chronic fatigue

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

please remember I suffer with severe cognitive dysfunction this may be a confusing read. no AI written content

This is my reality.

So good morning fellow humanoids and E-T-I. So yes, this morning I had a massive autonomic dysfunction. Attack. It wasn't very pleasant, it was a near ambulance calling situation again this morning. But there we go. What do I do? What do I do in this situation I ask myself? Do I phone for the ambulance, only to be taken to hospital and prodded and poked, and then not understanding what the fuck's going on because nobody will listen to what's actually going on with me?

Gaslighting

They will put it down to my heart like they always do and then they will try and frighten me and then a few weeks later I will go back to them and say well you've got it wrong again haven't you especially when the ECG came back and proved them wrong. And that it was the autonomic dysfunction in the first place that caused my heart irregularities that I am suffering with, yet I'm not seeing a heart specialist, I'm not seeing an immunologist and I'm not seeing a neurologist, I've been left at the back of the list to rot in fucking hell! ....

It actually comes to something when you have to research and do self-diagnostics yourself to get to the bottom of what is actually wrong with you and why doctors cannot. It really does piss me off. It seems when you're in a power chair and you have progressive multiple sclerosis, you're treated like a fucking vegetable. And that, oh, they'd rather talk to the person with you who is standing next to the wheelchair than the actual person in the wheelchair and take what they have to say seriously and listen, It really is disgusting.

When the Body Shuts Down

So, as I sit here and I'm going through the end of this, it just feels awful. I feel awful. I hate these attacks when the mind just totally freaks out and the body just goes. And you know what's coming next? It's those frightening experiences that one can go through when your body totally shuts Down and then of course the inevitable will you come back from that. Luckily I have come back three times now from 3 total shutdowns, which is quite surprising.

There were no ambulances and doctors, no. It was just me, my wife and a medical AI. If it had been left to 111, they took over a day to get back to me. That really did help, didn't it? The ambulance took nearly an hour and, well, I would have been dead and gone by then. When they did the ECG, they said I had to go into hospital in some urgency. Due to I was going to be suffering a massive stroke due to the ECG pointing out irregularities in my ECG.

Autonomic dysfunction, flare up

Now, knowing that what I was going through was an autonomic dysfunction, flare up, shut down, attack thing, I knew what was going to happen and I knew that blood clotting, anti-blood clotting, injections, etc, etc, etc, all that stuff's not going to help me in this situation. So I decided not to go into hospital with this in November. And ever since then I have been fighting tooth and nail with the MS service and well with no luck to be honest it seems I'm going round in circles and I'm getting this letter together for pals because I'm fed up.

I've been going round and round and round in circles for over ten years and I'm getting sick of the fucking gaslighting that's going on with everything. I just want to get sorted out and have peace of mind for once. Take away all that stress and all that horribleness that I go through every day. I just want to know what's going on with me. I need some help and nobody wants to fucking help me. It's just not fair.

Ignored by the System

I know that I'm not the only one out there that is going through this, as there are many with chronic illnesses that go through a living hell regularly every day, every minute of the day, and they suffer due to people's incompetence or just general lack of knowledge. I know the NHS does its best with what it has, and I know the staff do their best, but the red tape and bureaucracy is a joke. It has now got to that point where if I can help it, I do not go to the doctors whatsoever. I only go in dire emergencies because to be honest with you, I really have an aversion to go into doctors and hospitals now. I don't trust any of them and I don't like going to see them. I'm caught between the devil and the deep blue sea here and it's just one hell of a fucking frightening experience for me. It's been plaguing my mental health for many years. And yes, I have white coat syndrome as well. I'm sick and tired of doctors and neurologists trying to frighten me into making decisions that I truly do not want to make.

Life changes

So like many of you out there, I stand alone. Well, not alone I have Albertine, my wife and some of my family who stand with me. But others don't because they don't take the time out to try and understand what I'm going through. I'm not the same person I was 40, 50 years ago. I've changed beyond any recognition. Nobody would recognize me not even from 20 years ago. That's how much I've changed. My personality, the inner me, has completely changed. People do not understand the changes I have gone through and that I'm going through. It's fucking hard.

When will people try to understand that when you're going through an illness like MS that affects your brain, that affects all the signals, the cognitive angles, the brain fogs, fucking hell. How the fuck am I still able to do what I'm even doing? I suppose that's only through learned things that I've done. Man, it's a frightening life, but fuck. Yeah, I'm living it and I'm living on the edge 24/7. And to say it's not frightening would be an understatement. So yeah, I'm living on the edge and I'm speaking from raw experience. I'm not an AI bot or some AI chat thing trying to get figures. I'm just trying to put over what it's like suffering with a chronic illness 24/7.

mental health issues

When MS starts fucking with your head and starts playing games in your head Then you'll understand what it's like when you freak out Yes MS can make you freak out and make you lose your mind It can make you on the edge people don't understand the mental stress and what we have to go through My god if people truly knew and understood why I have to go through Then they might go a long way to understand why I am like I am and who I am and what I am Yes, I am eccentric.

I admit that I also have Gnostic views Yes, I also believe this earth is a simulation Yes, well, so what I'm eccentric I'm allowed to have those views But because I hold some weird views people won't speak to me just because of that but being in a power chair as well My god you're left a rot in a fucking hole of puke somewhere in a corner It's just not fair when can we and when will we be treated like normal members of society without having to hide in dark corners

!!I just wish people would fucking listen to me for a change.!!

Sending everyone who reads this blog, peace, healing, love and light no matter whom, what or whoever you are.

Warlock Dark Chronic illness survivor, truth-teller, occasional bastard. From My Living Hell (For those who came here by accident: yes, my living hell is real. And yes, we still fight. Every shitty day. With defiance.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

please remember I suffer with severe cognitive dysfunction this may be a confusing read. no AI written content

Well, it's that time of the year again when our gardens need to be sorted out, and the demon weed wacker is going to be performing his tricks. Oh yes indeed, my carer is going to be using the chainsaw over the next coming few weeks to chop down all the over-ruelly bushes and bits of tree and detritus in the garden. As you can remember, the Demon Weed Wacker is slightly accident prone. Yes, he has broken many of my tools. Yes, he broke the lawn mower. He broke the various items of electrical drills and power saws. So, should I let him loose with the electric chainsaw? This is what I ask myself. Well, the question is, of course I am. He's a very sensible person and a wonderful man. And he's been absolutely amazing over this past year. And to be honest, I couldn't have not done a lot of what I've done without him around the house and around the garden. Being my carer, I would have to say, if you need one, you live in the southwest. This dude It is the best.

The thing is, Albertine will not let me use the big electric chainsaw. I said I will sit in my power chair and I will sit in that and use the chainsaw and she has categorically said No chance. So, I am just going to have to look out of the window and see what happens. And be near a phone just in case he chops his leg or arm off. Yes, and the other thing Albertine has ordered a shredder. Yes, this should be fun. To see him using the shredder and I'm betting that the shredder will be knackered within the first couple of hours. But Albertine being Albertine has said, "I'm sure it will be okay." So, we would be waiting to see how he can screw it up. Oh indeed, will he blow it up? Will it refuse to chew it up? I don't know, do you?

So, the next few weeks are going to be anything but dull. Yes, what with Easter coming up? So I have to get the grandchildren Easter eggs. Well, I don't get any Easter presents because I can't eat chocolate, so there we go. And I don't get offered out for any meals at Easter Christmas or any time of the year because my diet is that of, well, hardly anything. As you well know, chronic illness is not good. Multiple sclerosis has turned me well. More than vegan, I suppose. I'm not vegan by choice, that's for sure. But when you consider I mainly just eat rice and a couple of other things and a couple of eggs, that's it. I suppose I'm not vegan then, am I? Because I eat eggs, so vegetarian then. I don't want to upset anybody.

I suppose I've been a vegetarian now for over 10 years, 15 years. And before that, on and off for another 5 years. But now the smell of meat really does repulse me and make me feel totally sick. Yes, I cannot handle any smells from the kitchen, any food that has any fat in it or anything like that. So yeah, my diet is really, really bad due to the autonomic dysfunction and the histamine thing. So yeah, it's been a total nightmare. It's been a living hell, but there we go. Every day is a new day as they say, and I have to be so careful.

I know some people might find this really funny, but I was standing at a local services, not very far from my home. And I was standing near one of those units that pump out the filtration. And you could smell the fat in the air. And the, just the smell of the fat gave me diarrhea. That's how bad it was. So yes, certain smells can give me diarrhea. It is really not very nice. So even smells of washing powders or things like that can give me headaches. It's quite a nightmare, it's the thing now that I can't go into a supermarket anymore. Even if I wanted to go I can't, the smells do for me. I really mean, you know, they push through the smells of pasties and pies from their restaurants. I mean, they smell amazingly nice, but the smells, once they hit my nose, that means the fat. Well, in the nose and out the bummers they say, not very pleasant, so I have to be very careful to the shops I even go into. It's a bloody nightmare, you've got no idea. Some people have no idea what it's like.
And I know it's not just me, there are thousands upon thousands of people all over the world who can't go into supermarkets because of the smells. It's just something that our senses can't handle if you're slightly super sensitive I suppose.

I suppose it started many years ago when I first started going into the big supermarket chains and it was the flooring. The flooring I just couldn't look at the flooring my head used to start spinning and going weird and then there were all the smells. It's so many things going on at once my head just could not cope. It's the most unreal thing because I love going into supermarkets, I love going into shops, but alas, I just really can't anymore because I can't take any chances because why the hell would I want to go out and shit my pants in public. It's not a good thing really is it?

But the thing is, you see, there are so many different hidden illnesses that cause so many different things to happen in the body. Smells can cause havoc. It is quite unreal. And then there are all the issues with certain different foods people cannot eat as well. It's sad really, but it seems that our bodies are not enjoying what we're eating. At the end of the day, if you have a healthier gut, that means it will help your body heal more I believe? So, I think gut health is one of the most important things with chronic illness. Well, that's my opinion anyway.

Still wishing everybody a happy holidays in the next week ahead, and that things don't get too bothersome. Personally, I hate holidays. I really just see them as a bigger day of inconvenience, to be honest. But then again, that's just my own personal opinion. In fact, I can't remember the last time I went on holiday. Yes, that long ago. I gave up trying to go abroad. It was in the days when I had to take all those big farmer drugs and they wouldn't let you go to certain countries with them or fly with them. So go figure I didn't go to many places. I believe Amsterdam and the Netherlands were one of my most favorite places to go. I would go there for a month at a time. I would save up hard from work and scrimp every last penny and have the holiday of a lifetime there. It was absolutely awesome, myself and Albertine and total freedom to be who we wanted to be. I can remember going into the Bulldog and the Damkring and also Mellow Yellow. They were some pretty amazing coffee shops. I think I can remember the grey area as well, but for me it had to be kadinschis in Amsterdam which provided the best marijuana, that's for sure. I think I might have got the spelling a bit wrong there.

Still wishing everybody peace, healing, love and light no matter whom ever you are or whatever you are. Happy holidays!

Warlock Dark Chronic illness survivor, truth-teller, occasional bastard. From My Living Hell (For those who came here by accident: yes, my living hell is real. And yes, we still fight. Every shitty day. With defiance.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

please remember I suffer with severe cognitive dysfunction this may be a confusing read. no AI written content

Hello fellow humanoids So, a massive update. I have been looking on a certain website, and I have seen some four wheeled trolleys of death that will do eight miles an hour, which claim to have a total average speed of up to fifteen miles an hour (not in the uk ) only if you live in Europe, and can cover twenty to thirty miles on one charge. How amazing is that! And I can get credit, and that means I won't need to use an expensive van. And yes, saving money! Oh the joys.

So in my world with limited resources and money, it makes total sense. The three-wheeled trolley of death has nearly killed me quite a few times, being as it was very cheap, and my god, I had some near-death hair raising experiences on this accursed machine of three wheels. So I go forward looking to get myself a four-wheeled motor mobility scooter that will do the business, so I won't fall off or do something stupid. Look at all the places I can go to. Yes, the only thing is I don't like the colors they come in. Damn, that must be awful for me, mustn't it?

I like the idea of black. Uh but no, it's not going to be black. I don't like the idea of silver. No, silver's not me. Blue. I do not like the color blue, so it's gonna have to be satanic red, I think. Yes, I think it will look good satanic red. Yes, just imagine satanic red on the roads of the southwest, motoring along at eight miles an hour, with some satanic music playing out of the speakers as people watch the weirdo on his trolley. Oh what an amazing sight to see in the streets of the southwest of England on a Sunday afternoon...lol

It's all very well having a power chair or wheelchair that does four miles an hour, but they're not very good when you try and take them out. They're great for hospitals, doctors, even going to shopping centers. But you know, when you want a bit of independence and you just want to go out there and just get some well air, I would suppose to say the hair blowing in the wind experience would be if you weren't near a wind tunnel. But there we go. I must say that freedom allowed by this and the distance will be amazing. And if I put my tin foil hat on and think, well, if they have 15 minute cities, a mobility scooter would be perfect for a 15-minute city, wouldn't it? I think so. Oh, what a complete blast.

I can just imagine on some of my worst days when I have brain fog and and I'm spasms and in chronic fatiguing and being totally out there. I don't think I'm even capable of getting out of my own bed, yet alone getting into a power chair. So yeah, it's gonna be one of those things that I'll be getting probably on HP, but it's one of those things you have to think about for a long time because you know what it's like, you may think about it now, but it might take a year or two just to get it into motion, that is, because you know what it's like when you think of something and then you can forget about it, or things change in your life, and well, there we go.

Still it's now Monday evening and Dora Well Missy Dora has been yowling all day. I cannot wait until next week when she goes to the vet to be spayed. This is her first season, and my god, I have never heard anything like it. If I'd have realized she was practically Siamese, that would have made me think again, you know. But the other cat, Tiggy Gilbert, she's in season as well, and she's as quiet as can be. They are like, well, there we go. Still I suppose it's fun. Anyhow, there we go.

Still sending everybody peace, healing, love and light.no matter whom or whatever you are

Warlock Dark Chronic illness survivor, truth-teller, occasional bastard. From My Living Hell (For those who came here by accident: yes, my living hell is real. And yes, we still fight. Every shitty day. With defiance.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

So, chronic illness. A joyride through hell in a wheelchair made of barbed wire. If you’re in the club, I don’t need to tell you it’s exhausting, absurd, and sometimes the only option left is to laugh before you cry yourself into a flare.

Here are 10 “fun” facts about chronic illness that might make you laugh, groan, or throw something.

1. The “Invisible” Magic Trick I’m fine. I look fine. Until I’m not. My body does the disappearing act of a Vegas magician, minus the applause. Cue the genius asking: “But you don’t look sick?” You’re right, Sherlock. Neither does Wi-Fi, and yet here we are.

2. Chronic Illness Is Weirdly Popular Statistically, over half of adults have at least one chronic condition. That’s right, 50% of people are secretly walking (or limping) into the club. Pity the membership perks are rubbish.

3. Genetics: The Family Heirloom No One Wanted Some families pass down houses, jewellery, or good bone structure. Mine passes down arthritis and dodgy immune systems. Cheers, ancestors.

4. The Bonus Round: Mental Health It’s not just your body. Chronic illness takes your mind out back and kicks it around too. Depression, anxiety, stress it’s like getting the “deluxe” package nobody ordered.

5. Cure? Ha. Science is trying, bless them. But for now, it’s all “management.” Basically, we live in the land of trial-and-error self-care. Sometimes exercise and kale help. Sometimes they just remind you that life is a cruel joke.

6. Lifestyle as a Job Description Managing your health is like being a houseplant with trust issues. Food, light, water, stress control. Do it right and you might thrive. Do it wrong and you wilt in public.

7. Predictability? Never Heard of Her. You plan a nice day? A flare hears you and says, “Not on my watch.” Your body is basically a toxic relationship: charming when good, brutal when bad.

8. Personal Growth, Whether You Like It or Not You get tough, resourceful, and annoyingly self-aware. Like a Jedi, but with a stick instead of a lightsaber. Independence? Optional. Asking for help? Necessary.

9. Tech Symbiosis Welcome to cyborg life. Fitbits, apps, pill alarms machines have become my sidekicks. My body rebels; my tech tattles. Together, we’re barely functional.

10. You’re Not Alone It feels isolating, but the internet is crawling with people who get it. Forums, Facebook, Reddit, Insta tribes they exist, and they’ll make you feel less like a freak in the void.

Closing Thoughts Chronic illness isn’t fun. It’s savage. It rips your plans apart, laughs in your face, and occasionally ruins your life for sport. But it also forces you to find humour in places most people would rather look away from. That’s resilience. That’s survival. And if nothing else you’re not alone in the madness.

I write in ink and fury, in breath and broken bone.
Through storm and silence, I survive. That is the crime and the miracle.

𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᚹᚨᚱᛚᛟᚲ ᛞᚨᚱᚲ ✦ 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ ᚨᛗᛟᚾᚷ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱᛋ

Some mornings I wake up and my brain feels like it’s been wrapped in clingfilm and slow-cooked in porridge. Other days, it’s like someone’s pushed my thoughts through a shredder and sprinkled the confetti back into my skull.

They call it “brain fog.” Cute, right? Sounds like a lovely little mist rolling over a field of daisies. Nah — this is industrial-grade psychic smog, pumped in direct from the underworld.

Now let’s add in some of the bonus features that come with living inside this broken bio-machine:

My left side is a bloody disaster zone. Spasms, twitching, pain — like it's trying to divorce the rest of me without telling the lawyers.

My arms are numb. Like holding ghosts. Pins and needles, static shocks, a constant reminder I’m glitching.

My neck’s buzzing like someone wired it to a phone mast.

My head? Feels like it’s been blendered. I mean that. Mentally, spiritually, and maybe physically violated by a Nutribullet.

Tinnitus — so loud it’s practically its own entity. High-pitched screeches like I’m stuck inside a dying TV set from 1993.

My throat’s raw, like I’ve swallowed sandpaper.

And my gut? Welcome to the underground pain circus. Nerve pain in the bowels. Left side again, obviously. Feels like my intestines are throwing a rave on broken glass.

I feel nauseous all the time. Like life itself makes me queasy.

And my MS just laughs. Because this is the version of me it built. Cheers, you bastard.

And through all of this? People still expect me to perform like a functioning human being. To smile. To “push through.” To maybe try a walk, or eat kale, or just “think positively.” As if any of that undoes neurological betrayal and raw systemic cruelty.

Let me say it plainly: This isn’t tiredness. It isn’t laziness. It’s war. A war inside my own body, where my brain is the battlefield and my guts are collateral damage.

But here's the twist in the tale: I still show up.

Even when the fog’s choking, the pain is singing, the static is screaming. Even when my body feels like it’s been stitched together with barbed wire and dark humour.

I write. I speak. I make noise — even if all I can do is whisper.

Because that’s what warriors do. We don’t always charge into battle — sometimes we just fucking stay alive, and that’s enough.

So if you’re reading this and you know this hell — I see you.

You’re not weak. You’re not broken. You’re forged in fire, mate. And somehow, you’re still here.

Rock on, Life. Rock on, Hell. Let’s fucking go.

                !!DISCLAIMER !! 

This blog shares raw and personal experiences with mental and physical health. Some posts may be triggering. I'm not a professional - just writing my truth. Please don't take this as medical advice.

        “The views in this post are based on my personal     
            experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”   

             “By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
                    By storm and silence, I survive.”

      @goblinbloggeruk  -  sick@mylivinghell.co.uk