You have nothing to fear

HMRCOpen this fucking door, Now. If you don’t open this door I’ll fucking kick it in.

Well, I am glad it’s not my door, and glad it’s a woman’s voice as women tend to be less physically strong. A wronged lover? Shouting from outside, then from inside, recurred for about an hour. Next day, I saw my neighbour’s mother. “I don’t want to pry,” I lied. Well, I don’t just want to pry. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.” Her daughter Steph had been drinking for a couple of days, so they have taken her home for a bit. The mother was just there to pick up a few bits.

van Gogh- The Mulberry Tree, detailThere’s a large dark bill board to walk past on my way to the Meeting house, from HM Revenue and Customs, in the same series as the one illustrated: just one eye, peering over something. The fact that the eye is female, young and attractive makes it more spooky. “If you’ve declared all your income you have nothing to fear.” If you’ve done nothing wrong you have nothing to fear is an authoritarian lie, since snoopers can see wrong in anything: the Revenue investigation of my brother-in-law found £7.43 in unpaid tax, but cost him £1000 in accountants’ fees, in about 1990. 600px-Radiation_warning_symbol.svg

In the dentist, all the surgery doors have radiation warning symbols, and the dentist gave me a radioactive source to take into my mouth. I saw the x-ray on his monitor, and wondered if they have found a new way of exploiting NHS payment regulations. He sold me yet another new design of tool to stick between my teeth and remove plaque, told me my gums were receding and inflamed, and arranged to see me again in six months. I went off clothes shopping, and found Dottie P. had closed, and the tiny Clarks’ shop stock seemed much poorer than usual: well, there are always the charity shops.

(Are flat brogues in, this season? My suspicion is that the Swanston Clarks’ has last year’s styles at full price.)

Quaker stuff. We decided to nominate M to Outreach Committee. He has enthusiasm and ideas, not all of which will work out, I think. He went to his first meeting, and wants to share his ideas with the Area Meeting Clerk (me) by email, as well as the committee. He phoned me to say that they seemed a little lacking in conviction. The best lack all conviction, while the worst/ are full of passionate intensity, I quoted. I did not say to him you have to sort it out among yourselves. I can’t get involved. Crikey, though unemployed I have a management problem. Then I got worked up about saying that to him but in such an indirect manner. Should I phone him back? Should I put it in an email? I want everything to be nice and everyone happy and working together and what if-

msc1aThen there was the Facebook at 10 film, which includes this photo, which shames me. Comment from U., feeling honoured to be in your review x, which wound me up far more because it still winds me up. I was pacing the floor, screaming, they could probably give me something to calm me down and I could get a job in Tesco, but I would rather be devoting all my gifts and intelligence to FINDING A WAY THROUGH THIS-

and F can scream, and be taken home and looked after

I want to scream and for someone, anyone, just to hear me.

Writing later: I threw a wobbly. I do that. I get that I cannot trust myself, my perceptions or my world, and this destabilises me. Five hours later I feel more stable if a bit fragile.

7 thoughts on “You have nothing to fear

  1. We’re listening. I also think you’re getting through this.
    Did you give up on the 1930’s hairstyle? It really suits the shape of your face. Otherwise I’d go for something a bit more bouffant. Only a bit. Good cheekbones and a good nose need proper framing.


    • 27-sept-2011 I was in the pit of it on Saturday, having built up to it over the previous week, and possibly earlier; and getting out of it by that evening, going up on Sunday though a bit fragile. This is my current hairstyle: I had the bob in 1996. Hair too long down makes my chin look too big. That is my camping wig, because sparks from campfires ruin wigs.

      Thank you for being here- commenting makes it more real for me. But see the Weird Possibility in tomorrow’s post!


  2. You wanna join me in my pit too?

    “And for someone, anyone, to just hear me.”

    We all have these times, you know, and anger is a good way to crawl back out of them. I love every picture of you, and find each interesting, not shaming. So what if in that one you look, at first glance, like a brooding, existentially challenged rancher? It sure makes a change from the curled up smiler sitting next to you. You are as you are. Strong. Clever. And lovely when you are angry.

    XXX :-))


    • Don’t say there’s nothing to do in the doldrums
      it’s just- not- true.

      That shames me because all the attraction is one way. “What an idiot” I think. Now, perhaps, “That was where I was at the time” or even “Two idiots”!


  3. Good gravy, you’re beautiful … such kind eyes and an enchantingly mischievous smile. I like your new “do” it’s very Ellen de Generes, though I think the curly look (while reserved for possible incineration) is cute.

    Fragility is a kind of strength, I believe. In the course of my struggle with PTSD I came so close on three occasions to just doing myself in. I felt as if my life as I had known it was over (it was … it is) and I more or less hated the world, though I liked a few people in it. On two occasions, I just couldn’t do it … jumping from an 11th floor balcony? Right … I’d be a quadriplegic and even more depressed. Shooting? Ugh. Who wants to be found looking like that? The third time I was deadly earnest, left my note, took my pills … and woke up exceptionally refreshed in the morning. When I told my shrink about my total surprise at waking up after taking an entire bottle of X (a prescription drug), he waved his hand and said, “Oh, it’s impossible to kill yourself with X.”

    My point is that I know I have developed new strength from out of my tears … my nights drinking glasses of wine and just crying and crying and crying. Somehow, in some fashion, all of that angst and fragile feeling, all of that anger and hurt at my humiliation, made me stronger. I’m not yet strong, though people think I am … but I’m stronger, and that’s something.

    There … that’s a lot of sharing for me. I don’t usually share those personal adventures! I must like you 🙂


    • Thank you. And thank you for sharing. If you think better of it, ask and I will delete, but not a huge number of people come here: maybe half a dozen read the comments. Over a hundred for Born that way, but that was exceptional.

      I left work at lunchtime, walked home intending to take my sleeping pills- which definitely will kill, in the right number- in the bath with a relaxing hot chocolate to calm me and make me more likely to go through with it. Then I sat in my flat and realised I did not want to die, just to get out of that work situation. So I did.

      You have my respect, sharing these things. We all have a lot to bear. This sharing makes bearing it easier.


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