disability humour

🎗️ This Blog is a space for honest conversations about my personal experiences with MS, mental health, and the weird paranormal, liminal, and everything in between. I’m not a doctor, therapist, or expert in the unexplained; I’m just someone sharing my story and offering solidarity. If you’re struggling, please reach out to a trusted friend, support group, or professional. And if the weird stuff sparks your curiosity, remember: stay open-minded, but always prioritise your well-being.🎗️

I’m a power‑chair rider and my first song is all about living with a disability. This song dives into the raw, darkly humorous side of navigating life in a chair my own stories, struggles, and triumphs. Read on for real talk, music vibes, and the truth behind the “Power chair Warrior” name.

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.)
☣ This Is Not A Blog About MS This Is My Life With MS ☣

Tumblr is @livingwithmsblog twitter@livingwithms email warlock@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.

Caps Lock was on. Fitting, really because this weekend deserves to be screamed.

It’s been one of those days where tinnitus isn’t just a sound; it’s a blade, slicing through each ear like a mad surgeon practising on live flesh. My neck and throat are staging their own version of The Exorcist full-body spasms, tongue going numb, and that delightful creeping thought: “what if I swallow it?”

Add a bit of breathlessness, some joint pain in every bloody bone, and the cold biting like a pack of wolves, and you’ve got the full package. Heating? Too expensive. Living? Apparently optional.

Everything costs too much, even pretending to care.

The one bright thought in this black pit? Magnet fishing. Yeah, you heard me. A rope, a magnet, a canal and maybe a bit of hope stuck to the end of it. I’ve been watching Wim and his magnet-fishing crew on YouTube absolute legends. Amsterdam, Rotterdam… the dream. Wim’s laughter, their ridiculous finds, their camaraderie it’s like a brief holiday from hell.

And the pink cake challenge? I’d kill to try it. But I can’t. My diet’s so stripped-down it makes a monk look decadent. No meat, no dairy, no fat animal or vegetable. Even coconut oil’s on the blacklist. My body’s become a warzone where food’s the enemy. I’m wasting away, a ghost of myself.

This afternoon I lay down and held Albertine my one anchor in this chaos. She’s the reason I’m still here, truth be told. When your brain starts glitching like a bad signal and fear crawls up your spine, a hug can feel like the last light in the storm.

I’m slipping, I know it. The fatigue is monstrous. My eyes ache, the light stings, and sleep’s a cruel joke. Still, I keep trying. Keep clawing forward, because what else is there?

I’ve even done a podcast raw, unfiltered, recorded between breakdowns. No one’s listened yet. But maybe one day they will. Maybe they’ll understand what it feels like to live like this half-human, half-howl.

Last night, I dreamt of Yopi in a baby wheely chair. No idea why. Probably my brain finally imploding. Still, better that than another night of endless bathroom trips. I’m tired the kind of tired that lives in your bones. But I’m still here.

Still fighting. Still swearing. Still darkly laughing. Because that’s all I’ve got left and I’ll use it till it burns out.

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

@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.

🏡 Chapter 1: What in the name of Whizzer IS Multiple Sclerosis?! Picture it: The Bumpkin Billionaires inherit a CT scanner and decide to diagnose me.

“Reckon yer brain’s leakin’ somethin’, boy!” says Pa Bumpkin, sticking the plug into a turnip.

🧠 Real Talk: MS is a condition where your immune system has a hissy fit and starts attacking the protective sheath (myelin) around your nerves. It’s like wrapping your wires in wet loo roll and expecting your kettle to work.

🐍 Chapter 2: Symptoms, or “Why is my leg doing the Macarena?” Sid’s Snake is wriggling around my spinal cord: “Ere Sid, why’s ‘is leg twitchin’? You got batteries in yer bum again?”

🔁 Common MS Symptoms:

Numbness

Brain fog (or as Sid calls it, “Soggy noggin”)

Spasticity (tight muscles, not what they used to call you at school)

Fatigue that hits like a cricket bat to the soul

Vision like someone smeared jam on your eyeballs

💸 Chapter 3: Diagnosis – Not a Game of ‘Guess Who?’ Odd-Ball tries to diagnose you by morphing into a GP, a neurologist, and a confused chicken.

🎲 Real Talk: Getting diagnosed with MS involves MRIs, lumbar punctures, blood tests, and usually a couple of years of gaslighting.

“You’re just stressed, love.” “You just need more exercise.” “You’ve got a trapped nerve.”

Or as Odd-Ball puts it: “Have you tried turning your spinal cord off and on again?”

🍰 Chapter 4: Living With MS – Like Baking a Cake With No Recipe and a Flamethrower Ma Bumpkin tries to make me a wellness cake: “Put in some turmeric, a crystal, and chant at it, that’ll fix yer myelin!”

💀 Truth Bomb: Living with MS means daily unpredictability, social misunderstanding, and trying not to murder people who say “But you don’t look ill.”

🛏️ Chapter 5: Fatigue – Not Just Tired, Knackered Beyond the Grave Shiner from Chips tries to outrun me in a wheelchair race. Shiner wins. I am still in bed.

🧠 “Fatigue in MS isn’t just ‘sleepy’. It’s a lead weight in your bones, a fog in your brain, and a punch to your will to live.”

🧙‍♂️ Chapter 6: MS Treatments – Magic Potions and Bloody Side Effects Professor Nutty from Whizzer and Chips tries to cure me with an exploding cauldron and a DIY infusion.

💊 In Real Life:

DMTs (disease-modifying therapies) might slow the MS progression

Steroids for relapses

Gabapentin, Baclofen, and “every pill under the sun” for the other crap

Side effects? Oh yes. All of them.

🧼 Chapter 7: Coping Mechanisms – Or ‘How I Learned to Stop Crying and Love the Chaos’ The Bumpkin Billionaires start an MS yoga retreat with goats, mud, and sausages. It fails catastrophically.

🛠️ Real tips:

Keep a sarcastic blog (tick)

Own your story

Take breaks before your body breaks you

Ask for help (but don’t expect people to understand)

Cultivate dark humour like a fine mouldy cheese

👹 Final Word from me This isn’t your mum’s guide to MS. This is a piss-stained, tea-spilled, rage-and-laughter-soaked survival manual for living with something that tries to break you every bloody day. And like Sid’s Snake, I twist, I turn, but I’m still slithering on.

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