More like tea and DVD, it’s almost 6pm and I’m still wearing my pyjamas, as you can guess I’m on another downer, the washing up is not done, the ironing is not done, there’s a layer of dust everywhere, I’m expected to be the perfect housewife when all I can achieve is a cup of tea and to watch “The Thick of It” on DVD. I’m feeling dizzy with hunger and I’ve been told that “if you can’t be a***d to cook, then nor can I”, well I’ve finished this I’m back off to bed.
I’m feeling a combination of ticcy “rumination” that’s what my HRT therapist calls it, the way us ticcers mull over things, or rather worry and then in your head the scenario escalates and old fashioned Catholic guilt. The last time I went to confession I must have been about 14, which was quite a long time ago, I don’t know what’s happened to my rosary. I feel as though I should apologise, I’m not sure to whom, whoever it was offended by my use of the “C” word, that’s the Burberry one not Jeremy Hunt. I don’t know why I feel as though I have to apologise, it’s that Catholic guilt thing, the meek shall inherit the earth, that’s what I was always told about bullies, sticks and stones, turn the other cheek, but then there was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Given the reaction to my musings over Monday I feel like my TS experiences aren’t valued, that the experience of anybody that experiences anti-disability bullying aren’t valid, weren’t the experiences of Frankie and her Mum in Barwell valid? Had anybody taken them seriously they may still be with us. Barwell isn’t that far away, just the other side of Nuneaton. These experiences shouldn’t be swept under the carpet, we should examine the reasons why this happens, and I’m not the only ticcer to have experienced abuse from strangers. I would love the person whom I offended to spend the day with me and witness the reactions of the people around me, I only see half the picture, those that are within my line of vision and earshot, I don’t hear the jokes or comments that people make when I’m gone. At the moment I’m suffering a serious lack of confidence, the confidence to step out my house and be proud of who I am, I feel ashamed, I feel like a Victorian side-show exhibit, I’m just here for the entertainment of others. I was told that I used the “C” word in a derogrotory manner, as anybody who know me knows that I worked with young people and that particular blog post was written with a tongue-in-cheek, humorous slant, it’s the way I cope with things. In a perverse way man of the young people that I worked with were proud of their "label", they relished the fear that made people avoid them, many of these young lads came from very troubled backgrounds and were very much shaped by their upbringing and on a one-to-one basis after building up relationships with them were a pleasure to teach. We (their teachers and TAs) in many cases were the only adults in their lives who were positive role models.
Back to reasons why or at least my theory any way why there is a rise in abuse towards disabled people, one of the reasons has just gone down the pan (hooray!) that’s until Murdoch brings out a new Sunday rag. Haven’t you noticed what’s being said about us “benefit scrounging scum” “unfit for work declared fit for work”, ”DLA Claimants driving beamers” etc..etc.? I feel guilty about this and I haven’t done anything, I feel guilty about being different, about being a useless drain on society.
At the moment my coping mechanism has gone out of the window, I feel frail, and very afraid of who and what lurks outside, I’m scared, and of course being a ticcer these thoughts are hard to discharge from my head. I’m not sure when I’ll make it outside, I’m worried about people hearing my tic when I hang out the washing, so it’s going to stay in the washing machine.
Here’s a link to a random Daily Snail headline writer, have fun, see who long it takes you to get a headline about benefit scroungers? qwghlm.co.uk/toys/dailymail/