#WeekendCoffeeShare (May 23, 2026)

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I’m joining #WeekendCoffeeShare again. I originally started typing this post yesterday evening but got distracted and distressed and then never finished my post. It’s now nearly 9PM on Saturday. I just had my evening soft drink but since it’s blazing hot out here, I’ll have to make sure to drink plenty of water. Let’s have a drink and let’s catch up.

If we were having coffee, first I’d expand on my comment about it being blazing hot and talk about the weather. Early in the week, the daytime temp barely got above 12°C and we had rain. On Wednesday, the daytime temperature started to rise and today it’s 30°C. I honestly don’t mind as much, although of course it still being May this makes me worried for the real summer.

If we were having coffee, then I’d share that I am still in the game for a perfect month with respect to my movement ring on my Apple Watch. April was a hard month and I didn’t meet my goal several days. This month, I’m probably not going to meet my monthly challenge goal, but at least I still have a chance at closing my movement ring each day.

Yesterday, the staff and I originally planned on riding the side-by-side bike to the nearby lake for a cup of coffee (and my favorite caramel pie). Unfortunately, the bike wouldn’t work properly so we went for a walk instead and stopped by the institution townhouse for a coffee. They sometimes offer cake too, but apparently not this time.

If we were having coffee, I’d share that I made use of both my culinary activity time slots this week. Today, I baked a banana cake. The bananas should’ve been riper, but it was okay nonetheless.

On Wednesday, I cooked a one-pot pasta dish with broccoli, chicken and pesto sauce. I’ve given up my idea of cooking vegan dinners only, because all the prep is just too hard.

Besides, the behavior specialist noticed how happy cooking for my fellow residents made me and talked to my support coordinator about it. Soon, I’ll likely have a weekly opportunity to cook for my side of the home. Whether this will be full-on dinner prep each week, will have to be decided on.

If we were having coffee, next I’d share that the behavior specialist came by on Thursday for a talk. It’s a shame she’s a substitute, because it looks like she’s much more understanding of my situation than the regular one. I do hope that she’ll be able to talk some sense into the regular one when she comes back in a month or so though.

It isn’t like she wasn’t critical of me, of course. For example, she asked me whether there’s any risk in my writing about my life in the institution openly online for this care agency. I was up front with her that I can be quite harsh in my criticism of my staff and, if they read it, they may recognize themselves. However, I never name my institution or any individual workers. Not that, being that I’m not an employee, there’s any law prohibiting me from naming and shaming the institution if I so wished, but I can see it wouldn’t help my relationship with my staff. That’s why I don’t usually give out my blog address to staff.

One of the positive outcomes of our meeting is the fact that the behavior specialist and I got talking about my IQ. As regular readers of this blog know, the IQ that’s in my care plan was pulled out of mid-air, in that no-one except for me knows where it came from and until now, no-one seemed to care. It turns out she’d been looking for the report and couldn’t find it. Phew, finally! I explained that the report is nowhere to be found except on my personal computer. The report literally dates back to 1999 and isn’t the best childhood psych eval report I have at that. But it’s the one with the catchiest punchline, ie. the three-digit IQ score. I never realized myself until very recently that most staff, being practically educated, go right for catchy bullet points and, as a result, won’t remember the pages and pages of information about my emotional development when they’ve been wowed about my “super high” IQ. In any case, here’s hoping the behavior specialist will finally get this nonsensical number removed from my care plan.

If we were having coffee, I’d then ramble on non-stop about the other issues this meeting brought up. Do you have a couple hours? I just deleted an incredibly long paragraph because I saw my post was fast approaching 1000 words. Instead, I’ll wrap this up and go to bed, as it’s nearly 11:30PM by now.

Asserting My Rights

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Yesterday’s WordPress daily prompt was interesting. It asked us to explain what freedom means. I was originally inspired to write a post about human, civil and disability rights as they apply to my situation, but got distracted by family matters.

After last week being dragged to my room by both arms by two staff for the crime of being in the living room outside of my allocated one-on-one time and appearing (slightly) in distress, I decided to contact the client confidante on involuntary care. I remember writing about the Care and Force Act when it was just being introduced and being offended at the fact that it applies to anyone receiving care due to an intellectual disability (including acquired brain injury) or neurocognitive disorder (like Alzheimer’s, Huntington’s, etc.), not just institutionalized people. Like, under the old law, you had to be detained in an institution first before anything could be done against your (or your guardian’s in the case of being incapacitated) will. Now even those still living independently can receive “involuntary care”. And just for clarity’s sake: “involuntary care” is a euphemism for anything being done against your will, including being locked in or out of a room, forced medication, etc. As an example, if someone with dementia constantly leaves the stove on, they can be involuntarily locked out of the kitchen. Yes, even in their own homes!

However, after speaking to the confidante, I realized the Care and Force Act isn’t a free pass to do as you please if you happen to be a care provider. In fact, I’m now pretty sure that it’s indeed giving the client more rather than fewer rights, at least if they (or their guardian) knows how to assert those rights. And I know now!

Yesterday, the client confidante came by to discuss last week’s incident with me. I had given both staff involved one chance to talk it over with me before. The one leading the “involuntary care” wouldn’t budge and told me she’d talked it over with the behavior specialist, team leader and my assigned staff. She kept claiming forcing me to my room was in the other clients’ best interest. I learned yesterday that the Care and Force Act isn’t about best interest, but about “significant disadvantage”. This means that someone (either the client involved or someone else) has to be at risk of suffering significant harm (in any form, including psychological) if the “involuntary care” isn’t provided. It also requires that “involuntary care” be the last resort. In this case, the staff asked me verbally to go to my room twice, then threatened to ask her coworker to “help” then gestured to her and then they dragged me to my room. That’s not a matter of last resort!

The other staff involved used to be one of my most trusted staff. She initially blamed her coworker for forcing her into a quick decision, until I learned that they’d talked it over before I even went into the living room. Then she finally half-heartedly apologized.

This incident, however, was only the final straw again. After talking to the client confidante and being informed of my rights, I feel that a can of worms was opened of things that staff (used to) do against my will.

For example, this home is locked as a measure of “involuntary care” for two fellow clients at risk of eloping. This is in itself a questionable measure, but the thing affecting me is my being given a black-or-white choice between the door being opened at every hint that I want to leave or my not being allowed to leave the home without explicit permission at all. A similar thing is staff constantly telling me they aren’t allowed to force me into activities as an excuse to lay back at my every hint that I don’t want to do a certain activity.

Another example is the client portal with my records. I have requested access to it multiple times but the question has always been flat out ignored.

I called the confidante this morning requesting that I be allowed to E-mail her with my further concerns/questions. I did so this afternoon. Earlier this evening, fear hit me hard. What if the powers-that-be decide to give me a choice between consenting to whatever they please and being kicked out? This happened once in the psychiatric hospital and well shotgun consent but they got it.

Same when the social worker threatened to declare me incapable of decision-making and make my parents my guardian unless I signed application forms for a home everyone should’ve known I didn’t meet the criteria for. I sent the confidante another E-mail this evening asking whether the institution could legally do this and, if so, whether there’d be any chance that my parents or sister would be appointed as guardians rather than my wife, especially after our divorce.

The confidante will E-mail my support coordinator asking her to schedule a meeting between her, the behavior specialist and me with the confidante leading the process. She told me I’m allowed to file a formal complaint after that. I’ll give it some thought, but that causes me intense fear too. After all, even if no-one can legally threaten me with forced discharge or guardianship, that doesn’t mean they won’t try.

Breaking Point #WotW

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I’m joining #WeekendCoffeeShare again, as well as participating in the Word of the Week linky. I’ve been struggling intensely over the past few weeks and am wondering how much longer it’ll take before I reach breaking point. Or whether there is such a thing as a single breaking point, honestly. I mean, I’ve been comparing the build-up to my being quite likely burned out to the horrific experiment (I tell the animal-loving part of myself it’s just a thought experiment, but I doubt it is) of the lobster in hot water. You know, the idea that if you throw a lobster into boiling water, it’ll jump right out, but if you gradually boil it, it won’t notice until it’s too late and then it’ll die. Realizing this actually happens makes my inner vegan sick! But I digress…

First, I’d like to talk about the weather. It’s been mild with daytime temps between 14°C and 18°C, but the nights have been a lot colder. We had a little rain early in the week, but none over the past few days and there’s none in the forecast for the upcoming week either.

Then, let me share how things have been going. I’m increasingly overloaded and have had quite a few incidents of crying uncontrolably over the past week. I’ve also been engaging in some compulsive self-imjurious behaviors, particularly at night. I’ve almost literally needed the night shift each night over the past few weeks. Each evening, I’m telling myself I won’t need them tonight and feeling guilty when I do. Most night staff are still understanding and kind, but it’s only a matter of time before they, like the regular staff, will grow weary.

Unfortunately, my support coordinator and assigned staff aren’t on the same page. The rest of the team are all over the place. Most are struggling intensely with feelings of powerlessness. Some admit that they wish they knew how to help me, while others act out their feelings by screaming in my face that if I go on like this, no-one will be there for me anymore. The first group, I feel some level of compassion for even if I don’t know how to show it. The second, I only feel scared of. I’m currently actually terrified for the times the staff who screams about there being nobody for me anymore the loudest will be supporting me. This is the same staff who shoved the “one chance” rule down my throat a few months back, but she’s also the same staff with whom I used to do quite many fun activities. She’s not a bad person or a lazy staffer, but she’s most definitely overworked.

I see it’s a vicious cycle: I’m distressed, exhibit more challenging behavior, which frustrates the staff, who then act out in more repressive ways, causing me even more distress… and unfortunately it’s the staff who show the least harmful repression to me who see the most of my obvious distress. I’m extremely scared of where this will end. My worst fear is the harsh staff being seen as more effective and their actions therefore being reinforced. I’ve heard of more than one current client at this institution being “bullied” (staff’s words) into compliance and I know even the Center for Consultation and Expertise is all for ABA (applied behavior analysis), including in many cases aversives.

I do try to see some glimmers each day. I however sometimes feel guilty when I can’t appreciate them or end up spiraling over some apparently tiny detail when I did enjoy some meaningful activities that day. I constantly hear the staff’s (same staff who screams that soon there’ll be nobody) words that I have nothing to complain about because I get familiar staff and enough one-on-one ringing in my ears. I try to remember my support is better already than it was at the intensive support home, but that only contributes to more guilt over my inability to be upbeat.

Recently, after a few incidents in which I’ve become physically aggressive, I’ve been thinking I should be forcibly medicated or even euthanized. My inner animal lover sometimes contributes to this. If aggressive dogs are put down, shouldn’t I? My wife, who is a vegan, countered that just because aggressive dogs are currently put down, doesn’t mean that’s the way it should be.

Joy and the Fear It Induces #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I’m once again late writing my post in the #AtoZChallenge. Today is another hard day. Last week when talking to my support coordinator, I realized one of the problems might be the fact that I think I don’t deserve to be happy. This is not necessarily all there is to my trauma-related symptoms and, besides, is it still paranoia if they are actually out to get you?

I’ve mentioned the fear of joy before. It has been following me forever, since learning that I was losing the little sight I had at around age seven. I always prepared for the day when I’d go totally blind. That day still technically hasn’t come, although I can hardly call the tiny bit of light perception I do have sight.

Then there is Jolanda Venema. Dutch people who are in their fifties or older will no doubt remember her photo in a newspaper in 1988. She was chained to a bed, stripped naked, in an institution for people with intellectual disability. I learned a few years ago that it was actually the institution I live in now. I am not old enough to have actually seen the original newspaper article, but I did learn about a similar case in a child and adolescent psychiatric unit in Utrecht in around 1997. This particular girl, a 16-year-old at the time whose name I forgot, was even more like me than Jolanda, in that she had a borderline normal IQ. Cases like these have always haunted me, but that got worse when I entered the care system in 2005 and more so when I was admitted to the psychiatric hospital in 2007. At the time, staff literally told me that, when I needed more support than the three nurses to sixteen acutely ill patients (if they weren’t understaffed) could provide, I’d be locked up in seclusion. And I was. And coerced into taking high doses of medication to prevent me being secluded tons of times after that.

I know for a fact that I’m not allowed to be truly happy. The adage in care is, after all, that it’s better to provide okay’ish care to two people than excellent care to one. And I would’ve agreed if care ever had been excellent. But it never was in the 20+ years I’ve been in the system and not in the 20+ years before that. At least not for people like me and Jolanda.

This doesn’t mean I never experience moments of joy and I do try to acknowledge them. I’m not purposefully being more negative in order to elicit better care. If anything, the opposite is true. However, as another incident this evening proved, most people don’t nearly try their hardest and they don’t think others do either. Well guess what? I do! That doesn’t mean joyful moments don’t induce fear, but fear is not a choice. Besides, like I said, is it still paranoia if they are actually out to get you? I don’t think so.

Institutional Abuse: Abuse in the Care System #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone and welcome to my letter I post in the #AtoZChallenge. Today I want to talk about trauma that I for one didn’t experience in childhood: trauma and particularly abuse experienced in the care system. I’m struggling majorly with this, as just this evening I had an aggressive meltdown that led to me being thrown to the ground by one staff and another staff admitting that the only reason I’m not being locked up or physically restrained is the fact that I’m not strong enough.

I want to say here that my choice of words is a bit tricky. Is it “abuse” if the client was themself aggressive, even if it was “just” verbally? I am struggling intensely with the fact that, on the one hand, my wife never locked me into a room or threw me to the ground even though I was quite a nasty person to her at times when we were living together, but on the other, there are just two staff to ten clients here. I try to understand that staff are people too and not necessarily worse people than others are. My wife sometimes said that the staff at the intensive support home were ill-intentioned at best, but I doubt it. My point is, people are part of a system. When that system is purposefully created to oppress some people, yes, the “low-key” oppressors are to blame too, but that doesn’t make them personally bad people. Many unfortunately don’t realize how much they’re accustomed to using (and abusing) their power. In fact, where it comes to care staff, most don’t even have a clue that they’re higher up in the pecking order than us clients are.

That doesn’t mean that the (ab)use of power doesn’t affect us. I mean, I was once, at the intensive support home, told that if I were dragged to my room, I had probably asked for it with my behavior. The thing is, even if I had, that doesn’t make being physically dragged not traumatic. Similarly, I can totally understand why the staff this evening threw me to the ground (I’m not even 100% sure he intended on me landing on my head), but that doesn’t mean my head doesn’t hurt.

One last thing I want to discuss, is the fact that institutional abuse may technically be a staff’s action (or inaction), but it is the result of a long line of decisions made by management, the Care Office or other funding agency and ultimately the government. It is not the client “choosing” to be restrained/locked up/drugged/etc. with their behavior and, like I said, the staff are the ones doing it, but if the government chooses a lock or shot is cheaper than support, they are the ones ultimately responsible.

Autonomy: Learning That I Can Do Things and That My Opinions Matter #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Today is April 1 so this means the #AtoZChallenge is starting. I haven’t prepared any posts in advance, but since I am going to write on healing past hurts, the concept of autonomy spoke to me for my letter A post. Autonomy is the ability to be self-reliant and independent, both physically and emotionally. It starts to develop in toddlerhood.

As I learned about emotional development as it relates to developmental disability (I discussed this in 2023), I realized in many ways I’m not there yet. I struggle with even basic decisions like what clothes I want to wear.

When I was 30, I was told I have dependent personality disorder. This disorder is characterized by passivity and the inability to make decisions independently, as well as a pervasive need to be taken care of. It is often related to lack of encouragement of autonomy in childhood.

I don’t have many memories of my early childhood, but I do know I wasn’t given a lot of autonomy when I was older. It’s not that my parents didn’t try, but as soon as I got frustrated, they gave up. They genuinely believed they were giving me autonomy and that I was just too stubborn to want to be independent. For this reason, they claimed and to this day still claim it’s my choice to be in the care system.

My psychologist back in 2016, the one who diagnosed me with dependent personality disorder, sided with them. She said I did have the assertiveness to stand up for myself, but wasn’t doing things I was (thought to be) capable of. That’s not what dependent personality disorder is though: lack of confidence in one’s own physical capabilities is but one criterion out of eight. And please note: it’s specified that the reason someone isn’t doing something, is in fact lack of confidence, not lack of skill or motivation. In other words, unwillingness to do things independently that you can do, is not dependent personality disorder, but care misuse.

And for clarity’s sake: I am not and never was misusing care. However, that’s exactly what my psychologist thought I was and according to which presumption she treated me by kicking me out of the mental hospital with virtually no support. She once again didn’t encourage me to develop autonomy. Refusing to help someone who clearly asks for help, contrary to the current idea in mental health services, may be politically useful, but it is not autonomy-supportive.

I am only now, now that I’m nearly forty, learning that I in fact was conditioned by both my parents and the psychiatric hospital to disregard my own opinions. Yes, being able to do things independently, is one aspect of autonomy, but so is the ability to make your own choices. One can hardly exist without the other.

March 2026 In Review

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. It’s the last day of the month and that means I’m joining Natalie for her monthly wrap-up. March was a tough month. As I say this, I hear a little voice in my head saying I’ll never be happy anyway as I’m so negative. One of my staff on Sunday said I have nothing to complain about because I get regular support workers and my day schedule is followed. I still wonder how much of my dissatisfaction is indeed due to circumstances that can be changed, such as my day schedule, how much is due to the inherent nature of my being multiply-disabled and living in long-term care and how much is my attitude.

In any case, early in the month I heard that my activity-based day schedule would be taking effect on April 1. That’s tomorrow. Unfortunately, on the same day, the staff’s hours are going to change and this, even though the literal hours they are in the home won’t be cut, means my support will be cut a little. We’ll see how that goes.

I tried to adapt to the new support hours already and this was incredibly hard. I also tried to myself follow a schedule with more meaningful activities. This was partly successful, especially with staff who are already able to help me get more meaningful activities done. For example, last week, one of the staff helped me create a unicorn-themed card for a former fellow resident from the intensive support home, who had her birthday that day.

Thankfully, one staff, with whom until then I’d only been doing dice games and going for walks, herself took the initiative to ask a colleague to orient her to the polymer clay activity.

I have been cooking and baking more than I used to. For example, I baked so-called “healthy” brownies that I fully intended on handing out at the monthly local brain injury meet-up. They weren’t all that good though.

Later, I found out I had a Trojan on my computer that came with the recipe manager app I used to download random recipes off Facebook into, including this “healthy” brownie recipe.

Before I found out I had malware on my computer, I had been obsessing over the idea of cooking vegetarian curries. Most of the recipes, I got off English-language food websites like BBC Good Food, so I’m not sure I’ll be able to use them. After all, though my English is quite good, my staff’s might not be.

Last Saturday, I cooked a delicious cauliflower, tomato and chickpea curry. This recipe was in Dutch, by the way.

Now that I look over this post, I wonder what made the month so tough, given that I once again did more meaningful activities than I used to. I do believe part of the problem is the fact that I’m still not adequately supported when I’m struggling. I mean, highs and lows are to be expected even when you’re having the proverbial time of your life. When people expect me to have a positive outlook because “I have nothing to complain about”, that is horribly invalidating. Life in the care system isn’t great and it isn’t meant to be. I don’t expect to ever rate my days higher than a seven out of ten, but when staff do have this expectation of me, it’s incredibly frustrating. I’m hoping something can be done about this.

Of course, this was also the month I finally realized I’ll never have an okay relationship with my parents. It’s tough realizing I never experienced a proper bond with my parents and even tougher to know that no-one can replace it. However, I do think I’m more capable than I used to believe. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Three Wishes, Revisited

Posted on by Astrid

Hi all. Last Tuesday, I saw the Writer’s Workshop prompts for this week. Several of them spoke to me but I somehow didn’t give myself the time to actually write on them. Today, I’m finally back on the blog and I’m choosing the prompt in which you’re granted three wishes. I did a post on this topic already in 2020. Let’s see how things have changed over the years. What would I wish for now?

1. Unlimited door-to-door transportation. I listed ParaTransit access as a wish in 2020, but now that I’m actually using it for things other than getting to my wife, I realize that it’s not that having unlimited kilometers would solve my problems getting to places. I’d also need the driver to actually drop me off at the place I want to go to. Transportation, after all, is one of the reasons I don’t go to cerebral palsy meetings as often as I’d like, because they’re often organized at restaurants, which taxis can’t reach.

2. My ideal room/apartment within a care facility. In 2020, I wanted to be closer to my wife, but if I have my transportation desires covered anyway, that’s no longer a necessity. My ideal place wouldn’t be much larger than my current room, but it would have a private bathroom and its own kitchen, in which I could prepare my own food with assistance. It would also not be as close to communal areas as my current room is, because well one of my main problems right now is overload from all the sounds coming from the living room.

Looking back, I can’t believe I didn’t list more care hours as a wish in 2020, being that I didn’t have my one-on-one at the time. I do now and of course I wish for it to stay the same.

3. Improved physical and mental health. Don’t we all wish for optimal health? I listed it in 2020 too, as my first wish in fact. Since then, my physical health has improved in some ways and declined in others. For example, I’ve lost significant amounts of weight that I indeed needed to lose and as a result, no longer have high blood pressure. I can also walk for longer. On the other hand, my tremors have gotten significantly worse and I believe my cognitive functioning has declined a bit too.

My mental health, I think, is better than it was in early 2020. I hope it improves more though.

Now that I compare my wishes to the ones I listed in 2020, I see an interesting trend, in that despite better quality of life, my wishes are still largely the same. No, that’s not entirely true: they’re bolder, in fact. I wonder what this means.

#WeekendCoffeeShare (February 27, 2026)

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I’m joining #WeekendCoffeeShare today. It’s just past 5:30PM as I start typing this blog post, so I’ll still have my evening coffee at 7PM. If you’d like to grab a drink too, feel free to get yourself a cup or glass of your favorite beverage and let’s chat.

If we were having coffee, first I’d talk about the weather. It’s been crazy! Crazy good in my opinion, in that yesterday and on Wednesday, the daytime temp climbed to 17°C. Today we had a daytime high of 15°C and more wind. It’s raining now too, which I’m told is necessary, as the winter has been horribly dry over here.

If we were having coffee, then I’d tell you that I reached my movement goal on my Apple Watch each day this week. Yesterday and on Wednesday, I even doubled it. I also broke my exercise minutes record yesterday. I mostly went for walks, but on Tuesday, I also rode the side-by-side bike to Deventer to get some shopping done. City representatives were having a survey about the bike-friendliness of the city. I accepted the flyer because the person handing it out was making a fuss of how special the side-by-side bike is. And also, we got a free serving of “poffertjes”. Note to self: actually do that survey!

On Wednesday I also rode the side-by-side bike to the nearby lakeshore to have a cup of coffee and a piece of caramel pie. No pictures this time, but it’s the same caramel pie I had a few times last year too. I must say, this place is pretty budget-friendly, in that I only paid €6.95.

If we were having coffee, I’d provide an update on my medical situation. I had bloodwork done on Monday because of increasing IBS symptoms. Thankfully, nothing came out of it. I’m okay just dealing with the pain and discomfort, knowing that at least it’s not something more serious.

This is not necessarily the case with respect to my involuntary movements and tremors. Like I shared on Saturday, my doctor says they’ll only get worse because I’m getting older. I call bullshit to that, in that, while literally everyone gets older, it’s not like I’m elderly at 39. My wife looked up tardive dyskinesia (TD) as a result of medications, which my doctor didn’t mention specifically but then again she never mentions anything specifically. If I have this, there’s some medication for it in the works, but it isn’t available in Europe yet.

My wife at one point mentioned that this medication is prescribed to people with Huntington’s Disease too. I know there are similarities between tardive dyskinesia and Huntington’s, but I didn’t know how far these go. I finally joined a TD group on Facebook and asked. Thankfully, TD is not a death sentence and it may not even progress. That doesn’t mean I’m no longer distressed, because, quite frankly, unlike my IBS symptoms, the involuntary movements significantly impair me.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you I decreased my antipsychotic again starting today. I’m now on 9mg of aripiprazole. I’d expected to get one 5mg tablet and four 1mg tablets, but for some stupid reason I got nine 1mg tablets. This means I can now just about barely swallow all of my pills at once.

If we were having coffee, finally I’d share that the talk with my support coordinator on Sunday was a bit disappointing. There are several things about my care that frustrate me and she told me it’ll take months before there’ll be any significant changes. Thankfully, she didn’t mean my day schedule. That might change a little sooner. She also scheduled a meeting with the behavior specialist who’s now responsible for my home now that the regular one is on maternity leave. That meeting will be on March 10.

This Divorce Thing Stirs Up More Than I’d Like to Admit…

Posted on by Astrid

Hi all. Earlier this evening, I started in a book called something like Bitchslap Journaling. It is a spiritually-based journaling guide. The original Bitchslap prompt is to write down what you desire, need and expect. The author advised readers to use tarot cards for further reflection.

My initial thought re my desire was related to my care. I desire to experience more, do more fun activities, finally create that standing unicorn…

Then I drew a tarot card on Labyrinthos: I got the Seven of Cups. Cups are about relationships and love. Off the top of my head, I can’t remember what the author of the Bitchslap journaling book said Sevens mean and my Kindle app keeps crashing, but it wasn’t pretty.

Today, my wife had a visit from a person to determine the value of our house because of financial aspects related to our divorce. The outcome of this assessment doesn’t change my opinion on financial matters, but it is yet another reminder that we’re truly divorcing.

Last Sunday, when my wife and I were talking about the divorce, I said I couldn’t care less about it. What I meant is I couldn’t care less whether we divorce or stay married, in that little has changed to make me want to divorce. I was pretty clear when we first got married that we wouldn’t be living together. The thought of living together did enter our minds about a month after we got married when a living place that I’d been on the waiting list for over a year for turned out not to be suitable for me. Regular readers know the rest: after years of constantly making up our minds about whether we wanted to live together or not, I was forced to live with my wife because the psychiatric hospital kicked me out. This is one positive of us divorcing for me: the care agency won’t be able to use my wife as an excuse to kick me out.

Other than that though, even though I know rationally that we never had the kind of relationship spouses usually do, this whole thing makes me feel distressed.

I don’t want to go into the details of why my wife and I are divorcing on a public blog. Suffice it to say that, like I said, we never had the kind of relationship spouses usually do. We were always more like best friends than lovers and that’s not going to change. Looking back, we should never have gotten married.

Still, my wife feels like my safe person and I fear that’s going to change once we’re divorced. The house is only a symbol of that. I know that if I showed up at her doorstep saying I was going to live with her again, things’d be much, much messier than they are now. Still though, it hurts to know I essentially signed myself up for a life in institutions and there’s no going back on that one. There I’m returning to my original desire before I drew the tarot card.