This is a merge of my 'Wanderer' blog that tells of two years of my three years on the streets, and a new blog that tells of my life after the Diocese of Winchester ripped through my life for for the last few years on top of the previous serious harm that left me homeless
This is a day to day blog of my life as I continue to survive, work on recovery and on the social problems that I have and try to come to terms with limitless traumas I have survived along the way.
This blog is in tandem with my blog about my experiences in the Church of England

The former name of this blog and the name of it's sister blog are to do with my sense of humour, which I hope to keep to the end, which appears to be ever more rapidly approaching. At least I laughed, and I laughed at the people who were destroying me. Don't forget that.

Here are my books, which I wrote for you if you would like to know more:

Friday, 12 October 2012

I went to the dentist again, it was a bit of a nightmare, she couldn't get my name right, which always annoys me when professionals are like that. And she was very unclear indeed on what she wanted me to do, and she kept telling me to breathe through my nose and then through my mouth, which doesn't work, I have never been able to breathe on instruction and my nasal passagesare so small that I cannot take in enough air that way, so I was struggling to breathe.

But the worst bit was trying to follow her instructions and when she tried to take a mold she shoved the guard in my mouth and it was agony on the sore areas by my wisdom teeth, it was simply too much for me.
I am not going to have any more dental treatment. I dont need it, that tooth has been broken for 10 years and she has been my dentist for long enough without trying to mend it.

I went to the homeless lunch, I used to call it my weekly dose of depression, it is packed out today and is depressing, though the lovely staff try to make a fuss of me. I am not in the mood for fuss, I would rather be with a friend and find things to laugh about to lift the horrendous depression.

After I leave the lunch I feel sad that I cannot go to the gallery, I walk down to poundland and get a wooly hat for night time and some toiletries and some new foam pads, I need foam pads for my feet even though I have special orthotics, otherwise my feet have too much strain and they hurt.

I think part of the depression is what I have been remembering in the writing of the book, and part is the gallery closing, part is being indoors too much and this is triggering memories all the time and distressing me, and part is being here in this crowded town where people don't know about personal space or politeness, but I have very little money this week and no idea where to go.

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