Missing the Old Days


I’m feeling quite down tonight; I’m thinking of old times. Specifically I’m thinking about my time at University. A time before I was diagnosed with all my mental health problems. It was a simpler time. One that for one year was ABSOLUTELY perfect. Whenever I hear music from that time, it brings me right back. And my stomach fills with butterflies. 

I hated school you see. I never knew who I was. I was always an outcast. Sure, I had some friends but we were always people on the periphery. In fact, we probably never really liked each other that much. We just had nobody else. And when I left school, I said to myself that I’d never go back. It was over and I was only going to live for the future. 

When I started uni, I was really nervous. I barely touched alcohol. The most I had was a bit of Bacardi at Christmas and the ocassional Millers that my Mum bought me. I had to live off campus at the start at this satellite place. I was scared from being alone from my parents and I cried when my Dad left. I didn’t even know there was a bus that took me into uni and I thought I had to walk for ages and spend loads of money on trains to get where I needed to be. Luckily, when I went into the communal kitchen, I met some of my new housemates include this really great law student and one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever known. I fancied her like crazy but she already had a boyfriend and I’m the sort of guy that respects that. Plus she was WAY out of my league. I got on really well with my new housemates and became friends though when I started my degree, I immediately met like minded people who I had made stronger bonds with. Some who I even speak to now. 

As time moved on, things got better. I moved to a halls of residence close to campus. I took my first venture to a union bar. Was coaxed to a club for the first time by some of my friends (I had a great time by the way); discovered one of my new flat mates had lovely boobs (no I never hooked up with her but clubs have interesting dress codes). I made some even closer friends. Became a music “expert”. Bought more CDs than ever before.  Went out to town with friends. Went to country pubs. I fell in love deeply for the first time (I met the girl I thought I was going to marry). I did well with my course. I had a social life. Hell, I was a student bar most nights. Life was the best it had ever been. 

I made the mistake of keeping in touch with one guy from school though. 

I was under the impression that we were friends. And I felt bad for him. He screwed up in his final year of school and redid his final year again. He originally wanted to do engineering but had a change of heart to do art instead. I wanted him to get ahead and I was loving uni life so I didn’t want him to miss out so I convinced him to apply to the neighbouring university. I wanted to share the happiness. He got into the university and I was happy for him. Plus he would be living with us. I should have known that was a bad idea from the time he visited us. But I was idealistic. Naive. Happy. 

In the following two years, the happiness I had collapsed. He took over. He influenced other friends of mine and I partly blame him for one guy underachieving with dreams of bands and stuff. He made a play on the girl I was in love with and told her crap about me. She met another guy the day he first visited me and she ended up marrying him. She even has a child with him. That broke my heat probably the worst. And after the end of the second year where I drank too much, thought hard about killing myself and being genuinely miserable, I nearly decided to never go back. My good deed ended up ruining my life. My degree was in tatters. And in the third year, well the third year I ended up consolidating. I shut myself off from the world. I cried a lot. I lived in hope that I could still get a good enough grade for medical school but it was too little too late. I left uni heartbroken, completely messed up and failing to achieve what I wanted to. And all that I am left with are these amazing tunes that remind me of that perfect year. 

These days, my OCD and depression are the worst they have been.  I’m socially anxious. Hell, I’m anxious about everything and I’ve lost touch with most of my friends. A knock on effect of the shame of flunking and the pain I went through. I can no longer drink beer with gluten in. In fact, I can’t eat anything with gluten in. I never leave the house unless I’m going to hospital. My life is a shadow of that great time. 

I look back it all and it to this day day, even though it happened over ten years ago haunts me. I think of what I lost. What I had. What I could have had. God it hurts so much. 

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Disappointed with Apple

Dear readers,

I hope you’re having a great day.

I am having a bit of a to do with Apple at the moment and it is really driving me insane. I have tried to contact them on numerous occasions and indeed I’ve also tried to contact their legal team but their set up is such that it really prevents you from being able to contact anyone with ease. They do their best to make sure you can’t get to the people you want to get to.

My whole story began when months ago when apple advertised Comedy in HD on the iTunes Store for £4.99 and listed the entire nine series of How I Met Your Mother there. Being a big HIMYM fan, I was delighted to have the opportunity to purchase them all in HD so I leaped into action and purchased them all. It cost a fair bit but I was really happy to have them.

Then things started to take a turn for the worst. When I began to watch them, I noticed that the quality of the picture was really poor. Definitely substandard HD. Actually, probably substandard for standard definition. I checked a few of the series and the problem applied to all of them. What was going on? I then noticed that actually they were only broadcasting in Standard Definition and in fact the advert had misled me into purchasing them when they weren’t as described. Upset, I immediately went onto iTunes and requested refunds because the picture was substandard. I managed to request the first three series okay but then Apple locked me out. BUT I PURCHASED THEM ALL I thought. So I selected another option which was “I have decided to return these items”. Please bear in mind that I have watched no more than about 6 minutes in total and I have not downloaded any of them onto my phone etc. After I request refunds for them all, I then go onto Apple chat support and just explain to them what happened and why I did what I did. I wanted them to understand that it wasn’t me just being an idiot but literally I had been misled into purchasing something that wasn’t what it said it was. They said it was fine, not to worry and I thought that was the end of it.

Come three days later, I go to purchase a film off iTunes. I was really excited about this movie and went to the store to purchase it. What I got was a message pop up which stated that in order to purchase the item that I had to waver my right for withdrawal and if I downloaded and or viewed the product, I would not be eligible for a refund regardless. Essentially saying, if I purchase something and it is useful, a con or broken, I can’t now get a refund. And hey, they set this on me because I wanted a refund for something THEY incorrectly advertised.

I have since tried to get in touch with them and get some sense as to why they think it is okay for them to do this. I have not tried to con them; nor have I tried to get something for free. What I purchased was substandard so for them to set this on me is really rather ridiculous. I now feel like I’m a second class Apple user despite the investment that I’ve made with the company and it really puts me off using them which sucks because for the most part I like their products. But how can I agree to continue with someone that treats me in such a way?

To be honest, the whole situation makes me very down, definitely sucking into my depression. It’s actually made me feel suicidal at times and it angers me that something can have so much power on me but I have very few things I enjoy in life and Apple have sullied something I enjoyed.

That’s how I feel right now,

D

I’ve got bigger boobs than you: dealing with man boobs

You know, one of the most awkward and uncomfortable moments of my life was when I was 14. A girl, let’s call her K, who I had a massive crush on for a few years comes up to me and says “Hey D, you have BIGGER breasts than me!” 

Yes. That is exactly the thing you want to hear from your crush. 

I hate my moobs. I don’t know why some fat guys have them and some don’t but unfortunately mine are pretty well defined. It makes me embarrassed to go. I can’t go swimming (which I used to love) and it makes me feel really worried about ever having an intimate relationship with a woman. I’m really starting to feel like I’m going to be the 40 Year old Virgin. 

It’s pretty sad right?

And yeah, I have to accept that my awful mental health problems in addition to general health problems have drastically affected my lifestyle for the past 5 years but it is still disconcerting. It also means that it is difficult for me to work out. I don’t know what I can. Part of me thinks I’ll never lose these breasts. And what woman will take a man seriously when they have them?

Welcome to my life. 

Oh so low

I have to be honest with you guys. The last few days have not been good. In fact, they have been far from good. Depression has set in and it has set in hard. I don’t really know why I’m feeling the way I’m feeling but it’s there and I’m low, indecisive and generally unhappy.

Little things are bothering me like whether I should buy things or whether not to. Part of me thinks I should but the other side just doesn’t care. I’m not sure whethe my lack of enthusiasm for either option highlights the fact that it’s not worth it or that I’m just not coping with things. That’s the thing about depression though. People think you are just sad but it’s much worse. There is a massive feeling of lethargy, like I have a black cloud over my head where every moment I have by myself is something to fear.  I don’t even want to go to bed tonight. I don’t want to be by myself. But I also don’t want to be a burden to other people. I know if I said to my parents that I don’t want to be alone that they’d stay with me. It would piss my autistic brother off though as he needs to impose some form of control on the situation and at night time, he thinks we should be in bed and anything but that is explosive. You see, he is non-communicative and so if he can’t get himself across through signalling of some sorts, he gets upset. I don’t blame him. I would too but it can be hard, especially when dealing with my issues. I try my best though which granted is, at times, not all that much. But like I said, I really can’t put a finger on what it is that is exactly bothering me so much. I am just incredibly unhappy at the moment. Life is tough and right now I don’t want to try. 

Anyway,

I’m signing off for now. Take care everybody. 

D

Music and depression 

I don’t know whether you have ever experienced this. But something that I have noticed with me, especially during my darkest days was the way I used music to accompany my depression. And when I say accompany, I don’t mean to soothe or to relax me. I listen to the music almost as if I want to encourage my depression on. It’s like I’m saying “come on! Take me under”. And I don’t quite know why that is.

I have clear recollections of being at my lowest. That deep low that only depression can take you where you want to do anything to stop the pain. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. In fact, what I was doing was more like punishing myself. Picking songs deliberately that struck a chord. Songs that reflected my mood in ways that I could verbalise. Or songs that highlighted how I’m alone, heartbroken, distraught or a failure. I can remember when I was cheated on how I would purposefully play songs that reminded me of her. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It broke me down and I don’t quite not know why I did it. It deliberately caused me pain. Part of me thinks I did it because I thought I deserved the pain. I’m a failure and that I deserve this. So listen to the damn music.

And when I have been really low about other things. The same again. I’ve listened to songs about the futility in trying and giving up when I’ve just wanted to give up. Encouraging myself to push me over the edge. It’s a bizarre, dark road that I sometimes lead myself down.

These days I still hate myself. Nothing much has changed there. And the fact that I can’t find love hurts me dearly. I look at some people who are mean and cruel or other negative things and see them woman after woman and no one even looks at me twice. It’s probably because I’m ugly and fat although no one would dare say that to my face (well, actually one girl did but that’s another story!). But now, I try to avoid that music. Living with my illnesses is more than enough punishment without punishing myself more. Sometimes that means I don’t listen to music for a while. But it’s better this way.

Do any of you ever turn to dark music when you are down?

Dreading tomorrow 

So the weekend is nearly over and tomorrow is that time again where I have to return to work.  But I just don’t feel rested. My head hurts and I know come tomorrow I’m going to be exhausted before I even press a key.  Part of me hopes that rather I wake up soon from a bad dream and find out in fact that it is still Sunday morning. Eek!

My OCD has been a bit of a pain in the arse this weekend. Today for example, I changed my clothes more than a couple of times from fear of contamination and even had to wash my hair to go back to my bedroom. That’s never fun when you have to have a mini shower just to enter a room. I have regressed too which is so annoying. But yeah, today I had 3 or 4 clothes changes. A number of them were because I didn’t feel clean after going to the bathroom.  The bathroom terrifies me, especially as my autistic brother makes a habit out of weeing everywhere. And I know I shouldn’t complain because he is disabled but I can’t get the thought out of my head that I’m going to get some on me and trape it everywhere. I can’t live with that risk at the moment.  That being said, I even find using the toilet an anxiety provoking task and I spend ages washing myself down after using it. I can’t even pull up my trousers easily without fear of contaminating myself.  It makes every day a challenge and the last few years have been harder than ever as my OCD has got much worse over this period. 

And now I’m thinking about being single again and my depression kicks in. I was going to post a topic on one of my other blogs about things I’m attracted to but then I realised how futile that would be. Plus I don’t want to spend time thinking about things I’ll never have. I’m too fat to find love and too screwed up to ever fix my weight. I’m in a jail and the guard has gone home with the key. The best I can do is improvise within my four walls unless I have a visitor who can bring me some respite.  But man, would I like a girlfriend. And you know what? I think I’d be a pretty great boyfriend given the chance. But people don’t overlook things like weight or baggage, especially of the mental kind, do they? *sigh*

Did I mention I don’t want to go back to work tomorrow?

Made it to the weekend (huzzah!)

So the last couple of days have been interesting. After making it through Wednesday, Thursday ended up being a disaster. If it wasn’t for some pushing through, I probably would have spent the night sleeping on the old chair downstairs to avoid the possibility of “contaminating” my room. Got to be though so that’s definitely a major victory.

But today, as yesterday, has been hard. It doesn’t help that my OCD is coupled with generalised anxiety and major depressive disorder. I’ve been low. Pretty low. I have been fixating a lot on the fact that I’m single and for all intents have spent my life single, be it not for a couple of relationships that were internet based. People don’t count them though right? That’s a sad thing to do isn’t it? Yeah, I’m sure it is. 

Anyway, work was grooling today. I’m exhausted. I couldn’t wait till quitting time, even if that meant lots more cleaning to do. I have my nightly cleaning rituals. But I had a lovely dinner, even though I have the whole single thing stuck in my mind plus my autistic brother is acting very irregularly at the moment and it is worrying me a lot. He’s non-communicative and I’m scared that his change in mood is because of pain and he’s not able to tell us! I’m so frustrated. I just want to make it better. He’s limping (we think) so it might be that? I hope it fixes itself soon as I can’t stand the thought of him hurting and us not being able to help. 

Now I’m in my room. Rituals are done. Sadly I forgot to bring a bottle of water to bed and I’m reluctant to go and get one because I might contaminate myself. No thank you! Still I’m really thirsty. I think I’m going to play a game now. I started Alien Isolation last week and it is so scary. I’m afraid to play it at night. I considered going on my computer for a bit instead but I don’t want to contaminate my chair. Nope. Lying on my bed and playing sounds best, even if it scares me. At least I think.