2013: Operation Yew Tree Extraction
Not 2113 as I was convinced it was last night..Its the 21 Century, easy mistake to make.
I was never very sure what to expect in 2012. It had some significance, the went beyond the Mayan Calendar even beyond 12,12,12. There were times years ago when I longed for it to be 2012. I always knew it would get better. Aimed low you see, 'look for the bare necessities , until its safe to take more.
Things have been okay. Therapy, Little Man at school, a safe and stable home, friendliness and support from twitter, maybe even a pal near by to! Then there was also the psychiatrist who reads notes and the deaths in the family. I wouldn't admit that as a good thing anywhere but here expect maybe with a good therapist. Two less people to worry about jumping out of a cupboard on me or wee man. Two less people who may hold some tiny snippet of memory that might be used to completely rip apart my conscious understandings and take me back into hell where Satan, his minions and their forces are all very literal and very real. There is a bit of me that feels that about any death though. The older or more involved with any thing 'high profile' the better while any new baby born is a fresh, clean wee brain that with the help of other clean wee brains can cut through all this shit.
Both of the deaths in the family were male. My granddad and a cousin who was a year younger than me. The hardest, most emotional and distressing aspect to it all has been the increased contact and exposure via facebook of my late cousin's sister. We have been close, I believe. Its so much easier when everyone else involved in heaps of violent, horrible crime is a knob. There were precious few moments of feeling close to my sisters growing up but it was different for with, don't know what to call her, PC will have to do (as in my perfect cousin). Her parents moved up socially and economically and made a better job of getting out mine who moved geographically and made matters worse.
It was his heart that got my male cousin. So I guess that means he couldn't of been all that bad...the useless fuck.
And my Granddad? He couldn't of been all that good but he wasn't that bad either. I don't think he let me see whatever he was up to.
Cant be thinking about the last year without mentioned #Savile et al though. Ongoing contact with the police, who are currently all pulling straws to see who is the unlucky bastard who is going to have to deal with me. The chat with the constables went fine until I was showing them out and I reach out to open the door wider and brushed one of their shoulders, he flinched massively and I flinched as well and jumped back. The taller bloke had hadn't done the actual statement taking and hadn't said much, other than mentioning with a total dead pan face that he was 'down with the kids' after the short guy said he hadn't heard of any of the names I was giving him, causally looked back at us both like we were edijits . It was briefly all very uncomfortable, they left very quickly after that sounding a bit despondent. I locked the door and scuttled back to telly and a blanket. The living room was fucking spotless and pretty lovely. I'd actually been quite glad someone from the 'relevant authorities' was coming over because fuck all else was motivating me to deal with the state of the place.
I have some solicitors numbers but I need to have a good think about what I want to say to them. I have always looked at it as the police as having the key to it all, the key to finding out, proving it, the key stopping it all, the key to whether or not it is dealt with, known about. They need everyone's support. Not that the police are in much of a position at the moment to be dealing with some thing this big until they have sorted themselves out. So what I think I want to do is get help finding out how many police people will confirm they have spoken to me and about what, when etc before I can go any further with them.
I was putting it off before Christmas but I know what I need to do, or find someone to do for me. And that...is contact: 'The Social Worker, from the Social Worker Factory (awarded best in its category 1993, type 'Scottish Female'). The more I think about the time I spent talking to her though the more I think I may have said. It makes me feel sick remembering how I felt before and after I talked to her, she made reference to a woman who she was going to be giving the Savile information to, pretty sure I signed. The was talk about a documentary by Newsnight by someone to me back when I was refuge in 2010 (think I said I'd heard about that but it wouldn't be happening when he was alive. Oops). Basically, all lot of questions that I feel I need to articulate and direct. Another shitty ditch I have to get across, it wont be the first. I'll get across but I might not be smelling quite as nice on the other side though..
Merry merry to all!
I was never very sure what to expect in 2012. It had some significance, the went beyond the Mayan Calendar even beyond 12,12,12. There were times years ago when I longed for it to be 2012. I always knew it would get better. Aimed low you see, 'look for the bare necessities , until its safe to take more.
Things have been okay. Therapy, Little Man at school, a safe and stable home, friendliness and support from twitter, maybe even a pal near by to! Then there was also the psychiatrist who reads notes and the deaths in the family. I wouldn't admit that as a good thing anywhere but here expect maybe with a good therapist. Two less people to worry about jumping out of a cupboard on me or wee man. Two less people who may hold some tiny snippet of memory that might be used to completely rip apart my conscious understandings and take me back into hell where Satan, his minions and their forces are all very literal and very real. There is a bit of me that feels that about any death though. The older or more involved with any thing 'high profile' the better while any new baby born is a fresh, clean wee brain that with the help of other clean wee brains can cut through all this shit.
Both of the deaths in the family were male. My granddad and a cousin who was a year younger than me. The hardest, most emotional and distressing aspect to it all has been the increased contact and exposure via facebook of my late cousin's sister. We have been close, I believe. Its so much easier when everyone else involved in heaps of violent, horrible crime is a knob. There were precious few moments of feeling close to my sisters growing up but it was different for with, don't know what to call her, PC will have to do (as in my perfect cousin). Her parents moved up socially and economically and made a better job of getting out mine who moved geographically and made matters worse.
It was his heart that got my male cousin. So I guess that means he couldn't of been all that bad...the useless fuck.
And my Granddad? He couldn't of been all that good but he wasn't that bad either. I don't think he let me see whatever he was up to.
Cant be thinking about the last year without mentioned #Savile et al though. Ongoing contact with the police, who are currently all pulling straws to see who is the unlucky bastard who is going to have to deal with me. The chat with the constables went fine until I was showing them out and I reach out to open the door wider and brushed one of their shoulders, he flinched massively and I flinched as well and jumped back. The taller bloke had hadn't done the actual statement taking and hadn't said much, other than mentioning with a total dead pan face that he was 'down with the kids' after the short guy said he hadn't heard of any of the names I was giving him, causally looked back at us both like we were edijits . It was briefly all very uncomfortable, they left very quickly after that sounding a bit despondent. I locked the door and scuttled back to telly and a blanket. The living room was fucking spotless and pretty lovely. I'd actually been quite glad someone from the 'relevant authorities' was coming over because fuck all else was motivating me to deal with the state of the place.
I have some solicitors numbers but I need to have a good think about what I want to say to them. I have always looked at it as the police as having the key to it all, the key to finding out, proving it, the key stopping it all, the key to whether or not it is dealt with, known about. They need everyone's support. Not that the police are in much of a position at the moment to be dealing with some thing this big until they have sorted themselves out. So what I think I want to do is get help finding out how many police people will confirm they have spoken to me and about what, when etc before I can go any further with them.
I was putting it off before Christmas but I know what I need to do, or find someone to do for me. And that...is contact: 'The Social Worker, from the Social Worker Factory (awarded best in its category 1993, type 'Scottish Female'). The more I think about the time I spent talking to her though the more I think I may have said. It makes me feel sick remembering how I felt before and after I talked to her, she made reference to a woman who she was going to be giving the Savile information to, pretty sure I signed. The was talk about a documentary by Newsnight by someone to me back when I was refuge in 2010 (think I said I'd heard about that but it wouldn't be happening when he was alive. Oops). Basically, all lot of questions that I feel I need to articulate and direct. Another shitty ditch I have to get across, it wont be the first. I'll get across but I might not be smelling quite as nice on the other side though..
Merry merry to all!
