WARNING: little bit of content that could be considered adult.
Right .. so ... last week I tried to commit suicide. Not going to discuss it any further, and don't wish for your judgement or opinions on doing it, admitting to doing it, or posting in my blog about it. I just want to illustrate how much I am not coping.
I have had M.E. since 2001. When I first hit that wall I didn't think it was possible to be any more ill (with M.E.). I used to assess how I was in % of normal. I can't do that anymore, as I don't remember what it feels like to be healthy and normal. I gradually increased over the years. At the beginning of last year my body started asking me to exercise, so I started sessions with a fitness instructor, and I started seeking work again. I don't know what happened in June, but I became ill. I'm fairly certain I had pneumonia, though anti biotics didn't help me. I also think my body was reacting very badly to gluten, as it was only when I started eating rice that I started to recover. I had been on deaths door. Far far worse than when I first became ill in 2001. I did not know it was possible to be that ill and not die. I am still now far more ill than I was in 2001, but thankfully not as ill as I was last year.
However, I am now alone. And I cannot cope. I cannot feed myself properly. Everyone always tells you that if you eat properly you'll be healthy. Well, if I could manage to do so, I would. I have no freezer, so I am having to try and live on things that don't perish in a fridge. This means I've very little meat in my diet, and virtually no vegetables. I cannot get out to do my shopping, so am living on a fortnightly Tesco delivery. I finished the gluten free diet a few weeks ago, so am having to eat gluten to prove whether I react to it or not. I do. It feels like a lead balloon in my stomach, it makes me tired, grumpy, and depressed. But it's yummy, and most foods that are not perishable contain it. So basically, I'm poisoning myself. If I don't eat I start shaking, feeling nauseous, weak, starved almost. Yet I actually panic at the thought of eating because of how I know it will make me feel.
I went out for a little less than an hour last Wednesday, to view a house. A twenty minute drive there, look round a very bland house, and twenty minute drive back. I was already too weak and unfocused to drive safely. When I got in I literally sank to the hallway floor and just lay there. My body didn't want to move me to the settee or upstairs to bed. It just wanted to remain still. I was too exhausted even to cry. I was unable to stand properly for the rest of the day, and unable to stomach any food. There was no option for me of having the TV on as it would have been too loud and too busy.
I can't put into words how much I am struggling with my health, obviously. I'm not doing a very good job of painting that picture. But I just no longer want to be in this body. It fails me over and over and over again. I'm so tired of guessing what it's doing, or trying to figure out if everything is M.E., or if there's something else to worry about. I'm tired of being in pain, nauseous, tired, of being so weak I can't walk, or sometimes even lift my arms. And I'm tired of having to justify myself and my illness to everyone all the time.
So my doctor referred me to a specialist. He was not familiar with M.E. specialists so I contacted the M.E. Association for him to find out where my nearest ones were. As it happens they are way too far away for me to get to without someone else's help. This isn't what influenced my doctor's decision though; he looked at the waiting lists, said that 500 years was way too long, and referred me to a rheumatologist instead. I honestly have no idea why he chose rheumatology. My appointment was last week .. or the week before .. I'm losing track of time a lot at the moment. The rheumatologist was completely perplexed as to what she was supposed to do for me. She had no interest in M.E. at all, and blatantly told me to stop talking about it. She assessed my mobility and diagnosed me with Hypermobility and elements of Fibromyalgia. I've known for years that I was hypermobile, but never actually had it diagnosed before; what I didn't know was that that in itself could be causing some of my pain. I was surprised that she only diagnosed me with elements of FM, especially considering we didn't discuss it for more than two or three minutes. She's referring me to physiotherapy for them both, and she has told me to not tell the therapist that I have M.E.. That worries me. She has also asked my doctor to prescribe me Amitriptyline and Tramadol. I told her that last time I was on Amitriptyline it nearly killed me but she was unconcerned.
G had an appointment with the hospital on the same day. He has a lump on his throat that keeps coming up and going down. It's a swollen gland. But he's not willing to believe that (despite two nurses and a doctor telling him so) so he's having it poked and prodded by as many people as possible. When he left the hospital he texted me telling me how it had gone. I replied with comments, as any normal person would. When I left the hospital I also texted him telling him how my appointment had gone; no comment from him. When I spoke to him that evening, again he was completely disinterested in discussing my day, only his. It's a big deal for me that I wasted months waiting for an appointment with a specialist who had no interest in me. It's a big deal for me that I received two diagnoses. And it's also a big deal for me that I'm going to be put on medication that I really don't want to touch with a barge pole. And this is a big issue for me; he is completely self obsessed.
I made the very hard decision a few weeks ago to tell him that I could not move in with him. He was very understanding. I thought he'd make a bit of a fuss because of everything he'd been saying for months. He's constantly been telling me that he can't wait to live together, that it'll be great to sit around a nice warm fire in the winter, that we'll have a local pub to go to every week for quiz night, etc. He keeps telling me how lonely he is. That he's lived alone for eleven years, and he wants someone to share his life with. It was when he told me that Jess and he had been planning to move in together, in the same area, before they split up that I suddenly realised that it isn't me he wants to live with. He just wants someone, anyone, and to not be alone. It needs to be the right person, otherwise there will be no happiness.
This is the tip of the iceberg though. I thought I broke up with him the Monday after my birthday, only I don't think he has understood that. Or maybe he has, as he wasn't sending me good night texts saying he loves me prior to that.
My birthday! He promised me a four day birthday extravaganza. He had to take the Thursday (my birthday) off work anyway, so he decided to take the Friday off and make a weekend of it. So, he turned up here on Thursday afternoon with a bunch of beautiful roses and a box of my favourite chocolates. I was impressed. We went out for dinner, for which I paid. When we got back, he told me that he had to work Friday after all, and he left at 9pm saying he'd be back after work. Friday evening he texted saying he was going to wait for Saturday's post to arrive. Saturday afternoon he texted saying he couldn't come because the tread on his tyres was too low. I told him that I knew he wasn't going to come back anyway. So, the next thing I knew he turned up on my doorstep .. presumably to prove me wrong. I sent him home again an hour or so later. I was disappointed and just didn't want to be around him. He's always building things up, and then they never happen.
So, we have self obsessed, and we have making promises we don't keep. It doesn't sound that bad does it. He's supposed to be my Dom. He's supposed to be a decision maker, and in control, amongst other things. He is not in control. When I first met him I did not know that he had financial difficulties. However, he did know that I would be coming into a large chunk of money when the divorce was over. I asked him a few weeks ago whether it was me or the money that he wanted to live with. He said that he had asked himself this question many times, and that it was me. Well, sorry G, but the fact that you had to ask yourself the question at all shows that it's the money. I have managed to stop him from getting Pay Day loans every month. I watched him cut the card up. This does mean however that he's been having more than half of my benefit in order to keep himself running. He had expected me to pay £10,000 debt off for him. I said no. As soon as I said no everything changed between us. His spirits dropped, he's been miserable, and irritable. It's the money .. not me! So I researched and found that he is eligible for a Debt Relief Order. This will wipe out his entire debt so long as he sticks to certain conditions for a year. Rather excited I told him. He already knew. I suddenly realised that he would rather have had me pay £10,000 of my money for his debt, than sort it out himself. An easy route. I was so angry. I still am to be honest. But that moment, I fell out of love with him.
The final straw for me is alcohol. I know the money should be enough. He knows very well that I am extremely uncomfortable around alcohol because of things that have happened to me in my past. Yet, over the time I've known him he's drank more and more of it around me. His excuse has usually been 'It's the weekend, I need to relax!'. One evening, he decided to take my car, which was already flashing on empty, for an hours drive to an all night supermarket so that he could buy some beer, and drive an hour back again; knowing that he had had the last of my money so I'd not be able to fill the tank up again. I was lucky to get home the following day. He has finally admitted that he has a problem with alcohol, and sworn to stop drinking so much. Though in the same breath said that he has to have a pint with work colleagues during the week otherwise they'll know there's a problem.
So, the crux of the issue for me is that to be with him I actually have to become Dominant. I have to watch what happens with every penny, every bill, the wages coming in, etc. And I will have to watch him with alcohol. He's already proved that he can't give up smoking. I don't have the energy to do that. I don't have the motivation or inclination either, but it's the energy that's the important thing. The stress from trying to live that way would be detrimental to my health, which is somewhat ironic considering that he's been telling me for months that being together would make us both happy, and therefore my health would improve vastly.
And then there's C. C is someone I met online just before I met G. I had no idea he fancied me at all. We lost touch, then he hunted me down on a forum. Being a moron I still didn't think he fancied me, until he told me anyway. Since he told me he's been trying to push me, or lure me, into having sex with him. He didn't care that I was with G, and he doesn't want a relationship. I am rather perplexed as to what he really does want to be honest. The pressure he puts on me though is horrible. He knows what happened last week, and yet he's still pushing. This tells me that he too, is selfish, and somewhat inconsiderate. I know from experience with him that he finds it impossible to admit when he's at fault.
He did offer me his place for storage and even a room though, when I decided that I couldn't live with G. Very obviously a bad idea from the moment it popped out of his fingers.
Whilst deciding to not live with G was obviously the right decision, it did put me in a rather difficult position. I suddenly had nowhere lined up to live. Ian was asking me for a completion date so I told him the end of this month hoping I'd find something. When I told him that I had nowhere lined up he and the estate agent came to the agreement that a completion date wouldn't be agreed until I had actually found somewhere. This put the pressure on me to find somewhere, but that was a good thing.
Looking was very depressing. Searching through rightmove.co.uk and similar sites turned up absolutely nothing, and exhausted me. So the next day I dug out the last few weeks newspapers and had a look through. Still not much, but at least I knew which agents to phone. As soon as you explain to someone that you require a ground floor because you have mobility problems they don't want to help you. I tried agents around here, and agents near G. One, local to myself wanted to help.
I've looked at quite a few properties. The first one I looked at was so small and yet so expensive that I had to laugh. It scared me though, that something so small would be so expensive. I didn't think I'd find anything reasonable. I saw a HUGE property though, for less than the first one; it was a semi detached, and had three bedrooms. The problem with it was that it would have added two hours on my journey for when I travel down south. I've settled on a ground floor one bedroom maisonette that isn't all that far from here. It was a relief to have made the decision.
The day before yesterday one of the ladies from our estate agents office phoned me up. She was supposed to phone me weeks ago to help me find somewhere, because of the situation being urgent. She hadn't done so, obviously. I told her that I had found somewhere, that I had paid the deposit, was awaiting the application form, and had no moving date. An hour later she phoned me up to ask what my moving date was. I said I didn't have one. She tried to push me for one, and then told me I had to bring it forward. I told her it was completely out of my control, that I don't know how these things work, but when I know what's happening I'd update the agent. I couldn't believe how pushy she was being after she had never even tried to help me to start with. She stressed me out. All my spoons were gone before my day had even started.
So yesterday when Ian phoned to tell me we were going to lose the sale, I thought the bottom had fallen out of the world. The buyers apparently had told the estate agent that they had been round here the previous night, and I'd told them that I'm not planning to move out. This was a complete blatant lie. I sat here that evening, on my PC, without the TV on. If anyone had even knocked at the door I would have heard them.
I suddenly realised that all of the things I'd thought were misunderstandings, were these pair lying. Her father, who lives in France, is buying it for them, so I had figured that communications between them and him, and then to the estate agents, were getting confused. Apparently not.
A few days after they viewed the property a guy knocked on our door saying he had noticed the For Sale sign and would like to have a quick gander on behalf of his old Dad. He had a look round saying he'd change this, and do that to it, and left. I spoke to Ian a few days later and he said that I'd spoken to their builder. Apparently this guy was not looking at the house for himself at all, but was a builder from them seeing whether the changes they want to make are likely to be possible. I don't understand why he didn't just tell me that!
They told the estate agent that we had planning for a roof conversion. We don't. We put a solid floor down in the loft, but we never got any further than that, and I never suggested that we did. Oh, I can't remember what else they've said. It doesn't really matter. I don't understand why they would tell lies that are very obviously going to be found out as wrong. I don't understand what their motivation is in saying they're going to pull out of the sale, and then in the next breath say they have to be in the house by the end of the month because their lease runs out. I feel really bad for my neighbours having these people move in here.
So, yesterday, our estate agent went to my lettings agent and picked up the forms for me to fill them in. Today one of his colleagues collected them from me, and has delivered them back to my letting agent. I will probably be moving next weekend. I am scared.
So when I received a letter this morning from the Job Centre informing that I have a Work Programme appointment next week I just figured there's nothing else the world can throw at me at the moment. I'm sure I'll be proved wrong in about five minutes though.
Right .. so ... last week I tried to commit suicide. Not going to discuss it any further, and don't wish for your judgement or opinions on doing it, admitting to doing it, or posting in my blog about it. I just want to illustrate how much I am not coping.
I have had M.E. since 2001. When I first hit that wall I didn't think it was possible to be any more ill (with M.E.). I used to assess how I was in % of normal. I can't do that anymore, as I don't remember what it feels like to be healthy and normal. I gradually increased over the years. At the beginning of last year my body started asking me to exercise, so I started sessions with a fitness instructor, and I started seeking work again. I don't know what happened in June, but I became ill. I'm fairly certain I had pneumonia, though anti biotics didn't help me. I also think my body was reacting very badly to gluten, as it was only when I started eating rice that I started to recover. I had been on deaths door. Far far worse than when I first became ill in 2001. I did not know it was possible to be that ill and not die. I am still now far more ill than I was in 2001, but thankfully not as ill as I was last year.
However, I am now alone. And I cannot cope. I cannot feed myself properly. Everyone always tells you that if you eat properly you'll be healthy. Well, if I could manage to do so, I would. I have no freezer, so I am having to try and live on things that don't perish in a fridge. This means I've very little meat in my diet, and virtually no vegetables. I cannot get out to do my shopping, so am living on a fortnightly Tesco delivery. I finished the gluten free diet a few weeks ago, so am having to eat gluten to prove whether I react to it or not. I do. It feels like a lead balloon in my stomach, it makes me tired, grumpy, and depressed. But it's yummy, and most foods that are not perishable contain it. So basically, I'm poisoning myself. If I don't eat I start shaking, feeling nauseous, weak, starved almost. Yet I actually panic at the thought of eating because of how I know it will make me feel.
I went out for a little less than an hour last Wednesday, to view a house. A twenty minute drive there, look round a very bland house, and twenty minute drive back. I was already too weak and unfocused to drive safely. When I got in I literally sank to the hallway floor and just lay there. My body didn't want to move me to the settee or upstairs to bed. It just wanted to remain still. I was too exhausted even to cry. I was unable to stand properly for the rest of the day, and unable to stomach any food. There was no option for me of having the TV on as it would have been too loud and too busy.
I can't put into words how much I am struggling with my health, obviously. I'm not doing a very good job of painting that picture. But I just no longer want to be in this body. It fails me over and over and over again. I'm so tired of guessing what it's doing, or trying to figure out if everything is M.E., or if there's something else to worry about. I'm tired of being in pain, nauseous, tired, of being so weak I can't walk, or sometimes even lift my arms. And I'm tired of having to justify myself and my illness to everyone all the time.
So my doctor referred me to a specialist. He was not familiar with M.E. specialists so I contacted the M.E. Association for him to find out where my nearest ones were. As it happens they are way too far away for me to get to without someone else's help. This isn't what influenced my doctor's decision though; he looked at the waiting lists, said that 500 years was way too long, and referred me to a rheumatologist instead. I honestly have no idea why he chose rheumatology. My appointment was last week .. or the week before .. I'm losing track of time a lot at the moment. The rheumatologist was completely perplexed as to what she was supposed to do for me. She had no interest in M.E. at all, and blatantly told me to stop talking about it. She assessed my mobility and diagnosed me with Hypermobility and elements of Fibromyalgia. I've known for years that I was hypermobile, but never actually had it diagnosed before; what I didn't know was that that in itself could be causing some of my pain. I was surprised that she only diagnosed me with elements of FM, especially considering we didn't discuss it for more than two or three minutes. She's referring me to physiotherapy for them both, and she has told me to not tell the therapist that I have M.E.. That worries me. She has also asked my doctor to prescribe me Amitriptyline and Tramadol. I told her that last time I was on Amitriptyline it nearly killed me but she was unconcerned.
G had an appointment with the hospital on the same day. He has a lump on his throat that keeps coming up and going down. It's a swollen gland. But he's not willing to believe that (despite two nurses and a doctor telling him so) so he's having it poked and prodded by as many people as possible. When he left the hospital he texted me telling me how it had gone. I replied with comments, as any normal person would. When I left the hospital I also texted him telling him how my appointment had gone; no comment from him. When I spoke to him that evening, again he was completely disinterested in discussing my day, only his. It's a big deal for me that I wasted months waiting for an appointment with a specialist who had no interest in me. It's a big deal for me that I received two diagnoses. And it's also a big deal for me that I'm going to be put on medication that I really don't want to touch with a barge pole. And this is a big issue for me; he is completely self obsessed.
I made the very hard decision a few weeks ago to tell him that I could not move in with him. He was very understanding. I thought he'd make a bit of a fuss because of everything he'd been saying for months. He's constantly been telling me that he can't wait to live together, that it'll be great to sit around a nice warm fire in the winter, that we'll have a local pub to go to every week for quiz night, etc. He keeps telling me how lonely he is. That he's lived alone for eleven years, and he wants someone to share his life with. It was when he told me that Jess and he had been planning to move in together, in the same area, before they split up that I suddenly realised that it isn't me he wants to live with. He just wants someone, anyone, and to not be alone. It needs to be the right person, otherwise there will be no happiness.
This is the tip of the iceberg though. I thought I broke up with him the Monday after my birthday, only I don't think he has understood that. Or maybe he has, as he wasn't sending me good night texts saying he loves me prior to that.
My birthday! He promised me a four day birthday extravaganza. He had to take the Thursday (my birthday) off work anyway, so he decided to take the Friday off and make a weekend of it. So, he turned up here on Thursday afternoon with a bunch of beautiful roses and a box of my favourite chocolates. I was impressed. We went out for dinner, for which I paid. When we got back, he told me that he had to work Friday after all, and he left at 9pm saying he'd be back after work. Friday evening he texted saying he was going to wait for Saturday's post to arrive. Saturday afternoon he texted saying he couldn't come because the tread on his tyres was too low. I told him that I knew he wasn't going to come back anyway. So, the next thing I knew he turned up on my doorstep .. presumably to prove me wrong. I sent him home again an hour or so later. I was disappointed and just didn't want to be around him. He's always building things up, and then they never happen.
So, we have self obsessed, and we have making promises we don't keep. It doesn't sound that bad does it. He's supposed to be my Dom. He's supposed to be a decision maker, and in control, amongst other things. He is not in control. When I first met him I did not know that he had financial difficulties. However, he did know that I would be coming into a large chunk of money when the divorce was over. I asked him a few weeks ago whether it was me or the money that he wanted to live with. He said that he had asked himself this question many times, and that it was me. Well, sorry G, but the fact that you had to ask yourself the question at all shows that it's the money. I have managed to stop him from getting Pay Day loans every month. I watched him cut the card up. This does mean however that he's been having more than half of my benefit in order to keep himself running. He had expected me to pay £10,000 debt off for him. I said no. As soon as I said no everything changed between us. His spirits dropped, he's been miserable, and irritable. It's the money .. not me! So I researched and found that he is eligible for a Debt Relief Order. This will wipe out his entire debt so long as he sticks to certain conditions for a year. Rather excited I told him. He already knew. I suddenly realised that he would rather have had me pay £10,000 of my money for his debt, than sort it out himself. An easy route. I was so angry. I still am to be honest. But that moment, I fell out of love with him.
The final straw for me is alcohol. I know the money should be enough. He knows very well that I am extremely uncomfortable around alcohol because of things that have happened to me in my past. Yet, over the time I've known him he's drank more and more of it around me. His excuse has usually been 'It's the weekend, I need to relax!'. One evening, he decided to take my car, which was already flashing on empty, for an hours drive to an all night supermarket so that he could buy some beer, and drive an hour back again; knowing that he had had the last of my money so I'd not be able to fill the tank up again. I was lucky to get home the following day. He has finally admitted that he has a problem with alcohol, and sworn to stop drinking so much. Though in the same breath said that he has to have a pint with work colleagues during the week otherwise they'll know there's a problem.
So, the crux of the issue for me is that to be with him I actually have to become Dominant. I have to watch what happens with every penny, every bill, the wages coming in, etc. And I will have to watch him with alcohol. He's already proved that he can't give up smoking. I don't have the energy to do that. I don't have the motivation or inclination either, but it's the energy that's the important thing. The stress from trying to live that way would be detrimental to my health, which is somewhat ironic considering that he's been telling me for months that being together would make us both happy, and therefore my health would improve vastly.
And then there's C. C is someone I met online just before I met G. I had no idea he fancied me at all. We lost touch, then he hunted me down on a forum. Being a moron I still didn't think he fancied me, until he told me anyway. Since he told me he's been trying to push me, or lure me, into having sex with him. He didn't care that I was with G, and he doesn't want a relationship. I am rather perplexed as to what he really does want to be honest. The pressure he puts on me though is horrible. He knows what happened last week, and yet he's still pushing. This tells me that he too, is selfish, and somewhat inconsiderate. I know from experience with him that he finds it impossible to admit when he's at fault.
He did offer me his place for storage and even a room though, when I decided that I couldn't live with G. Very obviously a bad idea from the moment it popped out of his fingers.
Whilst deciding to not live with G was obviously the right decision, it did put me in a rather difficult position. I suddenly had nowhere lined up to live. Ian was asking me for a completion date so I told him the end of this month hoping I'd find something. When I told him that I had nowhere lined up he and the estate agent came to the agreement that a completion date wouldn't be agreed until I had actually found somewhere. This put the pressure on me to find somewhere, but that was a good thing.
Looking was very depressing. Searching through rightmove.co.uk and similar sites turned up absolutely nothing, and exhausted me. So the next day I dug out the last few weeks newspapers and had a look through. Still not much, but at least I knew which agents to phone. As soon as you explain to someone that you require a ground floor because you have mobility problems they don't want to help you. I tried agents around here, and agents near G. One, local to myself wanted to help.
I've looked at quite a few properties. The first one I looked at was so small and yet so expensive that I had to laugh. It scared me though, that something so small would be so expensive. I didn't think I'd find anything reasonable. I saw a HUGE property though, for less than the first one; it was a semi detached, and had three bedrooms. The problem with it was that it would have added two hours on my journey for when I travel down south. I've settled on a ground floor one bedroom maisonette that isn't all that far from here. It was a relief to have made the decision.
The day before yesterday one of the ladies from our estate agents office phoned me up. She was supposed to phone me weeks ago to help me find somewhere, because of the situation being urgent. She hadn't done so, obviously. I told her that I had found somewhere, that I had paid the deposit, was awaiting the application form, and had no moving date. An hour later she phoned me up to ask what my moving date was. I said I didn't have one. She tried to push me for one, and then told me I had to bring it forward. I told her it was completely out of my control, that I don't know how these things work, but when I know what's happening I'd update the agent. I couldn't believe how pushy she was being after she had never even tried to help me to start with. She stressed me out. All my spoons were gone before my day had even started.
So yesterday when Ian phoned to tell me we were going to lose the sale, I thought the bottom had fallen out of the world. The buyers apparently had told the estate agent that they had been round here the previous night, and I'd told them that I'm not planning to move out. This was a complete blatant lie. I sat here that evening, on my PC, without the TV on. If anyone had even knocked at the door I would have heard them.
I suddenly realised that all of the things I'd thought were misunderstandings, were these pair lying. Her father, who lives in France, is buying it for them, so I had figured that communications between them and him, and then to the estate agents, were getting confused. Apparently not.
A few days after they viewed the property a guy knocked on our door saying he had noticed the For Sale sign and would like to have a quick gander on behalf of his old Dad. He had a look round saying he'd change this, and do that to it, and left. I spoke to Ian a few days later and he said that I'd spoken to their builder. Apparently this guy was not looking at the house for himself at all, but was a builder from them seeing whether the changes they want to make are likely to be possible. I don't understand why he didn't just tell me that!
They told the estate agent that we had planning for a roof conversion. We don't. We put a solid floor down in the loft, but we never got any further than that, and I never suggested that we did. Oh, I can't remember what else they've said. It doesn't really matter. I don't understand why they would tell lies that are very obviously going to be found out as wrong. I don't understand what their motivation is in saying they're going to pull out of the sale, and then in the next breath say they have to be in the house by the end of the month because their lease runs out. I feel really bad for my neighbours having these people move in here.
So, yesterday, our estate agent went to my lettings agent and picked up the forms for me to fill them in. Today one of his colleagues collected them from me, and has delivered them back to my letting agent. I will probably be moving next weekend. I am scared.
So when I received a letter this morning from the Job Centre informing that I have a Work Programme appointment next week I just figured there's nothing else the world can throw at me at the moment. I'm sure I'll be proved wrong in about five minutes though.
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