sitting in a hotel room drinking at 9am (4am, 10am). Today I get moved (hopefully) to temporary accommodation . I don't know what it will be - like maybe a hostel? Am scared.Nobody loves me...I mean nobody likes me. I got evicted (again) this Valentine's Day by a man I thought I had chemistry with...he said I'm hard to live with. It's not true - he just doesn't like me. It was so good to be held and feel some love. But he got rid of the cat he was given over Christmas that he had said was 'our cat' without asking me. He is now back on psych ward. I'm back to being homeless. I know I couldn't depend on him for accommodation. I just miss being loved. He has Bipolar 1. But instead, I'm back shunned and alone again. I'm really confused because I thought we had fun. I don't want to be this focussed on losing a man. It is just because I am so lonely that I am most of the time alone and on drugs. I miss him. I met him in real life and we got on. I know that means nothing. It's just that I don't have anyone in my life and I want someone. My family think I am a mad hoarder. I don't know what I am. I am generally on drugs which I think make me more human and other people think make me annoying/mad. I don't know if they make me mad. They give me lots of ideas which I can 't always put into action as I'm too depressed. I'd like to put them into action. Every time I start again, I get made homeless again, so I haven't had anywhere to start. My dreams are: writing a blog (this should be easy to make happen, I just haven't started the site yet), starting a massage business. I was trained in massage years ago, I just didn't have the confidence to go and work doing it. I have worked in offices.
The people housing me are all talking about 'substance misuse' teams and 'engaging' with mental health. I fucking hate those words 'engaging with mental health teams.' I've had a chronic illness for over twenty years. Fuck what can the mental health teams do for me. They say it with this faux positive tone like they are talking to a primary school kid, whereas behind the scenes they are thinking get this hoarder on her meds or something. Here's a way to keep yourself occupied when you are lonely all day with constant crying and suicidal thoughts (it's called Sanctioned Suicide).
I am grateful to the people helping me with housing. It's just hand in hand with hating how I've been labelled and my confusion about how I've been labelled, along with whether I have any hope for the future or if I am entirely mad and also destined to being alone forever.
Right now, my depression isn't as bad as it has been. It's more the loneliness and the labels and whether they are true. I guess it's like:
- Mad
- Homeless
- Drug addict
And on top of that - not working, that so many people now know I've been homeless - that one person I used to know told other people, some of whom were coming to 'visit' me and others wished me 'get well soon'! As if being homeless is an illness.
I don't know if I am a hoarder but I do comfort myself with shopping that I can't afford. I am confused. My family think I don't have capacity to make decisions for myself. I am homeless. I feel offended by being called names like 'hoarder' and 'stupid' but the drugs do put me in an altered state and maybe they are true.
I know that none of my life looks like I want it to - and that I don't know, maybe it's my fault for being so ill or maybe it's just the continued curse of mental illness.
Right now I've had some wine and some weed and feel sophorific. Got to check out of this hotel and find out where next.
I don't want to be ungrateful. Like I am being helped. I just can't think straight and so lonely.
The people housing me are all talking about 'substance misuse' teams and 'engaging' with mental health. I fucking hate those words 'engaging with mental health teams.' I've had a chronic illness for over twenty years. Fuck what can the mental health teams do for me. They say it with this faux positive tone like they are talking to a primary school kid, whereas behind the scenes they are thinking get this hoarder on her meds or something. Here's a way to keep yourself occupied when you are lonely all day with constant crying and suicidal thoughts (it's called Sanctioned Suicide).
I am grateful to the people helping me with housing. It's just hand in hand with hating how I've been labelled and my confusion about how I've been labelled, along with whether I have any hope for the future or if I am entirely mad and also destined to being alone forever.
Right now, my depression isn't as bad as it has been. It's more the loneliness and the labels and whether they are true. I guess it's like:
- Mad
- Homeless
- Drug addict
And on top of that - not working, that so many people now know I've been homeless - that one person I used to know told other people, some of whom were coming to 'visit' me and others wished me 'get well soon'! As if being homeless is an illness.
I don't know if I am a hoarder but I do comfort myself with shopping that I can't afford. I am confused. My family think I don't have capacity to make decisions for myself. I am homeless. I feel offended by being called names like 'hoarder' and 'stupid' but the drugs do put me in an altered state and maybe they are true.
I know that none of my life looks like I want it to - and that I don't know, maybe it's my fault for being so ill or maybe it's just the continued curse of mental illness.
Right now I've had some wine and some weed and feel sophorific. Got to check out of this hotel and find out where next.
I don't want to be ungrateful. Like I am being helped. I just can't think straight and so lonely.
