Part 3… Chapter 9… Mental Overload…

The first page in a new diary. The formation of words is like the formation of stars in the galaxy above. Initially it’s the slow process of energy always produced by a mass of thoughts, which migrate then disappear just like a burnt out star.

A smooth surface ready for self-expression. There right in front of you, a great empty space willing you on with ink in hand, to just let it all out. Set your mind free.

They say a picture tells a thousand words. I have yet to come across similar quotes about diary writing. A diary tells a thousand truths, secrets, mysteries and inner glimpses into one’s personal thoughts and perceptions. Honesty not to be shared, and pure human time out with oneself.
​
I haven’t been in the right head space to write of late. It’s been more of a sponging of all the information my eyes are examining at home and what my thinking is making of it all.

---

​It’s a time of frustration. My inside demon is out and has started to voice its unhappiness.
I need to shake this cloud, this heavy weather my partner has been filling my living space with. 

From the moment I came home in a wheelchair he took on the role of my carer without me asking. I’m not saying it’s been easy for him but we got a routine going. Or should I say ‘I had' a routine going. Until our nebular was knocked about in the solar system which left us in its own mass of dense cloud. Which path its gravitational pull rotates us onto is anyone’s guess. 
​
I'm fed up of it all now. 

​Neglect has started to show in his care for me and our situation. It’s been just as hard for me having him help wash me, dress me, cook for me, clean the house, work shifts etc.

​I don’t want to sound negative about him but what he’s doing for me is nothing a mother doesn’t do every day bringing up her family. Us women wipe everybody's fuking arse lol.
​
He hasn’t shaved in god knows how long and the same goes for a decent shower.

​His personal hygiene is just as stale as the house work. When he was out the other day I took it upon myself to go on a little house investigation. To my horror and disbelief I was outraged with his way of not keeping the house in order.

A fuking disgrace.

I looked in the fridge to find fresh produce on top of gone off fungal infested, decomposing decay.
If I could smell, it was probably fuking rank. In fact, with the disorganised and dirty state the house is in now I feel so much anger raging inside me. 

What the fuk is this?

If he’s falling he can fall alone.

What the fuk has he been feeding me? OMG!!!!

I took a black bag and threw a fridge full of food into it. I am sooo not impressed with him. When he arrived home later I went ballistic.

He’s losing himself in the here and now. I know now that I lost him a long time ago. I don’t know why. I just know I did.

He was in the utility room today making himself useful while I sat in my chair in the kitchen. Looking over at him I remembered how he reacted to my friends question the other week. He's starting to repulse me. 

I asked him why did he speak the way he had and then run away to hide upstairs? The same old blar, blar of bollocks spewed from his snake infested vocabulary.

I stared at him with a hold I couldn’t even blink away as I calmly but in a harsh tone gently roared out the niggle I’ve been carrying inside my head for some time.

‘You did this to me! You done it!?'

He stood as straight as steel staring back at me. Not a word was spoken in response. Not one fuking word. There was silence between us once again.
​
I said sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was blurred out unfocused and obscure. I don’t know why. I don’t know the why's about anything anymore…

October 17th’ 2008. I have been in hospital for more surgery. This time it was to do with the bladder. I got fed up with peeing every 5 minutes and having the catheter plugged up the pee hole wasn’t the best.

So, I’ve opted for the Suprapubic Catheter which has been inserted from the top of the abdomen straight through into the bladder. A much easier solution which needs to be changed every month.

2008 has been unbalanced on many, many things. Happiness. Motivation. Inspiration. Sex, but most of all Unbalanced Understandings. I haven’t changed in my personality I know who I am. I’m the same old Amanda, but in a fuked up body.

My heart and soul are still in tacked. It’s just the vehicle I get around in has changed from legs to wheels, and a dam fine set of wheels they are.

Back in April this year I put in a claim with the Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority (CICA). Being represented by a company called Napthens. After months of gathering and sending all the hospital and police reports needed. I’ve sat anxiously awaiting in my chair for a tribunal date. A letter finally found its way to my address with news I was not expecting...