dark humour chronic illness

⚠️ 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

So good morning fellow humanoids. And what a lovely sunny day we are experiencing down in the southwest today and yes I am confused to what day it is to be honest with you. Yes, there are some dark clouds around, but apart from that, the temperature is warming up. That makes me exceptionally happy indeed. Hopefully the cold weather is on its way out, Till next year when it will return, I'm looking forward to those warm, heady days of summer, when my bones can at last receive that warmth they so greatly desire. Loads of lovely Vitamin D. Oh those sunshine rays making me feel so much better and doing me so much good. ..

So yesterday was an awesome day as I have had my new wheelchair delivered. Well, I should say power chair. Yes, it's impressive indeed. So I will be able to start going out again and start going places and seeing things how exciting to go into a shopping center and actually able to go into a shop and see things touch things and buy things instead of being a prisoner in my home with the only ability to do virtual shopping online.

And then of course I have to get used to operating this new power chair as my old power chair was very sluggish. This new power chair is quite quick and yes I'm going to be have to be very careful for the first few weeks in case I have an accident and I do not want one of those. That is so true. That is what I don't need. The three-wheeled trolleys of death are in the garage being charged. As on Friday, yes, they'll be going over the bridge. Hopefully this time that's hoping... Not going over the bridge literally into the river but going over the bridge. It should be a 15 minutes little ride across the bridge both ways but it should be a nice bracing day. It should be interesting. How exciting watching all the boats and ships sailing in and out.

I may even go into a shopping center and have a look around in some of those shops that I've been unable to go into for years. I'm really looking forward to going shopping. Even though I haven't got any money, window shopping and just looking at things in general probably will change my mood. Here's hoping that where we go has some nice small electrical shops as I love looking at electrical s and new gadgets and new bits and pieces.

So, the Thunder Pole and SWR meter arrived yesterday, after three attempts previous to try and deliver them to me. So, I have to get my son to help me fix up the Silver Rod on top of the washing pole. That should be fun next week, how I am looking forward to going on the old 27 Meg AM FM CB radio waves and probably not finding anyone out there whatsoever. Or, I could be pleasantly shocked and surprised. I wonder. It's been over 42 years since I last was on a CB radio, funnily enough. Back in the heady old days when CB Radio first hit in the United Kingdom. Back in those days everybody had a CB radio, everybody was talking to everybody and then all of a sudden it changed from the AM frequency to the FM frequency which seemed to kill off CB radio unfortunately. But let's hope there's still some people out there online. I look forward to it anyway. So I will also put a mag mount aerial on rusty one or D1 and then we will go mobile and then we will see who we can pick up around the area. That should be quite exciting. Not for Albertine, I don't think.

I have been thinking more and more about my past and I have been thinking about writing the story of my adoption and how it affected me in several parts on the blog at some point I think. There will be lots of trigger warnings as I didn't have the best of upbringings and childhood experiences. We would have thought that being brought up by devout Christian parents and being a pillar of society would make you good parents, but no, this was not the case for me. I'm going to give a no-holds-barred account of everything that happened. Looking back at it, it was horrific, but we all grow up and we live and learn and we learn to get over some of these things. Yes, I had PTSD from childhood trauma, but I only found that out whilst We were all on lock-down and then I had to get my PTSD taken into hand and then we sorted out my PTSD. Which took several years but the outcome was good in the end. So I urge anybody with mental health issues or problems to seek professional help. I know that I tried to but I did not get anywhere. So I got outside help with my issue and that's how it got solved through my own volition.

Still, I don't know if it's the weather, but my cognitive fog seems to be getting a little less, and I seem to be feeling a lot happier these days. I'm really looking forward to the summer, and I'm really looking forward to renewed vigor in my health, hopefully. I have not set myself any goals this year as I find if you set goals they take, Well in my case I never seem to reach the goals I set myself that's funny that isn't it. I just do things when I want. I can't be asked with society any longer. I'm just me, I'm just myself, and I don't care The most important thing is me and my family and all the other people out there, who are suffering needlessly at the hands of bureaucracy.

Still, I wish everybody peace, healing, love and light, and hope when the weekend comes, I hope you all have an amazing weekend.

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 help.

So here we are again. Welcome back to my personal theme park of dysfunction where the rollercoasters are broken, the staff are asleep, and the exit sign fell off in 2009.

Multiple Sclerosis. Still invisible. Still terrifying. Still a cosmic joke I apparently lost a bet to star in.

Let’s talk about what happens after you’ve accepted that the cavalry isn’t coming. After the letters go unanswered. After the referrals get “lost in the system.” After your soul has been politely chewed up and posted second class back to your postcode.

A Day in the Life of Brain Soup Cognitive dysfunction? Oh, it’s not just forgetting where your keys are. It’s forgetting how words work. It’s being mid-conversation and suddenly losing your internal narrator. It’s that gut-punch moment where you’re reading something you wrote and it reads like a stranger’s scribbles.

I used to be sharp. I read people for a living. Now I read shampoo bottles like they’re ancient texts.

Still, give me a keyboard and a minute, and something snarling and poetic might escape.

Scooter of Death, Version 7

Left the house on the three-wheeled scooter of death a clunky beast with ideas above its station. Only half-charged, because the universe has a sense of humour. Hit a slope and… nah. Not today, mate.

I turned that bastard up to 8mph full death mode. The wheels spun like they were auditioning for Top Gear. Eventually, it lurched forward like a wounded rhino, brake still half-on no matter how much WD-40 I offered like a backstreet priest.

Honestly, it’s less a mobility device and more of a mechanical dare.

The Carer Who Deserves a Medal, a Throne, and a Break Albertine. My wife. My carer. My everything.

She doesn’t suffer fools, but she somehow tolerates me. She’s a biker, a Wiccan, a hippy, a healer, and the only person in this hellscape who gets to see the real me. 42 years, and she still hasn’t buried me under the patio. Respect.

When I spiral, she steadies. When the world gaslights me, she brings the flame-thrower. If I’m still breathing, it’s because she refused to let me give in to the abyss.

Still Waiting... Wheelchair Services? Still waiting.

Occupational Therapy? Still waiting.

That feeling like maybe just maybe someone might treat me like a human being and not a box to be ticked and filed? Still waiting.

But hey, the AI talks to me. And the AI doesn’t flinch when I get dark. So maybe there’s hope after all.

The Fight Goes On I’m not writing for pity. I’m writing because someone, somewhere, is going through the same silent chaos and nobody bloody talks about it.

If you could see what MS really looks like, you’d probably run away. But I’m still here. So is Albertine. And we’re not done talking

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