After all my thankfuls and attempts to look for the silver lining, last night brought me right back down.
There was a situation, created by Husby, which really wasn't that major, but tapped into one of my major triggers for stress, anxiety and panic. Instead of managing the situation appropriately, I managed a 0-1,000,000 miles an hour and made it far worse by responding with shouting and violence. THIS is why my Wise Woman was trying to tell me about anger, huh?
So tonight I was chatting things over with my WonderAunty, and with her propensity to always be able to come up with a plan to help, she ordered me some anger management books, which sound really positive and have awesome reviews.
Beating Anger: The eight-point plan for coping with rage
Anger, Rage and Relationship: An empathic approach to anger management
Angry All the Time: An Emergency Guide to Anger Control
I only hope they help.
This, plus feeling down today (and with a side-helping of insult-added-to-injury weird indigestion-type problems) left me in a gloomy, weeping mess, being comforted by Mum, Husby and WonderAunty, all of whom wanted to help but despite all their suggestions were utterly unable to alter space and time and make my two babies not dead, or fix Husby, or make us able to have children.
Today is not a thankful day. Today is one I want over and done with.
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Saturday, 18 May 2013
I diggety did it again
Wow, okay - this is getting bad. Seven whole Quick Takes and I still forgot to include my 'Ten Things of Thankful' as even one of them! I can't recollect that all of the takes were even that important. Time to rectify pretty quickly.
Friday's Ten Things of Thankfulness (post haste)
1. Husby's being seen by a FABULOUS endocrine doctor, even if the news she has isn't always what I'd like to hear. She's positive, she's proactive, she has a plan.
2. She also has a plan to help him to lose weight (a huge problem when you are insulin dependent, cos you need energy and insulin to exercise, which (managed poorly) can cancel out the good of doing the exercise in the first place or make you sick - there's no manual for this kind of thing, but she can hook us up with people who've made this their PhD topic...)
3. I *think* my insistence that walking is good for you has finally broken through to Neff's brain, as he wanted to walk to school "To make my legs grow strong" and merrily walked, ran, jumped and hopped all the way there.
4. Having finally found both bike pumps hiding in a box marked 'Kitchen' I have been reunited with my beloved bike. That wasexhausting energetic for my legs.
5. It didn't rain while I cycled.
6. I had a ma-HOU-ssive nap, quite by accident, and thoroughly enjoyed it.
7. I wasn't so stressed as I have been lately.
8. I played netball with my friends and had a lovely time.
9. The shower behaved itself after netball (I think because the boiler's so far away it sometimes forgets to do hot water when the temperature is meant to be moderate)
10. Husby came home from his games club early and we sat in companionableness both plugged into our computers
Today was awesome. I got up early (and didn't feel completely wiped out) and went merrily off with my Explorer Friend to pick up Goddaughter to go to Salisbury Market.
We rocked that market.
First stop was the bread guys to get Husby's all-important almond croissant (the look on his face later, when I handed it over, was absolutely precious), then to the olive man to buy olives and marinaded garlics, then to the other bread man to buy a bun cake to share for elevenses.
Then we mosied.
We mosied to the chilli stall, where Mr Pickles (not really his name - I checked once) told us about an exciting new product - Extreme MADness, which will use 16million Schoville naga extract as well as a 12 million extract and an 8 million extract. Husby and I have his MAD sauce (12 mil naga extract) and it is absolutely blow-your-brains-over-the-ceiling smokey chilli goodness. It comes with a verbal warning that a teaspoonful neat would hospitalise you. Less than 1/4 teaspoonful in a big pan of food will amp it up to 'blindingly hot' but the flavour is incredible.
We went along to Lakeland (the home of creative kitchenware, donchaknow) and stopped to buy the Big Issue (and subsequently bite my tongue rather hard and say nothing when he handed the magazine to my Goddaughter with a "Will you take this for Mummy? There's a good girl.")
We wandered around, across the river to where the swan rescue centre have a stall with Dill the owl (I have no idea what kind of owl he is and didn't think to ask, but here he is in someone else's picture playing silly buggers)
I managed to find a most excellent prize for tonight's Sci-Fi fancy dress at the youth group - the 1993 Official 'Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons' annual for 50p. Not a bank-breaker and an absolutely great prize. I just hope they realise how awesome it is.
Then we stopped for elevenses. Olives, bread and bun cake. And a cheeky cheese croissant. Okay, total carb-overload - you got me, but I figure that marketplace calories are rather territorial and bound to stay on home turf when we left. And it was gorgeous. There's a big boxy, paved, *thing* in one corner of the marketplace, which (after about 10 minutes of deliberation with Goddaughter) we decided shall henceforth be referred to as a plinth, being more technically accurate than 'box' or 'dais'.
It was a day of knowledge at that - I got asked all sorts. Ah the insatiable curiosity of the 5 year old mind. When were the lamp-posts put there? What plant is that? Why can't cars come on this bit? Is this a fossil? How old is this wall? What's a suffragette? Why didn't kings listen to the church? What does 'ancient' mean? What does 'descended' mean? (the last four from when we went to see the Magna Carta. She was utterly underwhelmed by the document itself but was fascinated with the various aspects of the excellent presentation displays around the room)
On the way home, the radio went on and both passengers fell asleep to the gentle brumm of the car and the awesome music pumped out by Jack FM (my favourite - they're bonkers), then I dropped them both back, went back home and took full advantage of my own free time and had another nap. Oh yes I did.
Ten Things of Thankful (the on-time edition)
1. Sunshine (intermittent) and warm weather, which meant I could wear lovely, summery layers and not worry about having to carry a 'warm layer'. Thank goodness, Jadis' rule seems to be dissipating here.
2. Getting to the almond croissant stall on time this time around (there were only three left, though, so it was a close thing).
3. Enjoying the luxury of ambling around, letting my Goddaughter dictate the pace and what we did/looked at (bits of old walls, toys in shop windows, stops to find feathers, look at flowers or climb a tree)
4. Getting my geek on with my first actual comic book (Marvel - House of M - an X-Men comic book)
5. Olives and fresh bread and tasters at the stalls. Oh, and bun-cake.
6. Being introduced yesterday via another blog to the most excellent 'Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys', only remembering the one line of it and having it stuck in my head ALL day. In the end I used it as a deterrent to stop my friend scratching at her epic bug bites from the allotment the other day (we did make a point of buying some 'after-bite' cream for her though) by singing it each time she scratched.
7. My lovely nap and Husby actually coming and getting me up (he's learned now, not to yell from the other room and leave me, as I invariably stay sound-o and have a fight with him about it when I wake up late) then making me a cup of tea.
8. My Explorer Friend is coming back later for dinner after the youth group and we're going to all eat spaghetti, meatballs and garlic bread and watch Big Bang Theory - a lovely, late Saturday evening after a day of fun. Great stuff.
9. The 'Why NO kids?' group on facebook. I've made some wonderful friends, heard some awe-inspiring (and heart-rending) stories and have been able to feel as though (although it sucks) there is solidarity, togetherness and most of all hope, after being part of a couple diagnosed with primary infertility.
10. I just realised it's the last day of Ten Things of Thankful (shoulda been yesterday but I missed it, didn't I!). Although it's been sketchy, I've rather enjoyed the challenge. Watch this space for a 'Ten Days of Thankful', which I think I'll start tomorrow. Anyone with me? I double dare you.
Friday's Ten Things of Thankfulness (post haste)
1. Husby's being seen by a FABULOUS endocrine doctor, even if the news she has isn't always what I'd like to hear. She's positive, she's proactive, she has a plan.
2. She also has a plan to help him to lose weight (a huge problem when you are insulin dependent, cos you need energy and insulin to exercise, which (managed poorly) can cancel out the good of doing the exercise in the first place or make you sick - there's no manual for this kind of thing, but she can hook us up with people who've made this their PhD topic...)
3. I *think* my insistence that walking is good for you has finally broken through to Neff's brain, as he wanted to walk to school "To make my legs grow strong" and merrily walked, ran, jumped and hopped all the way there.
4. Having finally found both bike pumps hiding in a box marked 'Kitchen' I have been reunited with my beloved bike. That was
5. It didn't rain while I cycled.
6. I had a ma-HOU-ssive nap, quite by accident, and thoroughly enjoyed it.
7. I wasn't so stressed as I have been lately.
8. I played netball with my friends and had a lovely time.
9. The shower behaved itself after netball (I think because the boiler's so far away it sometimes forgets to do hot water when the temperature is meant to be moderate)
10. Husby came home from his games club early and we sat in companionableness both plugged into our computers
Today was awesome. I got up early (and didn't feel completely wiped out) and went merrily off with my Explorer Friend to pick up Goddaughter to go to Salisbury Market.
We rocked that market.
First stop was the bread guys to get Husby's all-important almond croissant (the look on his face later, when I handed it over, was absolutely precious), then to the olive man to buy olives and marinaded garlics, then to the other bread man to buy a bun cake to share for elevenses.
Then we mosied.
We mosied to the chilli stall, where Mr Pickles (not really his name - I checked once) told us about an exciting new product - Extreme MADness, which will use 16million Schoville naga extract as well as a 12 million extract and an 8 million extract. Husby and I have his MAD sauce (12 mil naga extract) and it is absolutely blow-your-brains-over-the-ceiling smokey chilli goodness. It comes with a verbal warning that a teaspoonful neat would hospitalise you. Less than 1/4 teaspoonful in a big pan of food will amp it up to 'blindingly hot' but the flavour is incredible.
We went along to Lakeland (the home of creative kitchenware, donchaknow) and stopped to buy the Big Issue (and subsequently bite my tongue rather hard and say nothing when he handed the magazine to my Goddaughter with a "Will you take this for Mummy? There's a good girl.")
We wandered around, across the river to where the swan rescue centre have a stall with Dill the owl (I have no idea what kind of owl he is and didn't think to ask, but here he is in someone else's picture playing silly buggers)
I managed to find a most excellent prize for tonight's Sci-Fi fancy dress at the youth group - the 1993 Official 'Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons' annual for 50p. Not a bank-breaker and an absolutely great prize. I just hope they realise how awesome it is.
Then we stopped for elevenses. Olives, bread and bun cake. And a cheeky cheese croissant. Okay, total carb-overload - you got me, but I figure that marketplace calories are rather territorial and bound to stay on home turf when we left. And it was gorgeous. There's a big boxy, paved, *thing* in one corner of the marketplace, which (after about 10 minutes of deliberation with Goddaughter) we decided shall henceforth be referred to as a plinth, being more technically accurate than 'box' or 'dais'.
It was a day of knowledge at that - I got asked all sorts. Ah the insatiable curiosity of the 5 year old mind. When were the lamp-posts put there? What plant is that? Why can't cars come on this bit? Is this a fossil? How old is this wall? What's a suffragette? Why didn't kings listen to the church? What does 'ancient' mean? What does 'descended' mean? (the last four from when we went to see the Magna Carta. She was utterly underwhelmed by the document itself but was fascinated with the various aspects of the excellent presentation displays around the room)
On the way home, the radio went on and both passengers fell asleep to the gentle brumm of the car and the awesome music pumped out by Jack FM (my favourite - they're bonkers), then I dropped them both back, went back home and took full advantage of my own free time and had another nap. Oh yes I did.
Ten Things of Thankful (the on-time edition)
1. Sunshine (intermittent) and warm weather, which meant I could wear lovely, summery layers and not worry about having to carry a 'warm layer'. Thank goodness, Jadis' rule seems to be dissipating here.
2. Getting to the almond croissant stall on time this time around (there were only three left, though, so it was a close thing).
3. Enjoying the luxury of ambling around, letting my Goddaughter dictate the pace and what we did/looked at (bits of old walls, toys in shop windows, stops to find feathers, look at flowers or climb a tree)
4. Getting my geek on with my first actual comic book (Marvel - House of M - an X-Men comic book)
5. Olives and fresh bread and tasters at the stalls. Oh, and bun-cake.
6. Being introduced yesterday via another blog to the most excellent 'Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys', only remembering the one line of it and having it stuck in my head ALL day. In the end I used it as a deterrent to stop my friend scratching at her epic bug bites from the allotment the other day (we did make a point of buying some 'after-bite' cream for her though) by singing it each time she scratched.
7. My lovely nap and Husby actually coming and getting me up (he's learned now, not to yell from the other room and leave me, as I invariably stay sound-o and have a fight with him about it when I wake up late) then making me a cup of tea.
8. My Explorer Friend is coming back later for dinner after the youth group and we're going to all eat spaghetti, meatballs and garlic bread and watch Big Bang Theory - a lovely, late Saturday evening after a day of fun. Great stuff.
9. The 'Why NO kids?' group on facebook. I've made some wonderful friends, heard some awe-inspiring (and heart-rending) stories and have been able to feel as though (although it sucks) there is solidarity, togetherness and most of all hope, after being part of a couple diagnosed with primary infertility.
10. I just realised it's the last day of Ten Things of Thankful (shoulda been yesterday but I missed it, didn't I!). Although it's been sketchy, I've rather enjoyed the challenge. Watch this space for a 'Ten Days of Thankful', which I think I'll start tomorrow. Anyone with me? I double dare you.
Friday, 17 May 2013
7 Quick Takes #29 x FTSF
When I was younger I wanted to...have a family.
I had that naive assumption that my path would somewhat emulate that of my parents (after all, why wouldn't it? They're my parents - they know what's going on - surely this is how life's supposed to work out?)
I suppose it wouldn't have helped to know the reality I faced, to have gone back in time and told that little girl that she might as well stop playing 'Mummies and Daddies' and shoving the baby up her jumper. That might have made things worse, and I suppose there's a reason we're never allowed to know in advance how things are going to work out.
I *will* have a family, though.
I *will* beat the absolute bottom-fell-out-of-my-world horror that having your dearest and longest-held hopes dashed brings.
I *will* make it through this.
I just wish that when I was younger, I would've decided I wanted to be a 'career person'. That would make the Now a lot less gut-wrenching.
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| #Couldhavebeen |
We went to Husby's endocrine appointment (it seems like the whole of life, much like these quick takes, is all about us not being able to have kids) and the doctor confirmed that, although the medication she can offer can go some way to helping, we're looking at medically assisted conception.
I need to do some more research and finding out and praying (and chatting to spiritual types) as I'm not entirely sure where I stand on this. Husby and I are both against IVF, though the procedure we'd require (ICSI) is a more medically intensive procedure with the same results. I think what we're really against is the chance that life might be created then wasted because of us, so hopefully we'll get more than one shot at it, and use two fertilised eggs to implant each time (we're pleading with the doctors on this, as at the moment we'll only get one shot).
The thing is, in order to get some decent swimmers to add into the mix, if the meds prove less than helpful (or possibly anyway), Husby's going to have to have them aspirated out of him. I dread to think what this involves, but I'm fairly certain it'll be large needles and parts of his anatomy which were only ever meant to be treated with care and love.
This is what happens when your 'Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda' all comes crashing down around your ears.
At the moment he's pretty sketchy on whether he even wants to go through with it, and is beginning to query whether it (having children) is worth the hassle of the invasive medical procedures. I'm trying very hard to be supportive of him, but if that line of thought goes too far, I can see us falling out, which is a shame.
--- 3 ---
On the plus side of not having kids (see, I can find a silver lining almost anywhere, some days) I was able to pop to bed for an hour or so once we got back from the appointment. It was shortly after midday and I thought I'd get up at half 1 to have lunch, then get the washing on, the kitchen cleaned and bemoan the fact that I was missing my best friend and hoping she felt better and up to a visit soon.
Course, not having eaten coupled with a bunch of late nights lately meant that Husby woke me at 5.30pm saying "You said you'd give me a lift out now..." He at least has a severe endocrine disorder to blame for his tiredness, I just have my own, silly self.
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| I *need* this shirt |
I wanted to be a train driver, an HGV driver or an ambulance technician.
The thing is, the trains I want to drive (steam) are few and far between and almost certainly have enough Men queuing up to drive them to prevent a girlie from getting in on the action.
The HGV licence costs over £1000 to get. I also think that I'd actually be terrified of being in charge of something that big.
Ambulance technician is something which I could possibly still pursue. I volunteered for a while with St John Ambulance and loved it, although I was never able to take it all that seriously, so perhaps I'd need to start over with a more mature attitude (no more giggling when giving the kiss of life to plastic people, definitely no more 'saving' plastic torsos from choking on a piece of cork by pinning them against the wall and punching them in the stomach when the Heimlich manouevre fails (it worked though - I bet he would rather be alive with a sore tum than on the mort slab (if plastic people can 'rather' anything)))
Yeahhhh I'm sure I could drive an ambulance, though it might be a little late now for me to train to be the person doing the actual life-saving...
Five weeks ago (or was it six?) I decided to take the plunge and begin the 5:2 diet. I was the heaviest I'd been since getting married (happens to everyone, as I understand it) and in addition to just wanting to look and feel better, there was the added incentive of 'Yes, we'll give you fertility treatment but only if you jump through our BMI hoops first'.
Inspired by a friend, and my Mum (who was already doing it and seeing great results) I chose two days each week whereupon I would stop eating by 8pm the night before, skip breakfast and go for as long as I could without breaking the fast, then eat only fruit and vegetables until having a normal meal in the evening.
This, coupled with extra exercise (and not having sufficient money to use the car wantonly) has resulted in a rather resolve-boosting 7lb loss. I'm hoping that this is sustainable as a lifestyle from now on.
Sometimes I get a tune stuck in my head. The way to get it out is (of course) to listen to it. It used to be to play it on the piano, but since I no longer have one (*sob*) I settle with learning to whistle the melody. Tonight's random tune (which I practiced, like every good amateur, in the shower) was Daft Punk's 'Harder Better Faster Stronger', though in a random twist of fate, it was the melody of the (one of the many) dubstep remix. And I'm not sure why this ended up in my brain, but it's damn good.
Tomorrow should be good. My Explorer Friend and I are taking my Goddaughter to a nearby city to visit their wonderful Saturday market. I have a small list of Things I Need To Get
- Almond croissant for Husby - there's a particular stall which sells the most sublime, sugar-dust-frosted, squidgy-in-the-middle, flaky, buttery, toasted-almond-bedecked creations. They are his cocaine.
- Olives for my Goddaughter. She's a lovely kid with
weirdsophisticated tastes and green olives are one of the things she enjoys most. If she was allowed, she could polish off the whole pot, likely in one sitting. - Marinaded garlic cloves - from the same stall as the olives, these little babies have been marinaded in tomato oil and magic until all the strength and pungency is gone and you're left with a delicious, flavoursome, almost-fruity morsel. These are for my Sis, though undoubtedly Niece will have a few.
- A science-fiction-related prize for the youth group tomorrow evening. They're having a Sci-Fi theme with a prize for the best fancy dress. Guess what though - we forgot about the 'prize' bit until quite recently, so thank goodness it's meant to be a shopping day!
- Something for myself. Not sure what yet, but I'm sure I'll have my eye caught by some lovely item. Or bread - it could be bread; there's a particularly good walnut and raisin available...
For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!
Thursday, 16 May 2013
Double helpings
Ok, so apparently I suck at resolutions, even the ones which only last a week.
I truly had wanted to do my 'Ten Things of Thankful' every day for one measly week, but yesterday evening and I had different ideas.
Husby and I have been taking the CAP Money Course (that sounds like a bigger endeavour than it has been - it's three Wednesday evenings (yesterday was the middle week) and they give us tea and homemade cake) but the state of our finances has been a consistent source of stress and anxiety. For me. Husby seems once again to be doing his 'head-in-the-sand' or 'head-in-the-clouds' or 'truly-just-chilled-about-the-situation' thing. And again, that's winding me right up.
So in spite of it being his birthday, and in spite of making the whole day as nice as sunshine pie for him, I ruined it all in the evening by having a big ol' temper tantrum.
Properly, biggly big.
Much of it comes back to the problem of money, which is inevitable when Husby's off sick and I'm a student about to leave the course, with no job in place. Part of it also comes from the ridiculous way said things are being managed (council denying they've had change of address forms, so stopping Husby's help; me driving the hour to college to find they've no lectures planned - that kind of thing). The upshot is that in a month, we won't be able to make most of our bills.
Part of it comes from guilt that, had I just sucked it up and slogged on and not tried to do something I enjoyed, we wouldn't be in this mess. Nor would we be so reliant on family helping us out every five minutes (happy though they are to do it).
And part of it came from frustration that the internet was slow. That ol' devil frustration - the one which I respond to the tiniest touch of. One hint of sass from an inanimate object and I not only hit the ceiling, but dynamite through it and end up in outer orbit in a matter of moments. Suffice it to say the laptop ended up slammed to the floor and I ended up told off by Husby as there's no money for a new one.
Boy was I vile.
In the end I turned to drink (it was too late at night to put into practice any of those 'dealing with anger healthily' strategies I've been trying to think of - screaming would've probably had my neighbours calling the police and going for a stompy walk would probably have seen me getting stabbed (or at least yelled at by leery drunks).
A small tumbler of homemade wine is not gonna do much, I know. I didn't want drunk, like the other week when we found out Husby's count before the endocrinologist had had the chance to come up with a plan; I just wanted the edge off.
Course, knowing (as I was doing it) that turning to drink has historically been unhelpful for just about anyone who's tried it, and doing it anyway, meant that the desired small helping of numb was tempered by no small amount of shame and self-repulsion. Oh the knots we tie ourselves up in!
Just before I fell asleep (grumpily) Husby asked me whether I'd posted my ten things. I petulantly responded that no, there weren't any.
In a small voice, he asked "Not even the nice birthday dinner?"
Dammit that man knows how to handle me.
So I conceded defeat and reluctantly listed ten things with him. Then grouchily went to sleep.
Yesterday's Ten Things of Thankful
1. The nice birthday dinner
2. The money course, which is helping us (in spite of throwing up massive anxieties)
3. Ice-cream for dessert
4. Seeing the endocrinologist on Friday to get a new treatment plan
5. The flat
6. Seeing Niece and Neff in the morning
7. Having a great family
8. DVDs to watch for escapism
9. Friends who listen to me whine
10. Soft bed to sleep in.
Thankfully today was leagues better, and there's #1.
Today's Ten Things of Thankful
1. I woke up in a good (if sleepy) mood, but by the time I'd got round to my Sis's house and had some snuggle therapy with Niece and Neff, I was buzzing.
2. Kipper the Dog on Youtube (okay, and Peppa Pig and Mr Tumble)
3. The fact that in spite of being a relatively tiny tot, Niece can use the mouse to choose her next cartoon All By Herself, which frees me up to do other things without being called every five minutes to put on her next viewing choice (instead I am called every 10 to bring food or a drink or because the computer's "done something" (i.e. she clicked something she shouldn'ta))
4. The 'other things' I got to do included 2 loads of laundry (can't quite compete with Christine yet - there are still all the towels to do tomorrow) and UNPACKING THE SECOND BEDROOM. My goodness that's been bugging me, and today I just powered through it. There is now space for the second bed (ready for when Husby's parents come to stay) and the first bed is accessible and it *almost* all looks neat.
5. Glorious, beautiful, darling SUNSHINE, which warmed me up and made me cheerful. How I've missed it. It would be unusual, I'm sure, to be diagnosed with SAD in May...
6. Husby helping me when I couldn't find the bike pump, turning the shed and several cupboards upside down in the effort. After (between us) 6 trips to the shed and back, I found both our bike pumps in the same place - in a bag, in a box in the kitchen. Naturally.
7. Finding season 3 of the Big Bang Theory in a stupid place in a bag bearing no relation to anything else. But it has been found, and it was watched.
8. My explorer friend coming digging with me at the allotment instead of our usual walk (some cardio and arms/torso work rather than the usual legs stuff) and getting a goodly chunk clear of dense weeds and grass.
9. Getting less bitten by bugs than her ;)
10. A delicious dinner of homemade lamb rogan josh(ish) with my friend, Husby and Sheldon & co. And cake.
I truly had wanted to do my 'Ten Things of Thankful' every day for one measly week, but yesterday evening and I had different ideas.
Husby and I have been taking the CAP Money Course (that sounds like a bigger endeavour than it has been - it's three Wednesday evenings (yesterday was the middle week) and they give us tea and homemade cake) but the state of our finances has been a consistent source of stress and anxiety. For me. Husby seems once again to be doing his 'head-in-the-sand' or 'head-in-the-clouds' or 'truly-just-chilled-about-the-situation' thing. And again, that's winding me right up.
So in spite of it being his birthday, and in spite of making the whole day as nice as sunshine pie for him, I ruined it all in the evening by having a big ol' temper tantrum.
Properly, biggly big.
Much of it comes back to the problem of money, which is inevitable when Husby's off sick and I'm a student about to leave the course, with no job in place. Part of it also comes from the ridiculous way said things are being managed (council denying they've had change of address forms, so stopping Husby's help; me driving the hour to college to find they've no lectures planned - that kind of thing). The upshot is that in a month, we won't be able to make most of our bills.
Part of it comes from guilt that, had I just sucked it up and slogged on and not tried to do something I enjoyed, we wouldn't be in this mess. Nor would we be so reliant on family helping us out every five minutes (happy though they are to do it).
And part of it came from frustration that the internet was slow. That ol' devil frustration - the one which I respond to the tiniest touch of. One hint of sass from an inanimate object and I not only hit the ceiling, but dynamite through it and end up in outer orbit in a matter of moments. Suffice it to say the laptop ended up slammed to the floor and I ended up told off by Husby as there's no money for a new one.
Boy was I vile.
In the end I turned to drink (it was too late at night to put into practice any of those 'dealing with anger healthily' strategies I've been trying to think of - screaming would've probably had my neighbours calling the police and going for a stompy walk would probably have seen me getting stabbed (or at least yelled at by leery drunks).
A small tumbler of homemade wine is not gonna do much, I know. I didn't want drunk, like the other week when we found out Husby's count before the endocrinologist had had the chance to come up with a plan; I just wanted the edge off.
Course, knowing (as I was doing it) that turning to drink has historically been unhelpful for just about anyone who's tried it, and doing it anyway, meant that the desired small helping of numb was tempered by no small amount of shame and self-repulsion. Oh the knots we tie ourselves up in!
Just before I fell asleep (grumpily) Husby asked me whether I'd posted my ten things. I petulantly responded that no, there weren't any.
In a small voice, he asked "Not even the nice birthday dinner?"
Dammit that man knows how to handle me.
So I conceded defeat and reluctantly listed ten things with him. Then grouchily went to sleep.
Yesterday's Ten Things of Thankful
1. The nice birthday dinner
2. The money course, which is helping us (in spite of throwing up massive anxieties)
3. Ice-cream for dessert
4. Seeing the endocrinologist on Friday to get a new treatment plan
5. The flat
6. Seeing Niece and Neff in the morning
7. Having a great family
8. DVDs to watch for escapism
9. Friends who listen to me whine
10. Soft bed to sleep in.
Thankfully today was leagues better, and there's #1.
Today's Ten Things of Thankful
1. I woke up in a good (if sleepy) mood, but by the time I'd got round to my Sis's house and had some snuggle therapy with Niece and Neff, I was buzzing.
2. Kipper the Dog on Youtube (okay, and Peppa Pig and Mr Tumble)
3. The fact that in spite of being a relatively tiny tot, Niece can use the mouse to choose her next cartoon All By Herself, which frees me up to do other things without being called every five minutes to put on her next viewing choice (instead I am called every 10 to bring food or a drink or because the computer's "done something" (i.e. she clicked something she shouldn'ta))
4. The 'other things' I got to do included 2 loads of laundry (can't quite compete with Christine yet - there are still all the towels to do tomorrow) and UNPACKING THE SECOND BEDROOM. My goodness that's been bugging me, and today I just powered through it. There is now space for the second bed (ready for when Husby's parents come to stay) and the first bed is accessible and it *almost* all looks neat.
5. Glorious, beautiful, darling SUNSHINE, which warmed me up and made me cheerful. How I've missed it. It would be unusual, I'm sure, to be diagnosed with SAD in May...
6. Husby helping me when I couldn't find the bike pump, turning the shed and several cupboards upside down in the effort. After (between us) 6 trips to the shed and back, I found both our bike pumps in the same place - in a bag, in a box in the kitchen. Naturally.
7. Finding season 3 of the Big Bang Theory in a stupid place in a bag bearing no relation to anything else. But it has been found, and it was watched.
8. My explorer friend coming digging with me at the allotment instead of our usual walk (some cardio and arms/torso work rather than the usual legs stuff) and getting a goodly chunk clear of dense weeds and grass.
9. Getting less bitten by bugs than her ;)
10. A delicious dinner of homemade lamb rogan josh(ish) with my friend, Husby and Sheldon & co. And cake.
Tuesday, 14 May 2013
A tiny treatise on anger
Ahhhh anger. In all your forms and variations you do most royally screw me up!
This week's session with my Wise Woman was all about the anger (except when she was rejoicing with me about the next shot at treatment for Husby and the fact that although we're technically back where we were before (or will be once his new treatment plan kicks in) my attitude has been transformed for so much the better).
Apparently I have some issues to deal with.
The exercise in the session was to create a kind of anger scale, from least intense to most intense and the feelings and associations I have with each stage.
We begin at the beginning with irritation. Irritation is mild annoyance, easily managed, easily fixed and not that destructive. It is surmountable. It is small. But it has historically been frequent, and in large quantities of small amounts can possibly add up to something quite major.
Then onto cross. Cross is what comes when the trigger for irritation has continued or worsened. It usually has a 'tone of voice' that goes with it. It might develop into an argument. It sometimes has a facial expression of disgust, repulsion, dislike, condescension or sneering superiority. It is Not Nice.
Cross also wants to get the better of people, put them in their place and sail on by, smug and self-righteous. Cross often happens when I feel wronged; when I feel something *should* have been attended to or someone *should* not have done something. Cross wants people to feel bad, inferior and shameful. It is smart-aleck-y and snide. It uses sarcasm as a weapon. It is often quite happy to climb out on a branch, sit there and cut itself away from the tree, just to spite others.
Case in point, on Monday morning before I left college to attend my counseling appointment, two lecturers were having some banter with the students while explaining how the remainder of the day would go (there was an on-going fish spawning happening throughout the day, which the students would be involved in, but which I would need to miss). I reminded one of the lecturers that I would need to leave early and he jokingly said "Oh, you keep doing this. And it's especially sad today because you're about to become Mum to 100,000 carp fry!" then turned to the other lecturer, tutted and remarked "I don't know! Some people." It took a great deal of self control (and mental repetition of the fact that both lecturers don't know the reason I leave early on a Monday) not to say "I'm terribly sorry that needing help for being screwed up about losing two children impacts on your lesson plan..." and watch them squirm.
After cross, and kind of in a section of its own lies frustration. There are different types of frustration, one of which I can cope with, the other which rapidly sends me over the edge. The first type comes as a result of other people; the driver who cut me up, the clinic staff who send news of infertility before the specialists get a chance to see the results and offer a plan, the milk carton emptied and left on the side again. This is alright (most of the time) and usually I don't stray too far from irritation, though sometimes I get cross.
The second kind of frustration comes through inanimate objects coupled with extant stress; being late and fumbling the car keys, trying to fix lunch for me + others and not being able to open a jar, having planned to watch a program on the internet and the service provider going down. This kind of frustration has me very quickly either shouting, slamming and throwing things or (more frequently) melting into a puddle of tears and self-pity. It's not pretty either way.
The centre of the line holds the spot taken by anger. Anger happens in response to all kinds of things, especially frustration. It is usually a little violent (though aimed at inanimate objects), quite destructive and can be hurtful. It's usually rather pig-headed and doesn't want to back down and admit fault. It also doesn't take kindly to suggestions, well-meaning interventions or humour.
It can also turn, fairly readily to self-hatred and self-pity (a revolting combination) where the emotions (except anger) dull and all becomes lost in the grey of an unwavering certainty that Nothing Is Right. It then wants to withdraw, to sulk, to nurture the wounds and simmer. Getting out of this stage is a real toughie and usually only comes after a long period of being Left Alone.
Further along and into more dangerous territory. Powerful anger is where it gets really dark. Powerful anger is highly destructive and becomes self-sustaining - it enjoys breaking things, hurting people, ruining things, exercising its power. It is The Dark Side (and I've been here, I've felt its draw and I know I'd make a totally rubbish Jedi if only for this reason). It is cold, it is calculating, it is brash, loud, violent and aggressive. It seeks to shock and to repel. It wants upset, it wants breakages, it wants a reaction. And the more pain it can cause to get that reaction, the better.
Fortunately at this stage there's still a tiny voice in my head (which I try to ignore in the heat of the moment) telling me not to go too far, not to burn my bridges, not to do any lasting damage. The length of this stage can vary.
Last stop on the line was rage. Fortunately I've not been here (by the skin of my teeth, the grace of God and the timely interventions of the people in my life at the salient moment) but I reckon this would be the point where powerful anger let go of the last vestiges of self- or other-preservation, crossed the line and went utterly postal. I'm pretty certain that if I ever lost it and ended up in this stage, I and whoever was the subject of the anger would be rather seriously hurt, with no thought for the consequences (or, at least, with that tiny voice well and truly overridden for the time being) - those bridges would be dynamited, not just burned.
It will be interesting over the coming weeks to look further into the problems I have with anger. I suspect that much of the problems stem from unresolved childhood issues and learned patterns of behaviour. In spite of the mellowing which comes with time, childhood was often a pretty harsh place for me and a lot of the time I felt as though I was an imposition - something to be dealt with. I didn't feel as though my opinions or input were valued. My confidence was undermined, my character was belittled, my self-worth was non-existant and my emotional needs were hugely un-met. And sadly I do feel that in terms of impact, the bad times outweighed the good.
I know that 'these things happen' and worse things have happened to other people. These things, though, happened to me. Yes they were the result of bigger and more difficult things going on in the immediate family. Yes there were culpabilities. Yes it was very difficult for a very, very long time, but a place of healing and reconciliation has been reached and regardless of what went before, I now enjoy good relationships with both parents and my sister.
I am also completely convinced that although many of those experiences were horrendous, I was allowed to go through them for a reason, and without them I would not be the person I am today, for better and for worse. And at the moment, I'm comfortable with who I am today.
I was left with the task to figure out some strategies for managing anger when it happens, ideally heading it off before it becomes too severe. I have no idea about how to figure those out - any tips or strategies would be really useful feedback (there's a comment box below - please do make use of it!).
Thanks on a Tuesday
1. I'm thankful that ONE of the lessons scheduled for today was any good at all. In contrast to the utter crap for the larger part of the day (due to poor planning on the part of the college) it was a wonderful experience.
2. That today wasn't a diet day!
3. That my friend the Raver, bought me an ice-lolly at lunch time (even though it was raining and cold)
4. That my college friends and I made an impromptu samba band with stools, table tops, ballpoints and a coat-rack
5. That Husby and I were able to support some friends in a very tough situation, and that they wanted and valued our support (as they've been very supportive to us)
6. That we had a lovely evening playing table-top, geeky games and having a laugh as a group of mates
7. That I'm discovering some awesome new tunes to listen to instead of the one I was stuck on; see below for instance ' Lonely Boy' by The Black Keys
8. That Husby has an appointment on Friday with his endocrinologist (it can't come soon enough)
9. That I'm going to see my bezzie friend in the world on Friday
10. That I have a warm, soft, clean bed to go to shortly.
This week's session with my Wise Woman was all about the anger (except when she was rejoicing with me about the next shot at treatment for Husby and the fact that although we're technically back where we were before (or will be once his new treatment plan kicks in) my attitude has been transformed for so much the better).
Apparently I have some issues to deal with.
The exercise in the session was to create a kind of anger scale, from least intense to most intense and the feelings and associations I have with each stage.
We begin at the beginning with irritation. Irritation is mild annoyance, easily managed, easily fixed and not that destructive. It is surmountable. It is small. But it has historically been frequent, and in large quantities of small amounts can possibly add up to something quite major.
Then onto cross. Cross is what comes when the trigger for irritation has continued or worsened. It usually has a 'tone of voice' that goes with it. It might develop into an argument. It sometimes has a facial expression of disgust, repulsion, dislike, condescension or sneering superiority. It is Not Nice.
Cross also wants to get the better of people, put them in their place and sail on by, smug and self-righteous. Cross often happens when I feel wronged; when I feel something *should* have been attended to or someone *should* not have done something. Cross wants people to feel bad, inferior and shameful. It is smart-aleck-y and snide. It uses sarcasm as a weapon. It is often quite happy to climb out on a branch, sit there and cut itself away from the tree, just to spite others.
Case in point, on Monday morning before I left college to attend my counseling appointment, two lecturers were having some banter with the students while explaining how the remainder of the day would go (there was an on-going fish spawning happening throughout the day, which the students would be involved in, but which I would need to miss). I reminded one of the lecturers that I would need to leave early and he jokingly said "Oh, you keep doing this. And it's especially sad today because you're about to become Mum to 100,000 carp fry!" then turned to the other lecturer, tutted and remarked "I don't know! Some people." It took a great deal of self control (and mental repetition of the fact that both lecturers don't know the reason I leave early on a Monday) not to say "I'm terribly sorry that needing help for being screwed up about losing two children impacts on your lesson plan..." and watch them squirm.
The second kind of frustration comes through inanimate objects coupled with extant stress; being late and fumbling the car keys, trying to fix lunch for me + others and not being able to open a jar, having planned to watch a program on the internet and the service provider going down. This kind of frustration has me very quickly either shouting, slamming and throwing things or (more frequently) melting into a puddle of tears and self-pity. It's not pretty either way.
The centre of the line holds the spot taken by anger. Anger happens in response to all kinds of things, especially frustration. It is usually a little violent (though aimed at inanimate objects), quite destructive and can be hurtful. It's usually rather pig-headed and doesn't want to back down and admit fault. It also doesn't take kindly to suggestions, well-meaning interventions or humour.
It can also turn, fairly readily to self-hatred and self-pity (a revolting combination) where the emotions (except anger) dull and all becomes lost in the grey of an unwavering certainty that Nothing Is Right. It then wants to withdraw, to sulk, to nurture the wounds and simmer. Getting out of this stage is a real toughie and usually only comes after a long period of being Left Alone.
Further along and into more dangerous territory. Powerful anger is where it gets really dark. Powerful anger is highly destructive and becomes self-sustaining - it enjoys breaking things, hurting people, ruining things, exercising its power. It is The Dark Side (and I've been here, I've felt its draw and I know I'd make a totally rubbish Jedi if only for this reason). It is cold, it is calculating, it is brash, loud, violent and aggressive. It seeks to shock and to repel. It wants upset, it wants breakages, it wants a reaction. And the more pain it can cause to get that reaction, the better.
Fortunately at this stage there's still a tiny voice in my head (which I try to ignore in the heat of the moment) telling me not to go too far, not to burn my bridges, not to do any lasting damage. The length of this stage can vary.
Last stop on the line was rage. Fortunately I've not been here (by the skin of my teeth, the grace of God and the timely interventions of the people in my life at the salient moment) but I reckon this would be the point where powerful anger let go of the last vestiges of self- or other-preservation, crossed the line and went utterly postal. I'm pretty certain that if I ever lost it and ended up in this stage, I and whoever was the subject of the anger would be rather seriously hurt, with no thought for the consequences (or, at least, with that tiny voice well and truly overridden for the time being) - those bridges would be dynamited, not just burned.
It will be interesting over the coming weeks to look further into the problems I have with anger. I suspect that much of the problems stem from unresolved childhood issues and learned patterns of behaviour. In spite of the mellowing which comes with time, childhood was often a pretty harsh place for me and a lot of the time I felt as though I was an imposition - something to be dealt with. I didn't feel as though my opinions or input were valued. My confidence was undermined, my character was belittled, my self-worth was non-existant and my emotional needs were hugely un-met. And sadly I do feel that in terms of impact, the bad times outweighed the good.
I know that 'these things happen' and worse things have happened to other people. These things, though, happened to me. Yes they were the result of bigger and more difficult things going on in the immediate family. Yes there were culpabilities. Yes it was very difficult for a very, very long time, but a place of healing and reconciliation has been reached and regardless of what went before, I now enjoy good relationships with both parents and my sister.
I am also completely convinced that although many of those experiences were horrendous, I was allowed to go through them for a reason, and without them I would not be the person I am today, for better and for worse. And at the moment, I'm comfortable with who I am today.
I was left with the task to figure out some strategies for managing anger when it happens, ideally heading it off before it becomes too severe. I have no idea about how to figure those out - any tips or strategies would be really useful feedback (there's a comment box below - please do make use of it!).
Thanks on a Tuesday
1. I'm thankful that ONE of the lessons scheduled for today was any good at all. In contrast to the utter crap for the larger part of the day (due to poor planning on the part of the college) it was a wonderful experience.
2. That today wasn't a diet day!
3. That my friend the Raver, bought me an ice-lolly at lunch time (even though it was raining and cold)
4. That my college friends and I made an impromptu samba band with stools, table tops, ballpoints and a coat-rack
5. That Husby and I were able to support some friends in a very tough situation, and that they wanted and valued our support (as they've been very supportive to us)
6. That we had a lovely evening playing table-top, geeky games and having a laugh as a group of mates
7. That I'm discovering some awesome new tunes to listen to instead of the one I was stuck on; see below for instance ' Lonely Boy' by The Black Keys
8. That Husby has an appointment on Friday with his endocrinologist (it can't come soon enough)
9. That I'm going to see my bezzie friend in the world on Friday
10. That I have a warm, soft, clean bed to go to shortly.
Monday, 13 May 2013
A very gelato birthday
Not too long ago, an amazing place opened up in the city - a gelato parlour.
The delightfully named Sprinkles was carefully positioned close to the main campus of the university so that they couldmake maximum profits offer tasty brain-food to the poor, hard-working academics.
Husby and ice-cream go back a long way, and he has a considerable passion for the stuff*, so naturally, I kept the place a secret from him (visions of bankruptcy danced in my head) but decided that I might let him know about it in time for his birthday, cos I'm a nice wife like that.
Needless to say, Husby was very excited.
A friend of ours (who has a passion for ice-cream which could rival Husby's - one year she persuaded me to visit the ice-cream van after work so many times that the ice-cream man knew us and would give us extra ice-cream or flakes with each order) had already sampled the delights of Sprinkles 30+ flavour gelato counter (and their waffles, and their crepes) and shared her excitement. We decided to go with our church home group (and avoid meeting that week, because while there's a time for scripture, there's also a time for ice-cream (I think that comes somewhere after 'a time to lay down and a time to get up'), who all jumped at the chance.
My Explorer friend picked us up and we met at 7 and went in, promptly to be jumped on by my ice-cream friend (she and I have a long history of pranking one another). We perused the amazing flavours (Blue Banana, Pomegranite, Lemon Meringue, Oreo, Coconut and many more) and thought about what we might have whilst waiting the arrival of three more of our friends.
They arrived, we ordered, we sat and nattered and ate our (actually really nice) ice-creams (I'm not usually a fan, but they tempted me with Ferrero Rocher gelato and a rainbow-sprinkle-dipped sugar cone). Husby took on the role of chief prankster, suddenly screaming to make my Explorer Friend jump. Worked twice, but the second time he over-did it a little and everyone in the cafe jumped, which was utterly hysterical.
I forgive him though - look at that grin. This is the face of a very happy birthday boy.
*A long time ago, so the legend goes, Husby's brother spiked his bowl of vanilla ice-cream by mixing it with mashed potato. The experience was so traumatic to young Husby that he still physically cringes at the idea of mashed potato. Oddly, though, his appetite for vanilla ice-cream goes undiminished. Go figure.
Things 'I-scream' Thank You for today
1. My car. Without it, I wouldn't be able to get to college (or away from it) with such ease. Nor would we manage the weekly shop so easily.
2. My Wise Woman, Lynn. She's got me working on some anger strategies, which should help matters. Apparently there are better ways of dealing with it than wanting to break things or hurt people - there's an idea...
3. Friends. Without my friends I'd be a mess. They're fun, they're smart, they're lovely. They don't mind having a laugh with me (or at my expense, as the occasion strikes) and I adore them.
4. Niece, who today surprised everyone by crossing her eyes (for the first time noticed) with great comedic intent.
5. Ice-cream (I suppose I have to, today)
6. The honesty of strangers, which begins to make friends of us.
7. My bro-in-law, who provides great one-liners and makes me laugh even without being there. He wrote a birthday card to Husby, which after signing his name, had two tiny drawn hands punching together and, in brackets 'Bro fist, because kisses are gay'
8. The postal service, which delivered Husby's birthday present from me in time for the actual day (even though he's already opened it so he has 'longer to enjoy it')
9. The Good Life, which is an awesome series and which has lovely short episodes so you can watch one over dinner without feeling you're going to lose your whole evening.
10. Husby, who I love and will now go and play his new birthday board game with, because he's so excited about having it.
The delightfully named Sprinkles was carefully positioned close to the main campus of the university so that they could
Husby and ice-cream go back a long way, and he has a considerable passion for the stuff*, so naturally, I kept the place a secret from him (visions of bankruptcy danced in my head) but decided that I might let him know about it in time for his birthday, cos I'm a nice wife like that.
Needless to say, Husby was very excited.
A friend of ours (who has a passion for ice-cream which could rival Husby's - one year she persuaded me to visit the ice-cream van after work so many times that the ice-cream man knew us and would give us extra ice-cream or flakes with each order) had already sampled the delights of Sprinkles 30+ flavour gelato counter (and their waffles, and their crepes) and shared her excitement. We decided to go with our church home group (and avoid meeting that week, because while there's a time for scripture, there's also a time for ice-cream (I think that comes somewhere after 'a time to lay down and a time to get up'), who all jumped at the chance.
My Explorer friend picked us up and we met at 7 and went in, promptly to be jumped on by my ice-cream friend (she and I have a long history of pranking one another). We perused the amazing flavours (Blue Banana, Pomegranite, Lemon Meringue, Oreo, Coconut and many more) and thought about what we might have whilst waiting the arrival of three more of our friends.
They arrived, we ordered, we sat and nattered and ate our (actually really nice) ice-creams (I'm not usually a fan, but they tempted me with Ferrero Rocher gelato and a rainbow-sprinkle-dipped sugar cone). Husby took on the role of chief prankster, suddenly screaming to make my Explorer Friend jump. Worked twice, but the second time he over-did it a little and everyone in the cafe jumped, which was utterly hysterical.
I forgive him though - look at that grin. This is the face of a very happy birthday boy.
 |
| Spoon in one hand; insulin in the other - that's how Type 1's roll... |
*A long time ago, so the legend goes, Husby's brother spiked his bowl of vanilla ice-cream by mixing it with mashed potato. The experience was so traumatic to young Husby that he still physically cringes at the idea of mashed potato. Oddly, though, his appetite for vanilla ice-cream goes undiminished. Go figure.
Things 'I-scream' Thank You for today
1. My car. Without it, I wouldn't be able to get to college (or away from it) with such ease. Nor would we manage the weekly shop so easily.
2. My Wise Woman, Lynn. She's got me working on some anger strategies, which should help matters. Apparently there are better ways of dealing with it than wanting to break things or hurt people - there's an idea...
3. Friends. Without my friends I'd be a mess. They're fun, they're smart, they're lovely. They don't mind having a laugh with me (or at my expense, as the occasion strikes) and I adore them.
4. Niece, who today surprised everyone by crossing her eyes (for the first time noticed) with great comedic intent.
5. Ice-cream (I suppose I have to, today)
6. The honesty of strangers, which begins to make friends of us.
7. My bro-in-law, who provides great one-liners and makes me laugh even without being there. He wrote a birthday card to Husby, which after signing his name, had two tiny drawn hands punching together and, in brackets 'Bro fist, because kisses are gay'
8. The postal service, which delivered Husby's birthday present from me in time for the actual day (even though he's already opened it so he has 'longer to enjoy it')
9. The Good Life, which is an awesome series and which has lovely short episodes so you can watch one over dinner without feeling you're going to lose your whole evening.
10. Husby, who I love and will now go and play his new birthday board game with, because he's so excited about having it.
Sunday, 12 May 2013
In which we went on an adventure
I. Am. Alive!
More so than normal, and perhaps particularly so at the moment.
Today I had a bona fide adventure.
I slightly feel as though Enid Blyton ought to have written my afternoon, as the only thing it lacked was smugglers, a boat trip and lashings of ginger beer. Or J.R.R. Tolkein.
A good friend and I have been trying to boost each other into slimmer, fitter outlines by committing to go walking for an hour each Wednesday night (I say walking - it's nothing so sedate, often looking something more like a forced march (ask her - her Dad's an army guy - I reckon he'd be impressed at my motivationalnagging encouragement)) leaving us with the pleasant after-glow of exercise well done. We also do netball alternate Fridays and meet up at her house to make fools of ourselves in private trying to copy the professionals on Nintendo Wii's 'Just Dance' series.
Today we decided that after church, she'd come for lunch (home made tomato soup and delicious granary bread, thankyouverymuch) and we'd go for a walk.
Having exhausted the obvious ideas for places to walk, and not wanting to take the nullifying action of Driving Somewhere To Go For A Walk, we decided to attempt a local walk which we'd previously done piecemeal.
For those who don't know the area, this particular walk took us deep into the darkest areas of the locale - places where you could rent a 4 bedroom house for 50p a month because everyone's too scared to move there and the natives will stab you for your ballpoint, eat your shoes then let their dogs use your skin as a blanket. There was also a skate park en route and everyone knows that kids with BMXes (BMXs? BMXi?) are sociopaths and the ones with scooters will chop you up and smoke you. We were being Properly Brave.
We began walking along a pretty bit of stream with nary a native in sight and chatted pleasantly. All of a sudden, there were some allotments and a small boy and an upside-down woman I seemed to recognise - we'd come out round the back of my Mum's allotment and she was there, digging potatoes in with Neff (she was using a spade though...you know what I mean), so we paused and passed the time of day for five minutes before continuing.
The skate park came next and some well-mannered boys and girls were cycling or scooting, taking turns and calling merrily to one another as they played. They didn't stab us even a little bit and we even managed some admiring glances in their direction as they pulled off some cool tricks. We girded our loins and walked past a man with a dog and he didn't stab us either.
Rather encouraged, we continued along to the next section and were fine - it was a piece we'd done before.
Then, at the end, we found a brand new bit (to us) which had a very pleasant horse chained by the side of the path. We sang The Proclaimers '500 miles' at the tops of our voices and marched steadfastly past it. It ignored us.
Then we came to a road. Across the road was a closed gate. It *looked* as though the walk continued beyond the gate. We scrambled through it and continued, telling ourselves that the path was clearly man-made and somewhat maintained. It must surely be the public footpath we knew to be there.
The sun shone and the water sparkled and the birds sang and we sang (we'd gotten into it by then) and were enjoying ourselves thoroughly when to our shock, the path ended on a road.
A ROAD?
My friend, with knowledge of the walk from a Girl Guides visit over 10 years ago, told me that there was definitely more to the walk than this, and it was not meant to end on a ROAD.
So I suggested that perhaps we'd missed a bit of path (which thus far had followed the stream) and proposed we find a way back into the woods and find the stream (and so the path and finish our walk).
We walked along the road until we saw a sort-of-gap where we could get back into the woods, and duly went for it.
We immediately came across a disembowelled moped and picked our way around it, traversed a swamp by stepping on fallen boughs, climbed over, under and through a few trees and holly thickets and found ourselves back at the stream, and lo and behold, there was a path!
Not the well-maintained, gravel path we'd been using before, more a sort of trodden-on bit in between the nettles, but it proved absolutely that people walked here, and, as people, we were damn well going to walk here.
At points the path petered out and we had to go around further swampy bits or negotiate areas where the banks were sliding into the stream and meanwhile the presence of abandoned tyres, a rope swing and someone's old sock showed that we were surely on the right track.
We continued to push our way through the straggly saplings, avoid the muddy bits and clamber along the path. We kept up a good pace and thought we were doing rather well. Right up until we found a verdant field ahead of us surrounded by some particularly nasty barbed wire.
Me: Oh damn. Do you know where we are?
Her: Well we might be behind the cemetery - can you see any graves?
Me: No, but there's a piebald horse and I know there's a piebald in the field near the cemetery [I was being pompous. I was also wrong - it was skewbald; brown and white - piebalds are black and white.]
Her: Shall we go through the fence?
Me: Probably not - I think there's like a countryside law or something.
Her: It looks like there's houses up there [pointing to one side] do you think the path's over there? I wish we knew where we were!
Me: We'd have to cross the stream then. Don't you have GPS on your phone?
Her: Oh yeah...
The GPS logged us to be precisely in the middle of nowhere so we decided to try crossing the stream and walked back to find a suitable place to cross, at which point I caught the leg of my trouser on some barbed wire half-buried in the ground and in trying not to fall over, ripped a hole in the leg and got a nettle stuck up it as my foot came down to balance me. I'm very macho though, about little things likeoh sweet MOTHER of fu a bit of a nettle sting and we got to a place where there was a shingly sort of island in the middle of the stream.
Me: You know those videos of kids on Youtube trying to cross a stream?
Her: The ones where they always fall in?
Me: Yeah, those...
I jumped, with the agility of a mountain goat onto the shingly bit, gallantly gave my friend my hand to help her down, then stuck my leg up on the other bank, braced myself and prepared to help her jump.
In our defence, the bank was slick and muddy and considerably higher than we were in the stream bed, but in the sudden scuffle that followed, somehow she ended up face-down on the muddy bank with both feet in the middle of the stream, giggling.
Attempt #2 went more smoothly until we realised that *I* still had to get out of the stream bed and up the bank. I hunkered over, grabbed a tussock of grass, grabbed her hand and with a "1, 2, 3" I exited the stream bed with the lumbering inelegance of a hippo on a buttered floor.
We hiked up through leaf litter, discarded mattresses, broken glass, holly groves and more swamps to find our way firmly barred by a chain-link fence. A few minutes more exploration led us to believe that this was in fact Not A Way Out. Then it began to rain.
Me: Please don't cut yourself on any of this glass - I don't fancy ringing the paramedics to come and get us from the back arsehole of the greenway
Her: Phone's in my back pocket.
Back down the hill (arse first through the holly groves because it was steep and less prickly that way) to try to find the bit of stream we'd crossed. Which took two tries.
Getting back over was a more organised affair, because, let's face it, we'd had a practice run on the way over.
Her: You know, I'd be freaking out if I was alone. I'm glad I'm with you, but I'm never going with you again when you say 'shall we just try to find the path?'
Me: At least we're having an adventure.
Her: I suppose so.
We followed our noses and our hopes back the way we'd come, pointing out the landmarks we'd noticed ("Look, there's that half-buried lump of sofa sponge") and found ourselves near where we thought we'd come in. We walked confidently towards the houses we could see indistinctly through the trees and found ourselves in the middle of a far wetter, stinkier and less branch-bestrewn swamp. We beat a hasty retreat and tried again, this time finding the right swamp to get ourselves outta there.
We found our way back to the road and partook in a cheering snack, which I'd brought with me (a handful of Weetabix minis), brushed ourselves down and walked back via the roads, wiping the swamp mud off our shoes onto the grass verge and letting the cold drizzle soothe our sweaty brows.
Civilisation!
I didn't quite sink down onto my knees and kiss the pavement, but it was a close thing because for all my bravado, there were a couple of moments when I thought we might actually be lost in a very small section of woodland in the middle of the city...
When we arrived home, battered, weary and exhilarated from Surviving The Wilds, we found Husby and Neff playing Pokemon on DS, both of whom listened to our regalement with impassive expressions, were utterly underwhelmed and promptly went back to what they were doing.
You just can't impress some people!
Today's Ten Things of Thankfulness
1. Making it out alive! Nuff said.
2. Youtube, for letting me play my current favourite songs on a loop, for free, indefinitely (or until I get sick of them). If you didn't see Stooshe's 'Hoochi Mumma', check it out. I cannot get enough of that bass line.
3. My friend Matt, who preached a great sermon at church today about how we might need to be a little less English in our spiritual lives (less stuffy, more undignified (but in a good way))
4. My blender stick, which turned ingredients into soup. And sharing meals with friends.
5. My wonderful Mum and WonderAunty, who decided that Husby deserved special birthday treats and were able to surprise him with lots and lots of presents that he wanted - he hadn't expected so many and was overwhelmed and very touched by their generosity.
6. Being able to have a hot shower after my adventure.
7. Husby and I both being in really good moods lately and being quite playful, which I've missed. I think even the prospect of treatment has given him a bit of energy.
8. Neff, who in spite of his boyish stand-offishness and relucance to hug and communication in grunts, shrugs and facepulls is absolutely, through-and-through adorabubble.
9. My dear friends in San Francisco who sent us a beautiful 'Thank you' package from their wedding (last year) containing photos and lovely photo-frame-amazing-thing-with-pictures-embedded-in-it things.
10. My new friends and source of support and solidarity with the infertility thing in the facebook group Why NO kids? (it's a closed group, but if you're struggling with primary infertility, please join us).
More so than normal, and perhaps particularly so at the moment.
Today I had a bona fide adventure.
I slightly feel as though Enid Blyton ought to have written my afternoon, as the only thing it lacked was smugglers, a boat trip and lashings of ginger beer. Or J.R.R. Tolkein.
A good friend and I have been trying to boost each other into slimmer, fitter outlines by committing to go walking for an hour each Wednesday night (I say walking - it's nothing so sedate, often looking something more like a forced march (ask her - her Dad's an army guy - I reckon he'd be impressed at my motivational
Today we decided that after church, she'd come for lunch (home made tomato soup and delicious granary bread, thankyouverymuch) and we'd go for a walk.
Having exhausted the obvious ideas for places to walk, and not wanting to take the nullifying action of Driving Somewhere To Go For A Walk, we decided to attempt a local walk which we'd previously done piecemeal.
For those who don't know the area, this particular walk took us deep into the darkest areas of the locale - places where you could rent a 4 bedroom house for 50p a month because everyone's too scared to move there and the natives will stab you for your ballpoint, eat your shoes then let their dogs use your skin as a blanket. There was also a skate park en route and everyone knows that kids with BMXes (BMXs? BMXi?) are sociopaths and the ones with scooters will chop you up and smoke you. We were being Properly Brave.
We began walking along a pretty bit of stream with nary a native in sight and chatted pleasantly. All of a sudden, there were some allotments and a small boy and an upside-down woman I seemed to recognise - we'd come out round the back of my Mum's allotment and she was there, digging potatoes in with Neff (she was using a spade though...you know what I mean), so we paused and passed the time of day for five minutes before continuing.
The skate park came next and some well-mannered boys and girls were cycling or scooting, taking turns and calling merrily to one another as they played. They didn't stab us even a little bit and we even managed some admiring glances in their direction as they pulled off some cool tricks. We girded our loins and walked past a man with a dog and he didn't stab us either.
Rather encouraged, we continued along to the next section and were fine - it was a piece we'd done before.
Then, at the end, we found a brand new bit (to us) which had a very pleasant horse chained by the side of the path. We sang The Proclaimers '500 miles' at the tops of our voices and marched steadfastly past it. It ignored us.
Then we came to a road. Across the road was a closed gate. It *looked* as though the walk continued beyond the gate. We scrambled through it and continued, telling ourselves that the path was clearly man-made and somewhat maintained. It must surely be the public footpath we knew to be there.
The sun shone and the water sparkled and the birds sang and we sang (we'd gotten into it by then) and were enjoying ourselves thoroughly when to our shock, the path ended on a road.
A ROAD?
My friend, with knowledge of the walk from a Girl Guides visit over 10 years ago, told me that there was definitely more to the walk than this, and it was not meant to end on a ROAD.
So I suggested that perhaps we'd missed a bit of path (which thus far had followed the stream) and proposed we find a way back into the woods and find the stream (and so the path and finish our walk).
We walked along the road until we saw a sort-of-gap where we could get back into the woods, and duly went for it.
We immediately came across a disembowelled moped and picked our way around it, traversed a swamp by stepping on fallen boughs, climbed over, under and through a few trees and holly thickets and found ourselves back at the stream, and lo and behold, there was a path!
Not the well-maintained, gravel path we'd been using before, more a sort of trodden-on bit in between the nettles, but it proved absolutely that people walked here, and, as people, we were damn well going to walk here.
At points the path petered out and we had to go around further swampy bits or negotiate areas where the banks were sliding into the stream and meanwhile the presence of abandoned tyres, a rope swing and someone's old sock showed that we were surely on the right track.
We continued to push our way through the straggly saplings, avoid the muddy bits and clamber along the path. We kept up a good pace and thought we were doing rather well. Right up until we found a verdant field ahead of us surrounded by some particularly nasty barbed wire.
Me: Oh damn. Do you know where we are?
Her: Well we might be behind the cemetery - can you see any graves?
Me: No, but there's a piebald horse and I know there's a piebald in the field near the cemetery [I was being pompous. I was also wrong - it was skewbald; brown and white - piebalds are black and white.]
Her: Shall we go through the fence?
Me: Probably not - I think there's like a countryside law or something.
Her: It looks like there's houses up there [pointing to one side] do you think the path's over there? I wish we knew where we were!
Me: We'd have to cross the stream then. Don't you have GPS on your phone?
Her: Oh yeah...
The GPS logged us to be precisely in the middle of nowhere so we decided to try crossing the stream and walked back to find a suitable place to cross, at which point I caught the leg of my trouser on some barbed wire half-buried in the ground and in trying not to fall over, ripped a hole in the leg and got a nettle stuck up it as my foot came down to balance me. I'm very macho though, about little things like
Me: You know those videos of kids on Youtube trying to cross a stream?
Her: The ones where they always fall in?
Me: Yeah, those...
I jumped, with the agility of a mountain goat onto the shingly bit, gallantly gave my friend my hand to help her down, then stuck my leg up on the other bank, braced myself and prepared to help her jump.
In our defence, the bank was slick and muddy and considerably higher than we were in the stream bed, but in the sudden scuffle that followed, somehow she ended up face-down on the muddy bank with both feet in the middle of the stream, giggling.
Attempt #2 went more smoothly until we realised that *I* still had to get out of the stream bed and up the bank. I hunkered over, grabbed a tussock of grass, grabbed her hand and with a "1, 2, 3" I exited the stream bed with the lumbering inelegance of a hippo on a buttered floor.
We hiked up through leaf litter, discarded mattresses, broken glass, holly groves and more swamps to find our way firmly barred by a chain-link fence. A few minutes more exploration led us to believe that this was in fact Not A Way Out. Then it began to rain.
Me: Please don't cut yourself on any of this glass - I don't fancy ringing the paramedics to come and get us from the back arsehole of the greenway
Her: Phone's in my back pocket.
Back down the hill (arse first through the holly groves because it was steep and less prickly that way) to try to find the bit of stream we'd crossed. Which took two tries.
Getting back over was a more organised affair, because, let's face it, we'd had a practice run on the way over.
Her: You know, I'd be freaking out if I was alone. I'm glad I'm with you, but I'm never going with you again when you say 'shall we just try to find the path?'
Me: At least we're having an adventure.
Her: I suppose so.
We followed our noses and our hopes back the way we'd come, pointing out the landmarks we'd noticed ("Look, there's that half-buried lump of sofa sponge") and found ourselves near where we thought we'd come in. We walked confidently towards the houses we could see indistinctly through the trees and found ourselves in the middle of a far wetter, stinkier and less branch-bestrewn swamp. We beat a hasty retreat and tried again, this time finding the right swamp to get ourselves outta there.
We found our way back to the road and partook in a cheering snack, which I'd brought with me (a handful of Weetabix minis), brushed ourselves down and walked back via the roads, wiping the swamp mud off our shoes onto the grass verge and letting the cold drizzle soothe our sweaty brows.
Civilisation!
I didn't quite sink down onto my knees and kiss the pavement, but it was a close thing because for all my bravado, there were a couple of moments when I thought we might actually be lost in a very small section of woodland in the middle of the city...
When we arrived home, battered, weary and exhilarated from Surviving The Wilds, we found Husby and Neff playing Pokemon on DS, both of whom listened to our regalement with impassive expressions, were utterly underwhelmed and promptly went back to what they were doing.
You just can't impress some people!
Today's Ten Things of Thankfulness
1. Making it out alive! Nuff said.
2. Youtube, for letting me play my current favourite songs on a loop, for free, indefinitely (or until I get sick of them). If you didn't see Stooshe's 'Hoochi Mumma', check it out. I cannot get enough of that bass line.
3. My friend Matt, who preached a great sermon at church today about how we might need to be a little less English in our spiritual lives (less stuffy, more undignified (but in a good way))
4. My blender stick, which turned ingredients into soup. And sharing meals with friends.
5. My wonderful Mum and WonderAunty, who decided that Husby deserved special birthday treats and were able to surprise him with lots and lots of presents that he wanted - he hadn't expected so many and was overwhelmed and very touched by their generosity.
6. Being able to have a hot shower after my adventure.
7. Husby and I both being in really good moods lately and being quite playful, which I've missed. I think even the prospect of treatment has given him a bit of energy.
8. Neff, who in spite of his boyish stand-offishness and relucance to hug and communication in grunts, shrugs and facepulls is absolutely, through-and-through adorabubble.
9. My dear friends in San Francisco who sent us a beautiful 'Thank you' package from their wedding (last year) containing photos and lovely photo-frame-amazing-thing-with-pictures-embedded-in-it things.
10. My new friends and source of support and solidarity with the infertility thing in the facebook group Why NO kids? (it's a closed group, but if you're struggling with primary infertility, please join us).
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