No More

This is going to be a long one. Its been written over several days as i process the incident with the boat that has been mentioned previous

CW: Sexual Assault. Coersive behaviour

I have no doubt that the shithead who assaulted me and tried to coerce me into sex has done that before. And likely raped several people. But if I have anything to do with it I will never be raped again, and although I can handle arseholes like him. And him setting the boat on fire was delicious karma 😁 I could not bear the thought of him being free to predate others, who might not be able to fend him off. And who would likely think they’re responsible for it, and who probably would not be belived.
So I got the police involved. Now, the UK police could stand to learn some from the Egyptian somewhat ironically. I’ve experienced far worse back home and it’s not been taken seriously. EVERY time has resulted in being told that they can’t do anything about it because *insert bullshit excuse here*
Well thus guy picked the wrong person (“rich white tourist”) things were fast tracked, was in court this morning and later found out that the person taking my final statement is a Colonel. ..! Apparently shit for brains is going to prison for 7 years. Which I feel a little but bad about, but then I remember what he did. And the feeling that he’s done this before and would again. So fuck him, or not as the case would be.”

The above is something I posted at the time, but I need to expand on the details. I’ve already discovered that full details are simply untenable, and people just aren’t interested in full detail. Even the legal system, no matter them asking for such.

A few days ago, after a tour in Luxor around Karnak and Luxor temples I went for a falucca ride as had been arranged with the hotel. Basically the captain insisted on a motor boat instead of a sail because there wasn’t enough wind. Which I was okay with until I saw 2 other sail boats out. He’d muttered something about needing another person to sail which later clicked as him manipulating things to make sure that he and I were alone out on the river nile.

Almost immediately after casting off he tried to put something over my head, I recoiled and went and sat down. During the 2 hour ordeal (I had booked for 1 hour) he repeatedly grabbed me, put that stupid ugly plastic necklace on me, put his arm(s) around me and rubbed and/or pulled in. Grabbed my hand and tried to link fingers. Slapped my bum with both hands, tried to touch my face. Put his face up to mine. Came up behind me put both arms army waist and pulled in. Took off my sunglasses, snatched things from my hands like a playground bully looking for attention.
There were parts where I could lose myself in the Nile, the birds and landscape, being on the water. Trying to make the most of what was likely my last chance to do a river sail. Something that wouldhave brought much pleasure and relaxation had it not been for Grabby McGrabby.

I was able to push him away and “handle” him but really I shouldn’t have to. My reactions were automatic, stay calm, don’t provoke and don’t fucking give in. Because never again will anybody coerce me into sex. I do not owe anybody anything. Being attractive to someone does not mean that they get to do with my body as they wish. Them doing some imaginary favour (or, their job that I’m paying them to do) Do not entitle them to demand ANYTHING from me beyond whatever business contract is being done.

So a shit for brains, entitled, misogynistic arsehole who deliberately isolates me, tries to get me to stay overnight, to go visit his village, to come back again for a “free” ride Who lies about doing me a favour when in fact he is literally thinking with his dick and trying to push me into sex is a piece of fucking scum.
Old me, or rather young me, would probably have succumbed because I had been taught that I was weak, I was worthless, I had no rights and I owed men my body. I have been raped in very similar circumstances and older more learned me will NEVER let that happen again.

My reaction included an emotional shut down to cope with what was happening. Since then the reconnect has triggered PTSD I feel sick and angry. I’m sat in a public hotel lobby crying, my skin is crawling and I want to scream. And run away. I want to hide but there’s no safe space for me here so I hide in public, where there are witnesses.

The hotel were i was staying *were * being helpful, of course they don’t want bad press. But they made me sign a release absolving them of responsibility, basically took advantage of me while I was tired and overwhelmed and not able to propaly consider what I was signing. The director is offering all the support but the delegated manager is refusing to give that help. So I’m fucking angry at him. But ill deal with that later, when I’ve had some time and got some advice.

But at the time they were great. At for end of the sail grabby McFucknuts demanded cash. It was to be paid via the hotel reception, and after tormenting me for 2 hours he then followed me all the way to reception demanding money and my room number. I got them to talk to him, he claimed I’d asked for 2hrs, I shut that down immediately. Eventually he went and I was free to make the complaint I had intended on. I turned back to reception staff they did the obligatory “did you enjoy your time? ” and I heard myself saying No. Saw their faces drop and my voice continued to say that he’d keep touching and grabbing me. They sprung into action. Within minutes I had 3 managers talking to me, 2 of them came out with me to identify him and security escorted him back through the hotel while the other 2 remained with me.
I thought about leaving it at that, him setting the boat on fire had been wonderful and at the time enough for me.
But the staff pushed for me to get the police involved, I thought about all the times that UK police have refused to act on far worse things and how I would be dealing with a foreign legal system in a country notorious for its misogyny. And how that would tie up my limited holiday time and how I just wanted to have a fucking relaxing holiday. And I thought, I’ll just leave it.

Though they assured me that the police if involved would actually take it seriously. And I thought about how I did not want him doing that to anyone else. And I thought about how he’s almost certainly assaulted and raped before, he was so confident with his moves there was no subtlety. Initially it did not set off warning alarms, I have already experienced an astronomical amount of entitled groping and non consensual touching here. Men feel fine literally grabbing tourists, particularly women and female presenting persons. This place is a cess pool of predators and sickening attitudes. That him taking my hand when I was getting on the boat was nothing different to anything else, especially compared to the streets of Cairo!

I’ve met very few genuinely kind and nice people since getting here. Most people are out to fleece tourists and/or predate women. My Luxor tour guide is one of those that stands out as a real nice genuine lovely person, I’ll get back to him later.

Once I decided that I could do something to get this creep away from others, and that he might actually face some sort of justice then I agreed to getting the police involved. Knowing that as soon as I said yes my time was no longer my own and I was subjecting myself to an unknown system in a language I don’t speak.

One lady, working at the desk I was sat by was really friendly and a welcome smiling face who kept me company and entertained. She’s another one of the good ones. The police arrived a lot sooner than expected. I gave a brief written statement which was translated by the hotel staff who had been with me since reporting. It took a while and I was tired and emotionally closed. It wasn’t until the end, an hour or two later, that I realised that grabby McFuckface was still there and had been held by security. He was brought into the lobby alcove where I’d been interviewed. I was released and told to go to my room and not leave until called for. So I spent about 3 hours tidying, sewing and doing other things to occupy my hands and mind. Not knowing if I could change for bed or anything. Having totally missed my chance to go relax in the spa as originally planned, not being able to relax but eventually drifting off from exhaustion. Having finally made the decision to prepare for bed I got a call saying that they didn’t need me again that night. But they did want me to go with them to the courthouse at 9am the next day. *Le sigh*

I informed my tour guide that I wouldn’t be able to make our second planned trip and could I reschedule. He phoned me to see if I was okay and offer to help. As I didn’t know what was going to happen I agreed to keep him updated and to try and get my travel agency to handle the driver hire etc (no response from them by the way) and exhausted I went to bed for another night of horrible disturbed sleep. Where the emotions began to reconnect, where my subconscious pulled and made connections with past experiences, where the dread of what I had agreed to began to sink in. I’d been told that Mr grabby was going to prison for 7 years……

Fuck. Wow. Ummmmmmm, okay. That’s more than I expected, I hadn’t know what to expect, but that… It shocked me. Especially when I think about all the abusive predators back home who walk freely after much more violent incidents. Apparently they really were taking it seriously. Even if they weren’t taking me terribly seriously but that’s another matter. Actually it’s not, it’s all the same thing but grabby was now on the wrong side of the law and subject to its penalties. The police were 100% focused on getting details that they could use to prosecute him, they barely acknowledged me, showed me zero compassion or care and had some laughs at my expense. Not a great feeling but it all being in Arabic meant that I could avoid opening my big feminist mouth. Which would have agravated my situation, as would pushing grabby out of the boat as I considered doing! I was and am pleased with myself for staying out of trouble despite my core beliefs being trampled on.

Exhausted and emotional the next morning was a scramble of trying to rearrange the tour, and my transfer time the following day so I could actually go on the tour, and my checkout time etc before going to the police.
Who treated me with less respect that the officers who’d come out the night before. I was asked to give my story again, in detail. Then got frustrated responses from them when I actually tried to give a full account. Turns out that nobody was interested in the full story, just the juicy bits. The language barrier was obviously an issue, And I know things were getting confused in the translation, adding get to their frustration. No body introduced themselves to me, they barely even looked in my direction until they wanted me to speak. A long time sat in a grotty large office room with a self important man in a suit sat behind a desk and a succession of other men coming and going, occasionally sitting at the desk too. I was sat on a sofa placed lengthways against the wall, with the two hotel staff on the same side and some bloke opposite. I was asked to give a full account but pushed to rush through it. And the staff were giving their version. Them translating for me too. We were there for ages and I got so tired. People coming and going, scared they would bring in Mr grabby and somewhat frustrated that I could not give a proper acount of what happened.

By the way, smoking is a national pass time in Egypt though either women are expected not to do so or there was some protocol about not offering cigarettes to claimants. Not that I wanted a ciggy really but seriously they were arguing over giving each other fags and never once offered one to me. Rude. There’s also ZERO victim care, beyond offering tea or coffee during the many drinks rounds I was offered nothing in terms of support, care, assistance etc. The hotel staff were the only ones giving any kind of support. I was just a thing , sat there to give information they needed to prosecute that man. Which brings me on to the next bit, and a new room.

Another long grotty room with well worn but still comfortable furniture. A long desk on one side next to it an armchair then a desk placed across the room. Beside that another desk then coming around to opposite the first desk. Along the wall more sofas, where we were led to, I was told that this man was going to take details about the incident. At the main desk was another suited contemptuous dude, with him his casually dressed sidekick who was doing lots of writing. Again I was told to give full detail only to find out that they didn’t really want it. The lady from the hotel gave her account signed the statement and left. Leaving me with a room full of Egyptian men. After a while someone turned up and introduced them self as my translator. At some point the main police officer from the night before arrived and sat in the armchair opposite. And a boy in a suit who looked about 15 came to occupy the farther desk, presumably to pretend to work on unrelated stuff.
I continued with my telling, the translator struggling with some things and the remaining hotel employee jumping in to help him. All the time people are coming and going and cigarettes being passed around. When the translator was obviously repeated back what suit-face was saying it clicked that he was giving an oath.
Then I was asked to swear to god that I was telling the truth. Turns out there is no non religious version of the oath in Egypt. I offered to swear to Maat, that went over the translators head. I ended up just saying I swear I’m telling the truth. Mr suit-face was obviously frustrated at me, I was apparently taking too long. He had somewhere to be or something, I don’t fucking know it seemed only the two spoke any English and my Arabic terrible. But he was expressing lots of frustration at me. And clearly having laughs at my expense. Then suddenly he got really flustered got up and grabbed his suit jacket back on and was shouting about something to another random person.
The translator asked me if I had someone in the city to help guide me. I said no, of course. Again no idea what was going on, it looked like suit-face was about to leave, in a huff.

Then. then in walks my tour guide. He had tracked us down and come to help. OMG I was so pleased to see him. And so very grateful that he volunteered to help. He’d offered to help but all I could think of was as a character witness, which also doesn’t seem to be a thing here. He obviously has a better knowledge of the system and knew that I’d need help, and turned up. Saying that he couldn’t leave me. He stepped in to do most of the translation, and seemed disturbed by what he was translating. But he had come to help because he liked me and thought I’m a nice person and I needed help. And he came and helped because he’s a nice person.

Anyway, after lots of confusion and going back and forth, and some specific questions, and him not accepting my statement and arguing over specifics. Apparently accuracy is not important, more binary answers were expected. But eventually we got to the bit where I signed the statement. Which of course I had no idea what it said. The men all shook hands and said good byes, I was ignored by all except the policeman who nodded at me.
We were rushed out and in the confusion got separated from my tour guide. We also got stopped by a group who were being very insistent about something, the hotel guy shut that down, grabbed my arm (nicely) and he and the translator flanked me and led me downstairs and out. Saying on the way that Mr grabby wanted to meet me and make some sort of reconciliation. The thought of that made me shiver and I doubled down on the getting the fuck out of there.

It wasn’t until back at the hotel that I finally found out that suit-face is a Colonel….! That explained a lot. And they weren’t exaggerating when they’d said this was being taken very seriously. Slowly over the whole thing I put the clues together. The day after the incident with the boat, I was at court giving my testimony against my attempted rapist. The next fucking day. Court. This was not a police statement as I had believed, this was a fucking court case. And Mr grabby was going down for 7 years. Less than 24hrs later.

The contrast is staggering. Back home victim support is generally good and they say all the right things then fuck off and do nothing. Here, I was a piece of meat with a story to tell and they acted on it, immediately!

And OMG was I tired.

But as soon as I could I was in the gym, sadly no punching bag but at least there were weights and a spectacular view of the nile. Even if I was overlooking the area that Mr grabby had taken me. And had to walk past his colleagues to get there. Though that actual helped to not let me create a fear wall as I had to face it. Not that they even glanced in my direction that I could tell.

The hotel offered me a free meal and gave me a fruit basket, but also took advantage of my tired state and got me to sign that release. The GM came down to talk to me and offer whatever help they could. Turns out that the manager who was delegated to help me doesn’t actually want to help me and has since told me to essentially go sort stuff myself. The same one that was so eager for me to sign that form. I feel a letter coming on regarding that.

It’s been a few days now, I’m less anxious about his family tracking me down here. But still angry. I do not like the resort I’m at now but it does have a punching bag which I went to town on this morning! Fuck that was needed. I finally got some sleep for the first time since I got here, again very needed. And 2 days doing gym stuff, and having a swim in the red sea and doing some reading, all of which are what I came here for. I’m still not “right” still dealing with ptsd and anxiety and am not able to relax in this circus of a resort. But I am feeling better, and starting to process what happened.

I think I am actually going to pray, to Maat. I’m so tired I can’t think clearly. I am going to ask her for guidance.
I need to feel okay with him paying for his crime. It’s silly, and a hangover from the internalised misogyny and rape culture.
I am asking myself, am I letting him pay for what others did to me? Others who got away with it. I was happy at the Karma of him setting the boat on fire. And maybe that would have been enough, but then maybe once it all sunk it I might have regretted not taking it further.
Being excluded from what was happening legally meant that my decision was not an informed one. FFS, I didn’t even know that I was in an actual court hearing until I figured out that my translator was repeating back whatever the man in the suit behind the desk was saying. I thought, oh shit, that’s an oath. I kinda made my oath to Maat though they didn’t get it.
I didn’t know what the fuck was happening, I didn’t know that I was “giving evidence” to a big wig Colonel. And I’m glad of that as otherwise I may have been intimidated and not treated him with the mild contempt that he clearly deserved!

With people, all men thus far, commenting on what I “should ” have done compounding my own internalised fears and doubts about what I did wrong. Which by the way was NOTHING. Yes there are things I could have done differently, some of which would have landed me in a whole heap of trouble with the law, had I say… pushed him off the boat. Which I did consider. But no I did nothing wrong, and his relatives turning up at the hotel wanting me to sign something to get him released and free it putting horrendous pressure on me to relent. Thankfully I was out. But I’m afraid they will track me down. That fear is very slowly easing, but im jumpy and anxious.

Still not sleeping. Though i am creating a routine, reading, swimming, gym, lunch. Then stuff.


All inclusive?

For the first time i am staying in an inclusive resort abroad. Ive done things like butlins, for a short trip usually for a music festival and we go offsite to visit beach or go for a walk.

This, this is just weird! It didnt occur to me that’s what i was booking. Without previous experience it just didnt come to mind and i find that i don’t particularly like it. Though this is the bulk of my holiday…. my time to relax and recuperate after a horrific couple of years. My treat, my first holiday abroad in donkeys and a chance to let go of the stresses of home life.

Its noisy here, there are screaming kids all over the place, my room in within the noise bleed of the nightly “disco” and so far the guests here are insular and unfriendly. And theres the reps trying to get sales, jesus fucking christ Im on Holiday. FUCK OFF.

So….. Im going to request a room change to somewhere quieter. Ill continue working on the missing blog post in an attempt to get some peace of mind, and i will try to figure out how to make the most of this bizarre way of holidaying.

Eventually I’ll go book some scuba diving, after all that was the whole reason for coming here! Thouhgh as cairo wss so horrendously expensive i dont have much money left from the massive amount i had put aside for diving. Right now i dont feel like doing it, depression is pulling me down and making me apathetic. So I’ll work on processing the incident, until then i dont feel like I can relax at all.

What does all inclusive actually mean to me? Sterile, lack lustre, uncultured, xenophobic, fearful and oh so fake. Where’s the exploration and inclusion of local culture? The desire to go do something other than becominga lobster by the pool? I mean, the sea is RIGHT THERE! The activities provided for adults are generic and lame to account for all the different types of people who stay. It doesnt include any sense of community or family. For me, where I imagine the majority of people here like the closed-off-ness, i find it claustrophobic. I’ve not yet found a way to make new friends, but to be fair ive only been here 2 days so theres still a chance.

God this place is weird, or did i say that already. ..


The post from a couple of days ago is still under construction, I have much to process and many things to come to terms with. For now, I shall just refer to the unfortunate incident with the boat. (Some of you may already know to what I refer)

I am in Egypt! At the moment in a mini bus about to drive across the desert from Luxor to Hurgada. Occasionally looking up to apreacuate the green before it all becomes sand. I arrived in Cairo a week ago, it was frenetic and to be honest I was glad to leave after 4 days of bonkers traffic, harassment and Everyone trying to fleece me. It was so much more expensive than I expected and I met few GENUINELY kind people. The school age kids were nice, fascinated by me so many wanting to take photos with me. I said yes a couple of times, it was kinda funny being in the museum of antiquities and being more of an attraction to them than the actual installations!

I didn’t get to see much of the city and non of the old city, I would tolerate Cairo again to see that stuff but I’m certainly not going to apply to be a teacher there, as was suggested by my tour guide!
At the end of my stay there having been deposited at the train station I felt so ashamed of my wealth in comparison to the locals there. I stood out because of my apearance but bloody hell I really want to learn to travel light. Might as well have packed the kitchen sink!
It was nice to speak briefly to an English couple, I’d been there 4 days compared to their 1 so was way more seasoned in the ways of Cairo! But it was nice to hear their accents, it was comforting for this nest bunny with a wander lust.

The sleeper train was glorious, that I would do again. It was an old, probably all mod cons in the 80’s, plastic-y, horrible toilet, dirty windows, could do with a referb kind of train. And I didn’t care. I was on my first sleeper train and loving it!!! It was a relief to be getting out of Cairo and though I didn’t sleep much (I’ve not slept much at all since before getting here) but it was so comforting. The sounds and feel of that old train, like they used to be when I was a kid, when I felt comforted by them. And I saw my first starts away from the pollution of the city.

Immediately upon my arrival in Luxor I was much more relaxed. Exhausted but calmer. I’ve had a whirlwind stay which was completed by “the incident” thus destroying much of my relaxation. I have however had a very pleasant time either side of that. I had a lovely tour guide showing my Karnak and Luxor Temples, and this morning we visited the valley of the Kings, I paid the extra to go into kv62 Tutankamuns tomb, because that’s what started it all. That children’s book I was given that sparked a love for Ancient Egypt. And finally I am here. I saw some tombs with my own eyes, mere centimetres away. The beauty, the colours, the sheer scale of it all. I walked around Hatshepsuts temple and felt emotional leaving as though something was tugging at me to stay.

I did not feel that way about Cairo but here, despite the incident, I am more comfortable. There’s a Polish settlement doing excavation and restoration work at that temple, I could blag my way in there and go live/work in the desert. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe the emotional upheaval of the last couple of days due to you (dont) know what. Maybe there was sand in my eye, but I felt a little moist in the eyes!

Got any tips?

I’ll keep this brief and stay away from detail for now.

I am really REALLY struggling to FEEL a reason to stay alive. There are short moments where things are okayish. The situation at home is overwhelming and very slow moving. It’s taking so much time and spoons that I periodically fantasise about setting fire to it and walking away.

I also think in detail about how to die.

I know there are some people that would be upset if I died. Though I can’t understand why. In the past that’s been a strong deterrent to suicide. But it’s losing its power, and I can’t find another pull to keep me motivated.

If you have a suggestion please make it. I may not be able to respond so thank you in advance. It’s quite likely that I’ve already tried it but hell, what have I got to lose? (I’d laugh at that sick joke if I had anything in me to do so) For the sake of my sister and a handful of friends there has to be a way. Trouble is I can’t keep on keeping on for the sake of other people and their feelings, there needs to be something for me.

Don’t judge Me for Your issues

My mental health problems are not a choice. And I fucking wish that ALL healthcare professionals would get that into their obstinate minds. I’d love to make some beautifully worded well thought out piece on being stigmatised and mistreated, but I’m too damn angry and questioning my lousy existence so you get a rant instead…
Being told firmly that actually it is, has been so dangerous to my health and desire to live, and when I end up crying in frustration then I end up being labelled as noncooperative, beyond help and all too often refused treatment. Because Im supposedly the one that’s not listening, the one that’s not understanding, that’s refusing to work with the “professional”
Of course it’s never the fact that they’re clearly either talking out of their arse or are just being a prejudiced prick. It’s never because they’ve not been educated about basic mental health conditions. It’s never because they have their own internalised fears or beliefs.
Now obviously it’s impossible for everyone to have a comprehensive understanding of every ailment. But it’s not impossible to teach a basic understanding of health issues that are so very prevalent. Issues that affect a massive proportion of clients either acutely or chronically.
We need to move away from super specialised areas in which any thought outside of that training is rejected because it doesn’t fit the text book answers. More holistic health thinking must be adopted by more practitioners, BECAUSE ILLNESS DOES NOT HAPPEN IN ISOLATION.
More flexibility needs to be adopted by professionals and not just forced into patients, BECAUSE ILLNESS DOES NOT HAPPEN IN ISOLATION.

What works for one person won’t work for everyone BECAUSE ILLNESS DOES NOT HAPPEN IN ISOLATION.

It’s way beyond time that those who are treating patients actually TRUST them. Some of us have spent more than half their lifetime examining and adjusting our lifestyle, engaging with therapies of all descriptions. And even if someone hasn’t been as introspective or through as much medical nonsense as myself, they STILL DESERVE RESPECT. Fucking believe them when they’re talking about themselves and describing something outside of your experience. Believe them when they tell you what things are like for them. DO NOT vehemently opposed us, DO NOT tell us that we are wrong about OUR LIVED EXPERIENCE.
And for the love of all things ever in the existence of the universe DO NOT SHAME SOMEONE FOR THEIR HEALTH ISSUES. Doubly so when doing it to gain a foot up, to put us in our place, to shirk your responsibility to Me. (I’m coming for you bitch)
You, who are paid to do a job, a job that involves providing me with a particular type of care. Can go fuck yourselves when you treat me like an ignorant annoyance simply because I am asking for the service you’re supposed to provide. You can burn for eternity when you put your own laziness and profit before ANYONE who has the misfortune to rely on you for care.
How dare you shame anyone for any reason. Have they stopped teaching compassion and understanding in medical school? Why has your greed and own personal reluctance to yeald to any criticism overtaken your duty of care?
You don’t shame me for my PFD and resultant incontinence even though that’s something that is “shameful”. You don’t shame me for my Tourette’s (much) You don’t shame me for the major surgery to remove a cyst. You don’t shame me for my allergies. And yet some of those things I have a fair amount of control over.

But you think it’s okay to dispute, shame and humiliate me and thousands of others for what is simply another health issue. One that is being treated and managed as well as all the others.

And before you come at me with your Oh but… arguments. Yes, I can, and do, influence all of the above. I’m fully fucking aware of my agency in my health. I’m also fucking fed up with ignorant fucking arseholes shitting on me because I, by my very existence, dare to contradict your fucking bullshit attitudes towards mental health problems.


Being prejudged against is horrible. Being disbelieved is horrible. Being blamed for things out of my control is fucking annoying. Being harassed and bullied is horrible. Being accused of things I haven’t done is horrible. Having my sleep, my peace, my space disturbed, invaded and under constant scrutiny is horrible.
Being accused of being unreasonable when I’m just being assertive and trying to look after myself is a fucking trope that will never seem to go away. Asking for help and getting spoken down to is horrible.
Feeling persecuted again, and badly supported. Demoralised, fed up
Every time I close my eyes I see myself cutting my arms open from wrist to elbow. I fight urges to hack off my hair, precisely because I’ve put a lot of effort and determination into growing it long. I have almost zero patience. Almost pushed over some random person yesterday bacuse they were in my way. I snap at strangers when they state the bleedin obvious or demand my attention for anything other than genuine safety issues.
I put my outside face on because that’s what I do. I lock myself in my flat, alone, not talking to anyone that isn’t some professional that I’m required to interact with for some reason. Because thats what i do. Compulsive shopping and forced eating, because thats what I do. I can see everything that I am doing thats not helping me, and its a slow motion view of an impending car crash. Wondering if I can safely apply the brakes before I destroy everything.
Not knowing what to do with myself. Going round in mental circles, stuck in the shit. Absolutely ready to give up and wondering what is the best way to commit suicide.
Having visions of taking violent revenge on those who have been harassing and bullying me for years, because those that should be ensuring that I am safe are flatly refusing to help.
Rage burning a hole in my chest with old memories being churned in with new incidents. Stomach acid pouring up to my throat. Ribs tightening and tightening. Heart erratic and pounding. Nausea and dizziness washing over in waves .
How did it get this bad? Why am I so fucking stuck? I know the probable answers, and resolutions, to these questions. But its all too overwhelming. I have been caught in a constant landscape of years of having to defend myself against unfair attacks, of not being able to rest or recharge my spoons in my own home. All while going through mental and physical therapies which have demanded near all of the spoons that I have. Its been such a grind that I really have almost nothing left to give. I am at the point of breaking. Everything is a struggle, I am spending more time running away, again both mentally and physically.  Constantly trying to push myself out of this self imposed isolation. Pushing my body past its limits, to the point that I am in incredible pain almost all the time. Which after finally getting some reasonable pain management going is such a depressing thing in itself, not just the draining pain but the drain of having to tolerate it again.  Wanting to stab near every person that I encounter. Despirately hoping that those with the power to help me would just actually listen to me and stop making judments against me without bothering to even talk to me. Or that they would stop simply denying everything I say and actually do the right thing, do their fucking job, and help me.
Right now i have little emotional connection to any reason that I should continue with this shitty life beyond not leaving my sister to have to literally clean up the mess I leave behind in this flat. Plenty of logical reasons, but i dont care about those. They’re utterly fucking pointless while I am stuck in this pit.