Recovering

My operation was 11 days ago, and I'm finding the recovery more mentally exhausting than anything else. I had six wounds - one big, give little. The five little wounds are healing nicely, and don't hurt anymore. The bigger wound got an infection and is now not-very-pretty-in-the-slightest. My GP gave me a course of antibiotics, which I've now finished, but the wound is still healing.

I'm not in pain anymore. The bigger wound is a little uncomfortable, and I had some awkward side effects from the antibiotics, but I'm not in pain.

When I got out of hospital Mum was here looking after me. When Mum went home Cayden moved in to look after me. I've been feeling a lot better, and he went home this afternoon. At first I was insanely relieved. I am very grateful to both Mum and Cayden for giving up their time to look after me, and I appreciate both of them, but since I first called that ambulance I have not been alone. As a loner/shut-in, I'm not used to constant company, and it was starting to get to me. After Cayden had gone home, I was glad to have my solitude again. It was nice to have some quiet, and to feel like my life was back on track.

I watched some shows, did some paperwork, did some washing up, undid all the tiny little changes around here that arose from having other people doing the chores, and had a nice long bubble bath. The bath was insanely nice too - I haven't had a proper bath in weeks. It was a little disconcerting when an inch-long section of my stitches unravelled and just sat there poking out of my belly, but I survived.

And then I decided to venture into the bedroom (where I haven't really been in weeks), to do a little sorting and tidying up. I was only in there 20 minutes. The room now looks a lot less cluttered and a lot more like my bedroom.

Note to self: just because you FEEL better, doesn't mean you ARE better. You'd have thought I'd have learned that lesson back in 2000 when I screwed my ankle. For those who haven't heard - I fell and tore the tendons away from the bone. Dr told me to stay off it for three weeks. After two weeks it stopped hurting so I went back to college, and now it's screwed for life. I have constant pain in that ankle, and it twists/sprains insanely easily. So, as I say, you'd think I would have learned my lesson. Just because you feel better, doesn't mean you are better.

But I'm me. And I just don't learn lessons properly. I really didn't think I'd done too much today, but judging from the pains I now have in my surgical area, I think I overdid it.

So... less work, more rest. If I'm getting this restless and antsy 11 days after the laparscopic operation, it's a bloody good job they didn't have to do open surgery.

My Adventures in Hospital

It's 10am on Saturday 18th February 2012, and I'm drafting this in my notebook to be blogged when I get home.

I don't know if I've mentioned it here, but for a year now I've been getting these "attacks" of back and stomach pain. Insane pain. Crushing, aching, impossible to sooth and impossible to get comfortable. The pain would ease after a few hours and then I'd be fine. And then, because I'm me, I never went to see my Dr about it.

Wednesday lunchtime this pain comes back, and this time it didn't go away. It got worse, and was accompanied by vomiting that just wouldn't stop. By around 11pm I was vomiting liquid and retching, and fainting a couple of times. It was not a good day.

I didn't have enough credit to call NHS Direct, but I was desperate so I called an ambulance. In A&E they did blood tests and determined that I have pancreatitis. I got admitted.

Basically, pancreatitis is when the pancreas gets inflamed and starts producing enzymes that cause lower back and abdominal pain, and could effect the other organs. There is no surgery or cure available. The only treatment is to help the body recover on its own. IV fluids, no food, pain management. And to find out what caused it in the first place, and deal with that.

The two most common causes are alcoholism (not me) and gall stones. So I got sent for an x-ray and the most painful ultrasound in the world ever. The ultrasound technician confirmed that I had gall stones, but told me to act surprised when the Dr told me because she wasn't meant to have done.

This was about 11am on Thursday. At this point I was in extreme pain but getting meds for that. I was mostly relieved to have a diagnosis. And glad that I hadn't called NHS Direct. They would have just told me to get lots of fluid, lots of rest and to go see my Dr. And my Dr would have just told me it was because I'm fat. By coming to A&E I found out what was wrong with me, and I'm getting treated.

Eventually the Dr came to see me and tells me that - surprise - I have gall stones. He says that the best way to deal with them is to wait until the pancreatitis has died down, and to remove the gall bladder. I've already wikipediaed gall stones by this point so I knew that surgery was an option. I just assumed that, because of my size, it'd be their last resort for me and that instead I'd be taking "ursodeoxycholic acid" for two years to dissolve the gall stones. That treatment has "unpleasant" side effects and it once it ends, gall stones may reoccur. Fun. But the doctor seemed pretty sure that I should have the surgery, if not while I'm admitted, then within 2 weeks.

I'll skip through the next 24 hours, but give you some bullet points.

- a wardmate who would not shut the hell up. I've never heard anyone complain so much.
- a wardmate (pregnant) who refuses to eat anything the hospital provides because it doesn't fit her strict low-fat diet, who regularly disappears with a cigarette and comes back with crisps.
- a variety of nurses. Mostly nice, some super-nice, a couple who were just plain mean.
- a hot 3rd year medical student who got to practice taking patient histories by having an intimate, indepth half hour chat with me.
- constant messages/support/errands/visits from certain friends.
- a complete lack of communication from other "friends".
- mum getting the money needed, driving up and essentially living in my flat until I get out.
- pain. A lot of pain.
- pain meds. A lot of pain meds.

Then last night I got to see the doctor again. It was a different guy though and I'm pretty sure neither of them were the guy on my chart. Both came with a nice flock of med students though. This Dr agreed that I needed surgery. He explained that there would be "issues" relating to my weight and the "shape" of my stomach, but that these were not unsurmountable. He told me the other option... to put a camera/tool/thingy down my throat (while conscious) and cut off the bile duct at the bottom of the gall bladder, allowing the stones to work their own way out. The complications being that a) the stones could cause any kind of havoc on their way out, b) the gall bladder remains and so I could get gall stones again, and c) - this is my favourite - the procedure itself usually causes pancreatitis.

I was prepared to beg for surgery, but didn't need to. He thinks that surgery is the best option. But pancreatitis can cause problems in other organs, so they need that to clear before they can operate. Again, hopefully while I'm admitted.

So how am I? I'm on a constant IV drip, to keep me hydrated. I'm allowed to ingest fluids, but no food because that aggravates the pancreas. I'm in constant pain, but with the meds it's manageable. I just can't get comfortable. I woke up at 7am on the day I got sick and since then (75 hours) I've had about 5 hours sleep. I can get reasonably comfortable on my back, but have never been able to sleep like that. I sleep on my side, which at the moment is a physical impossibility due to the pain. So the only sleep I get is when I doze off, and when I'm on my back, it's only for short periods. Wednesday night I was in A&E, and being admitted and treated and moved. Thursday day time I was getting tests and visitors and being moved again. Thursday night I got about an hour of sleep, in bursts of 15 to 20 minutes. Friday daytime was impossible to sleep because of the noise, and the comings and goings and the obs. Then last night the Dr approved some stronger pain killers for me. I slept! In bursts of 45 minutes or so, and only a couple, but enough to make a difference. I woke up this morning feeling better. I've managed to drink some milk (I've been on weak squash) and I've been able to sit in the chair by the bed for an hour or two.

Unfortunately I can feel the meds wearing off and the stronger pain coming back, so I'm going back to bed and paging the nurse. Another update later.

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12.30pm Sunday 19th February

It's been a bit of an up and down day. I feel better for a bit, then crap, then not crap. Mostly I feel not-quite-with-it. My obs (observations: pulse, respiration, blood pressure, temperature) keep spiking a bit, then dipping a bit. My blood sugar dropped quite badly this morning and they made me have some juice and some milk for breakfast, and tested me again a bit later and it was fine. In my obs just now my temperature was up and they were all surprised. I've been telling them for days that I feel feverish, but because they keep taking my temperature from the side of my head that's had a constant fan blowing at it. I had ONE nurse, on Thursday, who pointed out that the fan-ear would be cooler.

I haven't seen a Dr this weekend at all. I guess they're all out playing golf. There are some doctors doing the rounds, and if I needed one, I'd get one. But at the moment, there isn't much that can be done until the pancreatitis clear up. It was the amylase levels in my blood that diagnosed it, so I'm assuming that at some point I'll get getting another blood test.

I'm not sure what's happening with my appetite. I'm not allowed food until the pancreatitis clear anyway, but yesterday morning I woke up feeling kinda hungry. Then the breakfast trolley came around and made me all queasy. When I had to fill in the dinner menu (I have to do it for the bed, not for me) some of that sounded quite nice. The IDEA of food seems okay, but when food is actually presented to me it really doesn't seem okay.

My brain has registered that I haven't eaten and keeps telling me I'm hungry, but the rest of me disagrees. I think even if the Dr told me I could eat right now, I'm not sure if I would. We'll see, I guess.

In general, I'm tired, achey, tired, hungry (sort of), my stomach hurts, my chest hurts, my back hurts, I'm scared, worried, bored and a little high.

Hope you're all doing better than me.

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2am Monday 20th February

Here are some things I have noticed:

- some people are very, very stupid. You can't go home until you keep down food, so you smother that piece of toast with 4 pats of butter.
- some nurses are very, very attractive. I'm not naming names.
- it is very, very annoying to go 4 and a half days without getting a decent chunk of sleep. I've just woken from a 3 hour sleep, which has been my longest so far.
- it is very, very scary to be in hospital, especially when what you have is potentially life-threatening.
- it is very, very daunting to know that if you get the operation that will sort out your current issues and prevent them from recurring, it will lead to a potential slew of other issues.
- it is very, very worrying to think about how you're going to cope with all the drastic changes you'll need to make to live life healthily without an organ.
- it is very, very hard to put on a brave face when each visitor shows up and pretend you aren't quite as scared, or daunted, or worried as you really are.

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12.15pm Tuesday 21st February

Well, things have progressed. The Dr decided yesterday that I can start eating agaibn, so for dinner I had a small bit of tomato soup and a teeny tiny salad. I wasn't sure if I was going to vomit it back up, or if I'd get lots of pain, but I didn't get either. So later in the day I had a sandwich and a banana and that stayed down too. Et voila! I'm eating again.

I get to eat for a whole day, and then go on Nil By Mouth at midnight, because they hope to do my surgery tomorrow morning. They have to do blood tests to make sure my pancreas is okay, but it seems to be. And obviously, if an emergency comes in, I'll be bumped. But at the moment I'm on the list.

In the meantime, my pain is better. As long as I stay still all I get is the odd spasm. When I move from sitting to standing or lying, that hurts, but then I quickly settle. And when the pain killers wear off all the pain comes back. My lower back, my stomach. But they are keeping me nicely dosed up.

My biggest problem is the sleeping. I still can't sleep on my side. I can lean a bit further now, but find that after an hour or so I regret it. I can sleep for 2-3 hours at a time, but I'm a fidgety person and a fidgety sleeper. Sleeping that long without moving leaves me waking up stiff and in pain. So I'm still uber-tired, but I'm doing okay generally. I'll be doing a lot better once the angry noisy patient on the left of me and the angry noisy patient on the right of me are gone.

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5pm Tuesday 21st February

The Drs seem to think that I'll be getting surgery tomorrow, but from what I've seen going on, and from what I've heard from other patients, that doesn't seem likely. There are a lot of gall bladder patients coming through my ward. Tanya had been diagnosed with gall stones 4 months ago and was still waiting for an operation, but this was the first time she'd been admitted for the issues caused by the stones. Becky has already had her operations bumped back 3 times. She was meant to go down this morning. Saw the anesthetist, signed the form, got all prepped, then they bumped her. They've just moved in a new girl next to me. She was diagnosed with gall stones in October. Since then she's had 4 attacks strong enough to put her in A&E and one attack of pancreatitis. She's been here 5 days this time and each day she was meant to be getting the operation then they bumped her. It's the same, patient after patient. Months of pain, then bump after bump. I only found out about this last week and they reckon I'll have it out tomorrow. I don't know. I'm not holding my breath. (Mostly because it'd hurt too much). I'll assume I'm getting the operation when I'm down there being anesthetised.

I'm noticing other differences. Everyone else was quizzed about their diet and they've been told to have a strict low-fat diet from now on. Nobody's mentioned any of that to me. I'm under a different Dr too. Although someone mentioned that my Dr did their overweight uncle, so maybe my Dr specialises in the bigguns.

I get that every person and every patient is different, but it's very confusing.

Mum and Cayden started talking to me earlier about the aftermath of the surgery. I have been mostly focused on GETTING the surgery, but I have been thinking about what happens afterwards. And not just about a healthier lifestyle and diet once I'm all healed. Usually, and ideally, this operation is done laproscopically (keyhole). You can have the surgery in the morning and be home by the end of the day. However things like obesity can cause problems with keyhole surgery, and it's highly possible they'll need to give me open surgery, which is much more invasive, leaves a bigger wound and takes a lot longer to recover from. The issues this would present for me include the fact that I need to go up a flight of stairs between my front door and my apartment, that my mattress is on the floor, my sofa is short and low, my bath has no handles, etc, etc, etc. It will be a rough 6 weeks - even aside from the pain. I DO know that. I just try very hard not to think about it. I just want them to take the damn gall bladder out. I'll deal with extreme pain for 6 weeks, as long as I don't end up like some of the other people in here living with regular and strong gall bladder attacks for months and months - as well as all the complications that can arise.

Although at the moment all I want to do is sleep, really. That and play with my cats.

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5.15pm Wednesday 22nd February

Today has not been so good. I managed to get a decent amount of solid sleep - which allowed the nightmares back. Then I (and everyone else on the ward) was awoken by the newest member screaming at the nurses in the most grating, horrendous, annoying Liverpudlian accent. Apparently the nurses were treating her badly by not giving her morphine, and they had to go interrupt the Dr while he was performing surgery so he could prescribe some, and the oxy-something-or-other that they were offering her wasn't good enough and they were treating her like she was a "crack addict" and this'd been going on for 20 years now and she was going to report them and blah blah blah. And all of it loudly and repeatedly, in that bloody accent. At 5 in the morning. So when they came to move me to a different ward (off the 72 hour ward that I'd been on for 112 hours) I was actually kinda relieved. Until I got there. The nurses insist everyone get out of bed for breakfast - even if they're on Nil By Mouth like I was. They kept closing the curtains around me for no reason - which I don't like because I'm in a building full of strangers and I wanna be able to see who's coming towards me. And there was zero phone signal, despite the actual sign in here that says we can use phones. And...

Well ok. Looking at it now, those things aren't much. But at the time I was tired and in pain and scared about the op and frustrated and angry. So I cried. A lot. And I called my mummy like a great big baby.

And then on top of that, my surgery was bumped. Not too surprised about that though. I was expecting it. But all in all it was a generally sucky morning and I just wanted to go home.

Then Mum came and hung out with me for a bit, and I had some food, and I've slept a bit more. And now I don't feel quite as bad. I'm still tired and frustrated, but I'm dealing with it better. I'm a wee bit more bored now that I can't access the web on my phone or on the iPad (did I mention that Kat has loaned me her iPad while I'm in here?). I'm finding it a lot easier to sleep now so I'll probably do more of that. Hopefully without the nightmares.

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11.44pm Wednesday 22nd February

This time last week, I called an ambulance.

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6.10am Thursday 23rd February

Why do all the nurses find my pigtails so adorable?

I just scared one of them by talking to her when I was stood up. She hadn't realised I was so tall.

I have an annoying neighbour who watches Bollywood DVDs on her portable thingy without headphones, all day long. Even if the main TV is on.

I just realised that I slept a solid 6 hours, with no nightmares that I can recall.

As far as I know I'm still due to have surgery this morning, which, when I think about it, is a little bit scary.

I was admitted just over a week ago now. A week and an hour-ish.

I've been Nil By Mouth for 6 hours and my mouth is really dry.

I really, really, REALLY miss my cats.

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1.30pm Thursday 23rd February

I had the uber shower, with the special disinfectant. I had a conversation with the surgeon about what the operation entails. I signed the consent form. The nurse even came and did the checklist. Mum came in at 10 and has been sat with me because I don't want to go down without my mum.

Then a Dr came in...

and bumped me. He was a little funny though. Said I was being bumped because people kept wrapping their trees around cars. And that they'd do my operation tomorrow, dependent on the idiots of Stoke-on-Trent.

So I drank a pint of squash, stole one of Mum's sandwiches and sent her home. Now I'm going to watch an episode of Castle on the iPad and have a nap.

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9.15am Friday 24th February

Well, I haven't been bumped yet. A very surgeon-looking surgeon just came in. Apologised for yesterday. Said that after rounds he'd go down and look at the board and see what my chances are. He also said that if the right sort of consultant is on call over the weekend I might not necessarily have to wait until Monday. In the meantime, I'm hungry, my mouth is dry, and all I can do is wait. Again. I'm beginning to understand why all those patients in my last ward were so frustrated. Now that the pain isn't quite so dominant, I'm getting antsy and want to go home. I have the opportunity to go home and get an appointment to come back in the next two weeks. At the moment there are some problems with that:-

- Mum would have to go home because I'd need my bed, and we don't know if she could get back for the op.
- I'm still in pain from the gallbladder that got inflamed during the pancreatitis and while they'll send me home with meds, I still can't sleep properly and I probably wouldn't be able to get out of my bath.

So, at least until I'm sleeping properly and fully mobile, the current plan is to stay in here where there are showers and LOTS of pain meds.

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10.30am Saturday 25th February

I got bumped yesterday. Not at a nice convenient time though. They came and told me at 6.20pm. Mum had been sat here since 10am. I'd had no lunch or dinner. Very frustrating.

But the right type of surgeon is on over the weekend, so they're hoping to get me done today or tomorrow. So I'm sat here again. Showered, check-listed, Nil By Mouth. Mum's here. Hopefully if they bump me today it'll be early.

I'm getting a lot more annoyed and frustrated with the whole situation. I just want to go home. I can sleep on my side now - one of them at least. So I'd be okay at home, but that would mean not having Mum here when I do finally get operated on.

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10pm Saturday 25th February

I'm getting angrier and angrier with this place. At about 12.30 a smiley-faced doctor came in and told me that they wouldn't be able to fit me in this weekend.

Aaaarrrrgggghhhhh!!!

He did say that they could give me a slot on Tuesday and they'd be happy to keep me here until then, or they could send me home and give me an appointment in the next two weeks or so.

So now I'm "booked" in for Tuesday. Even if they can do my surgery laproscopically, by the time I get home I'd been in here for two weeks. I want to go home! I miss my bed, and my cats, and my computer, and my flat, and Ravelry, and the internet, and freedom. I've decided that if they bump me on Tuesday I'm going to go home. I don't want to have the operation without mum here, but I don't want to stay in here getting bumped every day either.

Then on my way back from the backthroom I bumped into my Dr at the nurses' desk. The very first guy I saw, who is also the guy doing the surgeries this weekend. He said he'd been "lumped" with my surgery and that he wasn't looking forward to it because of the complications - while he stared at my stomach. I remember, when he first told me I needed surgery I said I "really really wanted it" and he said he "really really didn't want to do it."

I just got the impression that I keep being bumped because they're foisting my surgery off on each other because no one wants to do it. I was angry. I told mum when she came in for visiting, and she's livid. She's going to "speak" to him tomorrow. She knows he'll be here - we've been told that. And mum is very good in these situations. Even if he'd come right out and said "no one wants to do it", I'd just fume quietly. I can't do complaints and stuff.

Whish is why I won't complain about today's nurses either - although I'll probably tell mum. Yesterday morning I developed a cough. I was Nil By Mouth all day yesterday so I couldn't drink to soothe it, and it got worse. I caughed all night and today it turned wet and rattly, and my throat got so raw my voice turned husky. I've mentioned several times, to several nurses, that I have a cough and that my throat hurts, and is there anything they could do. They first one just seemed to ignore me and went on doing my obs. The others all said they'd see what they could do.

The nighttime meds trolley just came round and I told the nurse that my throat was killing me because of the cough. She says there's nothing she can do about it, and that I should've mentioned it earlier.

I'm tired and sick and frustrated enough that I wanted to throw something at her, but I didn't. I muttered that I had told several nurses about it, and let her walk away. Apparently she put it in the Doctors' book and they'll see to it tomorrow.

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9.30am Monday 27th February

Yesterday was not a healthy day for me. My cough got worse, and my throat got worse. I mentioned it to the morning meds nurse, and again to the tea-time meds nurse. They both said they'd write it down in the Doctors' book and someone would see me.

At the 6pm visiting just after Mum got here, I had a big coughing fit. Coughing stuff up, head exploding, trouble breathing. Mum went to the nurses' station to see why no doctor had been to see me. There were no nurses at the desk, but a couple of doctors who looked and found out that I wasn't even in the book.

Mum. Was. Fuming.

Within the next half hour, one of those doctors - one of those weekend, on call doctors - had been to see me, listened to my chest, reassured me that I didn't have a chest infection, come back a couple of times to check other things, taken arterial blood (ouch!) and said there was a mild possibility of the pancreas/bileduct/something-or-other getting infested so he put me on preventative antibiotics.

In an hour, that one doctor - who isn't part of my care team - spoke to me more, and did more, and explained more, than all the other doctors I'd seen since I'd been in. Which, incidentally, has been 11 days and 10 hours :(

Still, in theory, I have a surgery slot booked for tomorrow. In theory.

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10.30am Wednesday 29th February

I AM GALLBLADDERLESS!!!

I am also insanely uncomfortable, but very very relieved.

Yesterday morning the surgeon-looking surgeon came round and said that they were doing an appendectomy at the moment, but that I was next on the list. This was very good news. So of course as soon as I got to the bathroom for my shower I had a mild panic attack. Changed my mind! Don't want the surgery! I'm fine! I'm going home!

But I didn't chicken out - not that mum would have let me. I'm not overly clear on all the pre-amble now. I do remember the anesthetist coming to the ward, which got mum and I excited because I'd never got that far in the preceedings before. And then they wheeled me away.

As I said, after that it gets a little hazy, but the important bit is that I got the damn operation. They got the gall bladder, and all of the stones, and they managed to do it laproscopically too - which was a surprise, but a nice one. I haven't seen my wounds yet, but I have got 6 little dressings, and dissolvable stitches so I won't need to come back. Everything went smoothly (even if it did take a little longer than usual: they estimated 2 hours and it took four) and there have been no complications so far.

They did put me back on my bed the wrong way round. Shortly after I woke up in recovery they tried to lift the head and it wasn't going, so they tried to plug it in, and the plug was at the wrong end. Eventually they figured out I'd been put back on the bed the wrong way round, so I had to sit up, swivel and lay back down again. It hurt, but I was waaayyyyy too high to care at the time.

Pain-wise, I'm not too bad if I don't move. Just uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Moving is really painful, even on meds. I didn't move at all for the first 12 hours or so, then I really needed the loo. I made it to the bathroom under my own steam, although I needed help sitting up and getting out of bed. And I was utterly exhausted when I got back.

Then this morning I had a very grumpy moment when they made me get out of bed. It HURT. But I want to go home and I know that won't happen if I don't move. So I got out of bed, had a small wash here in my chair, and I didn't get back into bed once they'd changed the sheets - even though I really really want to sleep. I've even made it to the bathroom - with no assistance standing up.

The surgeon-looking surgeon has been back round and confirmed that everything went well. He thinks I should be able to go home tomorrow, but the nurses were talking about me going home today. I'd like to stay in another night, but I don't want the enforced routine or menu or the lack of sleep. I want to go HOME!!! The nurses have said that we can plan to go home tonight - gets meds and checks etc - and if I don't feel well at the time, then I can stay another night.

My jobs for the day are to eat, keep the food down, get up and walk occasionally, use the bathroom and manage the pain. Maybe, if I'm really lucky, I'll be able to stand up straight too.

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8.10am Thursday 1st March

I didn't make it home yesterday. I really was in too much pain. I couldn't shuffle in the bed properly. I was just ignoring that because I wanted to go home. But Mum said, and Cayden said, and the Dr said that I really needed another night in here. The sensible part of me agreed.

Then I woke up at 4am and stretched without thinking and realised that it didn't hurt. I tested all my ahces and hurts, and realised that most of it didn't hurt. I felt so much better I was half convinced that they'd injected me with morphine without telling me. I could move across the bed easily and cough without wanting to pass out. Transitioning from lying to sitting still hurt, but it was easier to walk. Just generally easier. There is still pain, but it's pretty much only in the surgical area - whereas yesterday it was everywhere between my knees and my neck. I'm a lot more comfortable too. I just generally feel better. Until I try to move.

But because it was planned for me to go home yesterday, I already have a big bag of take home meds, so there's no long wait today. I just need to see the Dr, then we can call mum and I can go home.

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1pm Thursday 1st March

I'm home! Finally. Safely esconced on the sofa. I'll post another update soon. Thank you for reading if you made it this far.

:-)

2011 into 2012

Where to start? It's really hard to write this post at the moment, considering that I'm in the middle of an Episode and all I really want to do is curl up and cry. Or other things that are not nearly as healthy, but I'll try.

2011 was not the best of years. My relationship with Neil ended in March. I broke up with him, although of course I regret that. I've seen him twice in nearly two years, but my feelings for him haven't changed. I don't foresee them changing any time soon either. I still think of us as together. We both talk and text as though we are. And on the very rare occasions when he's up to it, we meet as though we're still together too. I'm not sure what's going to happen. As long as he's depressed, and we're sixty miles apart, it's not going to be easy. But for some stupid, stupid reason, I can't give up.

The photography missions failed... you might have noticed. It's hard to take pretty pictures when you're living nocturnally and don't have a high-end camera.

Project 200 is still going strong though. It's no longer a one year project. When I made the decision to work harder on opening an Etsy store, me and my adjudicator (Cayden) agreed that it could become a two year project instead of a one year. I'd intended to get to 75 (which is half the number needed for minimum pass) by New Year, but that hasn't happened, because I've been working on the store.

The weightloss failed. Miserably. I think I'm probably at least a stone or two heavier than I was this time last year. I managed to get into a cycle. I'd try and lose weight, put weight on, get depressed, binge eat, put weight on, get depressed... I was advised by a mental health professional to hold off on the weight loss until I had a better handle on the depression.

I got a little better with money. Sort of. I was just starting to get the hang of things, and pay my bills, and start to clear off my debts, and even save a little, when the stupid government decided it'd be a good idea to stop my benefits. They're in the process of switching over everybody on Incapacity Benefit to an Employment Support Allowance thing. They sent me the form, I filled it in, sent it back. And they decided that I had zero of the fifteen required points to qualify for ESA. Which is soooo wrong. And they'd had no information from my doctor either. So I'm appealing. At some point in the next month or two I'll have to go to a tribunal and hopefully they'll give me my benefit back. For a few weeks I had no income whatsoever, and was unsure of my financial future, but they are paying me now. About two thirds of what I was on, so I'm struggling a bit. It's all a big mess, but there's nothing I can do about it until the tribunal.

My depression has wavered a lot this year. It's been hard. I have a new kitten, Lexie:



And in the last few days I've managed to make a brand new friend - meaning that I now have three very close friends. I have about five other friends, all of them far away. I have hundreds of semi-friends on Ravelry who have sent me dozens of Christmas cards and lots of presents. But I'm so lonely. All the time. It doesn't go away.

My family has had a hard year. My youngest sister is now living with her dad, after all kinds of mayhem. My middle sister is barely speaking to our Mum. Most of the time it feels like my entire family has fallen apart, but there's nothing I can do to stop it, or to fix it.

I have lots of plans for 2012, but at the moment I'm struggling to see past how bad I feel at the moment. My sister is married and happy and they're looking for a house; all three of my brothers have beautiful children; two of those brothers are in happy, committed relationships and one of them got married this year. And then there's me. Living alone with my cats and no relationship. Feeling like a complete failure. My best friend in the world and I had a big falling out, and have a very tentative friendship at the moment. The love of my life is lost in a fog of his own depression and I don't know when or if I'll ever see him again. My financial situation is a complete mess, and I have no idea if that'll get better or much more worse. I turn 30 in 2012, and I have absolutely nothing to show for my life.

Aargh! I hadn't intended to get so miserable in this post. I'm going to go and get some food, then I'll come back and write my plans for this shiny new year.

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Okay, so I've had some food (bacon, beans and fried egg - nice healthy start to the year) and I've made some pointless lists and sorted some things out, so I feel a bit better.

I do have some good plans for 2012. Aside from continuing and finishing Project 200, I'm opening an Etsy store! Finally. I've been making plans to do it for a couple of years, but I finally decided that New Year's Day would be the opening day. I have a stock of products ready to go up, the store is all there waiting. We even have business cards!

Celeena Cree Creations!

Don't expect too much: there's nothing in there at the moment. But there will be by the end of the day.

I'm also raising money. I'm doing a Discworldathon to raise money for Alzheimer's Research. I have the first book - Colour of Magic - sat right beside me. I'm going to read a bit in a minute. I've set my first fundraising target at £150, and I've already raised nearly a third of that. I have £7.25 on my Justgiving page. Here! And I have another £39.50 pledged.

My other plan for this year is 2012 Fantabulous Things. I have a couple of hundred things already, and I'll add to them as I think of them, so keep an eye out for that.

Sorry for the misery

Hiya Internetz. Sorry about the lack of blogging. And I'm sorry that this blog will be a bit miserable too.

I haven't been blogging mostly because I haven't been finishing off any Project 200 crafts. I've been working on patterns and designs for my upcoming Etsy store, and project testing those patterns, and making other pieces to sell. I have been working on Project 200, it's just been small parts of big projects. I have restarted the Mammoth Secret Project. Well... I haven't "restarted" it, that would be insane. But I have started working on it again. I'm getting there. I'd like to have it finished by the start of September, so that I can deliver the bloody thing. That's all I'm working on this month. That and two or three cross stitch pieces. Nothing else. Not until the MSP is finished.

In the meantime... ouch. I have the plague. Well, I have the flu. Probably not even flu. More like a cold. But I don't do sick well. I do sick like a man. I feel like I'm dying. I have a completely stuffed head, a nose that can't decide if it's runny or stuffed, a stomach that gets queasy when I think about eating but that has me starving all the time. The light hurts. No energy. Can't stop sleeping. Mind you, that isn't all that different from normal.

I feel... wrong. I want nothing more than to be curled up in bed with a certain Lancashire Lad, watching a movie or something. And I can't have that. There's not much more in life that I want other than that. I wanted ice cream and milkshake earlier, and spent four hours mustering energy to go out to Sainsbury's, before I remembered that it was Sunday and the shops had been closed for hours. Wham. Depression. Because I wasn't in a bad mood already.

When I thought I was moving to Basingstoke, I scoured the internet looking for clubs and groups and societies and classes and things to get myself a social life. Checked out all the libraries and colleges and community centres and things. In the past week I've been doing the same thing for here, now that I've decided to stay. I'm going to start getting bus passes in September again, and go back to Stitch and Bitch at Keele, and restart Brownies, and join all these new groups. Get myself a social life. Give myself somewhere to go, make some new friends.

Except that right at this very moment, that seems like a really stupid thing to do. Yes, it kinda sucks being lonely. But it's safe. I can't get hurt or wound up or anything by people if I don't interact with any of them. People are evil. What I really want to do is stay the hell away from all of them.

I wish I could switch myself off. I don't mean that to sound suicidal, because it isn't meant to be. I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die. There are lots of things in life that I want, that I enjoy, that I look forward to. It's just that 90% of the time I'm not enjoying myself. I'm working hard, all the time, just to stay conscious and not collapse in a big pile of flesh and tears. I'm so tired of it. I want an off-switch. So I could just turn myself off right now, and wake up again when it's Christmas. Or when Neil is better and wants me again. Or when they've found a cure for depression.

I'm tired, and ill, and frustrated, and angry, and worried, and exceedingly uncomfortable and all I want is Neil. And then I feel worse, because I'm not meant to want him. He's just my friend now, nothing more. I shouldn't want him anymore than I want Cayden. But I do. I want Neil, and I want to stop feeling so shit all the bloody time.

Cheesed Off

Here are just a few reasons why I'm cheesed off right now..

- things in my family have gotten messy and I can't do anything to help
- everybody in my family is annoyed at everyone else for crossed messages and not understanding things and just the stupid situation as it stands
- I have a headache. Not that nice kind of headache you can sleep through, but the evil kind that wakes you up in tears because it's so flipping bad
- One of my friends is too busy with her life to reply to text messages
- My other friend is still awol. Alive, according to the offline MSN message I got, but that's all I've heard from him in over a week
- I'm annoyed at myself that I only have two friends I can hang out with
- An old friend keeps texting to see what I'm up to and asking if he can come over - despite the fact that the last time we spoke he spent two hours insulting me and my life
- I've been chatting to guys online, trying to make friends, and we get on okay until I mention I only want to be friends, then they vanish, or block me
- The one guy who didn't vanish is still persistently being overly flirty, and if I don't respond to a text within ten minutes he sends the exact same text again
- I don't have the energy to get up and do anything
- I can't focus on more than one or two rows of any craft project
- I can't muster the energy to go and sit in the lounge, and I can hear both cats outside the bedroom door meowing because I won't let them in, but I can't let them in because Lexie won't stop peeing on the bloody bed
- I don't have vast amounts of ice cream in the freezer
- I don't have ANY ice cream in the freezer
- I'm in love with someone who is in love with me, but it won't work and I have to deal with that fact, but I really don't want to
- I'm going stir crazy in my house, but I have absolutely no where to go
- Even if I had somewhere to go, I have no money to get there
- I'm lonely as hell
- I'm frustrated, due to certain urges having been awoken
- I'm annoyed because I've woken up hours earlier than intended, but I can't get back to sleep


- I'm not incredibly annoyed because every time I phone my mother, about anything, we end up getting into an argument about Michaela and she yells at me
- I'm annoyed that I actually let myself believe that my relationship with that woman had gotten any better
- I'm annoyed with life in general, and I hate everything

Pure and Fresh

Someone called me "pure and fresh" today. Not exactly how I'd describe myself. I'm not entirely sure how I'd describe myself. Right now I'm probably more likely to use words like "alone" and "miserable" and "a mess". I'm not doing so well. The crying fits have stopped. Aside from a binge-day last week, and a minor cutting session, I'm not taking it out on myself physically. Just a lot of feeling very very miserable.

It appears that I've developed a "thing". When a big relationship ends I cut my own hair. When Michael dumped me, waayyy back in 2002, I got frustrated with my hair during an episode and tried to cut it. Didn't work, and I ended up shaving my head. This time I didn't end up bald. And to be honest, cutting the hair wasn't so much to do with Neil, as convenience. I'm still having issues with NPower, and have no gas or hot water. I can have stand up washes in front of my little electric heater, but it's been impossible to wash my hair. I've been going weeks and weeks at a time without doing anything to it, and it was nearly always matted and knotted and horrible. I got annoyed with it. Brushed it out, chopped it to my ears, and washed it in the kitchen sink. Feels sooo much better. It's now too short to tie back and ignore, and short enough for me to wash with a kettleful of water. It's just coincidental timing that it happened at the end of a relationship.

Aside from that, I'm slowly getting my routine back together. I feel like the entire inside of my body is a big pit of despair and misery, but I'm getting out of bed, and I'm crafting, and I'm washing up, and so on. My leaving-the-house has been reduced back to never. And my sleeping pattern is completely out of whack. But I'm okay. I'll be okay. Eventually. Maybe.

A post that's not about Project 200

Hey there Internet peoples. I haven't done much blogging recently that hasn't just been posting my FOs. I guess I've been trying not to think too much about the things that are bothing me. And when I blog, no matter how positive I try to be, I end up on the bad things. Let's just brush that aside right now and say that I miss Neil so much my heart is constantly aching. Also, that I'm utterly broke, and still have no gas.

Right, on to better stuff.

I'm settling into a better routine now. I've actually been getting up in the morning, and leaving the bed, and going back to it at nightime. Like normal people. I've even been doing some housework. In fact, aside from the kitchen, my place looks pretty good. Tidy, organised, hoovered. And I'm doing well at keeping it that way too. I just need to tackle the kitchen next, which will be easier when I have some hot water later today. And a bath! My god, I am so looking forward to having a bath. I may just stay in there all week.

I'm getting lots of crafting done. I know I said I wasn't going to mention it, but I've just finished projects 20 and 21 of Project 200, and that pushes me past the 10% barrier. I'm on a roll. I've even done two projects that weren't part of Project 200. In between the crafting and the housework, I've been ignoring the math workbook I started, and all the writing exercises I want to do. But I'm keeping myself busy.

I'm even exercising. Lol. How many of you fell over reading that?

I want a dog. While I was at Mum's over Christmas, two of her friends got puppies. And I decided that I'm sick of being told I shouldn't get a dog. Everyone says I wouldn't be able to look after it, and I wouldn't take it out. Believe it or not, I am aware that dogs need taking for walks and can't use litter trays and need feeding. I may not be very good at taking care of myself, but I'm actually pretty good at taking care of other people. So I decided to screw everyone else, and that I'm getting a dog, damnit.

I have considered Smudge. Over Christmas she wasn't exactly friendly with Mum's dog Gracie, but they managed. And they'd have settled eventually. When I introduced the neighbour's puppy to her, she wasn't too bothered. The conclusion being that as long as I get a puppy, or a dog that's smaller than her, Smudge will be fine. It'll take a long time, but I've done the reading and I know what I need to do to introduce them and acclimatise them together. I'm making plans to start buying cans of dog food when I have money, so I can get a stock together for my future puppy.

And then there's the Puppy Plan. A dog will need taking out first thing in the morning to go potty, and last thing at night, and about an hour after dinner. It will also need a decent length walk during the day for exercise. I am the first to admit that I don't go out that much. I don't go out at all, actually. And the Puppy Plan is to correct that...

Starting this monday just gone, I'm walking round the block last thing at night.

Starting next monday, I'll be walking around the block first thing in the morning too.

The week after I'll start getting up a little earlier (at the moment I'm getting up before 11.)

The week after that I'm gonna lengthen the nighttime walk.

The week after that I'll be adding a round the block walk an hour after dinner.

The week after that I'll extend the morning walk.

And the week after that I plan to start getting up before 9.30 (I'm not sure a puppy could hold it in til 11), and extending the morning walk to puppy exercise length.

That's the Puppy Plan. And although it's only three days old, so far it's going well. Back when I wanted kids, the fact that I wouldn't be able to conceive unless I lost weight wasn't enough of an incentive. But this is really getting me motivated.

I've ALWAYS wanted a dog. I'm a dog person. I've just only ever had cats because they were convenient at the time. Lol. It'll be difficult to get a dog. Shelters won't let me rehome a dog, because I don't have a garden. And I'll have to save lots of money to buy one, so it'll be a while yet. Plenty of time to collect dog food, and a collar, and a leash, and bowls, and a bed, and dog treats (and cat treats too, for placating and soothing). Plenty of time to get into the habit of walking more. And even without a dog, the exercise isn't going to hurt me, is it?

Generally things are okay. I'm not happy happy all the time, but I'm reasonably content. The only thing missing is Neil. :( But I'm not getting into that.

I'll try and blog actual text more often :P

Reasons Why I Feel Crappy Right Now...

1) I'm homesick. Really homesick. I've been in Basingstoke at my Mum's house since December 22nd. That's 27 days. I don't think I've been with her and/or Michaela for that long in a decade. Normally I'm only down here for a week. Two at the most. And I have this threshold that I tend to reach where I just can't stand being here anymore. It took longer than normal to reach it, only yesterday, but I'm definitely there. I want to go home. Unfortunately I'm here for another 7 days.

2) I miss Neil. Like crazy. I haven't seen him since July, and I have absolutely no idea when I'll see him again. We're both ridiculously broke.

3) I'm trying not to think about our anniversary in February, because I don't want to get my hopes up, only for him to not be able to make it. But I'm failing. It means a lot to me, and it's going to be horrible, just like last year. I'm going to be spending our anniversary alone, anger, bitter and miserable again.

4) I have some kind of indigestion/acid reflux/heartburn thing. I'm tired and want to sleep, but when I lie down I get ridiculously uncomfortable. And I can't stop belching.

5) Michaela and Mum are constantly yelling at each other. There are big problems, and I don't know how to fix them. I try not to get involved. I tend to just sit here rocking back and forth like a loony-person.

6) I'm out of the constant slow-release painkillers that my doctor has me on, and the doctor down here won't prescribe me any, so I'm pretty constant pain from my ankle and my head and my back.

7) As I mentioned before, I'm broke. I screwed up one of my money things again, and have actually handed control of my bank accounts over to my sister. Standing orders are set up for all my debts and my bills, and the remainder gets sent to another account for me. A pitiful amount, from which I have to get gas, electric, pet food, human food, etc. It's miserable.

8) I miss all my stuff.

9) I desperately want chocolate, but there is none. I'm currently munching my way through the shortbread Mum got for Christmas, and contemplating the tub of raspberry ripple icecream in the freezer.

10) Mum's smoking is giving me a sore throat and a cough.

11) I have to do some work with DPNs to finish off my next Project 200 piece, and I'm dreading it.

I'm just generally in a shitty mood. In the interest of fairness though, here are the reasons why I don't feel crappy right now:

1) My cat has become a lot less of a scaredy cat, and is willing to socialise.

2) I have shortbread and icecream.

So, that was 2010...

It's over. Well, not quite. Technically there's still six hours left of it for me, but I honestly can't see me moving off the sofa for it. I've had a really exhausting day. It'll be a miracle if I even make it to midnight.

Anyway, last year I had a lot of plans for 2010. If you don't wanna read that post, I'm about to list the highlights, and how I did.

Be better with money

Ummmmm. Well, in spring I had a major breakdown money-wise. There was a Brownies thing, and a rent thing, and then there was a selling the Wii and tv thing, and it was a big depressing mess. A few months later I handed my finances over to my mum and asked for help. She called everyone I owe money to, and all my bills and things, and arranged for me to pay them. Now I have lots of standing orders going out on payday. It's been a little tough having hardly any money. I mean, I have enough. After all the bills, and gas and electric, I usually have £20-30 ish to play with, and to get food (per fortnight). That's not bad. But considering when I didn't pay any bills I had £200ish to play with, it's a bit of a drop. I'm getting used to it. As far as the resolution goes, I'm actually doing it. When I asked mum for help, the original plan was to hand control of my internet banking over to her or my sister, so I couldn't delete or change the standing orders. But there was a delay in some of the bills and things, and I never got around to it. But I've been paying the bills, not fiddling with the standing orders. Which for me is a huge improvement. I've paid off one debt already. By the end of 2011, I should only have one or two huge ones left.

Start saving

Not so good. I have difficulty saving anyway, and then with the money issues this year it's been impossible. With Project 200, I'll be saving via Cayden or Jen, and maybe I can give them some extra money too.

Pay damn bills

See above comment about money

Classes and courses and groups

In that post last year I listed a hundred different classes and courses and interest groups I was going to go to. I never got to any of them. I haven't had money to go anywhere other than on pay day really, and I've settled back into my old routine of not leaving the house. But I don't mind. I don't have anywhere to go, and I have plenty to keep me busy. It's not like I lounge on the couch watching tv all day. I do a lot.

Lose weight

I did go back to Weightwatchers. I went at the end of April and discovered that I very nearly hit that 30 stone threshold, but not quite. It was a shock, so I made an effort. I couldn't afford to go every week, but I went roughly once a fortnight. I lost a total of 18 lbs by the start of September, but then I had the big money decrease and haven't been able to afford it. I plan to go back in the New Year now I have a tiny bit of extra money.

Swimming

Nope. Never happened. I'd still like it to, but I'm highly doubtful it'll happen this year.

More writing

I have been doing some writing, but not nearly as much as I used to, or as I'd like to be doing. On my daily checklist, I have down to either do some math from a GCSE book I'm working through, or to do some writing. Trouble is, I've been counting blogging as doing writing. I'll change that.

Weekly photography missions

These never happened either. Although I do still like the idea. I may try it again this year. Perhaps not 50 pictures a week. I'll do 10 a week; much more manageable.

New incarnation of 52 New Things

I did this one! I completed 52 challenges. Well, I documented them all, I didn't necessarily complete them all. I'm quite proud of myself for that, and for last year. I don't normally manage to maintain a project, let alone one that lasts a year, and I've managed to keep these up for two years now. The new incarnation for 2011 is Project 200.

Moving

I did this! I moved on January 16th, and I love my flat. It gets a little lonely, but I have my Smudge....



...and I'd much rather be lonely occasionally than be in shared accomodation again. I love not having to compromise with anyone.

Keep my depression at a handleable level

Now this one is debateable. I've had a LOT less episodes than years past, but I've also been finding that my depression has been manifesting differently, so I'm not entirely sure. I haven't been suicidal quite as often, and I haven't self-harmed very much. But my dermotillomania is off the charts, and all my energy and oomph has a tendency to just vanish and leave me staring at the wall for hours at a time.

Stay with Neil

It has been a VERY rough year. Especially for Neil, with the loss of his brother, and a full year of episoding. His episode finally subsided a month or two ago, and his grief over Paul kicked in. He's had it hard. And relationship-wise it's been hard on me, because I've only seen him a few times. The last time was the end of July. But we're still together. I still love him with all my heart, and I'm still planning to stay with him through whatever life throws at us.

Be happy

I wouldn't say I'm 100% happy. There is still a lot in my life that I'd change if I could, and some stuff that I can change and that I'm trying my hardest to. But I can say that I'm content.

There's been developments that I didn't consider last year. It's been a year of pets. I haven't been too successful with them. When I moved, mum gave me a kitten. Tippi. Who turned out to be a boy, so he was Alfred Hitchcock, aka Alfie.



And then I got a rabbit to go with him. Sir Reginald Fortescue, aka Reggie.



But then Alfie escaped while I was down at Mum's one weekend, and I couldn't find him. And then my landlady decided she didn't want me to have a rabbit, so we took Reggie to the rehoming centre at PetsMart. So I was petless, which was not good. Then I got Pixel.



She was found by someone as a stray, with lots of little kittens. They took her in, but couldn't keep her, so I had her. Then I got Smudge, who is quite possibly the cutest cat I've ever had.



But Pixel tried to eat Smudge. Pixel really didn't enjoy being an indoors cat at all. She was always loud and restless and trying to escape, so I rehomed her with someone who could let her be an outdoor cat. Now I just have Smudge, but hopefully that's changing soon - there's a plan for kittens.

And the baking. I've developed a fascination with baking. No idea what triggered it, it just happened. Now I'm obsessed with it. The muffins! I've made six batches of muffins since I've been down here at Mum's. I made sausage and cheese ones Christmas day, and chilli and sweetcorn ones. Then I made gingerbread muffins. The gingerbread ones were so good one of mum's friends requested her own batch, so I made more of those. And yesterday I made more sausage and cheese ones because we had sausagemeat left. Today I made banana and walnut ones which were also delicious. But that's it! No more muffins til next year! Mind you, we went to Hobbycraft yesterday and I got cookie cutters, so I might make cookies next.

It's been a long and hard year. I hope 2011 is better, for everyone. Best wishes from me and Smudge.

Minor Triumphs

I've been feeling really proud of myself for what I've acheived this week. I had a moment of thinking that I shouldn't be proud, because it's all things that normal people do without even thinking about it. But I'm not a normal person. I have trouble waking up in the morning, let alone doing anything else. So my triumphs are pretty huge for me.

Whereas I normally only go out once a fortnight, I've left the house five of the last six days.

I've managed to catch up with all of my washing up, and keep it from piling up again.

I cleaned half of my kitchen, which admittedly is not my whole kitchen, but half is better than I normally get done.

I've remembered to brush my teeth every night. As gross as it sounds, that's something I forget to do a lot.

I got my new glasses yesterday, and I've been wearing them like I'm supposed to as well.

I've finished lots of craft projects.

When I emptied the bins, I didn't leave the bags at the top of the stairs for the next time I went down, like I normally do. I actually took them down.

As I say, none of it is huge, but it's pretty impressive for me. Especially since I've been ill. The bladder infection cleared itself up overnight on Wednesday, and I finally managed to get some sleep. Which is just as well since I slept through the alarm and missed my doctor's appointment. I also managed to get a cold that day, and am all stuffy and runny and gross at the moment.

But generally, things are good :-)

Not good

Ok, so as if I didn't have enough problems with sleep...

I have a bladder infection. Whilst out doing errands yesterday, in six hours I used eight different public toilets, and missed three buses because I couldn't hold it long enough. It's not painful, just uncomfortable. When I don't have to go out though, it's not too bad. I get on with my day, and take lots of bathroom breaks.

At night though... I lay down, I close my eyes, and there's nothing to distract me. Last night I had three hours sleep. Tonight I haven't been able to get to sleep at all. I can't decide if I should keep trying, or just give up and use the time to do something productive.

I have an appointment with the doctor first thing in the morning, and hopefully he'll give me some antibiotics. I'd happily have the infection for three times as long, if it went away for 8 hours a night so I could sleep!

New Thing: Challenge 46

Challenge 46 - live diurnally for 2 weeks

My body naturally leans towards nocturnal living. No matter how long I've been awake, or how rested I am, I am ALWAYS much happier, more alert and active during the night time. Since I have no job, no college, no dependents, I don't really see a problem with living that way. I can do pretty much everything online these days, so living nocturnally is a viable way of life.

The only thing that bothers me is that my friends and family aren't nocturnal, so when I sink into a habit of going to bed at dawn, and waking up around 5-6pm, I don't get to see or speak to anybody very much. Particularly Neil, who goes to bed the second he gets home from work. So every so often I try to get into a "proper" routine. I usually fail.

This week I decided to set a challenge to stay diurnal for two weeks. I failed. Miserably. Day 1 I woke up ill, and that was the end of it.

I'm not too disappointed, to be honest. I've managed to stay not-quite-as-nocturnal, and with my new sofa and computer chair I'm keeping to a better routine than I was.

Current saved total: £85
Current donated total: £145

Where my life is at the moment...

- my depression is dragging me down. I'm not episoding, but it's stopping me living a normal life.

- I have two cats, who can't be in the same room together. I either have to lock Pixel in the living room, and listen to her meow, or I let her out and she chases Smudge into a corner. Smudge stays in the corner, and Pixel tries to kill her when she moves. Smudge is de-litter training herself, and doesn't eat properly. Pixel refuses to eat because I've had to switch to canned food. Oh, but she'll chase Smudge away and eat her food.

- My boyfriend - depressed and grieving - has had his phone switched off for two days and is worrying the hell out of me.

- My house - thanks to a collapsing bed, and my increasing depressing - is a state, and is slowly getting worse. It's even starting to smell, and I need to sort it out. I want to, but I have motivation and 'oomph' issues.

- My head is constantly throbbing in pain, and I'm taking obscene amounts of painkillers daily.

- I'm sleeping on a mattress on the floor, again, because of my sodding collapsing bed.

- I'm in major financial shit. So much so that my mother is calling the people I owe money to, and my sister is taking control of my internet banking. In a couple of weeks, I won't have to deal with my bills or anything. I'll have an allowance. A pathetic allowance that will allow for no fun, no visits to boyfriends, no yarn, no nothing.

However, it isn't all bad news. I think negative thoughts about myself a lot, and I'm trying to train myself to think of two positives for every negative. So here I go...

- My cats are both adorable. They're both friendly and affectionate and cuddly and happy (alone, anyway).

- I'm a talented crafter, capable of creating anything from a mini alien, to a beautiful lace shawl.



- I have my own home, with my own roof over my head, and that makes me better off than hundreds of millions of people around the world.

- I have a mother and a sister who care enough about me to help me sort out my problems and look after me financially.

- I'm intelligent, and smart, and logical. Even if I don't have much common sense, I'm still an intelligent, smart, logical woman.

- It may be taking a while, and I may not be doing it the right way (technically) but I am losing weight. I've lost 18 lbs since I went back to Weightwatchers in April.

Okay, now I'm starting to have difficulties. It's always hard to think positive about myself and my life. Years ago, my best friend at the time used to get me to list one good thing about myself for each letter of the alphabet. It was insanely difficult. It's an exercise I still try occasionally and it's still insanely difficult.

I couldn't come up with two positives for each negative I started with, but writing the positives afterwards has helped to ease the sting of the negatives. I am having problems, but I'm surviving them. I'm still here.

30 Day Meme - Day 12

Day 12 - Whatever takes my fancy

Sleep. I have a very complicated relationship with Sleep. I like to sleep. A lot. I like being asleep. I love that drowsy half-asleep feeling. I love that not-quite-awake-yet feeling. I can fall asleep anywhere - including the student union nightclub. Sleep is my dear close friend.

Sleep is also my nemesis. It's evil! It's more the difficulty I have getting to sleep. Yes, I can fall asleep anywhere, but not when I actually want to sleep. I don't think I've ever had a normal sleeping routine. If I decide it's bedtime, and put away what I'm doing and get into bed and close my eyes to go to sleep, I think. If I'm not doing something I think, and when I think very bad things happen. I can't stop thinking, and then I get depressed. So I have this wonderful tendency to stay awake until I'm utterly exhausted, because then when I go to bed I won't think, I'll just fall asleep. This usually means a very strange timetable. For the past few days I've been getting up at midnight-ish. That's not right.

My other problem with sleep is the waking up part. I sleep too much. 18-20 hours at a time sometimes. I've been known to sleep through whole days. And I know it's not healthy. I know that too much sleep is as bad for you as too little sleep. I know that you're supposed to aim for 8 hours sleep a day. That sounds perfectly reasonable. Apart from the fact that if I set an alarm I sleep through it, or I throw it across the room, or I switch it off and go back to sleep. I've tried setting multiple alarms, it doesn't work. Occasionally I do manage to get up, but then I'll fall asleep doing something later in the day.

It doesn't help that I don't work, that I don't have a routine. I have no reason to get out of bed, no reason to go to bed at a sensible time. I find it insanely difficult to keep to a routine. On days when my depression is flaring up, it's almost impossible for me to get out of bed, and on those days it's very difficult to stay awake. There's no need for it.

And then of course, there are the nightmares. I suffer from dreadful, horrendous nightmares. Every night. About all kinds of things. I get the someone-is-chasing-me nightmares, the monsters-in-the-cupboard nightmares, the naked-in-public nightmares and the death-of-a-loved-one nightmares. I get very, very vivid nightmares about people I care about. People leaving me, people dying in gruesome horrific ways, that are usually my fault. It's ridiculously disturbing. I have nightmares that wake me up crying and sweating and shaking. I have nightmares that haunt me throughout the day, leave me feeling like something is wrong. I also tend to attack myself in my sleep on occasion. I've woken up with scratches and bumps and bruises. It's awkward and surreal and not pleasant.

I don't always remember my nightmares, but on days when there are lots of them it leaves me feeling more shattered than I was before I slept. I'm always tired. Always. My depression makes me tired, my antidepressants make me tired. It doesn't matter whether I sleep at night, or in the day, I'm always tired. It doesn't matter whether I sleep six hours, or eight or fifteen. I am always tired. And it's not pleasant.

New Thing: Challenge # 35

Challenge 35: 48 hour fast

Fail! Again. Apparently my body reacts to a fast by binging twelve hours in, so I'm not going to try that one again.

For the eagle-eyed among you who've noticed that challenge 34 isn't up, it's a 4 week challenge, so I have two more weeks to fail it.

Current saved total: £65
Current donated total: £105

30 Day Meme - Day 10

Day 10 - a photo of you taken over 10 years ago

There are lots of photos of me as an adorable child that I like to show off, but I also like this one...



I think I was 13 or so in this picture, which would make it approximately 15 years old. I'm currently verging on 30 stone, and this is what I used to look like. Lots of people don't believe it's me, but it really is. When I moved in with my mum I changed a lot!

Not a Good Fortnight

Things are not going so well at the moment. Generally, I'm happy and healthy and getting on with things and my depression is under control. But things keep going wrong.

As you may have seen from a previous blog post, Neil's brother Paul was killed last week. The cortege of 7 coffins that were repatriated and paraded through Wootton Bassett on Tuesday? One of those was Paul. Neil seems to be coping okay. In theory he's going back to work on Monday, but we'll see. I'm worried about Neil, and I'm being affected by every news article about another soldier or marine that is killed. And they keep dying.

On Tuesday my kitten Alfie went missing. I'm down in Basingstoke with my family, so Jen has been feeding the Beastie Boys. When she went around on Tuesday, one of the windows was open too wide, and Alfie was nowhere to be seen. I wish I hadn't left the window open, but it was only open a crack and it was too stiff for Alfie to push. Apparently he got stronger :-(

And then there's Michaela. Michaela is my twelve year old sister. For months she's been having abdominal pains, and had been diagnosed with period pains, then with swollen stomach glands, then with a urinary infection. She went for an ultrasound to check her urinary system, and they found a 5cm cyst on her ovary. She had to wait for a gynecologist's appointment and last week the gyno arranged for her to have an operation to remove the cyst.

Yesterday my Mum and I took Michaela to the local hospital, and we waited with her during pre-op blood pressure tests and billions of questions. Mum went down when they knocked her out, then Mum and I waited impatiently while the surgeon cut her open.

It was a little funny when she came back; she was very very stoned. Giving everyone these big dopey grins and waves, and was convinced she saw a cat on the ward. Eventually the consultant came around to tell us that Michaela had two very healthy ovaries. This was a relief, because there was concern that one of the ovaries would have needed removing. However, the consultant then informed us that there was no cyst. There never had been a cyst.

Mum's furious. So is Michaela. She was cut open for nothing. So now I'm sat on the sofa in Mum's living room, and Michaela is on a bed that the neighbour brought down for us. She's in horrible pain, and there's nothing I can do to help her. I kinda wish I'd stayed at home. At home I couldn't have helped. Here there's nothing I can do. I'm angry at the hospital, surely they should have done another scan, to check the state of the cyst? It had been 4 weeks since the first one.

So there you have it. Oh, add my best friend's relationship issues, another best friend who's in crisis over uni and emotion and depression and counselling and everything else, and a constant headache, and ankle pain that won't go away. Things are just generally shit right now, and I wish they'd get better.

I suppose there is some good news though, I got a haircut...

New Thing: Challenge # 23

Challenge 23 – Write a manifesto.

Passed. It was actually kinda therapeutic. Affirming. I thought I was going to write about all these big changes I’d planned to make in my life, and it turns out I’m actually kinda happy as I am. Here it is:

My name is Colette Hayley Horsburgh and this is my manifesto. This is who I am, who I have been and who I want to be. I am 27 years, 7 months and 18 days old, and I am not where I always wanted to be by this age. My life wasn’t as straightforward as I’d planned. Many things went wrong, and a lot of twists and turns corrupted my path. By now I can’t even clearly remember what I wanted to do or where I wanted to be. I just know that I haven’t achieved it. I don’t have the education and qualifications I would have liked. My physical condition is much worse than I would have liked. I don’t have the family, or friend base, that I would have liked. But I am here. Despite the traumas of my past, I am still here. I’m not who I had planned to be, but I’m still here. And although the last 27 years, 7 months and 18 days haven’t gone quite right, I have time to change that.

I don’t have to be who I am, or in the state that I am in. If I don’t want to be, I can change it. Change is difficult. When you have depression and many of its related disabilities, change is slow and hard and near impossible. But I can still do it. All I need to figure out is what I want to change.

I haven’t had the education I’d planned; the education that every person is expected to have. School, college, university. It didn’t work out that way for me. And now, even if I could choose a degree subject that would keep me interested, I wouldn’t be able to afford it. Not in the foreseeable future. So university isn’t an option anymore, but there are still other avenues I could follow. The internet provides a million opportunities to learn. Not all of them conclude with certificates or qualifications, but I can still learn. I can learn math, philosophy, science, art, history. Anything I choose to learn will be somewhere on the internet. All I have to do is find it.

By now I had wanted to have found love, and be married, and have children. I’m not quite there yet. I have love. I have a wonderful, if complicated, relationship that I want to, and plan to, be in for the rest of my life. Maybe one day we’ll get married. Maybe one day we’ll have children. I want that. I want to be a wife and a mother. I want to spend my days looking after our children, and my evenings looking after my husband. That is my dream, and my plan, but it is one that I’m willing to give up if my love doesn’t want it. I want him.

Now that I’m writing this, and focusing on what I need to change, I’m not entirely sure that I want to change that much of it. Who I am at the moment is not the socially-acceptable norm. I don’t sleep when I’m supposed to, or socialise like I’m supposed, or look like I’m supposed to, or act like I’m supposed to. And I have my issues. My depression is a constant blight on my life, but it’s manageable. My sleeping routine is erratic at best, but I’m working hard on changing that, despite many many failures. I don’t leave the house as much as I probably should, but I don’t really have anywhere to go anyway. I’m not entirely right, but I’m happy with my lot in life. There isn’t that much that I want to change.

I can do the things that I want to do. I can learn. I can love. I have friends and I have family. I have hobbies and talents and interests. I don’t have aspirations for big things in life. I don’t need a big house, or a 12 figure bank account. I don’t need a degree or a thousand friends. I don’t need a lot.

A manifesto is a public statement of intent. So here it is. My intentions for life are simple. I intend to work to have a routine in my life. I intend to work to manage my depression and my weight. I intend to maintain and enjoy my relationship. Ideally I intend to marry my love, and bear his children and look after his family. I intend to make small changes to keep myself happy, and to not worry so much about what I should be doing or feeling. I am Colette Hayley Horsburgh and I intend to continue to be me.


Current saved total: £45
Current donated total: £70

New Thing: Challenge # 21

Challenge 21 – List 100 things that annoy you

This is my second attempt at this challenge. It wasn’t easy the first time, and it wasn’t easy the second time. Although I managed it this time. Eventually.

It’s ridiculously difficult. I’m one of those people who is very easily pleased, and also very easily annoyed. Yet I couldn’t list 100 things that annoy me. This annoyed me, as you’ll see from item # 38 in the following list:

1) Nightmares
2) Having no internet
3) Hot, muggy weather
4) Bright, cherry, retina-burning sunlight
5) Cats who break into the trash bin overnight and spread it everywhere
6) Rabbits who eat shoes
7) Scents that don’t smell anything like they’re supposed to
8) Working all day on a pattern and having to restart it at the last minute
9) Finding a really beautiful frame and not being able to add it to my collection because it’s a stand frame only
10) Sour sweets that are that tiny bit too sour
11) Mobile phone networks that can’t maintain their SMS services
12) Ebay sellers that don’t post the items you buy from them
13) Rabbits who chew through phone chargers
14) Chairs that collapse underneath you
15) Running out of chocolate
16) That itch in the middle of your back that you can’t quite reach from any angle
17) Not being able to sleep
18) Finally falling asleep after hours of trying, sleeping for an hour and then waking up and being wide awake
19) Undiagnosed shoulder pains
20) Getting down to 10 mahjong tiles and finding you can go no further
21) People who are inconsiderate
22) People who are narrowminded
23) People who are rude
24) People who are cruel
25) People who mistreat dogs
26) Headaches
27) Animals that go running across laptops, closing the windows I have open
28) Not having enough bookshelves for all your books
29) Having too many outgoings for your incomings
30) Stitching calluses that haven’t reached callus point and are just sores
31) Scouse accents
32) Brummie accents
33) White boys pretending to be black
34) Having to miss quidditch games because of having no internet/computer
35) Companies who can’t give me the same information twice
36) Companies who put typos on forms and try to charge me £80 when I’m actually still under warranty
37) Boyfriends who live too far away for instant cuddles
38) Being bugged by everything but not being able to pinpoint it to a list
39) That Subway doesn’t deliver
40) That KFC doesn’t deliver
41) People who make assumptions about me and my life based on their own
42) Having to tidy up for strangers
43) Not having the cojones to follow my own advice
44) Stupid Miami crime scene investigators and their annoying habit of stating the bleeding obvious
45) Losing a slipper
46) Beds that fall apart when you’re sleeping on them
47) Not having a decent functioning sewing machine
48) Facing the possibility of failing the same challenge twice
49) Feeling guilty for not being able to think of 20 things I love about my boyfriend and my best friends
50) Craving a food you can only get in another country
51) Knowing a million good medical, physical and emotional reasons for having to lose weight, and still not wanting to
52) Father’s day
53) Shops that incessantly harp on about father’s day
54) Father/daughter movies and tv shows
55) Landlords that don’t make repairs when they say they will
56) Being afraid to ask landlords about said repairs because of past rent issues
57) Owning a beautiful blanket box that I was given for free, and it not closing properly but not knowing what to do to fix it
58) Bad tv signal
59) Bloody huge trees preventing me getting Sky cos it blocks the signal
60) Not being in a cabled area for Virgin TV
61) Gas companies that insist they’ve been supplying you and try to charge you while another company is saying the same thing
62) Waiting months for an important medical appointment, then going to the wrong bloody place
63) Doctors who tell you that your physical issues are “growing pains”
64) Doctors who tell you that your physical issues are “cos you’re fat”
65) Writer’s block
66) Finally completing a series of books to find out there’s a new one and you can’t afford it
67) The itchy burn of leg hair growing back
68) Constant ankle pain
69) Horatio Caine’s sunglasses
70) Not spotting the cat puke you’re about to stand in
71) Depression
72) Dehydration headaches
73) Spending more time on the loo than off it
74) Settling in for a long hot bubble bath, and running out of hot water
75) Not seeing your boyfriend for four months
76) Being bored
77) Horror movie characters who just accept that the bad guy is dead
78) “permanent” ink that’s not permanent
79) Hating the mess of your house but having no inclination to tidy it
80) Having no “oomph”
81) Fat sores
82) Chub rub
83) Reformatting my PC and forgetting I don’t have Microsoft Office
84) People who don’t get back to you when they say they will
85) Having to wait for anything
86) Itchy knees
87) Not knowing when something will be delivered
88) Waiting in for a delivery due between 9 and 5 that arrives at 4.50
89) That my baby sister is getting wed before me
90) Temperatures above 10°c
91) Typos in published books and magazines
92) Anne Robinson
93) Idiots who get easy questions wrong on game shows
94) The over-sensitivity of my laptop mouse-pad
95) The under-sensitivity of my bottom mouse button
96) Only remembering to wear my glasses when it’s too late to stop the headache
97) Treacle
98) Waking up early and not being able to get back to sleep
99) Getting 30 emails in a day and not a single one being from an actual person
100) That floss spindles that are cardboard get tatty quickly, but the writing doesn’t stay on plastic ones

Current saved total: £40
Current donated total: £65

General update

Hey there internet. How are you? Good? I hope everyone is well. It sucks to feel horrible. Things are definitely getting better for me. My relationship with Neil is back on track, my relationships with my sisters are getting better too.

I'm feeling healthier and more hopeful and optimistic and just generally less depressed. I'm still having trouble getting into a routine though. I drew up a daily timetable for myself a few weeks ago. A regular time to wake up, chores and things throughout the day, a scheduled bedtime. Something to give me a routine (which I don't thing I've ever really been able to impose on myself) and to remind me to do the important things that I forget to do - like take my pills, and take the trash out, and feed the pets.

The problem is that the timetable means getting up at 9am, and I seem to be incapable of doing that. I got out of my nocturnal living when I went to Neil's. I was up in the morning, and asleep at a decent time. I planned to continue it when I went home. I even went to bed at midnight, a la my timetable. I woke up at 9am, got up, went to the bathroom, fell asleep on the loo, fell off and smacked my head on the sink. Fun.

So I got to thinking. Although 8 hours a night is average and accepted and recommended and all that, my body is more used to 13-15 hours sleep a night. Maybe instantly cutting my sleeping time in half was upsetting my body? Maybe I should decrease the sleep gradually? So I went back to bed, setting the alarm for 11. I'd get up at 11 for a week or so, then 10 for a week or so. Ending up at 9am, a la the timetable.

I woke up at 3pm. Now it's all a mess again. Didn't get to sleep until nearly 8 this morning, slept til gone 6. Big mess!

So, new plan. I NEED a routine. And if I can't get my body to start the timetable, then I'll change the timetable. I'm gonna create a new one for getting up at 1pm and do that for a few weeks, then one for getting up at 12. Get up earlier until I'm settled.

Come September I need to be getting up at 7am in the morning every day, or earlier. I don't think I've mentioned why yet, but I will. When it's definite. Not sure yet. But at the moment the idea of getting up before 7 every day seems impossible. I need to work on it!

In other news, I started back at Weightwatchers last night. While I was at Neil's we were talking about the future, and about our honeymoon in Disneyland (if he ever gets around to proposing!) and about how I'll be able to go on the rides there because it's America and they have fat seats. Somehow the conversation got around to our kids, and what I'd say to them when they wanted me to go on rides with them and I was too big. So, inspired to start back at Weightwatchers. Again.

I was terrified about the weigh-in. When I tried Slimming World earlier in the year I was very, VERY close to 30 stone. I was scared I'd passed that barrier. I don't care about my weight. I don't look like I weigh as much as I do. My only reason for losing weight is my future kids. With my ovary issues the chances of even getting pregnant without significant weight loss are ridiculously slim. It'd be nice to be able to buy clothes from more than one shop too. But for some reason, crossing that 30 stone barrier terrified me!

The good news is that I didn't. I was two lbs less than I was when I was last weighed at Slimming World. So in the past two or three months I managed to lose two lbs, which is good. Wish me luck on losing more :-)