I’ve been gambling again. Sigh. I am not letting it get me down though. I called a gambling help line and they gave me the number of a free gambling counseling service. I called them and registered my interest in being seen. They have a team meeting on Friday and will allocate me to a counselor then. They said they will call me to set up an appointment. I have to stop and it looks like I can’t do it without help so I’m going to get that help – I hope.
I got a letter from the victims of crime people today saying I am allowed to see the counselor of my choice. The letter says what the counselor has to do to claim money for seeing me. Now I have to make an appointment with my doctor to get a referral to the counselor she is recommending who has experience treating post traumatic stress.
I will then have two counselors – one to address my gambling problem and one to help me with my post traumatic stress disorder.
It will feel strange to be listened to instead of being the one doing all the listening.
The other night I provided some amusement for one of the people living in these flats. I got home at 2am from work and went to check my mail. As I walked down the path to the mailboxes a man on the top floor of the flats called down to me.
“Just getting home from work are you?” he said.
I looked up to say yes and ask if he was too and lost my footing. Came down hard on one knee then fell sideways onto my shoulder. I looked up. He was laughing but he did ask if I was OK. I said I was fine but I wasn’t. Just then another man came up the path and he also asked if I was OK. I said I was but I wasn’t.
My right knee has been dodgy for months. It only hurts if I go upstairs (or try to get up off the ground!). Naturally, that was not the knee I fell on, so now I have two sore knees. I really was not sure how I was going to get up. The second man picked up the bag I dropped and stood waiting to help me up but I could not bring myself to reach out for his hand.
I sat up and forced my knees to do their job and get me to my feet without help. I did not want to be touched. Sigh. Not even to be helped. That is something I am going to have to work on – that instinctive recoil when people I don’t know try to touch me. I hope I didn’t offend him because I know he was only wanting to help.
There was insult to go with the injury though because the only mail waiting for me was more junk mail hehehe
The good news is I didn’t get upset about it. I was actually a bit flattered to be offered a pre-approved platinum credit card with a limit of ten grand this time. I was furious last time. I viewed the credit company as evil scheming monsters who were trying to lure me back into the credit trap. Good stuff this anti-depressant medication hehehe
One of my main concerns at the moment, however, is that I might go bald.
I wear a headset at work and, the other day, about half a dozen hairs got trapped in it. When I pulled the headset off the hairs came straight out of my scalp with no pain and no resistance. I did not like how easily they relinquished their place on my head and I am afraid of losing more.
A hairdresser once told me I have fine hair and, because of that, I have more strands of hair to the centimeter than most people. I sincerely hope that means I will have enough hair to avoid going bald.
If I go bald it will be a catastrophe! I have sensitive skin. A wig will make me itch and it will not be a good look to see me shove a finger under my “scalp” to scratch my head! I have bad eyesight too. If I shove the wig askew scratching I am likely to not notice.
Speaking of plastic bags, which I wasn’t, did you notice?
I saw a documentary the other day. It was called “Dreamland” and it was about life in a garbage dump. It was fascinating. When I throw my garbage away it ceases to exist in my mind but now I have seen the life it lives after it leaves me.
Some of the shots in the documentary were pure works of poignant art!
It has complicated my life though. Now I have to break the handles of every one of the hundreds of plastic bags I get when I go shopping to make sure none of my bags get wrapped around the leg of a bird and cause it a slow, lingering, death!
I told my daughter about that and she said the bags do even more harm when they end up in the sea and I should break the bottom of the bags too so they can’t trap fish who swim into them. I have bought reusable shopping bags but I often forget to take them with me or I buy more groceries than will fit into them. The time and effort it is taking me to break plastic bags apart before throwing them out is sure making me think twice about letting the supermarket give me any now though.
For many years I have been breaking the plastic tags that come on bread bags. I was told birds can get their beaks trapped in those. Seeing all those creatures who lived at the garbage dump in the documentary has made me even more keen to do what I can to avoid harming them.
Horrid thought number fifty gazillion!
What about my rubbish bags?! Do garbage bags and garbage tidy bags cause the same problems? If so how the hell am I going to get my garbage down to the bins for collection?
I’d scratch my head over the problem but that might make my hair fall out!