Source Unknown

I feel really sick.  Sorry, that's not the topic of today; I don't know what the topic of today actually is, but it's not that.  I just thought I'd state a [pretty boring and pointless, yet honest] fact, particularly if this post ends being short because of it.  Although, this post may well be very succinct anyway, on account of the fact I don't feel I have anything much to say… Figured I should write something, as it's been ages, and I don't want to get lazy, but then I don't believe in blogging for the sake of it either.  So I'll try to make this slightly interesting, for all our sakes.

I haven't achieved very much since my last post; I've spent most of my free time proof-reading my niece's BA dissertation, which has taken a fair few hours, though it was only 10,000 words.  Other than T, no one has ever asked me to proof read an essay before, and it's really hard.  I mean, I was taught the 'rules' of 'good' essay writing, as I'm sure a lot of people are, but it doesn't mean that these rules tally, or apply to all forms of academic writing.  Like, when I was at secondary school, the same one that T attended, I was never told not to write in the first person; arguably the most basic rule going, right?  I was sent off to Uni, to do a course on Journalism, ffs, with no idea how to write a decent essay. Yet, once I went into FE, after The Event, such rules were drummed into us, thank god and, I think [hope], my writing dramatically improved.  Course, just being at Uni, and having to write endless essays really does wonders for your skills, but I find it really interesting to see how differently students are taught the basics, if at all.  I mean, I was taught referencing until I could repeat the lessons in my sleep, yet the majority of my fellow university students had no idea what to do, which I believe is still the case for many new undergrads. 

I'm not saying I'm brilliantly clever, cos I'm definitely not, or that I've had the best education going, or that my way of writing is the right way, as I believe no matter how good you think you are, you can still learn from others, and improve yourself.  I'm just saying that there doesn't seem to be one umbrella system of rules for good academic writing, and it's really difficult when you move from one institution to another, or compare work from a variety of sources, to really know where you stand.  I hope the advice I gave T was helpful and, most importantly, correct, as I know how emotionally attached you can become to longer pieces of writing, and thus how difficult it can be to let others read, and potentially criticise, the work that you've put your heart and soul into.  It is a big responsibility to proof read for somebody; I don't think I really appreciated that until now, better go and thank Gloria again then!  My input was gratefully received by T though, and she did all the hard work, I merely edited, and added a few comments here and there. 

It was quite a privilege actually, that she trusted my judgement enough to let me help, but now I'm done – she's handing in today – I really should knuckle down and do some proper work for myself.  I'm supposed to be researching for my PhD, and really trying to pin down my corpus – what the hell I'm writing about – before putting together a proposal.  If I don't get the proposal bang on, then I won't stand any chance of getting a scholarship, and consequently won't be doing a PhD any time soon, so no pressure, and no half-hearted attempts.  I have to focus, grrrr – that's me being determined and driven, by the way.

Other than proof-reading, I haven't done a lot.  I've been out a bit with SB, my enabler, though that hasn't been completely smooth, as she cancelled on me last week, due to a bad back.  I don't begrudge anyone time off because of illness, and everyone deserves a holiday too, naturally, but SB has cancelled on me a fair few times since becoming my enabler, and it is more than a little concerning.  Before VW left, she promised to show SB the ropes, and give her a few practice runs on how to get me in and out the car safely and securely, yet SB postponed this arrangement a good four or five times before we got together.  It was in the back of my mind then, whether SB was taking this new role seriously as, although she's a carer anyway, maybe this job wouldn't be as important as her 'main' career.  I let it pass as, admittedly, I was desperate to make sure I wasn't left without an enabler, and the fact that I'd been 'allowed' two more hours a week, plus the increased flexibility meant that this was really too good an opportunity to miss.  Besides, when SB did begin her 'training' she was very competent and confident, and I already knew and got on well with her, so it made sense to carry on, rather than beginning the seemingly endless task of tracking down somebody else, who probably wouldn't be as flexible – because they wouldn't live right round the corner, or be free from 11 every weekday morning etc.  It seemed ideal to hire SB and, without sounding totally hard done by, it's not often that things seem to just work out like that for me; they generally take months, maybe even years of planning, and it's a stressful, exhausting nightmare.  So when things look doable, I try and go for them then and there, before the offer ends, so to speak.

It has worked out well, to some extent.  When we have been out, it's been really relaxed; we've organised everything between ourselves, and have had no real worries about when I must get home again; long as it fits in with SB's life, of course.  But, like I say, she has cancelled on me, a fair few times, if you include the initial false starts I mentioned earlier.  It does annoy me, though the times that she has let me down have never been that critical, as I've not had any real plans.  I'm waiting for that one.  I just assumed she was reliable – is anyone though, really? – and would take this job as seriously as her role as a carer.  Maybe she does really value this job, and I've asked her if she's still up for it, which she says she is, so perhaps it's just teething problems, or genuinely bad luck. 

I am gonna give her the benefit of the doubt, and see what happens; if she lets me down again, particularly if I've made important plans, then I'll definitely have to think differently.  The Wife'll probably kill me, because she told me to complain about SB's absences, but I really don't wanna lose this service.  It is just a service; I'm not attached to SB, like I was VW, so it's not the fact of losing her as a person that's the problem.  It's the fact that my family and I receive very little support as it is, which is entirely our own fault because we've always 'managed' on our own, without asking for help until recently.  Now, while I have a small amount of home care, almost as a supplement to mother – I'd genuinely accept more help, but my mother feels that, while she's here, and relatively able she should do the majority – I still have to kick and scream to get anything else.  My OT is worse than useless, and I've been waiting nearly three years for her to set me up with a hoist so that my carers are able to move me without my mother's assistance, only then can I really begin to think about 24 hour care.  It isn't fair that it should be this damn hard, and I'm getting upset now, so should probably take that as my cue to go, cos I refuse to feel sorry for myself.  That won't get me anywhere, whereas complaining and screaming blue murder might, so I'm going try the latter tactic, methinks.  Though, why should I have to??  Argh, going.

BW xxx

Round-Up

Crazy, mad-busy week this week, so today's post is a summary of all that's happened; dead exciting stuff too, you'll be hooked.

Monday

Did bugger all.  I figured I needed to conserve my spoons for the week ahead, that, and I popped a rib sneezing, which didn't rate too high on the pain scale, but I spent the day in bed anyway.

Tuesday

Worked at the museum, as per, but stayed on an extra hour as I knew I'd be meeting The Legend for a PhD-related chat, and I'd missed a couple days' work last month due to illness/malfunctioning chair, so didn't wanna take the piss.  Not that I get paid, but I'm nice like that I guess.  Felt that extra hour too, but hardly slept that night cos my rib was killing me – The Wife will tell me off after reading this; she told me not to go in if I was hurting.  I wasn't till I got home, honest! 

It was worth it though, seeing The Legend, as I knew it would be.  She loved my proposed PhD topic – well, she would; it was her comments on my MA dissertation that 'inspired' me!  Not gonna go into too much detail about my subject yet, in case somebody happens to nick it before I get there.  It's hardly finalised either, and needs a lot of polishing.  Let's just say, that I'm thinking older women in Disney films, which is pretty much as fair as I've got, too be honest!

Yeah, so The Legend approved – always a bonus – and gave me some research tips, which I'm gonna make every effort to follow up; if I do this, I'm doing it properly.  She has actually got me quite excited and determined about it; I knew if anyone would, it'd be her.  On the other hand, I'd already made up my mind that, if I'd come away from that meeting still feeling terrified – not that I'm not a bit terrified – and unsure, then I wasn't ready for a PhD yet.  Guess maybe I am, I think.  Like I say, it still scares me to death, and I said as much to The Legend, who replied with 'it is hard' – duhhh – but she thought I could do it.  She also said 'we' a lot, like 'we'll plan a proposal' – in the summer, when I'm to go back and see her – or 'we'll have great fun researching this'.  I thought this was sweet, and hope I'm not deluding myself by thinking that The Legend is really gonna see me through, and be dead supportive.  Not that I ever doubted that, but it was lovely to hear – assuming I'm right – and has made me look forward to this next, mahoosive, step.  I'd probably end up with The Legend, or HH, or both, as my supervisor(s), cos of my topic, so I know I'd be well looked after, and should get a lot out of the experience.  There's the prospect of me teaching while studying too, starting by shadowing a lecturer, then gradually doing a bit myself.  Love the idea of this; how it'll work in practise I'm not sure, depending on the practicalities, and whether students will even take to me – quite a major concern for some spoonies, I imagine.  Still, it's a challenge, and I'm not one to be overly concerned about what other people think, so bring it on.  In 19 months.  I'm not that ready.

Another thing that warmed me to The Legend was that she asked not only how I was, but how things were going at home with carers, and the hoisting/lifting saga – which I know I haven't discussed in great detail here. I will, but it'll be a ranty one, and I need to build up to it.  Anyway, aside from The Wife, Gloria and VW, none of my friends ever ask me about this stuff; how I'm really getting on, and it makes me love the people that do even more, cos they care, else they wouldn't ask.  Course, as I'm not half as close to The Legend as the above three, I gave her a slightly watered down version of events; a bit 'I'm fine' but with greater honesty, and she was very understanding, and annoyed for me – again, I will explain at a later date.

All in all, Tuesday was good, but I used a lot of spoons.

Oh, I met one of the main 'donors' to the museum too.  He was the 'partner' – in quotes as I'm not sure what kind of partner, and don't like to ask – of the [now deceased] founder, and still sends a loada film-related stuff through from time to time.  Very sweet chap, thanking me for all my 'hard work', bless.

Wednesday

Went with new enabler – referred to as SB from this point on, reckon she's passed the trial period – to see War Horse at the cinema.  Awesome, tragic film, though I didn't cry, surprisingly, thought I'd be a wreck.  I think, probably, had I been at home, in the comfort of my bed, I would've bawled.  Gok Wan had me going a couple weeks ago; I will cry at anything, but don't cry in public.  It's not that I won't, cos I was quite prepared to on Wednesday, and wouldn't have minded a good ol' cathartic weep, but I just don't.  Much. 

I'm really hoping to be able to go to the cinema way more often, now I've got SB; I went once in 2011, and I am a Film grad.  Sorry, Post-grad *grins*.  Apart from anything else, it's great to do something normal – for non-spoonies – that I don't often get the opportunity to do.  Mother moaned at me for making SB drive me to Tesco first, to get supplies – yup, I smuggled in; so sue me – cos of the effort of getting me in and out the car.  SB was ok about it, I'd checked with her numerous times while we were making the arrangements, and we've got it down to a fine art now, pretty swiftly too.  No problems.  To be honest, and I've noticed this when I've gone out with VW, mother seems to get dead touchy – shitty – with me before I go out.  It's probably just a slightly heightened way of nagging me; maybe she's nervous about me going out without her.  I can't help thinking though, and this is gonna sound awful, but maybe she's jealous that I'm choosing to do these fun, normal things with someone else… I expect I'm totally wrong, and I'm sure she understands that I need people like VW and SB to keep me bloody sane!  Almost sane.

I'd had to get up early – earlier than normal – as mum went to my sisters', and going out used a lot of spoons, as I was sitting for a good six hours – following Tuesday's longer stint, and little sleep, so I was pretty knackered Wednesday night.

Thursday

Had my haircut, no biggie… Yeah, actually I hate getting my hair cut, and I always felt like a bit of a twat, as I know a lot of people find it very relaxing and enjoyable.  However, after reading Christin Miserandino's Spoon Theory, I can imagine this task could be difficult for other spoonies, and had a tweet from someone this week to confirm this. 

Following my spinal fusion op at the age of six, I can't sit upright unaided, or hold my own head up.  So, when it comes to the hairdessers', I need someone – mother – to do it for me.  Leaning forward, even for a matter of a few minutes, kills my back and neck; probably cos the muscles don't get used much.  It takes less than 20 minutes to have my hair cut, but I'm left aching and exhausted afterwards and, coupled with Tuesday and Wednesday's exploits, I was running very low on spoons by this point.

Friday

Another early start, so no chance of earning a few spoons back with a lie in.  I did spend most of the day horizontal; either in bed, or on my sister's settee when I was there in the afternoon, but I was already so tired that any effort was spoon-consuming. 

Saturday

Today.  Currently lying in bed while dictating/typing this, so conserving some spoons, though I did go out briefly with the parentals this morning.  I'm likely gonna be able to spend the next couple days resting up, which ordinarily would fill me with dread of the threat of boredom, but I think I'm going to need that time, cos I am tired.  I must be getting old, as I obviously somehow managed a five-day week at college, back in the day.  I dunno, maybe now that I understand the Spoon Theory, I'm aware of how I feel? 

It doesn't help that I woke myself up unnecessarily early [again] this morning, after a really emotional dream about Gloria; mother had upset her somehow, and she wrote me a letter saying basically, as much as she loved me, she couldn't work with me anymore.  It's all a bit blurry, though I do remember crying a lot, but that was the gist.  It still gets me a bit now actually, thinking about it, and I'm just going to ring Gloria for a chat; though I won't be telling her about the dream.  She'll think I'm bonkers, which I probably am, though I think it smacks of needy if I'm honest.  I'd die if I lost Gloria's friendship over a row, not to mention VW or, god forbid, The Wife.  I think it says a lot that I was more upset about this dream than I was over losing K's 'friendship' last week.  But I digress, going now!

BW xxx

Short and Mad

I was intending to write about something else, way more specific, this week, but I can't seem to settle my mind on anything at the moment.  Hence, this rather short post, full of mad ramblings.

VW had her baby on Friday night; I found out yesterday evening.  I wasn't half as emotional as I thought I'd be, even when I spoke to her, but I am more excited, and proud, than I've ever been for a friend before*.  Probably because I've never been there during any other friends' pregnancies; watching it all develop, and talking about the gory details.  I've actually felt part of this; in a totally healthy, knowing-where-the-boundaries-are, kinda way, and hope that I can watch little Charlie boy grow up; which again, I've missed out on with friends.  I'm not as broody as I thought I'd be either, hurrah!  I think I've got over all that and, while I still think having a baby must be incredible, I'm not as hung up about me having a baby.  Aside from @sarahwithstars, who knows how much she means to me, VW has become one of my closest friends, and I guess it could seem that I'm living the baby thing vicariously though her.  Maybe I am.  I think I've come to realise, with a little help, that there are other things in life, besides s.e.x., and children and, as a spoonie, I've got to focus on the things I can do, rather than those I can't/might not.  Also, I think mother might have twigged how I've been feeling, though I thought I'd hidden it pretty well, cos yesterday she was talking about the practicalities of how I could hold Charlie.  I dunno, it's just the way she said it, like she felt a bit sorry for me, and that at least VW might let me 'borrow' her baby for a bit.  Borrowing is fine by me now though, I need my sleep!

Dad had the 'your mother and I aren't going to be around forever' talk to me yesterday, in regards to what I was doing about a PhD.  Dad isn't one for serious convos; in fact, he isn't one for any type of convo, due to a brain injury he suffered years ago, followed by hydrocephalus, which totally affected his social interaction skills.  So when he does try to talk to me seriously, I do make the effort to properly listen, even when I don't agree.  He said he wanted to see me doing something I enjoyed, and that I'm interested in, beyond the four walls of our, rather bijoux, bungalow, and that a PhD would mean me getting a job in a place I'm already happy and confident in., i.e. the University. 

Now, I dunno whether my parents are a bit naïve, or just very optimistic, cos obviously a PhD does not guarantee a job.  It's definitely a step towards becoming a lecturer, which I'd love to do, or a researcher, which I could do – though this strikes me as a pretty lonely career; surely one of the main aspects of spoonies achieving employment is the social side? – But it's not a guarantee.  Yes, a PhD would give me something to do for the next three years, and would hopefully lead on to something, but I can't justify putting myself through all that as a cure for boredom, and if nothing came of it in the end, I'd be gutted.  That realisation has just hit me as I typed it; not that I might not get anything after a PhD – I'm not stupid, I know the score – but how I'd feel about that.  Not great, judging by how I'm feeling right now, simply imagining it! 

On the other hand, I've always quite liked the idea of teaching – I am from a family of teachers, though I'm adopted… Nurture 1: Nature 0 – and I think I'd be best suited at the further education level; where students are a bit more… accepting.  Teaching is one of the few careers that I can see really fitting around my disability, though I would still need some support.  So why the hell don't I just get on with it?!  I'm nearly 26, and I've never had a 'proper' job.  I could totally do this.  I think… I even wrote down a title that I'd quite like to use yesterday, with three bullet points, and it wasn't all that scary!  Other people believe that I can do it too, which is very flattering, but a lot of added pressure not to fail, and are waiting for me to come knock on their doors for a chat.  Maybe I will; have that chat I mean!  It can't hurt to talk this all through to someone who can tell me all the gory details.  Talking to Bill was really helpful the other week, and I thought that I'd be even more honest with HH – my amazing MA supervisor – or The Legend, who were both aware how tough I found things last year.  I might just do that; even to just put all these crazy, mixed up thoughts, into some kind of order.

BW xxx

* I mean proud in relation to a friend reproducing here.  This is not the most proud I've ever been of a friend; that accolade goes to The Wife, particularly referring to the well-deserved news she gave me last night but, in general, that girl just makes me bloody proud!  Thank god I've had her to discuss all the above with too, cos trust me, my blog posts would be even more garbled without her.

Job's Worth

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not sitting here twiddling my thumbs, hell no; I have A Job.  I know, right?  Shocking.

While I was researching my dissertation, I spent a bit of time in the campus' very own Film museum, and figured I might as well ask the curator, Mr Wickham (HH's equally awesome husband) for a job.  I've known for ages that the museum takes on volunteers, and was always tempted to sign up, but didn't think I'd have been able to manage that along with the degree/MA.  Looking back, I know I wouldn't have been able to do both.  I'd already decided I wasn't gonna do the student thing for a long, long time after finishing the MA, but kinda worried I was gonna miss the security of knowing exactly where I was, and who I was with.  Everyone at the University had been so amazing that, although I was saying goodbye to some extent, I wouldn't have to leave completely.  I know that sounds a bit pathetic, but when you've built up that much trust and confidence, it's difficult to leave it all behind.  Also, maybe I felt that by not completely leaving, I'd have loads of support, and [free] resources, on tap, in case I ever wanted to come back.  That, and I'm hoping that, if I show enough willing, this job might lead to something more permanent.

Luckily, Mr Wickham said yes, and I am now Chief Cataloguer [self-titled] of The Robin Allan Disney Archive.  I'm ashamed to say I don't yet know a lot about Allan, other than he has written books on the history of the Disney studios including, most famously: Walt Disney and Europe: European Influences on the Animated Feature Films of Walt Disney (1999). 

During his research, Allan met with animators, and others associated with Disney, and subsequently donated a load of his findings to the museum.  There's tons of it; from newspaper clippings, to greetings cards designed by the animators themselves – Eyvind Earle, Mary Blair are two I can remember off the top of my head.  Cos I happened to write 20,000 words on Disney, Mr Wickham automatically set me the task of working on this archive.  So not complaining, it's brilliant!  Course, some of the stuff is dead tacky, and not really that interesting, but most of it is great – and very pinchable; not that I ever would, natch.  Really though, it's not what I'm working with that's important, it's the fact that I'm working with it at all.  Alright, so I don't get paid, which to some means that it's not a 'proper job', but it's still a job.  It's still a responsibility that requires at least half a brain to manage; if I got the item numbers mixed up, then the consequences could be catastrophic... Well, it would make it very difficult for someone searching for an item within the archive anyway.  I have to write a brief description for each item and, while I'm not going to win any literary awards, I was pretty proud to see my first few entries go up on the online catalogue.  Even more proud to see a small article go up on the museum's Facebook page - I'm a slave to modernism. 

Yeah, so I'm pretty happy in my work, and I think Mr Wickham is relatively impressed with what I'm doing.  Bless him, he's marvellous.  He's always making sure that I'm OK, and asking if there's anything else he can do to make things easier.  Such an atypical bloke.  He's so calm and quiet too, possibly HH's influence, but the museum does seem to descend into chaos whenever he's not there.  Hope he doesn't read this, cos that might worry him.  I mean comparatively speaking, of course.

Working one day a week, unpaid, at the university where I studied for four years may not seem such a big deal to a lot of people, but for me it is.  I've had jobs before, paid jobs actually, but I've never gone out to work; with the exception of a quarterly meeting for a disability magazine I used to write for.  A lot of my friends are all 'Ah, that's good, well done you', and I think 99% of them really do mean it.  Without assuming too much, I reckon Gloria for one is pretty proud, from what I've gleaned from @sarahwithstars.  Actually, just remembered; the museum had a children's fun day last October, to which Gloria came down for a visit.  I rang her a few weeks later with my MA results – so it was a pretty emotional conversation anyway, and I can't remember much of it, annoyingly – but I do remember her saying how well she thought I'd done that day, and how confident and happy I seemed.  Gloria is just the best ego booster ever, she should be bottled. 

Anyway, so I know I have the support of me crew at least.  Not so sure on the family.  I mean, of course they're proud by default, but whether they're as made up about it as I am, and my friends are, I'm not sure.  Mum keeps referring to it as my 'little job' in conversation, which grates on me just a tadge.  Alright, so I'm not on the brink of finding a cure for cancer, but at least I'm making some effort to do something with my life, rather than hanging around at home, annoying her – I can do that the other six days a week.  I dunno, I'm probably reading too much into it, as per.  She is disappointed that I'm so anti-PhD, and maybe thinks, like I said in my last post, that she won't ever see me graduate as a Doctor.  Honestly, are two graduation ceremonies not enough for some parents?  Not that we've been to the second one yet, it's next Saturday (21st).  Big day.  Big day.  So much bigger than the last one.  Not just in terms of the qualification being higher, but after everything that happened in 2011, and the worry that I put everyone through, let alone myself; this means hell of a lot more than the degree did.  God, I may even cry… If Gloria does – and she's sitting right up front with us this time – then I don't hold out a lot of hope.  It'll be good to see Floella Benjamin OBE (the university's Chancellor) again too.  Got a feeling she might recognise me – not being big-headed; I'm the only one in the Department in a wheelchair.  Thinking of greeting her with 'Hey, we have got to stop meeting like this!'

BW xxx

2011 in a Nutshell

Bloody hard work!

No, don't worry, that's not it.  I know I've been very, very absent over the past 11 months - has it really been that long?  Man - But believe me, I've had my reasons.

OK,where the hell to start?   Maybe where I left off last February  So, I had counselling, and it was good.  Seriously.  I didn't need to freak out about it, story of my life; maybe my New Year's resolution should be 'I Will Not Freak Out'.  Yeah, that'll work.   Anywho, although it wasn't face-to-face, and therefore may not be considered as 'real', or 'proper' by some, including me at first, I'll admit, it really was helpful.  Just being able to write everything down, all my deepest, darkests, and know that the person reading it was not gonna judge, or criticise what I had to say, was marvellous.  That, and the fact I wasn't burdening yet another friend with my baggage.  I mean, really, I could've got a similar effect if I'd just carried on blogging... wait a minute, now I realise!  D'oh.  But at least with the counselling, I was guaranteed a response from a pro - I assume - who, while not allowed to give advice, was able to guide my ramblings into some form of cohesive logic.  Yeah, she must've been a professional, cos no one else would've stood a chance.  I told her the whole family saga, and I was finally able to make some sense of the whys and wherefores of my crazy, messed up mind.  I've still got everything I wrote, plus the counsellor's responses.  Don't think I've read any of it since then, but it's almost comforting to know I can look back at it all again if I ever need to.  Remind myself that it is do-able.

I didn't keep up with the mentoring, which I did feel a bit bad about, as everyone had gone to so much trouble to put me back together again, when I was blatantly cracking up.  I just found that, by releasing all the stress and emotions over the family issues, everything else seemed to fall into place.  I genuinely had a light switch moment; when one day I just felt better, in control, like I could actually do this.  It was still hard, and I had my bad days, still do, but at least I didn't feel so shit-scared and alone.  Always a bonus.  So yeah, counselling, in any form; recommended.  Failing that, write everything down, diary-stylee, or even simple bullet points, or a brainstorm - love a brainstorm - so you can make sense of how you're feeling, draw connections between thoughts and events, pinpoint triggers that make you feel good/bad/ugly. 

Maybe that's one of the reasons I've started blogging again today - the second reason being to do something constructive, and not be such a lazy cow, wolf - not cos I feel crap, and need to vent, but as a preventative measure.  The counselling only lasted six or seven weeks, and I found I missed it for a bit afterwards, so what better way to make sense of my innermost thoughts and anxieties, than publicly, over the World Wide Web.  Genius.

I know I keep on about it, but I really can't get over how much better I feel now, in comparison to this time last year.  It does get better.  It's hard to believe when you're feeling rubbish, and the proverbial shoe's been on the other foot lately, with me trying to offer help to friends, so I know how difficult it is to both accept, and convince, that you will get though it.  @abbey_queenofall tweeted me the other day, saying she'd read my last post (yay, somebody does), and was currently going through similar feelings.  I hope I helped her a bit, basically by saying all of the above (in 140 characters, natch), and if reading my, somewhat garbled, ramblings makes one person feel a teensy bit better, then that's cool.  Peace out peeps, and Happy New Year!

BW xxx

NB: Next time, I'll actually explain what I've been doing for nearly a year, to account for my lack of blogging.  I'll give you some clues; it took nine months of planning, and caused a lot of pain...

So no one told you life was gonna be this way...

*Clap clap clap clap*

Ok, so my job's not a joke, as I don't have one, and I'm not broke; though I'm certainly not rich.  Nowhere near.  I wouldn't even describe myself as 'comfortable', just um, stable?  My love life definitely is DOA.  Fact.  But, all that aside, I'm using the above Rembrandts lyric to illustrate the following point: that friends are there for you, well, me anyway.

I finally shared a secret with a friend, specifically Gloria, a couple weeks ago, and it really did feel like the proverbial weight had been lifted.   I still can't really elaborate too much on what this secret is, though I suppose this blog is meant to be anonymous... Still, you never know, so let's just say I used to live with a very difficult, at times violent, family member; but I don't anymore.  Haven't told many people about this, a) it's not the kinda thing that one can easily bring up in conversation, b) other family members would be furious with me if they found out I'd been telling tales, in case the 'culprit' was put in jeopardy; God forbid.  Families have very strange ideologies don't they?  Kind of a pack mentality.  Anyway, c) it's bloody hard to talk about.

On the one hand I feel really guilty, like every time I do say something, I'm betraying certain members of my family, or pack; those that have seemingly put all this in the past, and have moved on.  Maybe I'm not a very forgiving person.  On the other hand, I feel like I should be allowed to talk about such things if I want to.  It's my right, damn it.  And aside from the whole freedom of speech aspect, I got to the point recently that if I didn't talk, I was gonna go crazy.  Again.

That's one of the many reasons why I was so messed up last year as, although this is technically all in the past, it can still so easily flare up again, with Christmas being a major catalyst.  Is it me, or does Christmas make everything like 10 times worse?  It's such a big deal to be all together as one big happy family, but the reality is that sometimes this is a Total Nightmare.  So yeah, Christmas + family issues + mountain of essays = one stressy wolf.

I went to the Mentoring session, and it was ok, not what I expected, which I think is a good thing.  I was sooooo nervous, but all I really had to do was talk about how hard I found last term, within the context of university, nothing else.  Phew.  Going again this Wednesday, expecting (hoping) for practical advice on how best to tackle this 20,000 word dissertation, which I'm still dreading.

I've signed up for counselling too, which I can honestly say I am terrified about.  I mean, I think it's about time I got some - counselling, not... anyway - but I'm freaking out.  How much do I say about, well, anything?  I know I don't have to say anything at all, but it's totally connected, and totally turning me into a raving loon, so if I don't say anything, then surely I'll be limiting how much help the counsellor can offer me, and how much benefit I'm going to get out of it.  But, and this why I rarely tell people, what if what I say gets taken way too dramatically, and they think I'm still in danger, which I'm not, for the record, but what if?  It would rip my family apart, which is why I haven't told any of them; they'd freak out that I'd dob this person in, and probably tell me that I didn't need any counselling, like they did before, after The Event.  I did need it then, I was a mess, but still, mothers know best. 

I also, plain and simply, just don't want to worry them, they've got/had enough problems, how can I add to them by raking up the (pretty recent) past?  To that end, I've told my mother, who I live with, and who is my main carer, absolutely nada.  And, as far as she knows, my first counselling session, at 9am on the 23rd, is a change of seminar time.  She could consequently 'kill' my poor innocent lecturer.  I am an awful daughter, but what else can I do?  I hate lying, though I am scarily very good at it.  This is something that I need to do by myself, for myself.  With the help of Gloria, of course, who I owe so much too; note-taker, friend, adviser, confidant, counsellor, alibi, partner-in-crime, provider of much chocolate etc.  I feel just as bad for having to get her to lie for me too, though I guess she wouldn't do it if she wasn't such a loyal pal, and for that I am forever grateful.

I guess if, like me, your life involves being totally dependent on others, the only way to achieve any form of independence is to depend even more heavily on those you trust most; in my case, friends.

BW xxx

Wanted

With Christmas fast approaching (arrrrggghhh, I know) I, along with the vast majority of the population, have been thinking about what the hell to get the nearest and dearest.  For the past couple years, I've taken to writing an itemised list of things that I'd like, and 9 times outta 10, it's paid off.  Maybe I'm a spoilt brat, but I never ask for the Earth, just the odd DVD (which my mother loathes buying for me), book, PS2 game etc, and it saves the annual Oscar-winning performance of: 'Wow, that's awesome.  Thanks a lot'.

This post, however, is not a 'please may I have...?' list, or even a wish list; it's a Want (with a capital W), Veruca Salt, don't-care-how-I-want-it-now, kinda list.  I was always told by my wise elders that 'I want never gets', and in the case of the following items, they're probably right.

#1 - David Tennant - c'mon, did you expect anything less?  Difficult to post I imagine, but fun to unwrap, I imagine... frequently...

#2 - A Boyfriend - preferably David Tennant, but failing that, ANYONE will do.  Well, maybe not anyone; they've gotta be able to accept me, for me, and see past my disability and many (many) oddities.  Does such a man exist??  No offence lads, but I've not found one yet.  It's not just about the sex, though I've heard it can be pretty good, I wouldn't know.  It's more about the feeling of being wanted, being needed and, ultimately, being loved.  I mean, I know I am loved, I get that impression quite often; from my friends, but it's never in that way... Least I don't think it is... I keep having visions of ending up like SuBo - only without the amazing voice - I'm already half as bonkers.

#3 - A Baby - said all this before, and ideally I need Item 2 first, though these days... Anyway, yes, super broody.  Nearly all my closest friends have now reproduced and, while I'm beyond happy for them, and think all their children are gorgeous, it does remind me of what I don't, and might never, have.  I don't even know if I could, physically like, but it'd be nice to find out.

#4 - A Job - I'm 24, and I've never had a full-time job.  Fact.  I have worked before; I've been a local correspondant on a Disability magazine, but we only met quarterly; I've been a volunteer classroom assisstant and support worker at my secondary school, which I loved, but it was only voluntary; and I've written small articles for a couple of local newspapers, but they were always about me, I wasn't actually working for anyone.  I love working with people, and I think I wanna teach (Film or Media Studies pref), but then I like the idea of working within the (rather vague) world of student support.  So really, I have no concrete idea of what I want to do.  There's also the small fact that, whatever I do, I'm gonna need support, and I don't know how the hell that would work, or even if it's remotely possible.  Had hours of endless fun thinking about that one,

#5 - Gas and Air to be available on prescription - have had it on two separate occasions now; once after breaking my arm, then as a result of The Event.  It is some seriously good shit but, and please take note ladies, it does not take the pain away; just makes you feel so stoned that you don't care how much it hurts, or how much you scream.  Now, who doesn't want their own personal supply of Entonox in their home?

#6 - A Hug - physically an impossibility for me, as I'm likely to shatter into a thousand pieces, which I know from experience, hurts.  But still, it would be nice sometimes, and of the many things I can't do, it's the one thing I wish I could.  Well, there are some other things...

BW xxx

PS, found out Dark Handsome Stranger's full name, so am now free to stalk him on Facebook, hurrah!  Though, this does mean that I've discovered he has a girlfriend, boo hoo.  Oh, and he's younger than me.  Brilliant.  Now I just feel like a perv, an old perv at that.