I woke up about 45 – 50 minutes ago, with the words , reflections & connections vibrating in my head, related very much to how I spent my day yesterday.
I had no intention of writing this post or the content, here and now, I won’t say it’s not something I would not have written about in the future in a different way or format or perhaps just in a diary, and perhaps its as my dad said , “cart before horse “material,
but on the other hand , my mum used to tell me follow your intuition and my mum, was the wisest woman I have ever known, my guardian, my angel.
Frankly I don’t care if you believe what I am about to write or not, it’s very personal , highly charged with emotion and I share it only because of those vibrating words, reflections & connections, and I guess, because its relevant to The Hethen Project, which is about raising awareness of mental health issues, and the disparity in the difference of how mental health patients and physical health patients are treated.
Furthermore, its related to the birth of the Hethen project, and previous posts that go back to 2008/10 when my pages were called “justice uk style”
These entries where basically describing where I ws back then and undoubtable a cry for help that largly went unheard regarding what I beleive to be violations of my human rights & what went on to become crimes of violance and abuses against me.
These incidents, coincidently will see their 8th anniversary in next few days, and which are probably why I have been on an emotional roller coaster of triggers to what I suggest is PTSD, for the last couple of months, coupled with other personal triggers related to mental health /illness within my family unit. These issues will be discussed in my autobiography “A girl from Glasgow” which I hope to publish in order to fund the Hethen Project strategy. ….
So, related to my random, unplanned journey yesterday, which I don’t care if you believe or not, as some of what I am about to say can be supported by evidence, some can’t , and these that can’t I can’t explain, and all I suggest you can do in that respect, is analyse what I say, and reach your own conclusion as to what possible benefit there is in it for me in lying about it, including the consequences for me of the stigma attached to my assertions. remembering that this is MY TRUTH, and I don’t give a fuck if you believe me or not.
So, here we go, sit back and come with me on my random journey….where you get to decide if its truth or the workings of my creative imagination.
Yesterday morning I woke around 7.30ish maybe a little before or a little later , but I’ve been regulating my sleep pattern as mentioned in an earlier post, and that even coupled with a bit of an emotional roller coaster this past week, I’ve been off the cigarettes since I went to the chemist and got pissed off over the patches issue, iv just been using the wee plastic stick thing, and even then I’ve only been changing the capsule about every 3_ 4 days (cos it’s mostly psychological after 3 days) when the nicotine I think is mostly gone, except what I’m using to substitute to deal with the cravings, the addiction. I had a brief couple of days relapse, about 5 day in, I was borderline manic, and thrwat with emotions, and tearful, but I been cigerette free since saturday, I know I’m not out the woods yet, but I’m confident. Anyway that’s by the bye. so, yesterday…
As I sat drinking my tea and munching a slice of toast, I looked out on my balcony and there was a wee robin red breast having breakfast, I took a picture, but its not very good because of the rain on the window panes, I was very emotional. I recently found out, only a few months ago, that robins remind my daughter of my mum, her gran, who passed away in 1997. So, yeah, My heartfelt tight, as we had breakfast, silently together in my mind.
I had things I had to do yesterday, I recently got a new second-hand car, as my old once was on its last legs and I didn’t feel safe driving it. I had thought I’d budgeted it in since after christmas to replace it , as its kind of priority for me to get out, I’m not great on buses I can anxious on them, having the car gives me a sense of freedom and security when I’m out and about that encourages me to go out more as well, which is kinda therapeutic, I have a lousy sense of direction and can get lost, so often I need a co pilot if I am going somewhere important or to an appointment, but, I can drive without a co piolet if getting lost isn’t a big deal, it just means I take longer to get place or get back from them, if I take a wrong turn and get lost.If I’m going to somewhere important I have my daughter or someone with me to give me directions and keep me correct, and if I’m just out for a drive and to get out the house, it’s not like getting lost is a big deal as long as I have petrol, it’s a wee adventure, and if I don’t have to be anywhere specific, or back anywhere by a certain time, it’s no big deal.
Thing was, I hadn’t budgeted as well as I had thought, and because of christmas I’d had a few small errors so there was a mix up with my standing order for rent, which I had corrected later but then because of that I’d forgotten to remember about the adjustment of the dates and when I had seen the car and made inquiries, about it, I had arranged for it to be brought to me , only to discover my rent standing order went out the same day and that meant I was about £80 short for the car, I got into a bit of state about this, which was eventually resolved when I explained to a family member who lent me the £80 which I had to pay back today when I got paid, I’m not good with money and stuff like that my mind doesn’t take it in, I don’t like money and it has been a sourse of much of my mental health problems due to issues irrelevant to what this post is about but , which shall be explained in detain in my book A girl from Glasgow, as well as later & previous post in The Hethen project and The unconventional Thesis of a Girl from Glasgow, but I diversify…
So, after I had had breakfast, got washed and dressed I put on my mask, grabbed a couple of cd’s from the shelf which I haven’t listened to for ages for the car cos it has a cd player & set off to go pay my son back for money he lent me, stopping to put petrol in the car and grab a card to stick the money in incase I didn’t find him there, and had to pop it through the door of his house.
I’d texted before leaving to ask if he would be at home or work, he’s usually at work, but I’d got no reply before I left and when I’m driving I don’t answer the phone, unless I can pull over, if it’s in my bag, which it was, I don’t even hear it.
I headed for his work to drop of the envelope. He was there it took less than 5 minutes to give him the envelope.
Theres always an awkwardness between me and my eldest son. I understand completely why, it’s not easy having a crazy lady for your mum, its embarrassing, I am well aware of the stigma and how it has affected my children on various levels. It’s also not easy to see your mum go through a nervous breakdown at the age of 15 /16, my mental health has impacted on him, on all my children, I know this, I have to live with this , and of course the fear, what if its genetic? all my children have at some point experienced depression, & now as they face parenthood, what if I’ve infected their kids, I get the fear too, but I can’t change my past, or my genetics, I don’t even know the origin of my genetics, I am the infected alien, the carrier of the unknown demon depression, which is why raising awareness is so very, very important to me. My kids, kids need to understand, cos with understanding there is management , and coping skills and life ain’t so bad.
And just for the record I know my kids love me, there’s no doubt about that, it’s just difficult to be around me, and I get that.
1 in 4 people encounter the demon depression as they journey through life, it impacts on everyone they know, I & my 3 kids are 1 in 4, while we are also 4 with 1 common demon, do the sums, I can’t I’m shit at arithmetic.
After giving my son the envelope , I left, once outside I took a deep breath, as I walked back to the car, quickly my mask was slipping, I reached the car put on my shades , took Anastasia out the cd player, and put mr macs, for my valentine on , as I pulled out the car park and Mr MaCartney sang to me about writing himself a letter,the tears began to fall as I headed home.
There was a diversion as I got to my exit for the bypass, probably resulting from the hit and run the other day, i felt sad, the cd was glitching, so I turned down the volume to concentrate, so I could find the best route, then saw the sign for Glasgow, and tought , yeah fuck it why not, I got petrol , I got a new car, I got nothing better to do, and it will lift my mood maybe go to the art galleries, so, I headed for the back road toward Barr head, a wee drive back to my roots would do me good. Once on the correct track I pressed a random button on the cd, and mr mac was singing old songs that made me smile.
Its a familiar road one I’ve driven many times, many memories flooding through my head, as I went round the curvy bit of road, near Uplamoor, heading for Barr head, mr Macca starting singing , you gotta give a little take a little and let your poor hear break a little, I spotted a rainbow over where the cemetery was, I couldn’t believe it, as I was thinking of oor Betty, I was crying again, cos yeah who would beleive me if i told them that, I mean it’s not like they could check with anyone in Barheid if there was a rainbow at the cemetery or I could prove that song came on at that point of the road , randomly, cos who would beleive me. I pulled over and parked up, and just sat a while, wi Betty in my mind, thinking about weans, and headstones , and silly stupid family stuff that made me and Betty laugh at the absurdity of it all cos oor Betty to be fair would be happy wi a wee stone the weans painted thersels cos whit difference does a stone make when your always on their minds…
Then I wiped my eyes and said my bye byes, and headed for Cardonald, past my auntie nan’s I had no idea why I was taking this route?, it didn’t matter. I got a bit obsessive bout finding the correct street where she lived, turning up the wrong one, but recognising places , knowing I was close, Lorraine and Pauline and wee Maureen on my mind, stories Pauline told me about aunt nans mental health probs and other family secrets, turned back on myself to get the street found it, i was able to move on.
I passed an old friend from back in the days house near the park, Ranna’s mum’s, I only ever dropped Rana off their once why was I obssessing about this stuff, I don’t know, I stopped listening to the music, I got the wrong building first time , then I spotted it, where it cornered with Jura street, I think that was it, why did it matter, it didn’t yet I was obsessing, mindful , obbsessing about stupid stuff that didnt matter, what was I trying to prove that I had a good memory, that I wasnt stupid!! get a fuckin grip june, I laughed. Mood changed at set of lights I put Anestesia back on sing song time, nice and loud, window open waiting on the lights to change. Cop car to my righthand side, look casual, pump up the volume,!!! willing the lights to change, lady cop got out, look casual, fuck it, I was singing loud and proud, I smiled at the lady cop still singing, she smiled back, lights changed I moved on… I smiled at a copper laughing in my head still singing I headed for the town then towards Fineston. Repeating in my head smiled at a copper she smiled back , laughing…..
Next the armadillo, then up towards my old school, passed another of aunt nan’s old houses, passed uncle lewis, and aunt Irene’s, 2 old houses and where the chippy where my big cousin used to work, passed the art gallery, passed where big Sandra’s sunbed place (i think thats what it was called cant remember ) was, past where Jazz and wee laura M’s aunty got killed in the car accident with big Sandra which left her brain-damaged, no more tears, headed on towards, Minerva street, took a wrong turn somehow I was at laurel pace mind was obsessed again , what was I doing what was I trying to prove, I think I only ever visited this house once or twice to see aunt Joan, what was I doing , why was I going to these places,I was lost. I stopped and asked some people for directions which they gave me, yet still I ended up not where I’d asked to go but at near where flame, who shared my name but spelt different had lived , I laughed this was mad, I head for crow rd, then back towards the uni, no music, up woodlands rd, towards Park quad, no number 6 to be found, 7 still there, and the place down the stair but the numbers gone how odd, i got out, checked, took some photos, said what I had to say, went back on my way. … moving on…
Smiled as I passed the garage on woodlands rd,where I used to see the quiet big bloke that’s on the telly, he’d be buying fag’s and milk, sometimes when I was on my way home fay work and getting my own fags , never knew him , never spoke , but I hope he wins, he deserves it I thought.
Up to the flats, up the block , lift to our hoose, mer photies, doors and corridors, ours, and Betty’s, and wee Maggies, formally Angie & Linda B’s made me smile , happy days… up to 11 took a photo… moving on….
Wondering whats going on, why am I doing this… no idea , I don’t care… up past munn’s, Roland street, stop turn, head back down the road… feeling better… down st Georges road, I stick the music back on , singing “All the times that we spent together… “Anestesia… Hand out the window held in the air I think,
I’m a Girl from Glasgow and I fucking care !!!
& then, I’m back on the road again, heading toward Ayrshire…