Tag Archives: rants

Fucking doctors

I know that in a lot of ways I am very privileged to have access to insurance and everything but I gotta rant for a bit because I’m going even crazier and I don’t know what to do.

My shrink texted me for an appointment when I got back from holidays and I replied with yes please. No reply for five days. So I text her again and she can only fit me in but only during my working hours.

Luckily I’ve got a very decent boss who gives me the time off and who found me alternative work to be doing. My work is very triggering. I deal with rape, murder, genocide and child abuse, some of which includes graphic photos of dead people. Work led to PTS which led to depression.

I confirm the appointment with that bloody shrink and she writes me back saying that she heard that my insurance pays $1000 for headshrinking and now she’ll going to charge me over double what I already pay. The truth is that my insurance will repay me up to $1000 a year. I’ve already “spent” over $1000 on therapy in the past three months. Insurance takes over five months to repay and then I’m screwed on the exchange rate $ to €. I’m a frakking volunteer. I get paid enough to live on just about.

Now I have to decide whether it’s worth paying out of pocket and try and explain the situation. Even if she keeps charging me the regular amount, it is a serious drain on my income. I feel like she is taking advantage of me. I’m fucked up and living in a fucked up country and she has a monopoly on head shrinking.

The therapy is good, mostly, but her answer to everything is to keep jacking up my Zoloft and to pass my insomnia issues along to the prescribing doctor.

That fucking doctor is getting on my tits as well. Not only does he believe that he knows more about me than I do but he keeps pushing WLS on me even knowing that my fatness in caused, in part by PCOS. I had a polite rant to him a few weeks ago and now he just writes me prescriptions. I just need the scrips to get refunded from my insurance cos I can get all my drugs over the counter. In fact I was so angry with him that I just kept buying Zoloft and didn’t go near his office for months.

When he was writing my latest scrip for Ambien, he prescribed too low a dose and proceeded to lecture me on possible addiction. I asked him for the millionth time if he had an alternative. He just said that my body needs to adjust to the drugs, which is what he said last time and the time before that and the time before that. That fuckwit is assigned to my organisation so I don’t have to pay the consulting fees but it does mean that I can’t afford to switch to a doctor who gives a flying fuck.

It’s been almost four months and I still can’t sleep. Done all the usual insomnia cures. I’m considering asking someone hit me over the head each night.

I really don’t know if insomnia or developing an addiction to sleeping pills is worse.

I feel totally vulnerable and cheated. I’m really angry. I’m smoking like a chimney. Really don’t know what to do. So tempted to never go back but I’m completely fucked up mentally. My friends are there for me when they can be but I’ve no family here and I get harassed (pointed at, laughed at, asked how many kilos I weigh,) and there is a constant threat of violence (women have been robbed at gun point and knife point near my office and my flat) every single time I leave my house.


Of friends

Just when I think that things are not so bad fortune vomits on my eiderdown once more (yes total Blackadder fan). K got assaulted on Friday night. A random guy twisted her wrist until she screamed and security did nothing. Of course security don’t give a shit about foreigners. And all the foreign boy who was with us could was that we had to respect their culture. Bollocks to that. No respect for any culture that abuses women.

Seems all I do is bitch on this blog but I suppose that is what it’s here for – my angst etc. Relationships here are so superficial. My best friend here is completely self-absorbed. I love her but she’s not capable of being there for me. She got her shit with is fair enough, nobody is perfect.

M was a good friend until her boyfriend came to live here. There’s always an adjustment period of course but six months later she’s constantly fighting with him and canceling any engagement at the last second. And the boyfriend is not allowed out by himself. She gets jealous if we even talk to him when she is there. She used to be an intelligent, funny, feminist chick and now she’s an alcoholic insecure mess.

Evans is a good guy but so far in the closet that he’s extremely uptight. I think he’s incapable of talking about anything other than work and so is extremely boring. Also he has no sensitivity. If I’m talking to a guy, rare though it happens, he’ll blunder in and break up the conversation. Love him but he annoys the hell out of me.

BG is a headfucking bastard. Nuff said

Al is cool. Love her.

Tentatively making new friendships but the problem with Hell is groundhog day. Every week is exactly the same – work and sleep. The weekend – drunk, angry, hungover, recover because there is literally nothing else to do.

That’s why I write, to stop myself from going crazy or drinking during the week. I see people becoming alcoholics and druggies before my eyes. Only another six months in this hellhole.


Last Friday I was told by BG the man who had repeatedly claimed to love me that he now has a new girlfriend, but he still likes me. He was headfucking me all evening. I was upset and coped with it by diving headfirst into a bottle of vodka. I emerged again later that evening, crying in the corner of a nightclub. K was hooking up with South African guy and I don’t know what possessed her but she introduced me to Nigerian who she didn’t know. Almost all my experiences with Nigerians has been negative.

I told him that I was not interested in meeting someone new and to please leave me alone. He didn’t and I walked away from him. K went looking and she found me in tears (as usual). He followed her and she left him with him. I was crying and this fucker was telling me how much he loved me and that he would kill himself if I didn’t go out with him. After 10 minutes of asking him to leave me alone, I snapped and started screaming at him to get the fuck away from me.

He kept insisting that he loved me so I grabbed Evans and told me that we were leaving right then. We went walkabout to the next bar. The Nigerian followed me proclaiming his love. I was screaming at him to get away from me, that I wasn’t interested and that I would call my tough guys if he didn’t leave me alone. Evans and I had one drink in that bar and then left. We were supposed to meet K and South African guy but they had already left.

The Nigerian was still waiting for me outside the war. It really freaked me out. I started to get very scared. This guy had been following me for over an hour. Nothing I could say would dissuade him that I was NOT interested. When he repeated that he would kill himself, I heard “I’ll kill you” because what’s a pronoun or two in an act of violence. Was also scared that he would demonstrate his “love” by raping me. This was a genuine fear.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t dare go home yet. I know it’s not good to generalise for any nationality but I’ve had some awful experiences, like this one, with Nigerian men. It’s always the men – the women are lovely. It’s not I problem I’ve had with Kenyans, Sierra Leonians, Congolese, Ghanians, Algerians etc. It’s just Nigerians and I’m through giving them the benefit of the doubt.

Part of the problem is their treatment of women and their utter lack of respect for women’s choices. This guy like so many before did not take no for an answer. I was stalked for months by a Nigerian neighbour. I’ve had to physically push men off me on more than one occasion. As shitty as Hell is, and it is, I’ve never felt in danger here before last Friday. That fucker reintroduced fear into my like and I’m so angry at him for that.

Pissy day

I’m in a totally pissed off mood today and for once it has nothing to do with boys. I have a friend visiting, which is grand. Haven’t seen her in years but it means late nights and full work days. Ergo I’m tired and the coffee isn’t doing its job. I long for ground coffee because Nescafe is shite.  This is not why I am pissy but the lead up. I’m pissy because my soi-disant friends are going to the beach and didn’t even fucking invite me.

Obviously I don’t need an engraved invitation but I feel left out and crappy because I have made them feel welcome in Hell and now they bugger off without me. Most of them, I have introduced to their Hell companions. The explanation, that only three were going and another invited herself and all the group except Evans and I, does not wash.

Interesting how Slutty can invite everyone but conveniently forget me. She’s still so jealous that she didn’t get a crack at Doc. You can kiss my fat ass, you hoor. (I use slut, not because she shags around but because she would stab a friend to get a man/laid. Although I am a sex positive feminist and should probably find another less engendered term.)

My cokehead friend is still not better. She’s gone to the hospital again. It’s worrying but there’s nothing I can do. Besides it was her druggie behaviour that got me tired in the first place – staying up all night making sure she didn’t die and taking her to the hospital. Haven’t slept properly in almost a week and it won’t be tonight that that will change.

Naturally I have taken up smoking again.

Grr Arg

Bloody B doesn’t even consult me before he volunteers my time. Bloody flatmate is back today. Want to scream in frustration. My head hurts and I didn’t have time for lunch and a workout and now I’m hungry and I forgot my money at home and M isn’t answering my texts and I want Flatmate to bugger off and I want Doc. I want Doc to call me and explain that he was busy and that he still wants to have dinner. But that’s just not going to happen now is it.


Got a troll – lose weight she says and then you won’t spend time crying into your pillow. How delightfully considerate? Why have I never thought of that? Oh yeah because I have. Losing weight with PCOS is about as easy as breaking the law of gravity, so you can fuck right off. I go to the gym each day and restrict my eating and the scales don’t fucking budge. I’m fat and there’s nothing I can do about it. Mostly I’m fine with it but I’ve have a rough couple of days and your concern trolling does not fucking help.


Why am I surrounded by incompetent fools? Why does everyone expect me to make their plans and coddle them and explain things to them and babysit them and comfort them until they has wrung ever drop of feeling from me and I’m left a bitter, brittle shell. I try and stop giving all the fucking time but no body listens. I’m tired of it.

I’m tired of never getting held and being the one to ask every once in a while. I miss tenderness. I can barely remember sex – so much for Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Load of bollocks.

Doc is in town and I remain untexted. I’m sick of boys who treat me bad. I want a gay boyfriend for the cuddles and kisses because I can always get myself off.

I’m draining – hell I’m barely even sarcastic anymore