Fair enough just felt we can effectively (Probably more effectively given international members not familiar with UK slang words) communicate the concept of "cheapness" without using a derogatory term frequently used against or referring to any one of a collection of nomadic minority ethnic groups (Travellers for non UK folk).
I'm just tired of being told what to think and how to feel. Utterly, utterly tired of it.
When I was diagnosed autistic I brought my whole life into question. Every single moment. What could I have said or done differently. This caused many years of inner turmoil, self blame and self loathing. Yet the conclusion, after almost a decade? stop thinking that no one else's poop stinks but your own and stop blaming yourself.
Whatever happened to sticks and stones? and "Ignore them and be the better person"? That is what I was taught to do, whether I wanted to beat the living pee out of someone or not. And I did it. And I got good at it.
I'm not surprised at all that so many these days don't know who they are. They are being liberally forced into things that maybe they are just not capable of. And thus pressure to perform is at a ridiculous high and people end up self questioning themselves so much they don't even know who or what they are.
I don't like it. At all. Passive aggression is more dangerous than physical aggression. Forcing someone against their will to change their entire thought process is not something I would ever entertain.
Thoughts and feelings are real. You can not program yourself to do otherwise. Otherwise every single time you speak or chat you need to think. Which I can tell you is absolutely exhausting.
For the past two years my care worker whom I pay £19 an hour two hours a week has been a lazy little slob. When I have an emergency (like having a chemical cosh prescribed because I am climbing the walls in illness) she forgot to collect my prescription. For nearly a month.
I asked her to read my meters (as that is what she supposedly is here for) on her way out two months ago. On her way out, past the meter, out the front door. She forgot, leaving me ill with worry for three weeks.
Yesterday I dared to write this to her in an email.
Overall xxxxxxxx I feel let down. I once asked you what would happen if anything happened to mum and you said I would be helped and given two hours a week. It’s upsetting that the money keeps vanishing from my account every week, yet every week I feel more and more alone. I don’t ask for much and I don’t like complaining, but its starting to make me very sad.
Which I don't think was bad at all. In fact, it was about as nice as I could be. Know what she did? threw a strop and passed it onto a higher up.
That is what we are making, those are who we are creating. She gets £19 an hour for old rope and if you DARE to say anything she throws her toys out of the pram.
So I think fat lazy little cow seems rather fitting. Maybe I should have been a little more honest in my approach rather than candy coating it?