122 - A God, Imperative

Lin

Today's blog is likely to be the most controversial thing that I'll ever write.

And before anyone says anything, no, I'm not mad, I've just found some serious causality shit going on and now I've realised how ironic it is that everyone who harmed me was basically calling me selfish.

So I've figured out now that a lot of what's happened (especially horrible things) in what places I know to be my ancestral lands, has happened as a result of attacks directed at me and my family spiritually, as well as general attacks and hailstones dropped on me and my wellbeing.

Now, hear me out. Bloodlines and homelands are very often intrinsically connected, especially if you are a God - and so if someone decides to level shit at you and therefore make it harder for you (and potentially your family) to do certain jobs, more often than not, your people will suffer for it.

Which also explains why rickmansworth made a point of throwing vitriol at me and abusing me in the first place.

It was an insidious attempt to undermine me as a God, because he couldn't simply get rid of me. Using ancestral means to bring a God down is one of the most impactful ways to do that.

Funnily enough, I got all of this information from trying to interpret a tarot and oracle card reading about Syria.

You would think that I would've gotten a general outline of the situation spiritually, but it seems like my ancestors and spirit guides wanted to use this as an example for me to open myself up to receiving help in the physical. Which honestly, explains a lot.

My entire day has been full of this - readings telling me to take better care of myself, and to ask for the help I need.

I've also realised that the mental health practitioner I've been assigned to may not be the best to advise me on what help to get, given her lack of understanding surrounding how my being neurodivergent affects what therapies are accessible to me and would help me change my behaviours the most.

To give her credit, she did give some good points about how it can change behaviour.

But evidence based therapies have been known not to stick for neurodivergent people, and so I feel there needs to be some kind of consensus about how therapy is offered to neurodivergent people. 

It also seemed like she didn't believe that I have C-PTSD, which, given my response to what bin boy did, is very strange.

The isolation, whilst imposed by my own mind, was triggered by an incident surrounding an abusive person enacting behaviours that have picked at severe trauma that I already have. If my behaviour isn't a prolonged trauma response, and not at all linked to PTSD, then I don't know what is.

Given her reaction, I think I'll do some research about potentially getting a proper diagnosis.

Right now, my mental health is important - and I want my opinion on how I view my own mental health, as well as my past and safety, to be accepted by those I choose to consult.

She seemed to want to give the benefit of the doubt to mrs voldy at one point, too, which I immediately said no to, because I know well enough to know that her refusal to let me travel to Camden wasn't about safety.

Had safety been an issue, she would have treated voldy jnr with the same kind of restriction, which she did not.

Not to mention that I almost got sexually assaulted whilst with them, and when I used speaking to voldy jnr to get out of the situation, instead of being left alone about it, I got told off for 'putting her in danger'.

For starters, this man was practically up my arse, so I had nowhere to go or stop. Furthermore, he was about voldy jnr's height and build, and voldy jnr definitely could have taken him, given her meagre but useful military training. So she was in less danger than I was anyway.

When I asked what I should have done in the situation instead, I got a very hesitant, shaky answer of 'you should have waited for us'.

How the fuck was I expected to wait when someone was literally about to fucking sexually assault me in the street? Or potentially worse? 

Keep in mind that the area I grew up in was basically a slum.

The voldys had used my safety as an excuse before, but the moment that happened, I understood that this excuse was merely a strawman to coerce me into giving up my independence to satiate themselves.

My entire point is that they could've helped, but they chose not to.

And this mental health practitioner assumed, after I had told her about the abuse, that these people had wanted to keep me safe.

I've noticed something about myself when I'm with these kinds of people - I struggle to fully express myself, because whenever they say something triggering to me, my entire mind goes blank whenever I try to reach for context.

Context which would usually justify my reaction.

I want to give her another chance, but I'm wary.

To me, it's very clear that she's neurotypical.

Add the fact that she laughed at the song by the guy from one of the music therapy sessions who rapped/did spoken word about finding his brother dead from alcohol poisoning, and she's kind of a subtle walking red flag.

Terrence wraps his arms around me.

Yeah, I think I'll only see her for one more session.

He sighs.

Yeah lovely, that's probably a good idea.

As he takes a seat, he pulls me into his chest, bundling me and himself in the throw together. Manny walks in and chuckles, shaking his head.

You two are all over each other.

Terrence grins.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Still smiling, Manny snags a decent seat on the other side of me.

And I agree - that lady might mean well, but it doesn't mean she's doing well.

I nod. 

Well, she's only a practitioner, so I can choose at any point to remove her if her way of doing her job doesn't benefit me. I'll let our third meeting decide how to proceed.

Manny nods.

That's a good way of thinking of it, lad.

He ruffles my hair, then turns his attention to Terrence.

I've got to cook. Take care of them for now, will ye?

Terrence's embrace gets slightly firmer.

Of course.

Manny takes his leave to the kitchen, and Terrence gently coaxs me to sit up just enough that we can both see each other's faces in full.

Are you ok to eat, lovely?

I nod cautiously. He rubs my shoulders.

Don't push yourself too hard, alright? If you can't, it's nothing to be ashamed of, ya?

Ya.

Great. 

He runs his hands through my hair.

I'm staying right here.

At that, I can't help but smile.

Trugarez, ma kared.