This Christmas is a very odd one. It's the first one without Dad. It has crept up on me because I only went back to work after about four months on sick leave two weeks before, so hadn't been out and about noticing all the Christmas lights, decorations and build-up begin.
On Saturday, Mum, Big Sis, Bro-in-Law and I went to a Christmas sing-a-long concert at the Royal Albert Hall. I was feeling decidedly unfestive when we arrived. But it ended up being good fun and made me feel a little bit more Christmassy than I had been. Mum had a voucher for dinner at the Hilton, so we went there afterwards and had a nice dinner in the Hawaiian-themed restaurant. The fruit cocktails were lovely, I would love to go there another time and have some of the rum ones! After the meal, we went home and I threw some stuff into a bag so I could go back with Mum to hers. That's when I found out that Big Sis and Bro-in-Law weren't going to Mum's for Christmas.
My family has never made a huge fuss over Christmas, but we've always at least had a gathering and lunch or dinner together. It's become notably less and less important in recent years, which I think is a shame. I really dislike how commercial Christmas has become and how irrelevant half of the things people worry about are. But I like the fact that we have one day where everything stops, shops are closed and people are encouraged to get together, spend time in each other's company, watch old films and fun TV, have a nice meal as a family/group and buy each other gifts if they so wish to. This year, Mum said that Big Sis and Bro-in-Law weren't obliged to come, partly because Big Sis has been spending time with Mum and they also went away to Lanzarote for a week a couple of weeks ago, and she thought she needed to spend some time with her husband! That's the benefit of being legally bound to another. Us singletons don't get a free pass to spend time alone, or with friends.
Basically, today has been a non-day, highlighted by the fact that everyone else is talking about their gatherings and Christmas dinners and presents and so on. Today I have sat on the sofa since 11am, watching TV. Mum has been sat in the armchair next to me doing the same. I've intermittently been on my laptop, her on her iPad. We haven't spoken all that much. We don't often want to watch the same things, although I don't mind some of the things she puts on. I felt like going upstairs to read or watch things online, but it felt a bit rude. There were no presents, no special meal. There are no Christmas decorations up. Everything just feels empty and dead. Now and then either or both of us would be crying, but not really acknowledging it in the other person.
I have retreated into my shell again, not talking to people because it's easier to hold things in and deal with them on my own than open up and not be understood. Mum frequently makes comments about losing a spouse being much worse and more intense than losing a parent. While I agree that is true to a degree, it feels like she has a monopoly on grief. Every now and then she says the same things about how she feels, her own guilt, her own 'if onlys', etc. I want to listen and reassure her, but it feels like a broken record. I don't have enough emotional energy of my own to tell her it's OK. Going over what we could have done differently doesn't help me in my own grieving process. It's personal to her, as a wife, as a nurse, as my Dad's full-time carer for 18 months. I want to remember the positive things about my Dad, the good memories I have. Mum says she keeps having to remember how he was at the end, almost to reassure her that it was the right time for him to die, that he was unwell, weak and uncomfortable. I had already accepted that my Dad was going to die. His existence as a fraction of the human being he was made me feel uncomfortable and upset. It still hurt so much when he died, but I can't deny the part of me that was relieved that his suffering and also my Mum's non-stop effort with caring had come to an end. Part of my Mum's grief is occasionally going over what more she could have done, which is very specific to her. I can't imagine dealing with the loss of someone who was your companion for 31 years. But I know what it's like to lose my father of 30 years and it's painful. Hypothetically, my Mum could find another companion. But I can't find a new father. I may find a new father figure, I may have a father-in-law some day, but the father who raised me, whose DNA makes up my own, whose character and influence moulded me into who I am today, that can't be replaced.
I feel like now my Dad has gone, I've lost an ally. The family dynamic has changed. My Mum and Big Sis have got more and more alike in recent years. It's only now that Dad has passed away that I feel like a third wheel at times. I liked similar things to my Dad. I think I'm probably a bit more cynical, more realistic/negative, less religious, less strong in faith - all things my Dad was in some ways. I frequently feel like I'm the odd one out in my family now. It's something I never expected, probably because I never noticed it before, because Dad was always there to balance things out.
Today, I've felt more and more sad as the day has gone on. It's the first time since immediately after my Dad died that I've really felt like crying and have done so. I've felt pangs of jealousy at people who are having traditional Christmas family get-togethers. I've felt resentful of people who are moaning about things they could probably be a little more grateful for. I've felt isolated, lonely and misunderstood. I've felt loss twice over - the loss of my Dad, and the loss of Samson, who I could always go to when I felt sad, even if I didn't know the reason. I've felt lost and even more sad because finding that kind of understanding in a person is relatively uncommon. Building up that sort of trust, where I'd feel comfortable enough to talk to someone when I feel low, takes time. I fear I won't find it again. Or more likely, that I won't trust enough again to open up sufficiently to develop that kind of relationship. It just feels like no-one understands. I have hardly any appetite at the moment. I'm having one meal and a snack a day. I have no money again and only got paid five days ago. There just never seems to be an end to this perpetual cycle of sadness at the moment.
It feels like as I get older, birthdays and Christmas just highlight all my sadness even more. I think this is part of why I want to settle down, find someone who is my partner for life, who is with me against the world, and start my own family. So I can start my own traditions, have my own celebrations, do things in a way that will make me happy. I'm fed up of being the reliable, go-to person for my family to rely on to go along with what they want, because I'm too emotionally retarded to be able to say no. I'm fed up of being someone who people come to for advice, when they are feeling down or in need of reassurance, when they need someone to be there, but not being able to support me in my own times of sadness. This is what happens when you get used to holding your own feelings back and putting on your 'strong' face for the world. Even those closest to you can't tell the difference between the mask and your real face anymore. You can't let the barriers down even when you want to.
Tuesday, 25 December 2012
Sunday, 25 November 2012
What I'm currently feeling, although perhaps not actually putting into practice...
"Give me memories, not things; experiences, not objects."
Sunday, 4 November 2012
Dreams of a Warped Mind
On Friday night, I wrote a song in my dream. I woke up briefly and could remember the words. I remember thinking that I should write them down before I forgot, but then promptly fell back to sleep. I never did remember them.
Last night, I dreamt of The Ex's mother and one of his nephews that was fond of me. The Ex then tried to sexually assault me. I was fighting him off and had a knife, but I couldn't hurt him. I managed to get away to try and report him, but ended up doing so to the elegant female owner of a high-end boutique shoe shop, who bore more than a passing resemblance to the current president of the International Monetrary Fund.
My dreams are weird.
Last night, I dreamt of The Ex's mother and one of his nephews that was fond of me. The Ex then tried to sexually assault me. I was fighting him off and had a knife, but I couldn't hurt him. I managed to get away to try and report him, but ended up doing so to the elegant female owner of a high-end boutique shoe shop, who bore more than a passing resemblance to the current president of the International Monetrary Fund.
My dreams are weird.
Habits and Being Tied Down
I'm sitting in bed, in the bedroom I have at my parents' house. Dad is in his bed in my parents' bedroom next door. I can hear him through the wall making the occasional groan in his sleep. Sometimes the groans are more frequent, almost on every breath he takes. When they get like that, I find it a little bit distressing. It makes me sad.
I'm sitting here, engaging in my own form of self-harm: picking at parts of my skin until quite often it bleeds - spots, blemishes, imperfections, old wounds that have partially healed. I look at the damage I have done and wonder what drives me to do it and how I am stuck in the compulsive, vicious cycle of picking to relieve anxiety, then feeling worse about myself when I make blemishes ten times worse or create new ones. I think about all the things that have gone wrong. I think about texting someone, but don't know who. I laugh at the thought of someone wanting to get to know me, the guy I met at the bus stop when I was uncharacteristically wearing bright pink lipstick and a new leopard-print coat. I think of him looking me up on Facebook and seeing the profile picture of me with skeleton make-up for Halloween. I laugh at the idea that I might have a fun image, the image of someone who is carefree and confident. I cringe at the idea of him discovering the real me, all sorrowful and intense, dark and cynically comic.
While writing this, I got side-tracked looking up compulsive skin picking (CSP) online. I've known for several years that it's a problem and moreover one that is an actual condition/disorder, has a name (dermatillomania) and potential treatment. I've just never got around to speaking to my doctor about it. I suppose partly because it doesn't significantly affect other areas of my life to a degree that has forced me to take action. It's also partly out of shame.
While being side-tracked looking up CSP, I then had to help my Mum as she cleaned and changed my Dad, then got him positioned for the night. He was rolled onto his side so she could change and clean him and I was holding his back so that he couldn't roll back. He tried to, several times. Once we were finished, we sat him up, bolstered by pillows, so that Mum could feed him one of his supplementary drinks - a bottle of approximately 250ml, taken in 20ml servings. You can imagine the patience that requires. He also takes at least 2 swallows for every cap-ful. Because Dad has been bed-ridden for at least a month now, he has developed 2 pressure sores on his behind. The base of his spine protrudes in a way that looks painful, because he has no muscle or fat left to offer any padding. I inherited my rather substantial backside from my Dad and it makes me sad seeing how little flesh he has left. Mum was openly concerned about the pressure sores, because they won't readily heal while he is still on his back all the time. She had put a dressing on them and once he had finished his drink, we had to turn him onto his other side, then bolster him with more pillows, some behind his back, to try and stop him from rolling onto his back. When finished, I kissed Mum goodnight and came to bed to finish writing. She went to bed and I could hear her just minutes later chastising my Dad for trying to roll back.
I just want to cry. I don't know how my Mum has the strength to continue. It's so hard seeing my Dad in this state, but almost harder when my Mum speaks to him firmly or harshly. I know it's tough love, but I find it quite difficult. I also know how stressful it must be for her. It's a double-edged sword, her being a nurse. It means she is able to care for him in a way that a non-medical person wouldn't be able to. It also means she has been able to manage without outside help for as long as she has. But it also means that she worries more, because she knows from experience what the consequences of certain situations can be and also means that she has higher standards and therefore greater expectations of any other nursing staff that may come in to help Dad. The situation is just awful. I find it emotionally draining, but I would feel awful if my Mum was dealing with this all alone.
When I reading about CSP earlier, I discovered that there are various causes regarding what causes it, with some suggesting neurological factors. One theory is a psychological one, which suggests that "picking behavior is a result of repressed rage felt toward authoritarian parents. A similar theory holds that overbearing parents can cause the behavior to develop in their children." [Source: Wikipedia.] Yikes. I can certainly relate to that to some degree and I know I have a sensitivity, especially when feeling low, to the way my Mum speaks sometimes when she is being harsh. I probably need years of therapy.
I don't know what this post is about anymore. I just felt the need to write and then found my mind jumping from one subject to another, in an attempt to make sense of what I'm feeling. Another friend announced his engagement today. I texted The Mrs saying that I felt like life was leaving me behind. Her reply was that it isn't and that these people are just getting tied down. I would happily be tied down by a loving boyfriend right now. The reality of being tied down to depression, monotony, helplessness, duty, stress, grief, guilt and insecurity is not really working right now.
I'm sitting here, engaging in my own form of self-harm: picking at parts of my skin until quite often it bleeds - spots, blemishes, imperfections, old wounds that have partially healed. I look at the damage I have done and wonder what drives me to do it and how I am stuck in the compulsive, vicious cycle of picking to relieve anxiety, then feeling worse about myself when I make blemishes ten times worse or create new ones. I think about all the things that have gone wrong. I think about texting someone, but don't know who. I laugh at the thought of someone wanting to get to know me, the guy I met at the bus stop when I was uncharacteristically wearing bright pink lipstick and a new leopard-print coat. I think of him looking me up on Facebook and seeing the profile picture of me with skeleton make-up for Halloween. I laugh at the idea that I might have a fun image, the image of someone who is carefree and confident. I cringe at the idea of him discovering the real me, all sorrowful and intense, dark and cynically comic.
While writing this, I got side-tracked looking up compulsive skin picking (CSP) online. I've known for several years that it's a problem and moreover one that is an actual condition/disorder, has a name (dermatillomania) and potential treatment. I've just never got around to speaking to my doctor about it. I suppose partly because it doesn't significantly affect other areas of my life to a degree that has forced me to take action. It's also partly out of shame.
While being side-tracked looking up CSP, I then had to help my Mum as she cleaned and changed my Dad, then got him positioned for the night. He was rolled onto his side so she could change and clean him and I was holding his back so that he couldn't roll back. He tried to, several times. Once we were finished, we sat him up, bolstered by pillows, so that Mum could feed him one of his supplementary drinks - a bottle of approximately 250ml, taken in 20ml servings. You can imagine the patience that requires. He also takes at least 2 swallows for every cap-ful. Because Dad has been bed-ridden for at least a month now, he has developed 2 pressure sores on his behind. The base of his spine protrudes in a way that looks painful, because he has no muscle or fat left to offer any padding. I inherited my rather substantial backside from my Dad and it makes me sad seeing how little flesh he has left. Mum was openly concerned about the pressure sores, because they won't readily heal while he is still on his back all the time. She had put a dressing on them and once he had finished his drink, we had to turn him onto his other side, then bolster him with more pillows, some behind his back, to try and stop him from rolling onto his back. When finished, I kissed Mum goodnight and came to bed to finish writing. She went to bed and I could hear her just minutes later chastising my Dad for trying to roll back.
I just want to cry. I don't know how my Mum has the strength to continue. It's so hard seeing my Dad in this state, but almost harder when my Mum speaks to him firmly or harshly. I know it's tough love, but I find it quite difficult. I also know how stressful it must be for her. It's a double-edged sword, her being a nurse. It means she is able to care for him in a way that a non-medical person wouldn't be able to. It also means she has been able to manage without outside help for as long as she has. But it also means that she worries more, because she knows from experience what the consequences of certain situations can be and also means that she has higher standards and therefore greater expectations of any other nursing staff that may come in to help Dad. The situation is just awful. I find it emotionally draining, but I would feel awful if my Mum was dealing with this all alone.
When I reading about CSP earlier, I discovered that there are various causes regarding what causes it, with some suggesting neurological factors. One theory is a psychological one, which suggests that "picking behavior is a result of repressed rage felt toward authoritarian parents. A similar theory holds that overbearing parents can cause the behavior to develop in their children." [Source: Wikipedia.] Yikes. I can certainly relate to that to some degree and I know I have a sensitivity, especially when feeling low, to the way my Mum speaks sometimes when she is being harsh. I probably need years of therapy.
I don't know what this post is about anymore. I just felt the need to write and then found my mind jumping from one subject to another, in an attempt to make sense of what I'm feeling. Another friend announced his engagement today. I texted The Mrs saying that I felt like life was leaving me behind. Her reply was that it isn't and that these people are just getting tied down. I would happily be tied down by a loving boyfriend right now. The reality of being tied down to depression, monotony, helplessness, duty, stress, grief, guilt and insecurity is not really working right now.
Friday, 2 November 2012
Life On Pause
Life feels halted at the moment. Not stagnant from my own inactivity, as it has often done previously. But on hold. I have been signed off from work on medical grounds since mid-August. Over the past few weeks, I have spent most of my time at my parents' house, partly by choice, partly from a sense of duty.
In the last week, my Mum admitted that she could no longer manage caring for my Dad on her own. Not for any emotional reason or lack of ability, but simply because my Dad had got so weak that he can't even support his own body weight. What this means in practical terms is that when my Mum turns him onto his side in order to change his pad (he wears these as he is not physically strong enough to get to the toilet in time) or wash him down below, or lifts him up to add extra pillows below his head and neck so that she can give him water/supplementary drinks/soup, she is supporting all of his weight on her own. It is tiring on her back muscles and could potentially cause her injury. So Big Sis and I have been here most of the time, so that one of us can help her when necessary.
I was informed by the HR department at work that my pay will reduce by half from the 15th of November if I am still on sick leave. I can't afford to live on half my pay, partly because of my financial commitments to my debt management plan, so I had planned to return to work before them to avoid the huge drop in income. But I don't know how ready I will actually be to return to work. My room is in its regular state of disarray and my motivation to make it exactly how I want it has waned with the lack of information regarding our status as tenants there. We wrote to the council to ask for clemency and have heard nothing back, so have no idea whether they still intend to proceed with evicting us. We don't want to contact them, for fear of 'reminding' them of our situation and starting the process up again. At least for now we can remain there, but at the same time without any formal permission to continue living there (i.e. a new tenancy agreement), we are living with an uncertainty that makes it hard to feel completely comfortable and relaxed.
This time last week, we thought that Dad was on his way out. He had deteriorated noticeably even within a couple of days. He was refusing food and even the supplementary drinks that he is usually always willing to have. His saliva was gurgling in his chest when he took breaths. The words "death rattle" came to mind and I wasn't sure whether he would see out the week. This week, he seems more alert, has been drinking a lot and has even managed some soup on a couple of occasions. Early in the week, my Mum arranged a visit from a palliative care nurse. She was going to arrange for district nurses to visit for an assessment. It is likely they will want to install a hospital bed in the house, so that when they come in and care for Dad, they won't have to bend and lift as Mum has been doing. However, we've had no contact from them so far. It's good that Mum will finally be getting (and accepting!) some assistance, but we've no idea how long that will take to set up. So in the meantime, she is relying on us.
Last Friday evening, because Dad seemed in such a bad way, I texted Big Sis to tell her and she came over. She stayed over on Friday night and on Saturday night too, as I had plans to go dancing with MiniMe and her girls. It was easier to go back to mine after the night out, so I returned here on Sunday to find that Bro-in-Law had also gone over for a visit. Bigger Sis came over in the evening and Big Sis and I stayed that night as well. On Monday, I mentioned that I might need to go home on Tuesday. Big Sis announced that she was going home on Tuesday. "Well, I can't go home as well then, as someone needs to stay here with Mum," I stated. She didn't contradict me, but said she'd return on Thursday. On Thursday evening, I had tickets to go to a gig with Lolly. I texted Big Sis on Thursday morning to ask if she was coming over. "I wasn't planning to," she replied. *sigh* I reminded her that she had mentioned she was coming back on Thursday, but in the end, I decided to go back to Mum's after the gig (which would be rather late as it was due to finish at 11pm or so). She ended up coming over this afternoon.
I'm finding it quite a strain dealing with this at the moment. She knows that Mum needs someone here, but puts herself first when she has "stuff to do". She has also been signed off work for some time, but I don't see how her situation is any different from mine and I still manage to do my bit at home. I've been putting Mum first although I could really do with some time at home myself, because she doesn't have anyone else. She's our mother and she's caring for our father. Of course I'm going to help. It means that my own life is often on hold, that I can't make progress with sorting out my things at home, because I need to be here. That I can't make a lot of the social plans I'd like to because I have to be here. That I'm not getting organised and prepared for returning to work because summoning the emotional strength would require me spending quality time on my own and that's just not feasible at the moment. Maybe I'm the sucker because I always do what's expected of me, rather than what suits me best like Big Sis does.
Going out twice this week has provided much-needed respite, but I'm always conscious that my Mum doesn't really have that luxury. I've felt more and more that it's worked out for the best that Samson and I broke up, as I've no idea how I would sustain a relationship in this situation. I feel like I'm constantly one crying session away from an emotional breakdown. I want to reach out to people, but then feel unable to really express myself and they feel helpless as there is nothing they can really do. I've been feeling incredibly lonely at times. I feel like I'm much better when in a relationship and have someone who reduces my emotional burdens just by being there, someone who I can give all my affection to and love like the stupidly big-hearted idiot I am. But the thought of opening up to someone new and revealing the damaged, fragile, crazy, intense and volatile person I have become lately is just too painful. I am stuck between wanting desperately to be loved, to be completely vulnerable and honest, and feeling embarrassed about how I am and needing to push away out of self-preservation.
I've realised that I live off other people's acceptance/love/desire/attention. When I say 'people' I think I pretty much just mean 'men'.I seem to consider relationships (in my head at least) with anyone vaguely nice who shows an interest. I remember doing this at school, even when I knew I didn't fancy the person who liked me. It was almost as though I felt I owed it to them to at least consider it, just because they were nice enough to think me desirable. I've not often stopped to think, "Is this person worthy of my attention/interest/love?" or even considered whether our values or aspirations or mindsets are the same. If they are nice and I am attracted to them, then boyfriend they are. What is wrong with me? I threw myself headlong emotionally into an impractical relationship with NY Guy that never materialised. I ended up with Samson because I knew he liked me, I found him attractive and discovered he was a pretty nice guy. I told him I was suffering from depression and taking medication for it on the first night and he didn't run away screaming, so I guess I just surmised he was a keeper. Even with The Ex I found solace in friendship with him when I became slightly isolated from my female peers. Then a kiss meant the line of friendship had been crossed and 6 years later I was fucked up emotionally beyond what I could have ever expected. Last night on my way home from the gig with Lolly, a guy started talking to me at the bus stop who was nice. It was just a nice, friendly, adult but cute conversation and reminded me that there are nice guys out there who are comfortable enough in their own skin to just have a chat without asking for your number. But today, I started trying to find him on Facebook with just a first name and an area. WHY?! I didn't even fancy him, I just found him to have an attractive personality. I think I'm a relatively good judge of character, but in a general sense. When it comes to deciding whether someone is the right person to allow an intimate place in my life and heart, my good judgement ends. I seem at least able nowadays to weed out the abusive/controlling types, but I think I get so impressed that a man manages to be half decent, that I don't set any further standards.
It's probably just as well that I am single and not in a position to practically maintain a relationship. I know my ridiculous need for affection will drive me to my downfall. I just want to be settled. MiniMe told me I should enjoy some 'me' time and make the most of being single. I would if I could, but nothing in my life is enjoyable enough at the moment. I'm not at work and even when I return, I know it won't bring me much joy because it's a job that has long lost any sense of fulfilment or satisfaction for me. Family life is good in one sense, but strained because of the fact it revolves around Dad and his illness. In some ways I feel at times that I am just waiting for him to die and the thought shames me. Alongside everything else, I am still fighting my depression and that sometimes makes it hard to enjoy anything. I try to make social plans where I can, but am often hindered by the other aspects I've just mentioned. How can I enjoy being single? Nothing else in my life is stable, the one thing I crave is a stable relationship. This week, an old school friend announced a pregnancy. I felt excitement for her, followed by a pronounced pang of what I can only describe as envy. Not because I want a baby right now, but because of the fact that she is at a point in her life that is stable and happy enough that she can have a baby. Weddings I've attended over the past few years have made me feel sad for the same reason. When will my life be at a point where things start falling into place? When will I get my happy beginning?
I can't see a start to any of these aspirations any time soon to the extent that lately I am just wanting an end to my current situation instead. Every year I hope the next will be better. So I'm just going to try to hang on for the next 2 months and pray that 2013 will finally be my year. God help me until then.
In the last week, my Mum admitted that she could no longer manage caring for my Dad on her own. Not for any emotional reason or lack of ability, but simply because my Dad had got so weak that he can't even support his own body weight. What this means in practical terms is that when my Mum turns him onto his side in order to change his pad (he wears these as he is not physically strong enough to get to the toilet in time) or wash him down below, or lifts him up to add extra pillows below his head and neck so that she can give him water/supplementary drinks/soup, she is supporting all of his weight on her own. It is tiring on her back muscles and could potentially cause her injury. So Big Sis and I have been here most of the time, so that one of us can help her when necessary.
I was informed by the HR department at work that my pay will reduce by half from the 15th of November if I am still on sick leave. I can't afford to live on half my pay, partly because of my financial commitments to my debt management plan, so I had planned to return to work before them to avoid the huge drop in income. But I don't know how ready I will actually be to return to work. My room is in its regular state of disarray and my motivation to make it exactly how I want it has waned with the lack of information regarding our status as tenants there. We wrote to the council to ask for clemency and have heard nothing back, so have no idea whether they still intend to proceed with evicting us. We don't want to contact them, for fear of 'reminding' them of our situation and starting the process up again. At least for now we can remain there, but at the same time without any formal permission to continue living there (i.e. a new tenancy agreement), we are living with an uncertainty that makes it hard to feel completely comfortable and relaxed.
This time last week, we thought that Dad was on his way out. He had deteriorated noticeably even within a couple of days. He was refusing food and even the supplementary drinks that he is usually always willing to have. His saliva was gurgling in his chest when he took breaths. The words "death rattle" came to mind and I wasn't sure whether he would see out the week. This week, he seems more alert, has been drinking a lot and has even managed some soup on a couple of occasions. Early in the week, my Mum arranged a visit from a palliative care nurse. She was going to arrange for district nurses to visit for an assessment. It is likely they will want to install a hospital bed in the house, so that when they come in and care for Dad, they won't have to bend and lift as Mum has been doing. However, we've had no contact from them so far. It's good that Mum will finally be getting (and accepting!) some assistance, but we've no idea how long that will take to set up. So in the meantime, she is relying on us.
Last Friday evening, because Dad seemed in such a bad way, I texted Big Sis to tell her and she came over. She stayed over on Friday night and on Saturday night too, as I had plans to go dancing with MiniMe and her girls. It was easier to go back to mine after the night out, so I returned here on Sunday to find that Bro-in-Law had also gone over for a visit. Bigger Sis came over in the evening and Big Sis and I stayed that night as well. On Monday, I mentioned that I might need to go home on Tuesday. Big Sis announced that she was going home on Tuesday. "Well, I can't go home as well then, as someone needs to stay here with Mum," I stated. She didn't contradict me, but said she'd return on Thursday. On Thursday evening, I had tickets to go to a gig with Lolly. I texted Big Sis on Thursday morning to ask if she was coming over. "I wasn't planning to," she replied. *sigh* I reminded her that she had mentioned she was coming back on Thursday, but in the end, I decided to go back to Mum's after the gig (which would be rather late as it was due to finish at 11pm or so). She ended up coming over this afternoon.
I'm finding it quite a strain dealing with this at the moment. She knows that Mum needs someone here, but puts herself first when she has "stuff to do". She has also been signed off work for some time, but I don't see how her situation is any different from mine and I still manage to do my bit at home. I've been putting Mum first although I could really do with some time at home myself, because she doesn't have anyone else. She's our mother and she's caring for our father. Of course I'm going to help. It means that my own life is often on hold, that I can't make progress with sorting out my things at home, because I need to be here. That I can't make a lot of the social plans I'd like to because I have to be here. That I'm not getting organised and prepared for returning to work because summoning the emotional strength would require me spending quality time on my own and that's just not feasible at the moment. Maybe I'm the sucker because I always do what's expected of me, rather than what suits me best like Big Sis does.
Going out twice this week has provided much-needed respite, but I'm always conscious that my Mum doesn't really have that luxury. I've felt more and more that it's worked out for the best that Samson and I broke up, as I've no idea how I would sustain a relationship in this situation. I feel like I'm constantly one crying session away from an emotional breakdown. I want to reach out to people, but then feel unable to really express myself and they feel helpless as there is nothing they can really do. I've been feeling incredibly lonely at times. I feel like I'm much better when in a relationship and have someone who reduces my emotional burdens just by being there, someone who I can give all my affection to and love like the stupidly big-hearted idiot I am. But the thought of opening up to someone new and revealing the damaged, fragile, crazy, intense and volatile person I have become lately is just too painful. I am stuck between wanting desperately to be loved, to be completely vulnerable and honest, and feeling embarrassed about how I am and needing to push away out of self-preservation.
I've realised that I live off other people's acceptance/love/desire/attention. When I say 'people' I think I pretty much just mean 'men'.I seem to consider relationships (in my head at least) with anyone vaguely nice who shows an interest. I remember doing this at school, even when I knew I didn't fancy the person who liked me. It was almost as though I felt I owed it to them to at least consider it, just because they were nice enough to think me desirable. I've not often stopped to think, "Is this person worthy of my attention/interest/love?" or even considered whether our values or aspirations or mindsets are the same. If they are nice and I am attracted to them, then boyfriend they are. What is wrong with me? I threw myself headlong emotionally into an impractical relationship with NY Guy that never materialised. I ended up with Samson because I knew he liked me, I found him attractive and discovered he was a pretty nice guy. I told him I was suffering from depression and taking medication for it on the first night and he didn't run away screaming, so I guess I just surmised he was a keeper. Even with The Ex I found solace in friendship with him when I became slightly isolated from my female peers. Then a kiss meant the line of friendship had been crossed and 6 years later I was fucked up emotionally beyond what I could have ever expected. Last night on my way home from the gig with Lolly, a guy started talking to me at the bus stop who was nice. It was just a nice, friendly, adult but cute conversation and reminded me that there are nice guys out there who are comfortable enough in their own skin to just have a chat without asking for your number. But today, I started trying to find him on Facebook with just a first name and an area. WHY?! I didn't even fancy him, I just found him to have an attractive personality. I think I'm a relatively good judge of character, but in a general sense. When it comes to deciding whether someone is the right person to allow an intimate place in my life and heart, my good judgement ends. I seem at least able nowadays to weed out the abusive/controlling types, but I think I get so impressed that a man manages to be half decent, that I don't set any further standards.
It's probably just as well that I am single and not in a position to practically maintain a relationship. I know my ridiculous need for affection will drive me to my downfall. I just want to be settled. MiniMe told me I should enjoy some 'me' time and make the most of being single. I would if I could, but nothing in my life is enjoyable enough at the moment. I'm not at work and even when I return, I know it won't bring me much joy because it's a job that has long lost any sense of fulfilment or satisfaction for me. Family life is good in one sense, but strained because of the fact it revolves around Dad and his illness. In some ways I feel at times that I am just waiting for him to die and the thought shames me. Alongside everything else, I am still fighting my depression and that sometimes makes it hard to enjoy anything. I try to make social plans where I can, but am often hindered by the other aspects I've just mentioned. How can I enjoy being single? Nothing else in my life is stable, the one thing I crave is a stable relationship. This week, an old school friend announced a pregnancy. I felt excitement for her, followed by a pronounced pang of what I can only describe as envy. Not because I want a baby right now, but because of the fact that she is at a point in her life that is stable and happy enough that she can have a baby. Weddings I've attended over the past few years have made me feel sad for the same reason. When will my life be at a point where things start falling into place? When will I get my happy beginning?
I can't see a start to any of these aspirations any time soon to the extent that lately I am just wanting an end to my current situation instead. Every year I hope the next will be better. So I'm just going to try to hang on for the next 2 months and pray that 2013 will finally be my year. God help me until then.
Friday Fill-In #85 & #86
And...here we go!
1. The tale is told of an old American Jewish couple who went on holiday to Israel. Tragically, while they were there, the wife passed away. The husband had to make arrangements for her body, so spoke to a local undertaker. "For us to transport your wife's body back to your home in the US, it will cost you $10,000. However, alternatively we can bury her here in Jerusalem for a cost of $1,500. The choice is up to you." The old man said, "That's quite a significant difference in price!" He thought for a while, then said to the undertaker, "I think I will have to pay the $10,000 to send her back to the US. You know, a long time ago, a man was buried in Jerusalem. After 3 days he came back to life. I'm not taking any chances."
2. The Lancashire cotton industry is something that always makes me think of my ancestors.
3. To ensure peace, prepare for war. (Is something that came up when I Googled the first part!).
4. Good manners and chivalry is a fine thing.
5. It's never too late to make a change, make things right and heal old wounds.
6. I will share with you the secrets of my heart and the turmoils of my mind by scrawling them on the back of an old receipt.
7. I was not so broken, once.
8. Night time is beautiful when the sky is clear and when the moon is full.
9. When we carry each other's burdens, we fulfil the law of Christ. (Galatians 6:2).
10. Getting snuggled up under blankets and in big jumpers and woolly socks while watching DVDs is the best!
11. Underneath it all people have more in common than they do differences. Never judge by appearances. A rich heart may be under a poor coat.
12. Oh! And thanks for remembering me, even if I was an afterthought. :s
13. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to sleep, tomorrow my plans include very little and Sunday, I want to go home so I can try to achieve something and get prepared for the week!
Friday Fill-Ins come courtesy of Janet. You can join in the fun here!
1. The tale is told of an old American Jewish couple who went on holiday to Israel. Tragically, while they were there, the wife passed away. The husband had to make arrangements for her body, so spoke to a local undertaker. "For us to transport your wife's body back to your home in the US, it will cost you $10,000. However, alternatively we can bury her here in Jerusalem for a cost of $1,500. The choice is up to you." The old man said, "That's quite a significant difference in price!" He thought for a while, then said to the undertaker, "I think I will have to pay the $10,000 to send her back to the US. You know, a long time ago, a man was buried in Jerusalem. After 3 days he came back to life. I'm not taking any chances."
2. The Lancashire cotton industry is something that always makes me think of my ancestors.
3. To ensure peace, prepare for war. (Is something that came up when I Googled the first part!).
4. Good manners and chivalry is a fine thing.
5. It's never too late to make a change, make things right and heal old wounds.
6. I will share with you the secrets of my heart and the turmoils of my mind by scrawling them on the back of an old receipt.
7. I was not so broken, once.
8. Night time is beautiful when the sky is clear and when the moon is full.
9. When we carry each other's burdens, we fulfil the law of Christ. (Galatians 6:2).
10. Getting snuggled up under blankets and in big jumpers and woolly socks while watching DVDs is the best!
11. Underneath it all people have more in common than they do differences. Never judge by appearances. A rich heart may be under a poor coat.
12. Oh! And thanks for remembering me, even if I was an afterthought. :s
13. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to sleep, tomorrow my plans include very little and Sunday, I want to go home so I can try to achieve something and get prepared for the week!
Friday Fill-Ins come courtesy of Janet. You can join in the fun here!
Friday, 12 October 2012
So Relevant Right Now
"The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Alone and/or Lonely
I came home with Big Sis on Tuesday evening, having been at my parents' since Friday afternoon. Big Bro had arrived from South Africa that morning and it had been a busy weekend of helping Mum get the house presentable in time (for a hoarder, this sort of task is never just a spot of vacuuming and dusting, it's a full-on procedure), not to mention a difficult one as Dad was not in a good way.
I felt OK when I arrived home and sat down for a cup of tea with Big Sis. Bro-in-Law arrived home about 5 minutes later and after being left alone in the living room for more than 5 minutes, I realised that they were catching up in the kitchen, not having seen each other for 3 days. It highlighted how much having someone there to hug you and tell you everything will be all right would be highly appreciated right now. I went upstairs to my room and realised I felt incredibly drained. Then I cried. I cried and cried. I texted Samson and he offered to come over the next day, if it wouldn't be weird. I thanked him for the offer, but I felt I would probably feel better by then and I didn't want to rely on him in that way in these situations. It already makes me sad that sometimes I feel like he's the only person I can text. He made me feel a bit better and I managed to calm down and go to sleep later on.
I've realised I'm feeling incredibly lonely at the moment. I feel a little neglected by some friends. I feel grateful that Samson is still a source of some emotional support, but a little resentful that he isn't in the way he used to be. I'm frustrated that a guy who I think liked me before doesn't seem so keen now I'm actually single. I'm disappointed that a guy who actually is keen, is one I don't feel a spark with, despite him being a nice guy and fun to be around. I'm upset that my life seems to be falling to pieces around me and I feel like there isn't much I can really do.
I don't mind being single in some ways. I can be single. I just never seem to stay single for very long. Maybe I get into relationships too quickly. Maybe I'm not as good at being single as I like to think. Maybe whenever I try to stay single, some love interest always appears out of the blue and I end up being seduced by that early getting-to-know-you sparks-and-butterflies phase. But I genuinely think I'm better in a relationship. I'm emotional, I'm affectionate, I'm sexual, I'm loving. I find that without having someone to express that side of myself with, I become incredibly frustrated. I become needy. I become desperate for attention and affection. And that attracts the wrong people. Maybe I'm not always that way when single. It just feels that way at the moment, because I have so much going on, that I really need someone who can kiss it all away, just for a moment. Someone who I can call at 3am because I'm upset. Someone who will come over at the drop of a hat. Someone who will lay with me and cuddle me while I cry, or be silly to make me laugh. I want a partner in crime, a person to go up against the world with, another member of Team Em. I've got a lot to give back, if only the right person could see it.
I felt OK when I arrived home and sat down for a cup of tea with Big Sis. Bro-in-Law arrived home about 5 minutes later and after being left alone in the living room for more than 5 minutes, I realised that they were catching up in the kitchen, not having seen each other for 3 days. It highlighted how much having someone there to hug you and tell you everything will be all right would be highly appreciated right now. I went upstairs to my room and realised I felt incredibly drained. Then I cried. I cried and cried. I texted Samson and he offered to come over the next day, if it wouldn't be weird. I thanked him for the offer, but I felt I would probably feel better by then and I didn't want to rely on him in that way in these situations. It already makes me sad that sometimes I feel like he's the only person I can text. He made me feel a bit better and I managed to calm down and go to sleep later on.
I've realised I'm feeling incredibly lonely at the moment. I feel a little neglected by some friends. I feel grateful that Samson is still a source of some emotional support, but a little resentful that he isn't in the way he used to be. I'm frustrated that a guy who I think liked me before doesn't seem so keen now I'm actually single. I'm disappointed that a guy who actually is keen, is one I don't feel a spark with, despite him being a nice guy and fun to be around. I'm upset that my life seems to be falling to pieces around me and I feel like there isn't much I can really do.
I don't mind being single in some ways. I can be single. I just never seem to stay single for very long. Maybe I get into relationships too quickly. Maybe I'm not as good at being single as I like to think. Maybe whenever I try to stay single, some love interest always appears out of the blue and I end up being seduced by that early getting-to-know-you sparks-and-butterflies phase. But I genuinely think I'm better in a relationship. I'm emotional, I'm affectionate, I'm sexual, I'm loving. I find that without having someone to express that side of myself with, I become incredibly frustrated. I become needy. I become desperate for attention and affection. And that attracts the wrong people. Maybe I'm not always that way when single. It just feels that way at the moment, because I have so much going on, that I really need someone who can kiss it all away, just for a moment. Someone who I can call at 3am because I'm upset. Someone who will come over at the drop of a hat. Someone who will lay with me and cuddle me while I cry, or be silly to make me laugh. I want a partner in crime, a person to go up against the world with, another member of Team Em. I've got a lot to give back, if only the right person could see it.
Monday, 8 October 2012
Witness to a Demise
My Dad is dying. Granted, we're all dying, some are just doing so faster and sooner than others. My Dad is one of those people. He's old enough to have died of old age long before now - he'll be 87 in November. He's had hip replacements and high blood pressure and even a mild heart attack last year. But he has cancer now, that started in his bladder, has spread to his lungs and his liver and possibly his lymphatic system, and is slowly ravaging his already fragile body. He undertook a course of radiotherapy earlier this year, but it still spread. He decided to forego chemotherapy, stating that he would rather "let nature take its course". That's my Dad. Ever philosophical, always realistic. Never one for huge statements of emotion, dramatic gestures or extraordinary acts of inspirational courage. Just your average, kind-hearted, calm-natured Englishman with reserved sensibilities and a northern sense of humour.
For the past year, I have watched my Dad's health steadily decline. In October 2011, he suffered the mild heart attack that put him in hospital and resulted in him being fitted with a pacemaker. He had already been advised of the likely cancerous lesions on his bladder that April, just six months before. They had been unable to operate to remove the lesions because of his high blood pressure, stating that it would need to be lower before they would risk operating. After the pacemaker was fitted, this solved the problem sufficiently enough for them to operate on his bladder during the same spell in hospital. He suffered bouts of intense pain as he passed blood clots in his urine via a catheter and also had his bladder 'washed out' by nursing staff, via the catheter. I witnessed his pain on more than one occasion and found it distressing, knowing that my Dad has never been one to complain unnecessarily with his ailments, or during his several admissions to hospital previously. To see him virtually shouting in agony was very difficult.
During this spell in hospital, he lost quite a lot of weight. Even once he was discharged and returned home, his appetite didn't return sufficiently enough for him to experience significant weight gain. His heart had been damaged and weakened and he got tired more easily, required his walking stick(s) more frequently and wasn't as steady on his feet or as strong as he was before. This was probably harder for him to come to terms with than it was for us. He would still make reference to doing certain things, such as driving, as if it as still a feasible activity for him, when we all knew that it wouldn't be safe, or perhaps even possible. He had a course of radiotherapy in March/April of this year and his appetite was further adversely affected. When Mum went to the Philippines for three weeks in June, he thought it unnecessary to have anyone stay with him, but my sisters and I took it in turns to stay over and keep him company, make sure he was OK and cook him food nonetheless. He later admitted that it was a good idea we had been there.
Over the past few months, his appetite has worsened and he has experienced sharp pains in the right side of his body - his shoulder, elbow, hip, groin and knee - that seem to come and go, alternating between the different areas, but always on the right side. I made a conscious decision a couple of months or so ago that I would go back to trying to spend as much time at my parents' house as I could. When Samson and I broke up in mid-August, there was no-one else competing for my time at weekends, so most weekends I have gone to stay with them. Aside from spending time with my Dad while he is alive and is able to appreciate/acknowledge my presence, my Mum enjoys the company. She is caring for him full-time and her life revolves around him - preparing food for his meals, assisting him with washing, dressing, getting down and up the stairs, going to the toilet, giving him his medication and so on. Everything else has taken a back seat, even non-essential housework.
It's strange how the possibility (or certainty) of losing a loved one can bring the family closer together, or push them apart. It highlights cracks in relationships, or mends them. It reveals those who truly care for you and those who are too preoccupied with their own lives to offer their support. I'm not sure what this situation has done for the relationship between me and my Mum, at least not from her point of view. I don't know if I can necessarily say it has brought us 'closer' together emotionally, as such. All I know is that I have a renewed and more profound appreciation and respect for her as my mother and as a wife, nurse, woman and human being. I've seen love in action. I've seen the stress she experiences, the relentless monotonous routine, the sacrifice of her own interests and activities for my father's sake. She does all of this without resentment, without ever calling us to complain, without self pity. Sure, she gets fed up. She expresses her frustrations to me when I am there, her desires to undertake the activities she loves and enjoys. But she just gets on with it. I am full of admiration for her and gratitude for making my Dad as comfortable as possible in the latter days of his life. I don't feel like I really do enough to help and often feel helpless. But I try my best to perk her up, to allow her to be crazy and silly so she can let off steam. I keep her company and let her do things to her schedule. I try to ask questions and understand what Dad needs, or why she makes certain decisions, or what medication she gives him and when. I observe the things she does to care for him so that I can do them too when necessary. I'm just a presence I guess, so that she isn't always alone and feels she has at least a little support. Whether it's enough, whether it helps her at all, I don't know. But when he opted out of chemo, I decided that when he dies, I did not want to be riddled with the thought that I didn't spend enough time with him. So I'm here. Even though after some weekends I get back to my own home and feel emotionally drained, I'm still here as much and as often as I can be and can cope with.
At times, I've wondered if I'm being dramatic or morbid, thinking, "my Dad is dying," or telling people the fact that he's terminally ill. But my Mum is the same. She tries to be realistic and practical and has looked at funeral homes and thought about what she will do when it happens. She wonders if people would think badly of her, as if she is willing it to happen sooner, but I know she is just being practical, as is her character. She isn't in denial and I guess I have embraced that too. My Dad is dying. Me admitting it doesn't hasten it happening, just as me not talking about it won't make it happen slower. It's the truth, a reality of my life and one that I want to accept and be able to deal with. I have started to count it a blessing that we've had so much time to prepare and get used to the idea. All my life I have been conscious that my Dad could die while I was relatively young. Potentially, he could have died before I reached adulthood. When my Mum had me, he was 56. There is 25 years' age difference between them. Growing up, people often assumed he was my grandfather. When we went out together, me, Mum, Dad, Big Sis and Bigger Sis, we used to laugh at the thought of other people trying to work out our family dynamic (there are only 9 years between Bigger Sis and my Mum). But even though I always knew that my Dad's death at a relatively early point in my life was a possibility, it's only recently that I realised I was not really prepared for it to actually happen. I don't know that you can ever be 'prepared' to lose someone you love. But knowing for sure that my Dad is dying and watching him slowly deteriorate has actually helped me start to come to terms with it. I know that I will still be devastated when it happens and I am slowly accepting that he will not walk me down the aisle when I get married, but I will not be as shocked as I might have been.
In the past two weeks, things have got worse. Because Dad was experiencing severe pain more frequently, he was prescribed painkillers administered in patch form, a small plaster that goes on his skin and slowly releases the medication over the course of a week. The first dosage they prescribed totally doped him up, he kept getting a high temperature and basically slept for most of the week, rarely leaving his bed. The reduced dose he is now taking is better, but he still gets feverish now and then, often at night. An additional side-effect is that he gets confused and seems to hallucinate. This past weekend, he talked in his sleep for most of at least 36 hours straight, making moaning and groaning noises with every breath and muttering to himself. He was talking about things that weren't actually happening, taking his clothes off, arguing with my Mum and resisting her care. It was a little bit distressing at times. But it's just how things are. It's almost like I'm starting to grieve while he's still alive, because we are losing tiny parts of who he is every day.
I love my Dad.
For the past year, I have watched my Dad's health steadily decline. In October 2011, he suffered the mild heart attack that put him in hospital and resulted in him being fitted with a pacemaker. He had already been advised of the likely cancerous lesions on his bladder that April, just six months before. They had been unable to operate to remove the lesions because of his high blood pressure, stating that it would need to be lower before they would risk operating. After the pacemaker was fitted, this solved the problem sufficiently enough for them to operate on his bladder during the same spell in hospital. He suffered bouts of intense pain as he passed blood clots in his urine via a catheter and also had his bladder 'washed out' by nursing staff, via the catheter. I witnessed his pain on more than one occasion and found it distressing, knowing that my Dad has never been one to complain unnecessarily with his ailments, or during his several admissions to hospital previously. To see him virtually shouting in agony was very difficult.
During this spell in hospital, he lost quite a lot of weight. Even once he was discharged and returned home, his appetite didn't return sufficiently enough for him to experience significant weight gain. His heart had been damaged and weakened and he got tired more easily, required his walking stick(s) more frequently and wasn't as steady on his feet or as strong as he was before. This was probably harder for him to come to terms with than it was for us. He would still make reference to doing certain things, such as driving, as if it as still a feasible activity for him, when we all knew that it wouldn't be safe, or perhaps even possible. He had a course of radiotherapy in March/April of this year and his appetite was further adversely affected. When Mum went to the Philippines for three weeks in June, he thought it unnecessary to have anyone stay with him, but my sisters and I took it in turns to stay over and keep him company, make sure he was OK and cook him food nonetheless. He later admitted that it was a good idea we had been there.
Over the past few months, his appetite has worsened and he has experienced sharp pains in the right side of his body - his shoulder, elbow, hip, groin and knee - that seem to come and go, alternating between the different areas, but always on the right side. I made a conscious decision a couple of months or so ago that I would go back to trying to spend as much time at my parents' house as I could. When Samson and I broke up in mid-August, there was no-one else competing for my time at weekends, so most weekends I have gone to stay with them. Aside from spending time with my Dad while he is alive and is able to appreciate/acknowledge my presence, my Mum enjoys the company. She is caring for him full-time and her life revolves around him - preparing food for his meals, assisting him with washing, dressing, getting down and up the stairs, going to the toilet, giving him his medication and so on. Everything else has taken a back seat, even non-essential housework.
It's strange how the possibility (or certainty) of losing a loved one can bring the family closer together, or push them apart. It highlights cracks in relationships, or mends them. It reveals those who truly care for you and those who are too preoccupied with their own lives to offer their support. I'm not sure what this situation has done for the relationship between me and my Mum, at least not from her point of view. I don't know if I can necessarily say it has brought us 'closer' together emotionally, as such. All I know is that I have a renewed and more profound appreciation and respect for her as my mother and as a wife, nurse, woman and human being. I've seen love in action. I've seen the stress she experiences, the relentless monotonous routine, the sacrifice of her own interests and activities for my father's sake. She does all of this without resentment, without ever calling us to complain, without self pity. Sure, she gets fed up. She expresses her frustrations to me when I am there, her desires to undertake the activities she loves and enjoys. But she just gets on with it. I am full of admiration for her and gratitude for making my Dad as comfortable as possible in the latter days of his life. I don't feel like I really do enough to help and often feel helpless. But I try my best to perk her up, to allow her to be crazy and silly so she can let off steam. I keep her company and let her do things to her schedule. I try to ask questions and understand what Dad needs, or why she makes certain decisions, or what medication she gives him and when. I observe the things she does to care for him so that I can do them too when necessary. I'm just a presence I guess, so that she isn't always alone and feels she has at least a little support. Whether it's enough, whether it helps her at all, I don't know. But when he opted out of chemo, I decided that when he dies, I did not want to be riddled with the thought that I didn't spend enough time with him. So I'm here. Even though after some weekends I get back to my own home and feel emotionally drained, I'm still here as much and as often as I can be and can cope with.
At times, I've wondered if I'm being dramatic or morbid, thinking, "my Dad is dying," or telling people the fact that he's terminally ill. But my Mum is the same. She tries to be realistic and practical and has looked at funeral homes and thought about what she will do when it happens. She wonders if people would think badly of her, as if she is willing it to happen sooner, but I know she is just being practical, as is her character. She isn't in denial and I guess I have embraced that too. My Dad is dying. Me admitting it doesn't hasten it happening, just as me not talking about it won't make it happen slower. It's the truth, a reality of my life and one that I want to accept and be able to deal with. I have started to count it a blessing that we've had so much time to prepare and get used to the idea. All my life I have been conscious that my Dad could die while I was relatively young. Potentially, he could have died before I reached adulthood. When my Mum had me, he was 56. There is 25 years' age difference between them. Growing up, people often assumed he was my grandfather. When we went out together, me, Mum, Dad, Big Sis and Bigger Sis, we used to laugh at the thought of other people trying to work out our family dynamic (there are only 9 years between Bigger Sis and my Mum). But even though I always knew that my Dad's death at a relatively early point in my life was a possibility, it's only recently that I realised I was not really prepared for it to actually happen. I don't know that you can ever be 'prepared' to lose someone you love. But knowing for sure that my Dad is dying and watching him slowly deteriorate has actually helped me start to come to terms with it. I know that I will still be devastated when it happens and I am slowly accepting that he will not walk me down the aisle when I get married, but I will not be as shocked as I might have been.
In the past two weeks, things have got worse. Because Dad was experiencing severe pain more frequently, he was prescribed painkillers administered in patch form, a small plaster that goes on his skin and slowly releases the medication over the course of a week. The first dosage they prescribed totally doped him up, he kept getting a high temperature and basically slept for most of the week, rarely leaving his bed. The reduced dose he is now taking is better, but he still gets feverish now and then, often at night. An additional side-effect is that he gets confused and seems to hallucinate. This past weekend, he talked in his sleep for most of at least 36 hours straight, making moaning and groaning noises with every breath and muttering to himself. He was talking about things that weren't actually happening, taking his clothes off, arguing with my Mum and resisting her care. It was a little bit distressing at times. But it's just how things are. It's almost like I'm starting to grieve while he's still alive, because we are losing tiny parts of who he is every day.
I love my Dad.
Wednesday, 19 September 2012
Island Life
I think of you out there, in the open
Unsheltered from the elements or from God's own eyes,
Searching for your life's nucleus,
While particles swirl about you, with no discernible pattern.
Selfishly I hope
That the clean air breathed into your lungs
Awakens your mind,
To sharpen your thoughts towards me.
And the sunlight that touches and warms your face,
Warms your heart
Enough for it to open.
Let the mountains cry out to you of love
As their peaks rise skyward together.
No-one should be alone.
"Go to her," the wind will whisper
As its breeze ruffles your curls and tickles your ears,
"Retrieve her and never let her go."
What do you know of love?
What can you know of sadness?
My heart has been fractured many times over,
Its scars have strengthened me.
Your perfect heart, with skin-deep bump and bruise,
Is fragile from protection.
We will never be ready.
The soil does not say to the clouds,
"Wait, wait until I am perfectly prepared to receive you,
Before you dispense your rain."
The ground will accept the sky's gifts, whatever they may be,
Whenever they are given.
Will you deny your spirit
What would nourish its life?
The ground that you make your bed
Cannot replicate my embrace,
Or transmit my warmth to your bones.
Let the drops that fall from above,
Moistening your skin,
Remind you of our tears.
As you behold the vastness of the sky
And the enormity of what lies ahead,
Think of me.
The clouds saunter by, with graceful intent
Blown about by winds, with no anchor
To secure them.
You were the roots that kept me grounded,
While you drifted as a tumbleweed,
Free of ties to hold you down
But devoid of security and shelter.
It is your choice.
No man is an island;
Let love be the bridge that joins your island with mine.
Unsheltered from the elements or from God's own eyes,
Searching for your life's nucleus,
While particles swirl about you, with no discernible pattern.
Selfishly I hope
That the clean air breathed into your lungs
Awakens your mind,
To sharpen your thoughts towards me.
And the sunlight that touches and warms your face,
Warms your heart
Enough for it to open.
Let the mountains cry out to you of love
As their peaks rise skyward together.
No-one should be alone.
"Go to her," the wind will whisper
As its breeze ruffles your curls and tickles your ears,
"Retrieve her and never let her go."
What do you know of love?
What can you know of sadness?
My heart has been fractured many times over,
Its scars have strengthened me.
Your perfect heart, with skin-deep bump and bruise,
Is fragile from protection.
We will never be ready.
The soil does not say to the clouds,
"Wait, wait until I am perfectly prepared to receive you,
Before you dispense your rain."
The ground will accept the sky's gifts, whatever they may be,
Whenever they are given.
Will you deny your spirit
What would nourish its life?
The ground that you make your bed
Cannot replicate my embrace,
Or transmit my warmth to your bones.
Let the drops that fall from above,
Moistening your skin,
Remind you of our tears.
As you behold the vastness of the sky
And the enormity of what lies ahead,
Think of me.
The clouds saunter by, with graceful intent
Blown about by winds, with no anchor
To secure them.
You were the roots that kept me grounded,
While you drifted as a tumbleweed,
Free of ties to hold you down
But devoid of security and shelter.
It is your choice.
No man is an island;
Let love be the bridge that joins your island with mine.
Saturday, 15 September 2012
Favourite Quote of the Moment
“When sadness was the sea, you were the one that taught me to swim.”
- Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You
- Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You
I would...
...make someone a kick-ass wife. What a shame that no-one will give me the opportunity to prove this.
#wastedtalents
#wastedtalents
Friday Fill-Ins #84
And...here we go!
1. Sunshine deficiency is no joke. I'm considering the possibility that I need to permanently live in a much sunnier and perhaps warmer climate.
2."She does whatever she wants, my wife," is the last thing I overheard someone [my Dad!] say.
3. I found a recipe for carrot cake with lime cream cheese icing and it really tasted good!
4. I'm looking forward to my life finally going somewhere.
5. Right now I can hear my Dad groaning in his sleep. It makes me feel sad.
6. I'm so tired, I'm having trouble thinking of anything that makes me smile!
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to going to sleep, even though I didn't get an early night as planned (I blame Tumblr), tomorrow my plans include quiet time, reading and Sunday, I want to go home, where I haven't been for more than a week!
1. Sunshine deficiency is no joke. I'm considering the possibility that I need to permanently live in a much sunnier and perhaps warmer climate.
2."She does whatever she wants, my wife," is the last thing I overheard someone [my Dad!] say.
3. I found a recipe for carrot cake with lime cream cheese icing and it really tasted good!
4. I'm looking forward to my life finally going somewhere.
5. Right now I can hear my Dad groaning in his sleep. It makes me feel sad.
6. I'm so tired, I'm having trouble thinking of anything that makes me smile!
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to going to sleep, even though I didn't get an early night as planned (I blame Tumblr), tomorrow my plans include quiet time, reading and Sunday, I want to go home, where I haven't been for more than a week!
Tuesday, 11 September 2012
Both Sides of the Coin...
Reasons to just give up and die:
- I’m in the process of being evicted from the home I’ve lived in for all but 3 years of my life. There is a very slim possibility that we will be allowed to stay. Otherwise, I have 3 weeks to pack up and leave.
- If we are evicted, I will have to move in with my parents, which will be stressful, restrictive and slightly demoralising at my age.
- My Dad has bladder cancer. He had radiotherapy in March, but it has still spread to his lungs and his liver and possibly elsewhere. He has decided to not have chemotherapy and to ‘let nature take its course’. He is nearly 87.
- I’ve been battling depression for most of the past 5 years. I have been signed off sick from work for the past 6 weeks or so and for another 2 more from today.
- My boyfriend of 2 and a half years and I broke up last month. It was sort of a mutual decision in that we want different things at the moment, and we are still friends, but losing the person who gave me the most support both emotionally and financially over the past 2 years has been so difficult.
- I would really like to be in a stable relationship in which marriage would be the next step in the not-so-distant future. I’d love to start a family within the next 5 years and being single now feels like falling back down a mountain that will take so long to climb back up
- I find my job non-stimulating, unfulfilling and frustrating. I feel lost and don’t know what to do career-wise that will pay the bills but still stimulate and challenge me, allow me to feel like I am doing something worthwhile and not be resentful of because I spend more time there than with the people I love.
- The possibility of having to move out means that I will be forced to have a cull of my belongings. Seeing as I have hoarding tendencies, this will be good for me.
- The possibility of having to live with my parents means that I will be around my Dad a lot and will also be able to help my Mum with looking after him, which will give her some assistance and the occasional much-needed break.
- I will have more motivation to make a proper effort to save up and get a place of my own.
- Being off work for a prolonged period for the second time this year has made me realise just how much I need a change in my work life. I’ve desperately wanted a career change and have been toying with going into either teaching or nursing (among other things) for the past few years. This week, I finally started my application to enrol on a Children’s Nursing degree next Autumn.
- Being single means that I can make snap decisions about my life and not have to worry about how they will affect a significant other.
- Having so many things in my life fall to pieces has meant that I’ve had to reassess things and make the decision to implement changes that have been needed for way too long. Making the necessary changes to change my life for the better will hopefully ease my depression and give me positive things to work towards and hold onto.
- Because my life is currently so full of negatives, I’ve realised how important my faith is and how much I need (and want) to develop my spiritual life and relationship with God. I’ve neglected that side of my life for too long.
Friday, 22 June 2012
Tipping Point
After my desperate blog post on Tuesday, I realised that I had once again reached a point where things needed to change. I have been at that point so many times before, managed to claw my way up from it, tread water again for a while (months even) and then slipped slowly downwards again, without realising I was almost underwater until I found myself gasping for air. I can’t keep complaining about my situation when there are things I can do to change it. Granted, I often find those things difficult to do, but they are not impossible, they just require an extra big dose of determination and effort on my part. I can talk to friends about things, to Big Sis, to Samson, and have a good source of support. But I don’t think even my closest loved ones knew the full extent of how I was feeling, or perhaps more crucially, the finer details of exactly why I have been feeling so low. It’s hard to remove the mask even with people I love and trust the most. Writing everything down made me realise exactly how unhappy I have been feeling and that I really must do something to change things.
I wrote a list of what I needed to do this week. I managed to get a few trivial items done, but the most important items, the biggies that glared at me from the page even more virulently the longer I put them off, they were the ones I knew I had to face and get over with. After work on Tuesday, I stayed behind a little late. I called up the employee assistance program we have at work to enquire about whether they have CBT available. They don’t, but I got some details about the counselling they offer and what I would need to do to set up my first session. I called up the loan company that has been sending me threatening emails requesting that I reply, then responding to my replies with generic information that didn’t answer my specific queries. They were threatening to add fees of £350 onto a payment I owed of £315 if I didn’t pay by the 20th of June, despite me telling them more than once that I get paid on the 22nd and could not make any payment until then. When I called, I explained this and stated that it was unfair to add charges that amounted to more than the actual loan, for the sake of two days. Despite me feeling anxious about calling, the woman I spoke to seemed completely reasonable, said that payment on Friday was fine and that they would waive the charges. The last call was to a company that offers free debt advice, including setting up debt managements plans, all without any charge. I called them back, set up a phone appointment for Thursday and arranged to make a list of all my creditors and the exact amounts owed to each.
I feel so much better having done something. My life needs to change and I'm the only one who can change it.
I wrote a list of what I needed to do this week. I managed to get a few trivial items done, but the most important items, the biggies that glared at me from the page even more virulently the longer I put them off, they were the ones I knew I had to face and get over with. After work on Tuesday, I stayed behind a little late. I called up the employee assistance program we have at work to enquire about whether they have CBT available. They don’t, but I got some details about the counselling they offer and what I would need to do to set up my first session. I called up the loan company that has been sending me threatening emails requesting that I reply, then responding to my replies with generic information that didn’t answer my specific queries. They were threatening to add fees of £350 onto a payment I owed of £315 if I didn’t pay by the 20th of June, despite me telling them more than once that I get paid on the 22nd and could not make any payment until then. When I called, I explained this and stated that it was unfair to add charges that amounted to more than the actual loan, for the sake of two days. Despite me feeling anxious about calling, the woman I spoke to seemed completely reasonable, said that payment on Friday was fine and that they would waive the charges. The last call was to a company that offers free debt advice, including setting up debt managements plans, all without any charge. I called them back, set up a phone appointment for Thursday and arranged to make a list of all my creditors and the exact amounts owed to each.
I feel so much better having done something. My life needs to change and I'm the only one who can change it.
Tuesday, 19 June 2012
The Struggle
Why do I only feel like writing when circumstances, or at least the way I feel about them, are bad?
Things were slowly becoming more positive for a while, but without the underlying causes of my unhappiness being properly dealt with, things have once again become a little unbearable. I feel a sense of guilt for not wanting to live sometimes, or lamenting that my life is rubbish, unenjoyable, stressful, boring. I shouldn’t be so ungrateful for God’s gift of life, especially seeing as He has blessed me with so much to be thankful for and I have misused some of those things, causing my own unhappiness.
I’ve often wondered how I would be if I hadn’t had some of the negative relationship experiences that happened in my past. I apportion some of the blame for my insecurities and issues with self-worth to those experiences, or more specifically the people who are responsible for those experiences, but they all seem to be getting on with their lives just fine as far as I know. So if they are not to blame for my continued sadness, then who is left to blame but me?
I’ve had recent meetings with the occupational health nurse at work, as I was absent for work for about 8 weeks earlier this year and my return to work has been phased under her advisement. I mentioned with a sense of regret/chastisement that I hadn’t done or was having trouble doing X, Y or Z. “Yes,” she replied, “but you’re not well. If you were well, then you would find it easier to do those things, wouldn’t you?” I suppose I forget that I’m technically ‘unwell’. It’s frustrating because I feel I should be able to do some of the things I find difficult (e.g. get myself organised, eat enough, do exercise, cope with things in general) and not be able do just makes me feel worse about myself, which only makes things harder. I’m currently meant to be undertaking a course of CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) online, but without the regular contact you’d receive with in-person therapy, I’m finding it hard to be disciplined enough to complete the ‘homework’ I get each week. My lack of discipline is pretty much the source of most of my problems.
I find it hard to confront problems at the best of times – or at least to take the action required to resolve the problems and follow it through. I know what changes, for the most part, are required in my life. But taking the steps to make those changes feels so difficult. I can understand why some feel that depressed people need to just ‘pull themselves together’ or ‘get a grip’, etc. when the things holding those depressed people back seem so trivial. But unless you’ve experienced depression yourself, until you know first-hand how crippling it can be and how insurmountable problems can feel when everything seems utterly bleak, you cannot understand why it is in no way as simple as that.
At the moment, I am still trying to resolve my financial debts. My post earlier this year about being a month or so away from paying everything off turned out to be rather too optimistic. There is an organisation that helps people with debts they are struggling to pay, offering budgeting advice, debt management plans and other assistance, all for free. I filled in their online form and they have called me back numerous times, but I have felt unable to answer. It seems so stupid, but the effort required to go through explaining my income and outgoings, the debts I am having trouble repaying and the companies I owe them to, feels so great. I need the help, desperately, but the final step towards getting it holds me back.
Similarly, the CBT I have been receiving is not really suited to my situation. I’ve found that although I can complete the sessions myself without too much of a problem, the activities I have to complete between each session are problematic. The discipline required to set aside time each day for these activities eludes me. I need to call the office that arranged the online sessions for me to find out whether in-person sessions are available. Alternatively, we have a counselling and advice service available through my employer who may be able to offer the same therapy. Have I made either call? No. The prospect of talking to someone about it makes me feel anxious.
My life has become a constant struggle of putting on a brave face, getting by, barely coping and holding it together. I’m not sure what I’m so afraid of, but it feels like the moment I admit to having the problems I am having and admit to the cracks in my ‘I’m OK’ facade, is the moment the cracks deepen, break, and everything falls to pieces. I’m scared that once I start to cry, I won’t stop. That once I admit that things are not OK, that at times I find life unbearable, that I often feel incredibly sad and disappointed, I won’t be able to keep up the pretence that says otherwise, the very pretence that has made it possible for me to get by thus far, to keep going into work and maintain a semblance of ‘normal’ life.
It must be an indication of things not being right when the prospect of being institutionalised seems – in some ways – to be a good one. Having your basic needs taken care of, having someone else be responsible for the small things that can occasionally feel like too much to deal with, appeals to me. That’s not a good sign. Depression may be a mental illness, but often for me, and I’m certain for other sufferers, the sadness feels present in my very bones, penetrating the marrow, weighing me down from within the deepest core of my body. It’s a burden I carry, one that weighs me down mentally and physically and can’t just be thrown off when it gets too heavy. Fortunately, despite the fact that I often feel like I’m constantly treading water or worse, drowning, I can be encouraged by a quote I heard recently in an inspiring talk by David Asscherick: “The struggle itself is a sign of life”.
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Labels:
Anxiety,
Challenges,
Depression,
Effort,
Encouragement,
Inspiration,
Mental Health,
Money,
Motivation,
Struggle
Labels:
Anxiety,
Challenges,
Depression,
Effort,
Encouragement,
Inspiration,
Mental Health,
Money,
Motivation,
Struggle
Wednesday, 29 February 2012
Friday, 10 February 2012
Friday Fill-In #83
And...here we go!
1. When it comes time to make a decision, I will make it. I work better under pressure or threat of action.
2. Treat others the way you would like to be treated - that must be the rule.
3. Ma says, 'Never chase a man, If he really likes you, he will do all the chasing.'
4. I'm not convinced it's possible to be totally in love with a person while at the same time believing you are also totally in love with someone else.
5. I never saw how bad things were until I had come out the other side.
6. You would think it sometimes from the way people behave, but common sense is not a new invention.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to chilling with the boy, tomorrow my plans include helping the boy with his move before going to see The Mrs for a night in of movies and pizza and Sunday, I want to get home at a reasonable time in order to get organised for the week!
1. When it comes time to make a decision, I will make it. I work better under pressure or threat of action.
2. Treat others the way you would like to be treated - that must be the rule.
3. Ma says, 'Never chase a man, If he really likes you, he will do all the chasing.'
4. I'm not convinced it's possible to be totally in love with a person while at the same time believing you are also totally in love with someone else.
5. I never saw how bad things were until I had come out the other side.
6. You would think it sometimes from the way people behave, but common sense is not a new invention.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to chilling with the boy, tomorrow my plans include helping the boy with his move before going to see The Mrs for a night in of movies and pizza and Sunday, I want to get home at a reasonable time in order to get organised for the week!
Sunday, 5 February 2012
I wanted to write a blog...
...but realised that everything going on inside my head at this moment is negative. And there's already too much negativity going on in the world, so why add to it?
But why don't I ever think, "There's already too much negativity going on inside my head, so why add to it?"
I guess I am just one of those people who will always internalise my problems, my sadness, my anger, my frustrations, my disappointments. I might as well smoke, or drink regularly, or take drugs, or eat unhealthily. Depression is killing me slowly just the same.
But why don't I ever think, "There's already too much negativity going on inside my head, so why add to it?"
I guess I am just one of those people who will always internalise my problems, my sadness, my anger, my frustrations, my disappointments. I might as well smoke, or drink regularly, or take drugs, or eat unhealthily. Depression is killing me slowly just the same.
Friday, 3 February 2012
Friday Fill-In #82
Today I've done this week's fill-ins as well as last week's in one big batch.
And...here we go!
1. It's time to move on and make a change.
2. I’ll have a veggie hotdog please... and don't forget the mustard!
3. I'm trying to not let it get to me, but I don’t understand why I’m coming up against resistance from those who should be on my side.
4. "I see you’re also taking part in Movember", that was the last funny comment I received.
5. Please send me a birthday card this year, if you feel so inclined. It’s so much lovelier than getting a comment on Facebook or a text.
6. I will be packing snacks, ‘cause I'm in it for the long haul.
7. Go ahead, there's some lessons you just have to learn from first-hand experience.
8. The legal right to drive a vehicle on the road - I'll get that soon! (I hope!)
9. Don't worry "about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." [Matthew 6:34, NIV].
10. I think I’ve already used up my positive energy for the day.
11. Pretty much any situation I can provide advice/encouragement/a listening ear for, but some days I can’t even get myself out of bed.
12. I wonder if anyone will ever be truly proud of and impressed with me.
13. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to seeing the ‘rents and catching up on their holiday photos, tomorrow my plans include me probably avoiding going to church, much to my Mum’s disdain and Sunday, I want to get my hair did and pray for snow!
And...here we go!
1. It's time to move on and make a change.
2. I’ll have a veggie hotdog please... and don't forget the mustard!
3. I'm trying to not let it get to me, but I don’t understand why I’m coming up against resistance from those who should be on my side.
4. "I see you’re also taking part in Movember", that was the last funny comment I received.
5. Please send me a birthday card this year, if you feel so inclined. It’s so much lovelier than getting a comment on Facebook or a text.
6. I will be packing snacks, ‘cause I'm in it for the long haul.
7. Go ahead, there's some lessons you just have to learn from first-hand experience.
8. The legal right to drive a vehicle on the road - I'll get that soon! (I hope!)
9. Don't worry "about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." [Matthew 6:34, NIV].
10. I think I’ve already used up my positive energy for the day.
11. Pretty much any situation I can provide advice/encouragement/a listening ear for, but some days I can’t even get myself out of bed.
12. I wonder if anyone will ever be truly proud of and impressed with me.
13. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to seeing the ‘rents and catching up on their holiday photos, tomorrow my plans include me probably avoiding going to church, much to my Mum’s disdain and Sunday, I want to get my hair did and pray for snow!
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
Ch...ch...ch...changes
Things, finally, are going OK. The same money problems (debts, mismanagement of my money and the tendency to shop when feeling low, which was most of the time) that have been haunting me for years, are eventually getting resolved. In December, I joined my local credit union, the LMCU, which is a not-for-profit community co-operative offering financial services (savings and current accounts, loans, etc). They have been really helpful and approved a loan for me to help get me out of the payday loan quicksand I’ve been drowning in. You are required to make a monthly deposit into your savings to be a member and especially if you have a loan. While you have a loan balance outstanding, you also cannot withdraw any money from your savings, which I think is really good. They encourage responsible money management and are a more ethical way of banking, as all their profits go back into providing services for their members rather than paying shareholders. So far, their customer service has been good and just speaking to one of the managers on the phone was a real relief. She was reassuring and encouraging, reminding me that I was not alone and going out of her way to help me. I wish I had found out about them sooner. More info on credit unions and finding your local one is available on Martin Lewis’ website Money SavingExpert.
Samson also lent me a substantial sum of money, which he’s able to do as he’s having to move out of his flat this month and back home. His flatmates have decided to move out and get their own place elsewhere, so he’s moving home until he finds a new place/flatmates to live with, and can save money in the meantime. As for the rest, I’ve applied for a season ticket loan from work (which is interest free and is deducted from my pay over 10 months), which I will sneakily use to pay off most of my remaining debt, rather than buy my season ticket. This means that the vast majority of my outstanding debts should be paid on or just after my February pay day. The rest will be manageable to pay off in regular monthly sums and I hope to be completely debt free (or thereabouts) by the end of the year.
It sounds such a small thing, but it’s only since I’ve managed to make progress with sorting it out that I’ve realised how detrimental this situation has been to my health and outlook on life. It has been a major contributing factor in my depression and cause of unhappiness, insecurity and restrictions in my life. Living payday to payday was depressing, not to mention stressful, as well as the fact that it prohibited me from making any future plans, or making any significant changes to my life where finances were involved (e.g. getting my driving license, moving out, going on holiday, having eye surgery). Aside from significant plans, it meant I was frequently having to cancel/postpone lunch or dinner plans with friends because I had no money, meaning my social life was impaired and I always felt embarrassed or ashamed about it. Most people interpret you saying "I've got no money," as "I'm trying not to spend, but can probably be persuaded to come out for a drink if you twist my arm." In my case, it literally meant "I have no money, I'm not even sure how I'm going to buy lunch tomorrow." Just being able to do regular things in moderation without the horrible feeling of guilt, worry or embarrassment is a huge blessing to me. I don't have quite the same urge to shop either, as part of that twisted buzz I would get came from the fact that I finally had some money, even if it was technically money I didn't have to spend. That feeling of doing something I shouldn't, something illicit, combined with that self-destructive desire to sabotage my own situation and rebel against that feeling of restriction that the lack of money caused me, has gone. Perhaps not completely, I have to be realistic and accept that I still have that tendency and need to keep an eye on it. But in the main, it has gone and feeling like I have some control over being able to spend or save has made me much more keen to save, or spend responsibly.
Things are certainly not problem-free quite yet, but the fact I have a plan in place and one that is actually coming to fruition rather than just being wishful thinking, has been such a huge burden lifted from me. When entering a new year, I like to wish people 'health, wealth and happiness'. 2012 is finally looking like it could be a good year for wealth, not least the emotional kind. Health and happiness can only follow.
Things are certainly not problem-free quite yet, but the fact I have a plan in place and one that is actually coming to fruition rather than just being wishful thinking, has been such a huge burden lifted from me. When entering a new year, I like to wish people 'health, wealth and happiness'. 2012 is finally looking like it could be a good year for wealth, not least the emotional kind. Health and happiness can only follow.
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