When it all comes down...

Things have been pretty rough recently. I guess I was a proper shit in my former life (even though I don’t know if I believe in all that) as when it rains, it truly does pour.

December brought up personal and professional problems which was affecting the way I work but they managed to get sorted.
Unfortunately a new girl moved into my flat who had just come out of jail (I live in a housing association as I was homeless for a bit when I moved to London) who caused endless problems from day one.

Shady goings on, the smell of crack wafting through the flat, the banging of doors all day and night, fights and stealing my stuff. Then another moved in.
She is a prostitute (not that I judge what with my other line of work) with severe mental health problems, body dysmorphia, smokes heroin openly and is a former crack addict. Well she said former.

They both know each other and argue constantly, except the one time when I heard them doing a punter together while I was having a bath by candlelight…not for romantic reasons but because they had fucked up the light in there.
The first one (who shall be know known as Evil) bullies the other (Nutty) until she is a screaming mess, throwing things around the flat, breaking property and stabbing doors and walls with a knife.
I went to the olds for Christmas, Fuerteventura for my birthday and New Year and have stayed at my partners (more of that later) place since January. On the occasional night I have stayed at the crack den, it has been hellish.
One night they were slamming doors and screaming at full pelt from 10 until 3am in the morning.
They have no respect, empathy, consideration, manners or care for anyone but themselves. They have 7 kids between them, lord only knows where they are, poor things.

I first asked my housing association to move me in mid December and my Doctor wrote a letter backing it up. At first they wanted me to make an official complaint but I refused on the grounds that I feared my safety from Evil, Nutty and their dodgy cronies. It is now nearly mid February and its only now that they’ve started to take it seriously as apparently the neighbours have made complaints and police are involved.
I would leave the housing association but I can’t afford to rent in the private sector and if I stay in the system a little longer, more likely to get my own place.

I’ve tried to get on with my college work and had to do the colleges interim show at The Bargehouse (I got a nice little nod btw http://londonist.com/2008/02/_we_really_didn.php ) but with running all around London, having my computer in storage and feeling like I'm going crackers, haven’t achieved much.

On Sunday, I split up with my partner during our anniversary break away. I’ve never spoke much about her on here as that is part of my life that I wish to remain private but I’m devastated, on top of everything else.

I retuned to the crack den to find it a filthy mess, all my crockery, coffee table, glasses and mugs broken, my framed ‘Like A Virgin’ album stolen and the washing machine fucked.
I bought some milk and wrote “Fuck off and get your own yeah?” on it…being pretty fed up with anything that wasn’t nailed down being wreaked or stolen.
So when Evil finally arose from her pit with one of her chums and saw what I‘d written, she started a barrage of abuse and when I told her I wasn’t interested, to get out of my face and closed the door on her, she stood outside my door screaming and threatening me for another ten minutes. I can see why Nutty throws stuff around when she picks on her. Pure evil.

Luckily I’m staying with a friend for a bit so at least I’m safe.
Though I wouldn’t mind if Evil was bumped off. One of the nastiest, most selfish, ignorant, dishonest and ugliest people I’ve had the displeasure to meet. What sucks is that she has more rights than me.
The system and overt PC idiots help fuck ups like her who contribute nothing to society.
Nutty has just been allocated a council flat. They told me I would have to wait for a few years at least.
I sound like a Daily Mail reader but fuck em, I’m not a intentionally bad person and have remained crime free for most of my life (ok so I dabble in the occasional use of recreational illegal substances…though only twice since last summer) but reasonably decent folk like me don’t exist.
When I asked my Doctor recently if there was a way of getting subsidised massages (for my fucked up back), she said the only way was if I was a drug user or alcoholic. Nice.

So yeah…I’m feeling pretty down and have cried more in the past two months then probably 7 years (I’m not usually a weepy type). My Doctor yesterday suggested I go into the psychiatric unit at Hommerton Hospital but decided not to, those places make you worse, not better.

Mental health problems are something that people are often afraid of admitting to.
Having a broken leg, appendicitis or Hyper Mobility Syndrome (which is something I also have) are things you will probably tell others about but saying you have problems with depression is still quite anti social and taboo despite the trend of life coaches and therapists.

I was diagnosed with Dysthymic disorder after I had a breakdown and spent time in a mental health unit for nearly four weeks when I was 19.
Its something I have learned to live with for 16 years now (after having ‘episodes‘ since 15) and was told I was born with a chemical imbalance in my brain and that I’d often have periods of depression.
I have had some rocky patches ever since but have done my best to deal with it. I left home at 16 and have fended for myself pretty much ever since, I’ve dragged myself out of many a hole, learned coping mechanisms and been on and off the happy pills for a long time but sometimes being strong and necking drugs no longer works.

Those very close to me know about this but like I said, its not something one usually publicly broadcasts. My depression often hits regardless of circumstances (was very happy with everything last summer but had a brief woohaa then) but with all the above going on…I feel pretty shocking.
And I’m still expected to write a first draft of my Masters thesis in 16 days.

Yes there are always people a lot worse off than myself and at least I’ve got one friend who is willing to put me up for a bit. I’m a tough old bird and I know I’ll look back at all this and laugh, or use it for inspiration for something creative (seeing Evil on a crack buzz, moping yes moping her carpet while topless was pretty funny) but for now, its pretty damn shite.

I don’t want sympathy. I don’t know if anyone will have even read this far, I’m just sounding off and oddly feel a little better for writing a lot of it down.

Now I’m off to try and start that thesis.


PS Thank you to all the lovely people out there who have sent messages of support. Really appreciate it.

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