Hello from the new menopausal me! Oh, such fun....not. The era of hot flushes has well and truly begun.
My body has developed a faulty thermostat, and every day - and every night - I am now getting a series of sweaty heat-spikes. My body seems to generate its own surges of heat (to begin with, until I checked with B, I just thought I had the heating in the house turned up too high)
Then, in between each spike, it goes back to normal, and I feel chilly again. Jumper off....jumper on again.....jumper off.... and so on (and same pattern at night, but with the duvet.) It's a sweaty business (need to remember to drink more water!!)
So far, fortunately, I haven't been woken up by heat-discomfort - so my night-time experience is limited to settling down to sleep, or lying in bed after I wake in the morning.
Too soon to have any idea whether this will be an interminable experience every day from here on in, or if it will have some kind of monthly pattern with normal days in between. And, in either case, impossible to guess how long the symptom might continue (that can vary a lot, so I'm reliably informed by a friend who is a medic, and whose symptoms were much worse than mine, and went on for a VERY long time - so much so, she had to seek HRT)
My symptoms are currently not bad enough to make me want to seek HRT. But we shall see (not that HRT is necessarily always an option for every woman - my friend had to wait for ages before starting - ie not allowed until she got her blood pressure down to a safe level - and it carries some cancer risks).
Sunday, 8 November 2015
Sunday, 11 October 2015
Moving On
The last blogpost included a lot of pondering about forgiveness. Circumstances have moved on. The forgiveness idea has been left far behind. It is no longer relevant - there will be no rapprochment in this situation. Indeed, if anything I am now left wondering how to forgive L for what she has just done as part of wrecking her revenge! G has accepted it, but I (personally) feel I've been made a fool of, and indeed betrayed.
The thing was, L needed access to the flat to get all her stuff. I helped to arrange for G to leave a key for her and not to be there (and I wasn't there either). For some reason, it never occurred to me, that going back into the flat, she wouldn't be able to resist taking further revenge by doing more damage and wrecking G's stuff!
It was pretty bad. Could have been worse - some things she didn't destroy that could have been really difficult (like his passport, ALevel certificates etc), but some symbolic things were torn up (the cats pedigree/birth certificates - that was pretty mean), G's college work was tossed around (not sure if any was spoilt or just made a mess of) and she did actually do some actual (criminal) damage to some of G's property. I guess the worst (in terms of costliness), was wrecking the big TV screen.
There was also broken glass from smashed candleholders all over the kitchen floor, and the electricity had been switched off at the mains, with all the food in the fridge and freezer left to spoil.
We were all pretty shocked. Initially G reacted pretty strongly, and then he insisted B&I leave cos he wanted to deal with it all on his own. In fact he was pretty horrible to us just at that point. Oddly, B hadn't been able to cope with the pain on friday and yesterday, whereas I found I couldn't cope with the anger. So it was my turn to cry.
HOWEVER, later on G texted me - both to apologise, and to assure me that the damage wasn't as bad as it had at first appeared - and we ended up having a wonderful exchange of text messages. I was so heartened and amazed at the way G had moved through both the anguish and the anger to reach an amazing positivity, a commitment to building himself up and reaching into the future to become a whole person in his own right - the best version of himself. And a determination to make the most of his opportunities, including college.
He was also amazing in his understanding of what L had done - accepting that she had needed to vent by wrecking stuff (he takes it as legitimate punishment for what he'd done), and aiming to reassure me that the flat itself (which financially B&I are responsible for as guarantors) hadn't been damaged. He even down-played the loss of the TV - saying he never needed such a big one anyway.
I know it won't be plain sailing. There will be dips and backward steps, and he won't always be able to keep the pain from crashing over him again, or the self-loathing from swallowing him up. But even I now believe the glimmer of hope (of them eventually getting back together) has now gone.
The thing is, for all that they had grown to be a better couple than they used to be, there was still a big weakness - G was always just half a person, clinging to L to complete him. He now needs to learn how to be a whole person in his own right - and then he'll be able to have a healthier relationship with someone down the line. And while he had L, he had focussed too much on just this one person, to the detriment of all his other relationships and networking (including college) - cos he thought he didn't need to bother. So now there's a chance to take something good out of this awful experience.
The thing was, L needed access to the flat to get all her stuff. I helped to arrange for G to leave a key for her and not to be there (and I wasn't there either). For some reason, it never occurred to me, that going back into the flat, she wouldn't be able to resist taking further revenge by doing more damage and wrecking G's stuff!
It was pretty bad. Could have been worse - some things she didn't destroy that could have been really difficult (like his passport, ALevel certificates etc), but some symbolic things were torn up (the cats pedigree/birth certificates - that was pretty mean), G's college work was tossed around (not sure if any was spoilt or just made a mess of) and she did actually do some actual (criminal) damage to some of G's property. I guess the worst (in terms of costliness), was wrecking the big TV screen.
There was also broken glass from smashed candleholders all over the kitchen floor, and the electricity had been switched off at the mains, with all the food in the fridge and freezer left to spoil.
We were all pretty shocked. Initially G reacted pretty strongly, and then he insisted B&I leave cos he wanted to deal with it all on his own. In fact he was pretty horrible to us just at that point. Oddly, B hadn't been able to cope with the pain on friday and yesterday, whereas I found I couldn't cope with the anger. So it was my turn to cry.
HOWEVER, later on G texted me - both to apologise, and to assure me that the damage wasn't as bad as it had at first appeared - and we ended up having a wonderful exchange of text messages. I was so heartened and amazed at the way G had moved through both the anguish and the anger to reach an amazing positivity, a commitment to building himself up and reaching into the future to become a whole person in his own right - the best version of himself. And a determination to make the most of his opportunities, including college.
He was also amazing in his understanding of what L had done - accepting that she had needed to vent by wrecking stuff (he takes it as legitimate punishment for what he'd done), and aiming to reassure me that the flat itself (which financially B&I are responsible for as guarantors) hadn't been damaged. He even down-played the loss of the TV - saying he never needed such a big one anyway.
I know it won't be plain sailing. There will be dips and backward steps, and he won't always be able to keep the pain from crashing over him again, or the self-loathing from swallowing him up. But even I now believe the glimmer of hope (of them eventually getting back together) has now gone.
The thing is, for all that they had grown to be a better couple than they used to be, there was still a big weakness - G was always just half a person, clinging to L to complete him. He now needs to learn how to be a whole person in his own right - and then he'll be able to have a healthier relationship with someone down the line. And while he had L, he had focussed too much on just this one person, to the detriment of all his other relationships and networking (including college) - cos he thought he didn't need to bother. So now there's a chance to take something good out of this awful experience.
Saturday, 10 October 2015
The fierceness of mother-love
Tough to see your adult child in the depths of emotional anguish and despair. Tough to see your husband crumple from feeling that child's pain too keenly.
Once holding up this child-in-a-man's-body, flesh of my flesh, to keep him from slipping below the waters of self-annihilation, I am robust. I know how to do this - not a rescuer as such, more a survival aid while waiting and waiting and waiting. Perhaps the tide will slowly go out, and out-of-depth will gradually become supportable, breathing on tip-toe. There is no big rescue coming - I'm just waiting with him for the cycle to turn. It's the most important thing in my whole world. This is my meaning, my purpose. It defines me.
Earlier, the panic of no-contact - the horrible imaginings threatening to overwhelm me: "what if I stay - here, at work, all normal - and all the time he's in his flat dead or dying. What if he can't bear the pain, and can't bear his own self-loathing?" That's a dark recipe I've glimpsed before and so I cannot just sit by and risk inaction. Whatever happens, I must ACT. A mother must at least try to save her son.
And yes, the imaginings were overly lurid and exaggerated - needless (you might say). But at least they shocked me into action, rather than just waiting and wondering. It was indeed the right thing to do. He needed us, although at first reluctant to accept the help and support, hiding his face - so miserably ashamed.
I have always been a critical person, a person who blames, who judges. But somehow I have learnt to contain those negative, unhelpful words. There is no point - time cannot wind back.. We are where we are.
But it was strange to find my ground shifting as I learnt the true time-line. This cataclysm prompted by a long delayed attack of guilty truth. Poor L, having this dumped on her. Poor G - tricked by the myth of honesty, shifting his sense of toxic guilt (unable to bear to carry it any longer), to his poor partner's shattering of trust, destroying her happiness, their future - everything. No way back - no forgiveness. She cannot bear this cruel truth. He should have kept it inside, and carried that as his punishment, his thorn for ever. (ironic to suggest that deception can be a gift of love, but I honestly think it can be. If you truly know it was a one-off aberration, hold that shame and guilt as your punishment and DO NOT TELL - because the pain you will cause to the other person to relieve yourself of that discomfort is uncalled for and cruel) Ah, but 'should've', 'could've' - pointless words. And I know that many would claim that what I'm advocating is a dangerous policy - ie when I suggest it's better to keep such a secret for ever. But such is my sincerely held view, despite the risk of the toxicity and the risk of eventually losing everything at some later point if the truth somehow leaks out - perhaps from another source.
(NB Point of info: I don't have a personal instance - there hasn't been some dark deed of betrayal or infidelity that I've chosen not to disclose to B.... but by the same token, I did have a couple of wobbles over the years - not acted upon as such, but still flutterings - and I definitely did NOT think that 'truth' was the be-all and end-all. I did not disclose, and I just dealt with it. And there is also stuff deep down in my past that - if I chose to let it define me. and if I chose to share it, would damage how my nearest and dearest thought of me and possibly how they felt about me. So that stuff stays well under wraps - believe me!
G still did a terrible thing - horrendous. It was 9 months ago and to me (but not to L) it somehow seems potentially forgiveable....and yet clearly it's not (not to her, not now, not yet.....probably not ever - that hankering for a glimmer of hope is a torture; but also perhaps the only thing - for now - that will persuade G to just cling on one day at a time. And in time, when that glimmer fades, perhaps he will have grown strong enough to bear it).
Foolish boy - he must have known (surely) what the truth was going to cost him? But there's that part of him that thinks she is better off without him, yet is still desperate at the thought of losing her. Then mixed with that, the naive hope that he could confess and be forgiven - mistaking a partner's love for the (mythical) divine, or just with the parental unconditional kind
(Aside: what would it take for me to stop loving either of my sons? Is there anything they could do that would stop that? We know that the relationship - the love - between children and parents (and vice versa) DOES break down. It is not immune. But as for me and mine, I cannot imagine anything - and I hope that is never put to the test)
We all talk blithely about unconditional love as a lofty thing: "no matter what you do, I will always love you". Separation of the person and the unacceptable deed comes with this idea. To love the person but hate the sin (that's the old style theology) But surely the problem is that an action is part of what defines who a person is - and (in this case) the one BIG and TERRIBLE action blanks out all and every good bit.
So, what of unforgiveable actions? End-of-all sins, with no way back? If forgiveness is ever even a prospect in such cases, that doesn't end the matter - in the sense of winding back the clock as if it never happened; but how then to cope with the scars without the bitterness and anger of being wronged continuing to poison and eat you up? Forgiveness, but still justice, still sensible self-protection by the person who has been wronged (not 'yeah, why not slap me on the other cheek too': but NB - that bible story had more subtlety buried in its often misunderstood imagery - not as wimpy as it sounds; more a cunning lure by the victim of the evil-doer to condemn themselves by taking the step that will expose them, or to realise what they've already done and repent).
Forgiveness cannot be a cheap free pass. The wrong-doer must work through and for the atonement (at-one- ment). By very definition, that is conditional, not unconditional. The more human psychology of the roman catholic habit of the confessional, and the making palpable of contrition by (for example) saying 3 Hail Marys. It seems so trite though - so easy to become a slot-machine approach. Sin, say 'sorry', get told what the price is going to be, pay the 3 'Hail Mary' coins and get your (easy) absolution. And repeat. Yuck! (and yes, I know it's not quite like that - the Priest gives the absolution but then attaches the strings - 'go and show you meant it when you said sorry by doing x y z' - otherwise (presumably - since the sincerity of the repentance is all important) the absolution becomes null and void.
And - back to the human, secular realm of wrongs and forgiveness - on the other side, the victim of any terrible act - where forgiveness is more a letting go in one's own self-interest - to avoid the ongoing pain of holding on to the anger, bitterness etc.
I suspect that mixed with the sense of betrayal, the rage, the heartbroken smashing up of everything, is pride. There would be such a sense of exposing oneself to future disrespect if this infidelity were 'got over'. I am torn here. Like women who allow themselves to be persuaded by serial domestic abusers, when they promise to reform, it can be foolish to allow someone a second chance. At some point, the line in the sand has to be absolute - otherwise another line and then another will be crossed - and then where will you be?
But. on the other hand, putting someone on 'probation' - ahort or long-term - as a conditional chance to show that this was truly a one-off aberration?... For goodness sake, these youngsters have grown and changed SO much over the last few years! Even the G of back 9 months ago isn't the same G as now. And there is so much good that could be salvaged - if only, if only, if only.....
Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the King's horses
and all the King's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.
Once holding up this child-in-a-man's-body, flesh of my flesh, to keep him from slipping below the waters of self-annihilation, I am robust. I know how to do this - not a rescuer as such, more a survival aid while waiting and waiting and waiting. Perhaps the tide will slowly go out, and out-of-depth will gradually become supportable, breathing on tip-toe. There is no big rescue coming - I'm just waiting with him for the cycle to turn. It's the most important thing in my whole world. This is my meaning, my purpose. It defines me.
Earlier, the panic of no-contact - the horrible imaginings threatening to overwhelm me: "what if I stay - here, at work, all normal - and all the time he's in his flat dead or dying. What if he can't bear the pain, and can't bear his own self-loathing?" That's a dark recipe I've glimpsed before and so I cannot just sit by and risk inaction. Whatever happens, I must ACT. A mother must at least try to save her son.
And yes, the imaginings were overly lurid and exaggerated - needless (you might say). But at least they shocked me into action, rather than just waiting and wondering. It was indeed the right thing to do. He needed us, although at first reluctant to accept the help and support, hiding his face - so miserably ashamed.
I have always been a critical person, a person who blames, who judges. But somehow I have learnt to contain those negative, unhelpful words. There is no point - time cannot wind back.. We are where we are.
But it was strange to find my ground shifting as I learnt the true time-line. This cataclysm prompted by a long delayed attack of guilty truth. Poor L, having this dumped on her. Poor G - tricked by the myth of honesty, shifting his sense of toxic guilt (unable to bear to carry it any longer), to his poor partner's shattering of trust, destroying her happiness, their future - everything. No way back - no forgiveness. She cannot bear this cruel truth. He should have kept it inside, and carried that as his punishment, his thorn for ever. (ironic to suggest that deception can be a gift of love, but I honestly think it can be. If you truly know it was a one-off aberration, hold that shame and guilt as your punishment and DO NOT TELL - because the pain you will cause to the other person to relieve yourself of that discomfort is uncalled for and cruel) Ah, but 'should've', 'could've' - pointless words. And I know that many would claim that what I'm advocating is a dangerous policy - ie when I suggest it's better to keep such a secret for ever. But such is my sincerely held view, despite the risk of the toxicity and the risk of eventually losing everything at some later point if the truth somehow leaks out - perhaps from another source.
(NB Point of info: I don't have a personal instance - there hasn't been some dark deed of betrayal or infidelity that I've chosen not to disclose to B.... but by the same token, I did have a couple of wobbles over the years - not acted upon as such, but still flutterings - and I definitely did NOT think that 'truth' was the be-all and end-all. I did not disclose, and I just dealt with it. And there is also stuff deep down in my past that - if I chose to let it define me. and if I chose to share it, would damage how my nearest and dearest thought of me and possibly how they felt about me. So that stuff stays well under wraps - believe me!
G still did a terrible thing - horrendous. It was 9 months ago and to me (but not to L) it somehow seems potentially forgiveable....and yet clearly it's not (not to her, not now, not yet.....probably not ever - that hankering for a glimmer of hope is a torture; but also perhaps the only thing - for now - that will persuade G to just cling on one day at a time. And in time, when that glimmer fades, perhaps he will have grown strong enough to bear it).
Foolish boy - he must have known (surely) what the truth was going to cost him? But there's that part of him that thinks she is better off without him, yet is still desperate at the thought of losing her. Then mixed with that, the naive hope that he could confess and be forgiven - mistaking a partner's love for the (mythical) divine, or just with the parental unconditional kind
(Aside: what would it take for me to stop loving either of my sons? Is there anything they could do that would stop that? We know that the relationship - the love - between children and parents (and vice versa) DOES break down. It is not immune. But as for me and mine, I cannot imagine anything - and I hope that is never put to the test)
We all talk blithely about unconditional love as a lofty thing: "no matter what you do, I will always love you". Separation of the person and the unacceptable deed comes with this idea. To love the person but hate the sin (that's the old style theology) But surely the problem is that an action is part of what defines who a person is - and (in this case) the one BIG and TERRIBLE action blanks out all and every good bit.
So, what of unforgiveable actions? End-of-all sins, with no way back? If forgiveness is ever even a prospect in such cases, that doesn't end the matter - in the sense of winding back the clock as if it never happened; but how then to cope with the scars without the bitterness and anger of being wronged continuing to poison and eat you up? Forgiveness, but still justice, still sensible self-protection by the person who has been wronged (not 'yeah, why not slap me on the other cheek too': but NB - that bible story had more subtlety buried in its often misunderstood imagery - not as wimpy as it sounds; more a cunning lure by the victim of the evil-doer to condemn themselves by taking the step that will expose them, or to realise what they've already done and repent).
Forgiveness cannot be a cheap free pass. The wrong-doer must work through and for the atonement (at-one- ment). By very definition, that is conditional, not unconditional. The more human psychology of the roman catholic habit of the confessional, and the making palpable of contrition by (for example) saying 3 Hail Marys. It seems so trite though - so easy to become a slot-machine approach. Sin, say 'sorry', get told what the price is going to be, pay the 3 'Hail Mary' coins and get your (easy) absolution. And repeat. Yuck! (and yes, I know it's not quite like that - the Priest gives the absolution but then attaches the strings - 'go and show you meant it when you said sorry by doing x y z' - otherwise (presumably - since the sincerity of the repentance is all important) the absolution becomes null and void.
And - back to the human, secular realm of wrongs and forgiveness - on the other side, the victim of any terrible act - where forgiveness is more a letting go in one's own self-interest - to avoid the ongoing pain of holding on to the anger, bitterness etc.
I suspect that mixed with the sense of betrayal, the rage, the heartbroken smashing up of everything, is pride. There would be such a sense of exposing oneself to future disrespect if this infidelity were 'got over'. I am torn here. Like women who allow themselves to be persuaded by serial domestic abusers, when they promise to reform, it can be foolish to allow someone a second chance. At some point, the line in the sand has to be absolute - otherwise another line and then another will be crossed - and then where will you be?
But. on the other hand, putting someone on 'probation' - ahort or long-term - as a conditional chance to show that this was truly a one-off aberration?... For goodness sake, these youngsters have grown and changed SO much over the last few years! Even the G of back 9 months ago isn't the same G as now. And there is so much good that could be salvaged - if only, if only, if only.....
Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the King's horses
and all the King's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.
Monday, 10 August 2015
Funeral
It was my friend's funeral today. Very large turn-out - so many people wanting to honour her memory. And virtually everyone fulfilled her husband's request to wear her favourite colours - purple and pink - instead of black. It was a very touching tribute, seeing that array, all variations on that colour theme.
Emotionally draining - many, many tears shed. Memories shared, affirming the love in which she was held by so many - and her loss so deeply mourned by those closest to her.
I felt awkward at times, perhaps sensing a perception that I was over-claiming some specialness(although that's probably just my paranoia). But if all I can say is that she was MY best friend (even if I wasn't hers), that's still true, and still sufficient to be special in some subjective sense, even if not objectively - and I feel her loss SO keenly, I cannot begin to get my head and heart around it.
Her family included my contribution in the service which moved me greatly (as a named part on the service sheet - which I really hadn't been expecting) and the officiant read out a much fuller version of the piece I'd written than I'd expected (I had thought they'd just lift a few short extracts). My feelings were a strange mixture - I was anxious that others close to her would resent that contribution - I even tried to sort of apologise at the reception afterwards to the person who was, I know, her closest true best friend, and had been so from early twenties to-date (she herself gave a very lovely personal tribute earlier in the service, speaking on her own behalf, which is incredibly hard to do). My relationship was so separate from hers, and indeed all the other close friends. The other OLD friend (from NI) - who also attended the funeral - perhaps wasn't given as much emphasis in what I'd written as would have been fair. But she chose not to send anything to Tim, and said several times that she didn't think any of her memories from back in our teenage years would have been appropriate or of interest to share. I was very selective myself, but I DID want to give a voice in some small way to the intense closeness we shared back then, albeit leaving out the 'boys, boys, boys' aspect.
While talking about this with my other friend earlier - and specifically that our deceased friend had not seemed to like reminiscing about those days - I realised that she perhaps had only been able to call to mind the more embarassing aspects of her younger self (indeed all our younger selves, and harshly mine in particular),and so had not been able to glimpse the sweeter side of those precious formative 10 years (from age 13 to 23 or so). The anecdote that pained me pains me still, but I think I've gained an acceptance now - I can let it go. That's been part of the emotional journey of today - saying farewell and letting go.
Still feel very sorry for myself though. Lots of work still to do. Might need to think about accessing some proper counselling I think. Not for the bereavement per se, but it has brought other stuff that was already troubling me more into focus.
Emotionally draining - many, many tears shed. Memories shared, affirming the love in which she was held by so many - and her loss so deeply mourned by those closest to her.
I felt awkward at times, perhaps sensing a perception that I was over-claiming some specialness(although that's probably just my paranoia). But if all I can say is that she was MY best friend (even if I wasn't hers), that's still true, and still sufficient to be special in some subjective sense, even if not objectively - and I feel her loss SO keenly, I cannot begin to get my head and heart around it.
Her family included my contribution in the service which moved me greatly (as a named part on the service sheet - which I really hadn't been expecting) and the officiant read out a much fuller version of the piece I'd written than I'd expected (I had thought they'd just lift a few short extracts). My feelings were a strange mixture - I was anxious that others close to her would resent that contribution - I even tried to sort of apologise at the reception afterwards to the person who was, I know, her closest true best friend, and had been so from early twenties to-date (she herself gave a very lovely personal tribute earlier in the service, speaking on her own behalf, which is incredibly hard to do). My relationship was so separate from hers, and indeed all the other close friends. The other OLD friend (from NI) - who also attended the funeral - perhaps wasn't given as much emphasis in what I'd written as would have been fair. But she chose not to send anything to Tim, and said several times that she didn't think any of her memories from back in our teenage years would have been appropriate or of interest to share. I was very selective myself, but I DID want to give a voice in some small way to the intense closeness we shared back then, albeit leaving out the 'boys, boys, boys' aspect.
While talking about this with my other friend earlier - and specifically that our deceased friend had not seemed to like reminiscing about those days - I realised that she perhaps had only been able to call to mind the more embarassing aspects of her younger self (indeed all our younger selves, and harshly mine in particular),and so had not been able to glimpse the sweeter side of those precious formative 10 years (from age 13 to 23 or so). The anecdote that pained me pains me still, but I think I've gained an acceptance now - I can let it go. That's been part of the emotional journey of today - saying farewell and letting go.
Still feel very sorry for myself though. Lots of work still to do. Might need to think about accessing some proper counselling I think. Not for the bereavement per se, but it has brought other stuff that was already troubling me more into focus.
Monday, 27 July 2015
She died today.
Today my oldest friend died. We'd been friends since the age of 14 - that's 38 years of being friends! I got the phonecall from her husband this morning - she died shortly after midnight on Monday 27th July. Wasn't expecting it, even though I should have known that this time, there wasn't going to be another beating of the odds. But she bamboozled me again, when I saw her a week ago - perhaps I was too willing to let her hopefulness convince me. The final (belated birthday) Kindle gift token I sent her will be unclaimed, unless her husband or son can (in due course, when not too crass to mention) find it possible to take it up. The last (funtional) text message I sent her - about that kindle token- did she even see that?
There was no sense of final goodbye - either in person or by text - and I don't mind that; can't imagine how hard it would be if you were doing that. Perhaps that was one of her gifts - sparing her friends and herself that emotional pain. She was usually very kind to me, very nurturing (slightly maternal - that was the dynamic between us, with her in the more dominant role.) She only hurt me deeply that one (double) time, in recent years, and I didn't ever tell her (and my not telling her was definitely linked to knowing her life-span wasn't going to be a full one - otherwise perhaps I would have tackled it) It did, however, also block off the pleasure of shared reminiscing, cos I couldn't risk something similar happening again. So our friendship was stranded in the continuous present, the roots giving it a particular (mature) shape, but hidden from view.
Not sure if I ever told her I loved her - there really wasn't any need. She knew how I felt about her, and I know how she felt about me. We just had that depth.
She was no saint ofcourse, and I always said that we were an odd combination - we probably wouldn't have become friends if we'd met in adult-hood; and even as teenagers we got irritated with each other at times (but there's lots of evidence of how deep our friendship was too). I was an oddly infantilised version of myself any time we met up. The deep roots of our friendship gave us a certain non-judgemental acceptance of each other, but the closeness wasn't as close as back in our Belfast and university days - we were oldest friends, not best friends in the more recent passing years perhaps. And while striving for normality, the cancer did lead us to some self-censorship, some shaping to suit the shortened and oh so finite time-frame.
She was my chief bridesmaid and (a few years later) I was her matron of honour, so the closeness was significant and recognised back then - but in the 20 or so years since then it was something else, albeit still important and special (not sure I have a best friend at all actually, except for hubby - and that's not quite the same.) But still - she was unique, and she held (and will always hold) a special place in my life and heart. I will miss her hugely - she is irreplaceable. I know I won't stay in touch with her husband or son very much (I may try to keep sending Christmas and birthday cards and gifts until her son is grown up, but that's about it probably) - Her more immediate, real CLOSEST friends from her current life will be more significant; I had to accept that my status and role was quite different from that.
I was a little envious of how many friendships she sustained - how many group outings and shared joint or multi-family holidays etc. Even though I realise some of it was heightened once she knew the cancer had come back, with a bit of bucket list seizing of the day, going to big conerts etc. I sometimes struggled with knowing I wasn't as important as these other people to her (perhaps that's putting it unfairly - I know I was important to her, but in a separate niche, and we both found the frequency of our visits to see each other about right).
I don't seem to be able to make or sustain or keep friendships going - I'm not good at 'friends'. Have had some low points at work about this very thing - knowing I'm not really liked generally, and not liking myself either - but not knowing how to modify myself to improve things. So I guess this loss feels even worse, cos that was someone who just accepted me completely (well, almost - all but a bit of my past that she felt the need to judge very harshly for some reason).
Yep, isn't that terrible - a blog post that's supposed to be about my friend is soon over-run with 'me me me'! But grief is like that - you can't help focussing on how you yourself are feeling about the loss. And I'm feeling it much worse than I had thought I would, particularly as it wasn't totally out of the blue, so in theory I'd been emotionally rehearsing for this moment
Today when I accessed one of my savings accounts, I had to enter the name of my best friend at school, and it made me flinch slightly - but I will honour her every time as I continue to use that.
I spent a long time looking for my first diary which mentions me first admiring her beautiful hair at school when we were 14. Still haven't been able to find it - where on earth have I put it??? I had it not that long ago, so it can't be buried too deep. However, I did find lots of letters in her handwriting - we were prolific correspondents when she was away during her first year at University (my 'gap' year) and I have some from years after that as well) .
I also found a bizarre little quotation in her handwriting - the one and only thing written by her in any of those particular diaries and signed with the nickname she stopped using many years ago. It's dated 13/1/79, so we were 15 years old - nearly 16 - then. It says:
You are a free person.
I am glad that in your freedom
you have chosen me to be your friend.
C- - - - -
Now that really was pretty special to find today of all days!
There was no sense of final goodbye - either in person or by text - and I don't mind that; can't imagine how hard it would be if you were doing that. Perhaps that was one of her gifts - sparing her friends and herself that emotional pain. She was usually very kind to me, very nurturing (slightly maternal - that was the dynamic between us, with her in the more dominant role.) She only hurt me deeply that one (double) time, in recent years, and I didn't ever tell her (and my not telling her was definitely linked to knowing her life-span wasn't going to be a full one - otherwise perhaps I would have tackled it) It did, however, also block off the pleasure of shared reminiscing, cos I couldn't risk something similar happening again. So our friendship was stranded in the continuous present, the roots giving it a particular (mature) shape, but hidden from view.
Not sure if I ever told her I loved her - there really wasn't any need. She knew how I felt about her, and I know how she felt about me. We just had that depth.
She was no saint ofcourse, and I always said that we were an odd combination - we probably wouldn't have become friends if we'd met in adult-hood; and even as teenagers we got irritated with each other at times (but there's lots of evidence of how deep our friendship was too). I was an oddly infantilised version of myself any time we met up. The deep roots of our friendship gave us a certain non-judgemental acceptance of each other, but the closeness wasn't as close as back in our Belfast and university days - we were oldest friends, not best friends in the more recent passing years perhaps. And while striving for normality, the cancer did lead us to some self-censorship, some shaping to suit the shortened and oh so finite time-frame.
She was my chief bridesmaid and (a few years later) I was her matron of honour, so the closeness was significant and recognised back then - but in the 20 or so years since then it was something else, albeit still important and special (not sure I have a best friend at all actually, except for hubby - and that's not quite the same.) But still - she was unique, and she held (and will always hold) a special place in my life and heart. I will miss her hugely - she is irreplaceable. I know I won't stay in touch with her husband or son very much (I may try to keep sending Christmas and birthday cards and gifts until her son is grown up, but that's about it probably) - Her more immediate, real CLOSEST friends from her current life will be more significant; I had to accept that my status and role was quite different from that.
I was a little envious of how many friendships she sustained - how many group outings and shared joint or multi-family holidays etc. Even though I realise some of it was heightened once she knew the cancer had come back, with a bit of bucket list seizing of the day, going to big conerts etc. I sometimes struggled with knowing I wasn't as important as these other people to her (perhaps that's putting it unfairly - I know I was important to her, but in a separate niche, and we both found the frequency of our visits to see each other about right).
I don't seem to be able to make or sustain or keep friendships going - I'm not good at 'friends'. Have had some low points at work about this very thing - knowing I'm not really liked generally, and not liking myself either - but not knowing how to modify myself to improve things. So I guess this loss feels even worse, cos that was someone who just accepted me completely (well, almost - all but a bit of my past that she felt the need to judge very harshly for some reason).
Yep, isn't that terrible - a blog post that's supposed to be about my friend is soon over-run with 'me me me'! But grief is like that - you can't help focussing on how you yourself are feeling about the loss. And I'm feeling it much worse than I had thought I would, particularly as it wasn't totally out of the blue, so in theory I'd been emotionally rehearsing for this moment
Today when I accessed one of my savings accounts, I had to enter the name of my best friend at school, and it made me flinch slightly - but I will honour her every time as I continue to use that.
I spent a long time looking for my first diary which mentions me first admiring her beautiful hair at school when we were 14. Still haven't been able to find it - where on earth have I put it??? I had it not that long ago, so it can't be buried too deep. However, I did find lots of letters in her handwriting - we were prolific correspondents when she was away during her first year at University (my 'gap' year) and I have some from years after that as well) .
I also found a bizarre little quotation in her handwriting - the one and only thing written by her in any of those particular diaries and signed with the nickname she stopped using many years ago. It's dated 13/1/79, so we were 15 years old - nearly 16 - then. It says:
You are a free person.
I am glad that in your freedom
you have chosen me to be your friend.
C- - - - -
Now that really was pretty special to find today of all days!
Saturday, 7 February 2015
Two years - a quick gallop!
I am flabbergasted! I had no idea it was nearly two years since I last posted a blog here! Where did the time go? I suppose this blog had stopped having much of a purpose to be honest. And I'm not sure whether to keep it going or dump it or what. I'm caught between wanting an anonymous outlet and finding it restrictive to keep from mentioning identifying information. And if it's just a diary for me, why bother posting online at all?! I have Evernote and GoogleDrive, and such like, to keep online journals.
It's 7th February 2015. My birthday week (not a special one - that was 2 years ago!)
Not sure whether to even attempt to sum up the last two years - it all merges into a bit of a blur. Some things haven't changed at all - I still work in a school as a teaching assistant, and I still volunteer as a Beaver Scout Leader. Still live in the same house.
One of the biggest changes is that my husband took early retirement (aged just 55) in January 2013 - so the whole of the last 2 years has been the first part of that new phase.
It has been a very positive change - he is much MUCH happier, and we've made it work financially, despite my initially concerns. We enjoy having more time together - in fact most days, when I get home from work at lunch time, we can sit and have a chat. Not that my husband is idle - far from it! He's such a self-starter that he has no trouble staying productive in many different ways!
In February 2013 it was my 50th birthday, so that Easter (early April) we had a fabulously special holiday in Florence!! It had always been a dream of mine to go to Florence some day, and it really did live up to my expectations. We had a wonderful time! And a special coach trip (full day) was a good way to get to see Siena and Piza and more besides!
Birthday photos for actual day in Feb - locks on the wobbly bridge and a meal at the British Museum with B. A few days later (and I'd forgotten this!) W treated me to a cinema trip to the posh Vue Scene at Westfields to see Les Miserables. I cried 4 times, apparently (Facebook status).
February half-term - trip to Dublin AND Belfast, experimenting with cheapest tickets (brief stay with N&J solo, then a few hours looking around Dublin, then bus to Belfast - and flew home from there)
Early March 2013 - I dressed up as Mr Wrong for Book Day at school!
March 2013 - visit to NH Cambridge (was this on the way back from the Spa week-end? I know I was on my own, but not sure of the circumstances)
March 2013 - Spa Week-end with 2 oldest friends, C & D
April 2013 - B and I did a Treasure Trail up in London
Early May - Bank Holiday trip to St Albans
In Spring 2013, (3rd June in fact) we bought a small flat in Bermondsey with my husband's lump sum(s). It was an really good investment (although we have still to sort out the purchase of the lease extension, as that went slightly wrong at the time - but no biggy; we will be able to do it this coming spring, albeit it will probably cost more!)
Our eldest son - and during her brief spells in the UK, his fiancee - started living there as soon as we got the keys, in spring 2013. They cover all the various bills (council tax, utilities, service charges) but don't pay us any rent.
So for the rest of 2013, and the first half of 2014, our son was living there mostly on his own, working long hours every week to earn enough to meet the financial requirements of the visa his fiancee would later need to gain access to the country for their wedding in August 2014. Meanwhile his fiancee was mainly in Germany (on a scholarship work experience posting).
June 2013 - the Garden barges - a lovely outing with W& J
Late July 2013 - went to see Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night (with W&J) Right up in the Gods... the cheap seats (subsequently closed when part of the ceiling fell down in that theatre!)
Early August - trip to Northern Ireland (need to check further details)
Summer holiday 2013 was a cottage next to a Windmill in Norfolk. Lovely place - and we had a very enjoyable week, including a boat trip to see the seals. Another highlight was Norwich cathedral, and the wonderful medieval streets near it; and a boat trip on the Norfolk Broads (well I enjoyed it - B less so). Kept a journal - held on Evernote.
Summer 2013 - also met Js' mother, sister & 1 brother on their trip to London (had meal with us here but didn't stay with us) Also trip to Winnie the Pooh bridge with W&J plus A (sis).
(Late?) August - Went to see Midnight performance of Tempest at Globe (on my own cos J was poorly.) It was wonderful!
Late Aug - visit to neice & great-nephew with J (Mary Arden's farm)
Visit to Harry Potter studios was for Wedding Anniversary 2013! Wonderful!!
Visit to Bletchley Park was in Autumn 2013 (but when did we go to the Churchill WarRooms??)
Christmas 2013 - the Christmas of the Dressing Gowns (my parents with us for that Christmas) Also loved my present from W & G of recreated poses for 'then and now' photos. Very funny, and very cute!
Feb 2014 - birthday Brunch with the youngsters at Pizza Organic. Then later matinee at candlelit Sam Wannemaker theatre with husband
(Given trip to top of Shard as gift by L (and G?) = AMAZING!!!
(The night before Shard trip was Panto I was in, with post-show booze up......got really, really REALLY wasted!! And walked home on my own at stupid-o'clock!)
Feb half-term 2014 Trip to Bury St Edmunds, and Ely: (22nd Feb - from Facebook) 'Just back from an excellent mini-trip with B - and dog (set off yesterday morning, back this evening)! We visited Ely for the first time - and also managed a quick look at Bury St Edmunds before we headed home this afternoon. Beautiful weather, lots of fascinating history and architecture, long walks with the dog, good food and a very nice overnight stay at the Red Lion in Stretham. The highlight (while Cadi had a snooze in the car) was getting to climb up Ely Cathedral's medieval Octagon Tower - this even included clambering around its supporting timbers, up among the angels. The central octagonal lantern (clad in lead and weighing something like 400 tons) hangs in the centre - as if floating in space, all its weight thrust out and down, taken by the massive diagonal 'spokes' of oak, set into the surrounding stone pillars. Out on the roof - above the supports - we could see as far as Cambridge, right on the horizon, particularly the distinctive shape of the University Library. Over the course of the whole trip we (mainly Bob) took over 250 photos!!'
March 2014 - did Beaver Sleepover at Chalfont (again!)
March Went for lunch (unsuccessfully) and show with EW and lots of others.
Easter 2014 - April 2014 trip to Selsey (including East Head at West Whittering) Also Roman villa at Fishbourne.
18th May - Beaver Bonanza (Pirate theme)
Went to see both Wolf Hall play - with B. First one was in late May 2014
24th May - Murder in the Cathedral
25 May - Calvary at Electric Cinema
End of May 2014 - Portsmouth Historic Docks & the Mary Rose (day trip)
(Late May - hunting for outfit for Wedding, and arranging for wedding dress cleaning)
6th June - gas emergency, with big holes & engineers around all night!
June 2014 - 5:2 diet (again!)
11th June - Bring Up the Bodies (2nd play, Wolf Hall was 1st)
Summer 2014 - A V SHORT PRE-WEDDING HOLIDAY (as soon as term broke up) - Dorset: stayed in Hotel inland for a couple of nights first, then room at an Inn nearer the coast. VERY HOT SUNNY WEATHER! Lots of swims in the sea!! Found lots of beaches never found before!
8th Aug - went to Guardians of the Galaxy with just Wynn
12th Aug - Richard III (but with understudy rather than Martin Freeman, unfortunately - but still v g)
15th Aug - the desperate measures (inc driving up to Sheffield) - to get the visa processed in time
August - G&L moved into their rented flat (not long before W&J's wedding)
THE WEDDING ITSELF!! (with a bit of drama immediately beforehand!)
Day itself was magical and wonderful - but just a tiny sting in the tail at the very end, for B (which had lasting after-effects)
Trip to Langrish House (after guests left - a week after wedding)
Early Sept 2014 - our 25th Wedding Anniversary. On actual day, nice meal out at favourite restaurant.
14th (ish) really really horrible cold - a lurgy that just went on and on and on and on!
(bought a new washing machine....had a bit of bother but eventually got it installed so we could use it!)
20th Sept - George Inn meal then Julius Caesar at Globe with EW
23rd - Ani Di Franco at Union Chapel with V & chums
27th Sept - Beaver Hike at Ruislip Lido
Also the King Charles III (4th Oct) - with B
11th Oct - big get-together for my mother's 80th. ALL the young ones from both families! (B got a bit stressed)
October 2014 - Day Trip to Blenheim Palace - Ai Weiwei exhibition included with B
Oct 2014 - Quiz Supper with A&I (& we won!!)
Gone Girl film with B
Teh Internet with EW (was vg)
Oct Half Term 2014 - Bruges trip!!!!
8th Nov - Mr Turner film with B
9th Nov - remembrance day parade. Then Tower of London poppies (shadow photo my v best shot!) and then to the Burg for meal with W&J
11th Nov - New Boiler!! Hot water on demand.... (Works well, but hard to get upstairs rooms warm enough - ever!)
15th Nov - Went to see Imitation Game film with B
24th Nov SIGNING EVENT WITH CARY ELWES at Picadilly Waterstones - WONDERFUL!!! (cryptic posting on FB to keep the secret)
DECEMBER
Beaver & Cub Xmas Show - 12th Dec
14th - Panto outing to Hammersmith Lyric with Beavers & Cubs (Dick Whittington)
19th - Carol Concert at Bloomsbury Baptist Church (to see J)
Christmas - W&J (from Xmas Eve, & J&I went to midnight mass), plus G (fetched along with kittens Xmas morning; gave L lift to her mother's place; she then got taxi to ours that evening) B did traditional meal, albeit with no full bird.
28th - visit to Burg, with walk to Burgess Park & beautiful sunset!
My parents came for New Year. Visit to G&L's flat - with meal cooked & taken with us by B. Then everyone together for big meal on 31st. Big Jigsaw of London - given by G - completed in time for NYE - but with one missing piece (never turned up sadly!)
2015
January
B's birthday - all met for lunch up in London (unfortunate theft - poor G!)
Trip to Cardiff for P's birthday
End of Jan - Trip to Hunston for W/e (immediately before my birthday)
February
Birthday - out with B: Museum of London (lunch then Sherlock exhib) Evening - round to G&L for take-away
It's 7th February 2015. My birthday week (not a special one - that was 2 years ago!)
Not sure whether to even attempt to sum up the last two years - it all merges into a bit of a blur. Some things haven't changed at all - I still work in a school as a teaching assistant, and I still volunteer as a Beaver Scout Leader. Still live in the same house.
One of the biggest changes is that my husband took early retirement (aged just 55) in January 2013 - so the whole of the last 2 years has been the first part of that new phase.
It has been a very positive change - he is much MUCH happier, and we've made it work financially, despite my initially concerns. We enjoy having more time together - in fact most days, when I get home from work at lunch time, we can sit and have a chat. Not that my husband is idle - far from it! He's such a self-starter that he has no trouble staying productive in many different ways!
In February 2013 it was my 50th birthday, so that Easter (early April) we had a fabulously special holiday in Florence!! It had always been a dream of mine to go to Florence some day, and it really did live up to my expectations. We had a wonderful time! And a special coach trip (full day) was a good way to get to see Siena and Piza and more besides!
Birthday photos for actual day in Feb - locks on the wobbly bridge and a meal at the British Museum with B. A few days later (and I'd forgotten this!) W treated me to a cinema trip to the posh Vue Scene at Westfields to see Les Miserables. I cried 4 times, apparently (Facebook status).
February half-term - trip to Dublin AND Belfast, experimenting with cheapest tickets (brief stay with N&J solo, then a few hours looking around Dublin, then bus to Belfast - and flew home from there)
Early March 2013 - I dressed up as Mr Wrong for Book Day at school!
March 2013 - visit to NH Cambridge (was this on the way back from the Spa week-end? I know I was on my own, but not sure of the circumstances)
March 2013 - Spa Week-end with 2 oldest friends, C & D
April 2013 - B and I did a Treasure Trail up in London
Early May - Bank Holiday trip to St Albans
In Spring 2013, (3rd June in fact) we bought a small flat in Bermondsey with my husband's lump sum(s). It was an really good investment (although we have still to sort out the purchase of the lease extension, as that went slightly wrong at the time - but no biggy; we will be able to do it this coming spring, albeit it will probably cost more!)
Our eldest son - and during her brief spells in the UK, his fiancee - started living there as soon as we got the keys, in spring 2013. They cover all the various bills (council tax, utilities, service charges) but don't pay us any rent.
So for the rest of 2013, and the first half of 2014, our son was living there mostly on his own, working long hours every week to earn enough to meet the financial requirements of the visa his fiancee would later need to gain access to the country for their wedding in August 2014. Meanwhile his fiancee was mainly in Germany (on a scholarship work experience posting).
June 2013 - the Garden barges - a lovely outing with W& J
Late July 2013 - went to see Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night (with W&J) Right up in the Gods... the cheap seats (subsequently closed when part of the ceiling fell down in that theatre!)
Early August - trip to Northern Ireland (need to check further details)
Summer holiday 2013 was a cottage next to a Windmill in Norfolk. Lovely place - and we had a very enjoyable week, including a boat trip to see the seals. Another highlight was Norwich cathedral, and the wonderful medieval streets near it; and a boat trip on the Norfolk Broads (well I enjoyed it - B less so). Kept a journal - held on Evernote.
Summer 2013 - also met Js' mother, sister & 1 brother on their trip to London (had meal with us here but didn't stay with us) Also trip to Winnie the Pooh bridge with W&J plus A (sis).
(Late?) August - Went to see Midnight performance of Tempest at Globe (on my own cos J was poorly.) It was wonderful!
Late Aug - visit to neice & great-nephew with J (Mary Arden's farm)
Visit to Harry Potter studios was for Wedding Anniversary 2013! Wonderful!!
Visit to Bletchley Park was in Autumn 2013 (but when did we go to the Churchill WarRooms??)
Christmas 2013 - the Christmas of the Dressing Gowns (my parents with us for that Christmas) Also loved my present from W & G of recreated poses for 'then and now' photos. Very funny, and very cute!
Feb 2014 - birthday Brunch with the youngsters at Pizza Organic. Then later matinee at candlelit Sam Wannemaker theatre with husband
(Given trip to top of Shard as gift by L (and G?) = AMAZING!!!
(The night before Shard trip was Panto I was in, with post-show booze up......got really, really REALLY wasted!! And walked home on my own at stupid-o'clock!)
Feb half-term 2014 Trip to Bury St Edmunds, and Ely: (22nd Feb - from Facebook) 'Just back from an excellent mini-trip with B - and dog (set off yesterday morning, back this evening)! We visited Ely for the first time - and also managed a quick look at Bury St Edmunds before we headed home this afternoon. Beautiful weather, lots of fascinating history and architecture, long walks with the dog, good food and a very nice overnight stay at the Red Lion in Stretham. The highlight (while Cadi had a snooze in the car) was getting to climb up Ely Cathedral's medieval Octagon Tower - this even included clambering around its supporting timbers, up among the angels. The central octagonal lantern (clad in lead and weighing something like 400 tons) hangs in the centre - as if floating in space, all its weight thrust out and down, taken by the massive diagonal 'spokes' of oak, set into the surrounding stone pillars. Out on the roof - above the supports - we could see as far as Cambridge, right on the horizon, particularly the distinctive shape of the University Library. Over the course of the whole trip we (mainly Bob) took over 250 photos!!'
March 2014 - did Beaver Sleepover at Chalfont (again!)
March Went for lunch (unsuccessfully) and show with EW and lots of others.
Easter 2014 - April 2014 trip to Selsey (including East Head at West Whittering) Also Roman villa at Fishbourne.
18th May - Beaver Bonanza (Pirate theme)
Went to see both Wolf Hall play - with B. First one was in late May 2014
24th May - Murder in the Cathedral
25 May - Calvary at Electric Cinema
End of May 2014 - Portsmouth Historic Docks & the Mary Rose (day trip)
(Late May - hunting for outfit for Wedding, and arranging for wedding dress cleaning)
6th June - gas emergency, with big holes & engineers around all night!
June 2014 - 5:2 diet (again!)
11th June - Bring Up the Bodies (2nd play, Wolf Hall was 1st)
Summer 2014 - A V SHORT PRE-WEDDING HOLIDAY (as soon as term broke up) - Dorset: stayed in Hotel inland for a couple of nights first, then room at an Inn nearer the coast. VERY HOT SUNNY WEATHER! Lots of swims in the sea!! Found lots of beaches never found before!
8th Aug - went to Guardians of the Galaxy with just Wynn
12th Aug - Richard III (but with understudy rather than Martin Freeman, unfortunately - but still v g)
15th Aug - the desperate measures (inc driving up to Sheffield) - to get the visa processed in time
August - G&L moved into their rented flat (not long before W&J's wedding)
THE WEDDING ITSELF!! (with a bit of drama immediately beforehand!)
Day itself was magical and wonderful - but just a tiny sting in the tail at the very end, for B (which had lasting after-effects)
Trip to Langrish House (after guests left - a week after wedding)
Early Sept 2014 - our 25th Wedding Anniversary. On actual day, nice meal out at favourite restaurant.
14th (ish) really really horrible cold - a lurgy that just went on and on and on and on!
(bought a new washing machine....had a bit of bother but eventually got it installed so we could use it!)
20th Sept - George Inn meal then Julius Caesar at Globe with EW
23rd - Ani Di Franco at Union Chapel with V & chums
27th Sept - Beaver Hike at Ruislip Lido
Also the King Charles III (4th Oct) - with B
11th Oct - big get-together for my mother's 80th. ALL the young ones from both families! (B got a bit stressed)
October 2014 - Day Trip to Blenheim Palace - Ai Weiwei exhibition included with B
Oct 2014 - Quiz Supper with A&I (& we won!!)
Gone Girl film with B
Teh Internet with EW (was vg)
Oct Half Term 2014 - Bruges trip!!!!
8th Nov - Mr Turner film with B
9th Nov - remembrance day parade. Then Tower of London poppies (shadow photo my v best shot!) and then to the Burg for meal with W&J
11th Nov - New Boiler!! Hot water on demand.... (Works well, but hard to get upstairs rooms warm enough - ever!)
15th Nov - Went to see Imitation Game film with B
24th Nov SIGNING EVENT WITH CARY ELWES at Picadilly Waterstones - WONDERFUL!!! (cryptic posting on FB to keep the secret)
DECEMBER
Beaver & Cub Xmas Show - 12th Dec
14th - Panto outing to Hammersmith Lyric with Beavers & Cubs (Dick Whittington)
19th - Carol Concert at Bloomsbury Baptist Church (to see J)
Christmas - W&J (from Xmas Eve, & J&I went to midnight mass), plus G (fetched along with kittens Xmas morning; gave L lift to her mother's place; she then got taxi to ours that evening) B did traditional meal, albeit with no full bird.
28th - visit to Burg, with walk to Burgess Park & beautiful sunset!
My parents came for New Year. Visit to G&L's flat - with meal cooked & taken with us by B. Then everyone together for big meal on 31st. Big Jigsaw of London - given by G - completed in time for NYE - but with one missing piece (never turned up sadly!)
2015
January
B's birthday - all met for lunch up in London (unfortunate theft - poor G!)
Trip to Cardiff for P's birthday
End of Jan - Trip to Hunston for W/e (immediately before my birthday)
February
Birthday - out with B: Museum of London (lunch then Sherlock exhib) Evening - round to G&L for take-away
Sunday, 17 March 2013
The dangers of reminiscing!
I have a couple of very old friends. We've been friends since we were all 14 years old. That's 35 years of friendship. We've just had a week-end of pampering in a Spa Hotel together - a joint 50th birthday celebration for us all (one of us is 51, I've just turned 50 and one is due to be 50 in a few months time)
We don't see each other that often, but enough to keep the friendship going. As is often the case, there is a fulcrum person - the one who is friends with each of the other two, more than the other two are directly friends with each other. That's certainly the case with us (and it's not me). The fulcurm person is fighting cancer - deeply worrying, but so far so good. We don't talk about it - other medical friends have been pessimistic, but so far so good. Who knows how long she's got? I keep expecting to lose her in a matter of months, and then she seems fine again so I think 'oh, maybe she WILL beat the odds - she will be the one who does get to have more years than those medical friends suggested was likely'.
But that doesn't stop the normal grittiness and difficulties of a friendship - although it does stop me wanting to tackle the issues with her.
Basically she really hurt my feelings today - and opened a wound she'd only opened quite recently, by retelling the exact same anecdote (if you can call it an anecdote) which I'd forgotten all about. I got upset but didn't want to explain why - and I had the feeling that both my friends wrongly assumed I was upset about C's cancer - which would obviously have reflected much better on me than the truth!
I am still really REALLY cross with her, mixed with the feelings of mortification and self-loathing that she stirred up. And I can't help thinking - 'If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all, DEAR.' The spiteful, judgemental subtext of what she said seemed to me to be 'Here's how awful you were back then, when you were fourteen - you embarassed me in front of my dad and I still haven't forgiven you.'
I just wish I hadn't opened the door to the anecdote in question - all I did was follow our other friend's jokey comment about her own teenage daughter's friend being boy-mad by making a passing comment about how boy-mad I myself had been back then (in a rueful jokey way). And then BAM! Again with the 'treating my dad like a taxi-driver' recollection. Snearing, lip-curlingly distainful, angry, mortified - the emotions still seemingly accusatory and fresh. Her father's dead - does that make it worse for her? But it's HER I offended really - SHE was embarassed by me, and she really wants to rub my nose in it.
I can't change the person I was at fourteen, but I hate that you've spoilt my sense of who I was back then. I can accept I was silly, but I didn't know that my best friend was carrying this, and could take such glee in puncturing my self-image, and my image of what our friendship had been back then. If that's who I was back then, I don't want to know about it - and I don't want to be reminded that THAT is who you are remembering - and not with fondness, it seems. I am no longer sure of the value of old friendships if they carry such a sting. Who I was, who I became. It's not helpful to hate your younger self. There is much that baffles me about my young self, much I regret (much more from university days too!) And I don't care to be reminded like that. NO. Just NO.
Here's the email I drafted but won't send:
Dear C_,
We don't see each other that often, but enough to keep the friendship going. As is often the case, there is a fulcrum person - the one who is friends with each of the other two, more than the other two are directly friends with each other. That's certainly the case with us (and it's not me). The fulcurm person is fighting cancer - deeply worrying, but so far so good. We don't talk about it - other medical friends have been pessimistic, but so far so good. Who knows how long she's got? I keep expecting to lose her in a matter of months, and then she seems fine again so I think 'oh, maybe she WILL beat the odds - she will be the one who does get to have more years than those medical friends suggested was likely'.
But that doesn't stop the normal grittiness and difficulties of a friendship - although it does stop me wanting to tackle the issues with her.
Basically she really hurt my feelings today - and opened a wound she'd only opened quite recently, by retelling the exact same anecdote (if you can call it an anecdote) which I'd forgotten all about. I got upset but didn't want to explain why - and I had the feeling that both my friends wrongly assumed I was upset about C's cancer - which would obviously have reflected much better on me than the truth!
I am still really REALLY cross with her, mixed with the feelings of mortification and self-loathing that she stirred up. And I can't help thinking - 'If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all, DEAR.' The spiteful, judgemental subtext of what she said seemed to me to be 'Here's how awful you were back then, when you were fourteen - you embarassed me in front of my dad and I still haven't forgiven you.'
I just wish I hadn't opened the door to the anecdote in question - all I did was follow our other friend's jokey comment about her own teenage daughter's friend being boy-mad by making a passing comment about how boy-mad I myself had been back then (in a rueful jokey way). And then BAM! Again with the 'treating my dad like a taxi-driver' recollection. Snearing, lip-curlingly distainful, angry, mortified - the emotions still seemingly accusatory and fresh. Her father's dead - does that make it worse for her? But it's HER I offended really - SHE was embarassed by me, and she really wants to rub my nose in it.
I can't change the person I was at fourteen, but I hate that you've spoilt my sense of who I was back then. I can accept I was silly, but I didn't know that my best friend was carrying this, and could take such glee in puncturing my self-image, and my image of what our friendship had been back then. If that's who I was back then, I don't want to know about it - and I don't want to be reminded that THAT is who you are remembering - and not with fondness, it seems. I am no longer sure of the value of old friendships if they carry such a sting. Who I was, who I became. It's not helpful to hate your younger self. There is much that baffles me about my young self, much I regret (much more from university days too!) And I don't care to be reminded like that. NO. Just NO.
Here's the email I drafted but won't send:
Dear C_,
I'm not sure if you want me to apologise for embarassing you in front of your dad back when we were 14, but you've told that disdainful anecdote twice now (to my face) and it seems to carry quite a heavy emotional load for you - the way you spit it out with such harshness. If it means anything after all these years, I am sorry for the way I acted back then.
But you need to know how hurt I have been by your decision to reiterate such a mean-spirited anecdote. I was very hurt both times, particularly this morning. I can't change the past, but it upset me to discover that you were carrying such deep negativity about the teenager I was back then. I don't want to get embroiled any further in the incidents that mortified you so much back then, nor do I know whether you spoke to me about it at the time, to try to get me to modify my behaviour. I hope you did, but have no memory.
You made me ashamed of the me I was back then when there's nothing I can do about it now. I can't change what I did or who I was. And to be honest I'd rather dwell on nice memories. It would be like me trying to trawl my mind for anecdotes that reflect badly on you from back then, although to be honest I don't think I have any - at least not ones I've elected to retain.
I know you'll probably wave this away as me over-reacting or reading more into it than intended. The dynamic in our friendship seems to involve quite a lot of you feeling and acting superior to me and judging me. I am not sure I can....
and that's where I broke off.
Saturday, 1 September 2012
Jangly - on a previous day (not on date of posting)
Am all jangly. Had mindless fun sharing Jesus Christ Superstar with friends via twitter earlier. But the Family Camp catering issues are worrying me - some progress with emails tonight but it's not ideal. And then there's the rubbish I've yet to put out.
And I'm just feeling this yawning existential emptiness - like there's a hole in the bottom of my soul*, and I'm leaking out into empty space. Blackness leaking into blackness. Stupid stuff. I'm not suicidal - not at all. But I'm certainly a bit glum.
*this is a poetic construct or metaphor, since I no longer believe in such a thing as a 'soul'
And I'm just feeling this yawning existential emptiness - like there's a hole in the bottom of my soul*, and I'm leaking out into empty space. Blackness leaking into blackness. Stupid stuff. I'm not suicidal - not at all. But I'm certainly a bit glum.
*this is a poetic construct or metaphor, since I no longer believe in such a thing as a 'soul'
Monday, 28 May 2012
Productive trivia
Just wanted to mark my sense of achievement today. So minor and boring but for me it was quite something. I came home from work at about 3.30pm, having already managed to pick up milk and a birthday cake for Gethin at lunchtime. I didn't feel like walking the dog straight away, but rather than go for a nap I decided to try to get a few things done. First, I rang to try to book our Beaver Scouts on a visit to the Bunny Park - either to the Animal Centre or to meet the Park Rangers and do Meadow Sweeping or similar. One answerphone message left for the Animal Centre was followed by a chat with one of the Park Ranger team. Sadly the cut backs mean that a visit at 5pm on a Friday can't be faciliated by the Park Rangers. They now finish at 4.30pm, and the only other alternative is to opt for a week-end slot (like a Saturday pm?) So nothing clinched, but I'm expecting to hear back from two people (I really hope the Animal Centre can help as I really don't want to have to do a Saturday outing!!)
Next I decided to try to ring to cancel our Time Out subscription (even though the website had made it sound like the only way to cancel was to send a letter by post. Glad I did try - it was very straightforward by phone. One 'tick' on my things to do list.
After that, I decided to use the money in our Halifax ISA to pay off another chunk of our mortgage. Had to hunt for a while to find the necessary paperwork, but found it and made the necessary call. Sorted. (I then rang to speak to a different Halifax person just to confirm that the Savings account had been fully emptied, and to find out how to shut it down once empty.
I also rang to find out how to get the money out of the AA ISA which is in Bob's name, but I now need to hunt around for some paperwork dating back to when it started, to find out what the user name is, in order to access the thing on line and get the money out!! So partial success there, but more to do.
Later (with Bob now home, and yummy coronation pork and fried potato to eat) I thought I would try to find somewhere for us to stay on Friday night - since we'd decided to drive part of the way up towards Aberystwyth that evening, rather than set off on the Saturday morning. This means I need to get everything ready on Thursday evening, so we can set off straight after Beavers finish on Friday! That will be around 7pm - hope we don't get snarled up in terrible traffic! Anyway, I found a number of options, some cheaper, some dearer. In the end - after a certain amount of agonising and a minimal amount of input from Bob (!) - I booked a night in the Great Malvern Hotel! It's a bit off the route, but worth the detour I think. I just hope there isn't an extra charge for the dog! Cos it's already quite a bit more expensive than other options I'd looked at.
By the time I'd sorted out the hotel it was quite late to be walking the dog - but I did it, and got back at about 8.20pm!
That's enough for today I think. Plenty more on my Things to Do list - including some pretty high priority things, but I can't face any more.
Next I decided to try to ring to cancel our Time Out subscription (even though the website had made it sound like the only way to cancel was to send a letter by post. Glad I did try - it was very straightforward by phone. One 'tick' on my things to do list.
After that, I decided to use the money in our Halifax ISA to pay off another chunk of our mortgage. Had to hunt for a while to find the necessary paperwork, but found it and made the necessary call. Sorted. (I then rang to speak to a different Halifax person just to confirm that the Savings account had been fully emptied, and to find out how to shut it down once empty.
I also rang to find out how to get the money out of the AA ISA which is in Bob's name, but I now need to hunt around for some paperwork dating back to when it started, to find out what the user name is, in order to access the thing on line and get the money out!! So partial success there, but more to do.
Later (with Bob now home, and yummy coronation pork and fried potato to eat) I thought I would try to find somewhere for us to stay on Friday night - since we'd decided to drive part of the way up towards Aberystwyth that evening, rather than set off on the Saturday morning. This means I need to get everything ready on Thursday evening, so we can set off straight after Beavers finish on Friday! That will be around 7pm - hope we don't get snarled up in terrible traffic! Anyway, I found a number of options, some cheaper, some dearer. In the end - after a certain amount of agonising and a minimal amount of input from Bob (!) - I booked a night in the Great Malvern Hotel! It's a bit off the route, but worth the detour I think. I just hope there isn't an extra charge for the dog! Cos it's already quite a bit more expensive than other options I'd looked at.
By the time I'd sorted out the hotel it was quite late to be walking the dog - but I did it, and got back at about 8.20pm!
That's enough for today I think. Plenty more on my Things to Do list - including some pretty high priority things, but I can't face any more.
Tuesday, 24 May 2011
Wistful hankering
I went to my old school's 30 year reunion on Saturday. It was specifically my year group - but it was a very VERY big school, so - even with lots unable to make the reunion - there were a lot of people there (70+), not all of whom I could remember ever having known at school.
It was a wonderful night - and I really enjoyed catching up with those I'd known quite well at school and those I'd hardly known at all, but who are now very lovely, friendly 47 or 48 year old men and women. Much nicer people than they were at school, in many cases. Indeed, I had a strong sense that everyone was at a very good age for such a reunion, seeming happy and comfortable in their own skins. The vast majority were married with kids, and (like me) still with original spouses of 20 odd years. A few had moved on to a second partner. I was interested/surprised to discover that my eldest son being nearly 21 put me at the top end of those who had had their babies youngish: a number were similar to me, but plenty had much younger children - including a few with a youngest of only 6!
But the highlight of the evening for me - which was very unexpected - was a bit of a frisson with one particular chap. Someone who was as delighted to see me as I was to see him, although I wouldn't have predicted it beforehand. The odd thing is - as soon as we saw each other, there was a fantastic sense of connection and real affection - but for the life of me I can't remember how we became friends at school, or indeed anything about our friendship 30 years ago. It's very odd to be fond of someone and not be able to remember why! I'm pretty sure we never had any teen romance - I was always very thorough at recounting all my endless boyfriends in my diaries. He wasn't involved in the Drama Society, didn't do the same subjects as me for A level - so how exactly did we become friends?? It's driving me mad - and I had to be quite careful not to let on how little I could remember, always hoping that he would say something that would jog my memory and it would all come flooding back - but no luck.
We chatted about our respective lives, each of us happily married and with children, each of us happy and in jobs we enjoy.
At the end of the evening, when I was sorting out getting a lift home from my Dad (now that really DID make me feel like a teenager again!) at about 1.30am, I was looking around and couldn't find him to say goodbye. I thought he must've already left, but then - at the last moment - I spotted him outside the front door, sitting chatting with the smokers on the verrandah. I knew my dad would be coming along in the car any minute, so I just went over to say cheerio, and to give him my contact details, in the hope we could stay in touch.
As we were saying goodbye, he gave me another lovely hug and half-jokingly, half-wistfully said quietly into my ear 'Ah Heather, in another life, eh?' It was very touching - and I knew exactly what he meant, cos I felt it too. I said - 'but we can be friends, can't we?' And he agreed - he said he wasn't really into email never mind facebook and - although I'd only given him my email and phone details but hadn't given him my home address, he said he'd find a way and would write to me via old-style snail mail. I really hope he does - although part of me is a little worried, because... - well, it's obvious why!
He may come to the same conclusion and may decide not to contact me after all as a result (I did very much leave the ball in his court) I wonder how much the alcohol played a part that night too....
He has a facebook page, but hasn't responded to my friend request (yet?), not that I take too much from that, because I think he only did the facebook thing to get in touch with the organiser about the reunion.
What a strange thing!
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
A Timely Exit?
Fuck it! That's all I need!
Heard a rather depressing bit of news on the Radio 4 Today programme this morning. Apparently researchers have established (after a 17 year study) that there is an increased risk of developing dementia among those who have had earlier episodes of depression.
Well isn't that just dandy!
Having managed to avoid topping myself so far, despite several fairly bad patches of depressive illness over the years, my 'reward' is likely to be fucking dementia!!!! Well, thank you VERY much.
Kinda takes away the incentive to combat the self-destructive demons next time round: part of me is now thinking 'Better make sure I DO fucking well kill myself before that happens, then!'
Mind you, perhaps, if I don't spot the dementia creeping up on me in time, I will no longer care that I'm going doolally: ah yes, the ultimate escape - as long as one doesn't experience the torture of intermittent lucidity!
I'm not currently depressed. Despite the bleak prospect offered by this research, I don't know if I will ever feel like killing myself again. But these things need to be considered - it's a matter of weighing up the pros and the cons; of questioning the value and quality of life in the light of such factors. Timing becomes crucial: how long do I get to hold onto my marbles?
Heard a rather depressing bit of news on the Radio 4 Today programme this morning. Apparently researchers have established (after a 17 year study) that there is an increased risk of developing dementia among those who have had earlier episodes of depression.
Well isn't that just dandy!
Having managed to avoid topping myself so far, despite several fairly bad patches of depressive illness over the years, my 'reward' is likely to be fucking dementia!!!! Well, thank you VERY much.
Kinda takes away the incentive to combat the self-destructive demons next time round: part of me is now thinking 'Better make sure I DO fucking well kill myself before that happens, then!'
Mind you, perhaps, if I don't spot the dementia creeping up on me in time, I will no longer care that I'm going doolally: ah yes, the ultimate escape - as long as one doesn't experience the torture of intermittent lucidity!
I'm not currently depressed. Despite the bleak prospect offered by this research, I don't know if I will ever feel like killing myself again. But these things need to be considered - it's a matter of weighing up the pros and the cons; of questioning the value and quality of life in the light of such factors. Timing becomes crucial: how long do I get to hold onto my marbles?
Friday, 4 June 2010
Reflections on an Obsession with a Pussy-Teaser
Fact: I am 47 years old – yes, fucking 47 (how did that happen?) ! I am also happily married and have two sons aged 18 and 20. I don’t seem to be menopausal just yet. I am, however, showing significant signs of a classic, stereotypical ‘mid-life crisis’.
Fact: Tim Minchin is 34 years old. He is a married man with two young kids and an absolutely lovely wife, Sarah. He’s a good looking, sexy fella, I grant you, with or without the eye-liner (albeit, now that he’s in his mid-30s, perhaps not quite as beautifully thin as he was a year or two ago - (judging from Youtube clips etc). He’s also – more to the point – very talented and clever and funny and quite rude. He’s a great singer and (although piano solos don’t normally float my boat) a terrific musician.
Now , it’s all very well liking musicians or comedians – that’s nothing special. But this is just embarrassing! I don’t just like him – I’ve become a silly fan-girl, and it’s just ridiculous! I can laugh at myself, but it doesn’t seem to prevent it.
Actually, last week I had begun to realise it was wearing off – and I was quite relieved, to be honest. But then, sod’s law, I just had to go to the Hay Festival, didn’t I , (well, I already had the ticket) to see said Mr Minchin perform live for the first time? Oh yeah, and queue up for a photo and autograph afterwards. No biggie – after all, I’d met him before and had a reasonably normal conversation with him, in a group context, at the Australian film festival. But hang on a minute – even on that occasion, I had been caught by the poor man staring at him (and he said ‘Hi’, to break into my stupor, and I felt a bit embarrassed, cos I hadn’t realised what I’d been doing). But after that awkward beginning it had been ok – he complimented me on my embroidered coat, and later on I was able to ask him about his part in the film and the script-writing aspect in a sensible, normal way. It was lovely. So, no biggie, then?
It was SO MUCH WORSE THIS TIME!!! I was near the front of the queue, with my two friends. He was trying to move along quite swiftly, due to the size of the queue – and I was one of the easier ones to move along, cos I couldn’t actually speak. He said ‘Hi’ and I said nothing, or maybe I said ‘Hi’ back, I’m not sure – but that’s about it: classic star-struck tongue-tied’ness’, and shaking so much I couldn’t even press the button on the camera for my friend’s photo. And so, after a short pause, he followed ‘Hi’ with ‘Bye’, and people around laughed at that. I felt awful – in fact I nearly burst into tears. He wasn’t being mean, or making fun of me as such; I can imagine it must be quite weird for him when people behave like I did – and I was just so frustrated to find myself so completely struck dumb like that. Mind you, I did get a lovely photo with him (at least, he looks lovely while I look very VERY happy to the point of slight craziness).
But my naughty little secret – the bit that made the awkwardness pale into insignificance - is the thrill I got from having my arm around him, because my right hand was resting on his waist, and I had that hyper-awareness ‘in the moment’ experience of feeling the sensation of his flesh beneath his black tee shirt. (No, not a love handle – and I didn’t squeeze or fondle or even stroke – I just rested my fingers there for that split second while the photo was being taken.) Oh the sexual frisson! I am still keeping the charge of that moment stored in my sensory-memory-battery.
But what do I do? I am torn. On the one hand, feeling this tingly girly crush is quite a high – it’s certainly drug-like. On the other, I would much prefer to get my feet back on the ground and stop feeling so silly. I don’t want to stop liking the man and his work , nor do I intend to go ‘cold turkey’ and avoid seeing him live again (in fact, I already have tickets for another appearance), but the fizzly, sizzly stuff is quite embarrassing and wearing. After all, I still like U2, but the intense, hyped-up phase wore off a couple of months after going to their live concerts for the first time last summer. But in that case, the transition back to normality was probably helped by no longer finding Bono in the least bit sexy, due (in no small part) to his horrible short haircut. (I may have had more trouble if I’d seen the Bono incarnation of the previous tour, cos he looked a lot more fanciable then - in my view anyway.)
Tim, unlike Bono, IS sexy (the forbidden word on the Angry (Feet) Forum for Minchin fans) – but I can’t even have a decent sexual fantasy about him – what with him being happily married – and to such a lovely woman too. (I’m very moral in my fantasies – no adultery allowed). So, instead, I’m just living in hope of a sex-dream, where morality wouldn’t be such an inhibition: the kind of sexual dream that seems so real you almost have an orgasm while you’re asleep! I’ve had that kind before, featuring the oddest of people, but they don’t ‘come’ to order, unfortunately.
Now, before you get all judgemental, Tim Minchin knows full well that he deploys his sexual attractiveness in his stage persona. He has his cake and he eats it too, with his self-aware, self-mocking material. But while he may feign displeasure at the sight of his own bare chest in Canvas Bags, he also - in one particular routine (on the So Fucking Rock DVD I think)- likens his rambling preamble with the audience to bumping his erect cock against the audience’s collective metaphorical buttocks… well! Ok, Tim, you just planted that image in my head, so now I’m thinking very specifically about your penis... Lots of women, from underage teenagers to ageing biddies like me, all thinking about your cock – happy now?
And, ok, so he didn’t do that bit at Hay – but what with singing or talking about inflatable sex-dolls, liking boobs, fucking like rabbits etc etc – sex is certainly on the agenda, every bit as much as religion, alternative medicine and the use of language, offensive or otherwise. And I wouldn’t have it any other way!
The girls like you, Tim, and you like it that the girls like you: as the male equivalent of what some men accuse certain women of being, I suppose I could dub you a pussy-teaser.
Being unavailable is part of the definition – ie ‘you can look but you can’t have me’ – and I get the impression that Tim has good instincts about how to manage this phenomenon of depersonalised desire. Unlike full-on stalkers, I (like most of his giddy, girly fans) know there’s a difference between the object of our desire and the real Tim. Of course, it goes without saying that I would love to get to know him as a real person, have a relaxed and friendly level of normal intimacy, without the star-struck, tongue-tied silliness – and, on the other side of the same coin, would love to be known and liked by him in return. But that’s not going to happen. I’m no different from all the other fans: I’m a fan, not a friend. I’ve joined the Tim-party too late: the early fans got to be friends (or pseudo-friends?), but now he’s too big, too famous.
And so, in the rush to get through a long queue, I become a ‘Hi’ and a ‘Bye’ . It’s just one of those things – I couldn’t help acting weird; he couldn’t help hurrying past.
When thinking about what I should have said, or what I might say if I get to meet Tim in the future, I toy with referencing his self-confessed need for affirmation (since the only thing I can offer him, as a fan, that he actually says he needs, is that!). Maybe something like:
‘Great show, Tim – consider yourself affirmed!’ or ‘I really affirm you’ or ‘Just like to offer you some heart-felt affirmation, Tim, - I absolutely love your work’ ….But it’s a bit lame, isn’t it? – and anyway, I’m sure other fans have already used that approach. No, rehearsing a set line just doesn’t seem the right way to go. Just have to hope I can retain my faculties sufficiently to improve on ‘HI..Bye’
In the end, we all have the same needs, don’t we? Affirmation is what I’m seeking too, I suppose. As a fan, (perhaps particularly because I’m a slightly older fan) I’m - foolishly - looking for some kind of affirmation from this complete stranger - a sense that my liking of him is valued in some way (even if, as I suspect - despite his sexual provocativeness - he wishes there wasn’t quite so much fervour mixed in with the liking).
The boys you have fangirl crushes on are rarely the ones you get to kiss for real (unless you’re Paula Yates – and look what happened to her!). But my real man is lovely, so no complaints there. Even so, I can’t help continuing to hope that one day my sub-conscious will grant me a TripleX-rated dream about a certain ginger, Australian toy-boy …..
Fact: Tim Minchin is 34 years old. He is a married man with two young kids and an absolutely lovely wife, Sarah. He’s a good looking, sexy fella, I grant you, with or without the eye-liner (albeit, now that he’s in his mid-30s, perhaps not quite as beautifully thin as he was a year or two ago - (judging from Youtube clips etc). He’s also – more to the point – very talented and clever and funny and quite rude. He’s a great singer and (although piano solos don’t normally float my boat) a terrific musician.
Now , it’s all very well liking musicians or comedians – that’s nothing special. But this is just embarrassing! I don’t just like him – I’ve become a silly fan-girl, and it’s just ridiculous! I can laugh at myself, but it doesn’t seem to prevent it.
Actually, last week I had begun to realise it was wearing off – and I was quite relieved, to be honest. But then, sod’s law, I just had to go to the Hay Festival, didn’t I , (well, I already had the ticket) to see said Mr Minchin perform live for the first time? Oh yeah, and queue up for a photo and autograph afterwards. No biggie – after all, I’d met him before and had a reasonably normal conversation with him, in a group context, at the Australian film festival. But hang on a minute – even on that occasion, I had been caught by the poor man staring at him (and he said ‘Hi’, to break into my stupor, and I felt a bit embarrassed, cos I hadn’t realised what I’d been doing). But after that awkward beginning it had been ok – he complimented me on my embroidered coat, and later on I was able to ask him about his part in the film and the script-writing aspect in a sensible, normal way. It was lovely. So, no biggie, then?
It was SO MUCH WORSE THIS TIME!!! I was near the front of the queue, with my two friends. He was trying to move along quite swiftly, due to the size of the queue – and I was one of the easier ones to move along, cos I couldn’t actually speak. He said ‘Hi’ and I said nothing, or maybe I said ‘Hi’ back, I’m not sure – but that’s about it: classic star-struck tongue-tied’ness’, and shaking so much I couldn’t even press the button on the camera for my friend’s photo. And so, after a short pause, he followed ‘Hi’ with ‘Bye’, and people around laughed at that. I felt awful – in fact I nearly burst into tears. He wasn’t being mean, or making fun of me as such; I can imagine it must be quite weird for him when people behave like I did – and I was just so frustrated to find myself so completely struck dumb like that. Mind you, I did get a lovely photo with him (at least, he looks lovely while I look very VERY happy to the point of slight craziness).
But my naughty little secret – the bit that made the awkwardness pale into insignificance - is the thrill I got from having my arm around him, because my right hand was resting on his waist, and I had that hyper-awareness ‘in the moment’ experience of feeling the sensation of his flesh beneath his black tee shirt. (No, not a love handle – and I didn’t squeeze or fondle or even stroke – I just rested my fingers there for that split second while the photo was being taken.) Oh the sexual frisson! I am still keeping the charge of that moment stored in my sensory-memory-battery.
But what do I do? I am torn. On the one hand, feeling this tingly girly crush is quite a high – it’s certainly drug-like. On the other, I would much prefer to get my feet back on the ground and stop feeling so silly. I don’t want to stop liking the man and his work , nor do I intend to go ‘cold turkey’ and avoid seeing him live again (in fact, I already have tickets for another appearance), but the fizzly, sizzly stuff is quite embarrassing and wearing. After all, I still like U2, but the intense, hyped-up phase wore off a couple of months after going to their live concerts for the first time last summer. But in that case, the transition back to normality was probably helped by no longer finding Bono in the least bit sexy, due (in no small part) to his horrible short haircut. (I may have had more trouble if I’d seen the Bono incarnation of the previous tour, cos he looked a lot more fanciable then - in my view anyway.)
Tim, unlike Bono, IS sexy (the forbidden word on the Angry (Feet) Forum for Minchin fans) – but I can’t even have a decent sexual fantasy about him – what with him being happily married – and to such a lovely woman too. (I’m very moral in my fantasies – no adultery allowed). So, instead, I’m just living in hope of a sex-dream, where morality wouldn’t be such an inhibition: the kind of sexual dream that seems so real you almost have an orgasm while you’re asleep! I’ve had that kind before, featuring the oddest of people, but they don’t ‘come’ to order, unfortunately.
Now, before you get all judgemental, Tim Minchin knows full well that he deploys his sexual attractiveness in his stage persona. He has his cake and he eats it too, with his self-aware, self-mocking material. But while he may feign displeasure at the sight of his own bare chest in Canvas Bags, he also - in one particular routine (on the So Fucking Rock DVD I think)- likens his rambling preamble with the audience to bumping his erect cock against the audience’s collective metaphorical buttocks… well! Ok, Tim, you just planted that image in my head, so now I’m thinking very specifically about your penis... Lots of women, from underage teenagers to ageing biddies like me, all thinking about your cock – happy now?
And, ok, so he didn’t do that bit at Hay – but what with singing or talking about inflatable sex-dolls, liking boobs, fucking like rabbits etc etc – sex is certainly on the agenda, every bit as much as religion, alternative medicine and the use of language, offensive or otherwise. And I wouldn’t have it any other way!
The girls like you, Tim, and you like it that the girls like you: as the male equivalent of what some men accuse certain women of being, I suppose I could dub you a pussy-teaser.
Being unavailable is part of the definition – ie ‘you can look but you can’t have me’ – and I get the impression that Tim has good instincts about how to manage this phenomenon of depersonalised desire. Unlike full-on stalkers, I (like most of his giddy, girly fans) know there’s a difference between the object of our desire and the real Tim. Of course, it goes without saying that I would love to get to know him as a real person, have a relaxed and friendly level of normal intimacy, without the star-struck, tongue-tied silliness – and, on the other side of the same coin, would love to be known and liked by him in return. But that’s not going to happen. I’m no different from all the other fans: I’m a fan, not a friend. I’ve joined the Tim-party too late: the early fans got to be friends (or pseudo-friends?), but now he’s too big, too famous.
And so, in the rush to get through a long queue, I become a ‘Hi’ and a ‘Bye’ . It’s just one of those things – I couldn’t help acting weird; he couldn’t help hurrying past.
When thinking about what I should have said, or what I might say if I get to meet Tim in the future, I toy with referencing his self-confessed need for affirmation (since the only thing I can offer him, as a fan, that he actually says he needs, is that!). Maybe something like:
‘Great show, Tim – consider yourself affirmed!’ or ‘I really affirm you’ or ‘Just like to offer you some heart-felt affirmation, Tim, - I absolutely love your work’ ….But it’s a bit lame, isn’t it? – and anyway, I’m sure other fans have already used that approach. No, rehearsing a set line just doesn’t seem the right way to go. Just have to hope I can retain my faculties sufficiently to improve on ‘HI..Bye’
In the end, we all have the same needs, don’t we? Affirmation is what I’m seeking too, I suppose. As a fan, (perhaps particularly because I’m a slightly older fan) I’m - foolishly - looking for some kind of affirmation from this complete stranger - a sense that my liking of him is valued in some way (even if, as I suspect - despite his sexual provocativeness - he wishes there wasn’t quite so much fervour mixed in with the liking).
The boys you have fangirl crushes on are rarely the ones you get to kiss for real (unless you’re Paula Yates – and look what happened to her!). But my real man is lovely, so no complaints there. Even so, I can’t help continuing to hope that one day my sub-conscious will grant me a TripleX-rated dream about a certain ginger, Australian toy-boy …..
Saturday, 3 April 2010
Cultural consumption
In last 2 days have seen the following DVDs and TV for the first time:
Bunny and the Bull
The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassus
The new Doctor Who episode, with 11th Doctor debut.
Two were very good and one was terrible.
Bunny and the Bull was lovely - quirky, whimsical and with some very funny bits.
Who was also terrific - a very strong opener by the new boy.
But Dr Parnassus was a real struggle - left it on till the end but I had really stopped paying attention long before the 117 minutes were up. Sad, cos I like Terry Gilliam's surreal tendencies and creativity. But this was just too much like hard work!
Bunny and the Bull
The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassus
The new Doctor Who episode, with 11th Doctor debut.
Two were very good and one was terrible.
Bunny and the Bull was lovely - quirky, whimsical and with some very funny bits.
Who was also terrific - a very strong opener by the new boy.
But Dr Parnassus was a real struggle - left it on till the end but I had really stopped paying attention long before the 117 minutes were up. Sad, cos I like Terry Gilliam's surreal tendencies and creativity. But this was just too much like hard work!
Friday, 2 April 2010
Lunacy rollercoaster (do not read if male or easliy grossed out)
Do you remember that Alice Cooper song 'Only Women Bleed' as covered by Julie Covington? It was in the UK charts in 1978 when I was just 15. This was long before tampax adverts appeared in all their discrete joi de vivre brightness. Although it's mainly about an abusive relationship, I remember cringing at what I took to be the double-meaning of the lyrics - as reference to menstruation.
I have a love-hate relationship with this monthly 'curse' Of course it's easier for us western women nowadays with all our nice neat sanitary products and better sex education for boys at school. I still recall my mum telling me how she used to have to get up really early in the morning, as a teenager, to burn the used rags on the sitting room fire before anyone was around. Seriously.
But it's not really that aspect I'm concerned about - it's the hormonal effects. I haven't been on the pill for over 20 years (really didn't suit me) so - apart from 2 nine month pregnancies and 2 extended breast-feeding stints when I had full-on hormonal drenchings ALL THE TIME (that's pretty much 4 years on the trot!) - I've had the natural rhythm of this monthly cycle dictating my emotions every fucking 28 or so days over that whole time.
I am very susceptible to this monthly hormonal effect. And the people closest to me can ususally tell - boy, can they tell! I am certainly prone to PMT (pre-menstrual tension - or more accurately in my case pre-menstrual tears): I get very touchy, am more likely to mind about stuff and to lose my temper - or burst into tears. I am also more likely to feel paranoid and to wallow in self-pity.
And the worst thing is that these reactions can so easily be dismissed as 'just' the hormones. But what if this phase every month is the release valve - allowing me to access genuine unfettered, uninhibited emotional reactions to things that really matter?
Well, I used to go for that story when I was in my 20s and early thirties (right on sisterhood!), but now I'm not so sure - don't tend to take it (or myself) quite so seriously these days.
Oh, and another REALLY annoying thing - my libido gets a lovely big temporary 'kick' just at the time each month when I really don't want to bother with actually having sex cos of the hassle and - let's face it - extra messiness.
On the plus-side I usually get one (but only one) incredibly productive happy and high-energy day just before my period starts.
But annoying as I may often find my periods and their effects on my emotional state, ahead of me there's an even more disturbing prospect which I'm dreading: the menopause! My mum had a really REALLY bad time when she went through 'the change'. Aside from the awful hot flushes and night sweats, she said that emotionally it was like going through adolescence all over again!! I just don't think I can face that much MORE of a rollercoaster on the way to the other side! I've therefore always ALWAYS been adamant that at the first sign of menopausal craziness I will scoot off to my GP for Hormone Replacement Therapy. With my propensity to dip into clinical depression, I just don't think I could cope with that intense a destabilisation for several years.
I know that HRT has been linked with increased risks of some kinds of cancer, plus decreased risks for some other kinds of cancers. On balance I'm figuring I'll take my chances on that score. Mind you, since I didn't like being on the pill, I'm not sure if this HRT stuff will suit me either.
But hey, I'm only 47 and so far no hint of the current rollercoaster tipping me off.
Scream if you wanna go faster, girls.....
I have a love-hate relationship with this monthly 'curse' Of course it's easier for us western women nowadays with all our nice neat sanitary products and better sex education for boys at school. I still recall my mum telling me how she used to have to get up really early in the morning, as a teenager, to burn the used rags on the sitting room fire before anyone was around. Seriously.
But it's not really that aspect I'm concerned about - it's the hormonal effects. I haven't been on the pill for over 20 years (really didn't suit me) so - apart from 2 nine month pregnancies and 2 extended breast-feeding stints when I had full-on hormonal drenchings ALL THE TIME (that's pretty much 4 years on the trot!) - I've had the natural rhythm of this monthly cycle dictating my emotions every fucking 28 or so days over that whole time.
I am very susceptible to this monthly hormonal effect. And the people closest to me can ususally tell - boy, can they tell! I am certainly prone to PMT (pre-menstrual tension - or more accurately in my case pre-menstrual tears): I get very touchy, am more likely to mind about stuff and to lose my temper - or burst into tears. I am also more likely to feel paranoid and to wallow in self-pity.
And the worst thing is that these reactions can so easily be dismissed as 'just' the hormones. But what if this phase every month is the release valve - allowing me to access genuine unfettered, uninhibited emotional reactions to things that really matter?
Well, I used to go for that story when I was in my 20s and early thirties (right on sisterhood!), but now I'm not so sure - don't tend to take it (or myself) quite so seriously these days.
Oh, and another REALLY annoying thing - my libido gets a lovely big temporary 'kick' just at the time each month when I really don't want to bother with actually having sex cos of the hassle and - let's face it - extra messiness.
On the plus-side I usually get one (but only one) incredibly productive happy and high-energy day just before my period starts.
But annoying as I may often find my periods and their effects on my emotional state, ahead of me there's an even more disturbing prospect which I'm dreading: the menopause! My mum had a really REALLY bad time when she went through 'the change'. Aside from the awful hot flushes and night sweats, she said that emotionally it was like going through adolescence all over again!! I just don't think I can face that much MORE of a rollercoaster on the way to the other side! I've therefore always ALWAYS been adamant that at the first sign of menopausal craziness I will scoot off to my GP for Hormone Replacement Therapy. With my propensity to dip into clinical depression, I just don't think I could cope with that intense a destabilisation for several years.
I know that HRT has been linked with increased risks of some kinds of cancer, plus decreased risks for some other kinds of cancers. On balance I'm figuring I'll take my chances on that score. Mind you, since I didn't like being on the pill, I'm not sure if this HRT stuff will suit me either.
But hey, I'm only 47 and so far no hint of the current rollercoaster tipping me off.
Scream if you wanna go faster, girls.....
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Fitting in
Have just been away at a local scout campsite helping to run a Beaver Scout Sleepover (in fact two Sleepovers for 2 separate groups of children on consecutive nights) Very, very tiring - not so much due to lack of sleep, since I got a reasonable amount on both nights, plus a nice big nap during the break between the 2 on Saturday afternoon, but just the overall demandingness of the thing as a whole.
But my main reason for blogging is to try to pin down my odd feelings of dislocation and awkwardness. The Beaver Sleepover was kinda fun and mainly rewarding but I still felt a bit strange with the other 'scouty' people who were organising and running it. This is a group I feel that I ought to fit in with, but I don't. I liked the woman I was sharing a room with - and although she was a lot more confident and certain about everything she thinks & says than I tend to be, I did feel more at ease with her than anyone else.
I made worthwhile contributions to various aspects of the event - in particular, leading lots of songs during the (indoor) Campfire Sing-song each night, and (on 2nd night) trying to get the difficult kid to go to sleep by whispering a made-up (& deliberately boring/ sleep-inducing) bedtime story in his ear (unsuccessfully it turned out, but my efforts were appreciated by the other leaders I later discovered). On the first night, we had a brief power cut which interrupted the video showing cartoons (shown as the settling-down-for-the-night part of the programme - something I disapproved of on principle). I was able to fill in the time until the video re-started with a story I'd brought along to read to them. My big floor jigsaw also proved handy last night with several kids who arrived earlier than the rest; and my spare soft toy beaver helped a little girl who was a bit upset and who had forgotten to bring a teddy. I also enjoyed accompanying the groups of kids to the Rabbit Run and Adventure playground each day.
Highlights: On Saturday morning, one child said to me'This is the best day of my whole life'! Another child asked if I would read them another story at some point because she'd really liked it. I also enjoyed helping some of the children attempt things they were nervous about doing (eg the rabbit run in the dark, or climbing the high obstacles on the adventure course) - they got a huge sense of achievement from doing these things.
There did seem to be rather a large number of adults for the number of children at the event. I sometimes think that this kind of over-manning is because the scouty adults are there for themselves (but that's a truism - 'we do it for the sake of the kids' is always only part of the picture - we ALL do it cos we enjoy it and it makes us feel good). But there were a few aspects of the overmanning and way the event was run that made me a tad irritated.
The most annoying thing was having far too many activity bases - there were 7 different bases (mine was codes and secret messages): with only 4 sub-groups of kids moving around (an odd decision in itself), I felt that I had spent a lot of time preparing a base which wasn't really needed - and due to the rotation of just 4 groups (rather than free-flow which I think would've worked better) I was left twiddling my thumbs for significant chunks of time. I had also run off enough copies of everything for all the kids to have one each, but only a small proportion of the kids got to do my base at all. Heavy sigh. I did try to stay postive and just allow myself to feel ryely amused rather than cross and bitter. I can keep all the spare copies and use them with the Beavers in the future.
The other thing that annoyed me a tiny bit was the way the leaders sat having their meals for such a long time (particularly today) while the kids had totally finished and were getting bored and restless. We could have fitted in more time for the bases for one thing!
It was good that they had more games outdoors today when the weather was better, but I had to walk away from what the (youngish) leader was doing as an ad hoc game to fill a short time-gap (caused by late lunch and over-running on lunch itself which meant we couldn't do the last spell of bases as per Sleepover Programme - grrr again). Anyway, the reason I had to walk away is because I really didn't like the game she was running. It was a very simple and tedious game, but my main gripe was that she was running it as a 'you're out' game, and it seemed to take ages, with an ever-growing group of 'outted' kids just standing there. I much prefer games where all the kids get to be involved throughout.
I did a few turns on drying dishes during the week-end (don't think I did any real turns on actual washing up.) Didn't do a great deal of the cleaning and tidying up at the end either. So that was one blessing of the overmanning! I hate all that stuff - and I only ever do what I feel I have to not to be regarded as a lazy work-dodger in the eyes of the others!
The woman in charge of the catering was one of those rather bossy, over-confident people. Really bugged me. A small example - when I tried to go into the kitchen to find something thin to poke down into a toothbrush cover which had a tiny toothpaste cap trapped inside (one of my Beavers asked for my help with this), she totally took over unnecessarily - as if I was coming to her to solve the problem, which I wasn't - and there was nothing I could do but go along with it, cos otherwise I would have looked petty.
Since this was a County event, there were a limited number of places available for each Group - in effect, 4 places per night, so 8 in total, for each Leader willing to come along to help run it. (in the end the numbers were lower than they should have been, due to late cancellations by a couple of groups - annoying as lots of us could easily have taken up the spaces even a fairly short notice) All this means that I gave up my whole week-end for the sake of just 8 kids from my group! (there were 18 kids in total participating in Sleepover 1 and another 23 or 24 in Sleepover 2). Might make more sense just to organise my own sleepover sometime - which would be just one night not 2 and could accomodate all 24 of my group at one fell swoop (if all wanted to do it)
Oh dear, this is a grumbly blog - and I've found that I dislike reading other people's blogs when they're like that. So I hope this is tucked away enough to escape much notice.
But my main reason for blogging is to try to pin down my odd feelings of dislocation and awkwardness. The Beaver Sleepover was kinda fun and mainly rewarding but I still felt a bit strange with the other 'scouty' people who were organising and running it. This is a group I feel that I ought to fit in with, but I don't. I liked the woman I was sharing a room with - and although she was a lot more confident and certain about everything she thinks & says than I tend to be, I did feel more at ease with her than anyone else.
I made worthwhile contributions to various aspects of the event - in particular, leading lots of songs during the (indoor) Campfire Sing-song each night, and (on 2nd night) trying to get the difficult kid to go to sleep by whispering a made-up (& deliberately boring/ sleep-inducing) bedtime story in his ear (unsuccessfully it turned out, but my efforts were appreciated by the other leaders I later discovered). On the first night, we had a brief power cut which interrupted the video showing cartoons (shown as the settling-down-for-the-night part of the programme - something I disapproved of on principle). I was able to fill in the time until the video re-started with a story I'd brought along to read to them. My big floor jigsaw also proved handy last night with several kids who arrived earlier than the rest; and my spare soft toy beaver helped a little girl who was a bit upset and who had forgotten to bring a teddy. I also enjoyed accompanying the groups of kids to the Rabbit Run and Adventure playground each day.
Highlights: On Saturday morning, one child said to me'This is the best day of my whole life'! Another child asked if I would read them another story at some point because she'd really liked it. I also enjoyed helping some of the children attempt things they were nervous about doing (eg the rabbit run in the dark, or climbing the high obstacles on the adventure course) - they got a huge sense of achievement from doing these things.
There did seem to be rather a large number of adults for the number of children at the event. I sometimes think that this kind of over-manning is because the scouty adults are there for themselves (but that's a truism - 'we do it for the sake of the kids' is always only part of the picture - we ALL do it cos we enjoy it and it makes us feel good). But there were a few aspects of the overmanning and way the event was run that made me a tad irritated.
The most annoying thing was having far too many activity bases - there were 7 different bases (mine was codes and secret messages): with only 4 sub-groups of kids moving around (an odd decision in itself), I felt that I had spent a lot of time preparing a base which wasn't really needed - and due to the rotation of just 4 groups (rather than free-flow which I think would've worked better) I was left twiddling my thumbs for significant chunks of time. I had also run off enough copies of everything for all the kids to have one each, but only a small proportion of the kids got to do my base at all. Heavy sigh. I did try to stay postive and just allow myself to feel ryely amused rather than cross and bitter. I can keep all the spare copies and use them with the Beavers in the future.
The other thing that annoyed me a tiny bit was the way the leaders sat having their meals for such a long time (particularly today) while the kids had totally finished and were getting bored and restless. We could have fitted in more time for the bases for one thing!
It was good that they had more games outdoors today when the weather was better, but I had to walk away from what the (youngish) leader was doing as an ad hoc game to fill a short time-gap (caused by late lunch and over-running on lunch itself which meant we couldn't do the last spell of bases as per Sleepover Programme - grrr again). Anyway, the reason I had to walk away is because I really didn't like the game she was running. It was a very simple and tedious game, but my main gripe was that she was running it as a 'you're out' game, and it seemed to take ages, with an ever-growing group of 'outted' kids just standing there. I much prefer games where all the kids get to be involved throughout.
I did a few turns on drying dishes during the week-end (don't think I did any real turns on actual washing up.) Didn't do a great deal of the cleaning and tidying up at the end either. So that was one blessing of the overmanning! I hate all that stuff - and I only ever do what I feel I have to not to be regarded as a lazy work-dodger in the eyes of the others!
The woman in charge of the catering was one of those rather bossy, over-confident people. Really bugged me. A small example - when I tried to go into the kitchen to find something thin to poke down into a toothbrush cover which had a tiny toothpaste cap trapped inside (one of my Beavers asked for my help with this), she totally took over unnecessarily - as if I was coming to her to solve the problem, which I wasn't - and there was nothing I could do but go along with it, cos otherwise I would have looked petty.
Since this was a County event, there were a limited number of places available for each Group - in effect, 4 places per night, so 8 in total, for each Leader willing to come along to help run it. (in the end the numbers were lower than they should have been, due to late cancellations by a couple of groups - annoying as lots of us could easily have taken up the spaces even a fairly short notice) All this means that I gave up my whole week-end for the sake of just 8 kids from my group! (there were 18 kids in total participating in Sleepover 1 and another 23 or 24 in Sleepover 2). Might make more sense just to organise my own sleepover sometime - which would be just one night not 2 and could accomodate all 24 of my group at one fell swoop (if all wanted to do it)
Oh dear, this is a grumbly blog - and I've found that I dislike reading other people's blogs when they're like that. So I hope this is tucked away enough to escape much notice.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
When I'm feeling blue...
This is not TYSIC. This is the shadow on the other side of TYSIC.
I struggle with intermittant depression and at the moment I'm gritting my teeth at the effort of getting through this winter without the help of anti-depressant medication, similar to Prosac (I came off the tablets just over a year ago having been on them for a year. Before that there'd been 6 months on them and then 6 months off - but the quick relapse was probably cos the 1st course of treatment wasn't long enough. Prior to that I hadn't had a period of depression requiring medication for about 8 years).
When I first read Mark Watson's launch of the TYSIC, my first thought was (as I posted elsewhere) that I hope I'm still around in 10 years - but what I meant by that was not just a wry acknowledgement of life's hazards - such as (in Tim Minchin's words) 'terminal illness or sudden accidental death' No, what flashed through my mind IMMEDIATELY was 'well, I hope I can manage to avoid committing suicide before then.'
Not a good sign - but not as bad as you might think! I am not currently suicidal, and in fact I have never been so deeply depressed that I have lost sight of the effect on those around me if I were to do such a thing. I do sometimes feel trapped by this, but it's a effective deterrant. So in my case morbid thoughts, although significant as a symptom, are not the same as anything ultimately self-destructive.
But life is often something I just tolerate rather than enjoy or value. I am pretty good at monitoring where I am on the slippery slope. I had hoped that a change of job would take away the stress component, but that, it turns out, isn't as crucial a factor as I'd thought - the seasonal thing is perhaps the most influential one. And although the days are now getting longer, with some lovely sunny days from time to time, I may have slid down too far to stop the chemical imbalance in my brain from self-perpetuating.
If I gauge how I am in a few weeks time I may be able to decide if I will end up having to go to the GP after all.
The above is why my first and most important overaching TYSIC is 'Improvement in my emotional wellbeing'
I struggle with intermittant depression and at the moment I'm gritting my teeth at the effort of getting through this winter without the help of anti-depressant medication, similar to Prosac (I came off the tablets just over a year ago having been on them for a year. Before that there'd been 6 months on them and then 6 months off - but the quick relapse was probably cos the 1st course of treatment wasn't long enough. Prior to that I hadn't had a period of depression requiring medication for about 8 years).
When I first read Mark Watson's launch of the TYSIC, my first thought was (as I posted elsewhere) that I hope I'm still around in 10 years - but what I meant by that was not just a wry acknowledgement of life's hazards - such as (in Tim Minchin's words) 'terminal illness or sudden accidental death' No, what flashed through my mind IMMEDIATELY was 'well, I hope I can manage to avoid committing suicide before then.'
Not a good sign - but not as bad as you might think! I am not currently suicidal, and in fact I have never been so deeply depressed that I have lost sight of the effect on those around me if I were to do such a thing. I do sometimes feel trapped by this, but it's a effective deterrant. So in my case morbid thoughts, although significant as a symptom, are not the same as anything ultimately self-destructive.
But life is often something I just tolerate rather than enjoy or value. I am pretty good at monitoring where I am on the slippery slope. I had hoped that a change of job would take away the stress component, but that, it turns out, isn't as crucial a factor as I'd thought - the seasonal thing is perhaps the most influential one. And although the days are now getting longer, with some lovely sunny days from time to time, I may have slid down too far to stop the chemical imbalance in my brain from self-perpetuating.
If I gauge how I am in a few weeks time I may be able to decide if I will end up having to go to the GP after all.
The above is why my first and most important overaching TYSIC is 'Improvement in my emotional wellbeing'
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