Today I just can not get my engine going. I’m determined to get some writing done. Nothing for practice, but for emotional release.
I’m going to try and sit for a while and write about what’s been bothering me recently.
It’s so difficult to find time though, around basic housework that needs to be done. It’s like my mind is fighting my attempts at some order & routine, like it always does. But I try my best to fight through, so the house does not descend into chaos, resembling my general mind state. But then, as usual it’s not as bad as it was two years ago.
Two years ago I lived in a flat that I felt very unsafe in. My partner and I were in receipt of pointless and childish homophobic abuse. We were on edge 24/7 after the kids (yes, kids) smashed our window.
It’s only kids right? Wrong! With an adult you can at least try to talk to them. Children who are already if that bullying mentality hear no-one aside from their peers.
We contacted the police and although they weren’t completely useless no good came out of our suffering, nothing was actually done about this.
There were incidents where we would call the police, as they said we should EVERY TIME something happened.
At first we did just that, but after months of a call back at least 4 days after the event & then a week of hassle from them to get an interview in while the event was still fresh, because they had to get it sorted within a time period but waited to contact us.
At one point we received a call two weeks after we called them, the local police base. Not station, we don’t have them anymore.
Well, anyway we received this call at about 9pm just as we were exiting St Thomas’ hospital in Waterloo where my Partner’s dad was an inpatient for a month. The minute the phone was answered we were being pestered into letting them come round that night after 11pm when we got in. My lady was distraught. She was so worried about her dad and we were both in much worse state than we are even now. We struggled with getting out the house just as much as we do now, so heading up to the city was a huge event for us. There was no way we were having them round & risk both of us being so anxious we didn’t sleep that night, and maybe the next.
Most of the whole experience was made up of examples the same or similar to this, that’s ofcourse if the Police bothered contacting us at all.
I’m telling you all of this because today I found out my old flat is finally in the process if being demolished. The flat where all of this happened. We were such a mess by the time we left.
We were told we had to be out over a year ago, we were convinced at some point that the building would be demolished with us in it.
We were the last residents out of at 62 flats and houses, it was like living in a ghost building.
There were squatters, thieving shits that scared the shit out of us, blocked up fire exits, and squatters that we heard being deliberately blocked in a flat. The fire service had to come and get them out. We called them, no one else was around & they would have been left there if we hadn’t heard them banging.
All I can think, remembering all of this is how much disbelief I am in when I think about just how much shit happened in the three very long years Kat lived there ( I moved in half way through, officially).
My life is so different now, I’m still not at all well, as is the same with my partner. But we feel safe, which is such a great basis for our recovery.
We stuck it out, and here we are.
So today I will ponder on this, a positive outcome. I will try while I go about the usual bits & bobs of the mind numbing samesness.