A Life, unsorted

 

I’m pushing forward when I feel able.  I’m pushing against a gust of wind or a steel container that is heavy, cumbersome.  Some days are easier.

I had a mis-spent youth.  It was mis-spent trying to be practically perfect in every way.  I had few friends, stunted emotional development, but bloody fantastic grades.  I’ve been trying to make up for my mis-spent youth ever since the age of 22.

When my twenties ended, amidst much hysterical life-assessment, I vowed I would try to get myself out of this hole I’m in.  This involves change.  Change is scary.  So, I vowed to start with easier tasks.

Firstly, I thought it absolutely paramount that I start smoking.

..Okay, let me put some hair on that bald statement, which, if left hanging there, looks like a bit of a lunatic scheme.  To clarify, I thought it paramount that I start doing things which I’ve not done before, through lack of opportunity or lack of the correct amount of teen rebellion.

So, I bought ten cigs from the supermarket and smoked them.  It took about three weeks to get through them, but it ticked off one of my ‘not done it before’ tasks.  I have dragged on cigarettes whilst drunk, but never ‘learnt’ to smoke.  Cue much coughing, failed lighting attempts, soggy filters and proclamations that “I’m crap at this smoking lark!”  Got the hang of it by the tenth, though.

Also, been on the date previously mentioned.  Haven’t had a boyfriend for a couple of years – I find men scary, and dates, therefore, feel like I’m voluntarily strapping myself into a chair, whilst watching a tornado heading straight in my direction, as thousands of right-minded, screaming people run in the opposite direction.  Some might think I’m a little phobic…

The date seemed to go okay and we’ve had a phone conversation since, which, again, seemed to go okay.  You can never tell though, can you?  I am sooo rubbish at just relaxing into a phone conversation without dissecting what the other person’s thinking.  No wonder I find them exhausting.  We have arranged a second date – I have thus far studiously avoided the use of the word ‘date’ in conversation/texts with this man, but that is what it is – so all I can do is try to relax about it as much as possible.

I think I need to go on loads of dates just to get this date phobia out of my system.  But I don’t know how to find lots of people willing to ask me out on dates so I can practice getting less stressed. 

Anyhoo, relationships only one side of a many-sided polygon.  I also need to address my health, my spiritual disharmony, my living arrangements, my wealth deficit and my intellectual boredom.  No small task is it.  I’ll update if anything major occurs. 

Be well xx

Diary

 

Dear Diary,

today has been odd.  Anxiety this morning because I had to phone the dentist and thought I might be called in two days early, instead of my allotted appointment (I’ll explain in another post).  I didn’t have to go in, so anxiety-moment over.

But…I hadn’t really thought past making the phonecall. 

When anxiety builds and then is suddenly over, it’s weird.  It’s like running as fast as you can and stopping suddenly.  Emergency break.  But you’re body still has momentum, even if your feet have stopped, and the only place it could move to is face-forward on the ground.

I haven’t done anything today.  The anxiety has dropped, which is great.  Its replacement has been a lack of direction for the rest of the day.  I’m bored, tense, irritated, apathetic and fine, one after the other.

I am a believer in the power of positive thinking and positive action and taking responsibility for my own life.  I say this because it’s related to the above description of my day.  I’ve not pulled my finger out to do something positive, to turn my day around.  That’s my bad.  I could have done something, pushed through the barrier.

I feel like it’s important that I acknowledge this stuff.  A behaviour on one day impacts that day and maybe then the next, and the next, and the next…

I haven’t just been reading a self-help book.  Promise.  These are my honest feelings, gleaned from past experiments, such as forcing myself out for a walk when I feel like ‘I can’t be bothered and it won’t help’, such as going out to a meditation class when I really don’t feel like it etc. 

I am not disgusted with myself for not doing anything with my day today.  I am just aware that I had a choice.  When people are in deep depressions, or deep into any illness, physical or mental, they don’t always have a choice.  For example, with my CFS, when it’s bad, I have to stay in bed sometimes.  Similarly, if I get a bad depressive attack, I don’t always have the choice to step out of it with a brisk walk, a warm bath, or whatever else is theoretically open to me.

Today, I had the choice.  I’m lucky when I can say that.  I had the choice.  And it’s on me to use any opening to make good decisions, to make my life better.  Like anyone, I fuck it up sometimes.  But I can’t allow that to be a recurring pattern, because my personal consequences (potential slide into depressions) are too devastating.

 

Paris and Snow

 

Two separate topics really.  First an update on my recent trip to Paris (I was there three nights, including New Year’s Eve).

I was stressed to hell before I went to P.  I was fretting and worrying and wobbling all over the place.  I had sort of decided that I couldn’t do much more than ride out the expanding wave of anxiety.  I came to see it as somewhat inevitable, given that it was something I’ve not been well enough to contemplate doing for months and months.

I won’t go into every detail; just a few things of importance for me.  Firstly, I survived!  Yay!  I got through it one step at a time.  I was not half as bad as I thought I’d be on the fatigue-front and I was able to take several time-outs when I needed to.  One example of this is when the rest of the group decided to visit the Moulin Rouge and I opted out because I’d had next to no sleep and felt like a bed was far more inviting than a French tourist site.  Talking of beds, though, I’m not sure I’ll ever use a hostel again.  Check it out:

I actually couldn’t sleep on that top bunk because when I climbed up there the whole edifice creaked and wobbled so much that it scared the shit out of me.  I decided pretty sharpish on the first night that I’d be hauling the mattress to the floor each night to sleep on.  That worked out better.  For my still intact limbs, anyway.

Something I noticed about anxiety whilst I was there was that everyone was anxious at some point.  With me it was mainly about packing (energy drain), being on time and not having to force myself to do too much once I was there.  I was very nervous about my CFS and handling that.  My bunk-mate was stressed about flying, not something I’m too panicky about, and other people were anxious about stuff like how we could organise taxis, not get lost and that sort of thing.

There were some nice moments, like sitting in a cafe/bar watching the world go by whilst sipping wine.  Then there were some appalling moments, like getting separated from the group on NYE with just one other girl, both of us not great at map reading and walking the streets of Paris like a couple of bedraggled strays, a Taxi or Metro out of the question after midnight. 

All in all it was good for me, it has lifted my confidence, which inevitably gets dented with lack of practice at such things as trips away.

I really wanted to see Notre Dame and I was able to do that, all be it the exterior only.  Here’s one pic I took:

Now a quick word about the SNOW.

I do think we were really lucky to travel back within days of this awful snow storm we’re having at the moment.  In the spirit of gratitude I have to be thankful that we weren’t unable to get home, nor did we suffer any major delays.  That said, I’m feeling like a caged bird today.  The snow just seems non-stop and I hate this feeling that I can’t go anywhere or do anything.  I was hoping to get to the cinema today but it would have been virtually impossible after the road and motorway closures.  I think I may be a little pre-menstrual because I don’t always feel quite so agitated by things that I can’t do anything about.  Today, though, it has been hard to stop myself from bouncing off the walls.

Anyway, I’m hoping that now Paris is under my belt and not looming like some shadowy figurine outside Notre Dame, I can move forward a little.

shopping and buying ridiculous boots

Hi.  I was going to publish a ranty post I roughly penned yesterday, regarding doctors and crappy stuff.  But, that can wait.  Here’s what I did today:

So, I have to am going to a fancy dress night for my friend’s birthday on Friday.  I’ll be staying over in a different town after having a night out there dressed as a seventies chick so…some room for discomfort presents itself.  I’m not dwelling on that just now because today has been pretty decent as my days go…

I knew I had to get ‘the outfit’ sorted out today because I’d stress if I left it any later.  I happened to have a swirly psychedelic sort of dress that I bought ages ago but never found a reason to wear – probably because in the normal scheme of things it’s fucking hideous!  For this occasion, though, it should work nicely.  Here’s a peek-

Now you might be able to see what I meant when I said I bought ridiculous boots.  It was fun shopping, especially trying on flicky charlie’s angels wigs and not being able to see through the curtains of fake brown hair bouncing around there.  My sister came to take the photos so I could make a decision what was going to look best on me, or, as may be more appropriate, least ridiculous.  I rarely do anything in the moment, fully concentrated, so just getting giddy and collapsing in heaps of giggles with sis, as we both wrestled with the rebellious farrah fawcett wig, positioning it at increasingly awkward angles, was…nice.

I was torn between those boots and some pink glitter heels.  I don’t like wearing knee highs because, in terms of what suits me, I have quite large calves, so often can’t get boots to fit and flatter.  I did get those in the end because they just are going to be better for the costume as a whole.  I reckon they’ll give a little if I wear them in round the house also so, fingers crossed, they’ll look good come the night.

Well, I am trying to be positive today and in this post.  It’s not a hundred per cent natural because I sort of feel wary of saying I feel fine and dandy and am looking forward to Friday night with no qualms.  I am looking forward to it, I just want it all to go okay with no mood dips or anything.  I know there are no guarantees for anything so I’ll try not to dwell.  Another time I’ll post my whingey post.  Today I’ll say “I had a good day” – I got stuff sorted out and found myself nicely distracted by the shopping process.

Ask me something easier

This was written yesterday.

Making A Big Deal Of Small FryMy mood is still flat today, very much so.  It makes it hard to concentrate on writing or reading, so I tend to read blogs with short posts, rather than those that require a higher time and concentration commitment.

My sister is at home today as she has a study day.  She asked me:

“Do you want to come to the gym?”

You’d think that was an easy “yes” or “no” answer.  Not if I’m depressed.  If I feel low and numb it’s a hard bloody question.  My brain wanders through dense thicket trying to find the answer, questing for clarity, but getting tied up in knots along the way.  All the while my sister looks at me expectantly…

Usually it’s not worth trying to explain why I’m being a dipstick and can’t make the *finger snap* decision.  Today I did try to explain.

“What time are you going?”  I asked, stalling, trying to give my sludgy brain more thinking time.

“Erm..One o’clock?”

She said it so nonchalantly, as if the act of going to the gym was as easy as letting those words trip off her tongue.

I knitted my brow (a purl stitch, should you be interested).  ‘Come on, Louise,’ I think to myself, ‘this isn’t that hard.  Do you want to go to the gym?’.

At some point a length of time had gone by that was, in my sister’s mind, officially enough time to come up with a response to the question.  She realised, I think, that something wasn’t quite right.

“Do you want to go?” she repeated.

This is when I attempted an explanation of my wet-clay thought processing.  “I can’t say I want to go,” I began, “because I don’t want to do anything.  But my mood is low, so it would probably be better for me to go than stay in the house.”

“Right,” she said breezily, “so do you want to go at 1 then?”

Another long silence.  One o’clock was two hours away and in that state of mind I could hardly judge what I wanted to do in the moment, let alone account for my wishes in two hours time.  This I tried to explain.

“If we go to the gym now, I might be able to go,” I said, “but I’m probably going to go downhill in mood from here on in, so if you ask me to go in two hours time you may not be able to peel me out of bed.”  (Depressed people are known for their positive outlook and cheery disposition.  We’re a delight.  Really.)

My poor sister, she has to try to wrap her head around the ridiculous workings of my depressed mind and she so often, understandably, looks blank after my attempts to ‘explain’ things.  The thing is she wants to help, which is really nice and I think she does now just take what I say as it is, without trying to wrap her head around it.  It’s best that way I think for both of us.  It is the way it is.  It’s always going to sound weird to her.

“So, we go now then?”  She looks at me: Surely she’s asked a simple enough question this time?

“Yeeeah, I guess…” I say slowly, after another too-long space of deliberation.

Here’s what it is.  I don’t WANT to do anything, I don’t have desire right now.  BUT I know that my mood is flat and low and that in these circumstances I SHOULD go to the gym if possible because a) sitting around the house or going back to bed certainly won’t improve the mood and will probably drag it down further, b) I wouldn’t be able to force myself to go on my own, so if my sister is driving it makes it easier for me to think about managing it and c) I know that although there may not be an immediate pay-off, it’s often the case that actions accrue benefits for the next day or some other future point.

The problem was that I just couldn’t know I’d be strong enough to go in an hour or two hours.  It had to be there and then or risk not at all.