Finding new friends in fiction....

Being a little unwell at the moment, unemployed and with more time on my hands I have at least been able to indulge in my passion for reading. New books are a luxury for me - I refuse to pay retail prices and so sort through trift shops and charity boxes for my literary fixes. My partner has struck up a deal with one of his co-workers and also brings me home bags of free books in return for my cast offs. The only problem is my donor is a more prolific reader than me, plus I'm a bit of a hoarder - if I enjoy a book I put it aside "for emergencies" in case I want to read it again - so unfortunately (for my donor) the traffic has been more in my favour recently.

Anyway... I am one of those people who always has to see a book through to the end - if I've started it I will finish it - even if I'm not liking it. I think I have only ever not finished 3 books in my life - although Robinson Crusoe nearly came a close 4th. I will read almost anything as I have eclectic taste, and I revel in classical literature just as much as modern "throw away" Chick Lit. Robinson Crusoe was one of those books I stumbled across many years ago at a book fair and thought I "ought" to read. Well, it started off well enough, but once he is marooned on his island it does get a little like wading through treacle. I stopped reading it. I put it aside and decided to read something more lighthearted and return to it later. Which, true to form, I did (though more than one book passed through my hands before I picked him up again). As I described it to a friend of mine at the time "Well, the poor chap's been stuck on that island for twenty three years, I'm sure another few months won't make much difference."

As my current books are donated I don't have much say in the subject, tone or genre that I receive. So I am treating it a bit like an educational exercise, and broadening my horizons. Two recent books that I have picked up have looked initially promising, but not started well. Had I not given them a fair chance then I may well have discarded them; but they were by well known authors and so as usual I persevered. And I am so glad that I did. The characters and story lines in both soon gripped me and I was tumbling headlong into a new world that only a well written book can bring to life. I raced through to the end of both - and have dug out more books by the same writers to follow on with.

I feel as though a whole new set of friends are waiting for me...

Day 13 - I'm still here...

Today is Day 13 on the meds... ...so how am I doing?

Well, I meant to post an update before now, so maybe that is somewhat indicative of how I am feeling. The first hurdle for me is to avoid/get through the side effects that inevitably come with any new pills. It is well documented that with all these types of medicines there is a period of time needed before any positive benefit is felt, and it is during this time that the side effects are at their worst. Basically, when the side effects start to ease then the pills are doing their stuff.

If you read the information leaflet that comes with these - or in fact most pills these days - you would not touch them with a barge pole. They range from sickness to insomnia, severe agitation to breathlessness, weight gain to blurred vision; and that's just the tip of the iceberg. So looking back over the last 2 weeks, I've probably not had it too bad...

Yes, I feel a bit queasy now and again - but an infusion of root ginger in boiling water soon sorts that out (add just a smidge of sugar and it's really quite nice - great tip - try it also for morning sickness!). For the first few days it felt like my brain was swimming through treacle - cognitive thoughts were taking their time to filter through and my mouth was about two seconds behind my brain. Also I have been terribly sleepy - not a bad thing - I just lie down until the feeling goes away! Then I have also had the jitters, a shakiness that is like a permanent shiver, but without feeling cold; I guess that this is how an addict may feel when they need their next fix... And my eyes have been affected too - my vision is blurred, my pupils are dilated, so it is difficult to focus at times, and I have been wearing my glasses a heck of a lot more. Finally are the dreaded "negative thoughts" that are much warned about in both the information leaflet and in virtually every article you read on this subject. Apparently this drug may cause the taker to have a higher level of, and more frequent, negative thoughts and feelings - which you can understand may lead to traumatic consequences, especially for those taking the stuff for depression. The only evidence I have of this in myself is that since starting to take the pills I have been more nervous that usual of leaving the house. I will go out if accompanied (dragged) and only for a short time - but today I had a breakthrough and went out for the first time on my own in these last 13 days!

So, that's kind of where I am now. I started my first 6 days on a quarter dose, and when I felt so much better on day six I put myself up to a half dose on day seven - which I intend to follow for at least another week before I up it again. Yes, I have been feeling pretty ropey, but nothing like how bad I thought it might be given my previous experiences; and I'm in this for the long haul, so I need to just keep plugging away. My partner has been wonderfully supportive, he realises that this is something that could potentially help me get back on my feet again and is allowing me to take things pretty much at my own pace. And I had a bit of an epiphany on day 6 too... I realised that the silent little voice (oxymoron, I know) at the back of my head which is normally screaming "Oh sh*t, I really can't do this, I can't cope, get me out of here!" was just simply crooning "Hey girl, we can do this..."

Hmmm, yes, I think we can....

Friends Un-Re-United....

Planning your wedding, I am finding, is a great way to get back in touch with those friends that have somehow slipped away over the years. We are building our guest list and I would like to invite all the people who have helped and supported me over the years - my little way of saying thank you.

Now you're probably thinking - if these people have been such good friends, then why are you no longer in contact with them? Good point. But then life happens. People move, jobs change, couples split up, you get sick - whatever. It happens.
I have often regretted losing contact with a few of my past buddies, and I confess that this is probably of my own doing - though not intentional. I am not a good correspondant. I get embarrassed. When life has dealt me a bowl of sh*t, then the last thing I want to do is talk or write about it to my friends - I want to share happy news and successes and more positive stuff. I get to feel that they won't really want to know. So I let things drop. Then time passes, and the longer I have left it the worse I feel and I get too shy to write...

So, with the up-coming wedding next year I have decided that I now have the perfect reason to track down some old mates, and at least let them know that this is FINALLY happening for me. Then I can get back into correspondence with them, and when it comes to sending invitiations - hey presto, they will not be totally surprised, and hopefully I will have a few more special people to share my special day with.

This being the case, I started with the ex-wife of the man for whom my ex-fiance (when I was engaged before about 12 years ago) was best man (got it so far?). I knew roughly who she worked for so I thought I might find her on an internet search - which I did in a roundabout way, not through her employer, but through an association for which she is on the board. Anyway, I wrote to her last week with trepidation, explaining how I had found her, promising that I was not a stalker and asking her to respond if she would like to renew our friendship.
To my delight, the very next day she called. I knew it was her as soon as she spoke, and we had the most fabulous chat for over two hours! It was like I had only seen her 10 days ago, not 10 years. I was chuffed to pieces! We left it that she would email me her full contact details - email address, telephone etc - and then we would arrange to meet up.

That was a week ago now - I still haven't heard from her.
I know she has internet both at work and at home.
I'm sad.
It was short.
It was sweet.
Hey ho, strike from seating plan!

Day 1 on the demon drug....

Today I have started a new course of medication.
I am a chronic anxiety sufferer who has severe debilitating panic attacks and sometimes is unable to leave the house.
Over the years (nearly 20 now) I have tried to find solutions for my problems - from medications to therapies, counselling to alternative methods. I have tried anti-depressants, tranquilisers, beta-blockers, herbal remedies, hypnotherapy, homoeopathy, acupuncture, bowen treatment, reflexology, relaxation techniques; and I have been through psychotherapy, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy and Cognitive Analytic Therapy.
Yet here I still am, still suffering, still trying to get on with as normal a life as possible - still fighting!

Today I have started what some people will call a "demon drug" - the dreaded and much maligned Seroxat. Google it yourself and you will see what a bad reputation it has. It has a kind of kill or cure following. The manufacturers have had action brought against them for the traumatic side effects it has given previous patients, and it is heralded as one of the number 1 suicide inducing drugs... Yippee! I life of joy ahead for me!

So why the bloody hell am I taking the stuff?? Well, I have tried at least half a dozen other similar drugs - none of which I have been able to tolerate. I was originally prescribed this particular monster about 12 years ago. I do not recall any nasty side effects, I was on it for about 6 months, til I felt so much better I decided to come off it, which I did gradually - and again I felt just fine. It worked for me!! (Obviously not a permanent cure - but then life does have a habit of backfiring on you!)

For those not in the know - why am I taking an anti-depressant for an anxiety condition?? I am not depressed. Well, this particular genre of meds is well known as having a secondary effect of helping to alleviate anxiety type disorders. This is not a cure. I know this. If I want to truly get better the only answer lies inside myself - only I can make myself better. But right now I need a little helping hand. Something to make the day to day living easier. Something to help give me a break, so I can have a rest, get my strength up, and then out the demons once and for all.

I will do it!

I have signed up to a great forum for Seroxat users - www.seroxatmad.co.uk - which has been wonderfully supportive to me already, I would recommend it to anyone else in my situation.
Today is just Day 1... I have taken my first dose (just a low one to begin with) and although I'm only a few hours in - so far so good!
I will be recording my progress here, and hopefully letting you know of a few other approaches I am taking to beat my condition...
...watch this space!

What do our dreams mean - I only wish I knew!

I had the weirdest dream last night – and I promise you this is true….

For some reason I was transported back to age seven – it would appear as a punishment for something. I know that it was age seven because I was having a birthday party. The problem was that although I was bodily seven years old, my mind was still thirty-something – so every thought and realisation was that of an adult.
As the moment of the party drew near I got increasingly worried that nobody would turn up; and then when the kiddies started arriving I was disappointed all over again – I didn’t like any of them. These were not my friends, these were my so-called peers that my mum had thought to invite.
Next – presents. Again, no excitement at all! I looked at my bounty and all I could see was a pile of cheap plastic tat (hmmm, there’s gratitude for you!). A lot of the presents were obviously second-hand – recycled unwanted gifts from my so-called friends – bits were missing and batteries needed replacing.
Then it was party games. All I was concerned about was would all the bouncing around make the kiddies sick – yuk!
So I did what all right-minded seven year olds would do in this nightmare scenario – I went and hid in my wardrobe! Strangely enough, nobody missed me. I remember looking at my watch, and calculating how long I would need to keep squirreled away. The invites were from 5pm til 7pm, so I figured a couple of hours would keep me safe. Pretty savvy for a seven year old, but then my brain was in thirties mode…
Later on, after my period of refuge, I ventured downstairs to face my mother’s wrath – I knew I would really be in for it!
As I walked into the sitting room I looked up at my mum, I put on my sweetest smile and apologised for my behaviour immediately. I explained that I hadn’t been feeling well and so had kept out of the way. To my astonishment my mother was all smiles too… She totally understood and said I had done the right thing. Phew!!
Next I looked out of the window – it was blowing a howling gale and my dad was out there building a chicken run. But he hates the things!!?

What does all this mean?
No, I am not on drugs.
Neither had I been eating cheese.
Still, it makes for good entertainment – so goodnight, sweet dreams and have a laugh on me!

I know he loves me because....

If I cook, he washes up.
He remembers each monthly anniversary since we met.
He kisses me every time he leaves the room.
He offers to clear up the cat sick.
He carries the shopping.
We always hold hands.
He holds me all night long.
He soothes me when I have nightmares.
He comes to all my medical appointments.
He refuses to be called my "carer", because I don't need one.
He believes in me.
He praises all my little successes.
He holds me when things get tough.
He accepts me for who I am.
He gently pushes me when I need it.
He walks the dog when it's raining.
He puts the bins out late at night even when he's just got in from work.
He thinks I look sexy in a bikini.
He washes my back when I have a bath.
He doesn't grumble when I want to watch EastEnders.
He wants to be involved in ALL our wedding plans.
He never turns down a cuddle.
He lets me wear his jumpers - and likes it when I do.
He clears the dog poo from the garden.
He doesn't complain when I have a washing accident with his clothes.
He thinks I look lovely even when my hair is greasy.
He gets out of bed if I want a midnight snack.
He understands sometimes I want to be on my own.
He still texts me everyday from work.
He helps me dye my hair.
He won't let me go up into the loft when I'm on my own.
He loves my cooking - even though he is a (damn good) chef.
He's booked us a VIP departure lounge for our honeymoon.
He notices the things that I do around the house.
He thinks I look sexy in my glasses.
He laughs at my silly jokes.
He likes my pyjamas.
He made gallons of soup when I had a big dental operation.
He really tries to understand me.
He wants to spend the rest of his life with me!!

let us remember...

When I was at school I studied war poetry for my English Literature O Level (yes, I'm that old) and here are a couple of my own feeble attempts (written aged 14, if that makes them any the more excusable).

Anyway, the sentiment remains - let us not forget...





Marching



March on, march on through wind and rain,

Through tiredness, thirst, and aching pain.

With old holed boots, and war torn coats

As the mustard gas burns their throats.

Carrying the wounded, the limbless, the sick;

The going is heavy, the mud is thick.



March on, march on - to war and glory!

But the war is old, and the battle gory.

With just one dream - to be home again

Without the war, without the pain;

They long to hold their loved ones tight

And sleep right through one peaceful night.







English War Heroes



Think of all those young lives lost,

All that suffering and pain.

So many men who gave their all -

So much loss for so little gain.

The lucky ones came home

Wounded, scarred and tired;

Home they came and brought us peace,

They should be forever admired.



They fought for England, north and south,

For every boy and girl,

They fought for black, they fought for white,

And for peace throughout the world.

The rich men and the poor men

Fought together, side by side;

They lived together, they died together,

They are our English Pride.

the point of acupuncture?

So there I am, lying on the acupuncturist's table with an enormous dilemma...

19 little needles had been carefully - not painfully though - inserted into various parts of my body; yes, I counted them in - and I was damn well going to count them all out again - you never can be too careful!
Now, let's dispel a myth here - it's true - acupuncture DOES NOT HURT. I'm not a great lover of needles, but I don't fear them either - they have a job to do, so as long as I avert my gaze they can pretty well do as they please. These little blighters are tiny. They are more like the width of a human hair than anything you might use to darn a sock with. Yes, you might feel a little prick, but it is hardly that, more of a tickle really - honestly! and once they're in, well, you'd hardly know they were there.
As each needle is inserted the sensation is really quite peculiar. You feel it more in the whole of your body than in the puncture site itself. By this I mean that as each needle hit it's spot, it also seemed to hit the spot - if you know what I mean?? Every time a needle went in I would feel a bodily tingle. Now, don't get excited, we're not talking orgasmic proportions here - but I definitely felt that each one was going to be doing something really good if this was the effect it had just placing it in me.

So, my dilemma... Being a bit of wuss, and not having gone through this particular experience before, my eyes had remained tightly closed through the process so far. But now I had been left to cook - literally: 20 minutes of relaxation under a nicely glowing heat lamp to let the little darlings work their magic - and I was on my own. Just me and the needles.
To look - or not to look?? That was the question.

OK, so I'm generally alright about needles, but this was new territory. This was somehow unnatural and a bit spooky. I had never thought I would be on trial as a human pin-cushion, and I was slightly unnerved.

I carefully opened one eye.
I looked down at my arms and my tummy.
I opened the other eye.
I looked myself up and down.

Hmmm, that's alright, not freaky at all!
Now just lie back and relax....

burp!

First post huh?
I would like to remain mysterious, be an entity unknown and have my posts read and appraised anonymously... but I have to start somewhere. They say write about what you know - well, I should know me, I have had 38 years of observaton. But do I really?
Afterall, who does know you best?
Your mother?
Your bestfriend?
Your significant other?
Or yourself?
Hmmm... I don't think the answer is as obvious as I first thought is was. Are we a different person to different people? Probably. Do we like to admit that fact? Probably not.
I am definitely a different person to my mother than I am to, say, my fiance. But then I believe I do have extenuatng circumstances. Well I would say that wouldn't I?!
I'm not just talking about the usual swearing, drinking, smoking type traits here; no, in my case it runs deeper. There are just things that my fiance knows and shares with me (or rather me with him) that I would not, for the forseeable future, share with my mother. They are not nice things - they are things from my past, things that have happened to me, experiences I have been through, and are still going through. As for the drinking - well, she knows I rarely touch it, the smoking - she's quite clear on how many I get through a day; and the swearing, well that's just something that "we don't do" in our family (her family) so I make sure I only do it when she's not around. Sometimes I even get a good lot out of my system before I see her, and then cleanse myself with a good "f**k!" "sh*t!" and "b*gg*r!" once she's gone. Oooooh, it's so very theraputic!
So, really I've told you quite a bit about myself already...
Budding Sherlock's will have picked up the clues so far; but for those of you lagging behind, here is the resume so far:

38 years old
female
engaged
mother still alive
doesn't drink
smokes
swears like a navvy
has some issues in the closet

I think that will just about do for now, don't you?