I spend the majority of my time alone. It's better that way.
I have enough money to do a lot of things. I could 'go out'. I've heard normal people 'go out'. From what I've seen this involves going to loud places, drinking, dancing and being obnoxious to the opposite sex. I don't enjoy these things. Because most people do, this makes me a bad person. I've been told I should keep doing these things until I enjoy them. A curious suggestion.
I'm alone in my bedroom. It's getting dark. People will be out having fun. I don't understand them. My mother tells me the world 'doesn't bite'. Unfortunately, it does. It bites like a shark with lockjaw. I've been out many times. Often I end up sitting alone while the people 'do their thing'. Sometimes others ask what's wrong. It's too difficult to explain, especially in loud and impatient atmospheres, so I say I'm ok. I don't need 'help' or 'pity', I just want to leave. But that would draw attention to myself, and if I'm in a strange town, where would I go?
People eventually get annoyed because they don't understand me. Why do I bother 'going out' if I'm not going to 'try to enjoy it'? But if I wasn't going to try, I'd've just stayed at home. The problem is, I'm just not trying in exactly the way they want me to.
I can't match up to these standards of peoples' expectations. So I stay in. It's easier that way.
Monday, 27 August 2007
Thursday, 23 August 2007
Shopping
I love buying things. Doesn't everyone?
Actually. I like having things and taking them home for my personal usage. I dislike having to go and buy them. The irony is that the things I enjoy the most are the most traumatic to buy.
The local Oddbins has much I want. I'm probably incapable of not finding something to buy there. It's a small shop, and not many people are usually in. I'm a discerning buyer. I like to look thoroughly. For some reason, the person behind the counter seems to think I'm confused. I'm not. I'm looking. I don't need any help. But I'm always being watched, or thinking I'm being watched.
The second-hand bookshop I frequent is worse. I don't mean it's a bad place. It's a place with books piled up everywhere in an order that may make sense to someone. The sign says it opened in 1867 and it seems to have retained most of its start-up stock. There's something for everyone in there. You just have to find it. The owner is a garrulous sort. He tries to start conversations with customers. I don't know what to say. Usually something stupid. I'm not good at general conversation. Specific things, yes. If he wanted to know about the subject of the book I was buying (for example Princess Andrew of Greece) I could talk about that. But no, he asks about me.
I used to work in retail. I know strategies like these are used to put customers at their ease, and project a helpful image of the business. All it does with me is make me anxious. I wander around the town centre in less demanding shops for ages before going in. When I finnally do go in, I spend ages in there, worrying.
I know it's silly. But I can't stop it.
Actually. I like having things and taking them home for my personal usage. I dislike having to go and buy them. The irony is that the things I enjoy the most are the most traumatic to buy.
The local Oddbins has much I want. I'm probably incapable of not finding something to buy there. It's a small shop, and not many people are usually in. I'm a discerning buyer. I like to look thoroughly. For some reason, the person behind the counter seems to think I'm confused. I'm not. I'm looking. I don't need any help. But I'm always being watched, or thinking I'm being watched.
The second-hand bookshop I frequent is worse. I don't mean it's a bad place. It's a place with books piled up everywhere in an order that may make sense to someone. The sign says it opened in 1867 and it seems to have retained most of its start-up stock. There's something for everyone in there. You just have to find it. The owner is a garrulous sort. He tries to start conversations with customers. I don't know what to say. Usually something stupid. I'm not good at general conversation. Specific things, yes. If he wanted to know about the subject of the book I was buying (for example Princess Andrew of Greece) I could talk about that. But no, he asks about me.
I used to work in retail. I know strategies like these are used to put customers at their ease, and project a helpful image of the business. All it does with me is make me anxious. I wander around the town centre in less demanding shops for ages before going in. When I finnally do go in, I spend ages in there, worrying.
I know it's silly. But I can't stop it.
Friday, 17 August 2007
Friends (2)
But why don't you find friends online, I hear you say? Surely it must be easier. Well, yes it is. But it comes with it's own problems.
This was long before MySpace or Facebook. Almost a decade ago, I discovered 'instant messaging'. I made a few friends. And I fell out with almost every single one. While the internet takes out the anxiety of face-to-face talking (and body language and other assorted 'skills') it makes neither you, nor other people, easier to get along with.
The few people with whom I managed even a medium-term friendship were no easier. The more we talked, the more pressure I felt under. If MSN started up, I was seen online. Many times I didn't want to talk, but not to have done so would have seemed rude. If they didn't talk to me, I wondered what I'd done wrong.
For me, nothing is ever simple.
They say that if you have problems, you should talk to someone. But what if you know that, whatever you say, it'll only make things worse. You will be expected to do something. If you don't do it, they want to know why. And always you ask yourself - why are they doing this?
I've often been told I'm hard work. If only people knew how much hard work they were,
This was long before MySpace or Facebook. Almost a decade ago, I discovered 'instant messaging'. I made a few friends. And I fell out with almost every single one. While the internet takes out the anxiety of face-to-face talking (and body language and other assorted 'skills') it makes neither you, nor other people, easier to get along with.
The few people with whom I managed even a medium-term friendship were no easier. The more we talked, the more pressure I felt under. If MSN started up, I was seen online. Many times I didn't want to talk, but not to have done so would have seemed rude. If they didn't talk to me, I wondered what I'd done wrong.
For me, nothing is ever simple.
They say that if you have problems, you should talk to someone. But what if you know that, whatever you say, it'll only make things worse. You will be expected to do something. If you don't do it, they want to know why. And always you ask yourself - why are they doing this?
I've often been told I'm hard work. If only people knew how much hard work they were,
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
Friends (1)
I've tried to have friends. It's never worked out.
At school, no one liked me. I don't know why exactly. I was probably too different. Children are merciless. Anyone who is different to a perceptible degree will be destroyed. Eventually I figured this out by the age of 10 or so. I managed to get people to tolerate me. Eventually.
Most of my 'friendships' have been with those who wanted to exploit me. Whether its for copying the answers to schoolwork or borrowing money, no one has ever wanted me for me. I've tried other people. The barriers of my difference are too great. I'm too much like hard work.
I've often wondered why people seek to have many friends. People are programmed to be social. Most of them. But why choose specific people to talk to about things? Common views, goals and interests? Who knows. I certainly don't. What I do know is that friendship is far less altruistic than most people want to believe.
At school, no one liked me. I don't know why exactly. I was probably too different. Children are merciless. Anyone who is different to a perceptible degree will be destroyed. Eventually I figured this out by the age of 10 or so. I managed to get people to tolerate me. Eventually.
Most of my 'friendships' have been with those who wanted to exploit me. Whether its for copying the answers to schoolwork or borrowing money, no one has ever wanted me for me. I've tried other people. The barriers of my difference are too great. I'm too much like hard work.
I've often wondered why people seek to have many friends. People are programmed to be social. Most of them. But why choose specific people to talk to about things? Common views, goals and interests? Who knows. I certainly don't. What I do know is that friendship is far less altruistic than most people want to believe.
Friday, 10 August 2007
Persecution
A lot has gone on in my life. Much of it convinces me I'm persecuted.
My house cheque has gone into the bank, and shows on the balance. But my available balance is still only £6. My benefit is now 3 days late and will probably not now show until next week.
I presume my bank has had enough of my being constantly overdrawn. Not content with charging me £5 for the overdraft itself, £34 for failed direct debits and £25 every 5 days for unauthorised overdrawing, it now seeks to keep hold of my money now I'm actually in credit. The benefits agency no doubt has realised I've been on incapacity for a year now. I've probably set off a 'presumed malingerer' function in the computer.
I'm poor and ill. I must be punished. I must not have any enjoyment lest it encourage me.
My house cheque has gone into the bank, and shows on the balance. But my available balance is still only £6. My benefit is now 3 days late and will probably not now show until next week.
I presume my bank has had enough of my being constantly overdrawn. Not content with charging me £5 for the overdraft itself, £34 for failed direct debits and £25 every 5 days for unauthorised overdrawing, it now seeks to keep hold of my money now I'm actually in credit. The benefits agency no doubt has realised I've been on incapacity for a year now. I've probably set off a 'presumed malingerer' function in the computer.
I'm poor and ill. I must be punished. I must not have any enjoyment lest it encourage me.
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Poor
My financial problems after nearly over. Yesterday I banked the cheque from my house sale.
The worst thing about being poor is not the fact you can't go on holiday. Nor is it not eating and drinking what you'd like. Not even the hassling from the various organisations to whom you owe money.
It's not being able to do the small things. My benefit is late. I didn't even have the bus fare so I could go to the bank. I had to borrow the money for even that. You know the worst thing? It's paying for something by debit card and having it declined. A humiliation in a public place. There's nothing you can do except slink away.
You end up feeling that people are looking at you. Thinking "Who's that poor scum? What right does he have to exist?". I have problems with people looking at me anyway. I don't need any more reasons for them to look down on me.
The world is a very harsh place if you have no money. And other people harsher still.
The worst thing about being poor is not the fact you can't go on holiday. Nor is it not eating and drinking what you'd like. Not even the hassling from the various organisations to whom you owe money.
It's not being able to do the small things. My benefit is late. I didn't even have the bus fare so I could go to the bank. I had to borrow the money for even that. You know the worst thing? It's paying for something by debit card and having it declined. A humiliation in a public place. There's nothing you can do except slink away.
You end up feeling that people are looking at you. Thinking "Who's that poor scum? What right does he have to exist?". I have problems with people looking at me anyway. I don't need any more reasons for them to look down on me.
The world is a very harsh place if you have no money. And other people harsher still.
Monday, 6 August 2007
Work
I've not worked for a while now.
I did have a job at one time. Most people would have considered it a poor job. I stacked shelves, or rather filled freezers, on a supermarket night shift. It was minimum wage, of course, but it paid the bills.
I lost that job about a year ago. What I did to lose it seemed amusing at the time. I pretended to take a photograph of a colleague. That was my fault. I admit that. That's one thing. Whether I got what I deserved is another.
I was the victim of many phenomena. One was the exponential assumption. This is the kind of logic that says 9 is nearly 10, so we'll say it's 10. And 10 is nearly 12, so we'll call it 12. And 12 is as close to 15 as 9, right, so it's going to be 15 from now on to be on the safe side.
The 'victim' of my faux-photography took it badly. She complained. This is automatically assessed by the system as 'harrassment'. Because I am male and she is female, the system classes this as 'serious harrassment'. According to the company code, 'serious harrassment' is 'gross misconduct'. And 'gross misconduct' is a sacking offence.
All over a non-existant photo.
I didn't have a hope in the hearing. The initial hearing was taken by managers who had previously been friendly with me, but who now treated me like scum. The latter is probably what they always thought of me as, but had to act as the former because of their managerial training. The second hearing was taken by a new manager who I I'd never met and another from a different store. The new manager wanted to make his mark. I was the mark he made.
I appealed, but I had no hope there either. To change the previous verdict, new evidence was needed before they could even consider it. Difficult to get new evidence when you can't even go into the store or even contact anyone save the designated 'colleague representatives'.
That was a year ago. I've not worked since. I went to the Job Centre, but they said I'd be better off on incapacity benefit. Difficult to disagree. I felt in no condition to submit myself again to the same type of people responsible for my position.
I am ill, true enough. But whether it's something I can recover from enough to be considered for work again is yet another thing.
I did have a job at one time. Most people would have considered it a poor job. I stacked shelves, or rather filled freezers, on a supermarket night shift. It was minimum wage, of course, but it paid the bills.
I lost that job about a year ago. What I did to lose it seemed amusing at the time. I pretended to take a photograph of a colleague. That was my fault. I admit that. That's one thing. Whether I got what I deserved is another.
I was the victim of many phenomena. One was the exponential assumption. This is the kind of logic that says 9 is nearly 10, so we'll say it's 10. And 10 is nearly 12, so we'll call it 12. And 12 is as close to 15 as 9, right, so it's going to be 15 from now on to be on the safe side.
The 'victim' of my faux-photography took it badly. She complained. This is automatically assessed by the system as 'harrassment'. Because I am male and she is female, the system classes this as 'serious harrassment'. According to the company code, 'serious harrassment' is 'gross misconduct'. And 'gross misconduct' is a sacking offence.
All over a non-existant photo.
I didn't have a hope in the hearing. The initial hearing was taken by managers who had previously been friendly with me, but who now treated me like scum. The latter is probably what they always thought of me as, but had to act as the former because of their managerial training. The second hearing was taken by a new manager who I I'd never met and another from a different store. The new manager wanted to make his mark. I was the mark he made.
I appealed, but I had no hope there either. To change the previous verdict, new evidence was needed before they could even consider it. Difficult to get new evidence when you can't even go into the store or even contact anyone save the designated 'colleague representatives'.
That was a year ago. I've not worked since. I went to the Job Centre, but they said I'd be better off on incapacity benefit. Difficult to disagree. I felt in no condition to submit myself again to the same type of people responsible for my position.
I am ill, true enough. But whether it's something I can recover from enough to be considered for work again is yet another thing.
Sunday, 5 August 2007
Hello
I'm the disordered one. I never asked to be like this.
Throughout my life, I've been misunderstood, ridiculed and persecuted. From what I can tell, it's not all been my fault.
I'm not like other people. Other people figure this out in seconds. Because I'm not like other people, I must be identified, marginalised and destroyed. They've yet to succeed in the last action. But many times, it's been close.
They don't know what I have. A personality disorder, maybe, or Asperger syndrome. The tests are inconclusive.
A lot of people think they are lonely and disliked. I know, I've heard about them telling all their friends. A lot of people also say they are depressed , until someone pays them some attention, after which the depression vanishes. My life is not like this. I tried to have friends. I got it wrong. I check out all the signs for moderate-to-severe depression. Nothing has been any comfort to me so far.
So if you want to know what it's really like to be alone and unhappy, you should read this blog. I can't promise you'll be in any way uplifted. Or that you'll even have any liking or sympathy for me. But what you will get is the truth.
Because this is what life is really like.
Throughout my life, I've been misunderstood, ridiculed and persecuted. From what I can tell, it's not all been my fault.
I'm not like other people. Other people figure this out in seconds. Because I'm not like other people, I must be identified, marginalised and destroyed. They've yet to succeed in the last action. But many times, it's been close.
They don't know what I have. A personality disorder, maybe, or Asperger syndrome. The tests are inconclusive.
A lot of people think they are lonely and disliked. I know, I've heard about them telling all their friends. A lot of people also say they are depressed , until someone pays them some attention, after which the depression vanishes. My life is not like this. I tried to have friends. I got it wrong. I check out all the signs for moderate-to-severe depression. Nothing has been any comfort to me so far.
So if you want to know what it's really like to be alone and unhappy, you should read this blog. I can't promise you'll be in any way uplifted. Or that you'll even have any liking or sympathy for me. But what you will get is the truth.
Because this is what life is really like.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
