i hate my dog more of a cat person you see. it's a horrible big dark thing that cloaks me from day to day. some days the cloak gets lighter, but recently it's almost suffocating me. so instead of trying to ignore it and all it's wonderful symptoms, the tears that i hide, the anger that i can't hide, the seeing things that aren't there ect ect i have had to grudgingly go back to my medication.
enter the side effects, blinding headache, wanting to vomit and dizzy spells which are oh so fun. it's also effecting my sleep in as much as i am not really getting much of it. good old restless leg syndrome is really kicking my arse at the moment. so at night my eyes are closed my body is screaming for rest and my legs and arms are having a party that the rest of me isn't invited to.
i hate it it's frustrating that i have things in the fridge that need to be cooked and probably won't be, so will go to waste. i can't stand up for more than a few moments without feeling like i want to throw up and or pass out. in the back of my mind i have a person with a clip board telling me i have to do this this and this and i havent done any of it at all. i have about another half a week of side effects before hopefully i start feeling ok. well not sick any more ok isn't something i am very good at feeling at the best of times. but as long as the brain deadness goes and i have some energy at the end of it that will do.
Wednesday, 21 November 2012
Wednesday, 14 November 2012
the blog that makes no sense
do you ever get the feeling that your swinging from the ceiling and your pants they are revealing and this blog it makes no sense. my mind i fear has left me bereft with a bowl of shreddies no milk the fridge is empty and this blog makes no sense. these random things are streaming from a mind that is revealing while some kittens are appealing and this blog just makes no sense.
it's not poetry or creative, a tad desperate in its narrative. there is no hidden meaning it's a blog post that makes no sense.
i think my mind has broken, it is oozing little tokens from the cracks that have just opened and this blog makes no more sense.
i think i may be ill, is it time to take a pill? before sanity takes a spill in a blog that makes no sense.
depressed not dead and no my names not fred maybe i should go to bed and pull the duvet over my head and forget the things i said in the blog that makes no sense.
it's not poetry or creative, a tad desperate in its narrative. there is no hidden meaning it's a blog post that makes no sense.
i think my mind has broken, it is oozing little tokens from the cracks that have just opened and this blog makes no more sense.
i think i may be ill, is it time to take a pill? before sanity takes a spill in a blog that makes no sense.
depressed not dead and no my names not fred maybe i should go to bed and pull the duvet over my head and forget the things i said in the blog that makes no sense.
Tuesday, 6 November 2012
saying bum with a smile
Just a thought a very small thought as i have only ingested two cups of tea. I have been reading a lot of blogs quietly, thoughtfully sometimes i nod and agree, sometimes i pull a bit of a face or wipe a wet eye and wish people knew just how brave they were.
Anyway not sure what the point of this post is, but yesterday i had a good day. It was productive, things got done i ventured out and didn't have a spaz about it and the sun was out.
Now having a good day could be seen to some as just a good day, a reason to smile. When you suffer from any form of a mental illness a good day is like skipping bare foot through a field of poppies and not worrying about cow pats or hayfever. It's like climbing a mountain naked and standing at the top wiggling your lumpy bits and shouting to the world " Up your bum world today is a good day."
When your life is a revolving door of angst and emotions hit you like a tsunami and everything is raw good days are worth celebrating.
It doesn't mean your cured, it just means you had some breathing space. It doesn't mean that maybe your not ill maybe your faking it, your not.
So don't over think them, try and enjoy them for what they are. They are your little triumphs to be enjoyed. As they say a pat on the back is better than a smack round the head, well they don't i just did.
I don't do life affirming stuff but wouldn't it be fun just to stand in front of a mirror not to pull yourself a part and just say bum with a smile. You never know it might work.
and thus the pants have spoken
Anyway not sure what the point of this post is, but yesterday i had a good day. It was productive, things got done i ventured out and didn't have a spaz about it and the sun was out.
Now having a good day could be seen to some as just a good day, a reason to smile. When you suffer from any form of a mental illness a good day is like skipping bare foot through a field of poppies and not worrying about cow pats or hayfever. It's like climbing a mountain naked and standing at the top wiggling your lumpy bits and shouting to the world " Up your bum world today is a good day."
When your life is a revolving door of angst and emotions hit you like a tsunami and everything is raw good days are worth celebrating.
It doesn't mean your cured, it just means you had some breathing space. It doesn't mean that maybe your not ill maybe your faking it, your not.
So don't over think them, try and enjoy them for what they are. They are your little triumphs to be enjoyed. As they say a pat on the back is better than a smack round the head, well they don't i just did.
I don't do life affirming stuff but wouldn't it be fun just to stand in front of a mirror not to pull yourself a part and just say bum with a smile. You never know it might work.
and thus the pants have spoken
Thursday, 1 November 2012
feeling guilty
i am feeling a little out of sorts. Tonight i have seen entries in two different blogs that have prompted my brain to turn in on itself and ask the question
Why can some people write so eloquently about how they feel in an honest fashion where as i have to put a little hint of oh well life's not so bad on my things ?
I can drop little hints now and again, but then a voice inside coughs and says quietly " Don't harp on dear. No one wants to hear it."
So then we are back to cat poo. Cat poo is fast becoming a safety word. If things seem a little bit too uncomfortable CAT POO . I need to say how i am actually feeling CAT POO. i am about to be too honest about things CAT POO.
bloody cat poo.
truth is i haven't left the house since monday's journey from hell, where the only way i could stop a full blown no holds barred panic attack was to scratch three layers of skin from my left hand. The closest i have come to venturing out is standing at the backdoor. But i have to go out tomorrow and it's weighing heavy on my mind.
I don't like being me. I don't like what i have become and if i could turn back to clock to even as little as two years ago i would in a heart beat.
i see things moving dark shapes that i know aren't there. They don't scare me what does is that fact that seeing things that aren't there doesn't scare me.
no body knows this, i am a master in hiding things from everyone. They just think i am extra grumpy and snappy.
anyway like the little voice inside my head says ( or rather screams in this case ) you don't need to know this. there are so many more people who are a lot worse than i am.
CAT POO. CAT POO. CAT POO.
Why can some people write so eloquently about how they feel in an honest fashion where as i have to put a little hint of oh well life's not so bad on my things ?
I can drop little hints now and again, but then a voice inside coughs and says quietly " Don't harp on dear. No one wants to hear it."
So then we are back to cat poo. Cat poo is fast becoming a safety word. If things seem a little bit too uncomfortable CAT POO . I need to say how i am actually feeling CAT POO. i am about to be too honest about things CAT POO.
bloody cat poo.
truth is i haven't left the house since monday's journey from hell, where the only way i could stop a full blown no holds barred panic attack was to scratch three layers of skin from my left hand. The closest i have come to venturing out is standing at the backdoor. But i have to go out tomorrow and it's weighing heavy on my mind.
I don't like being me. I don't like what i have become and if i could turn back to clock to even as little as two years ago i would in a heart beat.
i see things moving dark shapes that i know aren't there. They don't scare me what does is that fact that seeing things that aren't there doesn't scare me.
no body knows this, i am a master in hiding things from everyone. They just think i am extra grumpy and snappy.
anyway like the little voice inside my head says ( or rather screams in this case ) you don't need to know this. there are so many more people who are a lot worse than i am.
CAT POO. CAT POO. CAT POO.
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
Angry Pants
Actually i'm not angry i'm absolutely bloody steaming right now. I have had enough of the uneducated trolls who think that everyone who can't work for any reason should get off their lazy drug riddled arses and find a job.Most of the time i won't bite, not quite true the tip of my tongue has teeth marks in it on numerous occasions, this time though was a step too far.
On facebook i am a member of a fantastic page called Atos Miracles. Without this page i am confident in saying that i and a lot of other people would be even more afraid about the hell that our beloved government are thinking up for us. This page is a support to anyone and everyone who is fighting Atos, who quite frankly couldn't give a toss and i have learnt a great deal from it.
So tonight while wafting through facebook as you do i come across an entry for this page. Someone who is very scared and vulnerable just asking for help and advice. I's what the page is there for. What i did not expect when i read down the comments was someone who thought that because people are on facebook that automatically implies they can work, that they are worthless scroungers. I am being a lot politer than the troll that this came from.
NOW LET US GET A FEW THINGS STRAIGHT HERE MR TROLL.
unlike you who look the epitome of hooliganism obviously treating your body like a beer ,drugs and kebab temple every weekend when your job seekers allowance comes through , we can not work through serious mental of physical illness.
we are not the idiots that grace your screens on programmes like the Jeremy Kyle show or 999 what's your emergency, those so off their heads on drink and drugs that they are no good to man nor beast. those are the people that give us a bad name.
DO NOT DEGRADE US BY CATEGORIZING THESE PEOPLE WITH US THE GENUINELY ILL.
Let he who is without fault cast the first stone. we are vulnerable people who are judged daily and shunned by others. We are judged enough by various departmental bodies what we don't need is to be judged by the great unwashed on a social networking sight. Some of us aren't strong enough to fight back.
I genuinely hope that the person who put up the question/ cry for help gets the advice that they so greatly need.
As for Mr troll my dream is that he takes a long walk off a very short cliff .
and thus the pants have spoken.
On facebook i am a member of a fantastic page called Atos Miracles. Without this page i am confident in saying that i and a lot of other people would be even more afraid about the hell that our beloved government are thinking up for us. This page is a support to anyone and everyone who is fighting Atos, who quite frankly couldn't give a toss and i have learnt a great deal from it.
So tonight while wafting through facebook as you do i come across an entry for this page. Someone who is very scared and vulnerable just asking for help and advice. I's what the page is there for. What i did not expect when i read down the comments was someone who thought that because people are on facebook that automatically implies they can work, that they are worthless scroungers. I am being a lot politer than the troll that this came from.
NOW LET US GET A FEW THINGS STRAIGHT HERE MR TROLL.
unlike you who look the epitome of hooliganism obviously treating your body like a beer ,drugs and kebab temple every weekend when your job seekers allowance comes through , we can not work through serious mental of physical illness.
we are not the idiots that grace your screens on programmes like the Jeremy Kyle show or 999 what's your emergency, those so off their heads on drink and drugs that they are no good to man nor beast. those are the people that give us a bad name.
DO NOT DEGRADE US BY CATEGORIZING THESE PEOPLE WITH US THE GENUINELY ILL.
Let he who is without fault cast the first stone. we are vulnerable people who are judged daily and shunned by others. We are judged enough by various departmental bodies what we don't need is to be judged by the great unwashed on a social networking sight. Some of us aren't strong enough to fight back.
I genuinely hope that the person who put up the question/ cry for help gets the advice that they so greatly need.
As for Mr troll my dream is that he takes a long walk off a very short cliff .
and thus the pants have spoken.
Tuesday, 23 October 2012
Because sometimes 140 characters just isnt enough
Today i went in search of cat food, not just any old cat food but the kind of cat food that none of the super markets seems to stock. I hate going out.Going out means noise and people and i'm not a fan of noise and people. But i was a hermit yesterday so today i had to venture.
First to the local post office. This is hidden at the back of a little corner shop that smells of curry and depending on the weather and time of day sweat and last nights booze consumption. If you time yourself correctly you can be in and out of there in under five minutes, if not then you are forced to Que behind the great unwashed most of whom seem to want to post parcels lots of parcels all around the world, very slowly. The more parcels the more movement, the more movement the bigger the smell. It's not pleasant.
Next the bus into town, stuffy, damp seats , old people with the added attraction of the dick head that thinks the whole bus wants to hear his phone conversation. No no we really don't care about your life, next time whisper you inconsiderate tit.
Finally off the bus and into the wall of sound. It's like being hurled head long into the rat race and then run over by several buggy's. the bank was hot, the staff unfriendly and the resident male and i were stuck behind a woman with a double buggy containing twin girls intent on killing each other loudly. One of them with gritted teeth bounced a plastic beaker off the side of the other ones head and the second small child screamed and managed to kick her sister in the side of the head. I'm still not sure how she managed to get her leg up that high seeing as she had the worlds baggiest nappy on.
Anyway off to the next shop this time to buy smelly things. we stood for a while scratching and sniffing, the air fresheners not each other, before deciding on a selection of fruity smells anything to hide the smell of cat and small boy works for me. and then home. I had been out for precisely an hour it had been a long hour, by the time we got in my head was spinning from the noise and the smells.
In forty minutes i have to go out again this time to get the fluffy one from school and throw him into his friends car to go to karate. My failed dieting is becoming even more failed. I have put in all my food so far on that fitness pal thing. I did know i was doomed when i entered a sausage roll and it laughed at me. although in other news the down stairs loo smells like an orange grove the kind of orange grove that rips your nose off and screams sniff the air i smell awsome bitch's. if that doesn't counter act the smell of small boys bottom nothing will.
and that is my day so far .
boring isn't it.
First to the local post office. This is hidden at the back of a little corner shop that smells of curry and depending on the weather and time of day sweat and last nights booze consumption. If you time yourself correctly you can be in and out of there in under five minutes, if not then you are forced to Que behind the great unwashed most of whom seem to want to post parcels lots of parcels all around the world, very slowly. The more parcels the more movement, the more movement the bigger the smell. It's not pleasant.
Next the bus into town, stuffy, damp seats , old people with the added attraction of the dick head that thinks the whole bus wants to hear his phone conversation. No no we really don't care about your life, next time whisper you inconsiderate tit.
Finally off the bus and into the wall of sound. It's like being hurled head long into the rat race and then run over by several buggy's. the bank was hot, the staff unfriendly and the resident male and i were stuck behind a woman with a double buggy containing twin girls intent on killing each other loudly. One of them with gritted teeth bounced a plastic beaker off the side of the other ones head and the second small child screamed and managed to kick her sister in the side of the head. I'm still not sure how she managed to get her leg up that high seeing as she had the worlds baggiest nappy on.
Anyway off to the next shop this time to buy smelly things. we stood for a while scratching and sniffing, the air fresheners not each other, before deciding on a selection of fruity smells anything to hide the smell of cat and small boy works for me. and then home. I had been out for precisely an hour it had been a long hour, by the time we got in my head was spinning from the noise and the smells.
In forty minutes i have to go out again this time to get the fluffy one from school and throw him into his friends car to go to karate. My failed dieting is becoming even more failed. I have put in all my food so far on that fitness pal thing. I did know i was doomed when i entered a sausage roll and it laughed at me. although in other news the down stairs loo smells like an orange grove the kind of orange grove that rips your nose off and screams sniff the air i smell awsome bitch's. if that doesn't counter act the smell of small boys bottom nothing will.
and that is my day so far .
boring isn't it.
Monday, 15 October 2012
outings with adulf ( a needs must blog )
I love monday mornings . Mostly i would love to smack them in the side of the head with a septic fish head. Mondays signify the start of five mornings of school runs, alarm clocks that play the first three bars of an annoying song and then shut off. Fluffy having to be crow barred out of his pit kicking and screaming and wailing that he " feels sick, Has a head ache, Might die "
Today was no different apart from the fact that i grudgingly had to enlist the help of adulf father to the fluffy one. Seeing as mister fluff had managed to lose half his P.E kit i had to get replacements. The only reason i had to ask adulf is he has a car and the only place that does said school uniform is in the darkest reaches of Hounslow. So this morning fluffy had been drop kicked out of the door for school, cats had been fed, shit had been scooped and washing was on. Then adulf arrived and the white knuckle ride from hell began. Adulf is a bus driver. Anyone who has ever ridden on a bus will know that these drivers well most of them like the brake pedal , they absolutely adore the acceleration pedal and tend to use the two of them is quick succession. It's no different when you are in the passenger seat of their car. The only thing that is different is that they play crap music and talk at you while you sit with your nails embedded in the seat praying for a quick death.
He missed not one but two turnings, he complained at most of the other drivers that got in his way and he farted and burped his way through the whole journey. And then we got out of the car. Adulf in his alpha male mode had a map to said shop. He pulled out the map and muttered for a moment while i was busily hitching up my trousers which had begun a love affair with gravity. I had no idea where we were going, neither did he although he had a map, added to which my trousers and my undies had decided that down was the only way to go. It is impossible to be subtle when trying to rearrange your under clothes every three steps, your pants have found a safe haven by the backs of your knees and your trousers are threatening to follow them. He asked five people for directions. Five people all pointed to different places. we were still lost and by now i really was regretting that last vat of tea i had before leaving pants palace.
Then we saw a parking attendant, adulf went in for the kill and with his usual polite way began speaking,
"excuse me mate ( burp ) can you elp us ( burp ) we're looking for this place it's somewhere round here ( sniff belch ) "
First thing the man does is take the map from adulf's hand and turn it round the other way. He had been reading it upside down for the last twenty minutes. Now with correct directions it was actually just down the road we managed to find the shop. A school jumper, a pair of school shorts , a reversible rugby shirt and two white P.E shirts later we were out. half an hour later i was home to find cats rampaging about and the resident male had finally managed to rig up sky to the bedroom. It had only taken him all weekend to get it to work. Only thing now there is wire trailing the stairs as someone miscalculated the tack to wire ratio.
I have a feeling this week is going to be a challenge.
Today was no different apart from the fact that i grudgingly had to enlist the help of adulf father to the fluffy one. Seeing as mister fluff had managed to lose half his P.E kit i had to get replacements. The only reason i had to ask adulf is he has a car and the only place that does said school uniform is in the darkest reaches of Hounslow. So this morning fluffy had been drop kicked out of the door for school, cats had been fed, shit had been scooped and washing was on. Then adulf arrived and the white knuckle ride from hell began. Adulf is a bus driver. Anyone who has ever ridden on a bus will know that these drivers well most of them like the brake pedal , they absolutely adore the acceleration pedal and tend to use the two of them is quick succession. It's no different when you are in the passenger seat of their car. The only thing that is different is that they play crap music and talk at you while you sit with your nails embedded in the seat praying for a quick death.
He missed not one but two turnings, he complained at most of the other drivers that got in his way and he farted and burped his way through the whole journey. And then we got out of the car. Adulf in his alpha male mode had a map to said shop. He pulled out the map and muttered for a moment while i was busily hitching up my trousers which had begun a love affair with gravity. I had no idea where we were going, neither did he although he had a map, added to which my trousers and my undies had decided that down was the only way to go. It is impossible to be subtle when trying to rearrange your under clothes every three steps, your pants have found a safe haven by the backs of your knees and your trousers are threatening to follow them. He asked five people for directions. Five people all pointed to different places. we were still lost and by now i really was regretting that last vat of tea i had before leaving pants palace.
Then we saw a parking attendant, adulf went in for the kill and with his usual polite way began speaking,
"excuse me mate ( burp ) can you elp us ( burp ) we're looking for this place it's somewhere round here ( sniff belch ) "
First thing the man does is take the map from adulf's hand and turn it round the other way. He had been reading it upside down for the last twenty minutes. Now with correct directions it was actually just down the road we managed to find the shop. A school jumper, a pair of school shorts , a reversible rugby shirt and two white P.E shirts later we were out. half an hour later i was home to find cats rampaging about and the resident male had finally managed to rig up sky to the bedroom. It had only taken him all weekend to get it to work. Only thing now there is wire trailing the stairs as someone miscalculated the tack to wire ratio.
I have a feeling this week is going to be a challenge.
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