Facebook Entry – 30 July 2012 at 10:38
Are you a non person? Today is NPD = Non Person Day. Cut and paste this useless dribble into your wall, if you like me are a non person!
I Am Forgotten:
I love the animals here, but l hate living here, for many reasons, conspiratal, emotional, financial but most of all some basic needs make life nigh on impossible at times.
Why is this process taking so long?
It is irksome at times that sometimes the most basic of needs cannot be met.
A requirement for milk and bread, requires a five-mile round trip by foot. I can do it, but there are times when my motivations for such endeavours are not present and l worry about my dogs in my absence, maybe l should just smoke more, just not eat.
The renters in the front are but twelve feet away, both drive, both are here today, yet the asking of a simple favour and it was rejected. I do not often ask anything from people if l can help it, and l am not prone to ask anything of the renters on a regular basis. I am always polite to them, and help where l can … yet if l ask, l am looked at disdainfully or like a twelve-year-old child nuisance? Friends of the landlords, the front renters are human persons
Gotta laugh or l’ll go nuts! Not much longer, l can do it, l will do it! We will do it!
Blog Entry – 30th July 2019 – 7 years on today.
Living in the caravan all those years ago, did have benefits such as the scenery, the tranquility and calmness, well when working with the animals, the horses and the dogs, not the people, most assuredly not the landlords who were two of the most nastiest people l have ever known, which is saying something because l have known some real bastards in my time, but Him and Her and let’s not forget Little Him – the son were judgemental and heinous in their approach to me in general. I made the mistake when l first arrived to rent with my two dogs Scrappy and Dora that l was on the spectrum with my Aspergers in 2009. I didn’t say anything detrimental about it, just that l had been diagnosed formerly in 2008 and that l was in the process of rediscovering who l was?
I don’t regret much in my life, because life’s too short to hold onto bitterness and regrets. It’s not saying l don’t have regrets, l do, everyone does, but it’s what you do with them, it’s how you live with decisions or moments in your life and then, well then it’s living your life with those – be that good, bad or just downright ugly.
Should l have stopped at the junction later, shorter, should l have not been there? One of the biggest questions l have ever asked myself when l think back to 1987. But life was destined to be as it was that day, it mattered not that l was at that junction. Life took control! Live with it, that was hard, but through thick and thin l have bounced back, l fall down, l get back up, l fall again and then it’s case of wash, rinse and repeat, it’s not rocket science.
The day you can’t get back up, is the day that maybe you never will, or you’re not trying hard enough, as long as l have breath in my body, l will bloody well get back up!
So l never thought anything untoward of telling people about my Aspergers … after the caravan, a little bit of my soul died, l have been working on the rebirth of that ever since.
You know we all have ALL OF US, those terrible Top Gun moments, when we are in a spin, desperate to get back up. If we are lucky we can right ourselves, right there, then, that moment …. but sometimes you spin out of control and crash and burn, and a little bit of your soul dies that day. But we all have the ability to rise from those flames, but we have to want to! Really fucking want to!
It’s not easy and made harder if your confidences, motivations and positivity has left you.
The first year of the caravan for me was really good, the landlords knew how to reel you in and treat you like a human, a peron, a human person! I worked with the horses and became very good at my job. But come 2010, they changed. Life Changed. My life changed for the worse!
My parents would come to criticise me for my poor decision making for taking up residence in the caravan, but they have never truly understood me, my father never understood his son, didn’t bother – just tolerated his presence, even towards his end, was l recognised by him? No.
No, don’t read that as me being bitter, it was his way, our way, the way of us, the way of a father and son, who didn’t know each other, the way of a father and son, where the father appreciated his daughter more – “Hell at least she is normal!”
My ex – wife said that constantly, “Hell, why are you NOT normal like everyone else??”
On the 30th July 2012, literally a few months away from leaving the caravan for the rest of my life, a completely broken man, no confidence, vulnerable, scared of my own shadow, self-harming, contemplating suicide daily and if not for my dogs, a path l would have taken gladly to escape the pain, the humiliation of being an Aspergian and apparently not normal. It mattered not that in 2010 l had finally settled on who l was, who l was meant to be, l was now the man the boy had been born to be.
I was confident, alert, self aware and very proud person indeed … l was me, just me.
But the moment my confidence appeared, the landlords changed and they broke me in the two years that followed. They threatened me, they threatened my two and only best friends in the world. My dogs and l were subjected to a long list of awful for 25 months. The last few months in 2012 before we left, well they were the hardest. I was bloodied daily by my own blades. I cut to stay awake, to stay sane, to stay me, to stay awake, to stay mentally active … but l did have breath still, and with every ounce l had l battled to get away to preserve what little dignity l had left, which wasn’t much, but for the safety of my dogs and my life l cut.
My arms these days hold the gruesomeness of those days, my forearms carry a badge of victory, each cut scar tells a story of its own, a darkened memory of what l had to endure to get out, to get through, to pick myself up again, to get us out from the clutches of the Hellbox!
But l did it, here l sit seven years later looking at that Facebook entry and remembering what l did to pick myself up, to act as a human subservient, as a non person, as a non entity which is what l was called daily “OY non person, get over here! Who do you think you are? Why are you smiling, stop smiling! Stop smiling or l’ll hurt the dogs, bet they can’t get around with broken legs! Oh l see, not smiling now are we? Well you would be better served in remembering who the actual persons are here matey!!”
Writing this today, with my ‘well fuck you l survived’ attitude, and whilst it pains me to remember this, which is why l don’t dwell mentally for too long in the years 2010 – 2012, my poetry tells that story for me. But l made it, l picked myself up and recovered, rebuilt and repaired my life, l found my happiness again, l found me again and l survived hell!
The motto of this is this … “If you fall, pick yourself back up, don’t allow the negativity to keep you there, if no one can help you up, just fucking get up, crawl, crouch, bend, up! Also, ‘laugh’, trust me, when times are bad, the ability to laugh at yourself and find humour in everything no matter how bad it is, will keep you sane, even when you think you are not, laugh! Laugh it off, laugh to yourself, just bloody laugh laugh!”
“Fall seven times, rise eight times, life begins now.”
Nana korobi yaoki jinsei wa kore kara da