Sock Monkey with a twist: Mlle. La Raie

The latest sock monkey in the 'range' is, in fact, not a monkey at all. She was made at the behest of a friend of my daughter who said 'Can you make me a Sock Monkey like hers, but not a monkey....more of a doll sort of thing....'

This is the result: Mlle. La Raie who is a kind of hybrid since she has no muzzle, different ears, no tail and also has hair. She is very stylish. Stripes are very 'in' this season in Paris (she says) and so she is 'a la mode' as always. As you can see she has had a lock of her hair dyed 'pistache' and tied it with a little violet ribbon. She's quite the coquette, je pense.

Any'rue'up, this is the result of playing around with stuff and I'm actually quite pleased with her, though it has to be said that someone said recently that my sock monkeys are beginning to look more and more like JuJu dolls and, taking an objective look at Mlle. La Raie, I am tempted to agree.

Ça ne fait rien.

Tommy Roe - Dizzy

I've been feeling a bit dizzy the last few days: dizzy and a bit weak. S'what happens with ME.

Incidentally, for those of you who are fellow PWME do have a look at Dr Speedy's excellent blog re. the dread disease. He's a GP with ME and comes at all the bunkum about how to treat it with a fresh eye

http://niceguidelines.blogspot.com/

Luuuuuuurve GOD Sock Monkey

Time for a bit of jolliness I think so I've decided to show you my latest sock monkey.

He is very saucy and is a Luuuuurve God.

His name is The Very Rev. Aluicious Lordy Lordy Amoreuse

He's keen on religion as you can see from the crucifix given to him by The Pope

and he is generally partial to a bit of 'bling' hence the gaudiness of said crucifix, piano brooch and golden earring

However, he's also not averse to the occasional slurp of Communion vino

the old vino doesn't always have that beneficial effect however and he is inclined to get a bit amorous with the ladies.

He's very proud of all his 'jewels'

but, what with the flash image, the drinking and his favourite party trick.......

(lighting his own farts.......shhhhhhhhh!)

Things don't always work out so well in the Lurve Stakes

Nest of vipers

Feeling frightened and angry today.

The more I look into this whole insurance business the more I realise what a nest of vipers I am being pushed towards. The more I read about this cohort of psychiatrists who use words like 'deceit', 'malingerer', 'fantasy', 'deluded', 'controlling', 'devious' the more I realise that I shall be perceived as a manipulative scoundrel with dubious mental health who has brought this whole condition on myself and who is determined to influence and sway everyone around me to believe what I believe so that I can sponge off the State, grab handouts and payouts from the Insurance companies and waste the valuable time of my GP.

There really does seem to be a sort of conspiracy about the whole business --- collusion between the State, governmental department, health care, insurance and big business and a game of sparring, reputation and ego boosting amongst the medical profession.

I'm trying hard not to let this get me down and not to back out of my claim. I will not be beaten and I will not be insulted by such patronising and insulting attitudes to someone with a genuine neurological condition

The party's over.......

Well, the good news is that I'm back on a more even keel. The dip has passed. With a lot of rest and a visit to my loyal Reiki healer, I got to the party yesterday and it was a real treat. The party was a joint 'do' between 4 friends to celebrate their 50th and 60th birthdays. They were able to share the event easily because they all live at Old Hall in East Bergholt which is one of the longest running, if not the longest running Communes in England. The Hall used to be a monastery --- indeed I remember when it was a monastery in the 60s. I have been 'around' the place most of my life and have several friends who live there. It's an interesting way to live which requires commitment, patience and an ability to give and receive easily.

The party (which flowed on all day) was a joy and, as well as meeting up with my friend who lives there, I met lots of old colleagues from work. That was a mixed blessing: it was really lovely to see them and great to feel part of something again...to kind of regain my place in our little gang again and talk about mutual interests. We are all involved, or have been involved in the Arts and some form of social work (to us the phrase loosely). It's an easy flow of interests and conversation . The blessing was only mixed because it reminded me of what I have missed so much whilst being stuck at home for 7 years.....the banter, the in-jokes, the putting to rights of the woes of the world, ....just the length of time we've all known each other and the interwoven nature of our lives.

We got there about 2 and left about 5. I couldn't do any more. Today, I'm left with some lovely new memories and a kind of sad winsomeness for more of the same. However,the renewed contact with old friends has led to invitations to more get-togethers and lunch and private views, so if I can pace myself and make the effort I hope to to lose touch again.

The bad news is that I am in a battle with my pension plan company who want me to meet with a doctor who is the devil incarnate when it comes to attitudes to and treatment of people with M.E. If I refuse I'm afraid they'll refuse to go on paying my premiums. If I accept their cordial 'invitation' I'm afraid the stress and upset will make me more ill for a while. This is a man who, amongst other things, lists one of his expertise as 'malingering at work' and has interests in an organisation involved with the Insurance business which says they belive that 'M.E. is the new banner word for neurosis'.....nice !

Anyway, as ever, life's a mixed bag but for now I had a lovely time yesterday and the sun is shining so I shall forget Doctor Evil and enjoy the day,

Edith Piaf - Mon Dieu - 1961

A bit of class for you to enjoy while I relocate my mojo

Just to get a bit of perspective on my own trials and tribulations:Respect, sympathy and stigma

Just to put things in perspective vis a vis my recent glums...here's something to consider which brings to mind people who are far worse off than me:


Goldfish has written such an eloquent piece about how 'impairment is a morally neutral aspect of the human condition' and hence anti-stigma campaigns about disability/impairment are virtually bankrupt because the only place they lead to is pity and sympathy when what people with disability want and need is respect and acceptance.



She's right, of course. The anti-stigma stuff doesn't work at all and the sympathy and pity is no help to someone with a chronic illness or a mental illness (which Goldfish goes on to discuss) but it's hard not to feel sympathy, distress when you see someone with mental illness in a pitiable state.



I say this because in our little country town there was a thriving drop-in centre for people with mental health issues. When I was still at work I developed some projects with them too, so I saw the place from the inside. It was warm, welcoming and had well trained and experienced staff who offered a wide range of formal, informal and creative opportunities. Best of all the people who used the centre loved it, appreciated it and for many it was the centre (pardon the pun) of their lives. It had a warm inclusive feeling and was like a family.



A year ago, the funding was pulled. Nobody understood why and nobody but the people in charge of the finances at the Health Authority wanted the service pulled. There were petitions, demonstrations, articles in the local paper...all to no avail. The place closed and the worst fears of the community and the people who had used the Centre were realised: people in the town who had mental health issues had almost nowhere else to go; at least nowhere that was open six days a week, 9-6 with an open-door policy. So what do we find ? We find what I witnessed yesterday.....



There are two men, in particular, who wander about our town and the surrounding countryside all day and some of the night. They have mental health issues and probably problems with alcohol and drugs. To me, they are not scary or frightening. I feel genuine concern for their welfare and worry whenever I see them, but then I've 'worked in mental health' (as the saying goes). In the old days these fellows would have almost certainly found a welcome at the Centre and they would likely as not have used it. Many similar people were regular users in the old days. No doubt they are attached to some residential facility even now but as they are deemed to be no danger to anyone and deserve autonomy they are free to wander where and when they will. This is right and proper but when you see these same men filthy dirty, talking to voices, gesticulating and, yesterday, spending much of the day under the bushes by the petrol station looking lost and terrified like frightened, wounded animals you wonder what has happened to the world and who on earth really cares for these guys.



They do deserve respect but they deserve dignity too and there's no dignity for them as they are. They are shunned and ridiculed, pitied and feared. Left to their own devices how can they ever hope not to be stigmatised or understood. You can spend all the money you like on anti-stigma campaigns but until you work on the core care needs of people like these men it's all a waste of effort and money.

If life's a race, I'm a straggler

Over the past few weeks I keep being brought up against my past. It's a past I don't like to dwell on; a past I've learnt to brush aside because it's too painful now. It's a past where I had a job, money, work colleagues, respect, loyalty, appreciation and felt a part of the world. It's a past doing a job I loved (most of the time), that I'd worked very hard to get and worked very hard to stay in.

First there was the job in the local paper --- a Development Worker for a project that I initiated seven years ago and working with someone who used to phone me for ideas and inspiration (this sounds big-headed but it's true). It was a project very close to my heart for personal as well as professional reasons. I'd love to do that job, love to apply. I even fantasised that I would. 'It's only 18 hours a week....I could manage that....'

Who am I kidding ? The last few weeks with the kids at home 24/7 has been a nightmare in terms of energy. I love my kids more than my own life. I fought hard to have them too but this bloody condition makes even enjoying time with them hard sometimes. Going back to work would be a breeze in comparison except that where I write 'breeze' I should write 'Force 3 hurricane' because the holidays have been Force 5 and you can't stand up in one of those and I can barely stand up now.

The second jog was going to the seaside at the weekend. We drove down and past where I had a beach hut ---given up 6 months after I got ill because I could no longer afford the ground rent and anyway at that point I couldn't even get out of bed, let alone go to the bloody beach. Even now it's nigh on impossible to get there because it crackers me. We drove past where I used to work every Monday afternoon (sessional work) and to a cafe we went to all the time and past a place where I made a film for TV in 1999. I could see myself...blundering through my peaks and troughs of energy even then, never letting on and determined not to be beaten by my health. Even then I was more ill then I realised or anyone else knew. All of that is gone. I cannot fight the bloody illness anymore in that way. I can't pull out reserves because there are none -- only the meagre wisps of energy that float about in my body like mare tail clouds on a sunny day; except none of this is sunny.

Jogs and bad luck always come in threes and the third came today. On Saturday, we're all meant to go to a big party for an old friend who I used to work with. God knows she has had her own health problems for the last year and I haven't actually seen her face to face for 6 years. I'm praying I can get there and I can't stand the idea of disappointing her because she's told me several times how much she's looking forward to us being together. When we both worked (she's taken early retirement now on health grounds) we cooked up all sorts of jolly things and made each other laugh and laugh. It wasn't like work but like a jolly day out. That's gone too. Then this afternoon after the friend had send a round-robin e mail with directions for Saturday I got a surprise e mail from another old work colleague who I haven't heard from since I first left work nearly 7 years ago. It was a really sweet message asking how I was and saying she is looking forward to seeing me too. She had moved miles away so that is why I have not heard from her but it also reminded me of all the other work colleagues who were, apparently so close to me and with whom I worked so closely (and socialised) and who seemed to vapourise about 2 months after I got ill. Suddenly they were too busy and I wasn't even able to talk properly at that point.

You can see I'm in a dip. I've had to work hard, over the past 4 years especially, to forget the hurt of 'friends' disappearing, the pain of having to leave a job I loved, of starting and then having to abandon things I'd started, to try to ignore avenueswhich call to me because I know I have the mental and emotional capacity to achieve them but not the physical strength or stamina. This condition can be like being in a straightjacket. I've had to learn to appreciate what I do have , appreciate the small things and find new ways of being. I've had to learn to try and forget things I would love to do, places I'd love to go, people I'd love to see, big ambitions because it's too difficult to achieve or would compromise my ability to attend to everyday duties and responsibilities.

What I also realise now is that, for years, undiagnosed and being told I was neurotic, mistaken, deluded, lazy, not trying hard enough, I tried all the harder to be like other people. It feels and always did feel like everyone else could go faster than me and I was lagging behind. I either couldn't keep up or kept up and suffered inside.

Now, some days, most days actually, I believe I've come to terms with how things are, how I am, and what is possible and what is not and where patience and pragmatism are better options than delusion and relapse.

Some days, the reminders are too strong and I can't keep up the pretence that this compromised life is bearable. Today is one of those days and I'm straggling behind everyone else.

Beggin' - Frankie Valli video re-mix

I love this video at the moment. Always loved Frankie Valli and the original mix of this has all sorts of lovely memories