“Welcome to the jungle, it gets worse here every dayYou learn to live like an animal in the jungle where we play.”
Guns N’ Roses, Welcome To The Jungle
In my last post I said I was crying when I arrived at my new place, another caravan in somebody’s backyard. I was so scared this was the next chapter of my horror story. Unfortunately I was right. Continue reading “Psychotic descent- part 4: quest for safety, autism, discrimination, noise sensitivity and stuck in a world not made for us”
I had to read over my last post to remember where I last finished. It has been the longest 14 days of my life and I feel I could write an entire book on these 14 days alone. The happiness that I reported in the last post was the headlamp of an oncoming train. Continue reading “Homelessness and psychotic descent- part 3”
The day where I’d leave Melbourne and return to the country approached. I had teed up the new caravan to rent. I had teed up transport. I bought doonas, heaps of hot water bottles and a bag full of heat packs so I was better prepared for the cold, all while unwell. I kept waking up to a peculiar hammering. It was usually just a few bangs and then would stop for a while. One day, I heard three bangs, the number which I seemed to be seeing everywhere. I read a very scary post on social media once where someone reported hearing three knocks on her door at night. Another member said that it was demons and her death would be imminent. The number three is a very significant number spiritually, as seen in the Holy Trinity. I was convinced the number meant something. In fact I was convinced everything meant something, that there was hidden signs and meaning in the light flickering, the smoke detectors malfunctioning, etc. Continue reading “The psychotic descent continues: part 2”
I don’t see the point in me being in the city right now. I’m too unwell to see friends. I’m too unwell to play badminton, and don’t know if I can ever show my face there again after pissing my pants on the court. My physio doesn’t seem to want to see me until things settle down with my housing, which may take a while. I don’t have a job here. I basically don’t have a life here, and am just spending my days wasting away in bed. Without any structure I lose sense of what day it is. I am simply existing outside of time, no longer part of the world around me. Continue reading “Psychotic descent”
Part 1. Fleeing the city to live with mice
My time away in the country just got worse and worse by the minute. I couldn’t get rid of the mice in the caravan which would keep me awake all night. My friend and I carried a mattress down from her house one night and I slept in the annex, a room adjoining the caravan, but the little shits were in there as well. They kept running through the room all night. I was so exhausted I couldn’t even get up. Continue reading “Reality makes you mad”
I am still in the countryside, staying in a friend’s caravan/annex. It’s not the most luxurious accommodation. There is no toilet, so I have to pee and shit in the bush, though that doesn’t bother me. Animals get into the paint stripped walls and make an awful racket. The other week I heard something behind the curtain by the door. Whatever it was, it was big. I slowly pulled back the curtain and a fat rat leapt out and scurried across the room! Today I found a cockroach on the bench, though it probably doesn’t help that I don’t clean up. A bull ant landed on my puffer jacket while I was sitting on my bed. I have also had to remove two big huntsmen spiders from the place. I am becoming an expert at removing huntsmen, putting a plastic container over them, sliding cardboard underneath and taking them outside. Perhaps it was the same huntsman who found his way back into the caravan. Continue reading “Life in a rural area”
It’s the first time I’ve opened my laptop all week. Right now has got to be one of the lowest most distressing points in my life, and I can’t imagine it getting any worse than this, although life always surprises me. Continue reading “Escape”
Dissociative systems has become a bit of an interest of mine, and I am writing this post to take my mind off how much discomfort I am in physically. Most people will be more familiar with the terms “Dissociative Identity Disorder”, or “multiple personality disorder”, but “dissociative systems” is actually the term the community tends to prefer. The word “system” is used to describe the collective that lives in the one body, and the term is less pathologising. Many members of the community do not see this as a “disorder”. It is a highly creative and helpful way of dealing with unbearable trauma, usually starting in early childhood, and many members do not wish for it to go away. Attempting to treat it through “integration” is like murder. Continue reading “Dissociative systems (aka Dissociative Identity Disorder)”
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