Dairy of how to become a junky ADHD mess…

Anyways…Work it out for yourself…

Was going to ring you earlier but then just went to bed again… Been spending more than the usual amount of time in bed recently. It is the time of year for it – nothing to worry about. Just a little cold and winter bringing onset a wee depression, no doubt.

Promised Mum I would make her a new compost bin as Dad is dying slowly along with the rotted out fence she has been piling compost against for two decades.

Aren’t we all. Dying that is. His clock took on a new rhythm for a while recently… Just to be clear, this was not a old sixties dance hall classic number. More drumb and base poured into a blender with Motorheads final Ace Of Spades renditions…

Went down to Mum n Dads to measure up previously mention compost bin… To be made from wood, with my own hands. Would prefer to cut one from alloy and weld nowadays. Am enjoying my new tools and skills always need sharpening. Tools need sharpening and new skills? Half a dozen of one, six of the other. Some shit anyway…

Told Dad I was being operated on within four weeks of the doctor seeing my bum. Dad, as usual, without fail, without preamble, without thought for anyone outside his one square foot of universe,

“they have always got me in real quick, like the time I showed up with…..”

(sure,
my judgement and memory may be clouded
with time, space and
interesting neurological experiments gone awry
nonetheless, seems like this is a reoccurring theme one cannot discount my memory and feelings as completely inaccurate)

“Dad, they only get you in quick if there’s emergency or something serious” was the somewhat necessary interruption.

Yet still he carried on about HIS operations.. Oblivious to fact, his fiction weighing heavily on the judge and jury of his own mind.

Having actually had more operating table excursions over my fourty years younger span of life, he doesn’t bother to remember anything about my issues, health or happiness. Nor, it seems, going so far as to suggest others problems have been trivial.

When he sees me wince with pain just standing still he says “oh, your back is getting like mine, hahahaha”. Yeah right, like he has had emergency spine surgery and pissed and poo’d himself walking to the hospital… Fuck he is such a self centred fuck…. Unbelievable… This is going to require a breath, a thought of something happy and a lot of self restraint. Would be nice to have that loverly Clarrissa here with some restraints, but she was already booked and tied up elsewhere…

So he tells me all about HIS for the hundredth time in as many visits. Tiresome in itself.

Interruption time again….

Must record one of these conversations. You may, even the most die hard retard apologist among you,  be sympathetic to that at least. He sure ain’t.

“So, you have any idea why they would get to me so quickly?” 

“I presume as they are quiet at the moment and I was seen in that amount of time after a doctor saw my collapsed viens in my……”

WTF? Are you serious? Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuckme, fukme, f’me….. Relaaaaaaaxxxxxx…. He may be just about dead and nothing is going to change the guy now, even if he did think anything about himself and his life was not perfect.

FUCK UP DAD , NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU.

(well, I tried. Honest)

Dad, chastised for once. Not a pretty sight as it happens…
“I never said it was about me”

DAD, EVERYTHING YOU HAVE SAID IS ABOUT YOU. NOT ONE SINGLE GENUINE QUESTION, OR SO MUCH AS EVEN FAKED INTEREST IN WHAT IS GOING ON FOR ME. AM BEING OPERATED ON TUESDAY MORNING JUST FOUR WEEKS AFTER A DOCTOR SAW THE LUMP IN MY BUTT CHEEK DAD. THAT WOULD SUGGEST IT IS IMPORTANT, WOULD IT NOT?

“I don’t know son, they see everyone as fast as they can…”

Remaining the calmest possible, given fourty years of this sort of conversation… Hell, you people reading it are bored of it already. Imagine the effect this has on a kid growing up, or indeed the fourty year old man still trying to grow up…

THE FUCKEN SPECIALIST GUY I AM SEEING AT HOSPITAL IS THE SAME GUY WHO TREATED YOUR DAUGHTER

(funnily enough, also known as my sister, who died of Cancer May7th a few years ago aged less than me)

“Oh yes, he seemed nice… Although your sister argued with him, he knows his stuff. Top guy, really really clever…” …OMG

Really not bothering to remain calm in face of this much narcissistic stupidity DAD, WHY THE FUCK WOULD I BE SEEING THE SAME GUY AS KATE ? WHY WOULD THEY OPERATE ON ME SO QUICK ? WHY AM I BOTHERING TO TELL YOU THIS AT ALL ?

 

“I don’t know Tony, they are a good hospital though…..”

 

Oh for fucksake, if he wasn’t already on the waiting list for the cremation table I would kill this bloody idiot…

DAD, THEY THINK I HAVE FUCKEN CANCER FOR FUCKSAKE. WHY ELSE WOULD I BE SEEING THE FUCKEN CANCER SPECIALIST? THEY *DO NOT* GET YOU INTO OPERATING ROOMS IN THIS BROKE ARSE HEALTH SYSTEM IN FOUR WEEKS FROM FIRST SEEING A DOCTOR WITHOUT IT BEING DEEMED IMPORTANT.


Just in case he managed to avoid the point (as proven, he is quite bloody well capable)

 

THEY THINK I HAVE CANCER DAD. But I don’t. The really really really clever people and their two times through the MRI, the X-Ray, the Ultrasound, the various specialists including a muscular skeletal guy have it wrong.

However, I am going in Monday to sort out the procedure and am in Tuesday to have half the weight of my right arse cheek cut out… Will be good to get the bloody thing out. Even though it’s not cancer, it is annoying me more and more recently…

 

“Oh, why didn’t you tell us?”

 

FUCK ME.

 

Work it out yourself. Seriously.

 

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Woke up today…

Woke up today. A normal thing to be doing. Just currently hate it.

Got up, well, sort of vertical as opposed to horizontal… Struggled to kitchen on this list*. Opened eyes to stare blindly into fridge… Pictures Saw this next to my fridge and, ADHD and DRUG ADDICTION experts will not be surprised, am now writing 700 words into WordPress instead of eating anything in the fridge.

Was stuck some place in November and drew this picture at top using paper stolen out a photocopier and a four colour pen “liberated” from an owner who did not use it (the black was almost empty) at first I only had a blue pen, thanks for the colour!

Also in November my kid must have drawn this picture at bottom (it is a calender, made by her school)… She is 12 now and have not seen her for a year almost, and will not see her, hear from her or get a Christmas or Birthday gift to her. Mum gave me this picture she drew last month.


Nothing to really look forward to.

Struggling to stay at all enthusiastic.

May be going to jail, have been evicted as “owner may want to sell”, have no where to go and have really run out of energy…… Just too much on my plate to deal with… am not coping…

Drugs and jail seem like good options when you have nothing to look forward to other than debt and stress. FRUSTRATION and being POWERLESS has lead me to be angry.

These arms are not self harm in the sense of the term.armsThey are, however, the result of hitting large windows without fear of hurting myself. This is not really self harm. No, really. It isn’t. Seriously. Fuck. Whatever… All you people with psych training can just piss right off…..

Am very lucky to be okay other than having bad bruising around ligaments and not being able to use right hand for anything without severe pain in the wrist and forearm…

Am very lucky the flying glass did not hurt anyone else too badly.

Am very very lucky these people are still talking with me….

At least via social media chat! Spent five hours from midnight on chat with the lady whom owns these windows. Guess we won’t be seeing much of each other in real life any longer. Totally fair. Cannot blame her for that. I agree. 

For she now looks at me like I am some violent criminal. God knows the Police and the local town gossip already have me fucked, but she was one who didn’t fall for their shit. She believed in me, but everything got too much. 

It is only a window.

But it is a loss far greater. 

 

Am struggling to stay on track as some people are worth staying on track for. For they have struggled too, and they care about others too. They care more about me then I seem to care for myself.

Thankful for some good friends in Wellington. Gave me money to make it home, and let me sleep off and on all day whilst they quietly stepped over me. Absolutely brilliant. I was holding back a flood of tears as he walked to my car to make sure it started at I was safely driving. My good friend from the coffee shoppe whom I care about greatly has been simply brilliant. Sure, I nag him and drag him outside his comfort zone and do all these things for him against his wishes.

He has stood by me no matter how annoying my life is for him. 

Am learning to care for myself, but still care for others first…

  • Some have headaches constantly, mine come and go.
  • Some have screwed up so badly, they don’t care and really fuck people over. I still care, just.
  • Some are content doing nothing. Am far from content, but appear to be doing nothing.

 

So, woke up today. Kind of wish I didn’t.

Coffee,
food,
a quick hug
from one of my chickens
may fix that.

For a time.


 

*LIST – noun

  1. a careening, or leaning to one side, as of a ship.

    verb
    (used without object)
  2. (of a ship or boat) to incline to one side; careen:
    The ship listed to starboard.

    verb
    (used with object)
  3. to cause (a vessel) to incline to one side:
    The shifting of the cargo listed the ship to port.
Origin 1620-30; origin uncertain
Synonyms 2, 3. tilt, slant, heel.

 

October 8th, awesome day, but 9th totally fucked me.

Having just wrote four hundred words on cellphone and WordPress lost it all, I am simply going to sum up… My best mate and beauty girl has to go. Used needles, so upsetting behavior.  Awake twenty hours, splitting headache, roosters crowing and I want sleep. Am not heartbroken, am truly shattered and just needing to get this yarn out. No matter how embarrassed I will be later, fuck you all. The cellphone screen is a blurry haze and my pathetic attempts at oblivion came to nothing, as they always have.

25 years of trying to destroy yourself, you think you’d have it sussed by now…

My young friend is awesome. Her future could be so great. She cares, she took me to family court, she is beautiful inside and out.

But she is complicated and dealing with addiction and mental health issues. She is also capable of some ruthless violence. I love her, admittedly.

Have tried, truly. We have had such a brilliant two days, and then seriously almost killed eachother. We faced up in public area. I admit that sometimes I see exactly what I am going to do, and it was not pretty. She had already managed to not cut me up or rearrange my skull, I could see that. But half an hour went by and she was still so shitty she was holding back from attacking me. She pissed me off so much I saw myself doing some stuff that I needed not to do. She has never seen me angry and not giving a fuck. It may surprise her. We were so close to seriously hurting eachother. I had already decided which bit of concrete her head would break on, but outwardly I was calm. I talked and joked with staff at the premises, I stole her cellphone from her lap as she went to drive off without my tools and bags. She refrained from whatever grizzly and horrid things she had planned. Even though we sat within hitting distance (oops, that was me. She kept moving away, although she was main aggressor, odd she was so keen to be violent yet stayed away..)

And, then an hour and she was still not talking and driving and stopping at gas station for hour without saying anything.

Another half hour of this driving down the motorway and I opened the door to get out. She stopped me by grabbing me, I think. No way was I allowed out.

Why would someone who wants me gone, stop me from leaving ?

Why is this crazily beautifully hearted young lady so willing to dismember me. Why aren’t I scared in the least of her? What hell will ensue if we both are bad at same times?

fuck. it is BaD enough without broken bones and blood. We would both give a decent job at that.

Fuck this. It will be jail. She cares, but everything is about her. Sometimes the world is not all about you. Hate to burst your lovely little 20year old haze of bubble.

She is lovely.

Yet I need her out my life right now.

Condemning myself to knowing no one in the area and financial and vehicle stress is not a nice thing.

She’s my best mate

And my most dangerous addiction.

I have to make her Not My Problem.

Am sorry and sad. After such a brilliant 40 hours, her Mum came out when we drove up to make sure we didn’t fight. I love this little scrawny LEGS girl.

I tried. I moved from Wellington for less drama and for a good friend. Looks like failed on both.

For I went and stuck a needle in my arm. I was crying and confused by my young friend. I was angry. I had been to family court and they treat me like shit. She was there, looking stunning in her jeans that are more see through lace than jeans.

Fucked if I know why she is my friend.

Or was my friend. For I did not her in that capacity for a while. Now it’s really fucked.  Wish she would let me, or others, help. I care and we can compliment eachother. We can
complicate eachother.

.

Almost killing your lovely LEGS best mate and most trusted secret keeper is not the path I want to be on.

90Percent of her is great. 10Percent leads me to smoking, needles and jail.

Can’t risk it any more. I loved some of the times together, and care for her and her problems more than she will allow me to help with.

She opens up to me like no one else, she claims.

But this old ugly man is closing the doors and locking them.

She has to be let go. But I am the one taking the fall. Sad. But house is rented to me. She has heaps of friends and family here. She should be fine.

Sent my only friend a message saying we can only spend five minutes a time with eachother and asked why she decided to care and look after and be my most trusted friend.

Got no reply.

Really sad, and not like me  but
NOT MY PROBLEM

I gotta stay out of jail, rescue some financial crisis and stay off drugs

I understand her past. She has good reason to be the way she is.

But can only grab what is in front of you by dropping whats in your hands…

Love you Legsies, good luck. Wish my friend will come back someday.

Aroha Nui girl…..

Time for this old worn out acne prone cripple to find some new friends.

But, no doubt, they will all be screwballs too

Hypertext can be bloody dangerous, you’re correct.

When you need a good kick in the head, along comes some really random stuff to do just that.

More specifically, kick my arse out of a rather gravity laden spiral (ie- downward) and into some sort of recovery.

Without allowing my ADHD out of the confining bag labelled “making sense to you, the unwashed masses” and delving off into the world of “recovery writing” I continue….

Heading to the Doctors on one of my brief Government approved outings to the real world I see REAL LIVE PEOPLE. And some real life live people know me. They, without realising, give me reason to be proud of the person whom was once me. For they followed some advice, learnt from my mistakes, or just plain thought “that crazy old wanker has a point” about something. Something learnt via my public self deflagrations had improved their lot. This was, although not up to the standard of instant gratification and happiness most junkies aspire to, rather uplifting.

Or was it just being outside in the sun with fresh air and real live people around?

And then, today, there is, after much fretting about opening gmail on my behalf, an astounding email from someone. Someone whom has found my email address somewhere or some other. And, somehow, decided to write something.

This amazes me every single time. People take time out of their own lives to write to me. My, currently rather pathetic excuse for a life, gets a boost from this.

If only I wasn’t yawning uncontrollably and struggling not to get back into bed at 3pm. For it has been a long day, old coffee mate comes over with a coffee at 11:30 so I pretend to have been “up and about” before he knocked. Borrowing his phone to call some members of officialdom whom have more than likely put my number on “block” lists proves futile- they obviously are avoiding everyone, not just me. He shows emotion at some of the communications that have been killing any amount of mojo and turning my head into what happens when you’ve been on a childs merry-go-round half an hour too long as an adult.

If not for struggling with simple things like bothering to check my own chin for food deposits before visiting doctors offices, I would take care to head some of this advice and MAKE SURE I ENJOY SOMETHING DESPITE THE CONTROLS AND STUPIDITY (I added the “stupidity” bit, admittedly) OF THE SYSTEM.

Sometimes I cannot open emails or web pages. For a few hours today I have managed it. It feels good.

Enough recovery for now. Season Three of AMERICAN HORROR STORY and a horizontal position in bed await closely.

I know the feeling of not being able to open certain web pages out of sheer, squirming anxiety….
This was appropriate when I was on home detention/probation for 12/6 months respectively for buyin’ the drugs off the ‘net, and I wasn’t allowed shit that could speak hypertext.
Don’t feel obligated to reply, I’m just writing in support.
Channel your energies into whatever gets you through.
I started cooking really nice food spent well over 600 hours playing open-world games on Xbox.
I remember I made a stollen with a log of marzipan through the middle.  Holy fuck, it was good….

The lesson for today is…

Hypertext can be bloody dangerous, you’re correct.

Also useful, given the errors WordPress online editing adds during cut and paste sessions…. 😉

…. an awesome morning with the football …

Had an awesome morning with the football team Saturday.

Car had broken clutch cable and tried to borrow two others. Long story was that they both died right outside their owners houses….

So, I RODE MY BLOODY MOUNTAIN BIKE TO PORIRUA FROM WELLINGTON. That is a fair hilke, so I cheated. A bag of footballs, a bag with boots, tops and gear…. And a mountain bike. 21km with a few uphills in the middle. Uhm – At 7am saturday morning with my dodgy spine? Not likely. So – TRAIN to Porirua from Wellington… Bike up hill… And…

FIRST ONE THERE.

2015_5_2_field

Beauty morning for it. Just after 8pm and the artificial turf out the back of the old forensic unit at the mental hospital looked stunning. Nothing like the problems the area was known for twenty years previously.

The kids started turning up, and I admit to being a little nervous after the events of the last week with the mother of my daughter proving beyond all reasonable doubt that she is a vindictive idiot and not actually even interested in paying lip service to her daughter spending time with her dad any longer. GROAN.

So, the kids were arriving, the parents were supportive, and I just got on with it. Rubbed one of the other coaches up the wrong way, but by relinquishing the role of “referee” they allowed me to break the rules and spend time on the field helping out my wayward team. The autistic, adhd, deaf and blind people lead by this one eye’d ginga did pretty well. Running around on the field and coaching whilst the game is underway should be allowed at this level. The kids really started working well with it…

One kid is great at being goalie, but I like seeing him out the field too. Hell, it was a great morning. My daughter was there complaining she was injured and attempting to play at half speed. This got her little sympathy, she is quite capable of playing. I know her better than people realise. She listened and ran. She listened and passed. She won player of the day.

Apart from her Mum had told the people whom gave her a lift to the game that I was going to steal her so they were not to let her travel or stay with me. Stupid, but that’s that. After 11 years of this crap, my daughters PLAYER OF THE DAY award was given to a girl who played right back as she had improved so much from the week previous.

Somewhat taken aback, the centre forward who scored all our goals looked annoyed. He will win it, bit today he didn’t listen to the coach and we could have won 4-3 if he had passed the ball on the inside to my daughter instead of trying to run through another three defenders all by himself.


DEMLEGS award for the player who ran to places to support her mates went to a young girl who plays left back. Really brilliantly. She listens, unlike most of the guys… She sprinted back on defence and cut some players down…

The award "DEM LEGS" is in honour of someone whom inspired me to believe in good people again. Thanks DEM LEGS.

The award “DEM LEGS” is in honour of someone whom inspired me to believe in good people again. Thanks DEM LEGS.

After the awards were handed out one of the kids Dads decided to ask if he could say something. “Of course”, I nodded at him. It was the centre forwards Dad… An nice American chap of very very very high esteem in the Wellington political arena….

“I, and all the other parents and supporters, have seen you improve EVERY SINGLE GAME and do you know why that is?”

Sensing impending embarrassment there is a prompt interruption from my good mouth – “Yes, it is due to spending MORE TIME TOGETHER as a team…” wink wink, nudge nudge…

“I, uhm, yes, quite correct. Uhm. Other than that, we really have to cheer your coach, NZFiend….”

Oh crap. Knew that was coming. A couple of Mums and Dads come up and ask quietly if I am okay and what is going on after the dramas during the week with my daughter being taken away and her mother and step dad punching me in front of the team…. I just say “it will be all right… It has to be…” and they nod, not fully believing…

WE DREW 3 – 3

Which, after 8-3 and 6-0 losses is very exciting!!!!

Happy times.


So, the sun is up, the kids have gone and there is another game being played. The same age group, but these kids train four times a week as part of an academy. And boy does it show.

These eleven year olds are playing better looking footy than the Phoenix. But, even then, the left winger listens to my advice and runs when suggested. He does a lot better and looks over to see if I have noticed. I wink and walk off.

He’ll probably never see me again.

But I will remember that little red head with the bullet left foot from the Tawa area. He may just go places with the right coaching and staying in school.


As for me? Feels like the only places I am capable of going are court or jail.

Football training tomorrow night. Really doubt my daughter will be there. Sadly I have no life at all outside of my daughter and football. Something which the vindictive are trying their best to take away.

Police, kids Mum and Family Court vs Me and my belief that I am capable of good.

Guess I’m fucked. Nothing better to do with my whole weekend than ride the whole way back to Wellington.

Which I did.

And now my spine is telling me off for it.

Tomorrow will put a new clutch cable in car. And not go anywhere near my kids Mums house.

Patience, not my favourite pathology

image

Waiting at Wellington Central #nzpolice for thirty minutes thus far. Am here to report an assault committed against me.

Unfortunately the mother of my daughter has decided to remove all access to my kid again. I should have had my kid last night. I would have been doing paper run with her.

But the mother has all the power and makes all the rules. She gives and takes as she likes.

Last night was great. An hour into football soccer training with ten kids aged ten or eleven, my daughters Mum and her partner (let us call him plank, or timber or some shit as he is a builder) went to take my daughter away early.

More in a minute, police here 

Football makes me proud. And broke.

givealittle_football_addict

Did not pay rent for a week or two in my Housing NZ 1940’s concrete box so my kid could pay her fee’s to play football this season.

Had a hell of a bad day with the stupid psych’ person from Sweden….

More on that another time. Needless to say our appontment was for 10am and she didn’t even come out her office until 10.40. At 11.40 she was busily trying to push me out her office and said “Although you display virtually all the characteristics of ADHD, I cannot give you an ADHD diagnosis as you will not let me talk to anyone from your childhood.” ..

But, I had said “there is no one I can think of for you to talk to.” My adopted Mum is 80 and has had her only child die and lives in a world of a little bubble. Anything upsetting or in conflict with her “perfect” memories of me as a perfect kid are not worth exploring with her. She is 80. She grows roses. She is… Well… Just leave her be for fucksake!

After a hell of a day there, I went got some crap tattoo’s on my back worked on a little. It was COLD and SORE. Really sore. Like… OUCH. Damn it. Wanted more done, but (secretly) was kind of happy when Sarge said “enough“.

chick_1

So, after all of that I meet the guy who runs the football clubs junior section.

He is a C.E.O of something reasonably important to Wellington and New Zealand. He is taller than me, fitter than me and fits into society more than me. Despite all this, whenever we see each other we manage to have a very good chat. About subjects which are contained in this blog, and others, such as perceived pedestrian safety on the new Arras bridge and War Memorial precinct. He has been part of this process to a small extent and explained his thoughts that the road would bring the odd vehicle through which would help prevent the place becoming a bad spot for young university chicky babes wondering home drunk every night. A quick discussion on safety, peoples underlying grouping issues… I have researched these sort of things. Even produced a product to help with this sorts of things. They have missed a few options that should have been included in this precinct. I would really try to help with this.

But no one will listen and I am unemployable. 

Therefore….

With all forms of self respect thrown into the nearest CCDHB Consultants asshole…

http://givealittle.co.nz/cause/jetscoachneedsboots#

AND HERE IS SOME OTHER NEW FOOTBALL STUFF.

Thanks to RUSSELL BRAND for sharing this…

F.C. UNITED OF MANCHESTER

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/football/teams/manchester-united/11540185/How-FC-United-rose-to-the-brink-of-the-big-time.html