"freida"
Years back I worked at a daycare centre for people with learning disabilities. This was during the last summer of the 90s. I'm 21. At the I was blackly depressed. I was struggling coming to terms the adult world and feelings. I saw no point in anything and was sure I was about to be expelled from uni. I guess we're also in the last throes of my old eyeliner drenched Manics obsession here - its about the time I started getting a lot more into industrial and hardcore.
I was rilly depressed. I was drinking like a bastard and I'd been binge eating. I'd always had a high metabolism and I burned fat off just like that. Then one morning woke up and I was 17 stone and I had stretchmarks like the San Andreas faultline all over my limbs. No-one had ever loved me and I was convinced that no-one ever would and though in fact the whole love thing was a simple con. People just lied to themselves, each other and everyone else just to keep going..........if people told themselves the truth about themselves and everything else even for a few
I started to go on a bit of a health kick. I used to run 4 miles to work everyday.
I had a cool boss. She was an old punk and had a certain kind of weird intelligence that I buzzed off, she got me into Bauhaus and the Killing Joke. If only she was 10 years younger I kept thinkin. Over and over if only she was 10 years younger.........if only........then I'd probably overthink everything and do nothing at all.........
My colleagues were all nice people. They weren't too bright for the most part, minus maybe one noble exception but at least they accepted me when the rest of the world didn't give a damn. I spent my days running art and drama classes and playing football with people with Downs Syndrome. Coffee was always on tap.
I remember one service user telling me how much he was looking to going to Blackpool at the weekend. All he wanted to talk about the whole week before. They found him dead in his bed on the morning of the trip.
Theres more detail I could add, crushes, sensations, hatreds but theres one thing I remember about that whole time.
I had one colleague, Freida. She was Austrian but she spoke near perfect English. She was married to one of the centre managers. She told me about she used to know Falco of "rock me Armedeus" fame. I mention he got wiped by a car. She looked like she was going to cry.
On one occasion we were talking about how depressed and angry I felt. How the adult world sucks and how everything was just so shafted and useless and would never get better. She said to me "I used to feel the exact same way as you, but I've found this man and he loves me so much and he's so wonderful and he makes life worth living". She was referring to her husband.
My father knew her husband. He'd told me some weeks earlier that he'd been held up at gun point in St Petersberg and stripped of all the worldly possessions that he had on him while doing a tour of the local whorehouses. They then marched him back to his hotel room, gun in back and cleaned that out totally too.........
I put on a fake smile and nodded my head and told her that she was probably right and muttered something about "one day". My forced fake smile nearly tore my face in two.
I wore a forced smile for the rest of the day, made various banal jokes I knew would illicit a moderate smirk from my colleagues, went home and got drunk.
I was rilly depressed. I was drinking like a bastard and I'd been binge eating. I'd always had a high metabolism and I burned fat off just like that. Then one morning woke up and I was 17 stone and I had stretchmarks like the San Andreas faultline all over my limbs. No-one had ever loved me and I was convinced that no-one ever would and though in fact the whole love thing was a simple con. People just lied to themselves, each other and everyone else just to keep going..........if people told themselves the truth about themselves and everything else even for a few
I started to go on a bit of a health kick. I used to run 4 miles to work everyday.
I had a cool boss. She was an old punk and had a certain kind of weird intelligence that I buzzed off, she got me into Bauhaus and the Killing Joke. If only she was 10 years younger I kept thinkin. Over and over if only she was 10 years younger.........if only........then I'd probably overthink everything and do nothing at all.........
My colleagues were all nice people. They weren't too bright for the most part, minus maybe one noble exception but at least they accepted me when the rest of the world didn't give a damn. I spent my days running art and drama classes and playing football with people with Downs Syndrome. Coffee was always on tap.
I remember one service user telling me how much he was looking to going to Blackpool at the weekend. All he wanted to talk about the whole week before. They found him dead in his bed on the morning of the trip.
Theres more detail I could add, crushes, sensations, hatreds but theres one thing I remember about that whole time.
I had one colleague, Freida. She was Austrian but she spoke near perfect English. She was married to one of the centre managers. She told me about she used to know Falco of "rock me Armedeus" fame. I mention he got wiped by a car. She looked like she was going to cry.
On one occasion we were talking about how depressed and angry I felt. How the adult world sucks and how everything was just so shafted and useless and would never get better. She said to me "I used to feel the exact same way as you, but I've found this man and he loves me so much and he's so wonderful and he makes life worth living". She was referring to her husband.
My father knew her husband. He'd told me some weeks earlier that he'd been held up at gun point in St Petersberg and stripped of all the worldly possessions that he had on him while doing a tour of the local whorehouses. They then marched him back to his hotel room, gun in back and cleaned that out totally too.........
I put on a fake smile and nodded my head and told her that she was probably right and muttered something about "one day". My forced fake smile nearly tore my face in two.
I wore a forced smile for the rest of the day, made various banal jokes I knew would illicit a moderate smirk from my colleagues, went home and got drunk.