Recently child abuse has made much on the headlines. The Jimmy Saville case, abuse in institutions and so forth. These things are far from new. To be honest, I have been there. Often there are flashbacks. News headlines, something in the papers, odd things that crop up. There are dark memories, they never go away. Dates, times, they become blurred, over the years things become a bit foggy. The pain, like a dull ache, never goes away. There is anger too, bitterness, so many feelings. Over the years, I have learned to mask those feelings, more or less?
Mentioning  Saville maybe I can illustrate the sort of person he was. The incident happened some years back. Where is of little importance. He was smoking one of his cigars, obviously loving being centre stage, egoistic? certainly. As he smoked there where a few guys close by, they where forever after smokes, checking ash trays, picking up fag ends to make roll ups. It was their way of life. Saville saw them hovering nearby. Looking at them directly, he took his half smoked cigar, dropped it on the floor and deliberately ground it under his heel.
At this moment in time I am not able to go in to detail. My history is still too raw. It all started early in life with what maybe described as a dysfunctional family. Certainly I grew up differently. It has left many holes in my life. Personal relationships are no go. Parties, never been to one, ditto dances, weddings and so forth.

Coping

Since being diagnosed with Parkinson's it has been somewhat of a roller coaster ride. Physically there has been a range of health problems, bladder and bowel issues. Directly or indirectly related is a matter of debate?
Medication, after a some juggling and a few mishaps, has eased the actual tremor that often is an outward indication of the disease. As such, currently my physical condition is holding up quite well. My greater concern are the mental issues. For many years I have suffered from depression. For me it is normally a seasonal thing, my worst months,  December through to February. Due to circumstances much earlier in life my people skills, social interaction and so forth are quite limited to the extreme. The ability to form good, solid relationships is non existent. My one serious attempt at actually forming a long term relationship ended in appalling circumstances. We both got badly hurt. That was way back in the seventies. There have attempts since but usually ending painfully.
Yes, a lot  of folk prefer living alone and being single. However, living alone and with minimal social contact is difficult. Possibly I live to another vocabulary, love, affection, sharing the minutiae of daily living are alien to me. One tends to long for the physical aspects of partnerships. Someone to hug, to hold hands with, to share birthdays and special occasions with. That though is denied.
How does the Parkinson's fit in to this? Well, I find I am withdrawing further from people. It can be weeks before I  see even my next door neighbour. Crowded places have always been difficult to handle. That has now intensified, people worry me and there is a tendency to avoid. Mood swings are more erratic than ever. Recently I have experienced a few disconcerting moments of memory loss. Nothing major,but odd. For example using my credit card, a few times my mind has gone blank and I had no idea what the number was. In turn that has meant having my card locked. It has been the same for passwords on the computer.
One of the more worrying aspects of Parkinson's is that many sufferers in the longer term end up with dementia. That is scary and yes, it worries me. Currently I am coping with things. There is the thought that when I stop coping may be the time to quietly end things. To go out with a modicum of dignity. There is no family or any such complications and to be honest it is the way I prefer to go rather than end up a drooling, sad old old lady with little control over her daily life. In possibly what some may consider a cold blooded way of thinking, however, it is a logical consideration. Better than end up vegetating in some form of state institution.

Scribblings

A few years back I dabbled in short story writing. This began after I was asked to write something specific for a person I knew at that time. Basically I was given a kernel of an idea, an experience someone had, an idea and so forth. Sorting through my files, a few of these short stories came to light. One in particular was different for me to attempt. It revolves around a witch by the name of Avril.
To be honest, I am reluctant to delete it. Possibly I may attempt to contact folk within the Pagan and see how they respond? Suggestions welcome!

Adult Dawn: Tempted

Adult Dawn: Tempted

Tempted

Several years back, a time when I was going through a phase of turbulent upheaval, I began to write. Recently, like an itch that refuses to go away, I am tempted to dig out some of those early scribblings and revamp them. There is a short story, a longer piece of work and a third that I began with some encouragement from someone who was Pagan/Wicca. This was new territory for me, a blend of the mystic and actual factual history. It was a fascinating subject to be writing.  Mind, I am unsure if I have the notes and and early scripts of the third piece. That is the one I would like to begin again and I am quite tempted. There is a chance I can download the rough script from my old laptop. maybe, just maybe???

Worried

For quite a long period of time I have been suffering from increasingly painful feet. My GP referred me to a foot specialist. In turn he promptly passed me on to a podiatric surgeon. The interview was brief. Basically I required surgery, however, due to the fact that I live alone and was unable to arrange after care, I was refused surgery. There was an offer of cortisone injections. A stop gap really. My  GP and a senior consultant within the gender clinic where both unhappy with this outcome. Both agreed my hill walking was beneficial to me. Exactly what occurred I am unsure of. One thing I do know was that words where exchanged. The upshot of all this has seen me with another appointment with a surgeon for a second opinion. He was excellent, explaining exactly what was wrong with my feet and what corrective surgery entailed. Basically, I have arthritis in both feet. On one foot the bones around the big toe are totally fused. The other foot is heading the same way.Corrective surgery means some of the bone removed, plates and screws fitted and so forth. The surgeon is prepared to operate, on the proviso that someone collects me from the hospital. Fine, yes that is a problem but I shall try and sort something out.
There is one fly in the ointment, recently I have developed a tremor. There is a chance, according to the surgeon, it is the early stages of Parkinson's disease.Now I have to have to that checked out before surgery. That does worry me.
Addendum to the above.
 While away last week I lost a filling in my tooth and the tooth itself has broken down to the gum. Om my return I promptly registered with a dental surgery. Forms duly filled in, the receptionist asked if it was an emergency? Well, yes, I am in pain and need it sorted. The receptionist shuffled some papers and then told me I could have an appointment in a week's time and it  would cost me two hundred and forty pounds. Somewhat taken aback, I pointed out to her, that, as I had stated on the registration form, I am unemployed, registered disabled and receiving sickness benefit as well as a disability living allowance. Apparently none of that qualifies me for free dental treatment, odd?? Now I have had to complete a whole series of forms, send it of and wait for somewhere in the region of three weeks before I may receive treatment. Note, may receive, no guarantee on that! In the meantime I am living on a diet of paracetamol and codeine tablets. Probably overdosing on them, the boxes say not to be taken longer than three days???
What has happened to our national health service? It would seem that people come second to money, paperwork and quotas. It grieves me in some ways to see the way this country is heading. 'No money, living on a low income, sorry, you are only a second class person!' There is a two class system in this country, those who have and those who have not. Slowly but surely there grows a deep social divide and it beggars the question as to how far it may go?
The saga of my feet also continues. Yet again I am informed, by my GP this time, that surgery may not go ahead. Once more this is due to the fact I live on my own. For crying out loud, I could not fit another person in to my flat, even if I wanted to. Nine foot by eleven, three metres by four in new money. At least I am lined up for neurological tests for Parkinsons. From what I have been told that should happen somewhere in the region of three months.

Pondering

It has been a long while since I last posted on here; as of late things have taken a downward turn. The last time I managed to get away was more than six months ago. That has taken its toll, mentally as well as physically. Over the last couple of years I have had a persistent bladder problem, the prognosis is an over active or dysfunctional bladder. The last year has been bad, camping in the Cairngorms last winter I had to bail out after a really bad night with this problem; by morning I was suffering from hypothermia and frostbite. After yet another hospital appointment and another minor operation I had hoped the problem was resolved. This was not the case; things have worsened to the point where I now spend most of my time in the flat. Last week, I went to view a flat out of London, a nice flat, in sheltered housing. Unfortunately the people living there where so insular and inward looking it was unbelievable; I walked away, saddened by the attitude shown.
Fine, this may seem trivial compared to what some people have to put up with.However, I am reaching an all time low. Looking at things as they stand, I am single, am not in form of relationship nor am likely to to begin one. \Life becomes lonesome asI get older and considering  all in all, what am I contributing to society? The short answer is, nothing, I do not socialise and considering things I really question what difference it would make if I decided to quietly bow out while still ahead? Does that sound cold blooded? Consider for a moment the wider picture, society, (a society I may add, where in many respects I am an outsider, a misfit,) is now supporting me, I am no longer contributing. In ancient civilizations old folk work often relieve their society of the burden of keeping them by walking away and quietly dying; doing so with grace and dignity. Maybe that sort of time has come.  It weighs heavy on my mind and I ponder it over on a regular basis. Certainly it would be weeks, even months before anyone would realise I was not around and it would be so easy to just disappear..

Questions

After the latest budget plus all the proposed spending cuts, I feel a growing sense of anxiety. It raises the question of what I am doing in a society I am not really a part. There is that sense of standing on the outside looking in but not being able to participate. It is highly improbable that I will ever return to work for a variety of reasons; this means in turn I am not even contributing to society. Gradually I am begining to feel that I am caged, more and more restricted in what I am able to do. It beggars the question, what if I where to say enough is enough and quietly stand aside, bowing out with a degree of dignity? That is not a negative thing, it is more a case of practicality, of ceasing to be a burden to others. There is little room for folk in my position and I am fortunate with no family or next of kin. It may be a case of just tying up the loose ends and saying enough.

Different?

Someone recently commented to me that I relate better to inanimate things than to people. In many respects this is probably true. There is a feeling of detachment from people; people tend to worry me. That is not really related to recent major changes in my life; although certain aspects may in some ways contribute. With me matters go much further back in my history, it is part and parcel of the emotional baggage that unfortunately dogs my footsteps. Everyone carries a certain amount of that in their lives, good things and bad. Often we see, hear or experience something in our daily lives that triggers off a memory of a previous experience, of something that has happened previously. Our formative years, the early days of our lives are the ones that shape us as we grow and mature. Growing up outside of a family context does mean that I view things differently. Aspects of institutionalism still remain. Words like love and kinship are just that, words; they are alien to me, not a part of my vocabulary. Strict institutional upbringing has warped my personal view of the world. There is that sense of belonging that is a characteristic human trait; we need to belong, when that is missing it can leave a person feeling disjointed, apart, alienated and separated from society. As I have grown older so I have become a better actor and to some degree learned to mask my feelings and emotions. Underneath the surface though seethes an undercurrent of anger and bitterness; those things do not go away. Also, I have grown highly cynical and somewhat distrustful. Although not seriously prone to panic attacks, I do find when in crowded places and situations that I have to get out; there is a feeling akin to almost panic, uptight, hot, sweaty, my reaction is to beat a retreat. Situations like that can make travelling difficult. The tube is a nightmare and buses sometimes can be as bad. On some of the night runs to Scotland I have got off the coach feeling quite ill, partly due to the fact that I have spent the night uptight through having to sit next to someone I feel uncomfortable being so close to. Although I baulk at the reality of it the truth is that is how the rest of my life will probably be out of sync and one step removed from people.

Set back

Having just returned from the hospital I must admit to being a tad disconcerted. Having, over the last year or so a problem that has constantly reoccurred and has worried my GP due to the amount of blood I was losing. Initial tests failed to identify the problem; thus it meant an appointment with the surgeon who had carried out the original operation. An ultra sound scan was done; going by the results of that the surgeon has decided I have to go in to hospital both for tests and most likely surgery. This is something I am not exactly exited about; one or two spring trips that I had in mind will now probably have to be shelved. The thought of having yet more surgery is rather stressful too. Having got back on my feet and finally achieved a modicum of hill going ability, all be it a wee bit slower, this is frustrating and I am quite frankly not a happy bunny.

concern

Early last week I went down with a particularly nasty bladder infection. It is something that has occurred several times recently. On this occasion though it was much worse than normal. Apart from having little control of the bladder and having to run to the loo every couple of minutes, I was passing large quantities of blood and was in pain. My gp promptly put me on strong antibiotics. After waiting a week for test results to come back from the lab and consulting with a urologist my gp has said that I need to see the surgeon responsible for my operation. The concern is that I may have suffered some internal damage. This could require further surgery. So now I have to wait for further appointments, more examinations and internal probes. Oddly maybe, but I have no regrets over having surgery. Although I do have questions over lack of information, followup etc. It is now just a case of wait and see.

People

For whatever reason, I allowed myself to be persuaded to join up with a few other folk for a couple of days walking in the lake district. In some respects it highlights how confined my world has become. Being out with other people listening to their exchange of conversation, I felt alienated. it is not any ones fault. These are nice people. However, their talk was of friends, family, relationships. Normal, everyday things. Subjects though that are far removed from my daily life, unfamiliar, outside of my knowledge. My own conversation seemed trite, stilted. It was odd in a way, almost as if I was once removed, an observer looking through a window. People laughing, joking, exchanges of banter and good humour. Another world, once removed from mine. They left on the Sunday night, whereas I was staying on for another couple of days. Standing in the car park saying goodbye, I struggled with my emotions as they threatened to run riot. Biting my lip, trying to keep my voice steady when I was close to tears. Watching the cars tail lights disappearing in the distance, a sense of loss, of sadness, swept over me. Slowly I returned to the tent. Trying to occupy my mind, I cooked some supper and attempted to read. Finally though I gave up on both and just burrowed deep in to the cocoon of my sleeping bag to spend a long and listless night. The following day was just spent wandering out on the fells. The day I left was one of heavy rain, low clouds and dark, brooding sky. To be honest it matched my mood and I was glad to leave.

Preparing for winter

The weather is noticeably turning colder. Winter is approaching in no uncertain manner. This is the time of year that I find most difficult in the outdoors. In an earlier blog I mentioned dilation. Not kidney dilation either. It comes with the territory and is something I adhere to on an almost daily basis. Missing the odd day here and there is no problem though. However, it takes up the best part of an hour. It is tedious, a book is a must. Without a book I find that every few minutes I stare at the clock and Oh my, time can drag. As most folk will notice over on my outdoor blog, I am away often. At least, as long as I have enough cash to pay for a coach ticket. Doing these very personal necessities poses their own problems in winter. For a start, it is cold, very, sometimes and I can end up shaking with cold. Also, I use KY jelly, it does strange things when it gets cold. If temperatures are very low and my kit that I use are not protected the ky can freeze. It has happened. There is a limit to the amount of baby wipes I can carry. Normally I just grit my teeth and clean up with cold water. A few days back I received an e mail from a guy, anonymous. Not really a harmful e mail, but he was complaining that I was too explicit, too open about myself. Maybe I am, however, I have seen and have been very aware how these these issues are not discussed or aired. As a result folk are ignorant of the facts. They have strange misconceptions. One of those is that it is a case of a guy just wanting to dress up as woman. Psychiatrists and professional people world wide are now realising this is far from the case. It is not just the physical side of things. Things run a lot deeper than that. No one in their right mind would go through what people like myself go through just for the sheer fun of it. Maybe I am lucky in not having family. There are cases where families are torn apart by gender problems. Suicides are not that uncommon. For me it is extremely hard to explain things but I try. It is best to honest and if I make folk see things in a better light then that can only be good.

Isolated

Well, things have come a messy pass. Having recently returned from Scotland I find that there has been a civil court case held against me by my former employers. What is annoying is that I received no communication that this was going through. It was all done in my absence. Having contacted my solicitors they now inform me that it a civil matter and something they do not deal with. There is mention of court costs to the sum of several thousand pounds. Well, someone has fallen flat on their face there. My flat is devoid of almost all furniture. There is not even a bed, only my mattress. There is no cooker, microwave or fridge, only a chair. The few items of any value are my lap top and tv. The tv is a basic 14" thing. My lap top is the one thing of any intrinsic value, in that it is my window out in to the world. Obviously, to me my outdoor stuff is of more value. Monetary wise it is not worth that much at all. Having spent time trying to find out where I actually stand in all this, I am left feeling very isolated. One thing people can be assured of, I will not voluntarily let any bailiffs through the door. As it is, when I go away any time my lap top and a few other bits will not be left in the flat. If anyone come knocking at the door looking for cash things may well turn nasty.

Kids?

Today I had to take a bus journey. It was quite a busy bus and I took a seat upstairs near the back. Three teenage girls where sitting directly behind me on the long back bench seat. Almost as soon as sat down A string of verbal abuse, directed at me, began. The language, to put it mildly, was vulgar. No one could accuse me of being a prude but this was hard to accept. The girl directly behind me, was the obvious ring leader. She poke me on the shoulder. "Oi, you, what the f--k are you?" maybe I should have just got off the bus at that point and walked away? Why though, why should my life be dominated at the whim of three teenage girls? There was no reasoning with them. Their language and attitude was vitriolic. It was confrontational, abusive. My anger was rising, inside I was seething. Finally the ringleader stood up and stood over me. "You piece of s---, white trash." basically I told her to shut it, I had had enough, I just held eye contact, refusing to back down. She raised her voice even higher. "Shut it or I'll do you." Her two mates screeched encouragement. Her hand went to her jacket pocket. If she had gone any further I would have hit her and sod the consequences. Instead the three of them stalked off down the bus laughing and jeering. The rest of the passengers just sat there. It was obvious they did not want to be involved. usually when these things happen I somehow shrug it off, but this leaves me very unsettled, angry too. Confidence yet again eroded. It just raises yet more questions.

Big brother

Over the last few months, following legal advice, I have been unable to write here. After a police raid on my flat and subsequent arrest it appears that allegations had been made against me. Part of the problem relates back to my former employers. Having clashed with two managers, both homophobic and steeped in the aura of their own authority, I had challenged them. The whys and wherefores are too long and complicated to go in to. Truth was twisted and distorted, ridiculous allegations where made. The fact that someone such as myself had the temerity to stand up against them obviously was considered a challenge to their authority. Having lost everything, job, my own equipment, tools, holiday pay and so forth, I was angry, justifiably so. Further allegations where made. It now transpires that my blog pages where being monitored by various people. This includes the police, they actually admitted that and had taken sections of my scribblings as evidence. It makes one wonder, do they actually spend time checking up on my trips as well. The mind boggles at the thought of the police actually checking out my grid references etc. One more, my whole past was thrown in my face. My background, history, everything was mauled over and dragged out again for another public airing. Today, having been on police bail for several weeks, someone has finally realised that there is no case against me that would stand up in court and all charges have been dropped. How do I feel? Well, maybe a tad relieved, however, bitter and further removed from mainstream society. Slowly, slowly I am edging toward the idea of just walking out on everything.

frustration

Sitting here at the keyboard I realise it has now been three days since I last ventured out of doors. At present I am waiting on something I had to order before heading north once more. because of my daily dilation I need complete protection from the midges. That means a full size midge net. Something I currently do not have.
What have I been doing since my last trip. In some ways, not a lot. In other ways, spending much time trying to figure out the easiest way to move from London. Basically it all comes down to finance. Being on benefits puts me on the bottom of the finance ladder, or more likely, below it. Benefits means no mortgage. It would not be covered. Bank loan, sorry, without job security it is not feasible. Ok, get a job. Therein lies a problem. Sure I have a few skills, nothing on paper though. There is an added problem, a people problem, I am unable to work with other people. That is not an excuse, it is a reality. Maybe it is down to this aspurges thing. My last job, which was the first in several years,I struggled with for ten years until it finally blew up in my face. There is no way I am prepared to go through that again. My trip across Scotland has heightened those feelings. It was so difficult for me, emotionally and mentally. Taking charge, leading from the front, that is not my strong point. In fact, it is a struggle. Some nights I would go to sleep totally wrung out mentally. It is highly likely that is why I ended up with vertigo. It followed after some really bad nightmares, something that had not occurred for some time. On that particular night I remember waking up trying to scream, afraid. The sudden and violent waking with a jolting head movement,was enough to trigger a severe bout of vertigo.. That was confirmed when I checked out with a GP. So far I have contacted scores of estate agents about renting properties, advertised, spoke to local people gone through local newspapers, nothing. Not on my financial level anyway. In some ways I am tempted to just up and go. Dump everything and walk away. Gradually I have been getting rid of material things. My main fridge went to a neighbour all I am using now is an electric cool box. My microwave went to someone else. Cooking now is done on the draining board on whatever stove I happen to have fuel for. Currently I am cooking on meths. My large monitor/tv was swapped for a basic small tv. My dvd player has gone, ditto the high majority of my books. My furniture is down to basics, a chair and a bed. A lot of clothes went as well. Some of my outdoor gear has gone. A very light, but large tent will be given away to anyone who wants it. Maybe one of my smaller tents will go too. They are just things, they have no real importance. All my past, anything from earlier years has gone. In July I am meeting up with a few folk for a weekend on Dartmoor. Now that I am reverting back to mainly going solo, I am uneasy about it. As I have written before, a few people are genuine outcasts from mainstream society. They may be in society but are not a part of it. As I grow older I question many things; death, euthanasia, freedom of choice.

If

Having just come back from a trip north saw me looking through various blog sites, just catching up on what was happening out there.. In one there is a mention of a lone hiker who died in a remote area. It set me thinking, just reflecting on the events of the previous week. Throughout the bulk of the trip I felt unsettled. Not depressed Per SE, but not totally at ease either. A few times recently I have woken from bad, weird dreams. That has not happened for some time. One event in particular made me pause and think.Picking my way through an area of dense scrub and undergrowth I found myself funnelled down into deep gully. The bushes and small trees that enclosed it formed a perfect canopy over it. There was space underneath, a hollow, a natural chamber. Little in the way of natural light managed to filter through. My first though that came to mind was how tomb like it was. Slipping my rucksack off, I sat for a few moments, noticing the silence, the coolness, the tangy, earth smells. Unbidden the thought came, 'what a perfect place to die'. It was not in a morbid way, just a general acceptance of our own mortality. What could be more natural than to be absorbed back in to the very earth. No digging of a specialised hole in the ground, enclosed in a cheap wooden box, just another person being buried by some minister to whom I am a stranger.No marking of the place, just a plot number in some obscure church yard. When an animal dies on the hill it is not long before it's carcase is absorbed, the bones remains but even those are soon covered and become part of the Eco system too. It caused me to reflect on other things too. When I travel no one knows that I have gone. After all, for me, who is there to inform? There is no family, no close connections. Who would miss me? How long would it be before anyone realised I was missing? Definitely weeks, in all probability, months. Recently I have been stripping stuff down. My microwave has gone, my large fridge, some of my clothing, the majority of my books. My only furniture is a bed and a chair. So my possessions are few, there is nothing of real importance. If things did go wrong on the hill, I will not say 'the worst' because it really is not the worst case scenario, then ok, it happens. Better surely than existing out the later years in some cheap and tiny flat.

Cynical

Watching the news concerning the recent events in Jersey saddens me. It makes me wonder too. It is portrayed as something that is uncommon. Unfortunately that is not the case. Abuse in institutions in the UK has been an all too common event. Ok, nowadays there is much more scrutiny. having said that, I am sure it still occurs. In the past deaths, injuries, violence, abuse of authority, they have all been a too common occurrence. Often the powers that be would sooner not know exactly what happens inside the walls of these places. The type of people in these places had no voice to speak for them. They where not in the main stream of society. many had no family. If they died, the attitude was, 'well so what'! It was all too easy to ignore what happened.
Abuse occurs in many forms, from actual physical violence and sexual abuse, to abuse by medication, the liquid cosh. Heavy doses of tranquilizers, sleeping draughts and so forth. Drugs administered on an experimental basis. Electro convulsive therapy, usually administered with an anaesthetic but not always. It has all happened and in recent times too.
For me these things are very real. My own view of this dark side of society has left me with no trust in any form of authority. yes, I am highly cynical and I believe I have a right to be.
In answer to the person who e mailed me. Ok, I respect your request to remain anonymous. Yes, I could go further in to detail, however, I consider that this is not the place to do so. originally I had intended this place to be separate from my outdoor blogging site. Somehow though the two sites run parallel. It is obvious that anyone reading my outdoor blogs may wander in this direction. There are folks out there who know who I am. It would be too awkward and I would be uncomfortable with people knowing my background chapter and verse. Let me just say, I know what I am writing about. Yes, I have there, seen it all, experienced it first hand.
it is a common occurence that quite often staff in these forms of institutions are there because of their own personality disorders. Like attracts like. Studies have shown that people put in a position of authority over others will abuse that authority. It becomes a heady mix, authority equals power. In some cases, given their position of power, there are those who will accept no challenge from anyone, either staff or inmate. Some will relish that. Others, introduced in to a regime of authority and rule will become, over time, hardened to it so that gradually it becomes the norm.

Disquiet

Away over the Easter weekend. Spent the first couple of days walking solo. This is where I am most comfortable. The plan was to meet with a few other outdoor folk at a designated campsite. Due though to bad weather, basically a campsite that was a sea of mud, everyone moved to a bunkhouse. Ok, I coped with this not too badly. On the Saturday night though, something occcured that totally threw me. Without going in to details this was a situation that I would have considered to be in control of. On this occasion though that was not the case. For reasons I am unsure of, old memories came flooding back. There where feelings of guilt, memories of pain, of punishment. it was all there, so vivid, stark. These where things I thought had been dealt with, or at least, come to terms with. The whole thing scared me. If transport had been running on the Sunday I would have left there and then. As it was I just isolated through the day. Fortunately everyone was heading out to go walking. My excuse was that I had the start of a migrain. Emotionally I felt ripped apart. Even now, almost a week later, I am having difficulty understanding why I had such a strong, negative reaction. Possibly I am withdrawing further from society.
Certainly in the main I walk alone through life. Outcast is a handle that suits me well. As I grow older, I ponder at times if I am actually cursed. Yes, I have a certain social level but confidantes, really close friends, that is another story. Death is more often in my thoughts. A shadow of darkness. Pain, anger, these are things I have mentioned before. Why do I survive?