I’m trapped in this do a post or don’t do a post, like trench warfare neither side is winning Nightime meds dropping from the sky lulling me to sleep. It’s 22.45 here. Not late but not early either. I have an aching need to have a drive but where too is beyond me. Think that loops back to the previous post and not remembering what I need to do.

I had some news from the housing officer today, due to concerns about my mental deterioration and increasing self-harm they have removed me from the family unit and put me in a motel. Its style is a 1960s prison with a dash of refugee center. Which is a polite way of saying its fucking awful. I managed to swipe some bags of tea and coffee to amuse myself but sadly I’m on the last sachet now. I can hear people shouting down the hall, crying coming from outside, and a very not-nice atmosphere. That said, the tablet (not the medicinal kind) and typing are making things better. The door has a bolt on it so will be safe tonight.

I guess D is right. I did bring things on myself. Becoming disabled does that. That must be why so few people voluntarily become disabled o.0

I won’t go into more details as to who did what and who didn’t do what because I don’t want to be petty so all I’ll say on the matter is I’m safe, I’m driving back tomorrow at 9am for the day, then presume I’m coming back here at 10pm. Makes sense, I have my own space then for nighttime. Better than a sofa. Apparently, I’m not stable to be around the kids so have to leave at 3.30pm. Amazing. Just plain amazing. And now if I self-harm because of being told that? then I become unstable. And you have yet to ever see me truly unstable.