5 Aug 2015

Post 403: Starting this again? STOP COMPLAINING

This blog is supposed to be a thankyou to all the people who have helped me over the years, it is not supposed to be a platform to rant, go on about things, bore, depress or alienate anyone but I will not sway from having opinions, I may have done a degree in politics and mentioned it once or twice and mentioned politics before, but let’s face it, it bores or worse, divides people, and our lives are hard enough! I used to like Russell Brand as a comedian but I can’t stand him now, his narcicissm, shameless self publicity and his high-horse naive self righteousness (amongst others)

I am writing another post because the latest workawayer Katie (who was an absolute treasure), I know I’ve said it before but I must reiterate how brilliant the workaway’s have been. From Juan last summer (our first) to Ellie now. In a way, they have all been my favourites, because they live here and seem to like it New people are like Oxygen to my housemate Marc, my carer, Gary and to me. Otherwise we’d all go mad. Marc has a talent for finding the best people. Our holiday to Spain in November 2013 changed our lives when we met Mike and Rachel, who were workawaying at Trixie’s House, the amazing and unique Casa de la Finestra. Katie said that I needed to do something I was passionate and good at.
I know – is this it?
Being passionate about anything doesn’t really work these days and as far as I’m concerned – passion usually means taking things a bit seriously – suicide bombers/serial killers/ god-squaders come to mind and I’m none of those. I’m sure this is quite ironic, but complaining is apparently the thing that makes people fed up (with me), oh, and politics and sadly the way my disability has worked out – most things I say seem to be interpreted that way (as complaints). I used to be the kind of person to avoid complaining about anything – trying my best to try and find the funny, the good, the meritworthy, the stupid, dare I say the positive, but I don’t think I was nauseating – now, things are probably a little different. Ability meant playing off 2, skiing, going to the gym, eating right, ‘A’s in my exams, Oxford University, an unimaginably awesome girlfriend who I was devoted to, a decent job, my own flat and mortgage in London, financial independence, friends, energy and always making the effort to do things for people. Disability means not having the ability and energy to do anything compared to this except luckily, financial independence and friends who make what time they can, the thing that gets me down the most is knowing I don’t have a chance with girls I find attractive anymore. I never used to even contemplate paying for it. It wouldn’t have been fair, right or necessary. Apparently, this is nauseating self –pity, you’re damn right it is, and I hate it coming out. People need as few reasons as possible to dislike everything about me. It seems to be a human tradition to hate people with more than you – it is more nuanced than that – we hate people who appear to have been given what they’ve got – now I can say with a straight face, that I worked hard for everything, even now, and anyone who feels I’m getting what I deserve (and I know they’re out there) can FUCK OFF!
What I have noticed about a lot of stroke survivors is a burning desire to get their stories out there, and I guess I’m no different. I guess stroke survivors find being ignored all the time the hardest thing, we always, ALWAYS, want to remind anyone that we were not as wretched once as we are now. Let me try and be clear. I am a do-er, have always been, not someone who can cope with just sitting around, but that is what I am forced to do. I exist because of the goodwill of my friends and family. Everything I do is about trying to please them. I know I have been luckier than most, to have a place to live and a pension from my old employer so I don’t rely on the state or on my parents – it feels like it’s the only thing I have. I try my hardest now to not lose touch with my old friends and meet new local ones but the type of people I know/encounter are all so busy. I take a lot of the responsibility because people want low maintenance friends and I’m not that. Even though I’ve been told I won’t be independent, I still do physiotherapy four times a week so I can maintain my transfers ( ie I can get to/from the loo and I can get myself to/from my bed) I have stopped snacking and eat one meal a day and have two protein smoothies. It is hideous. I spend most of my money on my friends and family. Gifts, going for meals and going to concerts. That feels pretty full-time, but apparently it is entertaining myself. I need to do something hard, something thankless apparently, so I say ‘just getting up in the morning is hard enough’ STOP COMPLAINING. I’m f*cked aren’t I?
Life is for other people, so that’s what I try and do.
Writing this is hard enough – I’m trying to squeeze as much of this writing out before I have my enforced ‘fatigue management’, basically an afternoon liedown so I’m not too f*cked for the evening. It means being out of touch with the world for two+ hours because sitting in my wheelchair is f*cking exhausting. What, ‘no need to swear’ BOLLOCKS, swearing was invented for precisely this eventuality. Now I have to post this and that will take hours. STOP COMPLAINING.

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