Being a newbie blogger, I am slowly getting used to the idea that Blogging is meant for social people.
I am not a social people.
I am not Anti-social, but I do find it very difficult making and keeping friends.
This is not because I’m an unfriendly person, merely because I do not have the social skills required in maintaining friendships.
I have had ‘friends’ but because of my Autism, and the energy required to maintain friendships, I find it extremely difficult, and even more so as I am getting older.
In ‘real life’ I have 1 friend. Hi Lynda.
I recently fell in love with blogging, and wanted to be the best that I could be at it.
Here comes the crunch, to become a successful blogger you have to befriend other bloggers.
And there lies the problem. I love reading and finding out how other people tick. I find people fascinating. I will read their blogs and advice and think to myself, wow that was a good read, or I didn’t know that. I retain information easily, and always absorb what has been written.
Then something else will come into my mind, and boom, Im now on a completely different thought path, and promptly forget to like the article, or comment on it.
Not because I don’t like, or have nothing to say, simply because I have a memory like a sieve.
So for all of the hundreds of bloggers who’s blogs I read and love .. I love your work, I do have lots I would like to say to you all, but my Autism makes this difficult.
All of my blogging friends are important to me, they have taken the time to read what I have to say.
Time is one of the most precious commodities, and if you have given yours to me freely, then you truly are a friend.
To all of my readers, and fellow bloggers, I appreciate your friendship, keep on keeping on.
Last week I made the decision to pay for private psychiatric help.
I don’t have a great deal of money, being a single parent on disability isn’t exactly living the life of the rich and famous.
Most of my pennies are spoken for weekly, and with the rising cost of living today, our money doesn’t go very far.
I decided that my mental health had reached a point that intervention was needed, and I contacted my local mental health crisis team.
This was 4 months ago, and I am still waiting for urgent help.
Having paid into the NHS all of my life, I am at the end of a very long line of other people just like me, waiting for the same thing.
The NHS mental health service has broken, it has become so stretched that it has finally snapped under the strain. A number of NHS and other psychiatrists have set up a private clinic in an effort to take the strain, and provide the much needed mental health support, at a price.
I’m not quite sure how I came across this website but it had me intrigued. For only £350 I could have an hour consultation, a diagnosis and treatment plan, all recognised by the NHS, and within a few days.
After a long and informative chat with the customer helpline, I actually booked an appointment, and waited patiently for the next 4 days until it arrived.
My appointment was on a secure weblink via a patients portal online, you are given a password to enter your virtual room, where you will meet your chosen psychiatrist.
That night although my anxiety was through the roof, I sat comfortably on my bed, with my PJ’s on, and up popped the psychiatrist on my MacBook screen.
This is a novelty for a 50 year old recluse, who didn’t even own a computer a few months ago.
I felt so comfortable, at ease, and the doctor was fantastic, Dr Axelby was my choice, she was professional, understanding, compassionate and put me at great ease.
Our 50 minute appointment turned into nearly 90 minutes at no extra cost to myself, and I was given a diagnosis of Complex PTSD.
I have been under psychiatric services since early childhood with no diagnosis, it has only taken £350, 1 doctor, and 90 minutes to finally give me the help that I’ve been asking for for over 40 years.
Our mental health is just as important as our physical health. You cannot put a price on happiness.
So who benefits from this innovative idea ?
A. The Psychiatrist, she gets the chance to help people and earn an income at the same time.
B. The National Health Service, who are buckling under so much pressure from mental health related illnesses.
And last but by no means least..
C. The patient, Me, I may be lighter in pocket, but I am also much lighter in my mind and spirit. I have answers to some of the questions that I have been asking all of my life.
How much would you be willing to pay for Happiness ?
I consider it money well spent.
Poor Mental Health can be a Killer.. why not take care of yours today.
A few months ago, quite by chance I connected with a lady called Joan Hughes. As soon as I connected with Joan, I felt as though I knew her.
I live in the UK, and Joan is from New York. Joan told how she had recently published her first ever novel, and it was then that I had a vision that her book would become a best seller.
I told Joan this before purchasing her book, and then requested a signed copy if she wouldn’t mind.
I have never asked for a signed copy of any book, and being a book lover I have read many.
After explaining that I was psychic, and that our energies had connected to bring her a message or a sign that she was on the right path. she took it all in her stride.
Joan had to purchase her own book from Amazon, then she had to pay extortionate postage fees to ship the book to the UK.
All of this at a virtual strangers request.
I received my book Growing Only Dandelions, with a beautiful inscription from Joan, and I was not disappointed, my opinion remained the same, it would become a bestseller.
I have watched over the months as Joan promotes her book, she has been very proactive in getting her voice heard above the noise in many places and especially on Facebook.
A few weeks ago I noticed a post from Joan saying that she had been banned from sharing, or even participating in an Facebook book club group, because of her controversial novel.
I couldn’t understand why it was deemed to be controversial, and Joan told me that the explanation from the admin of the group, was that because the word ‘God’ was used too many times in her story, and religion can be controversial.
Correct me if I’m wrong but when was the word God deemed controversial ? I felt very strongly that Joan’s book was being hidden from view by certain influential online groups.
Joan’s book has a wonderful story, it touched my heart, and is touching the heart and spirit of most who read it.
Today Joan and I received another sign or Message that things are still on track.
I posted a cheque off to Joan a few weeks ago, to reimburse her any costs involved for my the purchase of my signed copy.
Today I had a message from Joan saying that she had received her cheque, she was gobsmacked at the amount, and did I know the significance of the number 3, or how symbolic it was to her book?
I may be psychic, but I’m not that good, I replied that no, I had no idea of the significance of the number 3 for her or her book.
I had forgotten the amount that the cheque was for, I just converted the $42 that she had paid in the US, with the UK exchange rate, and it came in at £33.
However for Joan it didn’t end there, as she was relaying the incident to her sons girlfriend, who also aware of the significance of 3, she had her own sign, when her battery was showing at 33 %.
They say signs always come in three’s, Joan’s third sign was pointed out to her by her husband, it was right behind her written on the wall.
The story in Joan’s own words.
Joan informs me that she had written this number all the way through her book, 3, three, third, as her way of blessing the book.
I hadn’t noticed when I read it, but I will be sure to notice it the next time I do.
Signs are all around us, it is whether we choose to notice them or not that makes the difference. I believe that Growing only Dandelions is meant to be read by all.
One other sign for me came when I found out that Joan is also the founder of JT’s Law.
It was set up to honour the memory of her Godson JT who died after a choking tragedy.
What Joan doesn’t know is that I have a severe phobia of children choking. I can’t even be around children eating without panicking. I developed this phobia after watching my then 6 year old baby brother, almost choking to death on a boiled sweet. I myself was only 8 years old at the time, and the memory still haunts me to this day.
Finding out that Joan is a crusader in child choking prevention, is also a sign to me that we are connected on a very spiritual level.
Bon voyage Joan… until we meet again 💕 love Betty x
I had already scheduled my daily blog, when out of the night sky a new blog formed.
I am currently sat in the joint at the top of the garden, it has no heat or lighting yet, but I have my hot water bottles in hand, and my hat, coat and scarf covering the rest of me.
I had forgotten it was guy Fawkes night until I started hearing the fireworks going off all around me.
I no longer have to suffer the yearly bonfire nights when the children were small, even though I hated them, my children having fun was more important to me, so I suffered in silence.
Tonight, after 30 years of bonfire nights, I can finally hang my retirement cap up, and watch them from the comfort of my rocking chair. At a safe enough distance, that the bangs don’t jolt my spirit out of my body.
Fireworks are so pretty to look at, but the accompanying bangs are just too much for someone with sensory processing disorder to cope with.
Noise cancelling headphones work up to a point, but I can actually feel the vibration right throughout my entire body, it is an extremely unpleasant feeling.
Tonight I need not worry, I can hear the bangs from a safe enough distance that it doesn’t actually hurt, and I can see the pretty fireworks too.
Bonfire night was a big deal when we were children.
Halloween was barely mentioned, but the week leading up to guy Fawkes was magical. We would make an effigy of Guy Fawkes, the Guy behind it all, the one who allegedly betrayed his country, and committed treason with his failed gunpowder plot.
We would use our parents old clothes, stuffed with our mothers old laddered tights, odd socks, newspapers, and anything we could lay our hands on to make a convincing Guy.
We would steal a turnip from the farmers fields for the head, and we would carve the turnip, the same way we do pumpkins now.
Only a turnip is one of the hardest vegetables on the planet, so this could take a while. Inside the carved turnip would be one of the candles that we always had in the house for emergencies, when the electricity went off.
Then we would go around the neighbours houses with our ‘Guy’ in a wheelbarrow, and we would ask ‘A penny for the Guy ?’
Money was very tight in those days, you got a lot for a penny in those days. We would share the goodies out between us, then our guy would be placed on the top of the bonfire and set alight.
We would put potatoes in the fire, covered in tin foil, and toast our bread, I had never even heard of a marshmallow in those days.
There were no fireworks involved in my early Experiences of Bonfire night, but over the years I have watched while fireworks became readily available to all.
It is strange watching old traditions die out, and new ones forming.
I wonder how many children waving sparklers in their hands right now, know the origins of why we celebrate this night in the UK ?
Enjoy your Guy Fawkes night, and stay safe, love Betty x
We’ve all been there, forgetting to close Tabs on your computer until it starts running slowly, or stops working altogether.
There is too much data for our computer to handle.
Our brains work very similar to computers. But are much more superior.
Our Brains have units in networks (Neurons instead of semiconductors. They take in, and compile data. They analyse it and generate output, and so much more.
Most people don’t even realise that they can have hundreds of open tabs in their brain at any one time.
These tabs can be thoughts, feelings emotions, memories, basically any data that your brain has encountered is stored away safely.
We often find that when we worry too much, or become too stressed our brain will keep us awake at night searching for a solution to the problem.
Unfortunately we won’t find the answer in things that happened 20 years ago, or whether our bum looked fat in that dress we wore last week.
the brain will flick from one thought to another in a desperate attempt to find a solution from all of the stored data that it has, and it has lots of it.
The brain is trying to tell us that something isn’t right, it is glitching and needs a reboot.
Because we are often unaware of what is happening we go to the GP, we take pills, but nothing ever seems to work.
Since realising that I have had hundreds of thought tabs open most of the time, I have been working on closing them down. Having all of these tabs open has prevented me from seeing clearly, from thinking clearly, it has basically prevented me from living a happy fulfilling life.
Since closing my tabs down, via medication and meditation I have become so much happier, much more productive, and rarely anxious. This is because I regularly empty the caches from my brain and close unnecessary tabs, just like I do on my MacBook when the need arises.
We all take care of our PC’s in this way, so why not do it for our own super computer ?
Our brains are super computers, they need regular maintenance and servicing, just like any other machine only in a different way.
Have you had your brain serviced lately?
What are you waiting for ?
Don’t leave it until it is too late, anxiety leads to depression, depression can lead to suicide. Take control before you lose control.
Close any open tabs, empty your caches, and show your brain some love today.
She had been fighting chronic COPD for a few years, and she died peacefully from pneumonia at the age of 70. Leaving behind 3 devastated children who had already lost their father, my uncle, to an aggressive brain tumour, when only in his 50’s.
The day aunt Joyce died I was doing my daily meditation, when there she was, as large as life, in my third eye.
She told me she was happy, and was rubbing her hands with glee at the thought of attending her own funeral the following week.
Aunt Joyce loved a bit of gossip, especially as she and her sister didn’t get along very well in life, and she was looking forward to her final hoorah to the world.
She did ask me to wear a cap for her funeral, and not to take it off during the service, just to annoy her sister, but we compromised on me wearing my noise cancelling headphones instead.
The day of the funeral finally arrived , when the family would gather together at the crematorium, and pay their last respects to Joyce.
Joyce’s sister completely blanked me, as was expected, the funeral was going well with no visible signs of Joyce actually being there, until the song ‘I am sailing’ by Rod Stuart began to play,.
As the curtains closed around her coffin, there she was, on a ledge above the curtains strumming a fake Guitar, and singing her heart out.
I actually laughed out loud but managed to stop myself before anybody other than my daughter who was sitting next to me, noticed that I was laughing, as Joyce went into her place in the next world.
I was not sad that Joyce had gone, she had been wanting to join her husband, the love of her life, since he had left this Earthly plane.
She was happy, and I was happy for her.
Being happy at a funeral isn’t really the done thing, so after relating the incident to her three grieving children, my cousins, who already know I am strange, but accept me anyway, I left knowing that I had given some comfort to those who needed it. Farewell Aunt Joyce, until we meet again.
Today hasn’t been a good day for me on the personality front.
I have Dissociative Identity Disorder.
I don’t call it that, being of a different generation and mindset, I prefer to call it by the old term ‘multiple personality disorder.’
There is debate over whether this disorder is distinct separate personalities or merely less than one whole personality.
I don’t feel less of a whole person, more that I am multiple people.
Less than 2% of the American population have multiple personality disorder, and women are diagnosed 6 times more than men.
So how come movies always portray men as the crazy person with multiple personality disorder ?, serial killers, who’s alters secretly kidnap people and murder them ?
Why is it never the 50 year old British Geordie Bird, who thinks fuck it let’s go rip some heads off ?
I don’t think I have a personality that is capable of murder, but never say never, my ex husband hasn’t been seen for 8 years so you never know.
Today has not been a good day. Although I can be stable at times, if certain ‘triggers’ occur out of the blue, I can become angry Betty, she is 13 and was let down by everybody in her childhood. She is still very angry about that.
Last night we were ‘triggered’ during a text conversation with a friend.
He wasn’t to know it was a trigger for us, but 13 year old Betty got on her high horse and chased him off.
Waking this morning we still weren’t quite sure which Betty we were, when the teen son suddenly informed us that he wasn’t going to school. He has started refusing school again, and we are thinking about taking him out of the education system altogether, because of his Autism and anxiety.
So in a split second we quickly changed to Mammy Betty.
Mammy Betty gets on with the job, says it like it is, only teenage Betty keeps jumping in and out too. We began switching rapidly through all alters, looking for a solution.
Unfortunately suicidal Betty claimed the throne for a good few hours, whilst stoner Betty and Heidi continually dragged her up to the joint at the top of the garden until she disappeared.
This is quite a disappointed because we thought that suicidal Betty had gone for good. This seems not to be the case.
We shall have to keep our eye on the ball. This Betty is too clever and sly for us to ignore.
This is me, writer Betty signing out for now.
Tune in next time for ‘what happened to Wednesday ?’
It is finally here, the day that I have been waiting for for 3 months, the erection of ‘The Joint’ at the top of the garden.
It is definitely here, it is on the back of the van, and they are unloading as I speak, I am sitting here ready and eager to supervise this long awaited erection.
The builder teas are on the table, it is that strong you can stand the spoon up in it, and there are plenty of biscuits to keep sugar levels up.
I have severe mental health difficulties that prevent me from leaving the house, so my life tends to be focused more now on what makes me happy.
My new summerhouse will be the icing on the cake, my very own She Shed, The Joint at the top of the Garden.
3 months ago I had a vision, I would retire from a life that I could no longer sustain in the outside world, and live happily ever after at ‘The Joint’ at the top of the garden. There I would be able to meditate, write, paint, and be at one with nature, and myself.
Here I could not only heal myself, I could heal others with my words.
Just because the temporary accommodation was only a 6ft shed full of spades and tools this hasn’t stopped me from healing myself, or from healing others, I have just been cold and wet doing it.
Being a single parent to an Autistic Teen, who also has Tourette’s Syndrome, can be quite hectic and noisy, trying to meditate in these circumstances can be difficult, with my new She Shed I will be able to meditate in silence, with only the sounds of nature all around me.
Darren & Michael have been hard at it, I’m sure the Ham wraps, crisps and chocolate have helped somewhat.
My Erection is almost fully complete.
And it’s up.. I finally have my erection thanks to these two handsome chaps, Darren and Michael, they did an amazing job and I couldn’t be happier. Their Boss on the other hand is a different story, but I shall save that for my review of this beautiful piece of woodwork.
The smell inside is delicious, it reminds me of an Alpine lodge, I feel like Heidi, and I can’t wait for the snow to arrive.
But think even older that that.. Heidi is now 50, she’s a grandma herself. And she has finally found her retirement home.
Now for the interior design , kizzy seems to like it too.
To obtain the best possible erection, keep your erectors happy with tea and biscuits, encourage them to do a good job, and your erection will last for many years to come.
Happy erection day to me, love Heidi, Betty and the gang x