Diary entry. Perhaps?

Last year, in april 2020, a few things happened which resulted in me coming off social media. Partly due to the fact I refused to accept I shouldn’t have said or done certain things, most likely down to the lack of insight/awareness and also, because people didn’t bother guiding me, more misunderstood instead. There were friendships however, I would love to at least try and rekindle. One of these friendships, was one I will always think about, but my brain is conflicted. 2 lovely people had helped me on and off for 6 years with different things, psychology, social issues, emoji use, that is, the use of emoticons in writing. They also taught me more about video-gaming. Now I probably strike you as a very prim and propper person, but when I got the chance to play grand theft auto 5 on my friend’s playstation, it was great fun. How can one play it if you can’t see? You ask. It’s all about the buttons. Learning what each one does. If it has more than one function, but also, listening to the sounds around you in the game. For example, If you know GTA, you’ll know who and what I’m about to explain. So the city of losantos, is a fictional town, set in a mexican kind of community, with a lot of criminal activity. Gangs, drugs, etc. But the main point of the game is to run away from the police, or as they are known in the game, the cops. The losantos pd, or police department aren’t your conventional police force either. They will use any means there to catch you. In both land, or air. Sometimes, even sea. The good news for you, that is, your character in the game, is you have weapons and many of them at your disposal. The art is, learn which ones to use at different times and how quickly. So that’s the story virtually of the game, or at least, what you need to know. There are 3 characters. Michael, who’s a bit of a family man, but got in with the wrong crowd. Franklin, a loner kind of guy, of african american origin, and then, there’s trevor. Trevor is the most mad, excentric, psychopathic one of the lot. He takes drugs, is unauthodocs when it comes to getting rid of the coppers and is just totally mad. A kind of guy you need in the game, if loads of cops are on your tail. Now back to the main point. So how does a blind person play such an action packed game as this, to vent out one’s frustrations at the world. Well, you have to learn the remote first, by playing along with a sighted person, with them telling you what the buttons do, and of course, when to get rid of cops. After you’ve graduated from that level, you start to learn the surroundings. For example, if your character dies, you always reemerge outside losantos hospital. This is located just in the city centre virtually. Going off to the right, you have other slightly more busy streets, with the cinimar on one side and shops on the other. And, a lot of pedestrians, just waiting to get delt with. If your character is trevor that is. Or, if you go one step further, and play as yourselves online. If you keep going straight on after turning slightly to the right, you head for the freeway, better known to us as the motorway. This is a fun carnage sight.. Time to drive cars, vans, trucks, whatever you get your hands on, the wrong way up the freeway, or reverse down the carriageway. That is always fun. You can hear all the different sounds, which is very interesting. That’s mostly why I played it in the first place. Not to complete any missions or tasks, just to run round causing carnage. Well, now you’ve learned a little about how a blind person plays a videogame, we’ll go back to the main point of the post. Now I’m nearly 8 months into my therapy, I wish I could try and rekindle these friendships. Particularly with the people who helped me with psychology, took me to their lovely cottage, where they introduced me to different foods, Let me stroke baby chicks, As well as other things, including GTA. Hahaha! Well, I hope everyone is well. This is I suppose, more a diary entry, as well as educational post. I did forget to say, certain videogames are quite good for strategy like GTA, which is also good for getting the hang of virtual reality. It’s also good just for having a laugh, especially at the hilarious radio and fictional tv commercials. Have a good evening all.

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Covid is always a step ahead.

Lockdown again and still the virus is always ahead of us. We have a vaccine as our hope, our life-saver, our protector, however Covid is always a step ahead. Always mutating. Like an invisible army outnumbering us all the time; We are all struggling. For the shielders, we are shielding against an invisible storm. Against an invisible enemy, ready to ambush at any point. For this, we need protection. Like someone holding onto us, shielding us from the war around us. Walking through the war-zone, with bullets raining down from all directions. With us surrounded by their hands while they race through it to get us away from it. The comforting arms shielding us from view. Like someone saying to us, it’s okay. We’ve got you. We’re trying to keep you safe. The reassuring grip all too familiar. Not letting us be seen. If one wanted to compare it to that metaphor, or alternatively, we’re in a bubble. A bubble that can’t be burst. How long we remain in there, is up to covid. Covid doesn’t discriminate. It chooses who it wishes. Then we have no choice, but to go for the rough and terrifying ride. The vaccine would be compared to the cavalry coming to our aid. But for the shielders, we’re still stuck in the bubble. We’re just having to wait to be released. For us though, the protection is needed. Watching from the side-lines, as the battle carries on around us, while the casualties fall among us. There’s nothing we can do, but continue to fight. And fight hard we must. Everyone, please stay safe. Stay protected. Don’t risk your lives. Stay home.

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Covid, lockdown and my story.

Part 2 of the Covid, and lessons it can teach us.

Lockdown, where nothing was normal. The weather was the usual seasonally warm weather, hot, sunny… But something wasn’t normal about this year. People were isolated. Isolated from family, friends, colleagues. There was an unknown enamy, a virus that rips through the body, causing immense damage, leaving behind the souvenirs no one would want. Coming with it, the mental health difficulties. We were all in the same boat. Anxious about this unknown virus, worrying whether our loved ones or friends would die or not. Watching the deaths rise and with it, the cases too.

No noise was heard up the road from our house; No children playing in the school playground. Not much trafic was heard either. Just the sound of the birds, grass cutters, dogs sniffing, barking. Cats too. But you may ask why am I saying all this? Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve gone into my story about my brain injury in other posts, but have I actually told you what I experienced? How lockdown was for me? You may at this point, think yes, you have. I have yes, but in different prospectives. What I will also share, is the impact it has on other people too. At least, I will try. If anyone wishes to be a guest on my blog and write their lockdown stories, be it of covid, what is covid? How do you live each agonising day? What about being on the front line. You can find my email address in the contact part. But for now, here is my own prospective on our lockdown.

March 16th, and the island was going into lockdown. Covid had hit our shores. I at first thought, it’s going to be okay. I have facebook, twitter, the newspapers and I can talk to my friends via facetime. The first month went okay. The cases did start to rise steeply, from 30, to 43, up and up it went. April arrived and there it was, we were in the hundreds. But what was happening in doors? A disaster on social media was unfolding. I was angry and I suppose, worried. I was shielding but volunterily. I had not received the shielding letter, so I decided by myself to shield. That meant no going outside to say hi, nothing like that. The clapping for carers had started and by now, I was starting to embrace the lockdown spirit of the communities both across and over here.Helping people in their communities, supporting each other. Social distanced parties in the streets. But all over the world, covid was still reeking havoc. Destroying lives, damaging others profoundly, bringing hospitals to their knees. All you heard on both television and radio, was covid. It was taking over the globe. By mid april, the anger and outbursts had started to become out of control. I was angry, but what at? I was angry at such little things, Writing very negatively online. Not caring how I’d hurt others, because, at the time, I never quite understood what I was doing because of my own views and feelings, was impacting others. I never understood their own anxieties. I couldn’t empathise at all. At the end of April, I was plunged into my own desperation. I suddenly disappeared off facebook, twitter and other platforms, which incidentally, wasn’t many. Angry at myself, for getting angry at others, upset because of the almost daily rows and arguements, during what should be a period of coming closer, bringing people together, was for me, too much. Sitting in my room one night, I’d had enough. Everything at the time, was going from bad to worse. I’d just ended up in a severe rage, which I couldn’t control. I realised I’d done something, but why. Why did I do it? What is wrong with me. I wanted help! I needed it, but people just kept blaiming me. That it was my fault. Yes, I knew it was, but the fact was, I couldn’t explain why I was the way I am. Desperate for help I sat down on my bed, praying. But there too, was the feeling of ending it. Angry, depressed, devistated, frustrated, unanswered questions, anxiety, and guilt. I sat there, listening to everyone clapping the carers. Normally I’d be out joining them, but not tonight. I was instead, trying to stop myself hitting my head against my wall. Trying to stop myself overdosing on my meds. Trying to stop the feeling that I was no good to anyone racing round my head. Because every time, I messed up. Then, someone heard my call for help. Fast forward a few months on and look now. Back to my singing, back to social media. Getting on better with people. Going back to mass, as we are out of lockdown! Thank you all who have been on my very rocky journey. Thank you to those who still are with me. It means so much to be in the place I am in now. I’ve lost friends, but I’ve gained some too. Thank you.

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covid, friendships and the lessons it can teach us.

An hour glass takes us back 12 years. A younger me, is sitting in her bedroom, on a computer, browsing around on a social network for blind people. Finally, she met someone with similar interests. The weather, languages and many other things. The hour glass turns and fast forwards a year and the friendship is still going. This person, also like her, was helping her through difficult times in her life. Like wise, she with them. Many months passed, with many good and wonderful memories, along with it, came trauma and unexpected diagnoses. Epilepsy, outbursts that would shake the friendship to its core. But 2020, 12 years on, and the year of COVID. The pandemic that has changed many lives. Changed some, taken others. Shown us, just who is there for us? Who is beside us in our hour of need? In our darkest hours? Who is there to comfort us? Who is there to help us when we are ill, desperate, depressed, isolated? COVID also showed us how friends can be lost in almost a split second. Either through anger, through death from the virus itself, or through other things. In this case, COVID changed me. It has shown me the very depths of despair, of loneliness and of desperation. It has shown me the fact that I can grow, that I can help others, that I can learn more about myself. Has shown me its brutality, through the loss of friends. No-doubt it will show me the brutality of the illness too. It will probably show that to us all. It has shown us people can be nasty, do not show compassion and can sometimes abuse others. It has shown us protests in the streets, civil disobedience, as well as the brutality of what it leaves in its wake. But for me, for now, it is goodbye. Goodbye to a friendship for 12 years, but I do hope it will never be the end. For now, at least, it’s time to move on, but I do hope this pandemic will teach us one thing, peace, forgiveness, joy, that it can be had. That it should be had. I hope it will teach the art of care, of comforting the sick, grieving with those who have lost, comforting the dying in their last moments, looking after those in need, those isolating in their homes. I hope all in all, this pandemic will make us different people, when we emerge from the dark tunnels of COVID, into the light of a new, but distant, normality.

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acceptance and realisation

In order to start this post, we have to travel slightly back in time.

2011 and I was at a college in Hereford. So far, I’d been reported for doing stuff that society considered to be unacceptable. Not adjusting to change, for example when my friends wanted to do something else, I would get frustrated and annoyed, doing everything I could to sabotage their plans. I had had enough of being summoned to the office almost every single week. For one reason or another. What was going on? I can remember a few examples. But vaguely. I was brought in for many a strange thing, listening outside doors? Using the key in my corridor to enable me to get to my friend who was upstairs to talk to her. Speaking out of turn. But… What was out of turn? Not understanding why people did not like my views. Trying desperately to protect my friends when they were going into potentially bad situations. But what was protective and what was too far? Why did I protect her? Was it fear or was it the fact I could tell it wouldn’t be good for her? Or was it simply my experiences alone making me want to protect her.

I was having CBT with a counsellor, to try and figure these things out, but they were struggling. They were trying everything in their power to help me understand. I simply wasn’t understanding. I would agree with her on the techniques we tried, trying to remember how to do things better, or not to say things that would incriminate me or perhaps get me into trouble.. But there was just no getting through. Not there anyway. It was about the 10th time of being summoned. I walked in, knowing already that I was in for it. For starters, the manager did not like me and the feeling was mutual there. I did not like her either. Not at all. The usual start of the conversation was the whole spiel about doing what ever it was I’d been reported for. Then they’d ask me did I know that was wrong or did I know how that person would feel. I would say yes, but cry at the same time, perhaps because I felt some sort of remorse or because it was possible that I couldn’t understand but could not verbalise this? Or express it? A lot of the time, now looking back, perhaps I did not understand how what I was doing could have hurt people or how it was wrong. I thought people were getting at me, always on the attack. This time at college was about to change things. They assessed me for Aspergers, now known as high functioning autism. It turned out I did not have this, but was there something else? It would take almost a decade of sheer hell and trauma to find out the mystery to my behaviour and one that would be a shock to many, but a huge relief to me.

Again, we have to move slightly back and turn the hour glass just a few months before that meeting in late 2011. Summer of that year, and my friend had started to notice changes in me. He was on vacation and doing Russian homework at the same time. My brain perceived it as, if you are on holiday, why work? You should relax. My friend was not one for relaxing. His studies were important. Likewise are mine. This day would turn into a nightmare. One of many that would test our long-standing friendship to its very limit and push it over the edge, potentially breaking it for ever;

This day I flew into a rage, shouting at him, at the top of my voice, just because he was doing his homework. It culminated in his grandmother telling him to end the call. It took a while for me to calm. We didn’t think anything of it, but the rages and mood swings kept on coming. With ever more virulence.

Something was wrong, but we had no idea. No idea that a superstorm of electricity was building in strength in my brain; and when it came, it came with catastrophic consequences. That storm was epilepsy.

Now we return to late 2011 when the first seizure struck. It was a few months later, into 2012 when things were more noticeable. My behaviour was more destructive, my ability to understand the bigger picture as some call it, to empathise and reason, were impaired. The seizures were not frequent, but more came in 2012, 2014, 2017 and 2018. My impulsiveness was stronger and at times, destructive. The anger was worse, with violence. The relationship with my friend was strained. We were being tested to the limit, something was going to give somehow.. But what was all this? Why had this all happened? There was a cause. But what was the cause? At the moment people did not know.

In 2018, I had a neurologist appointment. Looking at my records, as previously mentioned in a post, he mentioned about a haemorrhage in my right hemisphere. I did not think I had one, until I was told by the GP that I had indeed, had a haemorrhage in my right hemisphere. This was also where my epilepsy originated. Before generalising.

I started then to wonder myself, was there a connection?

Then this year came, with lockdown. This year was also when the friendship with my friend was pushed over the edge. It was then that we made the connection between my brain injury and my epilepsy. Yes, my MRI scans are normal and show no evidence of the haemorrhage, but my GP informed me that it has left invisible damage to neural pathways and cognitive ability. The epilepsy has in fact, changed my personality and slightly affected my ability to empathise and reason. Now we know, what caused these rages and unexplainable moods. From the highs, to the severe lows. The lows that would make me feel suicidal. The lows that would make me not even realise I was feeling suicidal. Now my counselling has taught me to become more self aware of things, to employ more strategies, as well as joining some groups for people with brain injury. I am now very relieved as I understand my little quirks and how I can somewhat rectify them. I have a better support network of people around me, who remind me of my techniques and help me. Explain when I may be wrong and how that will impact others. It may take a while for me to understand but I am getting there. I am also going back to my studies of psychology with the OU. Open University. I have decided I would like to help others with ABI (Acquired brain injury) like myself and potentially go into the neurorehabilitation area of things. I have finally accepted it is my ABI with the epilepsy that has changed me. I can fix some of it, but not all. It’s the acceptance now that has to come from others, but it will come. Eventually. I will still be curious. I will still ask questions about my own brain, because I’ve always been curious about it, ever since my epilepsy developed. Hopefully now, this means my life will have changed for the better and I can move on, onto pastures new. As they say. To help others, not just myself. I do hope you enjoy reading my posts. I apologise for the lack of updates. May you all find something informative in my posts. Even though it may be hidden.

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Out of the darkness, into the light.

Last week, I tried an antidepressent, sertraline, as a last resort to try to calm the mood swings, rages and anger that I have at times. It comes so quickly i cannot recognise it in time. Eventually, it can lead to violence. I started the sertraline, feeling quite happy that day. I’d gone to the shops, and bought a pie to eat for lunch. After eating it, I got some of my favourite biscuits, molted milk. The chocolate covered ones. Sitting to eat them, I suddenly felt tired, my brain not focused. I did not like the biscuits, or want to eat them. Feeling dizzy, I went upstairs,. If i’m going to vomit, I need to be near the toilet, I thought. I suddenly froze at the top of the stairs, listening to the buzzing sound of the fridge in the kitchen. A loud, G in pitch. After standing for about a minute, frozen to the spot, I then went to my room, and lay down on my bed. The all too familiar, feeling of hot heat going up my spine, tingling in my fingers, and buzzing like a current of electricity was buzzing round my head like a circular loop. The sound of the fridge buzzing with it too, changing in frequency. Standing up to go to the bathroom, in case I was going to throw up, I tried to move, but couldn’t. I abruptly sat back on my bed, and turned onto my side. Struggling to focus, and to pay attention to anything. It was a seizure warning, known as an aura. A Tonic-clonic was possibly on its way. After about 5 or 10 minutes, it subsided. I thought, well, it’s just the sirtraline getting into my system. It’ll be fine. The next few days, were horrible. I started to struggle to swallow solid foods, known as dysphagia. My appetite was suppressed. The thought of solid foods made me feel sick. Yawning all the time, also made me feel nauseous. I was tired, and not with it at all. I then started having absence seizures, with each one lasting more than a minute in length. It all came to a peak on tuesday this week. That morning, I’d only eaten one mouth full of my two slices of toast. I was only taking in fluids, and liquid soups to sustain me. Something was very wrong, and we knew it. Ringing the surgery I tried to speak to a GP, but the nurse was very helpful and booked a 30 minute appointment so I could be weighed. Arriving there that afternoon, I was weighed. I’d not lost that much weight, but it did worry me a lot. The nurse sat down and we spoke about the sertraline. I then burst into tears. You’re really struggling, aren’t you. She said. I was. I knew this was not going to work. After a long discussion, in which she spoke to a duty gp, we agreed citalopram, known as Celexa in the US, would be more beneficial, as i’ve been on it before. As well as this, she agreed to change my asthma regime. We’re going to speak regularly for the next 4 weeks. There was a ray of hope. Sure enough, the next day, I was eating normally. I no-longer had the dysphagia issues, but I was given artificial saliva pastils just incase I was to have them again. As well as this, we now have the official go ahead with my therapy. The counselling is being paid for. AND we can now commence my therapy. This will be interesting. So while the last few days were filled with struggles and being in tempestuous waters, with gale force winds all around and currents sweeping me under water, I was now being rescued. Again. My SOS was heard, and I was found, and pulled from the waters to safety. If one wishes to use a metaphor there. I was now out of the darkness, and into the light. The light I cannot see, but the sound I can hear. The next few weeks and months will be interesting.

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What was happening to me?

I just thought I would give you a glimps into the journey me and my grandmother both followed to the ABI I have, without realising it.

All my life, I’ve had frustration, you may think that is normal, rage, normal, impulsiveness, hmm, normal? There were the little things, that people noticed that seemed odd. Certain things I’d do or say, but it was the last year, that really scared people, even me.

December 2019. A row that ended in frustration and violence. Not proud of that, but we now know why that is. My best friend speaks to me and stresses, he is struggling to keep going. In my brain, I’m thinking: What just happened? What happened over the last few hours? I can recall little bits of what happened, but not all. Bits of words, snatches of time, Snatches of certain things, sounds, etc. But now; The lows! The real bad downward spiral. The part you wish you weren’t around, the part you question why your friends are still standing by you. The part you don’t understand why people are mad at you. Why people are shouting, why people are blocking you on facebook, why trols are being trols; The bit you sit and hear time racing bye, at a speed of ferocity that you’ve not seen for ages. You sit on your bed, tears in your eyes, and still ask the question you’ve been asking for ages, when people keep saying the same thing, with anger and frustration in their voices. What is happening to me? Why am I like this? I don’t understand. Yet people ask the same things. Where is your compashion? Why are you speaking in that tone? Why are you being offensive? And so it goes on. And on, and on. Same old same old. There’s something, but I can’t find it. Argument after argument, anger episode after anger episode, asthma attack after attack. The events in every episode, blanked, blurry, with snatches of the event, but only short seconds. People ask me, what was said, who started it? Answers are still the same. I can’t remember… I don’t know… Yet, in these last few months, we’ve come to realise these episodes may be partly related to a brain injury I did not know I had. The small haemorrhage at a month old. Looking at the leaflets from headway has taught us so much. Taught me tips I do try my hardest to adheer too. Now, things are looking up. Yes, I still have the anger episodes, but they are much further apart now. I still have bad moments, and of course, one will. Brain injury is never a full recovery. It’s a recovery, to as much as one can recover. It’s learning, all the time. Neuroplasticity involved too. But you are not the only person learning, or following your journey. Your friends, carers, family are following it too. I’m hoping now the counselling I will receive, will help not just me, but others to understand me as well. For me to understand my ABI and learn when it’s playing up. Learn when it’s coming into play. To put the tips from the little booklets into practice. I hope you will all follow me on this latest adventure too. Another day tomorrow, another challenge I suppose. Another day coming out of lockdown from covid’s grip. We’ll see. I may just blog tomorrow about last Thursday’s social distance experience. Speak soon.

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counselling update.

So now we know. We know that the help I will get is geared directly towards the brain injury we now know i have. Yes, I will always emphasise this, my scans are now clear, but it could have left behind microscopic damage, that scans can’t pick up. The haemorrhage in question, was a ventricular haemorrhage that happened when I was only a month old. It happened in the right hemisphere, (side) of my brain. At 18 years-old, I developed epilepsy in the form of tonic-clonic seizures, which also originates in my right hemisphere. A few years later, I had a neurology appointment. He asked had I had a brain haemorrhage. I had said no, as I did not know I’d had it at the time of the appointment. After that, I was looking at the new app we have that tells us our medical records, test results, or medications. On there, I saw: Haemorrhage. Curious, I asked my gp, what was this haemorrhage? That was when he informed me, it was a brain haemorrhage. Surprised, I asked, Does this mean I have an acquired brain injury, also known as ABI. He said, technically, yes. After that, nothing more was really mentioned. I had an MRI scan, which came back clear, and showed no evidence of anything recent. My gp then told me, the old injury would have left its mark, but most likely in ways that scans can’t pick up. This is logical, and a few years after, it would perhaps, have explained the recent events.

All my life, we’ve thought, something’s not right, my nan informed me, after reading Headway’s leaflets on the affects of brain injury. She then stated, most of those behaviours I have. Impulsivity, intolerance, Unrealistic goles, Egosentricity, Reduced insight, (lack of empathy) Mood swings, anger, rage, Disinhibission. Commenting on things normal people, that is, people without any challenge, would not do. For example, commenting on why a person may have slurred speech, why they are smoking cannabis, and, out loud, stating they shouldn’t be. Another example, would be commenting on things on facebook, stating something I know to be true and logical, but that would not be something a person without challenges would say. As a result, all my life I’ve been judged, shouted at, told I was a… Insert expletive. Threatened, Reported for harassment, Have had people try to be friends, but then they run away. Ironically, I used to try and avoid people with the same things, such as epilepsy, or disability, A word I hate. But it’s come round in a full circle. Frustration is another affect of brain injury, which I also have. I do not have any of the physical affects, or things like that. However, most of the cognitive affects, excluding speech difficulties such as aphasia, or anything like that. I have a lot of the emotional affects also, but excluding some. Thanks to Headway, we now know why I’ve perhaps said, or done things i shouldn’t. Before people who read this think i’m making excuses, I’m not. I know i should not have said and done what I did, and that it was wrong. But at the time, I did not understand that. I did not understand why people would get mad or cross. What didn’t help my cause, is the nasty support worker I had at school, so ontop of this, I’ve had that to deal with also. A psychotherapist told me the other day, I was resilient. My response? Well, I had to be. Finally, I have got a counsellor who will hopefully help me to understand things better, and I have also applied for a brain injury identity card. As I said above, I’m not using this as an excuse, but I want to make a point. You see someone on fb being more brutal or blunt, it may not be the case, that they are being a genuine idiot. I think perhaps, such a card should be made for social media, a photo of a physical card you have, that can be pinned to your profile, stating: Something like: I may not understand things, and potentially misinterpret something. I have an acquired brain injury. I am having counselling, and getting techniques to help me with this. These are: Then a list of them. If you see a case where this is happening, please remind me of the appropriate technique. Or something along those lines. I have also switched my OU degree back to psychology, as knowing what I know now, may just give me the tools to help others. At least, that’s what I hope. On this lovely day as I write this post, I’m sitting in the garden, with the sun on my face. I’m also hearing the birds, sirens, and other people doing their gardening. For now, I will finish this post, and allow for reading. I know now, that things are looking up, and by the end of the year, I will be able to share my blog on facebook and twitter once more, but that depends, on how my counselling goes, and of course, how my brain takes the adjustments. I think so far, it’s taken them well, but… We’ll see on that one, Haha! Speak to everyone later then. Enjoy the weather.

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You think you’re helping but you’re not?

As a blind person, and someone with little experience of how people understand things, it’s hard for me at times. I see something, for example I see the need of someone if they don’t have a type of technology, if they’re not getting listened too by someone and I know they should be. I know this isn’t good for that person, and I want to help them. I know they need that piece of tech or that people need to listen to them, so I fight for that to happen. I tell that person they need a braille-note for example. Or I go to the place they work at, and tell them this person needs the braille-note. That in my eyes, I see, is helping them. To compound to the issue further, a person then says: Why do you think they need the braille-note? Because I see they need it, because it will help them to read. Is my response. So why then, do people perceive it the wrong way? People tell me to look at it from their point of view. I can’t; I don’t know how. It’s very strange to be honest. My brain seems to work in different ways, and over the years, parts seem to have changed further. Perhaps it’s because I don’t have as much confidence when it comes to social skills? Perhaps, it’s because of the epilepsy? I genuinely have no idea. I’m hoping though, that my counsellor, who specialises in adjusting to things, and other areas, will help me. I’m hoping she will help me to see things from other peoples’ prospective. I suppose, there will have to be some kind of miracle. People expect 95% or higher. We’re not perfect, so you cannot expect this. It will be interesting when I update everyone on how my counselling is going. You may see changes even then with my writing. It will be interesting.

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psychotherapy update

This is not a huge long post, but more an update. I had my psychotherapy assessment. The lady was lovely. We talked for about half an hour. About various things. She reckoned I have PTSD and also suggested counselling rather than CBT. CBT did not work for me in the past, so perhaps counselling would. I wonder what type it’ll be. Rogerian? Who knows. I want to say thank you to those who are supporting me and staying by my side throughout this journey. The people who will join me on the journey in the future. There will probably be many people to meet, but we shall see.

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