Misery Memoir - why I don't like BL
Warning: mentions some pretty nasty stuff including a non-explicit mention of violence.
I was homeless in Nottingham in 2000, with my then three-year old daughter. I was there because my ex had chucked me and my daughter onto the street¹, and a guy that I met at a Mayday riot offered to put me up (none of the local councils took responsibility for me). I was hypomanic at the time, so I seemed fun for a few minutes, but a nightmare after a few days. The guy chucked me and my daughter onto the street; he kept my mostly worthless belongings that he had transported up to Nottingham until I had somewhere to put them². I squatted a flat that appeared empty. It was furnished and cosy, and so I used those furnishings. Unfortunately, the tenant of the flat was in prison (I read some of his mail), and had picked up lice on one of his previous stays or something like that. The lice were in the blanket I and my daughter used. This was not the only hazard in the flat. There was a weapon³ which I chucked in the river. I allowed a Big Issue vendor to stay, and he jacked up first thing in the morning in front of me and my daughter. Woah.
I met another guy, and he put me and my daughter up for a night. The next day, I criticised his décor, and violence occurred. Rather a lot of violence. I got out, rather thankful to be alive. After a short stay in a refuge, I fled to London, scared that the violent guy would find me. I left all my possessions in Nottingham, and I eventually lost the contact details of the first guy. I prized my life over those possessions.
I had heard that Camden Council were good, so I went to them and they housed me and my daughter in a bed & breakfast for homeless people. It was there that I discovered that we both had lice. I only had a few changes of clothes for both of us (I had bought them second-hand after returning to London with only the clothes we were both wearing). We had no access to a washing machine at the B&B and I had limited money for a laundrette. Whatever I did, I couldn't get rid of the body lice, particularly on my daughter. I can't remember how, but I ended up in psychiatric hospital with the lice. I was there a couple of weeks before I told anyone. I infected a friend of mine in there. I lost my daughter to the care system, and eventually to adoption.
¹ This is complicated, I could go into it another time.
² I didn't get somewhere to put them for a *long* time, so I lost all my possessions.
³ Er, you know, the really dodgy kind.
I was homeless in Nottingham in 2000, with my then three-year old daughter. I was there because my ex had chucked me and my daughter onto the street¹, and a guy that I met at a Mayday riot offered to put me up (none of the local councils took responsibility for me). I was hypomanic at the time, so I seemed fun for a few minutes, but a nightmare after a few days. The guy chucked me and my daughter onto the street; he kept my mostly worthless belongings that he had transported up to Nottingham until I had somewhere to put them². I squatted a flat that appeared empty. It was furnished and cosy, and so I used those furnishings. Unfortunately, the tenant of the flat was in prison (I read some of his mail), and had picked up lice on one of his previous stays or something like that. The lice were in the blanket I and my daughter used. This was not the only hazard in the flat. There was a weapon³ which I chucked in the river. I allowed a Big Issue vendor to stay, and he jacked up first thing in the morning in front of me and my daughter. Woah.
I met another guy, and he put me and my daughter up for a night. The next day, I criticised his décor, and violence occurred. Rather a lot of violence. I got out, rather thankful to be alive. After a short stay in a refuge, I fled to London, scared that the violent guy would find me. I left all my possessions in Nottingham, and I eventually lost the contact details of the first guy. I prized my life over those possessions.
I had heard that Camden Council were good, so I went to them and they housed me and my daughter in a bed & breakfast for homeless people. It was there that I discovered that we both had lice. I only had a few changes of clothes for both of us (I had bought them second-hand after returning to London with only the clothes we were both wearing). We had no access to a washing machine at the B&B and I had limited money for a laundrette. Whatever I did, I couldn't get rid of the body lice, particularly on my daughter. I can't remember how, but I ended up in psychiatric hospital with the lice. I was there a couple of weeks before I told anyone. I infected a friend of mine in there. I lost my daughter to the care system, and eventually to adoption.
¹ This is complicated, I could go into it another time.
² I didn't get somewhere to put them for a *long* time, so I lost all my possessions.
³ Er, you know, the really dodgy kind.