I feel nauseous. Partly because I feel like everything is going to shit and partly because I’m still in the middle of a migraine but I can’t go and lay down because then it feels like I am doing nothing and being the cause for all of the problems.

Arthur’s transmission went. We got some money from cashing in some of Daniel’s accumulated holiday time and got Sirius. Now Neville is fucked. I knew he needed some stuff done but I didn’t realise that it was so bad that he is essentially not legal. So. No one knows what the actual problem is, so the only way to try to fix it would be to start swapping out parts and see what happened. That is of course not an economical option and therefore not an option. He’s registered until December and I had been hoping to try to save and scrape together something to find something to replace by then but looks like it is much more urgent than that.

So looks like I am back to not having a car for a while.

The Abigail situation is as always on a balance and you never know when it’s going to become unstable. She lost her shit a while back and I have contacted CYMHS and others asking for help. CYMHS referred us to some other place. They did shit fucking all. The lady that called me said that they had some possibilities if Abigail was willing to work with them. There was some kind of intensive youth worker who would work with her from home to try to teach skills like not going psycho on your family but she didn’t qualify for that or something. I also asked what options we had if she didn’t want to be cooperative and she told me that there were none. There’s not really anything that can be done without the child’s consent. So thanks for that. I am telling all these people that she loses it at tiny things, or things that we have no control over, she has physically hurt us and threatened to physically hurt us and we don’t know if and when it will happen again and how bad it will be and there is nothing that can be done. So that was obviously a great helpful relief to know that we are all alone and no one fucking cares that our safety could be at risk and we (figuratively) tiptoe around her and lie to her in order to try to not set her off and we can never relax because we never know what could do it and there is no help available for us.

I did get a piece of paper from the paediatrician that says that she has been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder level 1. I asked for her to formalise the diagnosis because I wanted a fucking paper trail that shows I have been trying to get help for this and I don’t want to be the one that is blamed if she loses it one day and burns down a building full of people or something. You know what fucking pisses me off though is that we first took her to a psychologist when she was 9. We have been seeking help from various people and services since then. Everyone says that with ASD the most effective thing is EARLY INTERVENTION. Yet it took until last year to effectively get a confirmation that she had it, and even then the paediatrician told us there was not much point in formally recording the diagnosis because she functions too well at school and shit for her to ever see any kind of assistance. That’s because she’s extremely skilled in masking or camouflaging her ASD traits to seem normal when she’s in public but then the weight and effort involved in that results in us dealing with the fallout. But it’s not like we didn’t TELL all these professional people these things. We did. So why did none of them pick up on this? Time and time again I told people how bad it is and how miserable it makes us all and all we got was “do a parenting class” or “be more firm.”

Anyway. Apparently with the piece of paper that says she has ASD we may be able to claim a Carer’s Allowance. So I have applied for that. I don’t know why no one felt the need to mention THAT when they first confirmed to us that she has it, either, ’cause in the in depth family history and shit they take it has certainly been mentioned that we are not exactly blessed with an overabundance of dollars. And everything helps.

But whatever.

Oh, and still haven’t heard anything about the DSP.


thought dump

I’d really like a penseive. (God damnit, autocorrect, no, I do not mean ‘pensive!’) One that was perhaps a combination of magical and muggle technology would be ideal. I could use a wand to pull certain threads of thoughts out of my head and put them into this device that would translate them into the words I want to express to other people. Or no one. 

The one thing I always wondered about a penseive, though, is that is you have taken the thought out of your head does that mean it isn’t in your head anymore? Because I don’t recall it ever being specifically said that it’s more like a copy of a thought but it does seem like people are still aware of thoughts even after they’ve taken it out for putting in a penseive but then on the other hand Dumbledore talks about being able to organize his head better by taking out some thoughts that he wasn’t using or something. Can’t remember exactly, been a while since I read and do not have the books on hand.

So anyway. I have wanted a few times recently to sit down and relieve myself of some thoughts but one thing or another meant that it didn’t happen. So today I am going to do a bulk thought cache dump. (Imagine how much more efficient brains could be if that were really possible.)

1. Anzac Day. I’m not a fan. And this is pretty much the most un-Australian thing I can say, except for perhaps “Steve Irwin is a dickhead.” (Relax, I thought he was as cool as everyone else did.) The problem I have with Anzac Day is not the sentiment of it, it’s the… publicness of it. People talk about dawn services and marches and this event and that event to commemorate the service people of our past and it is heavily implied that if you are not doing one (or more) of those things then you are an ungrateful, unfeeling, selfish asshole who doesn’t care about the sacrifices of the past. And that annoys me. Because I do care. I just don’t care to do my caring in the middle of the night with hundreds or thousands of other people. And I think it’s a little bit like religion, or faith, which I also don’t want to do with other people at a set time every week or year or whatever. My appreciation is in my memories of sitting on the lap of an old man and examining his hands with the innocent curiosity of a child, running my fingers over the scarred skin where his index finger should have been, but wasn’t, because it was blown off in the war. In having to consciously look at his face to notice the scarring and the eye that was different, because to us he was just silly Uncle Gary who would not go in the pool with us because he did not like wet water. But every now and then you see those things and remember that war is serious business and many people lost lots of things.

It seems like the marches and services and stuff are more so that you can make sure people have seen you doing something and they know that you appropriately appreciate the freedoms we have rather than actually appreciating and enjoying them.

This entry has been a saved draft WIP for about a week. Everything gets interrupted. My train of thought gets lost, then when it is found again it is not always in the same condition it was before.

So, anyway. Cars. Have been being vexatious this last week or so. We essentially have three of the things (one is technically Allan’s but he is in a different country so he does not need to use it right now.) Something went bad with Horatio (Daniel’s car.) So he started using Allan’s instead. It had needed a new battery and to be registered which we did. This car does not have a name. (When Allan first got it, some suggestions were made but he did not seem keen on any of them and he didn’t think of anything himself. I don’t think he realises how important a name is for a car’s sense of identity.) It was all going nicely and Horatio was on “the list” to be fixed when we had money and Richard had time. My Neville is faithful and he is very good to me. He needed a new battery recently but that was reasonably simple. But then last week something went fucky in the blue car so Daniel had to take Neville. One day while he was at work someone decided to steal Neville’s number plate. They only took the rear one but the front appeared to have been fiddled with too. I don’t understand why someone would do that except to be an asshat. It’s not like they can be of any use what with plate recognition and stuff. So someone just wanted to make our lives annoyed and inconvenienced. It is reasonably simple to go to Qld Transport and get new ones but it’s just annoying, not to mention costs us $26 for the privelige. 

thought dump