Post #192 - Reach Out ... Be Rejected?

Now, I cannot recall whether I said that I used to be a member of the local branch of a national mental health charity's online regular quiz, music and general chat sessions?  Well, I was, but I won't name the charity in question because it'll be outing.  I left it because I got fed up with certain members' actions within the group, became bored with moaning about it to management and quite frankly, I think that I'm ready to be released back into the wild.  My bipolar and autism dual diagnosis doesn't seem to cope well with too much contact with other people with mental health problems nor others with autism.  That said, I do have a couple of excellent friends who have MH issues and we understand one another very well and I'd never abandon them, but I know them IRL and they've both known me for way over a decade.  I am a spiky person - like those darn spiny things on Mario:

There was one woman, let's call her Shaz, whom was a long-time member of the quiz group and who later on joined the music appreciation sessisons.  I really liked her and we had bantz - although it was an online group and we'd never actually met in person.  Until her recent retirement she was working, although thinking back, she might have been a permanent homeworker, but who can tell these days?  The morning session of the time before Easter that I decided to leave altogether, which wasn't a particularly nice day as the Police turned up on my doorstep following my report of sexual assault (see earlier posts ...) I offered her a book my son was gifted once on the Titanic as this is one of Shaz's  passions - she had various framed photographs and diagrams of the doomed vessel hanging on the walls of her flat.  Now I think about it ... MH problems?  Special interests?  I think that you know what I'm inferring but I won't say it ...

I passed on my deets (as the kids say) via the group leader and received a call a few days later (which I missed because I was napping).  This led to a text exchange which wasn't hugely friendly as Shaz stated that due to her physical disability she was unable to leave the house and that if I left the book in the charity's offices, her husband would pick it up.  I agreed but felt a bit, well, cheated.  I was kind of hoping that we could meet for a quick coffee but clearly she didn't want this.  When I dropped the book off this morning even the charity's receptionist seemed surprised at Shaz's rather odd behaviour, also believing that meeting up for a coffee and chat would have been much better than this rather strange way of operating.  I then WhatsApped Shaz to confirm that I've dropped the book off and then blocked her.  I know this sounds a bit odd, but if that's the way she is then I don't need or wish for any more contact as I don't want to start a row.  

Things will be better once I'm back at work as I'll just go to work, come home, contact my existing friends and then concentrate on my son.  That's the way it is.  

Post #191 - I don't even want to host my husband's belated wake ...

 ... well, I don't.  It would have taken place on a day next week which would have been his sixty-fourth birthday.  I just cannot bring myself to clean this house and prepare it for people to visit - I know that it's only really close family but I don't even really want them here if truth be told.  We would have scattered some of the ashes in one of the Royal Parks and the rest in a ruined abbey but there are so many of them that I've decided to scatter a flaskfull in each location and then either bury the rest in our back garden or line ceramic pots with them and grow nice plants on top.  

Why?  Well, that farrago that was Easter Sunday still rankles with me and I've got the grazed finger joints on my right hand to prove it.  One of the sofas is in the front sitting room and the other is in what I've called the laundry lounge - ie Master Logic's space, formerly used as the dining room/laundry/gym/art studio.  Actually, what is the point of dining rooms in today's modern world?  Surely they hark back to a time when families used to eat together, something we never do and totally alien to Master Logic's strange autistic world.   

Post #190 - Victim Impact Statement

My sexual assault case is NFA which means 'No Further Action' which is fine by me.  I was advised by the PC who visited me this morning to contact Victim Support to submit a Victim Impact Statement, which I will do tomorrow.  Apparently Victim Support have been attempting to contact me, but as my voicemail has been off because of all of the hassle I was receiving from Camden Council regarding my late husband's brother's issues.  

Anyway, this is where that particular thing ends.  It's also the conclusion of my involvement as a volunteer with the Friends [environmental] group.  As two of my reports to the Police were directly related to there, I think that I can conclude that it's a pernicious place and I'm not suited to being there in an official or semi-official capacity.  I was never one of the chosen ones anway and despite having a BA in Medieval and Early Modern History, my expertise was never welcomed nor utilised.  

*Update*

 Victim Support referred me to a charity called the London Survivor's Gateway.  I tried phoning them and ended up in a huge queue.  It was painful holding on, so I eventually hung up.  There was no email address earlier so I left it there.  Clearly such charities are overwhelmed and my case just didn't seem worthy enough.  

Post #189 - Easter 2024

Yesterday I visited my parents, having cooked a splendid (even if I say so myself!) toad in the hole and a Bird's trifle in a box.  Clearly my recent bereavement has made me even more arsey, but my temper is very short these days.  Arranging the day was a pain in the arse - apparently I must be as explicit as possible in regard to planning my visits(!)  Dad picked me up and helped me pack all of the food up but hey, as soon as we arrived my brother and his over-enthusiastic golden retriever, Honey, were there and if you know that breed then you'll no doubt be aware that they're very bouncy indeed and we almost dropped the trifle as a result.  My brother is very like his canine housemate in so many years, despite being in his mid-late forties at time of writing.  

It was the usual festival of odd chez parents.  We were just finishing our lunchtime meal (aforementioned toad-in-the-hole, boiled frozen veg, watery gravy ...) when my brother rang the landline, suggesting a trip out to the largest park in the borough.  As you might already be aware, my mother's mobility is seriously compromised by her balance and resulting lack of confidence in walking.  Look - it was hideous - it was horribly muddy due to all of the recent rainfall, my mother had a hiking pole in one hand and my stepfather's paw in the other - all of the time the family (consisting, additionally of my brother, sister-in-law and two teen nieces)  So - we decided to move both cars and head for the nearest road, which meant covering a huge boggy area.  My mother struggled, my brother offered to give her a piggy back(!) and I fell over and then gave them both a piece of my mind.  I then escaped, walked to the nearest exit and was picked up in my stepfather's car - I said to my eldest niece "your father's a complete idiot!"  Harsh, but fair.

My stepfather later told me that we should have gone to a much more suitable park with a nearby car park and proper concrete paths.  He, as ever, was absolutely correct.  

Post #188 - Mea Culpa

OK, yes, I was wrong ... but let's admit it, WhatsApp group are tricky, right? Especially when there are no rules to comprehend. I suppose that common decency is paramount? Anyway, I'm back in the fold, so to speak.

This afternoon's survey was fine and I was finally able to discover the woman's name who so upset me back in January. What an officious person she was. 

Post #187 - Volunteering: Don't Do It!

I'll start by saying that there are clearly a whole bunch of absolutely lovely members of the Baby Boom generation out there, but - I seem to constantly butting heads with them. My mother is a Boomer, which explains a great deal. Many of them seem to have extremely fixed ideas when it comes to autism or disability - my advice is never to shop at M&S unless you want your neurodiverse child/young person shouted at.

During my now eight year hiatus from work I have made various attempts to join clubs and societies. Unfortunately I am not of retirement age and this cases a major problem for some of them. The latest case was yesterday when I went along to the second-hand book hut(!?) to talk members of the Borough's premier park about helping them expand their existing (IMHO: poor) social media presence. I had alway attended their last meeting but found the septegenerian Chair very imperious, brusque and rude to another member. 

One of the members had already failed to ask me whether I'd wanted a coffee and the others looked askance when i pulled out a plastic chair to sit on, so maybe that was also a bad omen. When I raised how well the Instagram platform was working in another Friends group, The Chair shouted "STOP!" loudly at me. Apparently that's acceptable because, and I quote: "she used to be a teacher!" Excuse me!  I picked up my bag and fled in tears.

I immediately found a bench and started off firing off emails/Xs of complaint. I wrote some comments on their Facebook page too, ditto a one star review. One email was to the Borough's main complaints address as all Friends groups sit under the Council's parks department.

I raised it on the other Friends group I'm a member of which sits in the North of the Borough but one woman, whom I'd found to be incredibly rude to me in the past tried to police the group, so I came right back at her and left that group too.

I am now ploughing my own fallow.

Post #186 - The Bully Dog Incident

On Tuesday, 19th September 2023 I experienced an awful incident during a volunteering session at one of my local parks. A group of us were tending the rhododendron beds which are located a fair distance away from the park lodge; there were four men aged between sixty-five and seventy-one plus myself, the only woman. It was during the lead up to the XL Bully Dog legislation.

At about 10:45ish two light skinned mixed race guys plus a young child of about five or six years of age approached us with a juvenile puppy Bully XL dog on a lead. They were apparently "touring the local parks to show people what nice dogs they were really." At first one of the gentlemen in our volunteer squad, let's call him Steve, went over to pet the huge thing, agreeing, saying that "yes it's the owners, not the dogs - all that kind of bullshit etc." The blokes wouldn't leave. They kept hanging around trying to provoke a reaction. I had been cowering at the back, hoping that they'd piss off, but they wouldn't. Eventually, I blurted out: "I hate those dogs - they're bred for violence."

Cue: absolute mayhem. One of them starts threatening me and my colleagues step in to protect me - I'm literally cowering behind the council branded brown bin. I'm yelling "I'M AUTISTIC!? LEAVE ME ALONE!?" One's filming the whole shebang on his phone, stating that it's going out live on Instagram. The other shouts at me to stop swearing in front of his autistic son, which is rather ironic and quite frankly, why is his son not in school as it was term time.

The Estate Manager, let's call him Dave, turns up and remonstrates with  the men, who by now are accusing me of attempting to attack his dog with a garden fork. Yeah - like I'd do that to a weaponised dog that could literally rip my throat out!?  One of the blokes calls for my dismissal (er, I'm a volunteer!) stating that I am a "disgrace" or suchlike.

I depart, in tears. My would-be groomer, Mr X, drives me home where my husband, Mr C, and son, Master C, are watching TV (my son is off sick from school). Mr X sees my house's interior for the first time - it was untidy and as such, I have always hugely disliked visitors. He later delivers a bunch of flowers. I was supposed to have attended a guided bat walk that very evening, but I get a refund as I'm too distraught to return.

The next day, which was Wednesday, Mr C and me are choosing bathroom flooring in the next town when he receives a call from Dave, the Estate Manager. Apparently eight or so blokes and their Bully XLs have turned up on masse. They are calling for my sacking!? Err ... I don’t work there!? Mr C confirms that I won't be returning and Dave states that it's a shame that he's lost a member of his team. We then drive straight to the Police Station to report the incident as a Hate Crime.

I don't actually return until March 2024, but keep in touch via WhatsApp with Mr X, who really steps up his grooming campaign after Mr C's sudden death on 1/1/24.