FINALLY I FOUND THE KEY to turn my own blazing radiators off. My home is fairly clean, though scattered with stray dumpling flour. The schizophrenic next door claims the landlord was seeking me on Friday. Why can't these people leave notes like ordinary human beings. The register I signed days ago is still on the wall full of my initials.
I don't know what I am supposed to write? What can I say. I only feel like death and death warmed up.
The more I think about where I've been and where I've come from the more angry I get. Living in a yard deep of rubbish obsessively collected. Sleeping on the floor, living like a wild animal, paranoid, convinced I was being spied on by miniature alien-cams. Hearing voices all the time. And all through this my idiot dolts of drugs workers took my dire physical state (I was literally falling apart on my feet) as a kind of normality. My mental state was bearly even glimpsed. When the shrink said I had been "paranoid and psychotic" I was still far too paranoid to pass on this info to somebody else. I lost out on over a year's state benefits I'm still entitled to due to "feelings of unworthiness".
Short of a miracle I will never be better than I am now. Which is not that good. Now I have to go it's a blue and white sunny day and it's making me sick.
This is from Ireland: bull in a supermarket
Profiles in Recovery - I will write something "real" soon... but in the mean time there is this. It's "real" but it's recycled. Lol Much love and care to all.... Annette
4 hours ago