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“Show me what democracy looks like!” – “This is what democracy looks like!!”

It’s taken a while for me to regroup and work out what I want to say – in fact I’m still not entirely sure. These past few weeks have been trying, both geopolitically and in my own life. I was spending a lot of time worrying about my cat, who is dying inch by inch as he is in chronic renal failure. He even spent a night in the animal hospital with it, he’s now back to his ‘normal’ but it was touch and go for a week. 

He was a poorly boy. Then of course, we have the gargantuan cockup that is the US of A, or rather their vitriolic president. I’m half German and obsessed with WW2 and the social constructs that led to the rise of the Nazis (thank you autism) and BOOM. It’s pretty much set and match. 
I went and protested, I went and stood up for the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, something I believe in so very passionately. I went to protest the silent acceptance of Theresa May, shame on her. And I went to show solidarity to my fellow citizens of the planet. 

They laugh about the protest on the alt right. There is a great deal of cynicism. They seem to think we are trying to influence Trump – that’s clearly not the point. We are bringing together and uniting, showing our own political leaders we do not agree and are literally standing up to be counted – we are not silenced. Maybe it will effect something or maybe it won’t, but it’s better than cold cynicism on the internet and trolling. We were loud and peaceful and we made ourselves heard. We were butifully vibrant and diverse in our number and we celebrated humanity. It was quite lovely.

So, where to go from here? It’s all well and good, having a nice evening with friends and like minded people in our little liberal bubble, and yes, I should cynical, but I’m not. It was lovely and people were great and we all represented something together – but we need to keep that momentum going. What can I, as one woman do? What can anyone do?

  1. Write your local MP, they are there to represent you. If they don’t know, we’ll then, if you don’t ask, you don’t get.
  2. Call out xenophobia when you see it, call out racism, even jokes – especially in your own community.
  3. Check yourself for prejudice and privilege – those of us who are white, we ARE priviledged by our skin colour – and make sure your brand of activism is intersectional. 
  4. DON’T FEED THE TROLLS.
  5. But do have hard, ideally in person conversations. Facts and figures seem to mean little these days, so we need to change our tactics too – humanise refugees. Connect with the people you’re talking with, find common ground. 
  6. THIS IS GOING TO BE VERY HARD. Especially if you really don’t agree with the other person’s stance. But we need to break through the barriers to learning, in this case usually extremes of emotion, if we want change. Remember, most of this comes from a place of fear.
  7. Don’t be an idiot. Keep yourself safe. Make sure you change passwords and the like regularly. Lock down your social network profiles, make sure your privacy settings are on high. Don’t lose your temper.
  8. Don’t become complacent. We will be anaesthetised by outrage after outrage. We will become numb. Keep reminding yourself of what is at stake. This is a long, hard slog, dealing with Brexit, dealing with Trump, dealing with the rise of the right. This won’t be done by Christmas. The consequences will be vast. We will get tired, but, if we don’t keep standing up, who then?

I’m going to try so much harder to be active, within the limitations of my health. I do not want this to turn into a dystopian society, it’s up to us to make sure it doesn’t.

The new dawn.

I’ll put it out there, I like the Obamas, intelligent people of great dignity. I will miss. Them, miss the calm, reassuring voice they provided. I wish America luck, I really do – I hope that, somehow, the words of the outgoing president at having to work hard to keep America working will be heeded. 

In Europe, we are the piggy in the middle between two large military powers. We can have about as much effect as a castle built on sand can. I for one, have decided to no longer be worried about things beyond my control. What will happen will happen, I can only hope that cool calm heads, working for the good of all the people’s of this earth will prevail. It might just be the way we survive. 

(I do not know the owner of this image if anyone can tell me I will gladly copyright!)

My First Time… posting

I was going to start off this blog with something light and airy, vaguely humourous about my attempts at setting up websites or blogs and the like. Instead, I find myself posting about Borderline Personality Disorder (the one everyone thinks they know about) or Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder (the one no one knows quite what it means and sounds relatively harmless. Emotions. Who needs those, right?) as it is now correctly known.

I have EUPD. As much as it sounds like nothing, and as much as I get a reaction of ‘oh, right, that’ when I mention BPD – I’m kind of starting to think there is an advantage to the new name. Consider this: you are finally diagnosed (wether you wanted to be or not) and the medical community suddenly starts treating you that bit more… differently? I’d like to say seriously, but that’s not the experience of the contributor to this article in The Mighty. Her mental health team now simply thought they knew all about her, all from three little letters. B. P. D.

Does she like cats? No idea. Is she more of a dog person? Who knows. Does she prefer classical music over jazz and does she prefer a latte over a cappuccino? And these are only the simplistic (if occasionally significant) things that make up the person with whom the medical community sees fit to deal with, all and only through the lense of three little letters. B. P. D.

They feel like a chain around my neck. I’m ‘lucky’ I have aspergers, it is written in my file in neon (well, it’s typed there anyway) that I am meticulously honest and tell people how I feel/what I am doing (assuming I know myself). That… takes a little of the pressure off but I now understand why my mental health worker was at such great pains to point this out to anyone new seeing me. She knew me before and after I became ‘official’ you see.

In fairness to my mental health team, I have been treated exceptionally well and with great kindness, the medical staff at the local medical hospital and my GP surgery have all been brilliant (and all on the wonderful NHS!). I’ve not suffered much from the stigma amongst HCPs and it is nice to know in a way, what it is, that this thing that makes my Crazy act out has a name. It’s why I prefer the new name though, I prefer having to explain it to strangers rather have them think they know me because of an eposide of Criminal Minds or something.

Still, I’d rather give the whole thing back, but then, I wouldn’t be me, would I.

First blog post

This is the excerpt for your very first post.

“This is your very first post.” No it’s not. Turns out though, I can’t even blog in the right order. My mental health note about an article in The Mighty is actually the first… but I should have posted it under this bit here… Lord. Blogging is complicated. I can already see these waters will be murky for a while, I must watch closely.