On Friday night, I wrote a song in my dream. I woke up briefly and could remember the words. I remember thinking that I should write them down before I forgot, but then promptly fell back to sleep. I never did remember them.
Last night, I dreamt of The Ex's mother and one of his nephews that was fond of me. The Ex then tried to sexually assault me. I was fighting him off and had a knife, but I couldn't hurt him. I managed to get away to try and report him, but ended up doing so to the elegant female owner of a high-end boutique shoe shop, who bore more than a passing resemblance to the current president of the International Monetrary Fund.
My dreams are weird.
Sunday, 4 November 2012
Habits and Being Tied Down
I'm sitting in bed, in the bedroom I have at my parents' house. Dad is in his bed in my parents' bedroom next door. I can hear him through the wall making the occasional groan in his sleep. Sometimes the groans are more frequent, almost on every breath he takes. When they get like that, I find it a little bit distressing. It makes me sad.
I'm sitting here, engaging in my own form of self-harm: picking at parts of my skin until quite often it bleeds - spots, blemishes, imperfections, old wounds that have partially healed. I look at the damage I have done and wonder what drives me to do it and how I am stuck in the compulsive, vicious cycle of picking to relieve anxiety, then feeling worse about myself when I make blemishes ten times worse or create new ones. I think about all the things that have gone wrong. I think about texting someone, but don't know who. I laugh at the thought of someone wanting to get to know me, the guy I met at the bus stop when I was uncharacteristically wearing bright pink lipstick and a new leopard-print coat. I think of him looking me up on Facebook and seeing the profile picture of me with skeleton make-up for Halloween. I laugh at the idea that I might have a fun image, the image of someone who is carefree and confident. I cringe at the idea of him discovering the real me, all sorrowful and intense, dark and cynically comic.
While writing this, I got side-tracked looking up compulsive skin picking (CSP) online. I've known for several years that it's a problem and moreover one that is an actual condition/disorder, has a name (dermatillomania) and potential treatment. I've just never got around to speaking to my doctor about it. I suppose partly because it doesn't significantly affect other areas of my life to a degree that has forced me to take action. It's also partly out of shame.
While being side-tracked looking up CSP, I then had to help my Mum as she cleaned and changed my Dad, then got him positioned for the night. He was rolled onto his side so she could change and clean him and I was holding his back so that he couldn't roll back. He tried to, several times. Once we were finished, we sat him up, bolstered by pillows, so that Mum could feed him one of his supplementary drinks - a bottle of approximately 250ml, taken in 20ml servings. You can imagine the patience that requires. He also takes at least 2 swallows for every cap-ful. Because Dad has been bed-ridden for at least a month now, he has developed 2 pressure sores on his behind. The base of his spine protrudes in a way that looks painful, because he has no muscle or fat left to offer any padding. I inherited my rather substantial backside from my Dad and it makes me sad seeing how little flesh he has left. Mum was openly concerned about the pressure sores, because they won't readily heal while he is still on his back all the time. She had put a dressing on them and once he had finished his drink, we had to turn him onto his other side, then bolster him with more pillows, some behind his back, to try and stop him from rolling onto his back. When finished, I kissed Mum goodnight and came to bed to finish writing. She went to bed and I could hear her just minutes later chastising my Dad for trying to roll back.
I just want to cry. I don't know how my Mum has the strength to continue. It's so hard seeing my Dad in this state, but almost harder when my Mum speaks to him firmly or harshly. I know it's tough love, but I find it quite difficult. I also know how stressful it must be for her. It's a double-edged sword, her being a nurse. It means she is able to care for him in a way that a non-medical person wouldn't be able to. It also means she has been able to manage without outside help for as long as she has. But it also means that she worries more, because she knows from experience what the consequences of certain situations can be and also means that she has higher standards and therefore greater expectations of any other nursing staff that may come in to help Dad. The situation is just awful. I find it emotionally draining, but I would feel awful if my Mum was dealing with this all alone.
When I reading about CSP earlier, I discovered that there are various causes regarding what causes it, with some suggesting neurological factors. One theory is a psychological one, which suggests that "picking behavior is a result of repressed rage felt toward authoritarian parents. A similar theory holds that overbearing parents can cause the behavior to develop in their children." [Source: Wikipedia.] Yikes. I can certainly relate to that to some degree and I know I have a sensitivity, especially when feeling low, to the way my Mum speaks sometimes when she is being harsh. I probably need years of therapy.
I don't know what this post is about anymore. I just felt the need to write and then found my mind jumping from one subject to another, in an attempt to make sense of what I'm feeling. Another friend announced his engagement today. I texted The Mrs saying that I felt like life was leaving me behind. Her reply was that it isn't and that these people are just getting tied down. I would happily be tied down by a loving boyfriend right now. The reality of being tied down to depression, monotony, helplessness, duty, stress, grief, guilt and insecurity is not really working right now.
I'm sitting here, engaging in my own form of self-harm: picking at parts of my skin until quite often it bleeds - spots, blemishes, imperfections, old wounds that have partially healed. I look at the damage I have done and wonder what drives me to do it and how I am stuck in the compulsive, vicious cycle of picking to relieve anxiety, then feeling worse about myself when I make blemishes ten times worse or create new ones. I think about all the things that have gone wrong. I think about texting someone, but don't know who. I laugh at the thought of someone wanting to get to know me, the guy I met at the bus stop when I was uncharacteristically wearing bright pink lipstick and a new leopard-print coat. I think of him looking me up on Facebook and seeing the profile picture of me with skeleton make-up for Halloween. I laugh at the idea that I might have a fun image, the image of someone who is carefree and confident. I cringe at the idea of him discovering the real me, all sorrowful and intense, dark and cynically comic.
While writing this, I got side-tracked looking up compulsive skin picking (CSP) online. I've known for several years that it's a problem and moreover one that is an actual condition/disorder, has a name (dermatillomania) and potential treatment. I've just never got around to speaking to my doctor about it. I suppose partly because it doesn't significantly affect other areas of my life to a degree that has forced me to take action. It's also partly out of shame.
While being side-tracked looking up CSP, I then had to help my Mum as she cleaned and changed my Dad, then got him positioned for the night. He was rolled onto his side so she could change and clean him and I was holding his back so that he couldn't roll back. He tried to, several times. Once we were finished, we sat him up, bolstered by pillows, so that Mum could feed him one of his supplementary drinks - a bottle of approximately 250ml, taken in 20ml servings. You can imagine the patience that requires. He also takes at least 2 swallows for every cap-ful. Because Dad has been bed-ridden for at least a month now, he has developed 2 pressure sores on his behind. The base of his spine protrudes in a way that looks painful, because he has no muscle or fat left to offer any padding. I inherited my rather substantial backside from my Dad and it makes me sad seeing how little flesh he has left. Mum was openly concerned about the pressure sores, because they won't readily heal while he is still on his back all the time. She had put a dressing on them and once he had finished his drink, we had to turn him onto his other side, then bolster him with more pillows, some behind his back, to try and stop him from rolling onto his back. When finished, I kissed Mum goodnight and came to bed to finish writing. She went to bed and I could hear her just minutes later chastising my Dad for trying to roll back.
I just want to cry. I don't know how my Mum has the strength to continue. It's so hard seeing my Dad in this state, but almost harder when my Mum speaks to him firmly or harshly. I know it's tough love, but I find it quite difficult. I also know how stressful it must be for her. It's a double-edged sword, her being a nurse. It means she is able to care for him in a way that a non-medical person wouldn't be able to. It also means she has been able to manage without outside help for as long as she has. But it also means that she worries more, because she knows from experience what the consequences of certain situations can be and also means that she has higher standards and therefore greater expectations of any other nursing staff that may come in to help Dad. The situation is just awful. I find it emotionally draining, but I would feel awful if my Mum was dealing with this all alone.
When I reading about CSP earlier, I discovered that there are various causes regarding what causes it, with some suggesting neurological factors. One theory is a psychological one, which suggests that "picking behavior is a result of repressed rage felt toward authoritarian parents. A similar theory holds that overbearing parents can cause the behavior to develop in their children." [Source: Wikipedia.] Yikes. I can certainly relate to that to some degree and I know I have a sensitivity, especially when feeling low, to the way my Mum speaks sometimes when she is being harsh. I probably need years of therapy.
I don't know what this post is about anymore. I just felt the need to write and then found my mind jumping from one subject to another, in an attempt to make sense of what I'm feeling. Another friend announced his engagement today. I texted The Mrs saying that I felt like life was leaving me behind. Her reply was that it isn't and that these people are just getting tied down. I would happily be tied down by a loving boyfriend right now. The reality of being tied down to depression, monotony, helplessness, duty, stress, grief, guilt and insecurity is not really working right now.
Friday, 2 November 2012
Life On Pause
Life feels halted at the moment. Not stagnant from my own inactivity, as it has often done previously. But on hold. I have been signed off from work on medical grounds since mid-August. Over the past few weeks, I have spent most of my time at my parents' house, partly by choice, partly from a sense of duty.
In the last week, my Mum admitted that she could no longer manage caring for my Dad on her own. Not for any emotional reason or lack of ability, but simply because my Dad had got so weak that he can't even support his own body weight. What this means in practical terms is that when my Mum turns him onto his side in order to change his pad (he wears these as he is not physically strong enough to get to the toilet in time) or wash him down below, or lifts him up to add extra pillows below his head and neck so that she can give him water/supplementary drinks/soup, she is supporting all of his weight on her own. It is tiring on her back muscles and could potentially cause her injury. So Big Sis and I have been here most of the time, so that one of us can help her when necessary.
I was informed by the HR department at work that my pay will reduce by half from the 15th of November if I am still on sick leave. I can't afford to live on half my pay, partly because of my financial commitments to my debt management plan, so I had planned to return to work before them to avoid the huge drop in income. But I don't know how ready I will actually be to return to work. My room is in its regular state of disarray and my motivation to make it exactly how I want it has waned with the lack of information regarding our status as tenants there. We wrote to the council to ask for clemency and have heard nothing back, so have no idea whether they still intend to proceed with evicting us. We don't want to contact them, for fear of 'reminding' them of our situation and starting the process up again. At least for now we can remain there, but at the same time without any formal permission to continue living there (i.e. a new tenancy agreement), we are living with an uncertainty that makes it hard to feel completely comfortable and relaxed.
This time last week, we thought that Dad was on his way out. He had deteriorated noticeably even within a couple of days. He was refusing food and even the supplementary drinks that he is usually always willing to have. His saliva was gurgling in his chest when he took breaths. The words "death rattle" came to mind and I wasn't sure whether he would see out the week. This week, he seems more alert, has been drinking a lot and has even managed some soup on a couple of occasions. Early in the week, my Mum arranged a visit from a palliative care nurse. She was going to arrange for district nurses to visit for an assessment. It is likely they will want to install a hospital bed in the house, so that when they come in and care for Dad, they won't have to bend and lift as Mum has been doing. However, we've had no contact from them so far. It's good that Mum will finally be getting (and accepting!) some assistance, but we've no idea how long that will take to set up. So in the meantime, she is relying on us.
Last Friday evening, because Dad seemed in such a bad way, I texted Big Sis to tell her and she came over. She stayed over on Friday night and on Saturday night too, as I had plans to go dancing with MiniMe and her girls. It was easier to go back to mine after the night out, so I returned here on Sunday to find that Bro-in-Law had also gone over for a visit. Bigger Sis came over in the evening and Big Sis and I stayed that night as well. On Monday, I mentioned that I might need to go home on Tuesday. Big Sis announced that she was going home on Tuesday. "Well, I can't go home as well then, as someone needs to stay here with Mum," I stated. She didn't contradict me, but said she'd return on Thursday. On Thursday evening, I had tickets to go to a gig with Lolly. I texted Big Sis on Thursday morning to ask if she was coming over. "I wasn't planning to," she replied. *sigh* I reminded her that she had mentioned she was coming back on Thursday, but in the end, I decided to go back to Mum's after the gig (which would be rather late as it was due to finish at 11pm or so). She ended up coming over this afternoon.
I'm finding it quite a strain dealing with this at the moment. She knows that Mum needs someone here, but puts herself first when she has "stuff to do". She has also been signed off work for some time, but I don't see how her situation is any different from mine and I still manage to do my bit at home. I've been putting Mum first although I could really do with some time at home myself, because she doesn't have anyone else. She's our mother and she's caring for our father. Of course I'm going to help. It means that my own life is often on hold, that I can't make progress with sorting out my things at home, because I need to be here. That I can't make a lot of the social plans I'd like to because I have to be here. That I'm not getting organised and prepared for returning to work because summoning the emotional strength would require me spending quality time on my own and that's just not feasible at the moment. Maybe I'm the sucker because I always do what's expected of me, rather than what suits me best like Big Sis does.
Going out twice this week has provided much-needed respite, but I'm always conscious that my Mum doesn't really have that luxury. I've felt more and more that it's worked out for the best that Samson and I broke up, as I've no idea how I would sustain a relationship in this situation. I feel like I'm constantly one crying session away from an emotional breakdown. I want to reach out to people, but then feel unable to really express myself and they feel helpless as there is nothing they can really do. I've been feeling incredibly lonely at times. I feel like I'm much better when in a relationship and have someone who reduces my emotional burdens just by being there, someone who I can give all my affection to and love like the stupidly big-hearted idiot I am. But the thought of opening up to someone new and revealing the damaged, fragile, crazy, intense and volatile person I have become lately is just too painful. I am stuck between wanting desperately to be loved, to be completely vulnerable and honest, and feeling embarrassed about how I am and needing to push away out of self-preservation.
I've realised that I live off other people's acceptance/love/desire/attention. When I say 'people' I think I pretty much just mean 'men'.I seem to consider relationships (in my head at least) with anyone vaguely nice who shows an interest. I remember doing this at school, even when I knew I didn't fancy the person who liked me. It was almost as though I felt I owed it to them to at least consider it, just because they were nice enough to think me desirable. I've not often stopped to think, "Is this person worthy of my attention/interest/love?" or even considered whether our values or aspirations or mindsets are the same. If they are nice and I am attracted to them, then boyfriend they are. What is wrong with me? I threw myself headlong emotionally into an impractical relationship with NY Guy that never materialised. I ended up with Samson because I knew he liked me, I found him attractive and discovered he was a pretty nice guy. I told him I was suffering from depression and taking medication for it on the first night and he didn't run away screaming, so I guess I just surmised he was a keeper. Even with The Ex I found solace in friendship with him when I became slightly isolated from my female peers. Then a kiss meant the line of friendship had been crossed and 6 years later I was fucked up emotionally beyond what I could have ever expected. Last night on my way home from the gig with Lolly, a guy started talking to me at the bus stop who was nice. It was just a nice, friendly, adult but cute conversation and reminded me that there are nice guys out there who are comfortable enough in their own skin to just have a chat without asking for your number. But today, I started trying to find him on Facebook with just a first name and an area. WHY?! I didn't even fancy him, I just found him to have an attractive personality. I think I'm a relatively good judge of character, but in a general sense. When it comes to deciding whether someone is the right person to allow an intimate place in my life and heart, my good judgement ends. I seem at least able nowadays to weed out the abusive/controlling types, but I think I get so impressed that a man manages to be half decent, that I don't set any further standards.
It's probably just as well that I am single and not in a position to practically maintain a relationship. I know my ridiculous need for affection will drive me to my downfall. I just want to be settled. MiniMe told me I should enjoy some 'me' time and make the most of being single. I would if I could, but nothing in my life is enjoyable enough at the moment. I'm not at work and even when I return, I know it won't bring me much joy because it's a job that has long lost any sense of fulfilment or satisfaction for me. Family life is good in one sense, but strained because of the fact it revolves around Dad and his illness. In some ways I feel at times that I am just waiting for him to die and the thought shames me. Alongside everything else, I am still fighting my depression and that sometimes makes it hard to enjoy anything. I try to make social plans where I can, but am often hindered by the other aspects I've just mentioned. How can I enjoy being single? Nothing else in my life is stable, the one thing I crave is a stable relationship. This week, an old school friend announced a pregnancy. I felt excitement for her, followed by a pronounced pang of what I can only describe as envy. Not because I want a baby right now, but because of the fact that she is at a point in her life that is stable and happy enough that she can have a baby. Weddings I've attended over the past few years have made me feel sad for the same reason. When will my life be at a point where things start falling into place? When will I get my happy beginning?
I can't see a start to any of these aspirations any time soon to the extent that lately I am just wanting an end to my current situation instead. Every year I hope the next will be better. So I'm just going to try to hang on for the next 2 months and pray that 2013 will finally be my year. God help me until then.
In the last week, my Mum admitted that she could no longer manage caring for my Dad on her own. Not for any emotional reason or lack of ability, but simply because my Dad had got so weak that he can't even support his own body weight. What this means in practical terms is that when my Mum turns him onto his side in order to change his pad (he wears these as he is not physically strong enough to get to the toilet in time) or wash him down below, or lifts him up to add extra pillows below his head and neck so that she can give him water/supplementary drinks/soup, she is supporting all of his weight on her own. It is tiring on her back muscles and could potentially cause her injury. So Big Sis and I have been here most of the time, so that one of us can help her when necessary.
I was informed by the HR department at work that my pay will reduce by half from the 15th of November if I am still on sick leave. I can't afford to live on half my pay, partly because of my financial commitments to my debt management plan, so I had planned to return to work before them to avoid the huge drop in income. But I don't know how ready I will actually be to return to work. My room is in its regular state of disarray and my motivation to make it exactly how I want it has waned with the lack of information regarding our status as tenants there. We wrote to the council to ask for clemency and have heard nothing back, so have no idea whether they still intend to proceed with evicting us. We don't want to contact them, for fear of 'reminding' them of our situation and starting the process up again. At least for now we can remain there, but at the same time without any formal permission to continue living there (i.e. a new tenancy agreement), we are living with an uncertainty that makes it hard to feel completely comfortable and relaxed.
This time last week, we thought that Dad was on his way out. He had deteriorated noticeably even within a couple of days. He was refusing food and even the supplementary drinks that he is usually always willing to have. His saliva was gurgling in his chest when he took breaths. The words "death rattle" came to mind and I wasn't sure whether he would see out the week. This week, he seems more alert, has been drinking a lot and has even managed some soup on a couple of occasions. Early in the week, my Mum arranged a visit from a palliative care nurse. She was going to arrange for district nurses to visit for an assessment. It is likely they will want to install a hospital bed in the house, so that when they come in and care for Dad, they won't have to bend and lift as Mum has been doing. However, we've had no contact from them so far. It's good that Mum will finally be getting (and accepting!) some assistance, but we've no idea how long that will take to set up. So in the meantime, she is relying on us.
Last Friday evening, because Dad seemed in such a bad way, I texted Big Sis to tell her and she came over. She stayed over on Friday night and on Saturday night too, as I had plans to go dancing with MiniMe and her girls. It was easier to go back to mine after the night out, so I returned here on Sunday to find that Bro-in-Law had also gone over for a visit. Bigger Sis came over in the evening and Big Sis and I stayed that night as well. On Monday, I mentioned that I might need to go home on Tuesday. Big Sis announced that she was going home on Tuesday. "Well, I can't go home as well then, as someone needs to stay here with Mum," I stated. She didn't contradict me, but said she'd return on Thursday. On Thursday evening, I had tickets to go to a gig with Lolly. I texted Big Sis on Thursday morning to ask if she was coming over. "I wasn't planning to," she replied. *sigh* I reminded her that she had mentioned she was coming back on Thursday, but in the end, I decided to go back to Mum's after the gig (which would be rather late as it was due to finish at 11pm or so). She ended up coming over this afternoon.
I'm finding it quite a strain dealing with this at the moment. She knows that Mum needs someone here, but puts herself first when she has "stuff to do". She has also been signed off work for some time, but I don't see how her situation is any different from mine and I still manage to do my bit at home. I've been putting Mum first although I could really do with some time at home myself, because she doesn't have anyone else. She's our mother and she's caring for our father. Of course I'm going to help. It means that my own life is often on hold, that I can't make progress with sorting out my things at home, because I need to be here. That I can't make a lot of the social plans I'd like to because I have to be here. That I'm not getting organised and prepared for returning to work because summoning the emotional strength would require me spending quality time on my own and that's just not feasible at the moment. Maybe I'm the sucker because I always do what's expected of me, rather than what suits me best like Big Sis does.
Going out twice this week has provided much-needed respite, but I'm always conscious that my Mum doesn't really have that luxury. I've felt more and more that it's worked out for the best that Samson and I broke up, as I've no idea how I would sustain a relationship in this situation. I feel like I'm constantly one crying session away from an emotional breakdown. I want to reach out to people, but then feel unable to really express myself and they feel helpless as there is nothing they can really do. I've been feeling incredibly lonely at times. I feel like I'm much better when in a relationship and have someone who reduces my emotional burdens just by being there, someone who I can give all my affection to and love like the stupidly big-hearted idiot I am. But the thought of opening up to someone new and revealing the damaged, fragile, crazy, intense and volatile person I have become lately is just too painful. I am stuck between wanting desperately to be loved, to be completely vulnerable and honest, and feeling embarrassed about how I am and needing to push away out of self-preservation.
I've realised that I live off other people's acceptance/love/desire/attention. When I say 'people' I think I pretty much just mean 'men'.I seem to consider relationships (in my head at least) with anyone vaguely nice who shows an interest. I remember doing this at school, even when I knew I didn't fancy the person who liked me. It was almost as though I felt I owed it to them to at least consider it, just because they were nice enough to think me desirable. I've not often stopped to think, "Is this person worthy of my attention/interest/love?" or even considered whether our values or aspirations or mindsets are the same. If they are nice and I am attracted to them, then boyfriend they are. What is wrong with me? I threw myself headlong emotionally into an impractical relationship with NY Guy that never materialised. I ended up with Samson because I knew he liked me, I found him attractive and discovered he was a pretty nice guy. I told him I was suffering from depression and taking medication for it on the first night and he didn't run away screaming, so I guess I just surmised he was a keeper. Even with The Ex I found solace in friendship with him when I became slightly isolated from my female peers. Then a kiss meant the line of friendship had been crossed and 6 years later I was fucked up emotionally beyond what I could have ever expected. Last night on my way home from the gig with Lolly, a guy started talking to me at the bus stop who was nice. It was just a nice, friendly, adult but cute conversation and reminded me that there are nice guys out there who are comfortable enough in their own skin to just have a chat without asking for your number. But today, I started trying to find him on Facebook with just a first name and an area. WHY?! I didn't even fancy him, I just found him to have an attractive personality. I think I'm a relatively good judge of character, but in a general sense. When it comes to deciding whether someone is the right person to allow an intimate place in my life and heart, my good judgement ends. I seem at least able nowadays to weed out the abusive/controlling types, but I think I get so impressed that a man manages to be half decent, that I don't set any further standards.
It's probably just as well that I am single and not in a position to practically maintain a relationship. I know my ridiculous need for affection will drive me to my downfall. I just want to be settled. MiniMe told me I should enjoy some 'me' time and make the most of being single. I would if I could, but nothing in my life is enjoyable enough at the moment. I'm not at work and even when I return, I know it won't bring me much joy because it's a job that has long lost any sense of fulfilment or satisfaction for me. Family life is good in one sense, but strained because of the fact it revolves around Dad and his illness. In some ways I feel at times that I am just waiting for him to die and the thought shames me. Alongside everything else, I am still fighting my depression and that sometimes makes it hard to enjoy anything. I try to make social plans where I can, but am often hindered by the other aspects I've just mentioned. How can I enjoy being single? Nothing else in my life is stable, the one thing I crave is a stable relationship. This week, an old school friend announced a pregnancy. I felt excitement for her, followed by a pronounced pang of what I can only describe as envy. Not because I want a baby right now, but because of the fact that she is at a point in her life that is stable and happy enough that she can have a baby. Weddings I've attended over the past few years have made me feel sad for the same reason. When will my life be at a point where things start falling into place? When will I get my happy beginning?
I can't see a start to any of these aspirations any time soon to the extent that lately I am just wanting an end to my current situation instead. Every year I hope the next will be better. So I'm just going to try to hang on for the next 2 months and pray that 2013 will finally be my year. God help me until then.
Friday Fill-In #85 & #86
And...here we go!
1. The tale is told of an old American Jewish couple who went on holiday to Israel. Tragically, while they were there, the wife passed away. The husband had to make arrangements for her body, so spoke to a local undertaker. "For us to transport your wife's body back to your home in the US, it will cost you $10,000. However, alternatively we can bury her here in Jerusalem for a cost of $1,500. The choice is up to you." The old man said, "That's quite a significant difference in price!" He thought for a while, then said to the undertaker, "I think I will have to pay the $10,000 to send her back to the US. You know, a long time ago, a man was buried in Jerusalem. After 3 days he came back to life. I'm not taking any chances."
2. The Lancashire cotton industry is something that always makes me think of my ancestors.
3. To ensure peace, prepare for war. (Is something that came up when I Googled the first part!).
4. Good manners and chivalry is a fine thing.
5. It's never too late to make a change, make things right and heal old wounds.
6. I will share with you the secrets of my heart and the turmoils of my mind by scrawling them on the back of an old receipt.
7. I was not so broken, once.
8. Night time is beautiful when the sky is clear and when the moon is full.
9. When we carry each other's burdens, we fulfil the law of Christ. (Galatians 6:2).
10. Getting snuggled up under blankets and in big jumpers and woolly socks while watching DVDs is the best!
11. Underneath it all people have more in common than they do differences. Never judge by appearances. A rich heart may be under a poor coat.
12. Oh! And thanks for remembering me, even if I was an afterthought. :s
13. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to sleep, tomorrow my plans include very little and Sunday, I want to go home so I can try to achieve something and get prepared for the week!
Friday Fill-Ins come courtesy of Janet. You can join in the fun here!
1. The tale is told of an old American Jewish couple who went on holiday to Israel. Tragically, while they were there, the wife passed away. The husband had to make arrangements for her body, so spoke to a local undertaker. "For us to transport your wife's body back to your home in the US, it will cost you $10,000. However, alternatively we can bury her here in Jerusalem for a cost of $1,500. The choice is up to you." The old man said, "That's quite a significant difference in price!" He thought for a while, then said to the undertaker, "I think I will have to pay the $10,000 to send her back to the US. You know, a long time ago, a man was buried in Jerusalem. After 3 days he came back to life. I'm not taking any chances."
2. The Lancashire cotton industry is something that always makes me think of my ancestors.
3. To ensure peace, prepare for war. (Is something that came up when I Googled the first part!).
4. Good manners and chivalry is a fine thing.
5. It's never too late to make a change, make things right and heal old wounds.
6. I will share with you the secrets of my heart and the turmoils of my mind by scrawling them on the back of an old receipt.
7. I was not so broken, once.
8. Night time is beautiful when the sky is clear and when the moon is full.
9. When we carry each other's burdens, we fulfil the law of Christ. (Galatians 6:2).
10. Getting snuggled up under blankets and in big jumpers and woolly socks while watching DVDs is the best!
11. Underneath it all people have more in common than they do differences. Never judge by appearances. A rich heart may be under a poor coat.
12. Oh! And thanks for remembering me, even if I was an afterthought. :s
13. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to sleep, tomorrow my plans include very little and Sunday, I want to go home so I can try to achieve something and get prepared for the week!
Friday Fill-Ins come courtesy of Janet. You can join in the fun here!
Friday, 12 October 2012
So Relevant Right Now
"The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Alone and/or Lonely
I came home with Big Sis on Tuesday evening, having been at my parents' since Friday afternoon. Big Bro had arrived from South Africa that morning and it had been a busy weekend of helping Mum get the house presentable in time (for a hoarder, this sort of task is never just a spot of vacuuming and dusting, it's a full-on procedure), not to mention a difficult one as Dad was not in a good way.
I felt OK when I arrived home and sat down for a cup of tea with Big Sis. Bro-in-Law arrived home about 5 minutes later and after being left alone in the living room for more than 5 minutes, I realised that they were catching up in the kitchen, not having seen each other for 3 days. It highlighted how much having someone there to hug you and tell you everything will be all right would be highly appreciated right now. I went upstairs to my room and realised I felt incredibly drained. Then I cried. I cried and cried. I texted Samson and he offered to come over the next day, if it wouldn't be weird. I thanked him for the offer, but I felt I would probably feel better by then and I didn't want to rely on him in that way in these situations. It already makes me sad that sometimes I feel like he's the only person I can text. He made me feel a bit better and I managed to calm down and go to sleep later on.
I've realised I'm feeling incredibly lonely at the moment. I feel a little neglected by some friends. I feel grateful that Samson is still a source of some emotional support, but a little resentful that he isn't in the way he used to be. I'm frustrated that a guy who I think liked me before doesn't seem so keen now I'm actually single. I'm disappointed that a guy who actually is keen, is one I don't feel a spark with, despite him being a nice guy and fun to be around. I'm upset that my life seems to be falling to pieces around me and I feel like there isn't much I can really do.
I don't mind being single in some ways. I can be single. I just never seem to stay single for very long. Maybe I get into relationships too quickly. Maybe I'm not as good at being single as I like to think. Maybe whenever I try to stay single, some love interest always appears out of the blue and I end up being seduced by that early getting-to-know-you sparks-and-butterflies phase. But I genuinely think I'm better in a relationship. I'm emotional, I'm affectionate, I'm sexual, I'm loving. I find that without having someone to express that side of myself with, I become incredibly frustrated. I become needy. I become desperate for attention and affection. And that attracts the wrong people. Maybe I'm not always that way when single. It just feels that way at the moment, because I have so much going on, that I really need someone who can kiss it all away, just for a moment. Someone who I can call at 3am because I'm upset. Someone who will come over at the drop of a hat. Someone who will lay with me and cuddle me while I cry, or be silly to make me laugh. I want a partner in crime, a person to go up against the world with, another member of Team Em. I've got a lot to give back, if only the right person could see it.
I felt OK when I arrived home and sat down for a cup of tea with Big Sis. Bro-in-Law arrived home about 5 minutes later and after being left alone in the living room for more than 5 minutes, I realised that they were catching up in the kitchen, not having seen each other for 3 days. It highlighted how much having someone there to hug you and tell you everything will be all right would be highly appreciated right now. I went upstairs to my room and realised I felt incredibly drained. Then I cried. I cried and cried. I texted Samson and he offered to come over the next day, if it wouldn't be weird. I thanked him for the offer, but I felt I would probably feel better by then and I didn't want to rely on him in that way in these situations. It already makes me sad that sometimes I feel like he's the only person I can text. He made me feel a bit better and I managed to calm down and go to sleep later on.
I've realised I'm feeling incredibly lonely at the moment. I feel a little neglected by some friends. I feel grateful that Samson is still a source of some emotional support, but a little resentful that he isn't in the way he used to be. I'm frustrated that a guy who I think liked me before doesn't seem so keen now I'm actually single. I'm disappointed that a guy who actually is keen, is one I don't feel a spark with, despite him being a nice guy and fun to be around. I'm upset that my life seems to be falling to pieces around me and I feel like there isn't much I can really do.
I don't mind being single in some ways. I can be single. I just never seem to stay single for very long. Maybe I get into relationships too quickly. Maybe I'm not as good at being single as I like to think. Maybe whenever I try to stay single, some love interest always appears out of the blue and I end up being seduced by that early getting-to-know-you sparks-and-butterflies phase. But I genuinely think I'm better in a relationship. I'm emotional, I'm affectionate, I'm sexual, I'm loving. I find that without having someone to express that side of myself with, I become incredibly frustrated. I become needy. I become desperate for attention and affection. And that attracts the wrong people. Maybe I'm not always that way when single. It just feels that way at the moment, because I have so much going on, that I really need someone who can kiss it all away, just for a moment. Someone who I can call at 3am because I'm upset. Someone who will come over at the drop of a hat. Someone who will lay with me and cuddle me while I cry, or be silly to make me laugh. I want a partner in crime, a person to go up against the world with, another member of Team Em. I've got a lot to give back, if only the right person could see it.
Monday, 8 October 2012
Witness to a Demise
My Dad is dying. Granted, we're all dying, some are just doing so faster and sooner than others. My Dad is one of those people. He's old enough to have died of old age long before now - he'll be 87 in November. He's had hip replacements and high blood pressure and even a mild heart attack last year. But he has cancer now, that started in his bladder, has spread to his lungs and his liver and possibly his lymphatic system, and is slowly ravaging his already fragile body. He undertook a course of radiotherapy earlier this year, but it still spread. He decided to forego chemotherapy, stating that he would rather "let nature take its course". That's my Dad. Ever philosophical, always realistic. Never one for huge statements of emotion, dramatic gestures or extraordinary acts of inspirational courage. Just your average, kind-hearted, calm-natured Englishman with reserved sensibilities and a northern sense of humour.
For the past year, I have watched my Dad's health steadily decline. In October 2011, he suffered the mild heart attack that put him in hospital and resulted in him being fitted with a pacemaker. He had already been advised of the likely cancerous lesions on his bladder that April, just six months before. They had been unable to operate to remove the lesions because of his high blood pressure, stating that it would need to be lower before they would risk operating. After the pacemaker was fitted, this solved the problem sufficiently enough for them to operate on his bladder during the same spell in hospital. He suffered bouts of intense pain as he passed blood clots in his urine via a catheter and also had his bladder 'washed out' by nursing staff, via the catheter. I witnessed his pain on more than one occasion and found it distressing, knowing that my Dad has never been one to complain unnecessarily with his ailments, or during his several admissions to hospital previously. To see him virtually shouting in agony was very difficult.
During this spell in hospital, he lost quite a lot of weight. Even once he was discharged and returned home, his appetite didn't return sufficiently enough for him to experience significant weight gain. His heart had been damaged and weakened and he got tired more easily, required his walking stick(s) more frequently and wasn't as steady on his feet or as strong as he was before. This was probably harder for him to come to terms with than it was for us. He would still make reference to doing certain things, such as driving, as if it as still a feasible activity for him, when we all knew that it wouldn't be safe, or perhaps even possible. He had a course of radiotherapy in March/April of this year and his appetite was further adversely affected. When Mum went to the Philippines for three weeks in June, he thought it unnecessary to have anyone stay with him, but my sisters and I took it in turns to stay over and keep him company, make sure he was OK and cook him food nonetheless. He later admitted that it was a good idea we had been there.
Over the past few months, his appetite has worsened and he has experienced sharp pains in the right side of his body - his shoulder, elbow, hip, groin and knee - that seem to come and go, alternating between the different areas, but always on the right side. I made a conscious decision a couple of months or so ago that I would go back to trying to spend as much time at my parents' house as I could. When Samson and I broke up in mid-August, there was no-one else competing for my time at weekends, so most weekends I have gone to stay with them. Aside from spending time with my Dad while he is alive and is able to appreciate/acknowledge my presence, my Mum enjoys the company. She is caring for him full-time and her life revolves around him - preparing food for his meals, assisting him with washing, dressing, getting down and up the stairs, going to the toilet, giving him his medication and so on. Everything else has taken a back seat, even non-essential housework.
It's strange how the possibility (or certainty) of losing a loved one can bring the family closer together, or push them apart. It highlights cracks in relationships, or mends them. It reveals those who truly care for you and those who are too preoccupied with their own lives to offer their support. I'm not sure what this situation has done for the relationship between me and my Mum, at least not from her point of view. I don't know if I can necessarily say it has brought us 'closer' together emotionally, as such. All I know is that I have a renewed and more profound appreciation and respect for her as my mother and as a wife, nurse, woman and human being. I've seen love in action. I've seen the stress she experiences, the relentless monotonous routine, the sacrifice of her own interests and activities for my father's sake. She does all of this without resentment, without ever calling us to complain, without self pity. Sure, she gets fed up. She expresses her frustrations to me when I am there, her desires to undertake the activities she loves and enjoys. But she just gets on with it. I am full of admiration for her and gratitude for making my Dad as comfortable as possible in the latter days of his life. I don't feel like I really do enough to help and often feel helpless. But I try my best to perk her up, to allow her to be crazy and silly so she can let off steam. I keep her company and let her do things to her schedule. I try to ask questions and understand what Dad needs, or why she makes certain decisions, or what medication she gives him and when. I observe the things she does to care for him so that I can do them too when necessary. I'm just a presence I guess, so that she isn't always alone and feels she has at least a little support. Whether it's enough, whether it helps her at all, I don't know. But when he opted out of chemo, I decided that when he dies, I did not want to be riddled with the thought that I didn't spend enough time with him. So I'm here. Even though after some weekends I get back to my own home and feel emotionally drained, I'm still here as much and as often as I can be and can cope with.
At times, I've wondered if I'm being dramatic or morbid, thinking, "my Dad is dying," or telling people the fact that he's terminally ill. But my Mum is the same. She tries to be realistic and practical and has looked at funeral homes and thought about what she will do when it happens. She wonders if people would think badly of her, as if she is willing it to happen sooner, but I know she is just being practical, as is her character. She isn't in denial and I guess I have embraced that too. My Dad is dying. Me admitting it doesn't hasten it happening, just as me not talking about it won't make it happen slower. It's the truth, a reality of my life and one that I want to accept and be able to deal with. I have started to count it a blessing that we've had so much time to prepare and get used to the idea. All my life I have been conscious that my Dad could die while I was relatively young. Potentially, he could have died before I reached adulthood. When my Mum had me, he was 56. There is 25 years' age difference between them. Growing up, people often assumed he was my grandfather. When we went out together, me, Mum, Dad, Big Sis and Bigger Sis, we used to laugh at the thought of other people trying to work out our family dynamic (there are only 9 years between Bigger Sis and my Mum). But even though I always knew that my Dad's death at a relatively early point in my life was a possibility, it's only recently that I realised I was not really prepared for it to actually happen. I don't know that you can ever be 'prepared' to lose someone you love. But knowing for sure that my Dad is dying and watching him slowly deteriorate has actually helped me start to come to terms with it. I know that I will still be devastated when it happens and I am slowly accepting that he will not walk me down the aisle when I get married, but I will not be as shocked as I might have been.
In the past two weeks, things have got worse. Because Dad was experiencing severe pain more frequently, he was prescribed painkillers administered in patch form, a small plaster that goes on his skin and slowly releases the medication over the course of a week. The first dosage they prescribed totally doped him up, he kept getting a high temperature and basically slept for most of the week, rarely leaving his bed. The reduced dose he is now taking is better, but he still gets feverish now and then, often at night. An additional side-effect is that he gets confused and seems to hallucinate. This past weekend, he talked in his sleep for most of at least 36 hours straight, making moaning and groaning noises with every breath and muttering to himself. He was talking about things that weren't actually happening, taking his clothes off, arguing with my Mum and resisting her care. It was a little bit distressing at times. But it's just how things are. It's almost like I'm starting to grieve while he's still alive, because we are losing tiny parts of who he is every day.
I love my Dad.
For the past year, I have watched my Dad's health steadily decline. In October 2011, he suffered the mild heart attack that put him in hospital and resulted in him being fitted with a pacemaker. He had already been advised of the likely cancerous lesions on his bladder that April, just six months before. They had been unable to operate to remove the lesions because of his high blood pressure, stating that it would need to be lower before they would risk operating. After the pacemaker was fitted, this solved the problem sufficiently enough for them to operate on his bladder during the same spell in hospital. He suffered bouts of intense pain as he passed blood clots in his urine via a catheter and also had his bladder 'washed out' by nursing staff, via the catheter. I witnessed his pain on more than one occasion and found it distressing, knowing that my Dad has never been one to complain unnecessarily with his ailments, or during his several admissions to hospital previously. To see him virtually shouting in agony was very difficult.
During this spell in hospital, he lost quite a lot of weight. Even once he was discharged and returned home, his appetite didn't return sufficiently enough for him to experience significant weight gain. His heart had been damaged and weakened and he got tired more easily, required his walking stick(s) more frequently and wasn't as steady on his feet or as strong as he was before. This was probably harder for him to come to terms with than it was for us. He would still make reference to doing certain things, such as driving, as if it as still a feasible activity for him, when we all knew that it wouldn't be safe, or perhaps even possible. He had a course of radiotherapy in March/April of this year and his appetite was further adversely affected. When Mum went to the Philippines for three weeks in June, he thought it unnecessary to have anyone stay with him, but my sisters and I took it in turns to stay over and keep him company, make sure he was OK and cook him food nonetheless. He later admitted that it was a good idea we had been there.
Over the past few months, his appetite has worsened and he has experienced sharp pains in the right side of his body - his shoulder, elbow, hip, groin and knee - that seem to come and go, alternating between the different areas, but always on the right side. I made a conscious decision a couple of months or so ago that I would go back to trying to spend as much time at my parents' house as I could. When Samson and I broke up in mid-August, there was no-one else competing for my time at weekends, so most weekends I have gone to stay with them. Aside from spending time with my Dad while he is alive and is able to appreciate/acknowledge my presence, my Mum enjoys the company. She is caring for him full-time and her life revolves around him - preparing food for his meals, assisting him with washing, dressing, getting down and up the stairs, going to the toilet, giving him his medication and so on. Everything else has taken a back seat, even non-essential housework.
It's strange how the possibility (or certainty) of losing a loved one can bring the family closer together, or push them apart. It highlights cracks in relationships, or mends them. It reveals those who truly care for you and those who are too preoccupied with their own lives to offer their support. I'm not sure what this situation has done for the relationship between me and my Mum, at least not from her point of view. I don't know if I can necessarily say it has brought us 'closer' together emotionally, as such. All I know is that I have a renewed and more profound appreciation and respect for her as my mother and as a wife, nurse, woman and human being. I've seen love in action. I've seen the stress she experiences, the relentless monotonous routine, the sacrifice of her own interests and activities for my father's sake. She does all of this without resentment, without ever calling us to complain, without self pity. Sure, she gets fed up. She expresses her frustrations to me when I am there, her desires to undertake the activities she loves and enjoys. But she just gets on with it. I am full of admiration for her and gratitude for making my Dad as comfortable as possible in the latter days of his life. I don't feel like I really do enough to help and often feel helpless. But I try my best to perk her up, to allow her to be crazy and silly so she can let off steam. I keep her company and let her do things to her schedule. I try to ask questions and understand what Dad needs, or why she makes certain decisions, or what medication she gives him and when. I observe the things she does to care for him so that I can do them too when necessary. I'm just a presence I guess, so that she isn't always alone and feels she has at least a little support. Whether it's enough, whether it helps her at all, I don't know. But when he opted out of chemo, I decided that when he dies, I did not want to be riddled with the thought that I didn't spend enough time with him. So I'm here. Even though after some weekends I get back to my own home and feel emotionally drained, I'm still here as much and as often as I can be and can cope with.
At times, I've wondered if I'm being dramatic or morbid, thinking, "my Dad is dying," or telling people the fact that he's terminally ill. But my Mum is the same. She tries to be realistic and practical and has looked at funeral homes and thought about what she will do when it happens. She wonders if people would think badly of her, as if she is willing it to happen sooner, but I know she is just being practical, as is her character. She isn't in denial and I guess I have embraced that too. My Dad is dying. Me admitting it doesn't hasten it happening, just as me not talking about it won't make it happen slower. It's the truth, a reality of my life and one that I want to accept and be able to deal with. I have started to count it a blessing that we've had so much time to prepare and get used to the idea. All my life I have been conscious that my Dad could die while I was relatively young. Potentially, he could have died before I reached adulthood. When my Mum had me, he was 56. There is 25 years' age difference between them. Growing up, people often assumed he was my grandfather. When we went out together, me, Mum, Dad, Big Sis and Bigger Sis, we used to laugh at the thought of other people trying to work out our family dynamic (there are only 9 years between Bigger Sis and my Mum). But even though I always knew that my Dad's death at a relatively early point in my life was a possibility, it's only recently that I realised I was not really prepared for it to actually happen. I don't know that you can ever be 'prepared' to lose someone you love. But knowing for sure that my Dad is dying and watching him slowly deteriorate has actually helped me start to come to terms with it. I know that I will still be devastated when it happens and I am slowly accepting that he will not walk me down the aisle when I get married, but I will not be as shocked as I might have been.
In the past two weeks, things have got worse. Because Dad was experiencing severe pain more frequently, he was prescribed painkillers administered in patch form, a small plaster that goes on his skin and slowly releases the medication over the course of a week. The first dosage they prescribed totally doped him up, he kept getting a high temperature and basically slept for most of the week, rarely leaving his bed. The reduced dose he is now taking is better, but he still gets feverish now and then, often at night. An additional side-effect is that he gets confused and seems to hallucinate. This past weekend, he talked in his sleep for most of at least 36 hours straight, making moaning and groaning noises with every breath and muttering to himself. He was talking about things that weren't actually happening, taking his clothes off, arguing with my Mum and resisting her care. It was a little bit distressing at times. But it's just how things are. It's almost like I'm starting to grieve while he's still alive, because we are losing tiny parts of who he is every day.
I love my Dad.
Wednesday, 19 September 2012
Island Life
I think of you out there, in the open
Unsheltered from the elements or from God's own eyes,
Searching for your life's nucleus,
While particles swirl about you, with no discernible pattern.
Selfishly I hope
That the clean air breathed into your lungs
Awakens your mind,
To sharpen your thoughts towards me.
And the sunlight that touches and warms your face,
Warms your heart
Enough for it to open.
Let the mountains cry out to you of love
As their peaks rise skyward together.
No-one should be alone.
"Go to her," the wind will whisper
As its breeze ruffles your curls and tickles your ears,
"Retrieve her and never let her go."
What do you know of love?
What can you know of sadness?
My heart has been fractured many times over,
Its scars have strengthened me.
Your perfect heart, with skin-deep bump and bruise,
Is fragile from protection.
We will never be ready.
The soil does not say to the clouds,
"Wait, wait until I am perfectly prepared to receive you,
Before you dispense your rain."
The ground will accept the sky's gifts, whatever they may be,
Whenever they are given.
Will you deny your spirit
What would nourish its life?
The ground that you make your bed
Cannot replicate my embrace,
Or transmit my warmth to your bones.
Let the drops that fall from above,
Moistening your skin,
Remind you of our tears.
As you behold the vastness of the sky
And the enormity of what lies ahead,
Think of me.
The clouds saunter by, with graceful intent
Blown about by winds, with no anchor
To secure them.
You were the roots that kept me grounded,
While you drifted as a tumbleweed,
Free of ties to hold you down
But devoid of security and shelter.
It is your choice.
No man is an island;
Let love be the bridge that joins your island with mine.
Unsheltered from the elements or from God's own eyes,
Searching for your life's nucleus,
While particles swirl about you, with no discernible pattern.
Selfishly I hope
That the clean air breathed into your lungs
Awakens your mind,
To sharpen your thoughts towards me.
And the sunlight that touches and warms your face,
Warms your heart
Enough for it to open.
Let the mountains cry out to you of love
As their peaks rise skyward together.
No-one should be alone.
"Go to her," the wind will whisper
As its breeze ruffles your curls and tickles your ears,
"Retrieve her and never let her go."
What do you know of love?
What can you know of sadness?
My heart has been fractured many times over,
Its scars have strengthened me.
Your perfect heart, with skin-deep bump and bruise,
Is fragile from protection.
We will never be ready.
The soil does not say to the clouds,
"Wait, wait until I am perfectly prepared to receive you,
Before you dispense your rain."
The ground will accept the sky's gifts, whatever they may be,
Whenever they are given.
Will you deny your spirit
What would nourish its life?
The ground that you make your bed
Cannot replicate my embrace,
Or transmit my warmth to your bones.
Let the drops that fall from above,
Moistening your skin,
Remind you of our tears.
As you behold the vastness of the sky
And the enormity of what lies ahead,
Think of me.
The clouds saunter by, with graceful intent
Blown about by winds, with no anchor
To secure them.
You were the roots that kept me grounded,
While you drifted as a tumbleweed,
Free of ties to hold you down
But devoid of security and shelter.
It is your choice.
No man is an island;
Let love be the bridge that joins your island with mine.
Saturday, 15 September 2012
Favourite Quote of the Moment
“When sadness was the sea, you were the one that taught me to swim.”
- Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You
- Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You
I would...
...make someone a kick-ass wife. What a shame that no-one will give me the opportunity to prove this.
#wastedtalents
#wastedtalents
Friday Fill-Ins #84
And...here we go!
1. Sunshine deficiency is no joke. I'm considering the possibility that I need to permanently live in a much sunnier and perhaps warmer climate.
2."She does whatever she wants, my wife," is the last thing I overheard someone [my Dad!] say.
3. I found a recipe for carrot cake with lime cream cheese icing and it really tasted good!
4. I'm looking forward to my life finally going somewhere.
5. Right now I can hear my Dad groaning in his sleep. It makes me feel sad.
6. I'm so tired, I'm having trouble thinking of anything that makes me smile!
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to going to sleep, even though I didn't get an early night as planned (I blame Tumblr), tomorrow my plans include quiet time, reading and Sunday, I want to go home, where I haven't been for more than a week!
1. Sunshine deficiency is no joke. I'm considering the possibility that I need to permanently live in a much sunnier and perhaps warmer climate.
2."She does whatever she wants, my wife," is the last thing I overheard someone [my Dad!] say.
3. I found a recipe for carrot cake with lime cream cheese icing and it really tasted good!
4. I'm looking forward to my life finally going somewhere.
5. Right now I can hear my Dad groaning in his sleep. It makes me feel sad.
6. I'm so tired, I'm having trouble thinking of anything that makes me smile!
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to going to sleep, even though I didn't get an early night as planned (I blame Tumblr), tomorrow my plans include quiet time, reading and Sunday, I want to go home, where I haven't been for more than a week!
Tuesday, 11 September 2012
Both Sides of the Coin...
Reasons to just give up and die:
- I’m in the process of being evicted from the home I’ve lived in for all but 3 years of my life. There is a very slim possibility that we will be allowed to stay. Otherwise, I have 3 weeks to pack up and leave.
- If we are evicted, I will have to move in with my parents, which will be stressful, restrictive and slightly demoralising at my age.
- My Dad has bladder cancer. He had radiotherapy in March, but it has still spread to his lungs and his liver and possibly elsewhere. He has decided to not have chemotherapy and to ‘let nature take its course’. He is nearly 87.
- I’ve been battling depression for most of the past 5 years. I have been signed off sick from work for the past 6 weeks or so and for another 2 more from today.
- My boyfriend of 2 and a half years and I broke up last month. It was sort of a mutual decision in that we want different things at the moment, and we are still friends, but losing the person who gave me the most support both emotionally and financially over the past 2 years has been so difficult.
- I would really like to be in a stable relationship in which marriage would be the next step in the not-so-distant future. I’d love to start a family within the next 5 years and being single now feels like falling back down a mountain that will take so long to climb back up
- I find my job non-stimulating, unfulfilling and frustrating. I feel lost and don’t know what to do career-wise that will pay the bills but still stimulate and challenge me, allow me to feel like I am doing something worthwhile and not be resentful of because I spend more time there than with the people I love.
- The possibility of having to move out means that I will be forced to have a cull of my belongings. Seeing as I have hoarding tendencies, this will be good for me.
- The possibility of having to live with my parents means that I will be around my Dad a lot and will also be able to help my Mum with looking after him, which will give her some assistance and the occasional much-needed break.
- I will have more motivation to make a proper effort to save up and get a place of my own.
- Being off work for a prolonged period for the second time this year has made me realise just how much I need a change in my work life. I’ve desperately wanted a career change and have been toying with going into either teaching or nursing (among other things) for the past few years. This week, I finally started my application to enrol on a Children’s Nursing degree next Autumn.
- Being single means that I can make snap decisions about my life and not have to worry about how they will affect a significant other.
- Having so many things in my life fall to pieces has meant that I’ve had to reassess things and make the decision to implement changes that have been needed for way too long. Making the necessary changes to change my life for the better will hopefully ease my depression and give me positive things to work towards and hold onto.
- Because my life is currently so full of negatives, I’ve realised how important my faith is and how much I need (and want) to develop my spiritual life and relationship with God. I’ve neglected that side of my life for too long.
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