I am not a jew. Can you actually say that without being shot these days? I say that cos of the the name I chose. I have lots of jewish (Jewish?) friends though so feel ok saying jew. At school, it was the ultimate insult, being called a jew. Never really understood that.
Anyway, not here to talk about religion, jewish or otherwise, I am here because I have no one to talk to anymore and I am tired of writing to myself. I want to vent to the world as I can't really do it to the few people I have left in my life in case they should disappear too.
I came out of a looney bin last year after a brain meltdown induced by a severe bout of alcoholism that lasted for exactly 11 months. Enough to drive me insane and make me try and make me try to end my life several times.
Frankly, I was surprised as to how difficult it was to meet with the grim reaper. I suppose if I had a gun, I would definitely be dead or lying extremely injured in some hospital with half my head missing. Now THAT would have been a bummer. Instead, I have a broken thumb (healed of course) from my hanging attempt- the cord broke and I landed on said thumb and it healed leaving me with a gnarly joint- and scars on my arm from the scalpel incident.
Now that was a day I shall never forget. Waking up in a bloody bath with a great big hole in my wrist. Obviously not dead and then having to go to the GP to get it sorted. Really a classic situation. I asked to see the nurse. The receptionist told me it would be a week before the next appointment. I rolled my sleeve and plonked my arm infront of her full of holes. That seemed to do the trick.
They sent me to hospital and then I went into the psychiatric wing. Yikes. If I had any notions of being a bit mad, well that place soon made me realize that however nuts I felt, well it was a summer holiday in the Cote d'Azur compared to some of the poor souls in there.
I remember meeting one guy there who told me that it really was a myth that you can kill yourself by slicing your wrists, He said that if you possibly chopped your hand off with an axe, then you might cause enough blood loss to die. Otherwise, what will end up happening, as with him and countless others, is severely damaged hands and beaucoup scars.
Well that's me now. Beaucoup scars and nothing I can do about them. Have to wear long sleeves now all the time. Total bummer. Got round one week in Mykonos by having a henna tattoo which seemed to do the trick, so henna tatts it will be.
Does anyone read this stuff?
What I have recently discovered is that no one gives a shit about anybody except themselves and their immediate family. Now I know your friends care, but only up to a point. I went totally nuts. I mean barking. And your friends can only take it so far. Perfectly understandable. I might have done the same where I in their shoes.
Someone told me that depression is invisible. I look fantastic if I can be so modest. Good looking, nice body, young, all my own teeth, but I was like bloody Cassandra in side my head and then eventually outside.
I'm ok now. Well, was till two weeks ago. You see I went on this trip visiting old friends around the world. I would say one of the worst decisions of my life, except for maybe the slicing of the wrists. Actually, come to think of it, I don't think I can do anything more idiotic than that. So however much of future idiotic things I do, I will always rest assured in the knowledge that I can never be that much of a twit again.
So back to this trip. I spent it mostly on my own. Seeing the sights of wherever I was, Hong Kong, Australia and New Zealand and America. You see. This is my problem. It all sounds so bloody fantastic. How on earth can I say to people that I had a misreable time in all these fabulous places. It's like complaing of an in-growing toe nail to someone who's had their feet blown off whilst crossing field getting water for their dying child!!! You just simply can't do that. It's obscene. So obviously I won't.
But listen. Say you are on the Queen Mary travelling first class having paid £100,000 for a first class ticket and then you eat a dodgy shrimp. You're ill. You are not having a good time puking and pooing all over the place. Doesn't matter if you are dripping in diamonds and have toilet paper made of £20 notes, You are not having a good time. If you don't get my point by now, you never will and go ahead, think I am a spoilt brat.
So I keep silent and lie and say I had a wonderful time. The fact that I didn't lose the plot and go insane being on my own for so long is good enough for me to warrant the lie. And now I am back home, I am OK. Who gives a flying fuck? Just me and that will have to do,
