An Audi TT

Can you imagine the constraints I was under when the solution to an argument was : I'm going to phone your mum and dad. We will all sit down and have a meeting. You won't leave. You will end up locked back up in the hospital.
Of course I would say I am not a child. And Freds other favourite argument closure was : come on hit me then, hit me he'd say spitting through his teeth.
I tried to slap him for calling me a s^ut once when he was drunk but he caught my hand and tripped me onto the floor. I didn't cheat I must add, I never cheated on Fred. He was just drunk. I would have felt no satisfaction if it did connect and I'm glad he stopped it.
And the hospital is not prison. The entrance door isn't always locked where I was. There are cameras so it's open mostly during the day. There is only one room with a working lock. And the door is locked to prevent people from committing suicide when they are a danger to themselves. Its only locked when the staff feel a particar patient is suicidal. And violent people go to a high security hospital. Where the line between illness and criminal intent blur.
Prison is punishment and to stop criminals hurting others in the future. It should be about rehabilitation in an ideal world too. But psych wards are not prison. Of course there are rules and routine for food and lights go out. But it's supposed to be somewhere a person can relax and get better and get help and medical treatment. A place for some that is safe and space to escape the stresses while un-well. Without the medication not many would get out. Thorazine was introduced back in the 1950s. It was a break through But from what I can gather through reading, the newer drugs only got approved in the 1990's. But please correct me forum users. My first breakdown was 2005. So would it be safe to say that psychiatric drugs are in their infancy still?

Fred had it easy staying at home. He could do what he wanted, go out all the time, have two or three holidays
and have his sports car. He had no savings whatsoever and lived moment to moment.
So when we moved, it was going to take time to get the rainy day funds built up. And we had been working on the house till the small hours and all weekend.
Fred started acting strange every night when we got home from work. He was tired and hostile.
When shopping after work he lost his temper when someone was taking time to decide and we were waiting to get in the same spot. I said calm down. And he squeezed my arm really hard and told the woman she was holding him up, some people have places to be, what game is she playing at.
You get the picture.
One week he kept saying to me remember who wears the trousers and pulls the strings. And I would say right I'll.make tea. And he would say I'll decide. Okay whatever you like. I'll decide he would repeat. He kept saying I'll decide. I'll decide. And I gave up speaking to him till he was reasonable. I make the rules he would.say. Remember I take care of you.
Then few months in he waited till we got in the house and said : you give me the life of dog. But I thought you take care of me ? I'd say. And I told him I don't stop him doing anything it was the other way around!
He was just angry because this was the real world now. Bills to pay and a house to keep. The flat we were going to rent was exactly the same monthly as this house. Nothing comes easy without commitment and sacrifice sometimes.
He stopped me from going to a friend birthday party because I needed a costume and he said we need the money for the house and I just relented and everything revolved around him. He had first and final say on everything .

Cool runnings. Ran when I should have walked. I am no harlequin. But I don't like being wrong. I was still only 18. You were only interested in yourself. I wasn't feeling up to it, seeing I was awake coughing days on end. But it was ME who would be selfish for not going when it was planned and the weather was right for it. Why couldn't I have someone in my life that asked what I would like for a change??

At least Fred came from a large family so going home for lunch wasn't a big deal. But my brother got enough money for everyday. Enough to smoke. Enough to buy chip shop every other day. I am amazed that my parents payed the fees for my sport.
A friend of mine thought that because we had sky tv that we were spoiled. Fred could say he had a large family. But mine had no excuses. My mum tried to coax me into first and seconds, a second hand shop on a trip to nearest city. Yes, I know there are kids in poverty. And kids in care. But if you feel neglected compared to all the kids around you, then of course depression creeps in. If you feel like a black sheep and you know that you only feel ostracized because of money. But there is more to this equation, there has to be. I thought I know my mum hates my father, and my brother was her favourite. My brother got money when he asked from my mum. And a phone contract. My mum shopped for him all the time and told me boys need more. So that was it: boys need more. I couldnt change that view. I didn't believe it but she said it over and over.
I didn't have the confidence to fight for a Saturday job or weekdays in chip shop etc. And going to my father's was a good excuse to NOT apply myself to find a job. I did apply for jobs. But nobody takes on someone who is shy unless for example they are family or a friends kid really. And pretending only works for so long. I did get offered a job but I knew one of the girls would probably not make life easy for me. Two girls who are friends I stood no chance. Maybe they would have been ok and it was just my self-doubt. I should have tried in hindsight. They were the normal ones. It was my thinking and not them. I was a bag of nerves. A crowded coffee shop, I'm not sure I could have done it. One day a week, maybe.

Even when I started working at 17 thankfully I got a shelf stacking job and didn't work on tills.
Technically I started working at 15 in the gym. Got paid for it at 16. So it was worth hanging on. And that really helped me to keep off the streets. And then I destroyed it all anyway.
The depression and self esteem I struggled with, just resulted in me being called lazy. My father, thug coach, some teachers. And obviously my mother. My friends just thought I was odd. Funny and clever, yes. But odd. I found it hard to relax. My friends didn't want to so anything I told my team mate and my work mate. The truth was we didn't have a lot of expendable income. Most of us didn't.
My second boss at supermarket would sometimes find it amusing that I never stayed still . Other times a bit frustrated. What's up. Just chilling.
When I had a blip at my longest running job. I told the boss when I had a mini melt down that I don't get the chance to chill. And I had to take about 8 weeks off.

I stopped listening to my parents advice. A pinch of salt with everything.
I said leave him alone, your older than me, picking on someone half your age!
So the coward came back with a small troupe. They just pushed me on the grass verge. And pushed me around.
So I knew martial arts did not "bully proof" young kids.
But its much more than just self defence. Confidence is there lets get that one out of the way. Sense of achievement as you progress to next level. Mental fitness as well as physical shape. Respect for others and discipline.

My friends never wanted to do anything, I would complain. But what was there to do in a town ? A lot of teens grow out of playing football and boxing/karate etc. And we didn't have money to burn. I wasn't one to chase down kicks. My parents were pathologically strict. I didn't drink on the streets and I didn't want to.

When Fred and I took the plunge, it felt like the right thing to do. We were definitely set to rent some where and had some options.
He was stressed by the move. Every spare minute was spent on the place. And he got a bee in his bonnet when his parents kept asking him when would he be moving in. They weren't pushing him out the door but it was coming up for two months. And when Fred came in from work nobody was safe if he happened to be in foul mood.
When we both moved to our pad, the start of our lives together, there was no honey moon phase. But it was better after an up and down few years. It looked on the outside that we had settled our differences, broke away from wild youth and had a future together.

It was a real relationship. And Fred Keeping my feet on the ground is a blessing in disguise. I was lucky after the overdose I took that the doctor switched me right away onto the perfect medication for me. And when I had to go for follow ups some staff I recognised went past and asked if I was ok.
The doctors aren't gods. They are incredibly intelligent. I had no idea what psychiatric treatment involved. It was unnecessary to try and prove a point. But then again, I needed time away and I could not have went home.
And when In hospital at 18 I did go out with mum for lunch all the time. And it was more David that was pushing for a diagnosis. If you are getting treated with medication then a person is going to question what is treating. But most parents would have prayed that it was a stress induced episode. Not mine though. They were conflicted. They'd rather I would get better but if worst came to worst they couldn't afford to take the blame. And it was the easy way out if all the eggs went to my basket.
I apologise for nit picking with doctor. I guess it felt worse to me because this was my life! And looking at the big picture, I was one of the lucky ones.
Your the type that sees your body as a temple said the doctor. I had no interest in drugs and alcohol was a social thing for me. Through the thick and thin. True. We can call it a blip. Nipped in the bud.
I'm on good terms with family now. We have our own normal.

Good luck. You said I was autistic to my face. I had every Right to say good luck staying away from drugs. The only reason you were moving was to do drugs. Lo and behold I was bang on the money. I know social media was not the place. And I deleted my comment. I hated drugs. I hated Jeremy Kyle. Why on earth cause a spat online? But you were the only one of my old friends that I left an unsavoury comment about.
And I will be brutally honest; I did have too much time one my hands. And my inhibitions were not quite recalibrated. But why don't YOU be honest and admit that I may have made you question your motives for flitting to the city. Maybe I cared more than others around you did.
You may have came the bag and crossed the line calling me autistic (not even aspergers syndrome) but we were friends at high school. Maybe I did care ?

We were just too different to have been friends. I did get a bit down that my friends didn't want to do anything. But I wouldn't have fitted into your crowd. And I never had your freedom. If my wall hadn't happened I would have been happy with the friends I had. But maybe not? I was supposed to have gone to university. I would have travelled for my career. And I wouldn't have given you or washing powder a second thought. So I apologise for any grief I caused on your page. And I'm sad to hear you think your life went wrong somewhere and that you need to look at things from a different perspective and hopefully make it right.
I'll be honest meeting you was the best part of my work at the supermarket ! I thought you were ace and fun. I got you. I remember dropping the box of flowers trying to fit the last one on and you were like that's being too adventurous. I was made fun of at my club for working there. I would have "jacked" the job if you were not there. And thank Christ my escapades was there at supermarket.

I did not want to sign my life away. And the man who conducted my interview knew from the get go that my heart was not in it. But give him his due at the end he said have you got a back up plan or plan b? But he did set the tone by pondering if I was the right material for the first role I considered without even knowing my test score. But my highers grades were barely average. So he was right to give me the third degree.
The old me would have cried and left straight away. But an old boss of mine pointed out that I acted like a tough nut while there. My longest serving job.
I understand that you were just doing your job. And you did ask if I knew what I would do instead. I was barely 18 with my whole life in front of me.

I needed a new creative out let. I was going to get a key board and learn guitar from you tube tutorials. I could have folded a key board under my bed. And get an electric acoustic guitar and an amp. So I could practice with headphones on in the flat.
But reality stepped in. I needed money to get started. I would need a job. And my foray with college proved that I wasn't ready for studying. If I had taken a year off things would have been different.
I had to get a job and any job at some point. I should have done the art therapy my doctor proposed. But I didn't enjoy drawing any more. The solitude was killing me. I needed noise and words and distraction.
I wasn't ready to work either though. I was in a fine mess.
When the depression hit, I didn't even flick through the music channels. When I reeled in my hyper energy, there was only depression and regret. I had been extremely ill. Part of the illness is failure to have insight that you are ill. Not denial, lack of insight is different.
Rock music was the only music that made my brain take notice and Fred persuaded me that it was counter productive to my recovery. There wasn't any good films on during the day.
So I sold the guitar. Deciding it was just a restless phase. That it was time I got to the nitty gritty. And get my head out of the clouds.
So I started to read. I could listen to music & read at the same time. And this helped me relax. With the guitar my attention wandered because there's so much repetition in order to learn. It was the same with sketching. I had to start from the bottom with that too as I had lost the ability to sketch.
When I jogged I toggled through song after song. And I thought of ideas to write about. I needed some hope. After my fall from grace, I needed a dream. I needed to escape the truth for my piece of mind.
I mean pop music died in the 80's? I didnt like guns n roses, iron maiden, ac/dc, led zeppilin or slayer. Classic rock did nothing for me. And I gave up on my first love of soulful/rnb/hip hop. I couldnt find an album that I could listen to every song on. I still listened to rock alongside more main stream music.

I bumped into Freds Mum when I did my jogging on my routes and she was nice saying she got cabin fever too some days. And I didn't feel like I was imposing or unwelcome when I was over. I did think that they maybe thought I wouldn't be good enough. But I had achieved things. His sister's boyfriend spoke about tkd on a programme he saw. I was known for it.
All I had at home was a box room. Martin had a spacious room. He had a sub woofer for films. Evenings at his were miles better than me brooding alone. And I was ****ing difficult when trying to adjust to everything. Trying to get better, not realising the time it would take. I turned Fred away some nights, because I knew that his friends would take the Mick. My mum said I didn't deserve a devoted man like him and why he still bothered with me was a mystery.
We would get Oreo ice creams and chicken wraps from McDonald's and go walks and drives. We'd go out all the time to pubs and people would say they were so glad we stayed together.

I was young and giving up and accepting the fate that some people had placed on me just made me more determined. I had fought tooth and nail to try and give myself a future. My grandfather encouraged my gran to do her cryptic crosswords to keep her brain working and "oiled".
I thought the longer I was out of work, that it would be less likely that I would get back in the game. But with a mental breakdown, thats not quite the case.
But I didn't have a nurse like Justin effing beiber, sit on the bottom of my bed and say that getting well was a long long road and that I should break down everything to tiny bites. One thing at a time. I had my my mum saying that I was a sick just face it. One health care worker saying don't you realise how sick you were.
I did get some good advice from nurses and the doctor. But I was under going a full psychosis and I was not lucid that often and I wasn't ready for talking it out. My medication was working it's magic. When I crashed I was more reasonable. And I regained my judgement. I think I was one of those people that opening up would have been more dangerous.
I went out with friends and some of their college classmates were with them. And one girl greeted me one week with " oh it's you...I knew YOU would be here"
I took this as a sneer of superiority. Insinuating I was a "drooth" and nothing else. So I bucked up. And the pub closed and I lost contact with the duo.
So my priority changed to first I was to get out the house and be productive. THEN I would tackle my social life. I'd rather be on my own than hang about with people that didn't care about taking responsibility. I needed purpose. I got fixated on this. I wasn't a deviant. I had legitimately been un-well. Self medicating too. I wasn't a lost girl.

I don't blame any of you for thinking my cv was a joke. But I know that it swayed the decision in my favour. So I could forget the audacity of the phrasing. And giving me that second chance meant the world to me. And my new manageress said that I never complained about any job I was asked to do it. Sitting here now I see that being out in the back room, flying under the radar was as close to perfect I could get in my home town.

I lost two jobs. And I quit another. Please do not feel bad about cutting me loose before my three month trial. I definitely wasn't ready for luminous green uniform.
And the cafe I wasn't either. I was a bit arrogant thinking that it would be a piece of cake.The older lady who was at college wasn't scrutinised like me. She did her own thing and sung away to herself all day. She had family and college homework to do. She was quite aloof but had a lovely manner and positive way. I got miffed when I was on portering duty every time. This wasn't the job I applied for to start.
And to be honest I absolutely dreaded learning the tills. I was ok with making the variety of coffees. But engaging my brain to operating the till and orders and change while being happy go lucky to the customers made me nervous.
So when I was given the option of a disciplinary or cutting my losses and taking that months pay and an extra month on top, the latter seemed my best bet. And when I went back an hour later with my decision, they were honest with me and as an after thought they said that I didn't fit in with the girls in the team. I appreciate that they told me the hard truth and I sensed an edge of sympathy and that I was owed the truth. I knew I didn't fit in with the team but reinforcing this was the case did help me.
I actually applied for a different job and I was offered the cafe because an opening came up so I agreed. Half hoping it may lead to better prospects. I still wasn't ready for returning to the work place with this job either.
I lied to my parents and I said that I was laid off because the cafe was changing from waitress service to self service. There was word of this so I used it on all my future job applications. A gap in employment was worse right??

I lied about the cafe. The reason was lo and behold: my mum's reaction. She has no filter sometimes. David never got on at me. But my mum said are you joking, nobody gets sacked from somewhere like there. But house on fires gf had got sacked from a shop while at uni for one tiny mistake. I know a few people who made only one mistake and lost their job.
I got one strike for leaving the station because I couldn't get hold of the person on the phone and I didn't know who I was asking for. Another strike for reading a magazine at the station. A strike for putting on a cd with parental guidance even though I swear I put it away before I finished. And another for over riding a games console without contacting the supervisor. It was an expensive product and I should have called someone. And I never left a note at night to let the morning person know of any changes or problems that stood out. It was the same s^it just a different day to me. There was never anything out of the ordinary. And the delivery was self explanatory. I put what I had done on the trolley that was labelled such. And labelled the other still to do. It was just a formality and if I was better I would have known. So I used my three strikes you can probably gather. I was a perfectionist once upon a time.

I will never make a decent living staying here I sighed. I ruined everything. I'm fed up with this place. Revolving door jobs are the only ones that take me.
Your a dogs body like the rest of us. Was Freds reply.
Why are you on the computer again? Not ****ing Facebook. Fine, I'll log off and join you. And no I am reading. Supposedly my medication has similar properties to ecstasy. And In American prison it's street name is: snooze berries. I may as well have been talking to a brick wall.

You know I want to write a book one day.
And what makes you so special?
Why are you with me If I'm nothing special?
I'm not just with you because I feel sorry for you....
That was as far as that conversation ever got.

I had to get second job. My contract was cut in half. I didn't run this time and went back. You can have a lie in someone said. I told the person I worked next to that a lie in wouldn't pay my bills and mortgage. I wished I had never admitted I had no money to myself to the supervisor. I signed the new contract so I didn't have a leg to stand on.
At my other job I got mixed reactions. With my past . But one lady told me that a good friend of hers committed suicide. She said it was because she was intelligent and she felt she had to have a good job. She was a morgue nurse. And the supervisor said that I was a good kid doing sport instead of loitering.

I found out that Fred had been enforcing the fact that I was only working part time to everyone at work.
It's ok moon shaped face . It only struck a nerve because my ex coach used to wind me up that my contract was 28 hours. 36 was full time. But there was ALWAYS over time. This was how retail worked. I got every second Sunday so that made it full time . And when people were on holiday which was most weeks in a large company.
I never told my sports club my contract hours. He literally
Called me part-timer. So when you asked are you still working part-time at the Eec I took it the wrong way. Sorry.
But It gave that push and I got a second job and I also did evening classes at college. It was ME that latched onto "part-time".
My father also said I lazy. It wasn't just the hours with my father, it was the type of employment also. The easy way out. It was supposed to be my gap year so I could figure out what I wanted to pursue. I tried to ignore the negative people.