Blogging, staples through balls, and other analogies …..

merry go

 

I am battling to blog.

It is not like I do not have a thousand thoughts running around in my head, which are screaming to get out.  I have all of that.  I have the hamster on the little wheel thing that makes that annoying squeaking sound as well.

My head is a mess right now.

I like to think that I am adaptable by nature.  I can change when shit needs changing, and I can set a new course if I have to.

But.  My anxiety and stress levels start to climb with each little adjustment I need to make.

I am best left to get on with my life with as few changes as possible, and if changes are needed, then a bit of time  between each to allow me to adjust before I make another little tweak.

I can change my course, I can set new goals, but with each amendment comes a certain level of stress and anxiety that sooner or later builds towards a bit of a cluster f&ck.

It’s really just a matter of time. As each block is added, and I do my best – my utmost – to balance it all.

It’s like playing Jenga on roller skates.  If you skate like a three year old with a broken leg.

A lot. A bit like that.

I am not going to go back and check what I last blogged about and play catch up.  Let’s just call it bygones shall we.

My rock of stability, Priv needed to leave me last month.  I managed that like a fucking demon.  I acted like it was not a problem, and I would just adjust my little sail.

Because that is me, superman without the underpants.  Or the cape.

Priv leaving was seriously an adjustment with a capital F.

I am not a fan of Christmas, especially the new version – without a husband and children.

Last year I had no idea where I was going to be and it was my turn (first turn) to have the children over Christmas, and I panicked.

Please bear in mind for the last 20 years Kennith’s family have been my family.  Long story, but my family is sort of in short supply and festivity days can be a bit like a scene from Dinner for One.

So in one foul swoop not only did I get a divorce and an ex-husband, but I managed to secure an ex-family that had been part of my life for 20 years, who now barely realise I have fallen off the side of the planet (for the most part).

There are several levels of “this fucking sucks” that I could bore you with, and I might later, so let’s take a raincheck shall we.

Last Christmas (sung to the tune of the old WHAM classic ….. I hope that sticks in your head all day now) I was a bit scared of giving the children a sucky Xmas.  I asked Kennith if he would like to take them for Christmas Day, which he did.

I swapped the day out.  I did not think ahead, I simply thought of that Christmas and what I could offer my children, and maybe also my sanity ….. and I felt it was probably better for them to be with him and his family for Christmas.

I ended up having a really lovely Christmas day at a friend of mine, but at one point I was looking out her window at the view and then I started to cry.  Not pretty tears.  Big open mouthed silent cry and shoulders heaving kind of crying that just went on forever.  Okay not actually forever, it just felt a bit like forever as I tried to do it quietly so no one else would notice.

This Christmas swung around as all Christmases do, and Kennith started talking about him having the kids for Christmas Day.  I sort of put my hand up —- tentatively —– and said “er, you had them last year, so I should have them this year…”

Kennith reminded me that I asked him to take the kids last year.

And I said, sure, but I was a bit of a fuck up last year, and I gave you the day.  Kennith has a phrase that he says which makes me want to kick him hard in the groin area (swift uppper kick, rather than a downward action) and it is “That was your choice …”

It’s the kind of thing he would say if my house burnt down and I ran in to grab the family photographs, and then complained later that I did not have a couch.  You know, because of the fire thing.

He would add a helpful observation like:  “That was your choice …”

Anyway the result is that I get 0 for 2 this year, and Kennith has the kids for Christmas Day.

To say I was a little disappointed, annoyed and frustrated does not even hint at it.  I am attempting to put on a really stiff upper lip and a vibe that I am sort of cool with this shit —- when the answer is, er, no I am not actually.

But there is nothing I can do about it.  So suck it up, and move on.

There was another issue around Christmas, that got the Christmas Day we had planned cancelled.  That was another example of me adjusting my little sail and setting a new course.  And adding some deep resentment to the picture (just when shading, not when colouring in the whole tree).

I am able to adjust — but cheese and rice the anxiety and strain starts to build without any real outlet.  I am starting to feel a bit desperate.  Possibly why I am blogging at 01h27 and not asleep.  You think?

Kennith and I are in “discussions” about the way to move forward with the house.

This requires possibly some huge huge adjustments.  Like Titanic sized adjustments and decisions.

None of them I particularly want, but I feel a bit like my balls are being stapled to a wall and I need to stop further staples being applied.

I realise I do not have balls, but it is the only analogy I have.

At the moment I feel an over riding urge to {sigh} loudly and say FUCK IT ALL – using the tune from Let it Go made popular earlier this year, but I know that my singing is going to offer one iota of a solution or relief.

As an adult you cannot slam your door and throw yourself and sulk your problems away.

You still have to get up in the morning and face some real whoppers, and make decisions you do not want to make, for results you do not want, but again …. balls stapled to a wall.

I am not heading into this festive season in a terribly festive mood.

And for that I apologise.

i hate when people

Insomnia and I are long time friends ….

Insomnia was one of the “things” I picked up during the Great Depression of 2011.

I have always been a bit of an iffy sleeper.  I go to sleep easily, but I wake up 4 hours later with my brain in a whirl whilst I work through every possible permutation of everything I said, did and nearly did in the day.

Each outcome will have a new set of possibles and then I have to work through them.

Anxiety and stress is really an exhausting friend to keep.  Demanding, needy, and never looks out for your best interest.  She is not a friend you want to get to close to, and you really do not want her stupid status updates at 23h00, 24h00, 01h00 and 02h00.

Unfortunately it is one of those thing where the more anxious and stressed you get, the less you sleep.  The more tired you are, the more anxious and stressed you get, so you are exhausted and your nerves get more frayed and you desperately need to sleep.

But you are too stressed and anxious to sleep, so your brain does not get quiet and there you are staring at the ceiling wondering if you could turn the television on, and put the sound low enough so your partner does not wake.

I have a script from my guy-in-a-white-coat that gives me a small white pill of “instant sleep.”

I am fairly sure that Sleeping Beauty took an Ivedal which may explain why she fell instantly asleep.  Possibly it was in the drinking water hence the entire castle following suit.

The downside is I get a bit of amnesia before I fall asleep, so sometimes do and say things I have zero recollection of the following day.

The upside is I sleep like the dead, and wake up each morning feeling refreshed and alert, and never lie awake trying to stop myself thinking about the blinking light on my desk, even when my eyes are closed.  Sometimes I crack one eye open to see if I can catch the blinking light out.  Being tired also makes me delusional.  More than usual.

I forgot to renew my script yesterday.

Last night I had no white pill.

Instead I got finishing a book in the hope it would make me go to sleep.

Putting the light off and closing my eyes and thinking “go to sleep thoughts.”

I counted sheep backwards, I usually start at 1001 and work my way to 1.  I never get to 1, I get bored around 950.

I think soothing thoughts, calming thoughts, I take deep breaths and try to relax.

At 1am I realised this was really not working.  I put on my daggiest bathrobe, traipsed downstairs and did some work.  I climbed back in to bed at about 5am, watched a bit of tv and tried to fall asleep.

The sleep fairy snuck by at about 06h50 and blew “instant sleep” in my face.

Connor had to scream “MOM, you need to get up we are going to be late!!!”  After the third time, I got out of bed, bleary eyed and punch drunk.

I could easily be an extra on The Walking Dead right now!

It is 10h35 and I am going to make a cup of tea, find a warm blanket and see if I can quietly sink off into blissful sleep. I have no idea how new moms go through sleep deprivation and do not end up going insane

Insomnia Final

 

I have a fabulous Organics hamper to give away, but really need to be able to focus to put that together.  Promise I will do it for tomorrow, as well as announce the winner to the Disney pack ….. brain she is just too exhausted right now to do much beyond breath-aim-to-the-kitchen for tea.

 

Misophonia … and the urge to stab someone in the eye ….

I have always had a sensitivity to sound and light.  Left to my own devices, I wouldn’t have a radio on, and certain DSTV channels put me on edge, and make me stressed (more than usual).

Of course I put it down to being cranky and just being a bitch, but at some point I stumbled on misphonia.com and realised that the fact that I react to sound is not JUST because I am a bitch.

I am not arguing that I am a bitch, but the way I react to sound is even more bitch than even I find “normal.”

I do not choose to react in an extreme manner, but there are sounds that are like hearing nails on a chalkboard or teeth on wool.

I have an ACTUAL physical reaction to certain sounds.  It does not matter if I dislike or love the person, when they make certain sounds it is like a phosphorous bomb going off in my head.

Big explosion, sharp green light, and then a material that eats through flesh when it lands on it.  My reaction to sound is EXACTLY like that.  The part where my flesh gets eaten until I die is the most accurate.

I have realised I CANNOT sit with my kids at meal times – Connor knocks the fork against his teeth, Georgia eats like a savage ….and the chewing sound sets me off.  I know it should be all holding hands and meditating at meals, but I actually need to sit at a different table.

Today around 11am I made myself a bowl of muesli with yoghurt, and a cup of tea, and I went to sit in the tv room.  Not to watch tv, but so that I could close the door, and shut out all ambient sound.  I put the tv on for a few minutes and then turned it off and just sat there.

Kennith has been away for about two weeks, and before that he was away for about four weeks.  I have no issue with dealing with the house and the kids myself, I am actually extremely self-reliant and I can put my head down and do what needs to be done. But I feel like I am actually going stark raving mad.

My top sounds-to-drive-mommy-to-a-Zoloft-script are:

1. Georgia’s high pitched voice that does not stop.

2. Connor has a particular whine when he whines … he goes “Moooooommmmmmmie” and it sets my teeth on edge.

3.  I have a bird who has now been flying against my dining room window for 8 weeks – I have blocked out windows with paper and masking tape, I have fitted fine gut netting which is actually really cruel to catch birds in, I have tried cut out of ferocious looking birds on the windows, I have gone out and sweared at the bird like a drunken whore, I am at my wit’s end.

4.  Isabelle calls “muuuuuuummmmmmmmmmm” when she needs me to do something with her. I am her glorified hand servant.  Having your child call you is really sweet. 10% of the time. Right now I want to get the large kitchen scissors and stab someone.  Anyone.

5.  My kids drink from sucky bottles —- I really cannot bear it.

I need a holiday from sound.  I NEED A HOLIDAY.  I NEED TO RUN AWAY JUST FOR A BIT, because seriously I am going absolutely frkn crazy.

I realise I sound like someone who is about to lose their mind, or should be on a stronger brand of antipsychotics, but I can’t quite express who I feel like my head is going to implode.  I can “do sound” up to a point.  About the point where I cannot do sound.  Which is about right now.

The next person who tells me “to just get over it” is going to get a blunt broken wine glass in the temple.

Know a place I can holiday for about two weeks, cheap with really controlled sound?

The Mindful Way through Depression …..

I am not big on reading self-help books on depression or anxiety.  Partly because I think most of them are shite, and secondly because my filter system between other people’s issues and mine gets a bit hazy, and too much seeps over to my corner of the garden.

If I had to immerse myself in a book about someone and their issues, it would only be a matter of time before I started exhibiting the same issues.

I am funny like that.

That being said, on Saturday I stopped at The Book Lounge in Roeland Street, primarily to get a gift for the lovely Julie Hall, but whilst there I decided to spend my children’s inheritance on books.  For me.

This book titled: “The Mindful Way through Depression – Freeing yourself from Chronic Unhappiness” by Mark Williams, John Teasdale, Zindel, and Jon Kabat-Zimm jumped off the shelf at me.

I have no idea why, the cover looks like something from a really bad Jodi Picoult novel, and it is titled SELF HELP/PSYCHOLOGY – which would normally have me running for the hills – or at the very least rolling my eyes in sarcasm and prejudgement.

I picked the book up, parked my rather large rump on the leather couch and read a few pages.  I did it with a slightly raised eyebrow as I was expecting the usual “decide to be happy and you will be” bullshit.

I am pessimistic that way, go figure.

The part where I knew I was hooked was the example mentioned on page 20

You are walking down a familiar street … You see someone you know on the other side of the street … You smile and wave.  The person makes no response … just doesn’t seem to notice you … walks right past without any sign of recognizing your existence.

Question:

How does this make you feel?

What thoughts or images go through your head?

The example illustrates the ABC model of emotions.  The A is the facts of the situation.  B is the interpretation we give to the situation, while C is our reaction.

Logically one can work through this exercise and come up with the possibility that the person on the other side of the road was listening to his iphone and you could not see the earphones, and he did not see you.  Or maybe he was really distracted as he was thinking about a fight with his wife earlier in that day, and did not hear me, or notice me.

That is logic.  All of those are possibilities.

Me = immediate hot flush to my face, shoulders and chest and I start to feel this gnawing feeling that the person did not “not see me” he did.  But he ignored me because I had slighted him or I had upset him, or I done something to offend him.  But I had done something to upset/annoy/alienate him, and now he was angry at me.  Why do I do this to people?  What the hell is wrong with me?

{you can see I get totally lost in the interpretation of a situation, and tend to see the bubonic plague and the big bad wolf in everything}

Today is Monday night, and I still feel bad that the guy on the other side of the street did not acknowledge me.

Please let me bring you back to the fact that this did not happen to me, it was merely an example in an introduction of a book.  But since Saturday I have been running through the ways I could have offended this person.  This imaginary person.  On a street I have never walked on.  A greeting I never made, because it is fiction.

Crikey moses!!  Does this give you some idea of how warped General Anxiety Disorder is and how really ‘out to lunch’ my thought process is?

I am going to sit here and sip my wine, and wonder whether my script can be filled yet, and whilst I wait think a bit more about the “guy on the other side of the street and what I have done to hurt his feelings…”