the price was the person to conduct the funeral. So I chose a non-religious celebrant and everyone was very complimentary about it. Obviously, I wrote what the celebrant delivered - I don't think anyone considered that I had, or it would have been criticised, I have no doubt - and I will say that he did deliver it beautifully, naturally, as though he actually knew the person he was talking about. We also included music from my mother's collection.

The only other item I had to chose was the colour of shroud. So I asked if they had one in beige. Yeah, I was being sarcastic, but she loved beige.

The funeral plan included both the hearse and a limo. Because of issues with neighbours (the ones who threatened and slandered me, who I didn't want turning up at the funeral, nor coming out to heap yet more abuse at a cortege), I chose not to have the hearse come to the house, but to meet us at the cemetery. 

All through her life my mother had been utterly incapable of being ready on time. So much so that, if they were going out somewhere, my father would tell her to be ready half an hour earlier than needed. He knew it was the only way she would ever even approach punctuality. So, we got to the cemetery in the limo and had to wait for the hearse. Yep, she was late for her own funeral.

At which point I disolved into fits of giggles. As you do.

For the same reason of not wanting abusive, disrespecting people at the house, I did not arrange a wake and didn't want to be at home in case anyone turned up expecting one, so I and a couple of friends went down the pub and raised a glass. If my mother had been there, I'm sure she'd have been happy with that.

On the morning of the funeral, additionally, it became clear that a group of mother's work colleagues thought the “no flowers” request I'd communicated was my choice, and therefore they were going to totally disregard it. Why would they do that, unless they'd been 'trained' by her to disbelieve and disregard me? Would they have disregarded a similar request from anyone else's family? Absolutely not. It was only once I'd pointed out that this was my mother's wish – which could be confirmed by her similar request for no flowers at my father's funeral that they had helped out on – that they finally seemed prepared to do as requested. 

For the record, after living in Spain for 16 years, where the norm at funerals is for masses of huge floral tributes, if I were to have imposed my preference, it would have been to have had as many bright and cheerful flowers as possible to lift the spirits of the day. But it wasn't about me and, despite our history, I actually did everything my mother had wanted and followed her plans to the letter.

The flowers I had placed on the coffin should have been the only ones, according to her wishes, and were a very deliberate choice of the nearest to the roses that she'd had in her bridal bouquet. It was what she had chosen for my father's funeral and most significant to her, which she had often mentioned. 

It was also deliberate that they were just a simple, un-arranged spray. My mother's flower arranging and floristry work was outstanding, so I was not about to insult her by giving her someone else's, inevitably inferiorly, arranged flowers. 

But there were lots of arranged flowers for her at the cemetery, so lots of people had ignored the request after all - my mother wanted donations to go to Cancer Research instead, just as she had asked for, and got, for my father's funeral - but because of the lies she had spread about me, people disregarded her wish. 

She was, deservedly, hoisted by her own petard in the end.

ME Symptom Diary: November 2011

Monday, 7 Nov 2011

Yet another explosive attack of IBS this morning. What began, as ever, as a seemingly normal 'bathroom visit' – there is never any prior warning or indication – became a lengthy marathon with contractions/spasms and pain increasing in intensity until it made me cry out, involuntarily. By that point I was in so much pain I was feeling faint and thought I would pass out and fall off the loo! That’s not to mention the smell and the mess – you are so lucky there’s no ‘smellyvision’ – which make it impossible to even contemplate getting ‘caught short’ with this in a public or work place. The ordeal left me feeling weak and unwell and required me to lie flat for much of the day, until I had to go out, to keep a counselling appointment, in the afternoon – I'd rather have not gone out.

Tuesday, 8 Nov 2011

Yesterday’s outing took it out of me on top of the IBS attack, so much of today I had to rest. Was collected and taken out to a local group this evening and watched an interesting and informative film, but a couple of hours in an upright chair left my legs, back and neck in very severe pain that, later, prevented me from getting comfortable in bed and getting to sleep. When I did sleep, I woke up again early. Allodynia pain has flared up so much, making it too painful to put my feet in direct contact with the bed sheets. Yet again, this is too high a price to pay. 

Wednesday, 9 Nov 2011

Still felt unwell and tired. Woke stiff, but in less pain than I expected. Was not able to do much physically, but did finish writing some letters that have been waiting – for a day when I had the energy and cognitive capabilities - since September and took those and a couple of parcels to the Post Office. Phoned ‘former family friend’ – to not name this person – to cancel their intended (their intention) visit, which he turned into an argument. It’s clear he is not about to let facts get in the way of his ill-informed opinions (those only based on my mother’s lies). As the call was ended abruptly, I will need to defend myself in writing, but otherwise, want no contact with this person. It was a most unpleasant exchange, but I feel more sure of myself and thus less upset by his verbal attack.

Thursday, 10 Nov 2011

Difficulty waking up this morning, even though I slept reasonably for a change, which, under the circumstances, was a surprise – or, maybe not, now that I’m certain I won’t be dealing with certain bullies again. But I’m tired, strung out and nauseas. Having to push myself to eat. Neck pain and stiffness, with that grinding, crunching of bones sound, is particularly bad today. Felt sick, shaky and feverish after eating breakfast and had to lie down. Migraine headache building.

(Once more, too unwell to continue symptom diary on a regular basis.)

Thursday, 24 Nov 2011

Only slept about 4 hours last night, so woke up very tired and strung out. Received some post and deliveries, but was unable to move anything and just left all the items where they were (often do this with shopping). By mid-afternoon, I simply could not do anything, other than lie down, dozing. Yet another nose bleed.

Friday, 25 Nov 2011

Woke up in pain. My bones feel like they’ve been replaced with freezer ice as they're burning (like an Ice Burn) and my muscles are achy, taught and powerless. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I had polio. (Myalgic encephalomyelitis was called atypical polio - or polio by another name. Not surprised.) For some time this morning I really couldn’t make my limbs move, despite being desperate for the loo. Sore throat and very swollen glands. Knees feel swollen. All joints are clicking painfully. Food and coffee made me feel sick. Walking to the loo made me exhausted and shake from the exertion. Feverish headache and light is painful to my eyes. Legs and back are too painful even to allow me to sit. No choice but to lie down, even though I need (and want) to be doing things in the house. 

Saturday, 26 Nov 2011

Woke up with severe headache and nausea. Eating breakfast only made the latter worse. Catarrh, sore throat, and an ‘itch’ in my ears (like with an infection). Feel like I’m getting flu, although likely this is Post-exertional malaise (PEM).

Monday, 28 Nov 2011

Woke with a sore throat and a banging, feverish headache again. Joints very sore. 

(These are the last entries in the diary.)

ME Symptom Diary: March 2011

Tuesday, 1 Mar 2011

Woke up feeling like I hadn’t been to sleep. Sore throat and feverishness; burning, gnawing pain in my right hip; have a really bad headache with shooting pains right up the right-hand side of my head and that is not responding to 440g of Naproxen. Hot and cold like flu symptoms too. Neck pain worse again, probably from lifting and pulling the trolley with the portly feline yesterday.

Wednesday, 2 Mar 2011

Awake half the night – woke up at 1:30am, then again shortly after 3am – when I was then wide awake. Played games and watched TV waiting to get sleepy again, but it wasn’t until 7:30am that I was able to get back to sleep again. So then slept until mid-day, but woke up feeling like I’d been run over by a truck. My entire body is utterly fatigued, feels heavy and sluggish. It’s taking supreme effort just to get to the kitchen and back. Pain in my lower legs is increasing again. Also woke up with a severe, pounding headache. Dare not take any further pain relief, as that a) doesn’t work and b) has once again made me severely constipated, adding to the pain. Have also got a sore throat again and the patch of tender skin on my right foot is especially sensitive.

Thursday, 3 Mar 2011

Actually slept through the night! Woke up only averagely knackered with mild to middling aches and pains all over. Also seem to have half a brain today, but am resisting the temptation to resume activities, because it would soon take me back to agony and exhaustion. But, have been able to make a couple of short phone calls and answer some messages. Spoke too soon … by lunch time, as soon as I got up, I felt light-headed and unsteady, so back to the default position (reclining), rather than fall on the floor again, which is what would happen if I were to push myself. Also experienced some chest pain again, I thought it best to remain resting to prevent that becoming worse. Chased the chemist over prescription delivery. It seems they had judged me fit and not worthy! 

Friday, 4 Mar 2011

Slept, but had been dreaming so vividly and busily, I woke up absolutely knackered from all the activity. My knees are particularly uncomfortable today, as well as the usual neck, hips and the rest. Burning and tingling in hip again. Extreme nausea and physical fatigue. Feel like my back is broken and cannot manage to sit up without listing and need carefully placed cushions to support me, yet it is now even painful and difficult to move those cushions into position.

Saturday, 5 Mar 2011

Woke up fatigued and achy, but a better day than of late. Actually the first not-so-bad day of the year so far, which is not that great.

Sunday, 6 Mar 2011

Really couldn’t wake up this morning. Feel like I’ve been flattened by that proverbial 10 ton truck again; limbs heavy like lead, movement feels like it’s through molten concrete, dragging a heavy weight. Snuffly and achy with cold.

Monday, 7 Mar 2011

Had to get up early, which took supreme effort. Really needed more sleep and found it difficult to get out of bed, but had to take the boy [Balu] back to the vet again. Could not stand at the bus stop and had to sit on the roadside, as I felt dizzy, light-headed and sick. Every step of walking hurt – like a knife stabbing into my hip joint. Got home exhausted with burning pain right down my right thigh. Knees ache. Back feels broken. Neck pain off the scale. Mega headache. Really couldn’t do anything in the afternoon and had to lie down until beyond 7pm. Had to fight to stay awake until a reasonable time to try to avoid starting a cycle of insomnia. Lasted only until 9pm is and couldn’t even concentrate on banal TV.

Tuesday, 8 Mar 2011

Woke up early, long before 8am, though I dozed again, but had slept very lightly all night and woke up with tired, sore eyes and feeling strung out like I’d pulled an all-nighter. Hip pain is unbearable again, as is neck pain, mostly from the cold and the jolting of the bus and just having spent some time not reclined and supported. Knees stiff and sore from the walking yesterday and back still feels broken.

Wednesday, 9 Mar 2011

Lyrica [Pregabalin], which I started on Monday night with just 25mg once a day, rather than the twice a day as prescribed, because of my tendency to to have severe reactions to drugs, totally knocked me out last night. Slept heavier than normal, but had to remove a 10 ton elephant off me before I could move this morning. So, either I can’t function because of pain and poor sleep, or I can’t function because I’m drugged up to the eyeballs. 

GROSS ALERT: Discovered a small piece of loose scab and removed it from inside my navel. This is the first time this raw, sore incision – from a laparoscopy in 1986 - has ever formed a scab in 25 years, which gives you an idea of what I really mean when I say that I heal very slowly.

Thursday, 10 Mar 2011

Slept too heavily last night and woke up in much more pain and stiffness than usual, neck pain particularly. Site of scar on navel VERY sore today and constantly itching.

Friday, 11 Mar 2011

Major attack of IBS this morning with considerable pain. As usual, as soon as I thought I’d finished, along came another ‘contraction’ and off it went again. Was on the loo for 45-60 minutes. This left me feeling weak, exhausted and unwell. Stomach as sore as if it had been kicked and bruised. [As ever, any pain medication causes constipation and my system gets into a vicious cycle of boom and bust and the end result is more pain, not less. It seems a pointless exercise to me.] Tried some ‘easy’ isometric (not moving) exercises for my neck. Kept it to just 3 repetitions, holding just for seconds, but this still caused an awful increase in pain around my neck and shoulders.

Saturday, 12 Mar 2011

Felt crap again [pun intended]. Had to get up in the night, but also woke up too early, despite still being very tired. Can’t stop yawning. Joints stiff and painful. Hip burning. Dizzy every time I stand up.

Sunday, 13 Mar 2011

Pretty crap again. Weather humid, so stiffness increased, stabbing pains in joints, as well as their usual soreness. Headache and pain in left kidney that always resurfaces any time I’m particularly tired.

Monday, 14 Mar 2011

Woke early, but feeling like it was mid-day – this is probably because of the mornings getting lighter, so I must see about doing more to black out the room, or I’ll spend the whole summer with severe sleep problems again. Also had very vivid, active dreams again, so I woke up feeling physically tired from all the “exertion”. Very achy, especially in my knees. Severe burning pain in hip and thigh again. Had to take the cat back to the vet again for a check up and hurt myself badly trying to carry him on my back. Had to ask for a glass of water in the vet as I felt so unwell. Severe neck pain. Was unable to move once I got home.

Tuesday, 15 Mar 2011

Woke up early again. Pain and numbness in hands and feet. Neck pain WAY off the scale from yesterday’s exertion. Today was the first day of taking Lyrica [Pregabalin] in the day time. It made me totally spaced out and unable to stand up. Had to spend the entire day laying down because of this and because of post-exertional malaise. Fell asleep in the afternoon and did not wake up until early evening. Reaction is not quite as bad as it had been with Gabapentin, but I still don’t see the point of spending life as a zombie, for little or no benefits. Pain in my legs is still utterly unbearable and this seems to be an effect of the Lyrica reported by others (which again, seems to render it counter-productive).

Wednesday, 16 Mar 2011

Woke up early again, stiff and with pain and numbness in my hands and feet again. Once more, felt knackered before I start – I mean, I always foo, but more so than normal – and before I took the Lyrica again in the morning. Once I had taken it, I was a non-functioning zombie yet again with no choice but to lie down and hope to stay awake until a reasonable time. Pain and stiffness in my knees and ankles at night was particularly bad. The Lyrica also seems to be making me constipated again and has increased stomach pain.

Thursday, 17 Mar 2011

Another crappy day: Woke up tired and stiff, but wasn’t so bad until I took Lyrica. Since then I can hardly stay awake and am very light-headed, staggering and swaying whenever I get up. Pain in neck and shoulders is still unbearable except when relined, supported. Tried to open a bottle of vinegar, but did not have the strength and this caused severe, shooting pains up into my neck. Earlier had brushed cat and swept a small area of carpet, but had to lie down afterwards and was sweating profusely and shaking from the exertion, which took until late morning to subside. Hands and wrists painful again. Writing hurts particularly today. Have mystery inflamed scratch on left arm that I don’t remember getting. Burning pain in hip and upper thigh again.

Friday, 18 Mar 2011

Forgot to take medication until late last night, so couldn’t get to sleep. Woke later than I have been doing, in compensation, but woke with the mother of all headaches, with terrible neck pain and extreme nausea. Had to lie down as this was unbearable and it also made me extremely sensitive to light – if I looked towards the window or computer screen it made me even more nauseas. The headache only began to go in the afternoon. Had to go to the local Post Office, but because of the “stupefying” effects of the Lyrica, I was swaying and staggering around the streets like a drunk, being absent-minded and getting in people’s way in the shop and also found it difficult to make my purchases, count money, etc. Felt very confused and vulnerable. As well as being intolerable, this is too dangerous and I won't be leaving the house under these conditions again.

Saturday, 19 Mar 2011

Didn’t get to sleep until around 3:30am and today my knees feel like they’ve walked a couple of miles or that I’ve not been to sleep at all and are so painful and clicking and feel as if they’re swollen. Had to keep stretching my legs out in bed as they cramped up in pain. House cold again, so my thighs went into spasm as soon as I went to the kitchen – this usually only happens out doors in winter temperatures. Neck still too painful to sit unsupported. Ankles, like knees are stiff and clicking. Hip pain with nerves burning again.

Sunday, 20 Mar 2011

Yesterday, put my hands down beside me to push myself up into sitting position and my left wrist just gave way and bent back on itself with a mighty crack. Super-mega painful. Today the pain is worse and I have no power in it. Can’t lift coffee cup or turn a tap. (Can’t put support on wrist as it caused my skin to split last week.) Neck painful, as usual. Dizzy on sitting up, as well as standing.

Monday, 21 Mar 2011

Eating breakfast, my entire face hurt. Stiff, painful and tired when I woke up. Although pain generally helped by Voltarol (Diclofenac) gel, there’s a sharp, stabbing pain in my left wrist if I try to use it, even to try to type even a few words. I also have a severe headache and a sore throat again. Put one load of laundry in the washing machine and a packet mix into the bread machine and just these minor activities in combination with making breakfast (cereal) and going to the loo (not even washing) have caused me to shake from the “exertion”. This is along with extreme nausea and overheating with excessive sweating. Had to lie down with the fan on for most of the rest of the day to try to subdue this.

Tuesday, 22 Mar 2011

Had trouble getting to sleep last night. Still woke early this morning: too early, not enough sleep to be functional and feel so tired that I’m already fighting to stay awake and semi-upright. Woke with headache, backache, neck ache and a burning, aching, twinging in my hip, thigh and right down my right leg. Ankles and feet also painful. Then I got a sharp, shooting pain in my left chest – severe enough to require breathing to control it. Pain in the wrist still stabbing too, which is made worse if I try to use it, which is pretty much any movement at all. Had an appointment with Dorset Pain Management Service today. Walk to the station was excruciating: sharp pain in my hip every time I put my foot to the floor. Arrived sweating and fatigued, balance gone and unable to walk straight. Noticed that I was listing towards the edge of the platform and staggered involuntarily. [This has to place me in danger from falling, as well as from attack / abuse from people who will perceive me as drunk.] On the plus side, the meeting with Mrs Das was good: she does not think I need psych help [Well, nor did I for pain / fibromyalgia / ME]. She says I’m balanced and have my life in order! 

Wednesday, 23 Mar 2011

Pain, especially in my legs, kept me awake last night and got me up early this morning. [As is always the case when I’ve had to go out and have walked any distance.] Possibly the worst pain I have ever experienced after an outing and certainly the most generalised. Impossible to describe, but overall aching, with a feeling that every single joint is swollen and every single muscle is pulled, with random shooting pains in muscles, joints and head. Headache, sore throat, feverishness. Back and neck are both in major pain. [You’re not missing the irony here that this was from an outing to a Pain Management Clinic?] Today had an appointment for a Counselling Assessment (it wouldn’t have been my choice to have them on consecutive days), so I got a taxi there. Appointment went well, but was emotionally very tiring. Walked back to the town centre, but this was really too far for me and served to wipe me out entirely. Once I got home, I ceased up entirely.

Thursday, 24 Mar 2011

Woke up too early – because of the pain – after dreaming too vividly during what seemed to be very light and non-restorative sleep. Headache, overall pain, burning aching and stiffness. Feel too tired to undertake any activity today. Even just standing up makes me dizzy, exhausted and nauseas. Was still dizzy and nauseas lying down. Had to make myself a nest of pillows [more like a padded cell] because I felt like I was falling, even when I was lying flat and wasn’t moving. Couldn’t even watch TV, because the moving pictures gave me a headache and made me feel sea-sick. Went to sleep in the afternoon and didn’t wake up until 7:30pm, but still managed to sleep through the night. Pain levels remained high, but I was so exhausted, I was able to sleep through them. Also had feverishness and a sore throat – took a flu powder to hopefully help reduce these symptoms.

Friday, 25 Mar 2011

All the usual aches and stiffness and woke up too early, too tired, yet again. One source of additional discomfort is that I have become constipated again. Considering the amount of fruit and vegetables I eat, plus psyllium husk supplements, this is a considerable worry, as well as a major discomfort. As well as generating more headaches, I am always aware of an increase in overall aching and stiffness, as though my body is harbouring poison (toxins), which, I guess, is pretty much what it is doing. Became too tired to do anything even remotely constructive quite early in the day.

Saturday, 26 Mar 2011

Didn’t get to sleep until 5am. Was very tired and strung out, but just did not feel sleepy. Only went to sleep in the end, because I was utterly exhausted. Woke up around 10am, which is not enough sleep, in a lot of pain. From experience, I know that I could crash very painfully and quickly once I have reached this state, so I know it’s important that I pace myself very carefully to avoid a long-term crash. Had another mega IBS attack. [Always follows a few days of constipation, which is why I work very hard to avoid it and the boom and bust cycle.] At one point I nearly blacked out – my vision certainly greyed out and I became light-headed – from the severe pain.

Sunday, 27 Mar 2011

Feel like I’ve got a fever with gripping headache, sore throat, going hot and cold, heightened aches and pains (in BOTH hips and burning in thighs), light-headed, dizzy and unsteady on standing, with extreme nausea and shaking, as if from exertion. Last night was drifting in and out of consciousness, with waves of overheating, pain and nausea. Had to breathe to keep control of it, but it was so bad, I really thought I might need emergency help. Feel really unwell today. Had to get on the floor in the kitchen, because I nearly blacked out again. Light-headedness continued all day. Could not sit up because of this level of sickness and because of severe pain in back and legs.

Monday, 28 Mar 2011

Slept better last night with both Lyrica [Pregabalin] and Melatonin (supplement), but pain levels still high in neck, back, legs, feet and wrists. Headache is intermittent [that’s a rare and distinct improvement]. On Jan 8th, I wrote that I wanted to change the bed, clean my room and sort my wardrobe. I am YET to do this and haven’t yet had a day where I could stand or had the energy to do so. And today isn’t going to be that day either. Whilst I'm able to accept that this is just the way it is and it would not worry me alone that the mess is, inevitably, building up, once more I am being put under pressure, because my mother makes a point of being disapproving. She isn’t able to – or does not wish to – comprehend that I simply cannot do what she wants, when she wants, just because she wants it. And making that obvious, constantly, does nothing whatsoever to help.

Tuesday, 29 Mar 2011

Woke up in pain from head to toe. Cannot stop yawning. Otherwise, didn’t start off as such a bad day, relatively. Walked round to the local Post Office in the afternoon and, once again, felt dizzy and had trouble keeping balance and walking in a straight line. Fell asleep as soon as I got home.

Wednesday, 30 Mar 2011

Woke too early, too tired to concentrate. Pain in neck, hip and legs very bad again, made worse because of humidity (rain). Stiffness and shooting pains – random and in joints and / or muscles. Snuffles and sore throat and general feverishness as if I was going down with something, like flu. This is getting more and more frequent and although there are (as usual) no outward signs, I feel so unwell that all I can do is lie down to control it and wait for it to improve (hopefully). By mid-afternoon, I was even unable to recline. Constipated again! Don’t seem to have been able to get back to any normal (normal for me anyway) routine since Christmas.

Thursday, 31 Mar 2011

Woke up tired, achy and just feeling unwell – headache, feeling sick and queasy, feverish and trembling (that brain shaking in the head feeling), all of which is difficult to describe, but I can only cope with if I lie down. Once again, after a couple of days of being constipated, a massive attack of IBS this morning. Pain wasn’t quite as bad this time, but still required me to pant / breathe to deal with the strong contractions, like someone giving birth. Waves of malaise – which I can only say feel like waves of poison in my body – made me feel worse. At a couple of points, my vision narrowed in and I began to grey out and I felt myself swaying as I almost, momentarily, lost consciousness. As ever, the whole ordeal (onslaught, genuinely felt like I’d been attacked), left me feeling weak, tired and utterly wiped out. And, despite all this, had to go out to a counselling appointment in the afternoon.

Duvet days are necessary rest not laziness

Duvet days are often necessary rest

"Today I'm in so much pain I just want to cry because nothing will mitigate it. The pain is so bad I feel sick. My head hurts. I feel like I have a fever. It hurts to rest my hands on the laptop to type this and it's taking me ages as I type just one or two phrases at a time, then it's too painful to continue or my mind loses the plot and I forget what I wanted to say. My arms feel heavy and weak, my neck and shoulders feel pulled, my back feels broken, the pain in my hip is more than I can bear, my knees feel swollen and it hurts to walk on them, the muscles down my back and legs feel pulled, making it hard to get up off the bed - but my wrists and arms can’t push me either - and it’s painful even to sit on the loo. My feet feel raw as if they’re blistered and have no skin on them and it's painful even to rest them on the surface of the bed. Every time I get up, my joints click and bang painfully, I feel more nauseous and hot and thirsty; I shake from the “exertion” of just getting to the kitchen and back and I feel totally exhausted." 

Just taking some light packages round to the post office caused this. This happens at least once a week and the effects can last for days, when the only thing I can do is lie down and rest and wait and save up my energies for the next outing.

My mother calls this “lying around” and even told the neighbours that, because that’s what they accused me of doing, when they accosted me and verbally abused me in the street. (And later threatened me with violence.) 

My mother thinks that I “lay around” deliberately for no genuine reason, because she is a narcissist [1] who has spent her entire life wheedling, manipulating and exploiting people and situations so she could get away with putting in the least amount of effort possible - in other words, by being lazy. It became obvious that she's judging me on her standards and projecting her own faults onto me.

She refused to read the information I gave her about fibromyalgia and ME/CFS, but then tried to excuse her ignorance, by saying that she did not understand what these illnesses were. When I said that the only thing I’d ever done wrong was to not complain enough so that she would understand, she jumped, eagerly, on my words and declared that this was it: it was all my fault.

Funnily enough, I don’t blame her for not “seeing” my disability, because in that sense she's only the same as the majority. Most people, if they don’t see a wheelchair and permanent paralysis or a missing limb, fail to see any disability. But we’re not talking about people who are only unaware when they pass an invisibly disabled person in the street, we’re talking about her own daughter. 

The evidence was there under her nose, she just chose not to see it.

Even if she didn't understand my illness, she could have asked. But she didn’t, she rushed to make wrong assumptions and then told people a bunch of untruths based on those false assumptions and when those people heard those things, that they assumed were true - which says they’re no better than her for accepting a one-sided view, without checking for themselves – but then they advised her against me, attacked and bullied me, based on that false information. She succeeded in creating conflict that made her the centre of attention. 

She also decided that I must be lying. It was an accusation she screamed and shouted at me, whenever she had either forgotten or chosen to forget something dreadful that I reminded her she’d said and she then tried to deny. 

It took me over 50 years to realise that she lied, constantly, pathologically.

When she finally seemed to accept that I've felt ill for years, the best response she could come up with when I've mentioned a particular symptom is to say that she has the same (or worse, naturally). No she doesn't. If she did, she’d be constantly whining about it. She certainly wouldn't be able to work two mornings a week, go shopping several times a week, do her own gardening and housework, all of which she does, only slightly slowed by the fact that she's 87. She simply won't allow me to be ill. She is ill, of course, and believes herself entitled to the best treatment and sympathy, just no-one else is … It would detract from her.

And to make her point even more pointedly, whenever we're in the same room – when she remembers – she huffs and puffs and makes moaning noises and grabs hold of the furniture and pretends not to be able to walk terribly well unaided. Strangely, when she thinks I'm asleep or can't see or hear her from my room, she does none of this. When she's outside or in other parts of the house, I hear her perfectly normal footsteps and the total lack of moaning or heavy breathing. 

She walks just fine out in the street. Hilarious how she seems oblivious to the fact that I’ve seen her there. All I can see and hear is an attention seeking child. 

At other times, when I mention how ill I feel, she will say nothing and walk away, offer no sympathy and no help. Won't even bring me water when I’m thirsty.

She once told me that, had she had the choice, she would not have had children. But, of course, she later denied having ever said that, like she denies saying anything that she KNOWS is horrible. It was no doubt deliberate and she probably thought that saying that she didn’t want kids would be hurtful to me, though curiously, it wasn’t. Some people are not cut out to have kids and shouldn’t be allowed to hurt and abuse them and she is one of those people.

Most galling, but also the most pathetic aspect, is her total abdication of responsibility: her false and ridiculous assertion that she did not have a choice. Of course she had a choice, even if that choice meant not having a marriage as she seemed to infer would have been the result of this so-called non-choice. (I’m sure it wasn’t as I’m sure she had my father well and truly manipulated.) But even it that were true, if not having a kid was so important to her, she’d have chosen that. But no, she chose insure her meal ticket, by dutifully producing a sprog, despite not wanting to do so and then trying to fool everyone, including herself, into believing that it’s somebody else’s fault that she became a “victim.” 

The victim card is one she continues to play. No one thinks the sweet older woman can be vindictive, menacing, and ruthless. Nor do people expect mothers to be so self-centred that they are willing to abuse their own children.

[1] I'm not bandying the term narcissist about, as seems fashionable. This is a professional opinion that has been discussed in a clinical setting. I also have evidence from conversation with my mother to believe that either she has been diagnosed, or at the very least, accused of it to her face by another person.

Total Lack of Empathy

Empathy

Last night I had to lie down because I felt ill. I'd had a couple of nights lighter on sleep than normal and, as a result, my eyes were even more sore and weepy than usual. I tried to watch TV, but even that proved too much, so, despite having had an afternoon nap, by 8 p.m., I couldn't even sit up because I felt lightheaded, nauseous, hot and cold and so dizzy I needed to cling onto the floor.

So I lay down and went to sleep. I slept, more or less, right through 12 hours, until 8 a.m. this morning, when the cats wanted breakfast. I forced myself out of bed, because I needed to the loo mostly, to feed them and get my own breakfast. Even though I didn't really want to eat, I knew hunger would make the symptoms worse. Besides, I've had 15+ years practice at forcing food down me, even when I feel dreadfully nauseous. Most people wouldn't. I did this as quickly as possible, so I could get back to bed, because I feel absolutely crap.

As well as general malaise and unbelievably awful level of nausea, today I'm shaking like someone who's had too much caffeine (I haven't); I ache in muscles, bones and joints; I feel like I have the flu (I don't); I have a feverish headache and I can't even sit up in bed, because I don't even have the strength to support my own head. Any stimulus, including noise, makes it worse. I need the light in the room to be relatively dim. The only way I can keep the desire to throw up down to just bearable, is to not move, so all I can do is to lie as still as possible.

But my mother didn't like it because I did not respond enthusiastically to her as she was wittering on about something that had absolutely no relevance to me - that she'd burst into my room uninvited to do. She thinks I'm rude and wrong for not being interested in this and storms off in a huff, slamming the door loudly, as though she's been affronted. It's not the first time, by far. She knows what I have wrong with me. I've given her enough literature that, by now, she must have a fair idea of the general symptoms. She certainly knows that my symptoms NEVER go away, but can get worse. It doesn't even occur to her that I might be feeling too ill to be interested. Narcissists and psychopaths lack empathy.

Cruelty to Children

As this spoof NewsBiscuit story infers, in Britain, one can become snowed under by a deluge of charity collection bags. Far too many for even the most wasteful, compulsive consumer to fill.

So, I know these bags can seem like a bit of a nuisance, but I was frankly shocked and appalled by my mother's reaction to one. The collection bag was from the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (NSPCC), whom I feel are a perfectly worthy cause. It's always saddened me that such an organization is needed in a supposedly civilised world, which probably indicates that we're not civilized at all. 

Anyway, as she read who it was from, she spelled "N, S, P, C" out loud to herself, missing off the final C, but there was no doubt who it was from.

Then she declared, gruffly, "Oh, I can't stand them", hastily screwed it up and threw it away. There was really notable venom and anger in the way she did it too. The fact that my upbringing can be described by the NSPCC's definition of emotional abuse couldn't possibly have anything to do with it? 

A load of old rubbish

Because I've been replacing stuff and buying new items since I got to the UK - some are to try to make life a bit easier dealing with the fibro, etc., others are because I had almost no clothes after 16 years, the last decade of which I had very little money and, as I'd lost all my good clothes to the various floods and damp in the ramshackle house I was renting - I'm now starting to clear out my old junk. Starting: I did a bit - enough to make a mess - last Saturday, but I just cant stand long enough. Then I twisted my ankle and could barely hobble for days ... it's gonna take ages.

Anyway, I put charity shop stuff in a clear (recycling) bag, because I need to be able to see what I've put where, since this is going to take so long and because I have fibromyalgia. You know, fibro fog. I therefore need to make this as easy for myself as I can. Mother will get this to sort into stuff to sell in the charity shop (where she works) and what's not good enough to go to the rag and bone man. It doesn't have to leave the house, or even my room, in that bag. No, that was wrong: she wanted it put in a black sack now. I refused. I explained, but her blank expression was as if she couldn't hear, as it wasn't what she wanted. Never mind that this was for my needs. My needs never count for anything.

Then I'd put proper rubbish in the proper bin, as you do and this included snotty tissues and used sanitary items. She began to rifle through this for paper that could go in the recycling (there was one envelope - didn't seem worth it), because she says she's "trying to cut down the amount of rubbish we throw out." She claims we're only allowed to throw out one black sack of rubbish and says the council are about to change to fortnightly collections, making it worse.

She was getting really worked up and sounded panicky about it. From the tone, however, I was sure she'd just made that up. (There may be other reasons why she wants to rifle through my trash: she's been doing it ever since I got here.) Anyway, every week she seems to spend more and more time faffing about rubbish and recycling. Her worry defies logic and has become totally ridiculous.

Of course, I could leave her to think whatever she likes, but the point is that she gives me earache with loads of totally invented rules about what I can and can't throw out and, when and where, that even just the stress of listening to it is beginning to impact. Naturally, I'm not about to start doing things that are not needed, but if I don't, I get another load of earache, so unless I want these arguments to continue, I have to do something to put an end to them.

Worries over the quantity of rubbish are not new and I've tried to tell her time and time again that compared to average consumers, we buy and throw out practically nothing in this house. Much of the food we buy is fresh, we avoid packaging and bags wherever possible and, there are only two of us. I'd told her to think it through: what do people with 4, or 6 or more in the family, for instance, do? They are bound to make much more rubbish than us. Bleedin' obvious, init? But no, it doesn't matter how many times I say this.

So I thought I'd ring the council for a clarification on these points. Then I thought, no I won't, I'll email them, then I'll have a reply in writing that I can print off and give to her. Of course, the council confirm that they have no plans at all to swap to fortnightly collections and, they say that we can put out as many black sacks as we like. So I printed both the email and reply and handed it to her!

"Well, now that I know, officially," she replies, hoity-toity.

The email said exactly what I'd already said to her over and over. Is she never going to believe a word I say? (Rhetorical question!) She says you used to be only able to put out one bag: that she'd had a letter about it "years ago". I won't waste my time asking the council, because I'm sure that's not true. Then she thanked me for doing it, because, she then says, "it was two or three of the women on the bus" who were spreading the false information. Wasn't her, of course!

Mothereeze

Today's gem (there's one similar every day.) Before I went out (a medical appointment), I showered, naturally. While I was out, as usual, I suffered dreadful hot flushes, where sweat was running down my face and plastering my hair to my head and I came home with my clothes sopping wet from where I'd been sweating from head to foot. I felt incredibly uncomfortable and sticky, as well as the fact that I was exhausted and aching from the whole day's events. I changed as soon as I got home and after dinner, had another shower, because I needed it.

I'd finished and come out of the bathroom when mother went to the kitchen for something, from where I heard her "stage whisper", very clearly in a somewhat gruff, huffy tone that inferred some sort of problem - "in the shower again".

So I called her on it: told her I'd heard the stage whisper and informed her - not that I need to justify my needs - that I needed to shower because a) warm water is about the only thing that helps my aches and pains (this, I've needed to reiterate 1001 times already) and b) I'd had hot flushes and came home sticky.

Then I told her if she has anything else to say, to say it to my face.

Believe me, I have good hearing and I know what gruff, low, snarky tone of voice I heard, but she tried to spin it around, claiming that she had merely "wondered" (out loud) what the noise (of the shower) was. Bullshit.

OK, I'll ignore the wondering out loud part, because we all do that. Actually, no we don't all do it in that manner. And most people, even when they do try to spin lies, try to be more plausible and less blatantly deluded. This is unreasonable, deliberate and so unnecessary and makes daily life so unpleasant.

Saturday, 16 May 2009

Around mid-morning, there was sudden loud noise from a pneumatic drill and I looked outside to see a lorry from the water company and someone digging a hole right in the centre of the end of our driveway. Only a few moments before, there'd been a knock at our front door, which my mother had answered, therefore, when the noise started I went to ask her if she knew anything about it. She feigned a look of puzzlement and claimed to know nothing whatsoever.

So I made towards the front door, saying I would go outside to see what they were doing – as you would naturally do when someone is digging a hole right in front of your driveway and it isn't for you - and I believed my action was protecting her, “the householder” – and ask why they were doing it on a Saturday. 

Only then she begged me not to do anything - truly in panic - and admitted then that she knew it was for the next door neighbour. I still wanted to know what it was, why this needed to be done in our driveway and why at the weekend with no prior warning. Then there was still the possibility that, even if she did know about it, that she might have been coerced into agreeing to something that was not necessarily in her own interests through not understanding.

Before I went outside, logically, I retrieved my front door key. My mother looked at my hand with an expression of alarm, as if she thought I'd picked up a weapon or something. It was neither the look nor the reaction of a rational person.  

Once outside, at a volume appropriate to be heard over a pneumatic drill (I was later accused of shouting), I politely asked the workman what the work was, why there in our driveway and why on a Saturday - it did not appear to be as a result of an emergency necessitating urgent weekend work. The workman told me it was because the company has a backlog. To be honest, that was still unsatisfactory, given it’s a day when people should be able to rest. Then while I was simply asking who I should contact to discuss this further, out came the neighbour.

With breath smelling strongly of alcohol (note the time of day) and using a threatening manner, he proceeded to be verbally abusive to me, constantly using the word “fucking”, ordering me to "get inside now" or he'll call the police, pushing his face to within two inches of mine. He then tells me he believes that I am not ill and accused me of laying around doing nothing, as if this is a crime. Unprovoked, out of nowhere and irrelevant to the events of the day.

Now clearly, he could not know that I “lay around” inside our house … unless my mother has been telling him that this is what she thinks I do. This would be when I'm laying down in agony and exhaustion, of course, but clearly she refuses to believe that I could ever lie down for any justifiable reason.

When this neighbour had called to the house a week or so previously, allegedly to read our gas / electric meters, I'd caught him peering into the window of my room. When I complained about this, my mother was adamant that he was only looking at the meter, but this could not have been the case, because the meter is below window height and his gaze was quite clearly straight ahead through the window, with his face virtually pressed up against the glass. He would have seen that I was lying down at that moment, but seeing me for one split second would surely not be enough for anyone to have drawn such conclusion? Indeed, logic suggests that he wouldn't have even thought to look in the window, unless someone, had told him a) which room I use and b) given him some reason to want to look. This alone makes me feel that my privacy has been abused and invaded. For this and various other reasons, I no longer open the curtains.

The wife then came out and, once again, added similar false assertions, cruelly dismissing my illness, even when told that I have a diagnosis from a specialist, in writing and thus irrefutable and then she went off on some unintelligible tangent about how my parents must love and have wanted me because “they did not put me into care.” I asked her what care had to do with anything and she gave no clear answer, but walked away. Again, her opinions and judgements can only be based only on some twisted and false information my mother has fed her.

The neighbour also spouted some rubbish about “you always stand by your parents.” Er, what the feck does she think I'm doing here then, when I could - and clearly should - have told my mother where to get off with her crap years ago? Then she made a very serious false accusation: that since I've come back to the UK, I've been killing my mother. Mother claims she is “only just alive” and is portraying herself as the victim. This is common amongst abusers. 

The drunk from next door then said – still only about two inches from my face - that he did not care if I was a woman, if I didn't go indoors immediately (as if he thinks he has some right to bully me and dictate where I am permitted to go), he would … and then he threatened to punch me. Whilst I made great effort to remain calm and stand unmoved under this unprovoked attack, all three; the husband, the wife and my own mother all accused me of needing “mental help” - my mother was screaming this like a banshee - in front of the two workmen.

The husband then said he'd been told about things I have written about them. This is not true. I've written on my blog – necessarily to create a dated record - about the day when I was verbally attacked, unjustifiably and slanderously, in front of another neighbour, in the middle of the street. I haven't named anyone in the report, so if this neighbour thinks it's about them, it can only be because they believe they're guilty. And I told him so. He shut up then. Since what I wrote is true, my conscience would be entirely clear even if had named them.

At one point, my mother had taken one of the workmen by the arm to tell him to “take no notice”. Bearing in mind that I'd merely enquired why this job needed to be done on a Saturday and, while doing so, a male neighbour, his wife and my mother (behaving like a mad woman): all three began verbally attacking and threatening me and bringing up personal matters of my health, my alleged laziness, accusing me of needing “mental help”, etc., which to any onlooker will have seemed unprovoked and out of nowhere, one wonders what he will have thought he should take no notice of? My mother's ham acting, putting her hands to her head, wailing and pretending to be the mentally injured party, perhaps?

Sunday, 10 May 2009

Love this pair almost more than life itself.

Mother knows that the cats don't like her. They cower and even run away from their food if she's in the kitchen. What can I say? They're cats: they're not stupid and capable of assessing people for themselves, but of course she wilfully refuses to see why this is, or to alter her behaviour in any way to improve relations. 

Besides, you simply can't win cats over by constantly approaching them and talking loudly at them. You have to let them come to you. She won't and then, when they (understandably) shun her, she gets angry and huffy and makes it worse.

You also don't win cats, dogs, or for that matter, human beings either, by treating them as nuisances before they even start and by telling them off for every damn thing they do. Whatever these poor cats do is wrong, wherever they go is wrong and they are yelled at (even when they aren't doing anything wrong) instead of being shown, loved and encouraged when they do good things.

Suddenly realised that's exactly how she’s treated me as a child and all my life.

Most rooms are kept closed to them, because she's decided they'll cause destruction and mayhem – that's more likely if they're kept to a very confined space and not allowed to explore. If a door is temporarily left open and they merely go for a harmless sniff round, they're immediately meet with a loud, hostile and panicky reaction that – naturally – spooks them even more.

The clearest example is whenever mother hears the sound of a cat scratching. She doesn't think to check - just in case - that the cat is actually scratching where it should be scratching, in the litter box (the sound is different, but she cannot discern this), so she immediately screams (yes, screams), “Oy, oy, oy”.

Just what is that teaching the confused cats? The damage is done and she simply will not be told that this is wrong. To her fantasy logic, this telling off is justified and brushed off as unimportant, because at other times the cat is wrong.  

Today, she was rattling dishes she was taking out of the dishwasher, which she knows worries the cats and sends them running to hide. She also knew I was outside with both cats, because she'd watched me go out with them. She's seen this enough times that she knows they're already nervous enough about it. So she chose that very moment to do this job – at best, totally unthinking and a typical example of how, what she wants, she does, disregarding everything else.

Because of this, the cats got even more nervous. I've worked bloody hard – with calm and patience, love and encouragement - for 11 months, trying to get them to feel comfortable enough so that, at the very least, if they were outside and did not feel happy, their instinctive reaction should be to run INTO the house and not to bolt away from it, but we never seem to make real progress.

The eventual aim (though, truthfully, I give up on ever attaining it now) was to be able to let them go out so that they could get some exercise and play and be normal and, hopefully, happy cats. But every time they seem to be getting used to it, mother does something (thoughtless or deliberate?), which effectively wipes out all of the benefit of the months and months of hard work I've put in.

You're going to say it isn't deliberate, but I've been making that excuse for her for 52 years and it just doesn't stand up to the scrutiny of logic and reason. (And in typing that last exasperated sentence, I can hear my father talking.) 

So, instead of coming towards the house and happily coming in the door, Balu heard the noise and started backing up, trying to escape his harness. Because I had both cats, this was difficult to handle and I had to act quickly and decisively: I threw my voice so that I would be heard clearly – for the very good reason that my mother cannot hear her TV unless it's blaring (so loudly I can still hear it the other side of the house, through 2 closed doors and with headphones) and cannot hear things like the doorbell or the phone, unless they're next to her, etc.

But, of course, if I merely enunciate clearly, apparently, I'm shouting.

I'd had to get her to stop making the noise with the dishes for a moment to get the cats in – and I had to quickly impress upon her that it had to be immediate – which, without an assertive tone, she would have paid absolutely no attention to at all and would most likely (based on previous experience) have argued it unnecessary - specifying it was because I could not get the cats to come in and one was trying to pull out of his harness. She understands the implication.  

She damn well knew all of this without me saying a word.

But instead of quiet and swift (in)action, what I got back, was an argument and a bloody diatribe. I was snapped at and told not to shout. It was needed. Of course, she claimed she was right. She argued that she'd stopped making the noise, but, of course, she'd replaced it with the noise and stress of arguing instead.

I was lucky this time, as I managed to get both cats in without too much more upset, but this was the third time recently that she's done something similar that she knows will upset them; coming to the door just as we're approaching; coming out into the garden for no reason just as we're heading back, all three times when I have both cats out together, which she knows is harder than one.

Coincidences? Well, I have never believed in those. 

Ignorantly thoughtless or wilfully malicious? I'll let the jury decide.

Whatever it is, it means I can no longer risk taking the cats out when she's at home. And it is breaking my heart that they are stressed unnecessarily.

Extreme Food Budgeting

Let me show you a real, tangible way in which poverty, meanness and divorce from reality causes very real difficulty on a day-to-day basis. In this BBC report, warning of a food price hike crisis, "a single mother of two young children, said the family was struggling on a food budget of £3 per head per day." She's lucky!

It was a major coop when I was finally able to have our groceries delivered, but I can't pay for them, partly because I don't have any money and because (as I'm now an unknown alien from abroad), the bank will not give me a card to do so. So, it has to be paid for on mother's credit card. As I do the cooking, I do the menu, make the list and place the order monthly and, obviously, I tell her how much it's going to be. 

Usually, I get it to around the £70 - £80 mark. For 2 people, for a MONTH.

Once it reached £100 and there was a frown and sharp intake of breath, because she considered that to be too much. I know that's a psychological barrier, but if the bill was to go over that, there would be an expectation that the next month be lower to compensate. If it was to go over often, I would be blamed, the delivery would be blamed, she could refuse to allow the order to be placed and we'd be back to her choice of cheap packet crap that would make my symptoms flare up even worse and there's no way that I'm going to risk that happening.

Bear in mind this amount includes, not just food, but household things, like bog rolls, laundry soap, cleaning materials and even cat food. Our monthly food bill for 2 people is not even £2 per person, per day. By the time you subtract those items it's probably going to be no more that £1.50, per person, per day - only half the amount the single mother 'struggles' on. How much do I struggle then?

Previously, I was spending this much and more, to feed one person. I'm also certain mother was spending at least this much for one person here in the UK too. Then mother says that £100 is about what they were spending when my father was alive. He's been dead almost a decade, FFS! She doesn't consider that it should now be more? She knows prices rise weekly, but will make no allowance.

Even cooking from scratch, which most people appear to have become immune to, it's actually possible to not starve to death on so little money, but like they say, it's getting harder and you certainly don't get much fresh fruit and veg on it.

Tuesday, 31 March 2009

Well, this is going to be an exciting entry: today I bathed the cat. Bear with me, because it's relevant as a comment on the state of my health and how severely everyday tasks affect me.

Anyway, it was the cat's first bath in over a year, which was a bit overdue because, even not going out, he has too much hair to do it himself and, for the first time in his life, he's properly molting, so I needed to help with the frequently falling fluff.

Yes, we already brush handfuls out everyday ... because it's frequently falling in big tufts all over the carpet, provoking much deliberate picking up and hand-brushing of the carpet. Hand-brushing, because the Hoover won't pick it up - which is more of a comment on the (lack of) quality of the carpet, than it is on the inefficiency of the Hoover, though there's probably an element of that too.

Can I manage to get on my hands and knees to hand brush a carpet? Not a hope!

In a house with all tiled floors and in a warm climate, you just bath the cat and let it go outside. It just sits in the sun and licks itself dry and any moisture it drops on the floor on the way from bathroom to exit door, is easily and simply mopped up.

It's a task I'd been putting off for ages, not wanting to cause him any more distress than he's already feeling in a strange land and, not wanting a grand "ho-ha", because it's not that easy to bathe a cat in a fully carpeted (even the bathroom) house and NOT leave one or two drops of slight dampness somewhere. Odd drops of water - even when they're appropriately inside the bath - cause great distress to my mother, who reacts, flapping about there being "water everywhere".

She also obsessively wipes and dries the bath every single time it gets wet, which I find both hilarious and the possible indication of a mental affliction, but, whilst I can ignore this behaviour, the cat wouldn't and would pick up on the tension. So to avoid any anxiety that might unnerve the poor cat, with shampoo at the ready, I grabbed the opportunity this morning while she was out for his annual bath.

He's no trouble at all: actually he's more compliant that the dog used to be and hardly objects, so it's not even a case of needing strength and agility to control him, 'coz the little bugger just stands in the bath and lets me massage the soap into his back, thoroughly enjoying the attention and purring away.

Afterwards, I wrapped him in a towel - which he lay in relaxed and prone like a baby - rubbed off the excess and then gave him some fluffing up with the hairdryer, which in the absence of sun and decent temperatures, was necessary to keep him warm while he was damp. He's happy to put up with this too and I can even roll him on his back to dry off the fur on his belly. He's no trouble at all.

Except the bending. And the doing anything really.

Yes I paced the task sensibly: I took a rest after the bathing and did the drying in several short bursts to avoid over exertion (cat puts up with that better too). When he was essentially dry, I let him finish "cooking" at Gas Mark 1 - he got into bed, so I switched on the electric blanket to keep him warm and avoid damp.

Heat helps fibromyalgia too, so I should benefit from lying on it too. And yet ...

This simple task just about "broke" my back (so you'd think from the pain), but not only that, I was actually shaking and trembling from exertion, indicating that I had pushed myself beyond my level of endurance. Now, even I'll admit that it's totally ridiculous to get to beyond my level of endurance from such simple, everyday, activities but this is not unusual. It's what happens and it's hard to see how to avoid or overcome it.

Sunday, 29 March 2009

Right now I'm having to take deep breaths to cope with chest pains, which I'm sure were caused partly by stress (I don't believe they always are, exclusively), because, once again, mother has pushed me beyond the limits of endurance and I finally had to tell her that I'm trying to do something and that my door was closed for a reason. (Both true.) Yes, I shouted at her and yes, I feel entirely justified. 

And, no I will not feel guilty for upsetting "a poor little old lady." The boot, as they say, is very firmly on the other foot. Of course, publicly, she claims to be the victim and the hard of thinking, who do not even consider getting to know me or actually checking the facts, fall over themselves to believe her.

Earlier she'd already intercepted me to ask, in a tone that sounded like the sort of panic akin to the ending of the world as we know it, had I changed my clocks. So, for the umpteenth year in succession, I reminded her that computers change themselves (so does my mobile phone I use as a watch), so she had no need to tell me. Anyway, even if they hadn't, the world - probably - wouldn't have ended.

Yes, I know the incident sounds like absolutely nothing, taken out of context, but her entire tone and timing made it a clearly deliberately unwarranted (and unwanted) disturbance. Oh, mother probably believes her own hype: that only she - and certainly not I the ignorant child - could possibly know about clock changing and thus she was being helpful (in control), or feels justified in wanting to get my attention, but, considering what she's been doing to me, I feel no guilt and no compulsion to give her any and, certainly not just because she WANTS it now, paying no attention to how I might feel and what my medical needs are.

There are plenty of other reasons why I'd shut my bedroom door, but the one I feel most justified for today - apart from the probably obvious and necessary stress avoidance - is that mother was yet again using spray polish in the house. She is well aware that I've been allergic to all household sprays since, goodness knows ... before I reached puberty anyway and, polish sprays (along with hairspray that she's also been insisting on using a lot lately) are among the worst for me.

This is not something she's forgotten, because only the other day I'd reminded her, YET AGAIN, that I just can't have them in the same house as me. It's partly because of the allergy symptoms (believe me this is severe enough and the headaches totally crippling), but also because exposure to these chemicals causes flare-ups of all my ME symptoms. That's well documented and she knows, because (stupidly) I told her, because it seemed the logically correct thing to explain it.

And that was a relatively pleasant discussion, where I had explained once more - and she seemed to understand and accept - that I've always had to do all my dusting in my homes with a damp cloth and a little vinegar. (Cheap, ecological, non-harming ... surely adopting this method is good and no hardship?) She claims she remembers everything. In fact, she seems to do so - well, certainly all the things she WANTS to remember - so, what is she doing? Yes, I really do think that now she has the knowledge she is doing things to upset me deliberately.

Because I immediately become breathless and nauseous, start coughing - it provokes chest pains too - when I'm exposed to these substances, if she refuses to avoid their use, all I can do is to shut the door to keep away from them and try my best to mitigate the effects - after all, who would want to feel more ill? But not even that works, because she will use any excuse to open the door (doesn't knock, or if she does, doesn't wait for an answer) and twice more this morning, she's barged in, first wanting to know if I wanted her to clean in my room.

What makes that "inappropriate" and unnecessary is that, she has not done so before. First, because I certainly wouldn't expect her to clean my room, secondly, I need to do it my way and, when I have the energy, etc., to manage and pace my symptoms and, I need to do it myself because of the cats who are still hiding and scared of everything here. She knows all of that and that I cleaned the room not long ago (certainly not long compared to her cleaning frequency.)

Then she asked if I would do it - yes (obviously.) Now? "NO, I'm doing something", I said (pointing at the computer screen, though she could see I was anyway) and her reaction; the disappointment and frustration that flashed across her face, was like a 1000-word picture. She seemed most upset that I would not jump, disturb what I was doing to do it right now, this minute, on her schedule, to suit her wants. And she still just couldn't accept a negative answer, because 30 seconds later, she had barged in again (didn't even knock) to whine that she is only trying to help, which is when I shouted to cut off the whole pathetic insincere diatribe.

It isn't worth explaining to her, but it's obvious that, if she really was trying to help, she'd a) let me rest and / or do things undisturbed b) allow me some basic respect and privacy c) not use chemicals in the house, etc., ad nauseam. Obviously, one thing I could do (again, I think justifiably) is to put a lock on the door, but I know doing so would create a huge reaction and argument.

It's already bad enough that, as soon as I began closing the door to the room, the crazy woman started going outside the front of the house and pressing her nose up against the glass to the window of my room, trying to see in.  Yeah, really!

There are net curtains, but it is still possible to see in, so for this reason and because it dawned on me that others would be able to see my laptop, I now keep the curtains closed all the time. I often also suffer from an over-sensitivity to light; it's better than looking out at a crappy wall and it's necessary on the mornings when the sun reflects on the screen. Of course, as soon as I began keeping the curtains closed, was when she decided that she could open the door to my room whenever she wanted to. And that she does, despite more than once, I've told her that I don't care if the house is on fire (if it were, the alarm would alert me), so she has no reason whatsoever to open that door.

Of course, I can't stay in the room permanently. I have to go out to the loo and, the strength of the waft of polish is so strong the cloud hit me like a wall. I know that I'm super-sensitive, but it seemed excessive. Is that deliberate too?

Another of the things that (again, since I was a kid) have always upset me are air-freshener sprays - I also seriously disapprove of them on ecological grounds - and, yet again, this is something that has been discussed over and over again in recent months, reminding my mother that these cause me problems (allergies, headaches, etc.) Yet, I've heard the spray and smelled air freshener - she's done this early in the morning when she's thought I was asleep - that alone suggests that she knows she's doing wrong - and refuses to desist.

These are not the actions of someone trying to be "innocently" helpful.

Getting help

Reach out, were told and my mental health needs it. So I tried yesterday, after the latest attack and spoke to a lot of organizations for advice. Age Concern (echoed by several others) advised me to speak to doctors and health visitor, to adult social services and to a lawyer. All of which I've done, using the small amount of energy I can muster. However, I don't know where this mythical help comes from, because where I say AWAITING CALL BACK, I mean still waiting, even if you're reading this in the year 3000. In reality, there isn't any help.

1. Spoke to Citizen's Advice Bureau. Had a long chat with the supervisor, but they're at a loss for practical suggestions. AWAITING CALL BACK.
2. Spoke to local Disability Information Service. Asked if they had any ideas, since they might have dealt with situations where disabled people needed help to defend themselves against abuse. AWAITING CALL BACK.
3. Spoke to Refuge and Women's Aid who at least listened to the story, acknowledging the similarities in the abuse pattern. Practically though, they could only suggest giving me their local outreach number a call. That was a recorded message that told me to phone the very same main helpline that I'd already phoned. Women's Aid Refuge and Advice line – NO REPLY.
4. On a friend’s (well, a friend of my mother's actually) suggestion, spoke to local Age Concern, who says they have no advice line locally, but have dealt with lots of similar situations where the old person is “sweetness and light” publicly, but turns on their “nearest and dearest” and says this behaviour sounds just like the first signs of dementia. She suggested I speak to Social Services, to the doctor and to a solicitor (the latter to send my mother a “cease and desist” letter, to put it in writing that she must stop “blackening my character”. I can't see her taking a blind bit of notice, but I can see the use in having such a document.) Says I can call her again if ever I need to.
5. Social Services, told to ask for Duty Care Manager, Adult Services. They would only be able to put me into a B&B – which would not allow the cats - so I haven't phoned and am leaving that for the absolute last resort.
6. Spoke to Community Health Visitor at GP surgery. She was going on leave, but promised to speak to both my mother's usual doctor and mine, with a view to coming out to see mother (only if mother gives permission – though she would not be told why) to assess the situation. AWAITING CALL BACK.
7. Spoke to a local solicitor and explained the idea that Age Concern put forward. Will speak to a couple of the partners and discuss what might be appropriate action. AWAITING CALL BACK.
8. Phoned Victim Support, but got NO REPLY.
9. Spoke to PALS who merely suggested ringing the following: Carers Active Listening Line; Carers Helpline and Carers Together.
10. Spoke to Carers Active Listening Line, who did, at least, listen. Suggested that I should book myself a double appointment to see my mother's GP and explain the situation – she suggests writing down some examples of the strange behaviour in bullet points, with a view to them calling mother in for a “standard old age MOT” (this would tie in with the Health Visitor's work) to assess whether this is dementia, some other mental problem or just plain bloody cantankerousness. Whichever diagnosis, she says, at least then we would know what we're dealing with. She also thinks it's important that I tell my mother's doctor that I am her carer, on the basis that I'm here, expected to do the cooking, as well as being the only family member in existence (which I did, when I first got here.) She offered the most empathy when I explained what the problem was and what had occurred today, saying, “you must be distressed.” Understatement! One interesting question she asked was if my mother allowed me any privacy and to my reply to that, could I put a lock on the door? Had clearly heard of similar cases. 

Yes, there were a few items I could have followed up and chased, but I figure if they don't call me, they don't want to help and I don't have the energy to keep badgering them for potentially no return. It's a frightening, isolated situation.