Dec 1

 The Bullshit ™ has been kicking my ass the last few days especially. It's embroiled with the bad nausea I had a few days ago. I had another Not Cool episode of it yesterday, this time whilst asleep.

I have the shakes. A subtle slow shaky set of hands, wobbly legs. Hold my hand out in front of me, it trembles. Uh huh.

Perhaps. If you take the view that the gut biome has a direct and strong connection to the rest of your wellbeing, then, it's not a surprise.

Eh it's ok. Come on end day. Finish me off already. What form will my collapse take. Come on. Get it over with. 

Today was therapy day.

The Bullshit was not kind. Today was very hard getting out. As I left the house my legs were shaking, I could feel them. And I felt so weak. So tired. But. Just do it Johnny. One foot in front of the other, grit teeth. Fuck it.

I moved slowly. Like treacle. Walking into a hurricane that you can't see.

I got to therapy and slumped. Literally. Head backwards. Everything was slow. And heavy. And I felt that exhausted ill. Adjacent to having a flu. But no fever.

Eventually I asked the shrink if they had questions. Last week they had many. They struggled to remember the context. Figures. The shrink is not a big note taker. I don't like putting them on the spot. If you can call it that, it's one of their weaknesses. I get it. I'm kinda the same myself.

But we did get back into it. Anger. Or the lack of it. The whole, childhood thing.

A core point I raised near the start was this after walking around it.

I have two subjective view points - one of which paints my childhood as one of neglect and at points abuse, and the other which thinks it can't have been that bad, I must be focusing on the bad bits, it was ok really, and it was the times back then, and for whatever reason, it must be fine.

I don't know which of those two is correct.

But. I said. Intellectually. I get it. This, and that and the other happened. Undeniable. Absolutely. It is a repeated pattern. Not a one off. Not a two or three off. Continual. For my whole childhood. And not just with myself. But my brother and sister too. I have two professionals who are in no uncertain terms telling me what that is. And. Yet. Like some butthole amateur I figure I can question the judgement of experts and say. But is it really ? And also. Denial of this stuff. Is part of the textbook. Literally.

We talked through it. I noted that if I removed the labels of neglect and abuse I had no problem with it. Yes. These things happened. And. I know. I know. That doesn't withstand the logical sniff test. It stinks of denial.

I said that in a way it was ok if it was just my path. My story. Doesn't relate to any outside context. These things happened. This is a thing. But. As soon as you attach an outside context to it. Those things are neglect. I dislike it. Because. It has consequences. And connotations.

At some point the shrink was again emphatic. There was no wiggle room or interpretation here. What was done to me was unacceptable. Straight up. No quibbles. No ifs buts or maybes. The shrink referred to the asthma incident.

Because I had said I had never thought of when I nearly died at that point from the angle of what did my parents do. To me. It was just something I dealt with. As a child. My parents don't figure in it. But. The shrinks horrified reaction to it. And I said that. You seemed horrified. I was horrified the shrink confirmed. Your reaction to it, not from my angle, but from the angle of what are your parents doing, made me look at it and think about it. And. Suddenly. Uh. Yeah. That's. Not right ?

The shrink reiterated. It's not acceptable that a child struggling to breathe, wondering if they're going to make it, is left on their own to deal with it. 

Sure I said without much enthusiasm.

What would you do in that situation the shrink said. Well sure. I know. I know that none of the choices my parents made about anything would be my choices. If that was me. If that was my kid. I would be very worried about it. Very. I would immediately seek local medical help, a doctor, something like that, and probably after a few minutes of not being able to resolve that, I would take my kid to the hospital. No ifs or buts. We would head straight to emergency. And get medical help.

If. I sat there and did nothing instead.... I don't know. Forget the morality of it - which is awful. I would ask myself. Just the not doing itself. What is wrong with you. DO something. It's. Inconceivable. Inconceivable I could do such a thing. It would be.... What. What is happening. Are you having some kind of mental crisis. Have you. Are you.. no longer...

I didn't finish the sentence. I paused at making that level of condemnation because really, we're talking about my parents here.

Human. Finished the shrink. 

Yes. Are you no longer human.

Pause.

But I said. I am not. Angry about it. I. Get it. People are flawed and problematic. Humanity as a whole is... I scrunched up my face... rough around the edges.

I could see the shrink silently judging me for rationalising away my parents failures. I got it.

I am not, I said, rationalising it away. ( ho ho ). It's just part of.. understanding how people are. How everything is.

Also, at the time. I didn't think anything of it. 

Of course said the shrink and then properly got into it. Because this is what was normal for you. Being left on your own, a complete neglect was normal. Also as a child it's a survival mechanism. It is dangerous to think that your parents are not caring for you. You can't entertain it. This is the theme throughout your childhood. This angle was new to me. Some serious shrink terms there, a danger to think you're not cared for ?

But I said. There was no conscious idea of that. I wasn't afraid of saying that. I felt nothing I said. It was just something I had to deal with. It's not something I was struggling with. It was a thing. I dealt with. And got on with it.

No said the shrink. There doesn't have to be a cognitive side to it. In fact not at all. It's not a conscious thought. This is just how you have to be. Subconsciously.

Uh huh.

I thought about this. I re-iterated there was nothing there. Not anger. I said. It's a bit like not knowing what blue is. I don't know what I am missing. It's not in my world. I have no concept of blue. To me. I just had to deal with dying on my ass from asthma on my own.

We talked a little about my friends points. About his experience with his parents and their level of care. Where he had cleaned up for his brother. And his parents expressed worry and praise and etc. And I noted that direct comparison had upset me. Because. It was very clear. That was normal. And what I had was abnormal. And it makes it very real. Moves it from the possibly, probably, into another one of those shoe drop moments. Oh. That's very definitely a thing. And he had said I was neglected. The shrink agreed.

I also related the bit about him dealing with a kids shoes. Where they were basically gone. And he had to remind the parents of their responsibilities. And that was neglect. And how I found it surprising that was neglect, and related what happened to my brother with the bin bag - my dad sending him to school with a bin bag. As a coat.

Apparently. I hadn't told the shrink that. I thought I had. The shrink. Was again. Suitably horrified. And shook their head.

I noted that my friend had said, if that had happened, or happens now under his watch. That would absolutely trigger a neglect investigation. And. Hard questions asked about whether the parents are capable of giving adequate care to their children.

I said I was kind of surprised it was that level. To me. It felt. Kind of normal. And my friend had also pointed out, of course I thought that was normal, that's what you were raised as !

The shrink agreed. Neglect. In some cases abuse.

But I was careful here.  I said I am confident my dad didn't do the bin bag thing maliciously. It was just. Very him. Different. You can call it what you like. On some spectrum - difficulty in understand what's appropriate or not. Eccentric.

But it didn't matter. It still falls into a, "you're not looking after your child" issue. Eccentric or not.

Which I understand. I did say that even if you are "eccentric" there should be some capability to question yourself and say, ah, this isn't right, I need to modify what I am doing here.

In any case. Bigger picture 

I said I understood. I have two professionals here telling me in no uncertain terms what all of this. But. I am wrestling with it.

We also discussed the whole, if being understanding and passive is not the way for this, if it deserves anger. That there is no point to it. My mom is gone. My dad is not who he was. Confronting him is pointless ? You will either get rejection, anger, denial. Or acceptance, horror and a crisis. Either way. What is the point. He is at the end of his life. It's not helpful. For him. For me. For anyone. 

Yes the shrink said. Anger doesn't mean confrontation. But. Because there is nothing at the end of it, because you don't get anything - I said it doesn't help - yes said the shrink, because there is no useful resolution doesn't matter. It's the process of going through that. Not confrontation. But being angry about it. And processing it. 

There were a few bits in there that were new to the shrink. That also caused a horrified take. Oh. Didn't I mention that. Yeah. They used to do that. Take glee in being assholes to you. And that you could dance on their graves when they were dead. Or kick them down the stairs when they were old. This was the continual combative spirit that existed. Not nurturing. Knives out. Survive.

The shrink by this point had remembered where they were.

One of the questions I had, was how anger looked like in your house. Were you angry. Your parents. How did that look the shrink asked.

Interesting question.

I was not allowed to be angry. So I wasn't. The only person I could be angry with was my brother. Who would purposefully goad me into anger to watch my "rage out" transformation. He thought it was funny. He wasn't being mean. He would pin me down wrestling style. And then wait for me to rage out into beserk mode. And lift him off me. He found it funny and amazing that I would turn into this pure ball of enraged strength.

My dad. Was generally placid. He did get angry. But I said. There was. Always. A threat with my dad. It was the opposite of cuddly or friendly or supportive or interested. It was. An undertone. Of threat. Dominance. I said you could see this more outside of home. In that he intimidated everyone. The "hardest fucker in the area". He would continually square up to people. I made pains to explain though, that he wasn't imbalanced, going around with random violence. But. He wouldn't avoid it. Ever. Any "misbehaviour" around him and he would sort it. First with a warning. But absolutely backed up with violence. I reflected it was that interesting thing. About dominance. And hierarchy. And how that 90% of time it doesn't come to blows. But there is a pack order that sorts itself out. The Big Dog. And my dad was always at the top of that hierarchy. Even around legit murderers and all sorts. There was a certain. No fucks given.

The shrink understood. A prevalent menace.

Yeah I said.

I mean. He slept with a machete under his pillow for a while.

I laughed. The shrink however was shocked. Again.

Yeah well. I said. Maybe that's more of an Eastend culture thing.

But I specified again. Don't get me wrong here. I want to make it clear my dad wasn't a lunatic. To not over egg it. 

But. My dad did get angry. And when he did it was unpredictable. It could absolutely go all the way. Also. I didn't understand at the time. But there was an immaturity to it. I said as an adult I understood that better. That sulky, arms crossed pout aspect of it. And petty. 

And then there was my mom.

Always picking a fight. Always arguing. Always looking for trouble. Easy to violence. I noted my recent realisation that my mom took a delight in being angry. A delight in being violent. When I caught her arms mid whack. And she just laughed. She was energised by it. Empowered.

Yes the shrink said. That was what I was thinking. She felt powerful.

I said I had thought about it in my hedge witch therapist role. And supposed that this was her releasing her pain, trauma, whatever in a cathartic blow. It made her feel better. In control. And unfortunately. Her target was me.

The shrink asked where my mom would hit me. I said she made sure she hit all of us with her rings. Like a knuckle duster. It was openly discussed.

Always the head I said. Always. You'd get a crack from the rings she had on that would hurt a lot. 

We left it there. Time had run out. Again.

The shrink did note that my not being able to resolve something was unusual for me no ?

Yes.

But I do crunch things all the time. This is what I do. Or did. Or do. Always number crunching the universe. If that, then this. Solving each bit of the big questions step by step. But. Yeah.

I had a point here with what appeared to me two subjective things. And I couldn't tell which was what.

I had to slowly process it.

I also said that it was notable when I talked about this properly. It upset me. Which. Probably tells you something.

It does said the shrink.

But then again I Said. I know we can spiral - I can spiral. Getting ourselves in a tizz. Perhaps I am just spiralling. And depending where I am with my meds. I am not always emotionally stable.

But eh.

It's clear what the shrink thinks.

And I do get it.

But I am many things. And my intellectual, librarian, all knowing smart ass is just one bit of me. Knowing something. Is not living it. Is not grokking it. Being zen with it.

Until next week.

As we left. I asked if I could ask a personal question.

You can ask said the shrink.

I wanted to know how they felt.

They paused. Boundaries.

Why are you asking.

Because. I like knowing people. Getting to know people.

We talked briefly about our relationship.

We left some of it hanging in the air.

I think really. I am just looking to connect to them a little. I know. It's not what you do. I know. 

I think I need to connect to people. I think it's connected to that problematic childhood. I need to know people are there. And not absent.

I don't know.

Fuck it all.

I left therapy feeling blitzed. I had over burned a little in the middle. In an already burned out state. For fuck sakes. The problem is. Sometimes. My brain can fire up. Let's do the thing. And it burns. It burns energy I. Do. Not. Have. It doesn't care. Like a horse with a bit between its teeth. Goooo.

I had to pick up some groceries on the way home.

This felt like pure torture. A mountain to climb. Impossible.

I just grit my teeth. Breathe. In. Out. Block out the wobbles. The awful feeling of illness. The dizzy. Grit your teeth. Just get the bare minimum. In. Out. Easy. Just a few bits. In. Out. 

I did that. Only half aware of my surroundings. Suppressing all the alarms. All the flashing red lights. Put a lid on it.

It crossed my mind absently what would happen if I hit the floor in Sainsburys.

Not for the first time.

It wouldn't be good.

Keep going. Keep going until you can't. Ignore what your body is telling you. Just push. You can keep pushing until you pass out. That will be your measure. And we will deal with that if it happens.

Home.

Getting the two bags out of the car. So slow. So hard. So awful. Concentrate on breathing.

My god.

This is so hard.

Like running a marathon.

Done.

Slump into bed.

Leave me alone.

...

...

...

I need to tell my siblings all this stuff. I forgot to ask the shrinks advice. Bring it up. Or leave it. Poke the bear. Or let sleeping dogs lie. 

Also. There is an amused part of me that wonders how many times I can be told the same thing emphatically with no wiggle room and still not accept it. 

Life.

Is too hard.

Still looking for my exit. It ghosted past me yesterday when my nausea kicked in again. Not worth it. Just. Go. Leave everything behind. It will be ok Johnny. Let go.

Still here.