By Fatma Durmush
Key Themes: diary, memoirs, schizophrenia
A diary in the life of me.
About the Author
Durmush writes in London with constant demons on her heels she is recovering from stress related exhaustion and the diary reflects this time in her life. Property is explored is it valid to have property when you are suffering from mental illness? Should people who are vulnerable have anything but what they are given? Why should they be given property by their families why should mad people own things?
Madness is an illness and ill people need property more than anyone else. Would you throw a pensioner to the work house because they have no energy to clean their houses? What right do you have to judge this? Who gives you the right to hold such black and white opinions? Why shouldn’t sick people have the same rights as everybody else?
The diary progresses and one is not answered, the questions are all left in the air but assuming it can be answered it is up to the public to understand that existing is not living that we all need to have things.
Durmush is very dark but she realises her limitations she can’t be in two places at the same time and she holds the view neither can anyone else.
What happens to a 50 year old woman with disabilities? Everything and nothing. Life of course has countless bumps- It has great deal of circumvolution many paths and majority that’s undignified. Numerous came and went this year like moths in my path sometimes wanted to push them away like flies. Couldn’t because they were not moths but individuals and didn’t want bad things happening. Played the idiot, the unknown factor that’s what helped me. Luckily am now sat in front of the computer where I belong writing this. It was touch and go whether would make it. It was such a filthy year that nothing made sense my nearest and dearest seemed to be against me and my nearest seemed to be strangers. The cause was fought it was a bit like Rowlands Potter and the sword welding hero only not a hero, a mad person of limited sense and means and fighting who? I don’t know, it did not make sense, it was an impossible thing that I did what became of me? Don’t think anything became of me that was out of the ordinary. Would’ve done anything to be sat in one peace doing nothing but enjoying myself. It was not meant to be I was to act so fast that it confused me.
First thing the tenant did not pay his rent for 7 ½ months. Our lawyer said he did not know what to do. I rang the Forum and they recommended I get the bailiffs. The lawyer being who he was ended chatting to the tenants lawyers. Another month dragged by. The lawyer saying don’t worry your rent is piling up.
Desperate, determined and poor. Mum too embarrassed for I was doing the shopping with my money it has become so difficult our savings gone. A bore without money that is what I am. Destitute and so dependent on my part time job to make ends meet. Usually a spendthrift but have to watch the pennies, watch every move I make in case we lose the cafe.
Ring the bailiffs on 29/5/2009 and he said, “Send me a fax with your mums’ signature!” Take mum to the nearest fax office which is in Woolwich. Luckily she can just about walk the distance. It’s touch and go whether she’ll sit down on the bus stop and rest and the shops are closing and everything is shutting down for the night and tomorrow it would be too late.
Receive faxes from work lucky otherwise what would have happened to me? To the shop? To Mum’s hard work? To her leg and peaceful old age? It would have been over and a poverty that only comes in old age would have been our lot.
It was the great day we paid the bailiffs with Mum’s money. Mum thought she would not see the results, that it was a con. She went quiet, as if she was in hell and knowing this I was in hell. What if there was trouble. Didn’t sleep very well keep on having nightmares. Mum has given her leg to that cafe and because of that tenant we are destitute. It’s our cafe.
1st of June, the bailiffs changed the locks.
We couldn’t believe it at long last the cafe’s vacant. Our family business safe from the tenant who’d not pay because of the recession but in reality greed. He wants the cafe for free.
He has said he’ll halve the rent to £350 a month and we said no. Because dad had said when he was alive that that way the business could be taken over. At long last was able to sleep.
We went to see the shop in a week’s time and it looked ok. We sorted the fridges because everything would smell. We heard from the solicitors the tenant wanted everything like papers, files, TV and computers. I asked R to help and Mum too.