I’m sitting here staring out of the train window into the greyness outside. It’s getting dark so early these days, a sure sign that winter is on the way.
Where has this year gone, it seems to have passed in the blink of an eye. Halloween approaches and already I have almost jumped out my skin with the cracks and bangs of nearby fireworks.
Shops have started to fill their shelves with all that glitters for Christmas. If you’re interested you’ll find that aisle right after the one with the cackling witches and bloody sculls that await to scare the bejeezus out of some poor wee trick or treater.
Right after Christmas we’ll be reminded of Easter with the timely arrival of Cadburys Creme Eggs…..in fecking January. Is it any wonder we have no idea where the 365 days in a year go.
I’ve lost count of how many times that I’ve said a year is going to be different as the stroke of midnight blended the old into the new.
2017 started with great promise, it was going to be the year I got things done. I had plans to change myself, both mentally and physically. I was going to become a better person, buoyed by the counselling sessions I had been through. But as we all know, great promises can be broken, often times unintentionally.
I would say that neither 2016 or 17 were great years in my book. I’ve been battling a bout of depression, my first bad one since around 2003. Then I managed to pull myself together without the need for anti-depressants and this time I am trying to do the same, albeit there is a much bigger hill to climb and I am not sure I can do it without some assistance.
As with everything though, there were good times as well as bad. While not cured, I have changed. My counselling has been beneficial, in fact it quite possibly saved my life. This time, despite everything, there have been no thoughts of needing to hide a stash of tablets in case things got so bad that I did not want to carry on. These days I use the coping mechanisms I have been taught and while still there and sometimes severe, bouts of anxiety do not last as long as they previously would have.
In 2017 laugher was more of a feature along with meeting new friends and continuing to value those I already have. I’m not any better at social interaction, that still needs a lot of work, but not everything can happen all at once. The point is, I am trying.
Where work was concerned I had a lot of light bulb moments. I said goodbye to one colleague and welcomed a new one, through whom I am learning to have a better understanding of myself, mainly because we are so similar. We work well as a team and we have good foundations on which we can continue to build on in 2018.
Writing has been pretty sporadic, even by my own standards. I’ve been wondering if perhaps that is why I am currently feeling the way I do. Writing is therapeutic and also quite possibly something else I need as a coping mechanism. I’m still trying to figure out where the new me fits within the blogging world as I alternate between good days and bad, sad and happy.
I’m not going to make any grand promises for 2018. What would be the point. Instead I am going to go with the flow.
If you’re reading this, thank you for doing so and also for sticking with me for another year. Your support has meant more than you could know.
Happy New Year Eejits, let’s make it a good one : )
When I write I never think, hey, someone might relate to this post and be glad they read it. Instead, I think, here’s another post that people can think to themselves ‘oh here she goes again’.
When I write, I never think that someone else might be experiencing the same feelings and take comfort from realising they are not alone. Instead, I think people will want to give me a good boot up the backside.
When I write, I never think this is actually good for me.
But. It. Is.
That’s my problem you see, I don’t write, because I worry what other people will think. I need to stop that, because this blog belongs to me and no one else.
Instead of worrying about what people are going to think of me when they read what is actually going on in my head, I should ask myself do they care enough to know everything about me and love the person I actually am, not the person they think I am.
I am many different things to many different people. Some good, some bad.
To myself I am a failure. Gotta love mental health.
I talk about things now, whereas I wouldn’t have prior to counselling. Talking is therapeutic. My talk though, is through my fingertips, because it’s still hard to do the face to face sometimes without becoming emotional.
I’m not in a good place right now, but the key to knowing how to get back on the road to recovery is recognising there is a problem in the first place. Perhaps it’s first anniversaries, or simply the time of the year. It might even be the lack of sunlight or maybe a lack of sleep, but there is something that is a little off kilter.
The good thing about the darkness though is that there is always light to balance it and that is something to reach for and look forward to, all I have to do is flick the switch.
While catching up on reading the other day I came across a lovely post from Cathi over at Dear Anonymous Friend. In it she paid a wonderful tribute to her friend who had recently passed away and recalled memories from their childhood. It started me thinking about my own.
It would be hard for the younger generation (and I’m not that old) to understand that not so long ago there was life before mobile phones and technology. As Cathi alluded to in her post, the preferred method of getting your friends to come out and play was usually either banging on their door or yelling for them at the top of your voice.
Instead of mobile phones and games consoles there were fields, trees, rivers, streams and laneways that stretched for miles into glorious countryside which we were able to weave into any fairytale we chose.
Back then my games console was a kite donated to me by my Uncle. I would spend hours dancing through fields trying to make it fly, and when successful, watching it’s 60ft tail whip and whirl in the wind. Cowpats on the soles of my shoes were a regularity, because after all, it’s hard to see the ground when your eye is on the sky.
Our local shop had a vast array of sweets hidden behind a glass counter, sticky with fingerprints from people like myself eager to choose the best options possible for inclusion in a 10p mix. For anyone who remembers such a counter, Bazooka’s, Fish & Chips, milkteeth and Dracula’s teeth were my favourites.
I went to the shop on this little red bike which had the capability to fold in half. It wasn’t anything special, but I attached an old car Ariel to the back which I then tied ribbons to the top of. I must have looked like a right eejit, but back then I thought I was the bee’s knees as I cycled to meet my friends.
Even as we got older we still made do with what we had. The beach, the place which had provided so much fun when we were younger became the place we would visit to discuss our problems. Somehow everything seemed better under the roar of the waves from the rough sea.
Life seemed a lot easier then, more carefree, and it was, because by and large we had until that point been shielded from the complexities that life had to offer.
If only we had known then what lay ahead.
There are a lot of things I don’t remember about my childhood. They are locked in my wonky top box somewhere and usually it takes a reminder from someone else to give them a jolt and bring them back to life.
Other things I remember only to well. Some I wish I could forget.
But no complaints here, it was a good life. Now I wonder where I put that kite.
Normally I am not a fan of the sunshine, but today it feels nice.
I’ve been feeling rubbish this last few days, it resulted in me being sent home sick on Friday, in fact being driven home. The whole corridor hearing me huey was definitely not a highlight of my career and not something I’d like to repeat either. Those toilets are very fecking low.
Aside from the vomiting there was this overwhelming sense of tiredness. I got into bed on Friday and slept away the whole day. Clearly I needed it, but man I was pissed, I had so many things I wanted to do at the weekend. As a consequence nothing got done, but hey shit happens, literally.
Lamenting my lost weekend I returned to work yesterday. It was fine once I got over the initial anxiety of returning.
It’s hard to believe that in just a few short weeks Summer will be over and the kids will be returning to school. It’s been so busy in work I hardly saw the time pass and virtually no days off has meant there has been very little merriment as well. Look at me pretending I’m all exciting and stuff.
I like September and getting out and about while it’s still relatively nice but the roads are perhaps not as busy. I’ll have to try and talk the Fathership into some adventures.
For now though it’s about knuckling down and getting things finished. It’s going to mean the loss of a few more weekends but it needs to be done. I can’t wait until my new work colleague is able to cover for a couple of days so I can avail of some leave, she managed great when I was sick so we’re on the right track.
I’m still thinking about the blog and what I’m going to do with it. I’ve read a few posts this week from people who have, for one reason or another, decided to call time on their blogs. I wonder sometimes if it is a stage we all go through, where what we started no longer becomes fit for purpose. I love my blog, but I’m not the same person I was 4 years ago when I began.
Each day I worry that there are not enough ideas in my wonky top box to keep me going, but somehow I still manage to make posts, so I guess that’s something right!?
Well my stop is next, unbeknownst to you, you were on my journey to work with me, that said you’ll not be reading this until my journey home, which is when I will have time to badly proof read and publish it.
I feel like I’ve been struggling a bit of late. Struggling to keep on top of my mental well-being, which in turn has resulted in an inability to write.
In the face of competing demands I just seem to shut down. I’d been trying to juggle too many things and the pressure was beginning to show. I was starting to dread going to work because I wasn’t sure I could cope with any more of the curve balls it had to throw at me.
I was worried about other things I needed to complete outside of work and how I was going to get the time to get them done.
I was tired. I am tired.
I was forgetting though that I am just one person. I can’t do everything all at once and I deserve time for myself without feeling guilty about it.
Its so easy when the pressures on to forget about the little things and the little things are actually very important.
Like the fact that I love my new work colleague, in fact all my colleagues. I love how she gets my sense of humour and work aside it’s like she’s always been there. She fits in.
I love that I feel comfortable with these people and that they can turn my frown upside down.
I love my friends, who without knowing I’m feeling the darkness give me something to brighten it, in the form of an empty gin bottle and a rechargable string of lights. Like I said, small things mean a lot.
I need to not forget these things, because they make this life what it is. It’s far from perfect, but for every low there is a high, we just need to acknowledge that.
I seem to go through little periods of thinking. I shouldn’t think, it’s bad for me.
Every now and then I will question my need for this blog or where I fit into the so called blogsphere. I don’t have a niche as such, I’m more a bits and pieces of everything.
When starting I suppose my intention was to be a humour blog, but then life changed and all the humour kinda got sucked out of it and me. I’d still like to think I am marginally funny, or at least working my way back to that point. But as a wise man once said, self praise is no recommendation.
I think I have changed since I started writing way back in 2013, I’m not sure if it is for the better. Somewhere along the line while looking for someone to adult I realised that it was actually me, I was supposed to be the adult, well that was a steep learning curve I tell ya. Someone needs to write one of those yellow books entitled ‘The Idiots Guide to Adulting’. I could certainly have made use of it.
I did grow up, I dealt with seriously injuring my leg, which led to my first ever surgery, followed by becoming a carer, followed by perhaps a little depression and a whole host of anxiety from these past events. Through counselling I realised I was an introvert and that I more than likely have mild social anxiety issues. People keep telling me I need to push through and force myself to do more, but for me that’s like standing at the edge of a boiling cauldron with everyone urging me to jump. Why can it not be enough for people that I am trying!
What does that mean for this blog, does it mean that I have outgrown it and is it time to give up and move on, or does it mean that I just let it evolve with me and see where the journey takes us both.
I want people to read what I write because they are genuinely interested in what I have to say. But I also want them to understand that I am geeky and awkward and not always sure of how to reply to the awesome comments that are left. I want to write whatever my wonky little brain desires without people worrying I am going to fall off the edge of the earth.
I’ve been enjoying doing some of the fiction challenges, they make me think, but in a good way. They challenge me to hone my writing skills and they give me something else to focus on other than the inside of this rut I seem to find myself in.
When do you realise that enough is enough? When do you realise that it is time to move on, or when do you stop building barriers for yourself and just get on with the job at hand. I tell myself that likes and follows don’t matter and I mean that, but the interaction does. I love this community and I would miss it.
So I stay, but I don’t really evolve. I wonder if six months down the line people would even remember who I was. Perhaps they would say, you must remember her, you know, the weird girl from Ireland with the ginger hair. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t find that offensive, I quite like being weird :)
Perhaps one day I will eventually figure out who I am. Then I can figure out what here is. And we can all live happily ever after.
Until then I guess I just continue to be happy, be weird and be an eejit!
I have romantic notions about how I should be living my life. Curling up in front of an open fire with my laptop after having had a shower, all calm and chilled and wasting a little time before heading to bed at 10.30pm every night meaning I am well rested for work.
Reality: Hot fecking mess, that’s what it is! and without the open fire.
I stupidly thought that perhaps life was returning to some kind of normality and that maybe I was too. You see I’m trying to get everything done, get the house sorted, get me sorted, and then life will be good right!? Wrong…it’s still a bloody disaster.
I had a couple of days off this week, another chance to de clutter and finally move from one bedroom to the other, as my current one needs redecorated thanks to the mouldy 20 odd year old wallpaper. Day one progressed not too bad, I got things done. That said every time I opened a cupboard there was just more ‘stuff’. I mean there is stuff on top of stuff, covered with stuff that’s hiding even more stuff. Trust me, it’s depressing stuff! Thanks Mothership, your legacy lives on. That said, there were tears throughout the day too as I came across a variety of photographs that brought back memories, some happy and some sad.
I ended day one feeling hopeful. Hopeful that there was one cupboard cleared, under the bed in the guest room had been de gunked and that I might finally have finished this mammoth task by 2018. In order to make that time scale however I might have to call in reinforcements in the form of the Sistership, I think this is too big a task for a one man band.
Day Two. I woke up. My head hurt. Another fecking migraine. You have got to be kidding me. I never left the sofa all day, anything I tried to eat returned with a vengeance and I didn’t even make it out to vote. Illness has followed me like a lovesick puppy since my Mum died, I have never been sick so often in my entire life. Colds, flu like symptoms, crippling migraines, has no one told my body I am supposed to be under less stress now ffs. I’m still not feeling great and that was 3 days ago.
Since the start of the year I have tried to be better to myself. Instead it’s left me feeling worse and yes before you say it I know, this is probably just a phase and things will get better. You all think my body is trying to catch up on the last four years and you’re probably right, but I am mightily sick of being sick!
I’m 65 days, 11 hours, 53 minutes and 14s smoke free as I type this. Don’t worry, I’m not that anal that I can count the days in my head, I’m not that good at maths either. I have an App for that. I’ve made changes to my diet, I keep an eye on my blood pressure and I’ve substituted crisps (I miss you so much little crisps, never forget me) for nuts, which are apparently good fats and not the bad ones. All this, and still I feel like shit. Seems kinda unfair right!? Yeah I think so too.
Sensible me knows that change doesn’t happen overnight and I have four years to make up for, so I am determined to soldier on. I need to remind myself that everything does not have to be done all at once. I need to stop beating myself up when I let other people down due to being sick, I can’t help being sick and worrying about it only increases the stress. For the last four years I lived off a schedule where everything had to be done there and then and I am finding it hard to break that habit.
Things will be done when they are done. If not today, then there is always tomorrow. I just need to drum that into my thick skull!
I had no knowledge of blue Monday until the tail end of last week, but when I heard the reasoning I could understand why it was named so. Apparently ‘blue Monday’ is meant to be the most depressing day of the year. It was, and somehow the sneaky fecker managed to weave itself into the tail end of last week and today as well. It’s legacy lives on.
I did feel blue yesterday and there were various times throughout the day when the air was blue too. I’m blaming cigarettes, or to be more precise my lack of same.
The first week and a half was challenging health ways as I battled headaches, nausea, coughing and cravings, only small ones though that tapped at my head like a lazy Woodpecker.
By the middle of the second week despite the fact that my headaches were easing slightly I soon realised the honeymoon period was over as the Woodpecker struck with jackhammer like ferocity. I imagined it to be making pencils (who the feck knows why) that I then wanted to use to stab anyone who came within a 2ft radius of me.
I had the rage and I had it bad, but thankfully I was able to contain it and make it to the end of the week without being arrested.
Then came the tears. I mean ffs there is more going on here than Bertie and his bassets, I was experiencing all sorts! The 20 million symptom checkers I consulted were not far wrong in their estimations that quitting smoking could be the cause of feeling down in dumps.
Ok so to be fair, there are other things going on here too. I’m finding work pretty stressful, the last two months seem to be catching up on me and I generally feel pretty useless. It’s a lot to be going on with and in hindsight perhaps trying to tackle everything all at once was not a great idea.
That said, the ghost of nicotine past is really playing with my emotions. There is a good chance it is also playing with my sanity too, I mean you should have seen the look I got from the girl at the train station when I asked her to blow the smoke from her cigarette in my face. Random I know, but it quelled the craving and calmed my homicidal tendencies so it was well worth it!
I shall tame this monster, we’ve been battling head on now for 18 days, 21 hours, 7 minutes and 41 seconds, not that I’m counting. It’s definitely a struggle, but I am determined to give it my best shot.
Cold turkey was always something I really looked forward to after Christmas, it’s lovely in a sandwich with a little lettuce and potato salad, now though it has new meaning. It means I have to carry on with this quest without the assistance of patches, gum or any other type of nicotine supplement. Why I hear you ask (if you’re nosey), well because I never want to go through this kind of cold turkey ever again.
2017 is the year and I’ve started step one! When I figure out what comes next I’ll let you know. I didn’t even realise until today I was on a ladder.
Wish me luck, I bloody well need it!
Please note no persons or pencils were harmed in the making of this post…well, not yet anyway!
This is my little space, this place right here. It’s been a long time since I actually looked at it on anything other than a mobile phone.
I’m sitting here tonight and Steve’s Radio show is playing in the background, the tweets are flying and my ears are being assaulted by Christmas music. It almost feels normal, even though I know deep down it’s not. The events of the last few months have taken their toll on me and I think I am only starting to realise it now.
I miss my friends here and the community and looking at my page and listening to Steve has reminded me of that, but I don’t think I am the same person that I was before and I am not sure what I am going to write here now. My counselling is teaching me that I no longer need to please others, I simply need to please myself. As a result of that do I let go and write what I want to, all those random and strange little thoughts that float around in my brain that no one else would understand….that I don’t even understand myself.
I don’t feel that giving up is an option, I like being here and if I can make just one person smile, laugh or feel something then I am content. I’ve said so many times before that nowhere else on the internet will you find such a diverse group of people who band together and stand together, helping people, sometimes without even realising it.
Someone asked me when I wrote the post about my Mum passing why I closed off the comments. I gave it some thought and explained that firstly, emotionally I was not going to be able to answer all the comments, I needed to write it and move on, and secondly, because I didn’t need people to put in writing what I knew they would be feeling.This community always has my back, have always had my back. I’ve been fixed when I was broken and been lifted when I fell. They have made me smile when I shed tears and shed tears when I was smiling. I just knew, and I didn’t know how to cope with what I knew was coming.
Things have changed. I miss my Mum and I am adjusting to life without her. It’s harder than I thought but I will get there. I am ready for life to go back to normal and for people to stop sympathising. I need space to breathe and gather my own thoughts. I need to get myself fully immersed back into work so I can go back to doing all the other little bits and pieces that need done.
New year, New me. How many times have I said that before. This time last year I was not in counselling so here’s hoping!
I have no idea what’s going to happen here, but I hope you stick around to find out. No matter what you can bet it’ll be a roller coaster, so buckle up bitches!