I've had a difficult weekend.
A really difficult weekend. I have learned things about myself this weekend and suffered with a depression that I have never known before and I wanted to tell you about it.
Mental health is a taboo subject. We all want to pretend, if you will, that our lives are brilliant and full of joy, love and laughter and the shitty mundane things never get us down and things never get on top of us.
In the world of social media gone mad, no one much admits anymore to having difficult days. Facebook status' are full of happiness, and loving, and fun, and happy times. No one really wants to tell the world they are actually having a crap time. But I have. Had a crap time. This weekend. (although, agreed, I didn't write a facebook status about it....)
For the last couple of weeks I haven't felt right. I can't quite put my finger on it but I haven't felt right. Really out of sorts. And snappy, really snappy. I put it down to tiredness because I can. But deep down I knew that it wasn't that. I was apologising to Jurgen far too much for reacting badly to things he had said. And I knew that I had reacted badly. Poor Jurgen didn't know if he was coming or going.
It all sort of came to a head this weekend and I had a light bulb moment too.
Saturday night I felt desolate. I mean lost. Devoid of emotion and carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. Couldn't see past the day. Didn't want to see past the day. Didn't want to return to work. Didn't want to get up the next day. I mean, seriously worrying shit. And the scary thing was I knew that I was having these feelings and couldn't work out where they had come from, or why they were happening but continuing to fell really bad, almost suicidal.
I went to bed and couldn't scrape my feelings from the bottom of wherever it was my feelings were. It was painful and really difficult for me to grasp. But the weight, bearing down on me was unbelievably heavy.
Sunday morning I woke up feeling exactly the same. I was really teary and still couldn't function properly. Jurgen couldn't understand what was happening and everything got a bit too much.
It finished in a crescendo of tears and snot and stuff. But holding onto Jurgen I emptied my entire body of its fluid through my eyes and cried and cried until I couldn't cry anymore.
So, we had a chat and I was wracking my brain as to what was different. I wasn't having marital problems, financial problems, teen problems. NOTHING had changed but yet my mood was dangerously low.
And then my lightbulb moment. My doctor had recently changed my birth control pill. I had been on my existing one for years and years and then suddenly they were discontinued and I had to change. That was four weeks ago. About when my mood changed.
I reckon I have been pretty good at covering it up. Cheery and bright to the outside world but difficult and moody to those I love most in the world.
Jurgen said that I am always so positive, always the fighter, always the joker. And he couldn't cope with the change, didn't know how to cope with the change. Just kept hugging me over and over and telling me that he was here for me....that he was working for me and not against me. I could hear him, I could feel him but I still wanted to kill him....
Today, I felt slightly better. I made an appointment with the doctor and I am going to ask to have my pill changed again. To be honest I would prefer to have 10 more children than to feel the debilitating inner pain I felt this weekend.
I have never had mental health issues before. I have had mild PMT but I have never ever suffered like I have this weekend. Its been torturous for me and my family.
Some people deal with this daily. Some people live their whole lives feeling like this. What I found totally overwhelming was I was aware of the change in my feeling but couldn't shake it and knew, without doubt, I was being irrational. Its scary to know that you don't want to feel like that but cannot do a damned thing to stop it.
I think I am coming out the other side. I have a goal of the doctors appointment and I hope this is a temporary glitch.
I can't tell you if it will be.
Even those of us who are always laughing, joking and always seeing the glass "half full" can suffer. But we should talk about it more. We should share it more and make it an ok subject to talk about. I want to talk about it. In fact, blogging about it has been a positive for me.
Mental health issues are out there. And in the world of the ever increasing social media sites we shouldn't be afraid to tell the world. That occasionally we want to get off the merry go round. Even if it is just for ten minutes....
Monday, 27 January 2014
Wednesday, 22 January 2014
Hayley
With the massive Coronation Street story line of Hayley Cropper choosing to take her own life being prevalent on my mind this week.. it got me to thinking.
I never actually saw the episode. I just couldn't watch. I am a massively emotional person at the best of times and can cry at a drop of a hat so I didn't need to see something that was guaranteed to have me sobbing uncontrollably like a member of my own family had died.
I admit, I do have a bit of a problem with storylines such as these. I'm all for being entertained and I appreciate gritty acting and real life stories. But I am wrestling with my conscience over these emotional scenes that we put down as "entertainment".
Jurgen and I had a chat about it all afterwards. And he asked the question if I would help him end his life if he was diagnosed with a terminal illness.
How do you answer that? My gut reaction is that I would do anything for him, so of course I would do this. I wouldn't want to see him suffer so what's the problem?
Here's my problem.
I am too bloody selfish and far too scared.
Imagine if you will the reality of assisting to watch someone die or at the very least watching them help themselves. Could you? Really? Administer the fatal overdose. Watch THEM administer the fatal overdose. Hold their hand while they passed...
The whole thing is far too overwhelming for me. When my dad died, he died a painful, undignified death that most cancer sufferers do. And as a young teenager I was adamant that , if I was given the choice, I would help someone to die. I was a massive advocate for euthanasia and was very passionate about my views. I mean, you wouldn't let a dog suffer like that would you? The dog would have the saving grace of the vets injection.
But now? I'm not so sure.
I absolutely respect the persons right to choose to die. Absolutely. I think that we should be allowing euthanasia as a dignified choice. For those that are armed with the facts, are of sound mind and have an unbearable terminal illness.
But while it isn't legal I couldn't deal with the consequences of helping Jurgen ( or anyone else for that matter) to die.
And, as I mentioned earlier, I am far too selfish.
I have a fear of death. I'm no longer sure if its a healthy fear. I have lost four close family members in my lifetime and that is quite a lot. Death has always been quite a big part of my life, if that makes sense.
I probably think about it a little bit too much. My greatest fear, in fact, is leaving my children without a mum, and them growing up without me in their lives. I am sure this relates to everyone but it is a proper fear of mine that I have had occasional sleepless nights over.
So, back to would I help Jurgen?
Jurgen is my whole world and I genuinely don't know how I would cope without him. We do everything together. My world genuinely revolves around him and my children. And having seen my mum struggle massively with the loss of my dad, this is also a massive fear for me. Being without him. Forever. I really want to say yes. You know, be the supportive wife that would do anything for their other half. But, if I am honest I don't think I could do it.
I really really hope that none of us, ever, have to make the decision. None of us have to be as brave as Roy Cropper and make the harrowing decision to watch the ones we love die.
I don't want the responsibility of the decision and I hope that I never have the responsibility.
I do however, hope that we get the chance to debate euthanasia and its ups and downs, if you will. A good old fashioned debate that then allows the freedom of choice about this emotive topic...the freedom of choice to be yours.
I never actually saw the episode. I just couldn't watch. I am a massively emotional person at the best of times and can cry at a drop of a hat so I didn't need to see something that was guaranteed to have me sobbing uncontrollably like a member of my own family had died.
I admit, I do have a bit of a problem with storylines such as these. I'm all for being entertained and I appreciate gritty acting and real life stories. But I am wrestling with my conscience over these emotional scenes that we put down as "entertainment".
Jurgen and I had a chat about it all afterwards. And he asked the question if I would help him end his life if he was diagnosed with a terminal illness.
How do you answer that? My gut reaction is that I would do anything for him, so of course I would do this. I wouldn't want to see him suffer so what's the problem?
Here's my problem.
I am too bloody selfish and far too scared.
Imagine if you will the reality of assisting to watch someone die or at the very least watching them help themselves. Could you? Really? Administer the fatal overdose. Watch THEM administer the fatal overdose. Hold their hand while they passed...
The whole thing is far too overwhelming for me. When my dad died, he died a painful, undignified death that most cancer sufferers do. And as a young teenager I was adamant that , if I was given the choice, I would help someone to die. I was a massive advocate for euthanasia and was very passionate about my views. I mean, you wouldn't let a dog suffer like that would you? The dog would have the saving grace of the vets injection.
But now? I'm not so sure.
I absolutely respect the persons right to choose to die. Absolutely. I think that we should be allowing euthanasia as a dignified choice. For those that are armed with the facts, are of sound mind and have an unbearable terminal illness.
But while it isn't legal I couldn't deal with the consequences of helping Jurgen ( or anyone else for that matter) to die.
And, as I mentioned earlier, I am far too selfish.
I have a fear of death. I'm no longer sure if its a healthy fear. I have lost four close family members in my lifetime and that is quite a lot. Death has always been quite a big part of my life, if that makes sense.
I probably think about it a little bit too much. My greatest fear, in fact, is leaving my children without a mum, and them growing up without me in their lives. I am sure this relates to everyone but it is a proper fear of mine that I have had occasional sleepless nights over.
So, back to would I help Jurgen?
Jurgen is my whole world and I genuinely don't know how I would cope without him. We do everything together. My world genuinely revolves around him and my children. And having seen my mum struggle massively with the loss of my dad, this is also a massive fear for me. Being without him. Forever. I really want to say yes. You know, be the supportive wife that would do anything for their other half. But, if I am honest I don't think I could do it.
I really really hope that none of us, ever, have to make the decision. None of us have to be as brave as Roy Cropper and make the harrowing decision to watch the ones we love die.
I don't want the responsibility of the decision and I hope that I never have the responsibility.
I do however, hope that we get the chance to debate euthanasia and its ups and downs, if you will. A good old fashioned debate that then allows the freedom of choice about this emotive topic...the freedom of choice to be yours.
Tuesday, 14 January 2014
Privacy
I worked from home today. The first time ever. I thought it was brilliant. I managed to catch up on paperwork, with no interruptions .
I was busy beavering away when my mobile rang. It wasn't a blocked number (sure sign of a "seller") so I answered it.
Some poor unsuspecting soul told me that he had been passed information that I had been in a road accident lately. Now, I have never been in a road accident in my life so I knew it was one of those "compensation crazies" so I went to reply to the negative and then thought hang on......
"Yes, I have" I replied...." Yes, I broke my neck in my accident. Is that the one you are talking about?"....
Stunned silence. "Errrrr...."
" Are you talking about the one where I broke my neck and spent six months in hospital?"
Again, stunned silence.....
"No? No? Are you not talking about that one? No? Well then ...." and in slightly sweary words I told him to do one.
And before everyone gets all self righteous and tells me he is only doing his job and all that, well yeah, he is but its a massive invasion of my time and its attention, quite frankly, that I don't want. And I am pretty sure that no one does.
I really despise phone calls to my personal mobile like this. I get hundreds of automated calls telling me to reclaim PPI - never had any. Reclaim bank charges - never had one. And I am expected to be bombarded with these calls daily.
I once took a phone call from a double glazing company trying to flog me windows over the phone ( I am going back a bit) and their opening sales pitch was:
"You responded to a survey and asked us to give you a call to make an appointment...."
Errr no I bloody never. And I kindly explained that I had just had all new windows and doors fitted.
Anyway, this company rang me repeatedly for about two months, weekly, always with the same opening sales pitch. It almost became harassment and I'm pretty sure in the end they were calling because they knew it wound me up so much.
In the end I made an appointment for a bloke to visit. They were over the moon. I made the appointment for one evening and they told me the man was visiting from Southampton and what his name was etc, etc. On the day of the appointment, again 20 phone calls to confirm that this bloke was visiting. Phone calls to say he was visiting from Southampton. Phone calls to ask if I was in. Phone calls to tell me he was stuck in traffic. They didn't bloody stop.
The bloke finally arrived and knocked on my door. I answered the door and stepped out into the street. I looked at the bloke and said
"Thanks for coming" shaking his hand "Do you think I need windows and doors?" Pointing to my newly installed ones.
He looked at all of them in turn and said, quite confused like "No".
"Thank god for that" I said "Perhaps you could tell that to the twats that have been phoning me every week for the last two months because they weren't taking no notice of me..."
And I returned to my house and shut the door in his face.
He had the rage. I mean proper shouting at me through the door. And to be fair, you can't really blame him but desperate times call for desperate measures and all that....
Then I received a phone call from an equally enraged manager and got called all the names under the sun. Surprisingly, they never did call again...
The point is this:
If I want insurance, a PPI claim, a bank charge refund, compensation after an accident I will go looking for it myself. I don't want someone to keep phoning me offering it to me....it's annoying, frustrating and, in my opinion, a gross invasion of my privacy.
So, I am now thinking up ways of playing them at their own game. Even if it is only for my own amusement.
I think you should all join me. And the next time you get one of these phone calls, and it will happen, try something different. Don't just say "no" and put the phone down. Play along for a while......
It will never stop. I know that. But everyone needs to laugh. Everyone needs to find humour in the most annoying situations.
And at least you may be able to make the invasion of your privacy slightly more bearable....
I was busy beavering away when my mobile rang. It wasn't a blocked number (sure sign of a "seller") so I answered it.
Some poor unsuspecting soul told me that he had been passed information that I had been in a road accident lately. Now, I have never been in a road accident in my life so I knew it was one of those "compensation crazies" so I went to reply to the negative and then thought hang on......
"Yes, I have" I replied...." Yes, I broke my neck in my accident. Is that the one you are talking about?"....
Stunned silence. "Errrrr...."
" Are you talking about the one where I broke my neck and spent six months in hospital?"
Again, stunned silence.....
"No? No? Are you not talking about that one? No? Well then ...." and in slightly sweary words I told him to do one.
And before everyone gets all self righteous and tells me he is only doing his job and all that, well yeah, he is but its a massive invasion of my time and its attention, quite frankly, that I don't want. And I am pretty sure that no one does.
I really despise phone calls to my personal mobile like this. I get hundreds of automated calls telling me to reclaim PPI - never had any. Reclaim bank charges - never had one. And I am expected to be bombarded with these calls daily.
I once took a phone call from a double glazing company trying to flog me windows over the phone ( I am going back a bit) and their opening sales pitch was:
"You responded to a survey and asked us to give you a call to make an appointment...."
Errr no I bloody never. And I kindly explained that I had just had all new windows and doors fitted.
Anyway, this company rang me repeatedly for about two months, weekly, always with the same opening sales pitch. It almost became harassment and I'm pretty sure in the end they were calling because they knew it wound me up so much.
In the end I made an appointment for a bloke to visit. They were over the moon. I made the appointment for one evening and they told me the man was visiting from Southampton and what his name was etc, etc. On the day of the appointment, again 20 phone calls to confirm that this bloke was visiting. Phone calls to say he was visiting from Southampton. Phone calls to ask if I was in. Phone calls to tell me he was stuck in traffic. They didn't bloody stop.
The bloke finally arrived and knocked on my door. I answered the door and stepped out into the street. I looked at the bloke and said
"Thanks for coming" shaking his hand "Do you think I need windows and doors?" Pointing to my newly installed ones.
He looked at all of them in turn and said, quite confused like "No".
"Thank god for that" I said "Perhaps you could tell that to the twats that have been phoning me every week for the last two months because they weren't taking no notice of me..."
And I returned to my house and shut the door in his face.
He had the rage. I mean proper shouting at me through the door. And to be fair, you can't really blame him but desperate times call for desperate measures and all that....
Then I received a phone call from an equally enraged manager and got called all the names under the sun. Surprisingly, they never did call again...
The point is this:
If I want insurance, a PPI claim, a bank charge refund, compensation after an accident I will go looking for it myself. I don't want someone to keep phoning me offering it to me....it's annoying, frustrating and, in my opinion, a gross invasion of my privacy.
So, I am now thinking up ways of playing them at their own game. Even if it is only for my own amusement.
I think you should all join me. And the next time you get one of these phone calls, and it will happen, try something different. Don't just say "no" and put the phone down. Play along for a while......
It will never stop. I know that. But everyone needs to laugh. Everyone needs to find humour in the most annoying situations.
And at least you may be able to make the invasion of your privacy slightly more bearable....
Sunday, 12 January 2014
Guilt
We have all now returned to normal. The children have all returned to school and I have had the influx of nightly homework hit me like a freight train and I am still in a lot of pain with it all.
I opened the book bag at the end of the day on Monday and found a load of letters from the teacher from BEFORE the Christmas break. Ooops.
I will be honest, on the last day of term, I threw the book bags under the stairs and didn't look in them again. Apparently I was supposed to. Apparently I wasn't supposed to have a Christmas break with the children. Oh no. Apparently I was supposed to plough through a double sided A4 piece of paper with "ideas" of how to keep my children occupied and make notes throughout, of all that we had done. Proof if you like that I hadn't just sat idle, picking my nose, eating cake and watching Jezza Kyle. And god forbid, celebrate Christmas.
Good god almighty. I hadn't done a thing. Not a jot of reading, no times tables and no Ancient Egyptians googling. Bloody hell. The shame. The feeling of failure. I thought it was a school holiday? It was for the teachers...but apparently it wasn't for me. Now, I get that the teachers don't get the entire holiday off, I am sure they have marking, class plans etc to sort but this vocation was their choice, no?
I then got the rage. The rage that the expectation of me to perform for my children's education was coming to this.
I reflected on the Christmas break ...
I took 5 days off from work over this time. I worked full time all other days. I had stressful prep to do on the run up to Christmas Day. (So shoot me for not reading or doing times tables.) After Christmas I went away for a long weekend. Which mainly consisted of long walks, pub lunches and good times with my family and friends. I then returned to work. Full time. The children returned to school 4 days after me.
In this time I was supposed to read, times tables, some science stuff, some Ancient Egyptian stuff and then allow Roman to return to school with some imaginative power point presentation to show to the entire class . And I did nothing.
According to Roman he has to come up with something this weekend to avoid getting some sort of low level punishment. That's pretty crap really, isn't it? All because of me and my complete inability to get motivated by a 7 year olds homework.
Don't get me wrong on a weekly basis I do shed loads of the bloody stuff. 15 minutes of reading A DAY each. Maths homework, English homework, projects and everything in between. His diary is full of work that we've done together. But I expected a break over Christmas. And I think the children need a break. To unwind, to refresh and to prepare to start all the hard graft all over again in the new year.
This weekend it really started to grate on me when I spent two hours on Saturday night doing Education City with both boys. Its too much. For me and them.
I am not a teacher. I don't want to be a teacher. I have no patience and I genuinely believe that half the time I am doing more harm than good with my 0 - 60 in three second fury when they can't answer the question first time round. And this is probably one of the major reasons I realised teaching is not for me. But here I am practically home schooling them.
I want my children to learn, I want my children to succeed and be the very best people they can be. But I don't want ALL of the responsibility of making sure this happens.
I am crumbling. Really. Crumbling under the strain of it all. I am a full time working mother of five and its all starting to get, well, a bit too much. Something has to give. And I know that this is my lifestyle, my choice. But seriously, I would have thought twice about having children at all if I knew what teaching I would have to do.
So I have decided.
I am going to try. I am. To do as much homework as we can as a family. Yes, Jurgen also takes his fair share of reading (not so much the times tables). But I am not going to make myself ill over it. I am not going to do masses of homework in the holidays. I am going to do what I can if I have the time. The time has come for me to take a stand. The homework is beating me and this is a battle I am losing. And now, I am more than happy to lose.
I really feel bad but I want my children to enjoy life and appreciate that there is time for fun as well as hard graft and studying.
And, when the blame is at my door when they are flipping burgers at Mcdonalds...I'll take it on the chin. I will apologise if that's what's needed. I will apologise that I never sat with them and did googling of Ancient Egypt on Boxing Day.
And here's hoping that they will forgive me....
I opened the book bag at the end of the day on Monday and found a load of letters from the teacher from BEFORE the Christmas break. Ooops.
I will be honest, on the last day of term, I threw the book bags under the stairs and didn't look in them again. Apparently I was supposed to. Apparently I wasn't supposed to have a Christmas break with the children. Oh no. Apparently I was supposed to plough through a double sided A4 piece of paper with "ideas" of how to keep my children occupied and make notes throughout, of all that we had done. Proof if you like that I hadn't just sat idle, picking my nose, eating cake and watching Jezza Kyle. And god forbid, celebrate Christmas.
Good god almighty. I hadn't done a thing. Not a jot of reading, no times tables and no Ancient Egyptians googling. Bloody hell. The shame. The feeling of failure. I thought it was a school holiday? It was for the teachers...but apparently it wasn't for me. Now, I get that the teachers don't get the entire holiday off, I am sure they have marking, class plans etc to sort but this vocation was their choice, no?
I then got the rage. The rage that the expectation of me to perform for my children's education was coming to this.
I reflected on the Christmas break ...
I took 5 days off from work over this time. I worked full time all other days. I had stressful prep to do on the run up to Christmas Day. (So shoot me for not reading or doing times tables.) After Christmas I went away for a long weekend. Which mainly consisted of long walks, pub lunches and good times with my family and friends. I then returned to work. Full time. The children returned to school 4 days after me.
In this time I was supposed to read, times tables, some science stuff, some Ancient Egyptian stuff and then allow Roman to return to school with some imaginative power point presentation to show to the entire class . And I did nothing.
According to Roman he has to come up with something this weekend to avoid getting some sort of low level punishment. That's pretty crap really, isn't it? All because of me and my complete inability to get motivated by a 7 year olds homework.
Don't get me wrong on a weekly basis I do shed loads of the bloody stuff. 15 minutes of reading A DAY each. Maths homework, English homework, projects and everything in between. His diary is full of work that we've done together. But I expected a break over Christmas. And I think the children need a break. To unwind, to refresh and to prepare to start all the hard graft all over again in the new year.
This weekend it really started to grate on me when I spent two hours on Saturday night doing Education City with both boys. Its too much. For me and them.
I am not a teacher. I don't want to be a teacher. I have no patience and I genuinely believe that half the time I am doing more harm than good with my 0 - 60 in three second fury when they can't answer the question first time round. And this is probably one of the major reasons I realised teaching is not for me. But here I am practically home schooling them.
I want my children to learn, I want my children to succeed and be the very best people they can be. But I don't want ALL of the responsibility of making sure this happens.
I am crumbling. Really. Crumbling under the strain of it all. I am a full time working mother of five and its all starting to get, well, a bit too much. Something has to give. And I know that this is my lifestyle, my choice. But seriously, I would have thought twice about having children at all if I knew what teaching I would have to do.
So I have decided.
I am going to try. I am. To do as much homework as we can as a family. Yes, Jurgen also takes his fair share of reading (not so much the times tables). But I am not going to make myself ill over it. I am not going to do masses of homework in the holidays. I am going to do what I can if I have the time. The time has come for me to take a stand. The homework is beating me and this is a battle I am losing. And now, I am more than happy to lose.
I really feel bad but I want my children to enjoy life and appreciate that there is time for fun as well as hard graft and studying.
And, when the blame is at my door when they are flipping burgers at Mcdonalds...I'll take it on the chin. I will apologise if that's what's needed. I will apologise that I never sat with them and did googling of Ancient Egypt on Boxing Day.
And here's hoping that they will forgive me....
Sunday, 5 January 2014
Battles
So, 2014 is no longer a new born and it's becoming old hat. I have already mastered the art of writing '14 instead of '13.
I don't make new years resolutions. I used to but found that they were broken within a day and couldn't quite see the point. When I was younger, every new year the first thing we always asked was what your resolutions were...now nobody cares. Nobody.
This year, I am changing the new year resolution adage to:
What's your new year battles?
I find that on a day to day level my life is full of "battle". And I thrive on it. My life is not complete unless I am fighting a battle no matter how trivial.
I want to decorate the lounge. I have a few ideas. I want something different. I mean REALLY different. Jurgen and I have been discussing colour schemes and I can tell he thinks there is something wrong with me. But he is far too polite (or not brave enough) to tell me. He gently tries differing my opinion and suggests other things. But I want what I want and no amount of coaxing is going to change that. And, love him, I always get what I want - its a standing joke in this house, but he needs his opinion to be heard. And I hear it and then ignore it...I think maybe I have won this battle.
I battle daily with CRAP in my house. Since Christmas you are lucky to find a seat to sit on that's free of crap. Its like an adult game of musical chairs. My lounge is drowning in a sea of toys that have no where to go. No place to live. I have no idea where I am going to put them. But, its funny because with time the toys just tend to blend in, or find a home and the problem suddenly ceases to exist. At the moment I just keep tidily putting them in piles (like that helps). I battle daily with space and crap. I need more of one and less of the other. Large amounts of crap and no amount of space makes me tetchy. I could pretend I am going to move to a bigger house. But it's not going to happen. I can't afford to move. I could pretend, for Facebook purposes, that I am a financial genius who can magic money from thin air but that would be ludicrous. I love my little house that is bursting at the seems. I am going to add to it over time but for now the space and crap issue is a battle I am never going to win, but I will die trying...
I battle with my children. Today has been the battle of the bed time. Over Christmas they have been used to going to bed when they want. We have reigned it in over the last couple of days but nothing prepares them for the "early night" before returning to school . Its a battle I never ever lose but they try their hardest to win. I battle with getting them up, getting them in the shower, getting them to clean their teeth, getting them out the door for school, getting them to do their homework, putting their shoes away and the list goes on. Its a trivial battle, daily, but a battle nonetheless.
I battle with the schools. Fort Hill being my all time favourite school to do battle with. This term I am expecting a battle because they have changed their school uniform policy four months in. How silly of them to think that I am not going to go down without a fight. Skye has the wrong shoes now and the wrong tie. I haven't bought her new ones for the new term. I bought her current shoes a week before they decided to change their policies. I will buy her new "correct" ones when these ones have worn out but when I am ready. And I will fight. With teachers who threaten to exclude her, with the Board of Governors (who know me by my first name) and with Hants County Council (who are not far off knowing me by my first name) . If I believe something is unjust I will fight. It's just in my nature.
I battle with my weight. Always have done, always will do. I have been huge, small, bigger and then small, and then bigger. I have never been thin but I have been ok for me . I am about to begin battle again tomorrow. Just to lose some of the weight I have gained over Christmas. I am just going to eat healthy and exercise normally. I am not going to kill myself over it but I know I need to do it because I feel uncomfortable. I love the new year weight battle. I do it every year. Sometimes I win sometimes I lose. Its this battle that I am happy to occasionally lose because I do love my food. And drink. And chocolate. And cake. And crisps...
Its no secret that I have battled with Jurgens family. I wont bore you again with the details but I am always more than happy to fight that battle. I am currently receiving debt collectors phone calls and letters at my home for Jurgen's family. This makes my blood boil. I have never met them and their debt is associated to me at my home... And I think you will find there is not a person in the world who wouldn't be aggrieved by this. This battle is like a bit between my teeth. And I will bite and bite like a rabid dog. I will never win. You cant win against people who don't see their own shortcomings.
I am a true battler. I am good at it. You know what makes me win, time after time? My honesty. If I believe in something then I will battle but I will do it honestly. And I am big enough and ugly enough to realise I make mistakes and more than happy to apologise when I get it wrong. And I freely admit defeat in fighting against those who lie. Its a battle I can never win. It saddens me greatly that those who choose to lie don't realise that I know they are lying and they just look a little bit more stupid than they did previously. It pains me that they think I am stupid. Or maybe they do realise I know. They MUST know I am not stupid. But they are too wrapped up in the confusion caused by their very own lies to care. The good thing for me is that the lies always become apparent. To everyone. In the end. I can't stress enough how its obvious that they lie. Really obvious. Shamefully so.
I do pick my battles carefully. I do hold a grudge and always will. I probably should learn to let go but again, its not in my nature. I am a protective fighter, an aggrieved fighter and a fighter for all that I believe to be right. I think I will always be a fighter. I can't ever see it "going over my head". I'm like my mum, who has always been brilliantly outspoken and wickedly opinionated and we have had some blazing humdingers over time due to our differing opinions but similar pig headedness.
So if I was to have a new year resolution it would be to keep battling. I am good at it. I am not letting things go, or moving on with my life. Get a grip. I am going to continue to battle with one person, one issue, one child, one husband at a time. Or all of them at the same time if necessary. I can multi task.
Its who I am. I am not going to change me. I can't change me.
And like Jurgen keeps warning me.... So what if it ends up giving me a coronary....?
I don't make new years resolutions. I used to but found that they were broken within a day and couldn't quite see the point. When I was younger, every new year the first thing we always asked was what your resolutions were...now nobody cares. Nobody.
This year, I am changing the new year resolution adage to:
What's your new year battles?
I find that on a day to day level my life is full of "battle". And I thrive on it. My life is not complete unless I am fighting a battle no matter how trivial.
I want to decorate the lounge. I have a few ideas. I want something different. I mean REALLY different. Jurgen and I have been discussing colour schemes and I can tell he thinks there is something wrong with me. But he is far too polite (or not brave enough) to tell me. He gently tries differing my opinion and suggests other things. But I want what I want and no amount of coaxing is going to change that. And, love him, I always get what I want - its a standing joke in this house, but he needs his opinion to be heard. And I hear it and then ignore it...I think maybe I have won this battle.
I battle daily with CRAP in my house. Since Christmas you are lucky to find a seat to sit on that's free of crap. Its like an adult game of musical chairs. My lounge is drowning in a sea of toys that have no where to go. No place to live. I have no idea where I am going to put them. But, its funny because with time the toys just tend to blend in, or find a home and the problem suddenly ceases to exist. At the moment I just keep tidily putting them in piles (like that helps). I battle daily with space and crap. I need more of one and less of the other. Large amounts of crap and no amount of space makes me tetchy. I could pretend I am going to move to a bigger house. But it's not going to happen. I can't afford to move. I could pretend, for Facebook purposes, that I am a financial genius who can magic money from thin air but that would be ludicrous. I love my little house that is bursting at the seems. I am going to add to it over time but for now the space and crap issue is a battle I am never going to win, but I will die trying...
I battle with my children. Today has been the battle of the bed time. Over Christmas they have been used to going to bed when they want. We have reigned it in over the last couple of days but nothing prepares them for the "early night" before returning to school . Its a battle I never ever lose but they try their hardest to win. I battle with getting them up, getting them in the shower, getting them to clean their teeth, getting them out the door for school, getting them to do their homework, putting their shoes away and the list goes on. Its a trivial battle, daily, but a battle nonetheless.
I battle with the schools. Fort Hill being my all time favourite school to do battle with. This term I am expecting a battle because they have changed their school uniform policy four months in. How silly of them to think that I am not going to go down without a fight. Skye has the wrong shoes now and the wrong tie. I haven't bought her new ones for the new term. I bought her current shoes a week before they decided to change their policies. I will buy her new "correct" ones when these ones have worn out but when I am ready. And I will fight. With teachers who threaten to exclude her, with the Board of Governors (who know me by my first name) and with Hants County Council (who are not far off knowing me by my first name) . If I believe something is unjust I will fight. It's just in my nature.
I battle with my weight. Always have done, always will do. I have been huge, small, bigger and then small, and then bigger. I have never been thin but I have been ok for me . I am about to begin battle again tomorrow. Just to lose some of the weight I have gained over Christmas. I am just going to eat healthy and exercise normally. I am not going to kill myself over it but I know I need to do it because I feel uncomfortable. I love the new year weight battle. I do it every year. Sometimes I win sometimes I lose. Its this battle that I am happy to occasionally lose because I do love my food. And drink. And chocolate. And cake. And crisps...
Its no secret that I have battled with Jurgens family. I wont bore you again with the details but I am always more than happy to fight that battle. I am currently receiving debt collectors phone calls and letters at my home for Jurgen's family. This makes my blood boil. I have never met them and their debt is associated to me at my home... And I think you will find there is not a person in the world who wouldn't be aggrieved by this. This battle is like a bit between my teeth. And I will bite and bite like a rabid dog. I will never win. You cant win against people who don't see their own shortcomings.
I am a true battler. I am good at it. You know what makes me win, time after time? My honesty. If I believe in something then I will battle but I will do it honestly. And I am big enough and ugly enough to realise I make mistakes and more than happy to apologise when I get it wrong. And I freely admit defeat in fighting against those who lie. Its a battle I can never win. It saddens me greatly that those who choose to lie don't realise that I know they are lying and they just look a little bit more stupid than they did previously. It pains me that they think I am stupid. Or maybe they do realise I know. They MUST know I am not stupid. But they are too wrapped up in the confusion caused by their very own lies to care. The good thing for me is that the lies always become apparent. To everyone. In the end. I can't stress enough how its obvious that they lie. Really obvious. Shamefully so.
I do pick my battles carefully. I do hold a grudge and always will. I probably should learn to let go but again, its not in my nature. I am a protective fighter, an aggrieved fighter and a fighter for all that I believe to be right. I think I will always be a fighter. I can't ever see it "going over my head". I'm like my mum, who has always been brilliantly outspoken and wickedly opinionated and we have had some blazing humdingers over time due to our differing opinions but similar pig headedness.
So if I was to have a new year resolution it would be to keep battling. I am good at it. I am not letting things go, or moving on with my life. Get a grip. I am going to continue to battle with one person, one issue, one child, one husband at a time. Or all of them at the same time if necessary. I can multi task.
Its who I am. I am not going to change me. I can't change me.
And like Jurgen keeps warning me.... So what if it ends up giving me a coronary....?
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