Friday Fill-In #40

And...here we go!

1. I was in a good mood till these hormones came and screwed it all up.
2. My Mum bought me a book of Bible promises because she knew I was feeling down and I left my book in my bag with my carry-mug of tea, which leaked all over it. :o(
3. Why does it always rain on bank holiday weekends???
4. Head Sister, whose dad passed away recently, was in my thoughts today.
5. One of my father's favourite sayings was "We had one and t'wheel came off."
6. Wanting to just not 'be' for a while, something I've heard reference to a lot lately --I know that feeling!
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to painting my nails and steaming my face (don't ask), tomorrow my plans include stuff going on at church and then maybe seeing Samson and Sunday, I want to revel in the fact that we have 33% extra free this weekend!

Trying to Stay Focused...

I know I shouldn’t complain, but work is shockingly quiet at the moment. I find not having much to do especially hard to deal with when I have plenty to be getting on with at home. I feel wasted here! Who am I kidding, if I was at home, I probably wouldn’t be getting on with tidying my room, listing the things I need to sell on eBay, doing my laundry or cleaning the bath. I would be watching DVDs or the latest episode of Lost online. I’m glad I just reminded myself of that, I think I still have this week’s one to watch.

I am literally counting down to the weekend – it’s a long one, thanks to the bank holiday. 33% extra free with this weekend, hurrah! I really do need to get some stuff done this weekend, but when it comes down to housework and getting organised versus spending a lazy, peaceful Sunday with Samson, I admit I will usually always plump for the latter.

There seems to be some sort of mental health awareness drive at the moment. On several occasions recently, I’ve seen in different newspapers and magazines, online and heard on the radio, articles and programmes raising awareness of various forms of mental illness like depression and bi-polar disorder, etc. as well as people in the public eye giving their own experiences of having such conditions. It sometimes can come across as gratiuitous or publicity-seeking when certain 'celebtrities' have their stories spread all over the low-end gossip magazines - "My anxiety hell"; "the depression that wrecked my marriage"; "sex, drugs and bi-polar disorder"; etc. etc. It almost seems to be fashionable lately to have experienced some sort of mental disorder. Many of the people who have shared in the media their own battles with depression and other mental health issues are professionally successful, middle-class, well-off, have-it-all career women in the public eye, with seemingly perfect marriages and children, living in Home & Garden-style houses. Instead of have raising awareness, or increasing understanding of these issues, these stories have in some cases unfortunately inspired disdain and contempt, or even disbelief and dismissiveness, as other media personalities scoff at the idea that such people have anything to be depressed about. The problem with clinical depression is that it isn't necessarily logical, it doesn't always have an understandable cause, it doesn't always stem from reasons that others can fathom. In any case, I suppose the positive side of these arguments is that mental health issues are being talked about, instead of being ignored or remaining taboo.

On Boredom, Being a Drone and Feeling Creative

Work is so dry at the moment. We had a brief surge of activity with students who are stuck overseas and can’t get back in time for their exams emailing us, but it has quietened down again now. The document requests I deal with are coming through in small numbers and Flame Grilled has gone on leave for about 10 days after managing to just miss the tail end of the volcano ash saga and get his flight to Spain as planned. The afternoons are dragging something rotten and just about the only thing getting me through the day at the moment is spending lunch times with Samson.

I don’t think I ever mentioned it, but I have been keeping an eye on job vacancies, mainly just because my current job is a little repetitive and if a good opportunity came up, then it would probably be wise to at least apply for it. I don’t often feel challenged or that I even need to use my brain much, let alone use any creativity. I’m also still a little bit scarred and lacking in confidence from the unpleasant interview experiences I’ve had and the fact that two years of restructuring and uncertainty have taken their toll on the general morale of the department. On the flip side, the repetitive nature of the work means that while I am still ironing out my mental health issues, I can just get on with the job even when feeling low and never have to take work home or deal with an uncomfortable level of stress. I will be OK here for a while, partly because they are aware of my health issues and have been fairly accommodating/sympathetic to them (fairly).

Anyway, I saw a job several weeks back that I thought sounded really good, a role that I could sink my teeth into and might keep me on my toes a little. It was more active than this role, more varied, more flexible and generally sounded like something I would be wise to go career-wise, as well as for my own personal development (before my brain dissolves to mush from lack of use). I saw the advert on the same day it was due to close, so I spent all evening trying to get the application completed to a decent standard and barely got it in on time. A few weeks went by and I had forgotten all about it. Out of the blue, I got a phone call inviting me to interview. It was an encouraging surprise and brightened an otherwise boring day. I had to fudge the truth a little with work because it was relatively short notice, so told them I had a doctor’s appointment. I didn’t prepare as much as I should/could have, but I arrived at the interview feeling fairly calm and somewhat confident. The interview went well, there was a panel of four people, but they were all extremely nice and relaxed, not intimidating or scary. It seemed like a great place to work and a job I would probably thrive in. After the interview, I felt like I could have been a bit sharper with some of my answers and didn’t really expect to be successful. Partly because the competition in the job market at the moment is so fierce. A got a letter a few days later saying I was unsuccessful. I wasn’t surprised, but I wasn’t too disappointed. I emailed to ask for some feedback on the interview and the comments I received were quite positive. It seemed to mainly come down to the fact that the candidate they appointed had more experience relevant to the post, which isn’t something I have any control over.

Overall, it was a good experience. I needed to have an external interview just to regain my confidence a little and to help me remember that I do actually have valuable skills and experience and shouldn’t let the knocks keep me down. I also realised that I would probably really enjoy working in a creative environment. The job I applied for was in an arts-based college and just the fact that there wasn’t even a dress code as such because they expect people to be creative and expressive had a huge appeal! I’ve always been a creative person, but it’s only recently that I’ve realised that I really do need to use that creativity or I don’t feel completely whole. Being able to do that at work, in however small a way, is something. It’s where one spends the majority of the day and the majority of one’s energy. By the time I get home, I am usually just wanting to chill out completely. If I have any household chores to do too, I am completely drained and don’t have anything left to do the things I really love.

So anyway, the short term plan is to stay where I am and try and stick it out while both my attendance and outlook improve. Medium term, I am going to keep a look out for jobs in creative environments, find more ways to express my creativity and the discipline to make time for the things I enjoy. Now I need to put these theories into practice…

Spring

Have I mentioned how much I love Spring? I know it’s going to happen every year, I know what it looks and feels and smells like, but yet every year I love it still more than last year. It makes everything feel new, it evokes a sense of hope and new starts, beginnings, growth, and fresh, blooming, abundant life. It’s such a novelty seeing such sparkling sunshine and cornflower blue skies after such a long and cold winter. After months of trees devoid of leaves, the sudden sprout of growth in all shades of green seems such a stark contrast. I love blossoms, of all kinds and all shades. I love how the brisk Spring breezes rush through the trees and cover the streets with nature’s own confetti. You can’t help but feel a little more positive, a little more alive, a little bit more hopeful. My favourite time of year.

Likes/Dislikes

Current Likes:

• The beautiful season that is Spring
• Regular sunshine
• Blossom trees
• Birthday plans
• Upcoming holidays (visiting Dad’s fam up north in a few weeks and a week off for the World Cup in June)
• Going out on Saturday night for Lolly’s birthday
• Getting into reading again
• Floaty summery dresses
• Samson meeting my friends
• Seeing The Mrs for the first time in a few months
• Spending lazy weekends with Samson
• Battlestar Galactica (Samson’s fault)

Current Dislikes:

• My stupid hair – looking more and more like a scarecrow, it desperately needs a cut!
• Feeling stifled by routine and expectation
• Being poor (still!!!)
• Finding out that I have a year left on my loan as opposed to the couple of months I had thought it was :o(
• (Therefore) Not being able to afford to move out as soon as I’d hoped
• The repetitiveness of my job
• Not feeling I can just be open and honest with my parents or my friends from church about Samson
• The fact that I bought my laptop for screen size over portability and it is therefore too big and heavy to take to Samson’s at the weekend
• Feeling too drained in the evenings to be creative or productive
• Not being able to do something extravagant for my Mum’s upcoming milestone birthday on Saturday due to lack of funds

What You Want Back

Oh, life. When do you become what I want you to be?

Things are still see-sawing a little at the moment, but perhaps not as erratically as before. After trying to come off my meds gradually and taking them every other day rather than daily for about a month, I’ve decided to go daily again. I haven’t been coping particularly well, and although there are some things that have improved since I started on them last summer, not enough has significantly changed in either my life or my mindset to make things bearable without them. I found that even after the initial withdrawal (where I cried an unnatural amount in a short space of time) had passed, I was still feeling too up and down. At first, I had wanted to stop taking them because I felt that things were a little better. I didn’t want to be relying on the meds in case things suddenly got worse and then what would I do, have to take a stronger dose? I also hadn’t really wanted to take them for longer than a year if possible, although I’ve realised that setting arbitrary deadlines without assessing how I feel is pointless, unwise and potentially harmful. It’s a bit like deciding you want to lose weight and setting a random goal of how much weight you want to lose, so your ‘achievement’ can me measured quantifiably, rather than seeing how you look and feel as you go along.

My mistake was mentioning that I was going to start coming off my medication to both Big Sis and my Mum. Both seemed happy that I had made that decision, which I can understand, but I then found that it added more pressure on to me to stick to the decision, even when I wasn’t sure that it had really been the right one for me at this time. I tried it, I gave it a good go, I stuck through the initial withdrawal period, but I found that things weren’t settling. So I made the decision to start taking them daily again. I have to keep reminding myself that this is the right decision for me, that the opinions of others don’t matter as much as my own experience and that whatever course of action someone suggests to me, I am the one who has to deal with the consequences. The Mrs. has been reassuring me that I have to make the best decision for me and that it isn’t anyone else’s business what I decide to do about my own mental health. I am feeling better for having started taking them daily again, just more stable. I know I am still suffering from depression, although I am feeling slightly happier and more contented at times, but being emotionally more stable is good enough for me at the moment. Work has continued to monitor my attendance and I was referred to Occupational Health for another assessment after missing a couple more days due to migraines. I was off sick one day just before my assessment because I just couldn’t face going in because I was feeling so low. Thankfully things have settled a bit more, but I don’t entirely see the benefit of these assessments to me. Unfortunately, subsequent to my assessment, I have to have another meeting with HR and with my line manager in two weeks’ time. Really not looking forward to that.

I had hoped that 2010 would be the year I finally saw the back of any negative past relationship influences, and it has so far lived up to expectations. I heard nothing from either The Ex or NY Guy after after our last contact in October/November and just before Christmas respectively. The Ex, because I told him I didn’t want to talk to him anymore and NY Guy because he had a new girlfriend. Randomly, at the end of January I had a missed call from NY Guy. I checked my old phone, which Big Sis uses for our home church group, and found he had also called that. When I next logged into Instant Messenger, he had sent an IM with a bland “Hi.” I wondered why he was contacting me, but didn’t bother to respond. Then, in mid-February, Big Sis told me there were a few messages on my old phone. This time from The Ex. A missed call and then a text saying that he knows I’d asked him not to contact me anymore, but that he wanted to wish me a belated (understatement) new year and see how I was. He asked me to please think about contacting him, even if it was just a text. I felt bad temporarily and briefly contemplated responding, but knew the best thing to do was ignore it. Despite the nicety of the text, I know him way too well to fall for it. It’s a manipulative ploy to worm his way back into contact with me and probably my affections too. I ignored it. A couple of weeks ago, I stayed at Samson’s and woke up on Sunday morning due to sunlight streaming in through the blinds. I checked my phone and saw a text from NY Guy, sent the night before: “I’m sorry Em, I truly am. I finally know how you felt.” It was a bold out of the blue and caught me when I was already feeling a bit down. I wasn’t sure what he meant, or what had prompted him to contact me and to say what he had said. What exactly is he sorry for? How does he know how I felt? In what way? I wondered if he was still with the girl he was seeing and whether things had gone wrong in a way that helped him understand the things I had been unhappy with when we were together. I pondered on it and then eventually mentioned it to The Mrs and to Lolly. They were both suitably dismissive, saying in different ways that it was pathetic and I should ignore it. I was rather curious about what he meant and although I didn’t think I should respond, I wasn’t completely against the idea at first. Mini Me told me that he’d had more than enough chances with me and that to respond to him wouldn’t be fair on Samson. That kind of hit me. After a few days, the curiosity gradually wore off enough that any desire to contact him had faded. I’ve since had dreams about both NY Guy and The Ex and am annoyed at how they both still get into my head. I guess when someone has been a significant influence in your life for a good few years, it probably takes a similar length of time for that effect to disappear completely.

The only person who hasn’t contacted or tried to contact me in any way is BFTP. I suppose at least he’s consistent. He did it the first time around and despite all his promises to not do it ever again, he did the same thing, but at least he stuck to it. Maybe I’ll hear from him in another 10 years, explaining things. Maybe I’ll never hear from him the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll find out one day if NY Guy finally really could see things from my point of view and what happened to make him see it. Maybe The Ex will finally get over his own insecurities and issues with control and find someone who can give him as good as they get. Maybe I will be able to trust people fully again, to not let the insecurities and issues and fear of abandonment affect how I treat other people, how I view myself, or how I deal with my relationship with Samson. I don’t want to take any negative of the past with me into the future. Other than the picnic blanket I’ve had since I was little that BFTP accidentally took home with him last summer. I’d like that returned to me, please.

Doorsteps and Thresholds

I am stuck. Stuck in the same old rut I have been for a few years. I thought that getting rid of some of the unhealthy relationships in my life might significantly help things. I suppose it did, but not for very long. I don’t even know what to say any more. I feel like a broken record. It's hard to change your way of thinking when it has been conditioned to a certain pattern over a long enough period of time.

Previous cycle:

Incident --> argument --> him playing the blame game, being defensive, making excuses --> me feeling like my hurt feelings are not valid/warranted --> me eventually not bothering to argue my side any further because he shouts louder/doesn't accept my opinion/is too proud to admit fault/blames me anyway --> me perhaps eventually getting an apology that never seems to be completely unconditional --> me feeling slightly bitter and resentful and then consequently remembering these feelings and the incident that caused them during every similar argument subsequent to this one.

On Saturday night, I went to Samson’s. It was late, but we had plans on Sunday and if I have the choice, I prefer to get the travelling out of the way the night before, rather than in the morning. Just after I had got on the train, he called me to check where I was and see what time I would be getting to his. It had just gone 11pm and I estimated that I’d be at his just after midnight. I got to the station near his just before midnight but there were no buses in sight, so I walked the short walk from the station to his place. Although it was late, the tube had been busy and there were quite a few people walking in the same direction as me. When I was a couple of minutes away, I called Samson to let him know so that he could come downstairs and let me in. There was no answer initially, so I called again a couple of times. There was still no answer by the time I got to the front door. There are five flats in the building and only two of the buzzers are marked. I don’t know which is the buzzer to his flat, because I’ve never had to use it. Whenever I go there I am either with him, or I call him before I get there and he comes down to let me in. In the daytime, I might have just pressed each of the three unmarked buzzers, but I didn’t think his neighbours would appreciate me doing this at that hour.

It had been a long day. I was tired, hungry and getting progressively more angry as I called several times more and still had no response. I sent a text message. “Let me in when you get a moment.” I hoped he would sense the snarky tone. Feeling tired, and upset that I was standing on a frickin’ doorstep in the dark after 12 at night, I sat on the step and waited. I had bought a burger to eat in lieu of dinner on the way, but my appetite disappeared as the minutes ticked by and my annoyance increased. Several people walked past down the road and I kept feeling anxious, aside from the fact that it was late and I was on my own, that one of his neighbours might arrive home after an evening out and add to my shame. After a while, I seriously contemplated going home. I was fed up, angry and getting horrible flashbacks of all the times in both my significant relationships where I have been kept waiting like that, or have called and called, only to have no response. The feeling that someone who is supposed to care about you to a significant degree is ignoring you, or doesn’t care enough to be there on time to meet you at a late hour when you being kept waiting would make you vulnerable, or doesn’t answer when you call even though they should have been expecting it, is one that really upsets me. I think it’s bad form anyway, but when you’ve had it done to you several times over and have been stupid enough to let it keep happening to you, the emotions it inspires are all too palpable and close to the surface. I was waiting 20 minutes when I sent another text. “I am waiting until half past and then I am seriously going home.” I was feeling stupid and let down, aside from cold, hungry, tired and angry. I felt silly for having travelled all that way at stupid o’clock, when he couldn’t even have his phone by him to make sure he answered the door when I arrived. I felt like a mug, like I was already being taken for granted yet again, so soon into the relationship.

A few minutes later, he called. “Where are you?” he said cheerily, seemingly oblivious to my messages, the fact that it was over 20 minutes past my estimated time of arrival, or the fact that I had called him several times before now. “I am on your doorstep. Where I have been for the past 20 minutes.” He started making apologies and I just said, “Let me in,” and hung up. He rushed down and opened the door, but I couldn’t even get up. I felt pissed off and worn down. He picked up my bag for me and started apologising, looking rather sheepish. I couldn’t even really look at him, I was so upset. We went upstairs and I went straight into the kitchen and threw my burger in the bin. He asked if I wanted tea or a drink of something. I declined and went straight to the bathroom, closing the door slightly more forcefully than I usually would have done. I looked in the mirror while I tried to calm myself down and then I sat on the floor and cried. I sat there for a while, waiting for the surge of emotions coursing through me to subside, but they didn’t. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t really want to talk to him and if I left the bathroom I would have to. I could hear him pottering around in the flat and wondered if he even realised how annoyed I was.

Minutes passed, but I couldn't tell how many. I was probably only in there for five, but if felt like ages. After a bit, he knocked on the door.
"Are you OK?" he asked.
"What do you think?" I answered, realising that there was no way I could say 'fine' and convincingly pretend it was true.
"I'd imagine you are pretty pissed off with me," he said, calmly. Eventually he asked if he could come in.
"If you must," I said, still annoyed, but not wanting to stay that way. I felt really hurt and still couldn't look at him. He crouched down next to me on the floor and apologised again. We talked, although my responses were directly mainly at the floor, as I sat elbow on knee, holding my forehead in one hand, and wiping my tears with a tissue held in the other.
"I've travelled all the way up here, you don't even have to meet me at the station, the least you could do is answer your phone when I get here. Do you even have an explanation?"

It was just one of those silly oversights where he had left his phone in the bedroom while he watched TV in the living room and hadn't heard it. One of those little mistakes that can happen to anyone, but one that he wasn't to know would send me over the edge. We talked a little bit more. I was still angry and upset, but slowly calming down. He apologised again, took full responsibility and made me feel much better. It sounds stupid, but it was a first for me to be in that kind of situation and not have the other person respond angrily and be defensive, or worse, somehow turn things around and blame me, till I was believing that the situation was my fault. Or perhaps not believing it, but somehow having the blame placed on me by default because arguing any further was futile.

"Do you want to go and chill in my room for a bit? I can stay in the living room till you feel a bit better?"
"No."
"Do you want me to leave you alone?"
"No."
"Can I give you a hug?"
"Yes."
He hugged me and helped me up off the floor. We hugged again and I gradually felt calmer. He stroked my hair and told me how much I mean to him and that he doesn't want to do things that upset me. I told him I had very nearly gone home. "I would have come after you," he said. "I don't want to lose you."

This cycle:

Incident --> discussion --> me being allowed to explain my point of view and why the incident upset me --> him understanding my point of view accepting that me feeling that way was warranted --> him apologising for how his actions caused me to feel that way --> him making me feel listened-to and valued --> me having the chance to calm down --> him giving me the opportunity for space if I needed it --> me accepting his apology --> reconciliation.

And just like that, the rut was sort of broken.

Cry Me A River

I wrote this on 16th March:

I think the recent (no doubt short-lived) burst of sunshine, coupled with my reduction in medication, is making me a teeny bit mental. I keep feeling randomly hyper and excitable and enthusiastic. Fast forward a day or two (sometimes an hour or two) and….hello! Verge of tears! Oh, to be a man without erratic monthly hormones, or just a normal person with erratic emotions in general. I have been feeling vaguely more positive, but who knows why that is, I think someone somewhere must be praying for me.

This past winter (I shouldn’t speak quite so soon, it’s still pretty nippy out there) has been rather long and consistently cold and grey. The sunshine of late and the feel that spring is definitely getting ready to live up to its name have helped me remember that things aren’t always bleak forever. Winter becomes spring, night becomes day, the leaves and flowers that die are soon replaced with new growth. Aside from the symbolism, the change in weather itself has definitely made a difference, however small, to my outlook. I need a holiday, a proper break, to go somewhere hot and sunny, without any responsibility or obligation (I’ve loved going to Croatia and Latvia partially for singing engagements, but it doesn’t always feel completely like a holiday, especially when you are relying on someone else’s transport or working by their schedule). I’d like a holiday without my family, some time that is completely care free and chilled out. I would really like that.

It is Samson’s birthday on Saturday. I think I am more excited than he is. I have lots exciting presents to give him. At least, I think they’re exciting, haha. They are all things I know he wants or would at least like, so I hope he’ll be happy. I’ve probably gone a tiny bit overboard with my present-buying, but I like getting things for people that I care about, especially things that I know they will appreciate (or at least hope they will). I want to tell him what I’ve bought!!! I’m usually good at keeping secrets, but I feel like just giving them to him a few days early so I don’t crack!

I never did finish what I started writing, nor did I write about what happened just three days later when Samson's birthday had almost rolled around...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After deciding that I would gradually bring myself off my meds by taking them on alternate days (rather than daily), things were going OK. I was feeling generally quite good, excited about Samson’s upcoming birthday and enjoying the sunshine and (marginally) warmer weather. Friday came, the day before Samson’s birthday. I was feeling in a really good mood, until about mid-morning. That evening after work, there were several things happening. It was a colleague’s last day before going on maternity leave. We were invited to go to the café at the museum over the road from 4.30 onwards for a little leaving do. From 5.30 onwards, Samson was having birthday drinks at the bar downstairs. One of my friends shares her birthday with him and she was having dinner that evening in North London at about 7.30 (with drinks from about 6.00). I was already feeling awkward that I would be a bit rushed to even make it to the leaving do and the birthday drinks and would almost certainly have to decline the birthday dinner.

In addition to all that, the next day was our home-church day, where our small group meets at my Mum’s house. I have somehow been placed in charge of supervising the children (Big C, Little C, The Destroyer and any others who show up) and arranging activities for them, which I hadn’t been able to plan yet, or had even thought about yet. I had also been asked to lead out in a discussion in the afternoon, which again, I hadn’t prepared for. On top of this, I felt pressure to get to the 'rents early. I wouldn’t want to go there if I’d had a few drinks, but I wouldn’t want to go home either and face inevitable disapproval from Big Sis.

Suddenly, everything seemed insurmountable. I felt stressed, anxious, pressurised and upset. I felt that no matter what I did that evening, I would be letting someone down, or making someone disappointed with me. Suddenly, irrationally, I felt awful and unable to cope. I emailed my friend and told her that unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to make it to her dinner. She was fine about it, but in my over-sensitive frame of mind, I read a vague sense of annoyance/disappointment/resignation into her email reply. For the rest of the day, I was fighting back tears. Not in the way I have done so many times, where I can nip out to the toilets if necessary and get myself together, regain my composure and go back to my desk. But in a way I hadn’t experienced before, where I was finding it incredibly difficult to hold back. I don’t think it was even that the emotions I was feeling were overwhelmingly strong. My eyes literally seemed unable to hold the tears in and the abundance of them didn’t seem completely linked to what I was feeling. Usually when like this, my eyes might well up, but I wouldn’t really cry, perhaps having to wipe away a solitary tear that squeezed its way out. But this time, my eyes were streaming and I had to keep making a quick escape to the loos to wipe my eyes and try to get a hold on things. Annoying, this also meant that my eyes were a little red and puffy and if anyone looked too closely, it would have been obvious that I had been crying. I was thankful that my colleague who sits directly opposite me was away, as she would definitely have noticed and I think anyone asking if I was OK might have sent me over the edge in full-blown sobs.

Samson invited me over the road to lunch as a group of them were going. I decided not to join them because I was going to have to work through my lunch if I was going to be able to leave early for the leaving do after work. In truth, I also didn’t really feel much like seeing or talking to anyone. I was starting to wonder if I would even be able to face going out that evening. As the afternoon wore on, I was feeling worse and worse. I just wanted to run away, to be alone, to wander around for a while and not have to go home or to the 'rents or anywhere that would require me to have to explain myself. Just after 4.30, the tears were getting worse and worse.

I went out to the toilets, tried to pull myself together and instead found myself returning to my desk with red, watery eyes that had failed to stop leaking. A little before 5.00, most of my colleagues started to leave for our colleague’s maternity leave send-off. The other team leader (Woody) went to have a quick chat to my line manager and noticed my appearance. “Are you OK?” she asked, seeming concerned. “I’m fine, thanks,” I said, not even pretending that I wasn’t crying, just not really sure I could answer any differently. She didn’t look like she wanted to accept that answer, but didn’t ask again. My pregnant colleague went to leave and I explained that I wasn’t sure I could make it, but wished her all the best and gave her a hug. She noticed my red eyes too. I was finding it harder and harder to keep it together. I started to email Samson, telling him I was really sorry but I didn’t think I could come to his birthday drinks after all. The tears were falling quite steadily now and my line manager asked again if I was OK. “I’m all right,” I answered. “You can go home you know,” he said kindly. “I just need to finish up a couple of things,” I told him, to which he replied, “I’m sure they can wait until Monday?” I finished my email to Samson, telling him that I was going to go home as I couldn’t stop crying and both Flame-Grilled and Woody had seen me and asked what was wrong and that I couldn’t face going out this evening, so would just text him later or something.

As soon as I had sent the email, I couldn’t get out of there quick enough. My eyes streamed with tears virtually the entire way to the ‘rents, a journey of approximately 90 minutes. It was the oddest experience and one I have not had before. For most of the time, I wasn’t even feeling especially upset, I just couldn’t stop crying. I read the paper on the way home, tears rolling down my cheeks, wondering what on earth the other people on the train would be thinking. By the time I got to the ‘rents, I had managed to stop crying for a bit, but knew I must look terrible and wouldn’t be able to feign normality with my own mother. When I got home, I gave my Mum a hug and said hello. She looked at my face and immediately asked “What’s wrong?” It was hard to explain that I didn’t actually know. She seemed quite concerned, although I explained that it must be because of me gradually coming off my meds. I ate dinner and had an early night, although I still cried on and off for a lot of the evening. I felt really bad that I had left Samson hanging at the last minute, even though he had been really understanding.

The next day we had home church and I felt numb. I was in charge of looking after the children, so we did a few activities and did some drawing and I managed to keep things together. I sometimes prefer being around the kids as they don’t ask questions the way adults do and you don’t offend them if you don’t make small talk. They also make me laugh, which is a definite advantage when you have been crying a ridiculous amount over the space of 24 short hours. Some friends joined our group who I haven’t seen in ages and I felt unable to talk to them properly. When lunchtime came I found I was avoiding conversation and eventually went to my room, laid on my bed and cried some more. I just felt blank and couldn’t face being around anyone. I didn’t have any lunch. Big Sis came up later to ask if I was going to lead the afternoon discussion as had been planned. I said that I couldn’t. I literally couldn’t string a coherent thought together in my head, let alone express it adequately with my mouth. Big Sis later brought me some food, which I really appreciated because I was starving, and I ate and then slept the rest of the afternoon until everybody had left. I couldn’t wait to get home. Samson had been checking on me and wondering if we were going to see each other that evening. To be completely honest, I didn't think I would be a good idea to see each other, since I was feeling so utterly low. I didn't imagine I would be the best company for him on his birthday. But I also felt bad that I hadn't seen him on his birthday and that I wouldn't get to give him the presents I had so been looking forward to giving him on his actual birthday. He didn't pressure me, but he did tell me that he would love to see me, even if it was to just chill and go to sleep, he just wanted to spend some time with me. I relented, knowing that I really did want to spend time with him, but I felt bad for how I was feeling and how uncelebratory a mood I was in.

By the time I got home, he was already in the pub on the corner, wasting time with a quick drink before I got there. I had to tidy my room, so he stopped by the takeaway to get himself from dinner. It was barely even still his birthday, but by the time he came to mine, he was still his cheerful self, still pleased to see me, still being as lovely as always. We chilled out and watched some TV while he ate, then I gave him his presents. He was excited, which made me laugh, but also made me happy I'd made an effort to wrap them all separately and prolong the suspense. He was very happy with his haul - a couple of CDs, Battlestar Galactica Season 4 DVD box set and a new wireless adapter for his X-Box (his old one wasn't working). I joked that I would have to make the most of these last precious moments we were sharing together before our relationship died an X-Box induced death. I felt so much better being around him. He made me laugh, feel relaxed and cared for. The next day, we woke up, had breakfast, watched some TV and then got ready to go to his. Things felt all right again, but it seemed to have been the worst blip since I started on my meds.