Holy mother of Christ is my back sore

Damn it. If ever there was a reason or two to remind me of why I take drugs, being suicidal and in constant chronic pain are up there. But then comes along my real back pain. The one where I cannot get down the floor to take the rat out of the mouse trap… The one where I cannot get my shoes on. The one see’s me hunched over for hours each morning. The pain that, right now, is sending numbness, tingles and other odd sensations in alternating time scales down my legs.

Yeah. That. One.

Brilliant.

Just to let me know I am still alive, just in case I was tempted to forget, there is always the pain.

Thank god for opiates… Maybe I will take some. Have a lot of court stuff to get done apparently.

Psychologist Guy yesterday

Was interesting enough. Turns out the court had not given him the brief anyway, but he did have a copy of Annette Gray’s original and my response to it (which was interesting reading to say the least..! At least it was edited down to under fifteen pages…. Hahahahha)

Talked for two hours, by which time he was thoroughly sick of me. Fair enough. I don’t know many people whom survive two hours. He did well considering.

One thing to come out of it was that he said his report was not due until the 4th October but our next court date was scheduled for 2nd October. Assholes. The family court has to hear an application within three months. So, it appears to me, they have put in a court date at which NOTHING WILL HAPPEN, just to fulfil the obligations of the meaning of the “care of child” legislation. Arseholes, the lot of them. 

If only I was a lawyer. I would spot this sort of thing. Rather than thinking I had a small victory by getting the hearing extended to two full days, I would have paid more attention to the dates that the judge was rabbiting off in quick succession. 

On the positive side, I have been collecting many dead mice and rats from my traps on the kitchen floor. I don’t think my spiritual advisor would appreciate my plans of introducing their rotting maggot corpses to the all female lawyer offices via ballistic delivery.

Going Ballistic

Thankfully I am learning that my impulsive behaviour is problematic. 

I told the psych guy just that.

Actually, psych guy is a bit of an arse too. Like, they are all friendly when they talk to you, and then they twist shit around without talking with you further. At least I straightened him out on a few points. Like the way the mother of my daughter would prefer to run and hide from problems than face them. Call me an idiot, but I like to sort problems out then and there, no matter what the cost, and then honestly get over it the next morning. It pisses me off all over again when they are still angry with me, and I honestly don’t know why the next day. This is completely different from me holding grudges against people with power over me. That will stew and fester. Usually because they think they have won. Sometimes they do. But only because I refrain from launching rotting maggot mouse corpses into their workstations. 

“Random acts of self mutilation via awesomely bad tattooing” is way down the list. Check it in your DSM-V.

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