How Very Byronic

Adventures of a disabled autistic writer. Adventures is a strong word.

[howverybyronic]

Me whenever I say i'm in pain bc of my disability:

friend, family member, random person, etc...: you know what you should try?

Me: hoe don't do it

Them: you should definitely look into yoga! its benef-

Me: oh my god

[howverybyronic]

Stop! Shower time!

It’s 9 days since I started my experiment to see if I can live happily without skin and haircare products, for reasons of time, money, disability and smashing capitalism.

So far I’d say it’s a lot easier than I’d imagined.  I am only washing my hair with water, and my skin with water and a bit of coconut oil for blemish control and moisturiser.  There is meant to be a transition period for both hair and skin, when for a week anywhere up to six months, it gets greasier and greasier until suddenly it realises it is over-producing oil to compensate for drying chemicals which aren’t there anymore, and then you are allegedly left with the best hair and skin you’ve ever had.

One week in, and I’d say my skin’s adapted pretty well.  It’s more dewey and soft than ever, and while I wouldn’t say it was porcelainy-flawless, I think it’s free of major blemishes right now.  And this just for using coconut oil and water.  I call that a win.  (I’m also trialling coconut oil for oral hygiene and immune-boosting properties.  According to most corners of the internet, coconut oil is not only high-protein, vitamin-intense, delicious coffee-creamer, anti-aging cream, organic lube and massage oil, it also looks good in jumpsuits and is the latest incarnation of the Buddha.)

My hair, while suffering the same fate, is not doing terribly well.  It is still coming out in clumps, like it often has done since I got fibro, and it is about greasy enough to hold itself in a ponytail.  Most estimates from other water-washers say that a hair transition is about six weeks and can be up to six months for the full effect.  Then again, some people never get the full effect.  I sincerely hope I do.  It would be so freeing.  I’m only able to drag my sore self into the shower about once a week, and it would be great if I could be one of those people who only need to wash their hair that often because they’re so attuned to nature and blah blah.

Come on hair, do it! 

[howverybyronic]

Soap-free, shampoo-free, gluten-free

Yes, I have transformed into one of those people who believes that particles are permeating our skin and getting clogged in the lymph pathways and making us sick.  For years I’ve rolled my eyes at this notion, and said “Chemicals are specifically designed to do what they do, therefore they must be good at it!”

What changed?  Well for years I’ve been using bio oil to er, well to ameliorate my self harm scars.  This month I spent a few days slapping it on like there was no tomorrow because I had a date coming up, and wanted to be as touchable as possible.

After three days, I broke out in an immense rash.  I actually thought I had psoriasis.  My whole chest and arms (the places that I deemed most likely to need to be touchable) were a red, bubbly, bleeding mess.

And this reminded me of something.  It reminded me of what happened after my doctor recently told me I was allergic to gluten:  I had never particularly felt worse off after eating gluten, but I gave it up anyhow, and found I felt a lot better.  A week or two later I was stuck in one of our country’s 5 hour waits to see an emergency doctor and the only thing I could find to eat in this time was a sandwich.  I knew it contained gluten, but I couldn’t leave the waiting room or I would miss my turn, and, I thought it was a small blip on a long road.  Not so.  Immediately I started feeling bleary, like I was very sick or very drunk. My stomach swelled up and hurt.  In an hour or two, my limbs became sore and stiff.

What I learned was a) not to eat sandwiches unless I am trapped in the desert and b) that one’s sensitivity to things we’re allergic to increases when we are no longer used to them.

And that, I think, was what had happened with the Bio Oil.  It had always been bad for me, but my body struggled on thinking it had no option.  Then when it had been without the oil for a while, a reintroduction made it go “Fuck that noise!”  It made me seriously think what else I am burdening my poor immune system with and I don’t even know it.

In other news, as my illnesses wind on, I am less and less able to maintain things like cleanliness.  My ability to get a shower is now roughly once per week.  It’s grim, but not as grim as I would have imagined when I was showering every day.  Anything to make the process easier would be welcome.

So I started to think about being soap-free and shampoo-free.  What a turn up it would be if sitting under the shower head was all that was required to keep clean!  What a liberation it would be to not be constantly renewing expensive lotions and potions and participating in the capitalist struggle to find better and better beauty products.  How great would it be to not feel that your body was naturally dirty and needed chemicals to correct nature?

According to no-soap converts, it is true.  According to no-shampooers, it is true, but there’s a grimy greasy conversion while your hair re-adjusts and it takes SIX WEEKS for its own self-cleaning oils to kick in.  Fun.

I started yesterday: I took a shower, slathered my skin in coconut oil and rubbed my hair under the water.  As of now, my skin feels and looks better than usual, even the blemishes are minimised.  My hair looks pretty normal, but feels a bit thick and gummy.  Hmm, only six weeks to go...

[magicalrocketships]

I STILL LIKE YOU EVEN WHEN YOU’RE SAD: something that bears repeating. Your intrinsic value as a human isn’t diminished just because you’re depressed. You are worthy of love, even though you feel unloveable. I swear. 

[micdotcom]

The “Hitachi Magic Wand Throughout Art History” is the empowering Tumblr we never knew we needed 

Behold: magicwandarthistory, a Tumblr that marries classic works of art with the Hitachi Magic Wand vibrator. The goal of the blog is to celebrate and destigmatize female masturbation through art. Because as its creator explains, “[the wand] deserves to be elevated to a higher level.”

[bons-sonos]

This is unbelievably perfect.

[howverybyronic]

Epiphanies one has in the sun

1. I live in my own beautiful house 2. I am growing many many different plants in my garden 3. Next week I will see three days straight of other companies performing my writing 4. Financial stability 5. At long last, I have probably finally survived the worst days of my life. 6. People come and go, and that's fine. 7. If nothing works out, it doesn't really matter.

[howverybyronic]

On the death of Charles Kennedy

Anyone else quite uncomfortable with the speculation around Charles Kennedy's death? Journalists and other commentators seem to be making it a foregone conclusion that he died from alcohol-induced illness, but I find that pretty inappropriate at this stage.

Sure, it might well come out that he died as a suicide or from liver-failure, etc, but you can't just go around linking a person's one perceived floor with their death without knowing. People die for thousands of reasons and it seems to me so smug to assume that this one problem we know he had was definitely what he died from. I think it speaks volumes about their fear of death and disgust at addiction that they need to other this man's death and make it seem like a self-inflicted tragedy to tut at, rather than accept the fact: we all die. And even if someone dies at a young age, or from substance abuse, they don't end up any deader than anyone else. There is an arrogance in assuming why someone died, and in blaming them or "their demons" for it - especially without knowing how he died. Don't blame him for dying, we all die.

[howverybyronic]

Untitled poem for a friend

“Hello my dear, and how are you?

I’ve had better times it’s true,

But what a joy to see old faces, half-forgotten from former lives

and laugh over past disgraces from decades when we felt alive

And games we won and loves we lost and other adolescent dross from long ago -

But anyway, how are you?

The play was wonderful don’t you think?  

I don’t want to go home, let’s have a drink,

Down to Camden, not Leicester Square - my unrequited love works there.”

All this in one breath I said,

Away from the theatre I led 

My friend from university

Who now works for a charity.

Pale as a ghost and dark as sin,

Concurrently playful and maudlin,

No different than you’ve always been.

You stirred inside me something lost,

Taken from me at a cost

Great and irreplaceable - I think it’s called a friend.

[howverybyronic]

“And thus the heart will break yet brokenly live on”

~ Lord Byron

[howverybyronic]

Caleb: and other short stories eBook: Tess Humphrey: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

Achievement unlocked!

[imninm-deactivated20160505]

[howverybyronic]

Watching programmes like Britain's Benefit Tenants and How to Get a Council House make me so glad for my flat. I was in their situations living out of a backpack on the charity of friends, but I guess I've been one of the lucky ones. Although it's a council flat, it's in a peaceful area of my favourite city, and it's a proper building rather than a cardboard box with a roof on it. I live downstairs from a quiet old man and I have a wheelchair ramp for if/when the time comes. Did I mention it's opposite the Rowntrees factory and frequently smells of chocolate?

[howverybyronic]

Day 2 of Red My Lips!  Today I meant to do something fancy, but I have fibro that affects my hands very badly and it turned out I couldn’t do my hair and makeup, so today turned into candid selfie day.  The affect of disabilities on personal grooming is something that’s overlooked, I guess because able people often/usually don’t acknowledge the sexuality of disabled people so don’t think that we don’t necessarily want to look like a bundle of blankets with roots showing and pasty skin.  I was a hot and high-maintenance mama before I got fibro.  But your relationship with your body changes when you get sick, you know?  Beauty is a luxury.  Before you can ask “Do I do enough exercise?” you have to ask “Can I move?”  Before you ask “Should I do some makeup?” you have to ask “Can I use my hands?”

I am sort of 75% bedridden, so I knew doing red lips every day for a month was going to be a challenge.  But I’m doing it to raise awareness (and money?) for charities that support victims of rape and sexual assault.  The initiative was started by http://www.redmylips.org/ but I am adding https://www.idas.org.uk/ and http://survive-northyorks.org.uk/donations/ who were very good to me when I needed them.

If you can’t donate, be a peach and give me a share.  Peace out.

[howverybyronic]

Red My Lips, Day 1.  To donate, go to: https://www.classy.org/fundraise/edit?fcid=438507

[kindlecoverdisasters]

“…you’ve got one of my covers… and I did NOT give you permission to use it. It is copyrighted material. Please remove it at once, as you are in violation of copyright law. The cover is THE BEST LAID PLANS.”

Hi, James. I’m sorry you perceive my reposting your book cover as copyright infringement. By way of apology I’ve used a photo of you I found on your author’s page to make you into a kick-ass Robocop. I trust this matter is now brought to a close.

Yours sincerely,

Kindle Cover Disasters

[howverybyronic]

/ded

[misandry-mermaid]

“Crazy” is one of the five deadly words guys use to shame women into compliance. The others: Fat. Ugly. Slutty. Bitchy. They sum up the supposedly worst things a woman can be. What we really mean by “crazy” is: “She was upset, and I didn’t want her to be.”

Men Really Need to Stop Calling Women Crazy - Harris O’Malley (via iwillesv)

[howverybyronic]

and Life Goes On.

So.  I was sexually assaulted by someone I loved a few weeks ago.  The police took it seriously, but it seems they can’t put him in prison because of there being no other witnesses.  

It’s a heartbreak and a headfuck to know that he’s out there free to do it again and again and again.  One only hopes that those girls will go to the police too.

After running the gamut from fear to suicidal depression, I try not to think about it.  

I hired a psychic to tell me if he was sorry.  “He’s not remotely sorry,” said the psychic, and whether that’s worth anything is another story.

Today I’ve been thinking about the point at which one moves from being a victim to a survivor.  I was raped at the age of 13, and I think it took until I was 19 or 20 for that to stop being a definitive part of my character, and become something had happened, rather than was.  If that were the case again this time, I would be 30 by the time I recovered.  

However, there is so much more help available for grown women than for 13-year-old girls (although it’s a terrible indictment of the way we do things).  But four days after it happened this time, I was speaking to the police, being promised that if nothing else, the attacker would be scared out of his mind when the police came for him, and referred to the Independent Domestic Abuse Service.  

The ease with which we understand what happened is also important in how we overcome it.  And of course, we have to realise that we will never fully know why it happened, or why it happened to us.  I will probably never see my attacker again, but even if I did, I could look him in the eye and say “Why did you do it?” and still I would have no way of knowing if what he said was true.  I replayed it to myself hundreds of times, trying to grasp what (the actual fuck) had happened - was it an attack made in anger, sexual frustration, a demonstration of power, a reminder of my helplessness?  A simple feeling that his orgasms were the centre of the universe?  I spent weeks chewing these over, until I found an interpretation that sits right in my brain.  As a child, I never found any such interpretation.  That attacker was simply a violent and desperate paedophile - not that I could see that at the time.  At the time I took it very personally, it was a puzzle to be fixed: what had I done to deserve it?

Maybe the survival took so long because I needed the age to see him as a vicious paedophile, rather than a hapless victim drawn into my terrible aura of sexuality.  Hopefully that would mean that this will be a shorter road.