June 26, 2017

Time for a major moan. 


I've been ill for a few decades, for most of my life, really. When it's bad I can hardly do anything, I just have to take it easy. My mind goes. I can't think. My body aches. I have to go to the loo every hour. Constant migraines and puking. 


In my teens my hair started to fall out, I lost loads of weight, lost my love of life. My joints seized up and I could hardly walk. I just imploded in every way possible--physically and mentally. All of this happened at a very important and formative stage in my development. 


My body stopped developing. I looked back through some old photos recently and it made me sad. And angry. I'm not sure exactly what happened but in the past ten years I realised that this began straight after I had a large mercury filling. I'm incredibly sensitive to all metals except gold and silver. If any metal other than these two is near my skin for more than a few minutes I react. I've always had an ultra sensitive system. 


It was relatively recently that I made the connection with the filling after reading other people's experiences and researching the symptoms of mercury poisoning. I pretty much had them all. I can't say for sure but it's a distinct possibility. My view now is that no children should have mercury put in their mouths. It's a deadly neurotoxin,--no brainer. I asked my dentist about this and she agreed but assured me that it would not leech into my system and that mercury fillings are completely safe. I asked about having it removed but she said as it is such a dangerous substance it was better to just leave it there. Removal is a dangerous process. OK...


Due to feeling so ill all the time I never really had much of a life. No career, no family, no real education. In my teens I was accused of being on drugs. This just sent me further into my shell and I had a complete mental breakdown. Paranoia, extreme anxiety, depression, the works. This was the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with, much more difficult than the physical problems. It got so bad that I couldn't handle being around people. I became a hermit. Funny thing is I've never been into drugs and I hardly even used to drink. These days I'm teetotal.


After many years, decades even, I learned that I could heal myself through diet. I cut out gluten and ate loads of raw vegetables. I slowly began to feel stronger. I got to the stage around the age of 40 where I felt strong enough to start thinking about getting my ass back together and I picked up where I left off aged about 15. 


My two passions had always been prehistory and art. I considered taking a foundation course in history with a view to taking an archaeology degree--my childhood dream. But when I went to see an advisor at the college he told me about an art foundation they ran. A sense of destiny kicked in and I instantly knew I had to do this instead. Which I did. It all went quite well, I worked hard and ended up doing a fine art degree. 


This finished 2 years ago and now I know that the only way I can have a life is by becoming a self-employed artist.For one it would be fulfuilling and secondly it's the only way I could work around my condition. I suppose I'm proud of the way I've got myself through all this without any help. I've repaired my brain and my body to a certain extent. The health service weren't any help and in some ways I'm pleased I didn't end up in that system. I'd probably have been put on anti depressants which would have been the last thing I needed. It could have destroyed me completely.


Recently though things have got bad again. I've been unwell for months. My symptoms have returned and I haven't been able to get much work done. It has got so bad recently that I can't even draw. I suffered constant migraines which distorted my vision for weeks and my hands and fingers seized up with bleeding cracks. With the tummy upsets my energy levels have been rock-bottom. 





I decided to cut out a lot of processed crap that I was eating along with all grains and other foods that can cross-react with gluten and I've started to heal again. It's difficult though. I'm just so tired and fed up with all of this. I don't know that I'll ever have a life. It's getting a bit late now that I'm heading for 50.


But I've realised that all my creative work is deeply related to all of this shit that I've lived with. It's about me on this estate, trapped, isolated and on my own, dreaming. It's crazily introspective and I'm cool with that.


Dreams never end.

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