This has been my diary; I have taken a kicking for writing it by some and others show love and love always outshines the haters.1 piece of love is worth 100 hates. I found my voice via blogs on My Space a few years back and I am grateful for them. John thinks it is good for me to express myself this way.
Anyway I have never been straight about this because I fear writing it. But I lost my job in August because of my illness. I have lost many jobs because of my illness, but this one hurt the most. I am gagged by lawyers letters so I can not say too much. What hurt was that after an entire life of 'having something wrong' I was dealing with it. Years of therapy never worked until I found John. I am committed to it and have not missed one session in a year. If I was a woman I would have been better supported at work and before a bra is burnt in protest, I do know this to be a fact. A man with chronic depression and bdd is a non person. Men get a very raw deal when it comes to Mental health yet 5 men to 1 woman take their own lives in UK. Fact.
I have always worked, since the age of 16, and it is all I know. Never shirked a hard shift. I have worked 18 hour days in the past. I get my hands dirty and you get your monies worth. But when I needed support it was not there. So at the moment I am finding ways to get me back in the work place because I need it.
I just need someone to give me a chance. It is unfair that I am treated this way but rather than swimming in my own self pity I am doing something about it...I am just waiting for someone to say, yeah you are ok come work for us.
I am at the stage in my therapy where John is setting me challenges; to do the things I would find tough. I went swimming which was massive for me. But he wants me to do this that and the other. It is hard because I have no one there to support me through it and most of these things you will take for granted in your everyday life. Going to a bloody pub is fucking hard work for me. A) you look a complete Billy no mates dick when you are on your own anyway. B) when you really are a billy no mates because an illness has scared everyone off over the years then its even fucking harder.
He wants me to join a book club, go back to school and over come my dyslexia etc. If there was someone there who could shout me some encouragement it would be easier. Having that support and shoulder to lean on.
I can say these days that I am an ok fella...would not have said that in the past. I am an opinionated fucker but that is easily dealt with..tell me to shut up. I do all those things on my own that you want to share....a good film that you can chat about after. Its the fear of being on my own everywhere that locked me away. You notice friends together when out and lovers and all that jazz. It can hurt believe me.
That is why there is so much passion in my poems. It has to come out. I feel humble that anyone likes them and it is places like this that gave me the balls to ever post anything. Dyslexia meant I thought I was shit at everything. Life is lonely but I have my books, cinema and an imagination that would keep a whole street of heads busy. I also know now that I 'think' I can cope with life like this. Thanks for sticking by this miserable cunt. x
T A Roberts March 2011 London
Anyway I have never been straight about this because I fear writing it. But I lost my job in August because of my illness. I have lost many jobs because of my illness, but this one hurt the most. I am gagged by lawyers letters so I can not say too much. What hurt was that after an entire life of 'having something wrong' I was dealing with it. Years of therapy never worked until I found John. I am committed to it and have not missed one session in a year. If I was a woman I would have been better supported at work and before a bra is burnt in protest, I do know this to be a fact. A man with chronic depression and bdd is a non person. Men get a very raw deal when it comes to Mental health yet 5 men to 1 woman take their own lives in UK. Fact.
I have always worked, since the age of 16, and it is all I know. Never shirked a hard shift. I have worked 18 hour days in the past. I get my hands dirty and you get your monies worth. But when I needed support it was not there. So at the moment I am finding ways to get me back in the work place because I need it.
I just need someone to give me a chance. It is unfair that I am treated this way but rather than swimming in my own self pity I am doing something about it...I am just waiting for someone to say, yeah you are ok come work for us.
I am at the stage in my therapy where John is setting me challenges; to do the things I would find tough. I went swimming which was massive for me. But he wants me to do this that and the other. It is hard because I have no one there to support me through it and most of these things you will take for granted in your everyday life. Going to a bloody pub is fucking hard work for me. A) you look a complete Billy no mates dick when you are on your own anyway. B) when you really are a billy no mates because an illness has scared everyone off over the years then its even fucking harder.
He wants me to join a book club, go back to school and over come my dyslexia etc. If there was someone there who could shout me some encouragement it would be easier. Having that support and shoulder to lean on.
I can say these days that I am an ok fella...would not have said that in the past. I am an opinionated fucker but that is easily dealt with..tell me to shut up. I do all those things on my own that you want to share....a good film that you can chat about after. Its the fear of being on my own everywhere that locked me away. You notice friends together when out and lovers and all that jazz. It can hurt believe me.
That is why there is so much passion in my poems. It has to come out. I feel humble that anyone likes them and it is places like this that gave me the balls to ever post anything. Dyslexia meant I thought I was shit at everything. Life is lonely but I have my books, cinema and an imagination that would keep a whole street of heads busy. I also know now that I 'think' I can cope with life like this. Thanks for sticking by this miserable cunt. x
T A Roberts March 2011 London
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