My wee bit at the Warning: May Contain Nuts night at Reading

Hello everybody not out on a Friday, like me!

There’s some bits missing at the end- I didn’t bother saving what I’d written but I do think I said, “Don’t forget to thank your psychiatrist, just don’t do it a week later standing outside his house”.  OOH MATRON, MY SIDES!  Then I was carried off by burly, naked men to the rousing strains of, “We Are the Champions”.

That’s me there- and yes! I am chubby and yes! I am very short, with a whited out face for CONFIDENTIALITY purposes (or by malevolently glaring lighting, or benevolent glaring lighting, depending on your perspective) performing (or reading, as it was) a bit from my Insane Guide stuff.  I was very nervous as I’d never done anything like that before.  Most of us hadn’t, I think we were all rather good considering!  The only act I didn’t really like was the compere, as it basically revolved around antipsychiatry and telling people they were wrong for ever taking medication.  The idea that mental illness is a social construction is a valid and worthy one, but lots of people there relied on medication to keep them functioning enough to roll their eyes at him.   I was petrified though as the idea of a whole room full of people staring at me scared the shit out of me, and I wasn’t aware I was being filmed either, which would have made me throw myself onto the assembled spikes in the front row (not pictured).  I wasn’t feeling too good that day! I’ve only just managed to allow people to take photos of me and even then it’s on the proviso that I don’t have to look at them.  That also means I read my own BBC Ouch articles on my mobile browser with the images turned off.

Anyway!  I had written a sizeable proportion of it on the day and also made a lot of shit up as I stood there (y’know what, I wasn’t aware it was mostly a comedy night until I got there, which goes to show just how organised I am.  I was supposed to do two bits, but bottled out of one for that reason) so thanks to the chaps there for being kind and helpful to me, and also to the Independent for being kind to me.  And my tights for not falling down, as I’d snapped the fecking elastic and was battling to keep them on my arse.

Anyway, yes, there you go, then!  I’m proud of myself for doing it and being a part of the evening, and once I got past the fear of defecation, I really enjoyed it.  Thank you to Danny for uploading it, and here are more videos from the night, such as the Mad Hatter himself here:

I hope he uploads the John Hegley things and Amy’s Ghost, both who were amazing.

PS:  Vote for Mark Brown as Mind Champion! Or not, if you prefer to vote for someone else.  BUT VOTE FOR MARK! HE IS LOVELY!

Obligatory, “I had an appointment” update

I hid my last blog entry for the reasons I stated in the entry i.e paranoia!  And edited another for the same reason.

I had a social worker appointment yesterday and apparently the receptionist told her to come down because I seemed high.  I don’t think I did, I just didn’t notice the disabled access thing by the toilet so had a swing on it (and why not?) and walked around a bit.  I am highly amused at this, though, I can imagine a big red button they hit behind reception when someone is being mental.  The thing is, the line is so blurred these days.  I mean, is that a bluetooth headset, or is that guy schizophrenic?

Anyway, my social worker thinks I’m getting (hypo?)manic, or am, and I had to beg off crisis team involvement.  I like them as people, they’re lovely and friendly, but they eat into your day, you have to be in when they call, they don’t leave “Sorry You Were Out” cards like the Royal Mail do when they pretend to ring your doorbell.

She asked to speak to Robert instead, to see if he’s dealing okay.  He is, and he is not worried about me.  For a start, my temperament suits him and he appreciates hyperness and strangeness.  He asks me to sleep but apart from that I don’t need him to care for me in anyway.  He says his relaxed attitude is maybe wrong, but there you go.  A prescription for zopiclone was pushed through my letterbox today- it’s a week’s script signed by the psychiatrist.  (It was initially denied to me by the GP who thinks I’m “high risk” for overdosing, despite having done so only four times in my life, twice of those as a teenager)  I don’t know if I’ll get it from the chemist’s or not.  Part of me misses sleeping and the ritual of sleep and part of me likes not sleeping much, although I wake up and find more often than not that I am violently shaking.   She also told him that the crisis team and crisis centre were available, should I need them, or he need them.

I’m not worried, either.  Robert agrees with the social worker and I probably am a bit high (I have a few symptoms and it tallies with my past experience: racing thoughts, insomnia, talking a lot, impulsivity, I guess, non-stop fidgeting and have been more active and full of energy, productive in the sense of getting more than usual done and doing more, but not that creatively because I’m still having trouble concentrating, things or people going too slow piss me off and irritate me so sometimes I sound like Robert’s mum shouting, “Come on!” at him. and also really quite happy, though “grandiose” too, if my social worker is to be believed) but I feel good and I don’t want help, nor would I take any medication for it harder than zopiclone (and nor would the psychiatrist prescribe it, as he doesn’t think I have bipolar and nor do I most of the time.  My social worker does).   Although the background of white noise is annoying sometimes, and I keep getting my speech mixed up (and had a dark moment of panic last night when I suddenly realised one day my name would be on a gravestone with a number after it, as would Robert’s, but it passed quickly), I mostly feel a lot more positive than I have done in a long time.   My next appointment is on Monday and no psychiatric appointment is scheduled so nobody is too worried and hopefully I won’t be pushed into anything.  I just feel better and I’d like to carry on.  Yes, lack of sleep is troubling and physically wrecking me but it’s better than sleeping too much, wasting the day and feeling depressed.  I know I might become depressed but right now I’m not at risk to myself, I’m functioning (mostly) okay, things between Robert and me are amazing and he is not worried, so, that’ll do me!

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