Hot off the Press – 15th June 2021

Hot off the Press

Change does not come easy.

So, I guess my posts these days have become more of a Hot Off the Press edition. Today, I’m writing on a Friday morning and every day this week I’ve been needing the pennies to stop dropping if you feel me.

There is just something fucking new every frigging day, I’m up to pussy’s bow, the end of my rope, not sure my nerves will cope with much more.

You may be aware, earlier this year I may have mentioned my shrink (makes me sound crazier). My psychologist is wanting to retire. WHAT? I know.

She’s mentioned for a while now, over more recent years and I’ve been in denial, obviously at some point she decided she was more and more serious and in 2021, it’s happened. She’s winding down. Very sad face!

You see, I’ve been seeing her for 13 years, I know, still not fixed (That’s a mental health joke!). I tried to entice her to stay, but I haven’t unpacked my baggage from my teenage years yet. I think we all know I have, but she could not be encouraged to work forever.

I asked if I could have half my money back, as I’ve got to start again with someone new.

Anyway, this week I found out why I’ve been unable to nail down my Support Co-coordinator (fancy name for a case manager). I’d been told she was sick, I now also imagine she’s been doing a job trial for her new job, because she’s leaving. Meanwhile, I don’t know if my new shoes have been paid for? Well, they haven’t and I guess now, I’m making sure all the wheels are turning.

Because the NDIA makes sure everyone else gets paid, even if they haven’t been doing their jobs. So, of course I started making calls. Like I don’t have enough to do already? FFS!

Have been meaning to do this blog post for days and yesterday I realized why I hadn’t, all the pennies had yet to drop.

Thursday, found out I’m also getting a new Occupational Therapist (OT). Are you breaking up with me too? So yes. She did too. I’d only had this OT a few months as I’d finally kicked the last rubbish OT to the curb.

2020 is still kicking me in the pants and I’m over having to rehash all the things. FFS!

I need a cheat sheet!

Wednesday, I heard (got a text!), I’m at 81% of my year’s funding and it ends in December. So, I need a review and my support coordinator better bring her A-game.

The NDIA like to give you just enough funding to cover you for 10 months of the year and then you have to go beg for more, by which time they have moved the goal posts to mean you can’t have what you previously had. I also heard the NDIA has trialed a new ‘thing’, it’s called Personas (Independent assessment) and an algorithm.

It’s just a funny way to put us all in little boxes as if we need the same things. We will all hurry the fuck up and go do study, or just get a job and not be a drain on the Australian government. It’s like they realized people with disabilities deserve a normal life and things and human rights. Until they realized how expensive having ethics is. Then they’ve tried to take out the human element so they can be more economized.

Advocacy never ends does it.

On the upside, Smith Street in Collingwood was voted the best street in the world! Voted by the editors of Smith Street has been named the coolest street in the world (timeout.com)

I got to catch up with Noelle last night by phone. I’ve started calling her every few weeks to chat. We were commiserating over how bitterly cold it got all of a sudden. Winter has hit. And Melbourne has come out of lockdown 4.0. We still need to wear masks and Noelle is in Sydney and they do not.

So, I just tease her at least we have heaters in Melbourne. They had their coldest day on record in 37 years yesterday and the rivalry continues between Sydney and Melbourne.

We still have better coffee, art and street culture. I mean they don’t even have a National Gallery, it’s in Canberra. WT Firetruck!? (Trying to swear less, is it working?)

We have the MCG and the laneway street art; Melbourne has all these things. Just saying.

Trying to end on an upbeat.

Anonymous

Anonymous

I think I might need to write a book one day, which I will need to publish under a pseudonym and that would be because it would definitely require a warning about antidepressants and a requirement from pharmaceuticals to do something about the crazy dreams I keep having.

Case in point:

I’m with a group of guys (I don’t know, but I seem to in this reality), a guy is walking me around a shop pointing out which things to grab. He seems not to care who sees or hears him. We are in a shop with jewellery, crystals and incense. There are a lot of crystal figurines and such, it’s not a place I recognise.

Later in the evening, I’m back in the shop with now a group of guys, I’m walking around grabbing the items that were earlier pointed out to me. I put my hand into my bag and pull out my Nanna granny shopping bag. I find it’s inside out and I can’t quickly put it in the right way one handed. I ask the guy closest to me if he will help and we both notice at the same time he has a matching bag. We wordlessly brush it off. Embarrassing and I put the items in my bag anyway.

We escape the shop as the police arrive, darting down a quiet street in a residential area. It’s a long weekend and there are a few taxi’s about to fill up with families, young children and luggage. There are terrace houses, I don’t recognise with small front yards and a footpath that cuts along the first of all of them.

I’m alone now, walking along the footpath that is raised up along an embankment. I don’t remember which house I’m to go in. I’m not faster than the guys, just got there a different way. Two of the guys are now nearby telling me which house to duck into.

Later, I’m moving through a busy marketplace and going down some metal stairs with a handrail. Not very accessible but I manage going down my left foot on each step.

Left foot. Left foot.

My adrenaline is rushing. I get to the bottom of the steps and I’m in a weird kinda tattoo/hairdressers. One of the guys I was with earlier is standing there and before he had longer hair and now, he has a very blunt doo at just under his ears. Not stylish at all. While we are not alone, I still give him some sass. I give him some shit about his new hairdo, it’s terrible.

It was done so he can be unrecognisable if he is caught. All of a sudden, I realise my hair is down, all curly and fluffy around my shoulders. I feel the whizzing around my head.

Next, the police come in behind me, I’m on my knees and the haircut is nearly complete. My lost vision as I came awake is me with a mostly buzzed off hairstyle with what was left of my hair coming out from somewhere off the top/back of my head, a long thick dry messy plait.

I’m told, dreams are from a parallel universe, I just think pharmaceutical companies could do something better.

Please hit ‘Like’ if you made it this far.

I woke from this dream this morning and it’s taken all day to write it own. Are your dreams as vivid?

 

Wake Up Dead

Wake Up Dead

Is it just me or am I crazy? (don’t answer that!) I get that I have a lot of migraines. I get that I would rather sleep to fix my migraines than take pills. I’m not saying I’m completely against drugs. I’m just suggesting my first option is always sleep, chiropractor, sleep, then drugs.

However, when I go to bed at 7pm, it’s fucking serious. I don’t even think I want to go to bed that early as a baby. It’s even more serious if I send a message to family to ask them to check on me in the morning in case, I wake up dead.

This generally gets a thumbs up, just saying. Is it normal that family don’t think to follow up?

Anyone?

This happen to anyone else?

Please Comment

 

Today’s Lunch – 9th January 2019

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

Sometimes good things happen when least expected and even better if I can give a life lesson. You know I worked in nightclubs back in the 90’s for 5 years? Yeah, it felt like 10, but it was intense three to six nights a week. No drugs and barely any alcohol. Yeah so last week I had lunch with a chick I knew from back in those days. Yes, we were friends yet I hadn’t seen her since those days, losing touch because I moved back to the country for two years and her relocating across the ditch. This was before everybody had a mobile phone.

While my club career added to my skill set, it didn’t lead to further employment shall we say.
However, meet Skye Bromberg. She was the receptionist at some of the clubs I worked at and the Door-Bitch at another. Telling young guys in bad suits they couldn’t enter the club because she “couldn’t guarantee their safety”, (because the regular patrons would want to sort them out)
Club work really can lead to bigger and better careers.

http://www.abc.net.au/local/videos/2010/11/04/3056809.htm

And here is Mika playing with her new toy. Many thanks to Stephanie, she loves it!

And then just before Christmas a gift arrived into my letterbox. It was from ‘Santa!’ and while I do all my gifts from ‘Santa’ if I put it in your hand you know it’s from me. Now, this gift was are specially from the man in red, and I am stumped! Welcome to my Happy Socks!

I have been asking everybody! It’s going to drive me crazy! Just crazy!

One more week and my favourite cafe is back! So, today’s lunch was closer to home, much closer.
Today’s offering is a beetroot salad with goats’ cheese and my medicine, of course.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cheers,
H