I think I may have told you how I made I giant social faux pas? No? Well I did. I invited someone to stay at my house in November and thought it would be ok, but Dad vetoed it and I had to write a grovelling lying apology ‘Sorry we’re getting new flooring…’. The worst thing was the Dad bit. The person was a Professor we met on holiday who I got on with and talked about art too. I believe that she would not mind sleeping on our pristine sofa bed if it meant not having to rent a room in London. But Dad thinks the house is too much of a state. I promised to clear it, but he said no. He’s always said no, even when the house was not a state. I didn’t have birthday or other parties because my Dad doesn’t really like people in the house. He’s only ever let 1 of my friends stay here. My Brother used to bring home people every Friday night as a teen, and Dad was fine with it. In addition when it looked likely that my Cousin Gerard or my Brother would be living with us after their respective relationships fell apart, he quickly began to do rooms up.
Calm down Sarah, stop it, anger is not good.
Anyway, I made a faux pas. Wrote grovelling lie to sophisticated woman. Hid from e-mail fearing she’d hate me. Developed a sore in my nose*. Got my period. Had the second worse constipation of my life (the worst: I was hospitalized). Developed a stye**. Developed Angular Chelitis***. Had diahoerrea, in my pants, then another painful, lip-biting episode on the toilet. Sty burst. Developed a boil on my chin. And now I have piles. All in 5 days. 5. Days.
Which of the 4 Horsemen of Apocalypse brought this on? Well, anxiety. Anxiety brought this on. You see, e-mail can scare me. Some of the worst episodes of my life have evolved through or been connected to, e-mail. First time I was called a cunt was in an e-mail from a chap at university I thought was my best friend. He *liked* me. Being Autistic I didn’t know. He got angry. He sent me an abusive message. I got so terrified I couldn’t be in a room with him, and I had to report him to the college. I was expecting the Professor from Russia to call me a shameful liar. A cunt in nicer words. Other anxieties: my ex-boyfriend’s sister got married – I only found out through a Facebook update. I blocked any info – didn’t want to see photos. Some got through – but he was not in them. I’ve not heard from him since March- so I got worried. He’s not in any of the family photos. And he was mates with his sister’s Wife. He’s an avid photographer, so perhaps he was behind a lens somewhere. I fucking hope so. I hope he’s ok. But I know I can’t contact him. We didn’t ‘break’ – we faded. I was the only one contacting. He had no money on his phone, didn’t e-mail. I phoned and texted into a void. When I lost my voice from November (Dysphonia), and my hearing was also bad (SSCD) – it made contact difficult. But I kept on. Until March.
So I sit here wearing a vast panty pad, with an itchy, swollen rectum, a boil, a sty, a sore IN MY NOSE, palpitations….
Here’s a video from my youth to cheer you up.
*It’s like a cold sore, and is related to them. It’s fucking painful.
**I first got it in 2004. It’s not flared up in 10 years. I shit ye not. Now the big green bastard is teaching me a lesson.
***Cuts at the edges of my mouth. Yeah, I look swell.
No Canker Sores this time.