Inspection introspective…..

It’s been over a week now and I’m still running on full recovery mode, switching over to Auto pilot at times when needed,(and it is) Existing mainly thanks to large doses of diluted caffeine(coffee), which is used for sloshing down pain meds. The cause of this latest drama? “The dreaded landlord’s inspection”. Yes it’s that time again, and there’s really no other way to put this, than I loathe it. I try to see it for what it is, nothing personal…but to this person it very much is, and feels all too personal.

I’m someone who isolates, insulates, (whatever we’re calling it now. At least 90% of my life is spent very much alone, with the Exception of course for Jesse on chat, which is constant (via Meet) A strange rabbit with early onset dementia, and a budgie with a filthy runaway mouth, It’s a crazy household, but for the most part my crazy household, One where I feel the need to bolt up the settlements, pull up the drawbridge, set loose the rabid killer pigoens, and repel all incoming borders with zealous…I know if I’m honest this isn’t healthy, mentally, I’ve struggled since childhood to blend in with humanity, which only grows more prominent the older I get..I’ve never been diagnosed, but I’m convinced alongside EDS, there’s every chance I’m on the low Autism spectrum,

Give me a field full of horses, room full of dogs and I am instantly in my element, relaxing beyond all recognition. Yet one lone human and I become a ball of shaking anxiety. One human in my home and it feels like imminent catastrophe…this is no exaggeration either, I would like to say im joking, but we know I’m not..and it is unfortunately far from funny. The moment I get that dreaded email fore warning an inspection..I feel the tension mount daily. Spiralling up inside my body like the bindweed, growing about me until it threatens to strangle me…I’ve tried everything to see it for what it is, a positive. a necessary evil.

What’s worse is I’ve really nothing to hide, my home is not only kept clean, (at the last inspection the guy went so far as to say “it’s immaculate as always”)and it is,. No wonder though as I rush about in a caffeine fuelled frenzy for weeks, cleaning everything in sight to operating theatre standard…if it’s stationary it’s coming under my exacting standards. Bleach cloth in hand at the ready.polish in the other… Why? Because this is the one solitary thing in my mind at least, I can control at the time…it’s a distraction, a need. I can’t control the thought patterns eating away at my mind., or my reaction to that pattern., So I use the flooding adrenaline coursing through my veins to good effect..helping this build up of excess energy on its way by endless cleaning.

The uncomfortable knowledge that my landlord has a set of keys and the law on his side to enter the property at any given time, is also little comfort either.,Since changing the locks goes against the tenancy agreement…it’s an impass I’m stuck in, Every six months the madness begins once again and only increases each time, Working up to what feels like some impending disaster, which is always survived, but exhausting non the less…

I have online friends who trying to be kind, supportive and reassuring, say quite rightly “well that’s that over again for now”. And of course yes putting it in perspective, yes of course it is.., They are correct..but inside for me the adrenaline goes on flooding long after, remaining tension effecting every organ and muscle, I find it near on impossible to come back down to earth, .. Even then there’s that constant feeling of invasion, I’m not sure if you remember or have read my back story, but when I was a kid I survived being attacked..I survived!, ….but having a man in the immediate vicinity, especially in my home where I feel trapped without means of escape, even after all these years, is still a terrifying prospect, whether its reality or no.. impacting my whole life…

I have worked hard on myself over years to combat much of this with some success, I was much worse in the past.. And up until relatively recently,. I can now at least leave my home, if I’m feeling brave even at night..it has taken 30 over years and was agonisingly slow in its progress, literally one small step at a time. I still hide much of the fallout from events of years ago behind a well worn mask…to most I appear confident, happy, enjoying my life…it’s an appearance I encourage, a lie if you like…because to me enough damage has already been done, I refuse to allow myself either of the well used labels “Victim”, or “survivor” because I’m neither…I’m just taking each day on its merits…both good and bad alike…

On the up side to these moments of crazy cleaning, the mishaps are daily…like after spending an hour on my hands and knees scrubbing my kitchen floor, three times no less, it gleamed in the early morning sunlight, I stood back in the doorway coffee in hand admiring all my hard work, a second load of washing finished, brilliant I thought now I can get that on the line before my knees give out …..grab the laundry basket, pull the clothes out…….and along with it came a whole load of tissue tinsel, it went over every piece of available floor space, even out into the small gap between rooms, with being so tired I must have forgotten to check my trouser pockets for tissues…

I sliced my finger and a blood fountain errupted up the wall and over the cream carpets, you can tell I’m a CSI fan from way back though, I’m dripping blood around the floor and what am I fascinated with…eww blood spatter pattern detection, sighs…Sage the budgie decided this is the week for a bad molt, feathers everywhere, how does he get them in my cupboards is what I want to know?.

Don’t ask about the meeting of the snow globe and my head, I’ve still a lump weeks later, not to mention a bedroom carpet im still hoovering glitter up from…. throughout all this madness though even I had a moment of sheer hilarity…one morning early as I’m about my routine, the front door bell rings, I can already see it’s the postman, and go to answer the door…He stands with a light grey plastic package in one hand, looking more than a little bemused…He asks my name…which is unusual as his my regular postman…but I go along with it, tell him ….he looks at the address label, looks at me, back at the label…so you names Theresa …….., “Erm yes I think so I reply” he lifts his cap, scratches his head, shrugs his shoulders hands me the package and leaves…I think nothing of it at the time and get back to what I was doing…leaving the package on the sofa for later…..

Much later!….

So sometime after lunch, I remember finally about the package laying dejected upon the sofa….I retrieve it and turn it over in my hands trying to guess what I had sent for…it’s always Christmas here I never remember what I order…as I turn it over, there written in huge black letters on one side are the words Odd Balls, below is written doing our bit towards testicular cancer…..😁, I remember at once of course palm slap….I ordered more woman’s shorts undies, they’re lush, soft and the brightest garish design and colours….yeah I know what if I have an accident or taken ill😁, but least they will be clean….😁Anyhow it’s then I relive the odd looks from my postie….of course the poor man knows I live alone, and there I am getting Odd Ball pants delivered,….oh well least in his eyes things are never dull 😁😁😁😁😁. Well that’s enough from me I’m away to swing me pants…Take care of yourselves folks and look after you 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜x