The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...?

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.

Saturday and (what I saw of) Sunday

On Saturday morning, I woke up, feeling in a fairly good mood.  Samson’s housemates were away and the place would have been quiet, if it weren’t for the very loud drilling and banging that was going on from the construction work in the park just outside.  Samson was looking all sleepy-cute and crazy-haired as he usually does first thing, and got up to make us tea and bring me some Sugar Puffs for breakfast (it’s been ages since I had some of those!)  I pulled on my tracksuit bottoms and a vest and joined him at the table in the living room for breakfast.  The end of the football season meant there was no football on, but I hadn’t banked on there being cricket and tennis on instead.  We caught a cookery slot on one of the morning shows, where Italian chef Gino D'Acampo did home-made beef burgers.  We decided they looked like a yummy option for lunch, so decided to get showered and dressed and then make a trip to the supermarket for the ingredients. 

We left an hour or so later, me passing the time while Samson was in the shower by watching the top 50 best selling singles by female singers of the year so far according to Viva.  The supermarket is only a 10-minute walk away and seeing as it was already after 2pm and we only had Sugar Puffs in our bellies, we stopped at the café in the supermarket foyer to get a roll each - chicken and bacon (him), cheese and salad (me) – a fruit salad, and a drink each – vanilla milkshake (him), lemon iced tea (me).  We had made a list, so knew what we were getting and were planning to stick to it (for the most part).  About 30 minutes, a trolley-load of food, £80 and an iron-cast griddle pan later, we were leaving, laden with shopping.  Since I contributed a disproportionate amount of cash to the transaction, my real contribution would be in the cooking (at least that was the idea). 

When we got back, we unpacked everything, refrigerated the bits we didn’t need for now, put the lemonade in the freezer to chill it quickly and then picked out the utensils we would need to make the burgers.  For the burgers, we used Aberdeen Angus beef mince.  The recipe contained breadcrumbs, garlic, parmesan, thyme, sun-dried tomatoes and an egg, as well as seasoning.  I chopped up the garlic and two kinds of tomatoes (sun-dried and sun blush, which are slightly less strong), added all the ingredients to a big bowl and mixed it all together with my hands.  Later on, while I was frying the first of the burgers (a tester) on the heavy griddle pan, Samson added some more herbs and then made up the rest of the patties.  He added some dried chilli flakes to the last two.  We toasted burger buns and Samson prepared the table with the salad he’d chosen, coleslaw and various condiments (mayonnaise, ketchup, Reggae Reggae ketchup [ketchup with a slightly spicy Caribbean kick] tomato and jalapeño relish), and a glass each of lemonade. 

We tucked in and were pleased to find that they tasted really good.  The flavours came through well and I was glad I hadn’t been shy with the garlic.  I only just finished mine, since the patties Samson made were quite big.  We were both rather full.  The England v. Switzerland game had started and once we had finished our food, we retired to the sofa to nurse our full bellies and keep track of the progress.  Switzerland scored twice in quick succession in the first half, much to our dismay.  We were both starting to feel very sleepy as the food coma set in and I got quite a fright when Samson shouted at a missed (certain) goal opportunity by Darren Bent.  After a while, I was lying against Samson’s chest and fell asleep, only realising when my leg involuntarily twitched rather violently and woke me up.  I snoozed for a while, then when the football ended in a rather dismal 2-2 draw, Samson decided to play a bit of L.A. Noire. 

I watched for a while and knew it was probably time I should be going home, as I was going out with MiniMe and her friends for a friend’s birthday that night.  I checked my phone for the time and realised I had a missed call from MiniMe on my phone.  It was about 7pm.  I called her back and she told me they were meeting in a pub nearby the club beforehand, at 8.30pm.  It takes about 40 minutes to get home from Samson’s.  Yikes!  I got my stuff together and Samson gave me a big kiss and hug goodbye, making me promise to text him when I got home from our night out.  I hopped on a bus to get to the station more quickly and was pleased to find there was a train in a couple of minutes.  By the time I would get home, it would be just before 8.30, so I texted MiniMe and asked her to let me know what time they would be heading to the club, as I was going to be late. 

When I got in, no-one was at home, which was probably just as well.  I rushed upstairs, grabbed the coral pink dress I had planned to wear from my wardrobe, rooted around for my gold heels, raided my chest of drawers for the skin-tone underwear I needed and then nearly fell off a stool while trying to raid the cupboard above my wardrobe for a vintage pink handbag that belonged to my Mum, that she’d bought in the  early 80s.  I laughed to myself at the thought that it may well be a bit older than most of the people I would be out with that night.  Outfit more or less sorted, I  cleaned my teeth and washed my face, then went crazy trying to make my skin look presentable.  I moisturised my face, covered my legs and arms with cocoa butter and then sprayed my hair with leave-in conditioner to give it a bit more bounce.  It was nearing 9pm.  I tied my hair loosely to keep it out of my face, then put on foundation and a bit of concealer/powder where needed.  I decided not to go with the gold eyeshadow I had originally planned in favour of dark brown eyeliner with flicks, then finished off with a tad more blusher than I intended and a dash of pink lipgloss. 

I threw my lipgloss, lipbalm, oyster, purse and keys into my bag with my phone and iPod (to get me into the mood on the way) into my bag.  I fitted the gel insoles into my shoes to cushion the balls of my feet (I know how hot high heels look, but I tend to go for low heels and comfort so I can dance longer), grabbed my blazer and ran downstairs.  Big Sis and Bro-in-Law had arrived back from a walk and I explained that I was going out but had forgotten to tell them.  Big Sis asked if I was coming home and I said that we would all be getting a cab back together as we live close to each other, but if anything changed and I stayed at Samson’s I would text her.  I got to the station within two minutes of the train.  It was 9.15pm.  One the way, I texted MiniMe to tell her that I was nearly there and she called back to tell me they were on their way too – I was going to get there before them and I had been worried I would be late!  I was glad I hadn’t broken something trying to get the train at 9pm. 

When I got to the station I stopped at a cash point to get out some money and realised with dismay and annoyance that I had left my credit card at home!  That was going to be my back-up, but without it I would only have £20 for the whole night.  I would probably need to save about £10 for the cab!  I got myself a can of Red Bull to drink while I was waiting and listened to some tunes.  Three men dressed as pirates stopped at the Burger King next to where I was standing and got questioned by some random teenagers.  Soon MiniMe arrived, already a little tipsy, and we walked together down to the tube, where her friend was waiting.  They had come in on the tube (I thought it would be the train) and had to get off to collect me.  We had to then get back on and go the one stop to where the pub was.  There we met the rest of the big group of friends (and I tried and failed to remember all their names), sang Happy Birthday to the (three!) birthday girls, ate chocolate cake and got encouraged to be loud by the Italian (?) bartender, who kept clapping and saying “Come on, is this a birthday or a funeral?!”

A friend of a friend bought MiniMe and I some Jagerbombs, which I felt bad at having only just met him, until he told me he was an investment banker and I reasoned he could probably afford it much more than I could.  Plus, I had to gratefully accept generosity where I could, as I was on a stupid budget due to my own forgetfulness.  At times, I felt a bit bad for the other customers, who were a small minority compared to our rather loud group, but I felt less bad when I saw an older man and two friends in the corner eating some of the chocolate birthday cake with their pints.  It was already 10.30pm so we made a move, saying goodbye to some of the gang who weren’t coming along with us to the club and then trying to get a crowd of rather drunk people to go in the right direction, which was a bit like herding cats.  It was all quite amusing.

When we got there, our cries to security of “We’re on the guest list!” were met with a reply of “So is everyone else,” along with directions to the back of the queue.  It was after 11pm, so it would no longer be free to get in, but luckily we only had to pay £5.  Once we got in, we checked our jackets into the cloakroom and then hit the dance floor.  We met up with other people, but it took me ages to realise that some of the party (including one of the birthday girls and the guy who bought us drinks) hadn’t been let in.  I found out later it was some stupid reason like them allegedly eating food in the queue, although I hadn’t seen any of that happen.  The music was good, mainly pop RnB and the rest, with lots of popular favourites and some old school magic (Informer by Snow, anyone?  Ace of Base’s All That She Wants?!  Mr. Loverman by Shabba!)

The whole group were really friendly and good fun, seeing as I only really knew one of them (MiniMe) and had only met the three friends who were with her one time before.  Some of them didn’t know some of the others in the group anyway, so I wasn’t a complete outsider.  The friend who had come with MiniMe to get me from the station had two male friends from uni coming, who showed up later.  They were really funny, both good dancers and lots of fun on the dance floor.  I had a giggle with another friend’s workmate when I caught him doing the bogle to an old tune (probably Shabba) and mirrored him while cracking up.  We had two sofas reserved for us in the corner where people took rest breaks, but I held out as long as possible, as once I sit down I start to notice I am tired, or that my feet hurt.  It was due to end at 3am, and at 2.40am, I decided to get our jackets from the cloak room just to avoid having to queue later on.  When I got back, I took my first rest on the sofa, but soon got dragged up again with MiniMe by one of the guys to dance, which we both did but, minus our shoes.  We danced barefoot for all of 5 minutes before a security guard politely told us to put our shoes back on (I’m guessing for ‘health and safety’ reasons – although not really our own health and safety, since the shoes were steadily becoming a liability).  Not long before 3am, some sort of fuse blew in the sound system and the music cut out.  The DJ looked annoyed, but dealt very well with the boos coming from the crowd.  With it being so close to the end anyway, the lights soon came on and we were gently ushered out.

We hadn’t ordered a cab in advance, so one of the girls ordered one on her phone and we stood waiting while getting steadily colder (me) and hungrier (MiniMe).  There was some mini drama going on with one of the larger group having gone off with a guy we had earlier seen her kissing, the main problem being that she had a friend with her who was meant to be staying at her place, who she had apparently ditched for the guy.  Another friend was going to put her up, but was rather annoyed at what had happened.  “She likes him, fine, I get it, but it’s different when you’ve got guests!”  I ended up perching on one of the Boris bikes lined up on the edge of the payment outside with one of the other girls.  She was striking up a conversation with two guys who were also waiting for cabs, and was making me laugh with her observations.  She seemed quite impressed when one of them said he owned a branch of Subway not too far from her area. 

It felt like we were waiting for ages and MiniMe was getting really hungry.  The girl who ordered the cab realised she had ordered a cab for 4 when in fact that there were 5 of us getting the cab, me being the addition to their usual 4 people.  We then realised that we might need room for 6, as one of the girls was putting up her friend at her place.  There was not much we could do except wait and see what kind of car arrived.  The two guys who were uni friends of the girls were also  trying to get home, which was near Gatwick so a cab to there would probably cost a bomb.  They hailed a few cabs trying to get a ride to Victoria station so they could get a train from there, but the drivers seemed sure that the station would still be closed and there would be no trains for at least an hour.  After several cabs coming and going (both ones they had hailed and ones that had been pre-ordered but couldn’t find their passengers), they were no closer to getting home and our cab eventually arrived.  Thankfully, it was a people carrier and would take 6 – although the girl who had disappeared had returned (partly I think due to stern phone calls from her friends), with the guy in tow, but would be giving her friend a place to sleep after all. 

They were still sorting things out, so we decided to get in the cab rather than wait in the cold.  I said goodbye to the two guys, giving them both hugs and saying it was nice to meet them.  We got in the car and the cab driver amused me with his chatty manner and calls for the rest of our group to hurry up before he got fined for stopping on a red route.  When we finally got moving, he asked us about our different ethnic backgrounds and then bonded over one of the Indian girls when he said he watched lots of Bollywood movies (I’m not sure where he was from, but he wasn’t Indian).  Meanwhile, another girl got a text from one of the guys we left behind, and announced that he said he had a good night and liked her friends, especially the ‘one in the pink’ [that would be me], that he thought he was in love and could we be friends?!  They were all laughing about it, her reassuring me that she had told him I have a boyfriend so we could be Facebook ‘friends’ and no more.  It was quite sweet really, he seemed a nice guy and a little shy, which is always endearing.  I laughed at the fact that I am about 5 years older than him and he probably didn’t realise.

A while later, we stopped halfway home to get two of our group a doner and chips from an all-night kebab shop.  MiniMe and I went out to get them, feeling cold and hobbling slightly due to our sore feet.  We returned to the cab and 10 minutes or so later we were making our first stop – my house.  The girls were saying I should come out with them more often, seeing as I lived so close to them and furthermore they now knew where I lived!  I thanked the girls for a great time and the driver for dropping me off, then hobbled home as quickly as possible.  It was already getting rather light.  When I got in, I tried to be as quiet as possible (Big Sis and Bro-in-Law are light sleepers), took off my shoes and headed to the kitchen to boil the kettle and make some tea.  I could hear a bit of movement upstairs and wondered how I had managed to wake someone up when I had barely made any noise.  A minute later, Big Sis appeared in the kitchen in a big hoodie, looking rather sleepy.  She had been awake for half an hour, so I didn’t feel so bad.  She has been waking up at odd hours lately.  We made some drinks, then I realised there was enough hot water to make instant noodles, so I did that too.  We went into the living room to chat for a bit while I ate my noodles and she told me about having a chat with Mum the other day.  Once my noodles were finished, I decided to stagger off to bed, while Big Sis was going to stay up for a bit to watch something online, seeing as she was wide awake and couldn’t sleep.  I took my tea upstairs, got into my PJs, climbed into bed and then watched a bit of Maury while drinking my tea (trash TV I know).  At about 5.30am the tiredness really kicked in, it was getting quite light and the birds were going a bit mental with their chirping outside.  I snuggled down, tired but happy and feel asleep.

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

Sunday can mostly be summarised thus:

7.30am - wake up (after falling asleep only two hours ago).  Feel annoyingly awake, damn that Red Bull.  Try to go back to sleep and fail.

8.00am - get up, use the bathroom, get some tea and cereal and return to bed to watch TV.

9.30am - go back downstairs to get a drink, take some burgers out of the freezer to defrost for lunch.  Return to bed.  Watch TV, go online, feel really tired but can't sleep.

12.00pm - my knees are killing me and I'm hungry again.  Go back downstairs to get Doritos and dips.  Big Sis steals some while the plate is still on the kitchen counter.  Return upstairs.  Eat the chips in bed, while still watching TV.

1.00pm - put elastic bandage on both my knees.  They are aching terribly.  Either I'm too old for wearing heels and dancing, or my joints are always going to be a tad arthritic.

1.30pm - finally start to feel sleepy again, so settle down to sleep.

4.00pm - wake up to the sound of my next-door neighbour telling Bro-in-Law about something to do with Manchester Utd.  He is rather random.  Hear a car in the drive and Bro-in-Law get in, it must be his parents.  Check my phone and see Big Sis has texted me to let me know they are going food shopping and to text if I want anything.  The shops close early on Sundays, so I text to ask if they have already been.  They have.  They are now going for tea and cake at the in-laws.

4.30pm - I grill the now defrosted burgers and have them with bread, sliced tomatoes, pickles and Reggae Reggae ketchup.

5.00pm - Watch some CSI and other random stuff that's on, as well as the latest (exciting!) episode of The Mentalist.

9.00pm - go to bed for the night with my legs propped up on a pillow to ease my sore knees.

Friday, Friday, Gotta Get Down on Friday...

Last week was pretty good as things go.  It didn’t feel it at the time, but looking back I can’t really remember anything awful happening, so that’s a start, although my memory is not really my strong point, except when it comes to random ‘facts’, occasional notable instances from my past or hurtful things that have been said to me.  Yeah, not so helpful.  But in this case, sort of a good thing.

My weekend was both eventful and quiet in equal measures, but lots of fun.  On Friday evening, we went to the student bar on campus.  It was a warm, sunny evening, and that place has lots of outdoor seating as well as areas of grass to sit on (even though half of it is in shade by that time of day).  We were hoping to have a drink with Shoulders and Kitty, who were visiting from Australia, both old colleagues who were now married and living back in Australia (Kitty is from there originally and came here to work and travel for a couple of years.  Shoulders is English and moved there after she went back home to be with her).  Shoulders worked here for about 10 years and is quite a character with a wide circle of friends. 

We were expecting them at about 5-ish, but then heard he had been to the Isle of Wight to visit his Dad, and wasn’t going to make it until about 8.  I had been looking forward to seeing them both, but by the end of the day, I was starting to feel tired and not sure I was in the mood.  A group of us headed over and I started feeling better after we had been there a while, chatting with different people and seeing other old colleagues who used to work with us and knew Shoulders.  His last day at work had been about a week before he was due to leave the country.  That evening, we had gone out for leaving drinks, him armed with about £60 from his boss, with an order to get some shots in.  £60 might not sound like an overwhelming amount, but in a student bar with student prices, it’s rather lethal.

The night was really good fun, but had got quite messy.  After drinks at the more sedate student bar (which is where older students and staff members drink) and a hat with dangly corks and an inflatable kangaroo doing the rounds, we headed over to the real student bar, where the undergrads hang out, the glasses are plastic and there is a nightclub next door.  At that point there were only a few of us left – me and Samson (about 3 weeks into our relationship), Holmes, Miss T, Dee, Shoulders and a girl I didn’t know who used to work in our department before I did.  I blogged about the rest of the evening and the morning after at the time it happened.

Anyway, this bar was the scene of the crime, the last place on campus Shoulders had been before leaving.  The place where we subsequently learned he had head-butted a friend of a student and then punched him in the face.  Things had obviously worked out OK, in that he had still managed to leave the country and things with Kitty were fine.  It was just weird knowing that we were back here just over 16 months later and a lot of things had changed, but in many ways things were exactly the same.  When Shoulders arrived later on, he was without Kitty, who had planned to come with him when he was planning to come at about 5, but had to give it a miss at the later time as she had tickets to go to the theatre with a friend.  Samson told us about his dad, who was very unwell as a result of alcohol abuse and who was now living on the Isle of Wight in a care home.  They had been to visit him that day, which is why he had arrived later than planned.  It was really sad hearing about it and must have been a difficult experience for him, especially as he said his dad didn’t even know who he and his sister were when they first arrived.  I thought back to the evening he left and remember someone saying that he must have drunk so much more than usual, as he usually kept his drinking levels reasonable because when he drank a lot he ‘got like his dad’.

It sounded like he remembered hardly any of that night, which I suppose made me feel better in the sense that it made his out-of-character (for what I knew) behaviour make more sense.  He showed me his hand that he had broken when he punched the guy, which now had titanium in one part instead of bone.  He told us about what had happened, at least according to the other guy’s statement, which sounded like a complete misunderstanding.  He told us about having to go to court, that he had to pay compensation to the guy and that he go through immigration OK and didn’t get his hand operated on until he got to Oz.  Things sounded like they were going really well for him and Kitty and that he wasn’t missing too much of England other than his friends and family.

Samson was speaking to some old colleagues and I remained with Gannet and his long-time friend who I have heard him talk about but have never met.  It was fun having a chat to people I didn’t know so well and having a laugh, even though we ended up standing for the whole evening and my ankles started to kill me.  At one point, Shoulders asked me how things were going with Samson (since he played a large part in getting us together) and said that without wanting to get too soppy, it was really nice to see us together.  People always say that we are a good couple and although it is nice to hear, it always makes me think of how many people will hate me if we were ever to break up.  I caught up with some old workmates later on – the guy who had been my line manager in my first role here and a good friend of his who had also worked in our department (in a different section) and was on the interview panel with him when I interviewed for that job.  The have all remained in university admin, just at different institutions.  It was really good to catch up with them, not having seen either of them for at least a year.

Shoulders ended up heading off some time around 10pm, having had a long and tiring day.  He gave hugs to everyone and I told him that, without wanting to get too soppy, I was really glad he’d worked his magic to get me and Samson together, as he is a lovely guy.  Gannet left a bit later (or was it earlier) and I saw him stagger off, then randomly saw him again about 5 minutes later, coming to tell me he was leaving.  “We don’t have to hug it out,” he said when I went to give him a hug (he is over a foot taller than me), but I explained it by saying that the tip-toeing was helping me to stretch out my aching calves. (Samson found this particularly funny when I told him later, as he said Gannet had come back especially to say goodbye to me.)  We talked a little longer in the small group of us that remained, then Samson and I decided to make a move sometime just before 11pm.  We stopped off at Subway on the way home as we were both starving.  I had forgotten how good the steak and cheese sub is, and laughed when I recalled The Mrs reminding me how often I used to eat Subway, because I always used to have a six-inch in my bag whenever I saw her.

I went back to Samson’s and we talked for a while before crawling into bed, both feeling rather sleepy.  Samson kept asking if I had enjoyed myself, as he knew I had been feeling a little bit low and not in the mood to go out earlier on.  He was glad I had enjoyed myself and liked seeing me having a good time.  It had been a lot of fun catching up with so many people and having so many previous colleagues around – it felt like it could have been two years earlier, except I was feeling less shy than I did back then and not such an outsider. I guess that’s a small bit of progress.

Saturday Sluggishness

So, as if you hadn't already guessed, my plans to get up early on Saturday morning and meet the fam at church didn't quite pull through. My alarm went off but my body couldn't quite get it together. To be honest, my mind wasn't much help either. Samson and I chilled in bed for a while, slipping in and out of sleep and kiss-sprinkled conversation.

Sometime mid-morning, Samson's phone rang. It was Gannet. "What happened last night??!" Gannet asked. "I'm not sure," replied Samson, "We tried to get him to leave with us, but he was going to stay another 20 minutes. We left at about 2am." They spoke for a while and from the side of the conversation I could hear, things didn't sound good. Samson said they'd speak later and said goodbye. It turned out that not long after we had left him, Shoulders had got into an altercation with someone and had ended up getting arrested. We sat in slightly stunned silence for a while, not quite sure what to say. I just hoped things would work out okay for him so that he could still make his flight on Thursday.

A bit later, Paxton mentioned that he was making breakfast and would we like some? Since I don't eat bacon and everyone else was having bacon sarnies, he made me tomatoes and cheese on toast instead. Once again, I felt bad at making things more awkward for people and would have been grateful for just a regular bit of toast, but Samson assured me that Paxton secretly enjoyed showing his culinary skills off in front of his girlfriend, who was over for the weekend. I stayed in bed and tried to get up and dressed, but it wasn't really working. I was feeling a little bit weird, sort of low and a little bit detached. I knew that the 'rents would be wondering what had happened to me and why I hadn't gone to theirs for only the second weekend probably in a couple of years. I was enjoying being there, but had an odd internal conflict of a slight discontentment with everything else, despite knowing that I wanted to be there and wouldn't rather have been anywhere else at that moment. I texted the Mrs for some moral support, feeling a little bit agitated and knowing that being off my meds for a few days was probably not helping. She gave me some reassurance, helped me to calm down a little and reminded me that things are always a little bit crazy in the early stages of a relationship, because your emotions are so highly strung. I felt a little better, but still felt a bit numb, so lay in bed blankly, while a few tears escaped my eyes. I wasn't sure if I wanted Samson to return to his room to see me like that, but it didn't matter. I knew I would feel better when he came back anyway. Soon, he had returned with breakfast and a cup of tea for us each and we sat in bed contentedly eating, feeling very chilled out.

After eating I felt no better able to get up and ended up falling asleep again while Samson went to have a shower and get dressed. I was in and out of consciousness for most of the day, him chilling out with me at times, then popping out later to go to the shop for some salad bits for dinner and, as I discovered later, a quick pint with his house mate. Eventually I dragged my sorry self out of bed, feeling really groggy and not quite as perky as I would have liked, but at least I was finally awake, albeit at a shocking 8.00pm. Samson had made a start on making us some dinner, so I got dressed and we went to chill out in the living room with Paxton and his girlfriend LucyLiu. I was greeted by a cheeky "Morning!" from Paxton, which made me laugh. I went over to shake Lucy's hand, immediately struck by how intimidatingly gorgeous she was. Having spent all day in bed, I was feeling a little bit worse for wear and quite the scruff by comparison. We chatted while watching some TV in the background. As our jacket potatoes slowly cooked, Samson and I went to prepare some salad to go with them. I felt conscious that due to my epic day's sleep they might think I was some sort of lazy arse, and realised that as much as I don't care about others' opinions on some things, there are certain things about which I seem to be very conscious of what people think. However, for all my internal conflicts and anxiety, the evening ended up being a nice one. We ate dinner, watched some TV and chatted with the others, played a few games of cards and then eventually retired to our respective rooms to watch a film before bed.

Sunday was similarly relaxed and it ended up being a very lazy weekend. I wasn't feeling as emotionally or physically settled as I would have liked to be, which I knew was caused by my abrupt lack of medication. But deep down, beneath the fuzzy, slow-motion, underwater-like feel of my physical senses, I felt a small sense of contentment, of comfort, of belonging. I felt safe in Samson's company. I felt cared for, I felt like I could just be, without explanation or justification. I was still feeling conflicted over not contacting my parents, feeling slightly obstinate and resentful at the thought of having to always answer to someone, to explain myself, my actions, my decisions, my absence. I just wanted to be away from everyone else and not have to live up to anyone's expectations of me or any perceived responsibility. It was almost like a mini rebellion or crisis was occurring inside my head. But for now, right here, I could just be.

Friday Frivolity

The weekend was a weird one. Friday night, I went out with my workmates for Shoulders' leaving drinks. We were only downstairs in the union bar, but there was a good turn out. He had been at our work for nine years, so had made plenty of friends along the way. I only planned to stay for a couple of hours before heading to the rents' and had already called Mum to tell her I wouldn't be home for dinner. But predictably, I ended up losing track of time until it was too late to feasibly get home, not to mention the fact that I had been drinking and didn't really want to arrive at the rents' evidently worse for wear. I knew they probably wouldn't be too happy with me being out on a Friday and to be honest, it didn't sit quite right with me either, but I wanted to be there to see my friend off.

The overall boss of Shoulders' team had inexplicably given him £60 to help fund the evening's frivolities, which Shoulders took advantage of by buying a tray or three of Sambuca shots throughout the evening, to punctuate the bottles of Corona he had otherwise been drinking and the various other beers that people had been sipping pints of. I declined the aniseed-based flavour but did instead have my first ever shot of tequila, which alarmingly tasted much less like alcohol than I had expected. Needless to say, most of the group was feeling rather merry as the evening wore on. I gradually started enjoying the drinks less, so switched from my tipple to apple juice as things started getting more raucous.

Miss T had come down especially, since she doesn't work Fridays, and seemed to be having as good a time as any, despite sticking solely to orange juice all night. Early on in the evening, I was deep in conversation with a couple of colleagues, stood next to one of the small tables everyone was congregated around. I was standing right behind an empty chair and started gesticulating wildly in line with our conversation, not noticing that while doing so, a rather senior member of staff had sat in the empty chair next to me. I only realised when I smacked him over the back of the head with one of said hand gestures. Oops. I apologised profusely, feeling utterly mortified.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't realise you were there!"

"Oh yeah," he said mock-sarcastically, "I saw you lining that up."

I turned back to my colleagues, partly feeling horrified and partly wanting to laugh, while contemplating how long I could expect to keep my job after this incident. I relayed the story separately to both Miss T and Mrs Gravity later on, knowing that neither of them are particularly fond of him and they giggled their approval. Mrs Gravity already had her reservations of him after he was particularly rude to her on one occasion, but she had taken even greater exception to him telling her in no uncertain terms at the Christmas drinks that our team had won the Christmas quiz because of Flame Grilled and Little Big Boss, who coincidentally happen to be the only two male members of the team. When challenged about exactly what he meant by that comment, he tried to deny sexism but couldn't give any other explanation. Mrs Gravity seemed amused and somewhat pleased by my inadvertent physical assault on him.

Midway through the evening, Double G (who was even more cheeky, attention-grabbing and lively than even his normal self) started taking pictures on someone's camera phone and I suddenly remembered that I had brought my camera with me. I put him on camera duty, which he duly accepted with aplomb, taking pictures left, right and centre, most of which included him. As the evening wore on and I had spent lots of time talking with people (particularly a very cool girl from the office called TruBrit), I eventually found myself sat between Samson and Scylar, an old colleague who had left us about 18 months ago. Bizarrely, Samson and I hadn't actually spoken all that much during the evening, mainly because we were both talking to other people that I especially barely get a chance to talk to in the office. The three of us were talking about various things and being silly, but my buzz was wearing off and everyone around me seemed to be slightly more tipsy than I was. After a while, I was feeling a tiny bit uncomfortable about the conversation with Scylar, or maybe his proximity to me, but couldn't quite put my finger on why. I excused myself to take a loo break and when I started to make my way back, Samson was coming to meet me. "Can I steal you away for a second?" he asked, as we stopped to talk and he leaned in for a quick kiss. It transpired that Scylar had made a comment about me that suggested he liked me. Samson had awkwardly admitted "Well actually, I'm kind of seeing her," to which Scylar had responded embarrassedly with "Oh! I'm so sorry!" I had completely misread any such signs and felt really awkward at the situation, but it explained why I had been feeling slightly uncomfortable. Samson, in his typically non-typical, non-macho, non-threatened way, told me that he didn't blame him, because I'm an attractive girl. I wanted to laugh, but it also felt weird having someone I'm involved with react in a non-possessive, rational way. As time goes on, I am having more of these mini realisations that a lot of the behaviour I expect from people isn't necessarily rational, standard or even especially common. I have become so used to expecting the worst, that anything other is sometimes not just unexpected, but somewhat difficult to really comprehend or even accept. We talked for a bit and had a kiss, then were interrupted by Shoulders and Gannet peering at us from around the corner, armed with a camera. They tried to sneak a picture of us kissing, then Shoulders asked if he could have a photo of us together. I suppose he partly wanted the photographic trophy of having played a part in setting us up. It was only a bit later that I realised he had taken the pictures (at least 3) with Scylar's camera. Oops.

Not long after, the lights started to brighten and we were informed that it was last orders at the bar. We discussed going elsewhere afterwards and then when we eventually left, Shoulders, Miss T, Dee, Holmes, Samson and I, along with another girl that most of us didn't know (but who apparently used to work in our department) headed over to the main union bar and club to have a boogie. After getting past security by flashing our staff cards and realising this also meant we didn't have to pay, we were in. Shoulders placed an order at the bar, and then decided to make his way to the dance floor with the girl. Not having had a good dance for quite some time, I followed on behind. It wasn't long till the others followed us. We still had possession of the props for the evening - an inflatable kangaroo with an Aussie flag round its neck and a hat with the stereotypical corks hanging from its brim. The kangaroo acted as an occasional dance companion, but even with our somewhat childish antics, it didn't stop us feeling horribly old compared to the students we were surrounded by, most of whom we were probably 7 - 10 years older than.

Samson and I had a little dance together and we all had a good laugh, partly at Shoulders who randomly kept lifting one of our group up into the air, and partly at a random student with big hair who was totally out of it, seemed to be trying to adopt our group as his own and also seemed to have taken a fancy to the girl. Shoulders and the girl were dancing together (as were Samson and I and Holmes and Dee at times), but occasionally we noticed that they were dancing slightly more closely than we felt comfortable with, knowing that he has a lady waiting for him in Aus, who he is emigrating to start a new life with, is planning to marry and who he was going to see in just one week's time. As the small hours wore on, their dancing became gradually more intimate, their bodies pressed up against each other's and his face buried in her neck. Samson kept throwing the kangaroo over to them as a kind of distraction tactic to try and stop what seemed to be happening, which would divert their attention momentarily, but didn't dissuade them all that much for long. I later heard from Miss T that at one point the girl had started dancing with another guy and Shoulders had tried to intervene. "I'm all right," she had assured him, to which he had responded by pushing the other guy's face away, rather more aggressively than was necessary.

Eventually, Samson took him outside to have a chat to him and reiterate what his choices were: stop what he was doing, go home alone and maintain any respect we had for him. Or, carry on the way he was going and risk losing not just our respect, but everything he had been working towards with Kitty after three long months apart, just a week before he was due to see her. Apparently, Shoulders agreed with him, asking him to keep him in line. While all this was going on outside, we were still dancing inside, while noticing that the girl had started dancing with another student, almost just as amourously as she had been with Shoulders. I was feeling gradually more upset by the situation, wondering what on earth he was playing at, feeling that she should know better, feeling awful for Kitty who was none the wiser and trying not to let the situation reinforce my some-time opinion that men can't be trusted and that even meeting the woman of their dreams who they were planning to marry couldn't prevent certain men from not being controlled by their penises. I know that some might think I was overreacting, but Miss T noted that "there is dancing and then there's dancing." All I knew was that if that had been my boyfriend, never mind fiance, I would not have been happy. It seemed worse because we all know Kitty. I also didn't see the point of it. I don't want to justify cheating, but perhaps I can understand the motivation behind it a little more when someone feels trapped in an unhappy relationship, or they fall in love with another person and desperately want to be with them. But a random night with someone based on a sexual urge that you have (I assume) managed to control for the three months you and your partner have been apart, just a week before you are due to see them? Not cool. I know I was feeling on the emotional side, but it got to me.

When Samson and Shoulders arrived back on the dance floor after their little talk, things seemed to be cool. That is until Shoulders noticed the girl dancing with the random student and decided that he should step in. Not long after, he was leading her out of the club. Samson grabbed him to ask what he was doing. "I just need to talk to her," he said, "Two minutes." We stayed and danced a bit longer, but after a while thought we should probably make a move as it was getting late. We got our stuff together, which had all been perhaps unwisely piled up on the dancefloor next to us and was probably now covered in beer-spillage and footprints. We stepped outside into the reception area while Miss T went outside and came back to report that Shoulders and the girl were kissing each other's faces off outside. We got our coats on while she popped to the toilets. When we had all our stuff together, we went outside. I found it hard to look at Shoulders and was feeling angrier by the second. Samson and Holmes went to speak to him in turn, while Miss T commented that she had known Shoulders a long time and that apparently "leopards don't change their spots." Samson and Miss T later laughed at the South London creeping out in my voice as I expressed my disappointment and annoyance. They tried to ask him to come with us, but he wouldn't, saying he was only going to stay for 20 minutes anyway. We each hugged him goodbye, but all I could utter was a strained "Good luck," before leaving. We made our way to the bus stop, the wait in the cold air sobering us all up a little, although I had felt pretty lucid for the past couple of hours already anyway. We got the bus, Holmes neglecting to come with us so that he could get a different one. Miss T and Dee were going a similar way, so Samson and I went a couple of stops with them before changing to get a different bus to his.

Once again, I had stayed out much later than intended and although I had texted my Mum to tell her I wouldn't be coming over till the next day, I wasn't sure if she would have checked her phone and felt uneasy that they might be worried or disappointed that I hadn't come home, or both. Eventually Samson and I arrived back at his and felt grateful for the warm. We stayed up for a while, lying next to each other and talking about the evening's events, how we were feeling and how nice it was to be in each other's company despite the turn the evening had taken. Eventually, we fell asleep in each other's arms, me feeling content and hoping that he would continue to offer an alternative to my negative perceptions of what relationships have to offer.

Meeting the Flatmates

Samson invited me to have dinner and stay over at his on Wednesday night. It would be a nice chilled evening, but also served the purpose of me being able to meet his housemates. I had stayed at his the previous Wednesday too, but his flatmates were still on their skiing holiday, so it had been a quiet evening in for just the two of us. This time, I was feeling a little bit nervous because of the meet. I've always felt a little bit awkward being around people I don't know, or at least the perception or anticipation of it makes me feel that way. Still, I was looking forward to it and we got lucky when management let us leave work an hour early because of the snowy conditions. It felt really nice leaving work with him, then getting the tube together, him being a gentleman as ever and letting me sit down, then standing up for the rest of the journey to allow ladies who were standing up to take any seats that became available. We each read the paper as we travelled and then walked the short walk back to his place, stopping at the shop to buy stuff for dinner. I had some iced currant buns with me that I had bought on the way to work, so he made tea to go with them when we got in and we sat down to watch some telly.

After a while, one of his flatmates, (Scousey-P) arrived home and said a quick hello while getting ready to go straight back out to meet a friend for a drink. He left not too long after and then his other flatmate (Paxton) arrived, kitted out in his bike gear. He came over and shook my hand and gave me a kiss on the cheek, introducing himself and generally making me feel at home. He was going to make some stuffed peppers for dinner and asked if we wanted some, so we decided to accept his generous offer in lieu of the baked potatoes we had planned. I sat and had a drink, while Samson buzzed in and out of the kitchen, going in to help when needed and coming to keep me company when not. While waiting, Samson and I took the Christmas decorations (huge glass baubles) off the Christmas tree and then removed the fairy lights and put everything away. It was weird, we weren't really doing anything different than I could be doing at home or anywhere else, but it felt really comfortable, like I belonged there, or if not belonged, then at least like I wasn't out of place.

Eventually dinner was ready and they lit the tea lights on the table and brought in three fancy looking dishes. Paxton had made a special meat-free version for me, which I felt a little bit bad about, but he was very sweet about it. The food was good and the company was lovely too. It was nice being around Samson in his own place, with his friends, getting to know them and seeing how he was in his usual environment. I didn't feel anywhere near as awkward as I had imagined I could feel, in fact, I didn't feel awkward at all. We talked, Paxton asked me some questions and I did the same to him and we had a chilled out dinner, with jazz playing in the background. The football was on telly too, Liverpool versus Reading in the FA Cup, and we kept an eye on it while eating and talking. After dinner, we watched the rest of the match, and the boys tried hard to contain their glee at Liverpool's eventual defeat, knowing that they could tease Scousey-P mercilessly about this in the morning. We chilled together most of the evening, then soon it was time for bed. It was such a nice evening. In the morning, I managed to get up in time to get into the shower first under Samson's instructions. We got ready relatively quickly, but still felt sleepy-headed and sat arm-in-arm on the tube in trying to fight the tired feeling. I never thought I'd really want to work in the same place as someone, but it was actually quite cool travelling in together, knowing that we'd see each other, even if only from afar, at some point during the day or could exchange an email here and there.

I've only just realised that I've not really had this before. The whole episode with NY Guy was never a proper relationship in the sense of us physically being able to spend time together and with The Ex, it mostly revolved around him and his surroundings, partly because I wasn't really independent enough and my parents were too strict for it to be otherwise, partly because he was the dominant force in that relationship, partly because I was a pushover, partly because we were both young and partly because we didn't really know any different. What I like most is that I rarely have to think about the details and worry over things, because everything just seems to fall into place with Samson. We're both just taking it as it comes, not getting over-analytical, not questioning everything, just enjoying each others' company. It's the first time in a long time, maybe ever, that I have felt this comfortable, content and happy about such a situation. He is a very cool guy. And for the first time in ages, I am starting to feel like myself again.

Work Returnage and Resolutions

I was not looking forward to returning to work on Monday. Sunday was a really nice, chilled-out day. I stayed Saturday night at the rents' and woke up a little later than planned, feeling rather rough and unable to shake the cold I have probably had for about two weeks or more. I had a nice hot shower (I was quick!), got my stuff together, went downstairs for some toast and tea and texted my uni girls to let them know I wasn't feeling too great, so was running late for our Sunday lunch date. Mum dropped me at the train station and I managed to meet them in fairly good time. We had a great catch-up as usual, me eager to hear about how things were with the both of them and they eager to hear about what had happened with NY Guy since we last spoke. They laughed and were supportively critical of him ("Enough about K-Dog," Ms. Benetton randomly quipped, much to our amusement), then got excited when I told them about the unexpected development with Samson. "I haven't seen your eyes sparkle like that for a long time," said Ms. Blunt, when I had finished getting them up to speed. He was going to come and meet me for a drink afterwards, since my usual meeting place for lunch with girls is only a ten-minute bus ride from where he lives.

It was lovely as always to see them. We had a lovely meal: tasty-looking grilled salmon for them and a boring but comforting spaghetti bolognese for me, followed by a yummy carrot cake and tea each. We belly-laughed as usual and talked about our plans for the coming year, or at least the next couple of months, both Ms. Benetton and I hoping to move out in the next few months or so. After we left, I walked back to the station and met Samson, who was waiting for me. He greeted me with a hug and kiss and we wandered down the high street to a pub that he had frequented before with his housemates. We spent the rest of the afternoon talking and just enjoying each others' company, over a few drinks. We stumbled onto the question of what we were to each other and when dating becomes seeing each other and so on. "Can I call you my girlfriend yet?" he asked, explaining that, "I'd like to continue seeing you. And no-one else." I felt shy all of a sudden, but liked the fact that he was the one initiating moving things along. We had only been on a few dates, but our time together was feeling more and more comfortable and more and more couple-like. I wouldn't think of seeing anyone else and would be offended if he decided he wanted to, so I couldn't find a reason to object. "I'd like to be your girlfriend," I finally admitted, after ineloquently stumbling over my words and not knowing exactly how to express what I wanted to say. It was only later on that I realised that the label wasn't nearly as important to me as either the fact that he had wanted us to have one, or how happy I was starting to feel about the situation.

He had the week off work, after plans to go skiing with his friends fell through because of a lack of cash. We made plans to see each other on Wednesday night, him joking that with the long stretch till pay day still ahead of us, that he would cook me a pot noodle and toast for dinner. Eventually, we decided to make a move to our respective homes, me to get an early night and try to prepare myself for the week of work ahead, and he to perhaps make a start on the application form for Shoulders' job, applications for which were due to close the following evening. He walked me to the station, his arm around my shoulders and mine around his waist and asked me to text him when I got home, before kissing me and waving goodbye. I had only just got on the tube home, but Wednesday already felt like ages away.

On Monday morning, I managed to get up in fairly good time and without too much inner resentment. Work ended up actually being OK. It was busy, so the day passed quite quickly and for some reason, I felt relatively motivated, so ended up staying at work till 7.00pm. Strange behaviour, I know, but I have to work a little extra so that I can leave early on Fridays, so I thought while I actually felt somewhat willing to work late for a change, I might as well. Flame-Grilled and Boots (the equivalent of Flame-Grilled for the other half of our team) had both decided to give up smoking at the beginning of the year. They were both feeling fairly positive about their progress so far, although Boots was slightly more positive than Flame-Grilled, seeing as he had given up since the 1st of January and she had only given up on Monday 4th. Towards the end of the day, I asked him how it was going and he seemed to suggest it was okay. "How about you, have you made any resolutions?" he asked, to which I ashamedly replied that I hadn't. I nearly said something that might have come across as overly cheesy or dramatic, like "To be a better person," or "To just get through the year," but I didn't know what to say. It has been such an odd year that to be honest, to just get through 2010 feeling more positive, contented and happy would be the only thing I could genuinely say I wanted most. I suppose I could convert that into some smaller resolution-like aims, but I didn't really know where to start. I just want to take things a day at a time. Or maybe I'm just rubbish at sticking to such things and know it. Hmm.

On the way home, almost to prove my point, hunger outweighed self-control and I got a burger to eat on the train. When I got in, I was still feeling bizarrely energetic and ended up starting to tidy my room. It probably looks barely tidier to the untrained eye, but I managed to get rid of a recycling sack's worth of paper rubbish and a couple of small bags of non-recyclable rubbish, as well as generally just making things vaguely more organised. Embarrassingly, I found a pair of boots I bought at least a year ago but hadn't yet worn and had been wondering about. I am seriously going to have to continue downsizing if I want to move out this year. I dread to think about just how many vans I will need when moving if I don't get rid of some stuff now, lol. I was up tidying and sorting things out until well after midnight, when I finally got to sleep. This sudden burst of energy, especially on a Monday, a work day, a day so early in the year and a day during which I had felt tired and cold-ridden, was sort of odd for me. I didn't bother trying to question it. It's only a matter of time before it wears off.

Week In Review #25

It feels a bit pointless doing the week in review at the moment, since there is very little of much significance to actually look back on. The days and weeks are flying by and hurtling us toward the festive season and the end of the year. The week has been dominated by this awful cold I have had, so most evenings were spent tucked up in bed, trying to keep warm and expend as little energy as possible. I didn't go to the gym at all, mainly because I was already so tired from being unwell.

Work has been OK, mainly just busy and samey, but at least I haven't had much time to be bored. I am actually kind of enjoying the fact that there are tasks each day that I can just get done. OK, so there will be a never-ending supply of such tasks, but at the moment, I like the fact that they are not on-going vague, loose-ended activities that never seem to get finished. I might be totally bored in a couple of months, but I'll deal with that if and when it happens. At the moment, I'll take boredom over stress and dissatisfaction.

Seeing Lolly on Monday was a tonic. It was good fun as always and a welcome distraction from everything else that was going on. I've had a few good conversations with The Mrs this week too. She always gives me a giggle and helps to cheer me up, or at least distract me from my own issues by trying to get my perspective on her own. It's hard to wallow in self-pity when your sympathy, empathy and advice is required. That's a definite good thing.

The bizarre 'conflict' with Big Sis apparently blew over of its own accord. I was still feeling a little bit put out by it, but Big Sis seemed to be pretending nothing happened, so I went along with that. I reckon if I had behaved that way, the situation would be slightly different right now, but I'm not one to carry on silly disagreements that I didn't even have any direct involvement with in the first place! An odd occurance of pointless upset for no real reason that I can see.

It has been freeeeeeezing this week. Really chilly, but mostly dry and occasionally bright, which is preferable to rain in my book any day. Did I ever mention that NY Guy and I have been in touch? Not a whole lot, but a little. Not really worth mentioning, if I'm honest. I'm trying to work out what the point of him is. He isn't consistent, isn't thoughtful, has a one-sided approach to the relationship and doesn't seem to serve a worthwhile purpose in my life. I should have learnt the lesson by now of pruning unnecessary negativity out of my existence where possible. Maybe I have a fixation with fixing people, not realising that in the process of trying to do so, I would break myself.

Another week has come and gone and with each passing day, a tiny sense of excitement comes with it. I am so looking forward to having some time off work, some time to rest, some time to just enjoy guilt-free, some time to be both productive and lazy as necessary. I am hoping to see The Mrs sometime soon, am meeting my uni girls for lunch just after Christmas, will probably see Lolly at some point and am also hoping to catch up with D if we both get a spare afternoon. It just occurred to me that it was The Ex's mum's birthday yesterday. I had been pondering on whether to send her a card a few weeks back, but now I've missed it. I'm still in two minds as to whether to send them a Christmas card. Probably not a good idea. It's strange that the Christmas season prompts us to think of times past and friends previous and present. Just this evening, Mum and I were discussing the sentiment of Auld Lang Syne and how this time of year, the atmosphere and the music makes us both feel nostalgic. Conflicts can be momentarily forgotten, disagreements dissolved and so forth. I'm starting to think retrospectively again, as I do quite often anyway, but especially towards the end of each year. It's time to take stock, make mental notes of lessons learned, throw away the baggage you don't want to carry into next year and start a new chapter. There are less than three weeks left of 2009 and I am getting ready to welcome 2010 with open arms.

Happy week, y'all.

Making Things Better

I feel kind of numb and blank at the moment. Not quite emotionless, just unable to identify exactly what I am feeling. I'm lacking inspiration, devoid of enthusiasm and lethargic physically, mentally, emotionally, creatively and spiritually. I think 2009 is another year I'd quite like to forget about.

I spoke to The Mrs last night. We were talking about insecurities and self esteem. “When are things going to get better?” I asked. “Things will get better babe,” she replied, “when we make them better. Things are tough, but don't go backwards babe. Go forwards.” Sound advice. I think the desire to do so is there for sure. But the ability? Frozen by fear, confused by lack of confidence, paralysed by past and present pain. I've stagnated and I need to get the current moving again, get some fresh ideas, renewed energy and new life in there to sweep away all the negativity and toxicity that has built up while things have become stagnant.

A new year is approaching and I love the blank canvas that it brings with it. The new year makes way for my favourite season, spring, the season of new beginnings, new life, rebirth, growth and beauty where things were previously bare. It feels almost as though my canvas of 2009 has remained blank, but not in the sense that it is unsullied, more that it just got completely covered over with grey.

I was talking with another friend recently who seems to always have difficult situations come within a couple of months of each other. He seems to just get on with things. Lolly was commenting recently on how within our circle of friends (The Sisterhood and co.), we all seem to have had quite an unpleasant year or so. I went for dinner with Bigger Sis a week ago on Monday and told her about how I have been feeling and that I have been taking medication for it, which I started not long before we went to Cornwall for her birthday in the summer. She had said that Big Bro was concerned about me because I had lost so much weight since he last saw me. When I told her that I had just started taking my medication a couple of weeks before that, she said "That makes sense. When you weren't animated or doing something, you looked unhappy." I knew that I probably wasn't really able to hide how I was feeling, since that was when I was at my worst, but it's not nice to know that it was so evident. I don't want to continue having 'unhappy' as my default setting. It never was before. When I was first experiencing my low patch, before I realised how bad things were and that I was actually depressed, I think I had just gone through a period of no contact with NY Guy. He had cut me off and I didn't know what had happened, but just had to assume that he didn't want to be with me anymore. Boss Lady had known I wasn't very happy, but all she knew was that work was quite stressful. I remember that he got back in touch and we worked things out and then I had a one-to-one meeting with Boss Lady and she commented that I had "got my glow back."

It's funny how you can think that you are doing a good job of frontin', but in fact those who know you, know immediately when you are not quite yourself. I don't like the thought that the people I have met or got to know in the past couple of years have seen the depressed me, the me that is unhappy, the me that is unenthusiastic and insecure and unable to be vibrant and positive about life, the way I'd like to be. I've always had a sarcastic edge, but that's my sense of humour. I can be quite dry about things, but deep down I'm an optimist. I don't like that the positive side of me has been almost inert for so long. I did used to understand the concept of depression, but I didn't fully understand its actual effects until I had experienced it myself the past year or two. I do believe that happiness is predominantly a choice. I mean, we can't always control what happens to us in life, but we can control how we react to each situation and how we allow it to make or break us. But I know now that when your mind state requires the assistance of medication to get back on track, it's not as easy as just thinking positively. I do feel positively for the most part, but that has always been the bizarre thing. Even when I'm being sarcastic and dramatic and negative about things, I usually take a philosophical approach to situations and try to find the funny, even when things are awful. But lately, I've found the melancholy in my mood to be the overwhelming force and my sense of positivity has struggled to keep afloat.

It's bizarre, finding it burdensome and draining to just function socially on a normal basis. I'm constantly aware that other people have so many more pertinent problems than I do, but feeling guilty or unjustified for feeling low just adds to the low feeling. At least when you have a specific situation that you are feeling sad about, you have an explanation for it. When you are inexplicably feeling melancholic and you don't necessarily want to tell the world that you are depressed, you don't feel like you have good enough reason to explain your mood to other people. I can't remember the number of times I have felt completely and utterly physically and mentally drained after being in a social situation when I was feeling low and where the other people didn't know about it. It completely saps me of energy just carrying on a conversation and engaging with the other person, or simply concentrating on what is being said and being able to adequately respond. It's also difficult wanting to just tell people the reason why, just because it is easier than keeping up the façade, but being reluctant to, because you can never gauge what someone's reaction is going to be. It's fine for me to share it with people who know me well, or people who I know have more of an understanding or open-mindedness about mental and emotional well-being. But it's worse opening up to someone and seeing them mentally recoil at or be puzzled by the notion of depression. Being told to pull yourself together by someone who lacks understanding often feels more detrimental than just trying to act normally and tiring yourself out in the process.

I know that this is a stage in my life that I am going through, that I will overcome and learn from. But dealing with it in the meantime can be quite difficult. I have definite peaks and troughs, but at the moment, the peaks aren't frequent enough to balance out the troughs. I know that 2010 needs to be a year of change for me, a year of new experiences, of taking new opportunities and of affirmative action. The Mrs was absolutely right. Things don't get better unless you make them better. So I am going to try to keep on keeping on and hope for good things coming just around the corner.

Is It Only Monday...?

I went out for dinner with Lolly tonight. It was lovely to see her, as always, but it was also handy to be out of the house for the evening. I'm still not sure quite where I stand with Big Sis and didn't much fancy the prospect of feeling uncomfortable in my own home if I was still somehow the enemy. Last night I fell asleep watching Monk on my laptop at about 8.00pm. It was only meant to be a nap,but I didn't wake until it was nearly midnight, so it turned into my kip for the night. I haven't seen Big Sis since Saturday night.

Work was busy as usual today. Flame Grilled wasn't in, so it felt a little bit more relaxed, even though he is very laid back as it is. I got on with the new requests I had,finished up most of the outstanding ones and added all the ones I have completed since I started to the log sheet, which I have kept forgetting to do. I was definitely not feeling quite better, but at the moment, being at work would be preferable to being at home, which says a lot. I felt snuffly all day and was glad I bought the box of man-size tissues (no, not the size of a man, as the name would suggest) for my desk on my way to work. By 5.00pm, I was feeling pretty drained and wasn't sure I would be good company for Lolly, but was looking forward to seeing her.

We went to our usual place for drinks, then on to our other usual place for pasta and meatballs. We did our usual combination of serious conversation, random madness, hilarity, made-up words and amusing hand gestures. I got home at about 11.00pm, which probably was a bit later than I should have done, seeing as I am still not feeling quite well. That said, I didn't go to bed immediately, as I should have done, but took a while to wind down and fell asleep watching CSI some time after midnight. I am a creature of habit.

Good Influences

I met one of my not-so-next-door neighbours on the train this morning. He lives across the way from me and we went to the same primary school, but we don’t bump into each other very often. He is an actor and is doing quite well for himself. Every now and then we see each other on the train, or around our area and have a little catch-up. He’s a really nice guy, very genuine and pleasant. I missed the play he did recently that he had invited me to, which I was disappointed about. I had planned to go towards the end of the run in late October (when I would actually have money to buy a ticket), but when I remembered, it was early November and I had missed it! We spoke on the train about the things he has coming up and whether there are any more events I will actually make it to this time. He’s a bit younger than me, but I was pleased to find out that he’s only younger by a couple of years, which was not as much as I had thought and which didn’t make me feel quite so old!

Speaking to him during the train journey, especially after the text conversation with my other friend last night, I felt perked up for some reason. It’s nice hearing about other people’s successes and knowing they are doing well and enjoying what they do. I suppose it’s an antidote to the lack of excitement in my own life and the grey filter that currently seems to colour my vision. I feel somewhat encouraged and reassured, but I don’t exactly know why. One of my other school friends who I often see on the train (but haven’t seen for a while), once teased that I was a depressing influence in the morning. It was a Monday and I wanted to stay on the train and go back home rather than go to work. I know he was joking about my demeanour because he was saying exactly the same thing, but it still stuck in my mind. It made me especially conscious of the fact that my often lacklustre way of speaking, coupled with the fact that I am quite sarcastic at the best of times, I currently find it draining to be effusively enthusiastic about things and sometimes am simply just feeling low, may not be the most inspiring company for someone to be around. The strange thing is that I can often encourage others and help them to see things positively, but I don’t have the energy or capability at the moment to do it for myself. The next best thing is to be around people who are enthusiastic about life and hope it either rubs off on me or at least distracts me from whatever I am feeling. OK, it might not be a cure for the root cause, but it’s a coping mechanism and distraction tactic and right now, that’s better than nothing.

Soundtrack To My Night

I got home after a day of clock-watching and great difficulty being at work. Big Sis had gone out for dinner with some old friends, so I chatted with Bro-in-Law in the kitchen, while he waited for the oven to heat up and I put the dishes away. I was feeling shattered. I got myself some food and retreated upstairs to eat and watch some TV. I had promised The Mrs I would give her a call, so we had a quick chat about a difficult situation she has to deal with tomorrow. I wanted to have a nice hot bath, so I put the heating on and waited for the water to get extra hot, surfing the net with the TV on in the background. CSI had just finished and an episode of Numb3rs was just starting. I have never watched it, but left it on while I checked my emails.

Gradually, I paid less attention to the laptop and more attention to the TV, as I recognised the song playing in the background of the episode. It was a song called 'I Don't Know,' by a band called Dead Rabbit - the brainchild of a friend I have known since I was about six. I was so excited! I know he has a lot of contacts in the music business and has been doing fairly well for himself, but I don't think an album under this alias has been commercially released. Hearing it being played, for a good few minutes, on a well-known US television show is pretty big!

I grabbed my phone to send him a congratulatory text, but realised I hadn't yet transferred his number to my new phone. After scrolling through my contacts on my old phone, I saw three numbers saved under his name, but couldn't remember which one was the right one. He'd sent me a text a few months back, so I went back into my text messages to find it, so I could use the right number. As I scrolled back through the many undeleted messages I had, the past six months went flashing before my eyes and I suddenly felt overwhelmingly sad. I read through some of the old texts, some of them too painful to read all the way through, some painful because I read them all the way through and some painful because of hindsight and the way things have panned out since. Before I knew it, I was almost sobbing, tears streaming down my face, and I realised that I hadn't really cried for ages. I have been on the verge of crying several times lately, but I just feel choked and can't seem to get rid of the emotion. I often just feel numb and blank. It was weird feeling sad for a specific reason, rather than the general malaise I feel most of the time.

Eventually, I found the number I needed and made a note of it, before turning off the old phone and trying to shut off the memories with it. I sent him a text and then ran the bath, before sinking down into the bubbles and then slathering my hair in a hot oil treatment before washing it. Lots of lathering, conditioner and exfoliation later, I was squeaky clean and ready to get into my pyjamas for bed. My friend had messaged me back and we had a conversation by text back and forth, while he got me up to speed on the latest developments. He asked about me more than once and each time I tried to fob him off with "nothing new happening with me" or "just working, same old," rather than go into any detail about the fact that I am not going through the most enjoyable period of my life at the moment and that I honestly have nothing of any interest that I could update him on. He sounded loads happier than he did when I last spoke to him, when he was experiencing some rough relationship issues. The things he is doing seem to be keeping him occupied, satisfied and mentally and creatively stimulated and it was obvious from the tone of his messages that he was in a much better place. I was pleased for him and told him so. It's great seeing people's successes when you have seen them from almost the beginning of their journey and all the work, effort and perseverance they have put in to get where they are. I really admire his determination and focus, especially in an industry that can be as fickle and impenetrable as the music business can be. His good news was a welcome distraction from my own feelings of loneliness.

We chatted by text for a while, me reluctant to go to sleep even though I really needed to. He sent me some links to his latest stuff online and some videos that have been produced for a few of the tracks. He asked if I’d seen his sleeve – the tattoo(s) covering his entire left arm – and I told him I had (courtesy of Big Sis, via Facebook). We discussed the cost, both monetary and physical (i.e. pain) and how long it had taken to do. Since we grew up together in church, he asked if I was still going. I told him that I was and that I really like the church I am attending right now, and he seemed pleased that I was still ‘keeping the faith.’ I knew his own beliefs had moved away in recent years from what we had been brought up believing and that he had told me a while back that he didn’t think he believed in God. However, he said that he had been debating whether to go back to church sometime, but was wrestling with the idea. I mentioned that the church I go to streams its services live online, so he could always watch on the website if he felt the desire for a spiritual connection without feeling ready to actually physically go to the church building. He appreciated the suggestion and I felt intrigued that his opinion had changed from the strong opposing feelings he had seemed to hold a year or so ago.

Eventually I decided I should get some sleep, sometime near 2am, and we agreed that we would catch up sometime soon. He lives relatively near me and we haven’t seen each other in years. I think I bumped into him one time about three years ago, but since then we have just exchanged the odd email or text intermittently. It is weird how quickly years pass and where life can take you. People’s paths may take them in completely different directions, but the paths can still intersect again, sometimes just the once, or maybe at regular intervals. At times, I have needed to remove certain relationships from my life, but I’ve decided that in general, I’m not one to completely burn bridges. It may not always be possible, right or wise, but when it is, I’ve realised that I like to keep the door of reconciliation open, as much as possible.

A Woman's Right To Shoes

I planned to stop by Oxford Street on my way home, to buy some nice new long-sleeved stretch tees from Primark (yeah, I spare no expense). I had offered to buy a couple for Mum, so I used this as the basis for justifying my impromptu shopping trip. It’s not for me, I am doing a favour for my beloved mother, therefore this can’t count as a proper shopping spree. Towards the end of the afternoon, Lolly emailed me, asking if I wanted to get a quick beverage before going home. I mentioned my planned trip for a spot of restrained shopping and asked if, before grabbing a beverage, she wanted to come along. It was a silly question, I should have already known the answer.

Lots of excitement later, I was getting off the tube and calling Lolly to find out where she was. We met outside Primark and had barely stepped in the door before picking up matching polka-dot umbrellas that opened up nearly as wide as our height. The only problem with this was that we then had to carry them around the store while we shopped, which wouldn’t have been quite so annoying if we didn’t keep getting hooked on to clothing displays and clothes racks as we passed. As I should have expected, the basic tops I had come to buy were a doddle for Mum’s size, but a needle in a haystack-type archaeological excavation for my size. I managed to salvage what I wanted from the increasingly messy pile of clothes on display (the poor shop assistants – that task is tantamount to hard labour). Being disciplined and sticking to the shopping ‘list’ I had in my mind, I accompanied Lolly upstairs for a quick peek at the shoe section. This is where is all went wrong.

We found cute pairs of pumps and I found a nice leopard-print pair that are a tiny bit sparkly and darker than my other pair (which therefore looks better for winter. I’ve thought this argument through, so don’t bother, lol). I tried on a few other things, but I didn’t fall in love with any of them, so decided to be restrained. Goodness knows what might have happened if I had seen more stuff I really liked. Lolly, on the other hand, like a true pro of the game, had gradually picked up five pairs of pumps in this time, in different colours and styles. Impressive. We were both starting to get claustrophobic and anxious in the way that only the flagship branch of Primark can induce, so we headed for the tills. That’s when the pair of boots caught Lolly’s eye. She tried them on. I encouraged her. They looked rather nice and she said they were comfortable. They were also a bargain. Into the basket they went.

We meandered over to some tills we hadn’t realised existed and were pleasantly surprised by the short queue (of about four people, which counts as ‘express’ relative to the queues of twenty-plus you usually get). Looking around us while waiting in the queue, we realised we were in the men’s section. Ahh, figures. Soon we had paid and had matching huge brown paper Primark bags, with matching polka dot umbrellas poking out of the top of them. Once we left, we popped over the road into Superdrug, where Lolly kept looking at things and saying “Mmm, stuff,” and “Mmm, things,” which kept making me giggle. We bought cold drinks (2 for 1 Purdey’s – mmm, vitaminalicious) and then left to go to Starbucks, so that Lolly could use her free drinks voucher from her coffee crush at her Starbucks near work. On the way, a man in a grey hoodie jogged past me who looked scarily similar to NY Guy. Despite the fact that the other looky-likey of him I saw the previous weekend was also jogging and wearing a grey hoodie, I started to wonder if I would be constantly migraging images of him until I knew he was no longer here. It freaked me out a little, but I know I’ll get over it. Eventually.

We stopped to get cash and then went to the coffee shop next door, Lolly ordering our drinks, while I played bag bitch, holding and guarding our goods until the drinks arrived. We went to get a table in the seating area downstairs, which was loads bigger than I had realised and sat nursing our drinks for ages, while chatting over out latest gripes and giggles. Before long, we realised it was after 8pm and I remembered I wanted to make a quick detour via Gap. I went in for a bra and came out, after trying on about 5 different things, with a bra, plus a pair of nice stripy pyjama bottoms. Oops.

We decided it was time for food and went with the naughty option of KFC. Lolly got a Loaded Zinger Meal, I got a Buffalo Toasted Twister meal (I have to eat them as much as possible before they go, they’re limited edition, ok?), then we both got a table and sat down for eating and more talking. We kept talking about “when we have our flat,” which was cracking us up, because we were thinking of exactly how much space would be required for our combined collection of accessories, shoes (now that there were seven more pairs between us) and beauty products. “Think of the money we’ll save!” I reasoned, explaining that we would need to buy less because we would be sharing lots of things. “We won’t need to go out for food to hang out,” said Lolly, “Think of the money we’ll save on dinners and Starbucks! Oh my goodness, think of the size of our combined DVD collection!” I suggested that we may very well need to get a pre-nup, to decide who would overtake ownership of any jointly-bought items if we ever 'broke up.' Aside from the fact that we’ll be both paying more rent than we currently are, I still reckon it will work out cheaper, lol. Not to mention the fact that we can bake cakes and make meatballs and pasta at home, all without having to change out of our pyjamas. Result.

Soon we realised it was nearing 10pm and what was meant to have been a quick hot drink, ended up as an impromptu shopping and food extravaganza. I became distracted slightly by a boy and girl behind us, eating their KFC meals and in deep conversation about the Freemasons and the Illuminati and all the hip-hop and soul artists who are involved in it. We chit-chatted a bit longer and then realised it was time to leave, even though we then ended up chatting for another 10 minutes or so outside, until the same boy and girl eventually left too and passed us standing there chatting. Eventually we hugged and went our separate ways, Lolly to the tube station and me to catch a bus. I got home, said a quick hello to Big Sis before she retired to bed, then got washed and changed and into bed to edit a blog post or two and watch some of the latest and final series of Monk. I slept later than I should have done and had weird dreams that I can’t remember, but which left me feeling a little bit uneasy. But overall, the evening had been a fun one. That’s Monday over with!

Week In Review #23

You know, every week I seem to be miserable, but at the end of every week when I look back, I seem to remember lots of the good things, even if they were few and far between. I like that I have this built-in selective memory. I only remember the bad things when they occur repeatedly, like when someone lets me down lots of times, or hurts me in a big way. Otherwise, I can be pretty rubbish at keeping grudges. It’s probably just as well!

I honestly can’t really recall much of the past week, so here are the main things that spring to mind:

Crappest News of the Week
That two people in our department are being made redundant and all the temps will be leaving at the end of November. Great news for those people, just before Christmas, eh?

Best Book-End Activities of the Week
Going to two concerts, one at either end of the week, both incredible in completely different ways.

Most 'Aww'-Inducing Event of the Week
The children’s day at church. Those little kiddos rocked. Proof of how creative children can be when they are given the right balance of encouragement, discipline and ownership.

Best Gift of the Week
Big Sis’ gift of a wedding dress to V. She is gonna look soooo purdy!

Biggest Relief of the Week
Applying for a bank account and surprisingly getting a small overdraft approved that should make my life loads easier and that they may even pay me £100 for opening because I transferred all by direct debits from my existing account with another bank. Not to mention the fact that I like the new bank’s uniform (priorities, lol) and both the manager and one of the customer service assistants are both lovely, very friendly and rather good looking in a very clean-cut way (but way too young for me, lol, slightly depressing when your bank manager is way younger than you). I will actually have money to eat for a change (mostly) and might even be able to get new glasses now, instead of squinting at the TV in the evenings after I’ve taken my contacts out. Gangsta!

Toughest News of the Week
That my uncle, who has been in hospital for quite some time and has a leaking blood vessel that they can’t seem to track down, was crying in frustration this week at the fact that the doctors can’t seem to identify the root of the problem. He has been suffering from complications from a previous operation for ages and they can’t seem to treat the cause. It’s so hard being 200 miles away and unable to just pop by and visit him to cheer him up.

Scariest Day of the Week
31st October. No, not because it was Halloween, or even that it was Bro-in-Law’s parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. Mainly just because it heralded the end of October, meaning there are only 2 months of this year left. What the hell? 2009, where have you gone? We’re a decade into the 2000’s next year…

Best Reading Material of the Week
New blog-post poems from The Mrs! She doesn’t write as much as she used to now, so I love reading them when she does!

Most Laughter-Inducing Event of the Week
Meeting up with The Sisterhood and friends (who from now on in this capacity will probably referred to as the GNOMEs) in a crowded underground bar, being silly as usual and making future plans for many more fun evenings to come.

The weeks are blurring into each other at the moment. It took quite some effort to even remember the little snippets of the past week, let alone anything that went before that. I know I was feeling low this past week, but now it’s gone, all I can remember are the fun parts. I’m not complaining about that.