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    Assumptions!

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    I wasn't going to write anything in this blog today, but after speaking with Darrell, will do so!

    Last night, Darrell read my blog, the one about him in particular. He was concerned that people could read something into the words that did not mean what they thought.  I have said I write the truth, as I have done throughout the whole of this blog. There is nothing I would take back, amend or change.  The meaning is for me.  I do not wish to mention people's names, that would not be the right thing to do.  It is a subtle reminder for me, at times when my judgement may be skewed by other people, or indeed the person or people I am writing about.  It is about learning from one's mistakes and moving forward.

    I  have been on this Southampton scene for years, probably about twenty-five in total. I have met many people.  There are a few  I am still friends with, but in all honesty, the vast majority move on, or as we are again doing, they are removed from our life.  They have to be, for our own well-being and to allow us to move forward.  We haven't survived together for twenty years by accepting everyone and considering everyone as lifetime friends, for reasons very clear. They are written throughout this blog.

    Let me first say, that the people in our life currently are just what we need, want and am very happy with, thank you.  All friendships have their up's and down's, but essentially, there is nothing fundamentally wrong with any of the people we associate with.  

    This weekend we saw some 'old friends', people we had not seen for a while.  It made me very happy to have them at my Birthday.  It also made me realise, what they had been through as well as the genuine nature of their visit.  All of us had experienced hell as well as happy times together in the past.  Sadly when you do get hurt, it takes a while to realise, not everyone is that way.  I think we all discovered that.  I have also met some new and honest people, who have been more than generous with their openness of spirit and respectful nature.  I am always happy to meet new faces, I will always be wary, but equally ready to accept!

    My words over the weekend refer to an individual, but as stated, I am not going to mention them by name.  It is not fair on them or those around them.  The clue is in the length of time I have been about in Southampton.  Sadly I have seen people turn into a shadow of their former self.  Their self belief, whilst admirable, is also based on delusion and lies.  

    At this time, I do not need people who are madder than myself.  That would be a ridiculous thing to have around me.  I am on a path of recovery, not the road to ruin.  I know that close relationships with some people are out of the question for my own health, this is one of them.  I suppose, by recognising the insane nature of conversations, and the confused statements of half-truths and added in romantic views of situations that were nothing but, has made me realise I am not as mad, as some people like to make out!

    I have to recognise when people are no longer good for me.  In the past I would have a deluded view, that I could help everyone, I can't.  Some people are beyond help.  Darrell and my self have a duty to keep bad influences away. Oddly we learnt that from two friends in particular, one who stayed with us for a short while and the other who reminds me of 'Matron' in those seventies Carry On films.  Both kept the wolves from the door at a crucial time!  We have to think of us and the next twenty years and hopefully beyond.  We would make a huge mistake, if we allowed demented feet to become comfortable under our table.  The consequences of such misguided acceptance would signal the end for us!

    Read what I say. Don't make assumptions, jump to the wrong conclusions and claim to be the person I am talking about, unless you know.  In all honesty, if I felt this strongly about someone, they would already know, or there would be an ongoing avoidance strategy.
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    Empowerment!

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    When you work for a Charity, you really do understand the meaning of the word EMPOWERMENT.  It becomes a part of your every day language, and you refer to it often, in any number of different scenarios; it is used as commonly as 'the' and 'that.'  I have always been proud to work for a charity that prides itself on empowering others, allowing them to go as far as they are able, without prejudice and victimisation. It is not until you suffer that perceived indignity yourself, that  you finally, without reservation, understand what it really means.

    To empower anyone, is to have belief in them, no matter who they are, despite any disability they may have. Their skin colour or sexuality they were assigned at birth, play no detrimental role in the equal opportunities and rights, they deserve; this allows them to be the person they truly want to be.  It is a strong, open, positive and nurturing word; it is a contract and argument, a resolution and an open invitation, to do your best, for yourself and those who may need a little more help and understanding!

    Throughout my life I have seen many different people bullied, harassed, victimised or treated with contempt, for no other reason, than they are different, unique or judged unsuitable.  Because of my illness, I am covered by The Disability Discrimination Act; that was a shocker for me.  I had technically become disabled overnight, and I didn't like it much! It's alright to label someone else, but when that label falls across your shoulders, you just don't want to accept it!

    So I read the Act, disassociated myself from it and looked at it from someone else's perspective, with a physical disability. Yes you have certain rights, but above all it empowers those who suffer from Mental or Physical illness, the power to achieve everything they wish for; there are no barriers to success!  Suddenly I had become the volunteer with a challenging chronic illness, experiencing their first day in their new job.  I encountered pitfalls and a few minor issues, nothing that could not be sorted. The inbuilt protection in the Act, allowed me to safely negotiate my way around my new work place and have an enjoyable, informative first day!

    That's what the Act offered me, my first day all over again.  Mental illness has the same obstacles to success as Physical illness; I know that now.  I would fight for the rights of all minorities, as I did with Stonewall in the 1990s.  I would protect all of my colleagues whatever their status and above all, I would stand up for anyone I believed to be right.  I support friends and colleagues and have a proven record doing so.  The trouble is, others do not follow my beliefs; no matter, I will still do what is right!

    Stamp out bullying, harassment, victimisation and dishonourable conduct, wherever it is.  You could become disabled overnight, just like me, and you could suffer all the challenges and negativity I could have experienced.  I have great employers, understanding and caring colleagues and that makes my life a little less hard.  

    It makes me want to fight harder and harder for those who need it.  Don't ever ignore discrimination, that makes you no better than those who discriminate!

    Peace and Love!
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    Darrell Martin!

    This is going to be a hard one to right;  I'll do my best to be as honest as possible, because he deserves nothing less.  Darrell was born in Australia, coming from Kalgoorlie, a gold mining town in the desert of Western Australia.  Kalgoorlie isn't the sort of place you really want to grow up gay; it is an oasis of straightness, legalised brothels and Australian, beer drinking men with attitude.  I apologise if I insult anyone from there, I am going by what he told me,

    Darrell was born partly in Kalgoorlie and partly in Perth;  It's a long story, but I read his palms, and that's what it told me.  I met Darrell while he was going out with a friend in 1993, he was on a work visa, doing what Australians do, which is very little in reality. To be honest apart from his sexy Jason Donovan accent, I couldn't stand him.  He was arrogant, just how I imagined Australians to be!

    One thing led to another, and he ended up moving in with myself and my ex partner. Darrell had the role of House Boy for a while and failed miserably, except for the sex part.  Now I need to be diplomatic here -  after a rather unusual meeting of like-minded individuals, Darrell and I fell in love. Yes it was love, nearly at first sight.  

    We had had a heavy evening, and I was probably 'Manic', when I suggested we run away to Australia; it kind of made sense at the time.  So after asking my ex for my passport, we got on the first train out of Southampton, to London, spangled.  We must have spent about three days in London before we left for Australia. Using the insurance money, after Darrell's lung collapsed on a plane over the Middle East, and he was hospitalised in Singapore, we eventually arrived in Perth, some 21 hours later!

    We tried to live in Australia twice, even planning to fake my death, probably 'Manic' again, but it just did not work out. The wildlife, sex-crazed women and dubious accommodation put pay to that in the end; so in 1998 we settled in the UK. In that same year we had a 'Rite of Blessing' at The Quaker Hall in London Road, Southampton, the only thing we could do to recognise our union at the time.  

    We managed to stay together, even with the threat of deportation, after Darrell refused to leave when his visa expired. We hired a Barrister, called for a Judicial Review and our case was even discussed in Parliament. There was no legal basis for our relationship back then, GAYS DIDN'T EXIST, at least ones with foreign partners didn't. He was told to leave the Country and again refused; we used the Legal Process to wait out a change in the law; later in 1998 our de facto relationship was finally recognised. He managed to avoid deportation, just! I think Darrell was granted Indefinite Leave to Remain in the year 2000.  We were the second gay couple in the country to be given legal status, after being beaten to the finish line by a couple of old Lesbians; gutted!

    Darrell and I moved about a bit, living in Lancashire and Salisbury, but never really settled; this was pre Bipolar diagnosis.  Towards the end of 2003 I became quite ill, and had a minor stroke.  We walked away from the business we ran together, in order to preserve my life in reality.  We moved back to Southampton immediately afterwards, where I was put on medication; these were terrible years; every course of medication was failing.  Darrell put up with a lot, as he always has done; nothing was working. However, he continued to work throughout this period, taking no benefits from The State.  He is proud of that, and so he should be!

    Darrell remained working for a coffee shop for about ten years.  If I am honest, he didn't enjoy his time here and slowly became depressed. Eventually he moved onwards, thinking he had changed his life for the better. Of course, as I know now, it was the biggest mistake of his life.

    After harassment, lies, suicide attempts and an association with some of the worst people in my life, we are still together, and we always will be.  Despite people trying to split us up, we love each other, a word they don't even comprehend.  Currently, in the middle of a complete Bipolar Relapse, we are stronger than ever, looking forward to our Marriage and spending time with people we love and care for,  Both of us are sick of the childishness and immaturity, as well as the lies and rumours.  

    I suppose we have got to a stage, where we don't care about the games people play, the emotional blackmail and the disrespect.  Both Darrell and I are welcoming, good people, who deserve better from others, who we have done everything to support and look after.  Today is the day we say goodbye to it, we just can't be bothered to fight this behaviour any more.  Eventually you discover who the real friends are, sometimes it can be a hard battle to fight!
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    Birthday!

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    Last night I reached 44! For me that is an achievement in itself. A nice neat and tidy number, forty-four years I would not change for the World.  All the ups and downs, good times and bad, friends long since gone, old acquaintances and new mates; all part of a learning process, not yet completed.  After all these years, still making the same mistakes; memories of wonderful and not so wonderful times and the Middle age years, that creep up on you so very, very fast.  When you write the number down, it somehow gains more significance, bold, brassy in your face, ringing in the changes of a lifetime and a lament for those lost teenage years, carefree, trouble free and fond occasions with happy endings and meaningless outcomes!

    Most Birthdays pass in the same way - a little bit of depression, nothing out of the ordinary and then get wasted in the evening and let another year pass by, into my  own personal history file of non-events. Most meant very little, apart from a bit of self-indulgent soul-searching and the nervous consumption of two hundred cigarettes or so!

    During my late twenties and throughout my thirties, I used to get terribly upset and down about getting older.  That was the age I truly watched my life flash before me. Grey hair became more than black, worry lines got deeper, the bags became darker and bodily functions become a topic of concern.  Little things, minor ailments, nothing too serious; I used to worry so much about nothing of real importance.

    When one worries about something, that can't be changed, one can read much into ones own manifestations and skewed thoughts.  Things feel worse than they really are! I used to have a worrying nature; I would suffer anguish and distress so much, that it would add extra importance to the very problems I sort to address.  A long period of Bulimia and self harm, purely because of a vicious circle of fear and uncertainty. Part of a self diagnosed list of nothingness, that became something a little more edgy and fear driven!

    My thirties were traumatic with self-induced delusions of old age; yes, unbelievably, old age at thirty.  Looking in a mirror I tried to cover up the lines of my life, the bald patch and the extra chins, slowly settling comfortably into place!  It was a ridiculous attempt to stem the tide of ageing, pre-programmed into us all.  These were merely surface changes, cosmetic, hiding what really is going on.  It made one feel a little less vulnerable, just storing up a multitude of problems for Middle age!

    A period of reflection as another year passes quickly by is healthy.  Huge weight loss, falling to seven stone and rising to eighteen stone in rapid succession, has caused an untold amount of damage.  The pleasure of being awarded Arthritis, height loss and cardiac problems, for the cosmetic pretence of conforming to what others expect,  is a costly price to pay.  A short term fix, that was oh so sexy;  sexy, to whom, certainly not me?

    Reaching forty was a relief, I had no expectations any more; I was able to be who I wanted, Saying and doing what made me happy. There was no pressure from society to be a carbon copy; I couldn't give a damn what people thought.  White hair, lived in face, a gut, man boobs, hairy ears and nose, point-blank I did not give a toss! Who am I kidding, I have a large tide to stem and not enough years to stop it!  Today I am just happy to be alive, have a bit of arthritis and  long faded looks, but a partner to share all the fun caring times ahead; that's a bonus!

    It was lovely to see some real old friends at my 44th last night.  It has after all been a year since we actually reflected on past indiscretions.  Putting the world to rights, we ended popular misconceptions, evident in the minds of those with lives less lived and too much time to think. Reordered and reconfigured,  we helped each other battle through our own rocky roads of self-importance.

    Had the best Birthday in ages, loved seeing everyone, old and new.  Felt loads of love and was left with only happy memories.  It felt ever so grown up, having nothing awful to report, apart from Darrell's sickness and Dales bag of pain and pleasure! Oh, and I laughed a lot; not often that happens.  Thanks to everyone who came and made it special, you are all very special too!
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    The Bare Naked Truth!

    I have always found it difficult to decide just how far to go when writing the truth down.  As this is a public website, I am mindful of the public arena in which it exists. I have grown up a little over the years and do not want to publicly humiliate anyone. Unlike those who seek enjoyment out of others misfortune, I am quite able to firstly humiliate myself and have some self-control over my choice of words, names and other telling clues.  I am better than those who take enjoyment out of hurting others as a pastime, when they have run out of productive things to do!

    Most importantly, anything I write does not contain real names; as long as I understand who they are, that is all that matters. I am sure those who read this stuff understand their place in this blog. Understanding is the key;  I am still fighting an illness bought on by circumstances and people using their own basic understanding, of human nature.  They lie, lie and lie again to protect themselves, although  I'm not quite sure from what, maybe themselves or others on their 'to-do list.'  Well guess what, I can write;  I can write faster than they have time to make up more drivel and bugger me, I have lots to say!

    The nature of a blog is to write one's thoughts, feelings and words down in a raw form. I publish as I write, so it isn't perfect, but it has far more meaning that way.  Raw passionate writing with a message.  The message is to remind me to do better next time and has no relevance to those  I write about. They probably would not understand anyway and can barely string a sentence together, let alone know what grammar and punctuation is.

    I have a blog because Facebook decided to remain banal and trivial; that's fine.  It has become a playground for Sunday dinners, selfies and shared news.  It has a large audience and is ideal to publish links to a blog, but that is all.  Mindless pap; but for all its faults, it helps one keep in contact with friends and loved ones, so all good!

    Writing is something you either love or hate, and I love it.  Unlike school children today, I had a good education, was taught properly, went on to further and higher education and somehow managed to scrape through, despite all the influences, life throws your way.  I suspect my later years could be marred with a degree of senility and loss of faculties at various different stages, so  I want records of times I forget through medication and  old age.  As my carer, I want Darrell to read the entries to me on a regular basis, when all else fails.  It will also improve his reading skills and possibly be a stepping stone onto big books with leather binding!

    I am told that many people with Bipolar have creative abilities, that can so easily be lost through meds.  Many like me enjoy writing, It helps to make sense of the jumbled mess, that sometimes inhabits the darker recesses of one's mind! I aim to keep my mind as active as possible, even if they put me on a killer dose of Lithium, so it's kind of an insurance policy.  It makes money, it jogs my memory, it offloads anger and for some, it can be a good read, others positively not!

    Above all I will always tell the truth, unless I enter that Manic World of Mania.  Under those circumstances, I'll try and issue a disclaimer, but I think you will know to be honest.  

    This blog is getting more hits than I could have imagined and has been crashing several times a day under the weight of internet traffic, ex-partners, lowlifes and Academics, I jest; It's doing great, and I'm happy about it!
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    Uncertain Times!

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    I am sat here on my tod, listening to emotional music taking me back to happier times. It has been lovely seeing people over the last few days. You have all made me feel so happy. This was the perfect week, this is that final weekend before things really do change for me.  Thanks to Darrell, I am finally getting the professional psychiatric care I need.  A three-month wait, has become a two-week rush, to seek the final diagnosis that I need to move either forward or become pensioned off as it were.

    Medication has never worked for me.  It has caused so much anxiety and pain, jaw dropping moments and life-threatening situations.  Now I am literally surrendering myself to the Doctors and will follow recommendations and medication to the letter.  I have no other option.  The sedatives and anti psychotics, prescribed to stop MANIA are at an end.  Now it's time for a final diagnosis, to lay to rest my medical conditions and get the correct, stable, life-saving pills; yes life-saving.  I can not go through another suicidal phase, I am tired of the severe highs and lows,  It is debilitating and a shocking thing for my partner and friends to witness; It really scares me to my bones!

    I know it is going to be difficult to treat two completely different conditions; one a chemical imbalance, the other a brain wiring fault.  I know options could be limited and risky and getting used to such a course of drugs could be the hardest challenge yet, but the alternative, is a lifetime of instability, supervision and a care package I am not prepared to endure or indeed put Darrell through.

    The Mania I experienced recently was like nothing I had suffered before. Being locked up for mine and my partners safety was completely soul-destroying.  Darrell has never been here when I have made a choice to end my life; I know he was completely shocked and lost; he did what he had to do.  I can not live a lifetime like that, it would be an appalling way to run our lives.  Waiting, fear and unknown fate would end us finally; we both deserve a better twenty years than those that have gone before.

    I am not sure how highly medicated I will be, which always comes back to loss of memory, personality and free thinking. These are my nightmares and those constant frightening thoughts;  I have a feeling I will change.  I know my psychiatrist will explain what to expect, but you just can not prepare yourself for the loss of who you are. There are worst and best case scenarios; in reality it depends on my chemical disposition, reaction to stronger pills and personal wellbeing and quality of life.

    I have done my own research, and as usual there are limitations on what the NHS can offer.  If the drugs are not approved by NICE, then it is out of the question.  In reality, we are at the mercy of the consultant's expertise.  If he or she gets it wrong it would be a disaster.

    These are not depressive thoughts, just realistic thinking at a time when I am actually pretty positive.  So on Thursday 14th May, the options are laid bare.  The decision is out of my hands.  Darrell will make the final decision as my responsible carer.  It should be his choice anyway, he has suffered the most in all this.  I know he will make the right decision; he has too!

    D DAY THURSDAY!