tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72008004179569063402024-03-21T06:22:25.103-07:00The Little Ginger That CouldStuff and nonsense from Mini TMini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-29505491664620008402021-06-21T08:41:00.000-07:002021-06-21T08:41:22.390-07:00Dealing with Father's Day<p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">So it was Father's day yesterday, a day to celebrate your da or if you choose not to, that's cool. Earlier this week David received an invoice for the stored spermcicles from our failed IVF attempt in December. This was out of the blue and it threw him, so he telephoned me at work to let me know. He was sobbing a little and I started to cry too. Then he apologised and said he shouldn't have but the pain is both ours so we needed to share it.</span></div><div><p></p><div><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Mother's day was difficult for me this year, where I'd hoped to be pregnant with our warrior queens </span><a href="https://thelittlegingerthatcould.blogspot.com/2021/01/the-ballad-of-juno-and-hera-tiny.html" style="font-family: helvetica;">Juno and Hera</a><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, or at least one child, it wasn't to be. So to see everyone celebrating Mother's day with gifts from their kids (I'm lucky enough to still have my mam so I celebrated her). But I yearned for a Mother's day card from the bump (I'd never thought I'd ever want one of </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">those cards and if David had got me one, I'd probably have taken the piss truth be told but secretly loved it. Now I can't have one, it hurts).</span></p></div><div><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p></div><div><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I can only assume what I felt on Mother's day is what David felt yesterday. </span></p></div><div><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p></div><div><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And then last night, I couldn't get to sleep because all that was going around my head is the fact that we will never have a child that is biologically ours, we'll never see what our genes smashed together would create. Definitely blue eyes, but blonde or red hair? Freckles? Slightly sticking our ears? Would they need to wear glasses? What would their personality be like? Fiery like me or quiet like David? </span></p></div><div><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p></div><div><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I don't know why I'm writing this; probably catharsis, but receiving the invoice for something that wasn't to be hit us both hard. I'm still not emotionally over our IVF failure, I'm a little better. David seems to handle things better, but sometimes at night, we have a little weep over what wasn't to be.</span></p></div><div><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p></div><div><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">We're still taking a break from anything child related, aside from meeting friend's new children or seeing friends other kids. And they're always an absolute delight to be around which can make it bittersweet. We'd be incredible parents, I know we would. And I know there's still time with adoption, but for now, we need to concentrate on us and rebuilding Tara and David as a couple before IVF came in, windmilling its arms and kicking its legs, battering us.</span></p><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiddiQfmhObtjoX-_UzuSxiY27oRc8nvXenh5TG0ly3clmJ02cWgh4I1OPCqAFBIbbt82njKnP4TkgWZFd23ByH2In3O2n0zOd_sSZbpm2Juey2WfisQB0PqYTa_C5q25ASlUcs22AP7A/s426/things.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="422" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiddiQfmhObtjoX-_UzuSxiY27oRc8nvXenh5TG0ly3clmJ02cWgh4I1OPCqAFBIbbt82njKnP4TkgWZFd23ByH2In3O2n0zOd_sSZbpm2Juey2WfisQB0PqYTa_C5q25ASlUcs22AP7A/s320/things.png" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="x_MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p></div></div>Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-11441043470389074642021-01-24T09:51:00.002-08:002021-01-24T09:55:57.755-08:00The Ballad of Juno and Hera – Tiny Invisible Warrior Queens<p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Trigger warning: Infertility and IVF failure</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLepQLW7PPgHCXtM9ijElAKAzV1dDhtvLWHtcirmUoeQV03prnKOAtfr24hoKQLkfECm7dBKvjJnSTJYwo8ESOMGBOf_0Sbyj4_vBclzeBQfz55hcMrTpefv0gLKapsIwGl8abLtmyw/s1819/51Xhkk2m8kL._AC_UY695_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="1819" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLepQLW7PPgHCXtM9ijElAKAzV1dDhtvLWHtcirmUoeQV03prnKOAtfr24hoKQLkfECm7dBKvjJnSTJYwo8ESOMGBOf_0Sbyj4_vBclzeBQfz55hcMrTpefv0gLKapsIwGl8abLtmyw/s320/51Xhkk2m8kL._AC_UY695_.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I try to never get carried away with things because that way
disappointment lies. Also, because I’m from Coventry and we never get excited
about anything ever. It’s not in our genetic make up. So, when I underwent IVF
in November, I told myself to not get carried away. I expressly warned myself
not to. So, of course I did, didn’t I?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I didn’t outwardly get carried away, just inside my head.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Our IVF journey was a tough old slog. I was too fat and so
was referred to the infertility team as well as the bariatric service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had most of my stomach removed to qualify
for IVF, just missed out on free IVF because my BMI was 32 and its free for
those (aged 39 and 11 months or younger) with BMI of 30 or below. Missed out
due to age and being fat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Before my bariatric surgery, I remember sitting in the IKEA café
one Saturday with David and stating that if we don’t qualify for free IVF, we
won’t pay for it. We wanted to (and still do) be parents and so we’d go down
the adoption route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He agreed and we
shook on it over a slice of Daim cake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK919td4pG8OfM_1vz9o6saA738XzZUTYSoxBHWTXRjog1Ta0vBwOSLA9Gwg6rOPSEToKreb9OAMFDNoQktkOmIZj0NNFe4AJSiYIE9sSvyUju6NGjO-5YbFn91ZTculePWsoMDmzXSw/s320/daim+cake.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK919td4pG8OfM_1vz9o6saA738XzZUTYSoxBHWTXRjog1Ta0vBwOSLA9Gwg6rOPSEToKreb9OAMFDNoQktkOmIZj0NNFe4AJSiYIE9sSvyUju6NGjO-5YbFn91ZTculePWsoMDmzXSw/s0/daim+cake.jpg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I mentioned the Daim Cake Deal to my mam and she instantly
offered to pay for a round of IVF. I turned her down because it’s an astronomical
amount of money for something that isn’t guaranteed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want her to waste money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">So, as mentioned, we didn’t qualify for free IVF.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mentioned to friends about my mam’s offer
and everyone told me I should take her up on it because obviously she loves me
and she’d benefit too, she only has one grandchild.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you know your mam always wants good
things for you so after discussion, we agreed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>David’s dad paid for the first round of medications.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">So we waited. And we waited some more. Every month I got my
period, I called the Centre for Reproductive Medicine (CRM from here on in) to
arrange for a transvaginal ultrasound on day three of my period (not nearly as
fun as it sounds…) and there was always something, my womb lining was too thick
or there was already a follicle (egg) forming in my ovary. It took forever.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">In the meantime, one of my best friends had been through IVF
and been successful so I took heart from that. My circle of best friends is so
close knit and tight. There are seven of us and yeah we occasionally have
squabbles and fall outs, but I love them all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Only thing now, I’m the only childless one in the group and it can get
really difficult when we chat or meet up because they all have a shared
experience of pregnancy and having children and I don’t have that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And obviously the conversations about their
kids can get to me because I have literally nothing to add.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that’s no-ones fault but sometimes I feel
a bit left out, even though they do their best to not do that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re a brilliant bunch of strong funny smart
women and I love the bones of them all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Following
the IVF failure I got a beautiful bunch of flowers and chocolates from them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, the house resembled a florists at one
point!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">COVID delayed treatment as well and then some of our
medications had run out so we had to buy MORE. It really was a shitty time of
it. But I soldiered on, did the injections ready for the egg retrieval.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eggs retrieved on 20 November under sedation,
legs clamped apart with my fanny on show to the world and his wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">When I came round, the consultant who did the retrieval came
and saw me and told me that they’d managed to retrieve two single eggs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He couldn’t retrieve from my left ovary because they discovered that day
that my left ovary is attached to my abdomen and he couldn’t get in to get them
without injuring me severely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So two
teeny tiny eggs, and I heard him telling the other women on the ward how many
eggs he’d retrieved from them and I had a bit of a cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely it wasn’t ever going to work for us
was it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before I left, the andrologist
came and told me that they’d fertilised the two eggs and they’d call me the
next day to let me know how they got on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Against everything, they both fertilised. I’d prepared to be
devastated then but no it was great news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They’d began to divide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went
back on the Monday for both fertilised eggs to be put back in (another legs
clamped apart, fanny on show).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d joked
with a friend about them replacing them with a blow pipe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I nicknamed them my little space invaders.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Then the two week wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And that’s when my imagination took over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of COURSE they were both going to develop and
become babies, and they would be twin girls, my warrior queens: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juno_(mythology)">Juno </a>and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hera">Hera</a>.
One red head like me, one dark haired like David. Strong tough independent
women. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was going to perfect. I was
going to be as good a mama as I could be, having learned from the best, my own
mam and David is just made to be a dad. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due
to the medication I was on, I was getting pregnancy symptoms down to the
heightened sense of smell.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I’d hoped for an early Xmas present when I took the first pregnancy
test on 7 December. But it wasn’t to be. I did another test, naively and of
course it was negative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We cried
together, David’s sobs were from his very soul, I haven’t heard him cry like
that since his mum died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I instantly
apologised to him and he asked why I was apologising. I felt it was my fault, I
felt like I failed him and everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t
describe the feelings of guilt I had, and still do have to some extent even
though realistically I KNOW its not my fault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Telling our parents was so horrible, my mam was in tears and
so was David’s dad when he phoned him to let him know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I apologised to them too. I felt like I’d let
them down, and it was an expensive failure too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">It affected me so much that the GP signed me off with
depression due to a grief reaction. I start back tomorrow, I think I’m ready.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">We had Xmas coming up and I was not looking forward to it at
all but it wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be although obviously not as amazing
as if I had been pregnant.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Weird things triggered me like seeing a pack of invitations
to a Baby Shower, not something I’d have wanted but just now I couldn’t have
one. Didn’t want to go out, that’s where babies and happy couples with babies
and toddlers and pregnant people were. I’ve Why Me’d virtually every day since
That Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And people with their ‘well it
wasn’t meant to be’ or ‘this is all part of your journey’, I mean I know you
mean well but you can fuck ALL the way off with that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Occasionally, we sit at the weekend, usually after too much
gin, and cry about our lost warrior queens, about how unfair it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like I’ve lost a part of me when I got
the negative result, I’ve lost some of the shine in my eyes. It was a part of
our lives for so long and then it just ended like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if I had the money, I wouldn’t go through
it again. The whole experience has taken its toll on my mental health and I’ve
had enough people looking at my fanny, thanks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">We’re getting there. We need to be six months clear of IVF
before we can consider adoption. Or we might just get a rescue greyhound and
have done with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">To Juno and Hera, our Tiny Warrior Queens.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6EH-QW5Dx1I_kOPW7ls39gAKzsqmyAZJpBNkYde_H_QaaDAZNisW4sXuizhdzfN9t_E0mqI94RVEXax6OKC7fihnah_SamXFKIYReASFaSiQnUVNCNCmHL-z1UWClACl4dLolispjg/s2048/glass.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6EH-QW5Dx1I_kOPW7ls39gAKzsqmyAZJpBNkYde_H_QaaDAZNisW4sXuizhdzfN9t_E0mqI94RVEXax6OKC7fihnah_SamXFKIYReASFaSiQnUVNCNCmHL-z1UWClACl4dLolispjg/s320/glass.jpg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><o:p></o:p><p></p>Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-52592844014141754342020-04-06T09:05:00.000-07:002020-04-06T09:33:35.416-07:00System up with the top down, got the city on lockdown.<div style="border-image: none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgecmVoM2sSK0kubXNRdl5PJ2J0pbRkyv1MACUDhIxwX5o7KaKjH5WDGCNS_tCq3oCOGuJgejN-wuTErli1bkGEu8DNbG5QXFV6tiBmZTEdVCYun_QafYOMprgaSsBG8rPNwNmWPPIoEQ/s1600/longtime.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="512" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgecmVoM2sSK0kubXNRdl5PJ2J0pbRkyv1MACUDhIxwX5o7KaKjH5WDGCNS_tCq3oCOGuJgejN-wuTErli1bkGEu8DNbG5QXFV6tiBmZTEdVCYun_QafYOMprgaSsBG8rPNwNmWPPIoEQ/s320/longtime.png" width="320" /></a><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">March was by far the longest month of
everyone’s life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was already having a
shitty 2020, even <i>before</i> the big Coro V showed up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>David and I were unable to start IVF because
some of my stupid hormone levels were too high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That hurt, as we’d been waiting so long to begin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the death of my cousin’s daughter, aged
24, Beautiful Sarah, attending her funeral in Dublin and seeing her heartbroken
friends and my heartbroken family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then
my mam was hospitalised twice whilst still in Dublin, first time with broken
ribs from a fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spent my last day in
Dublin with her in A&E in the Mater hospital and it hurt having to leave
her for the airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked so tiny
and frail and scared.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Her second spell in hospital was
longer and a bit more serious; she’d had a massive bowel infection and they
discovered she has COPD (<b><span style="color: #222222;"><a href="https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/chronic-obstructive-pulmonary-disease-copd/" target="_blank">Chronic obstructivepulmonary disease</a>)</span></b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
terrifying because I couldn’t be with her, so I was calling every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the closest I’d gotten to losing her,
and it probably wasn’t even THAT close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I think it was the helplessness, I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t visit
her or anything due to the sheer distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXQUKT6hL3LfztS-DJO9WA6vvxbq8WuVSWkcfR5S7Qls9MZGHWSVHaWd3CZQo9CkQpl_Mw2cjs4-N0fVPziYSVa-_7pczJ1PrxNcW7P6W0d58-6SsXrgpMonEfZC8ayTZ_8x1ogMnIA/s1600/spiralling.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXQUKT6hL3LfztS-DJO9WA6vvxbq8WuVSWkcfR5S7Qls9MZGHWSVHaWd3CZQo9CkQpl_Mw2cjs4-N0fVPziYSVa-_7pczJ1PrxNcW7P6W0d58-6SsXrgpMonEfZC8ayTZ_8x1ogMnIA/s1600/spiralling.png" /></a><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">On top of that, I’d had a falling out
on a very public forum with a family member where I was made to feel like utter
shit by a single comment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was on the
precipice of a massive spiral down into my Dark Place. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My alter ego, Cunt Face lives there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’ll tell me I’m no good, she’ll tell me
I’m worthless, and most crucially, she’ll tell me that if I kill myself, no one
will miss me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And although I was at the
top of the spiral, she shouted loud enough that no one would miss me and that I
should probably kill myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I contemplated it for a day or two,
I’ll be honest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My constant misery made
me hell to live with, spontaneously bursting into tears wherever I went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just wanted it all to stop, all my feelings
needed to just fuck off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A phone call to my GP helped; I told
her everything and she was reassuring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The fact that by February, I’d already accumulated a years’ worth of
bullshit and it had broken me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
worrying about fucking everything up with friends and family by being so
anxious and depressed, relying on alcohol to help me through (bad idea – I
potentially ruined relationships and friendships this way).</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">But I began to get through it, slowly
but surely, the spontaneous tears stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The feelings of despair began to subside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things were going a okay in Tara
World….things were looking up….</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Oh, hello <a href="https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/coronavirus-covid-19/" target="_blank">Covid-19</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me clarify, I don’t have it but I’m terrified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing about this whole situation is
that virtually everyone is in the same shitty rust covered boat, if you can
take any solace from that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re all now
living in some weird dystopian time where we’re having to practice social
distancing (some of us better than others), working from home is the norm for
most people (quite how you all don’t just spend the day <a href="https://youtu.be/IW3lhfVpLL4" target="_blank">wanking</a>, I’ll never
know).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But no social interaction aside
from with the people you’re living with (bad luck, David).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have friends who live alone and who haven’t
seen another soul for two weeks, how isolating is that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How much must that affect your mental
health?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I’m upset because I
can’t visit my folks and they’re not tech savvy enough to have WhatsApp or Zoom
or whatever else platform you use where you can facetime people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m lucky because they’re both still
here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People who have the big Coro V are
dying alone because they can’t have visitors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Imagine dying scared and alone…its gut wrenching to think about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The world is a fucked-up place right
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Writing is useful for me to get all
the crap out of my head and into my shitty little blog where I appear to be
full of my own self-importance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well,
buster, it’s my blog and I can post whatever the hell I like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s heartening that in this unprecedented
time that MOST people are being decent and caring, a lot are being cunts and
attacking key workers or spitting at people, or just going out and about like
fuck all is happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And those who
don’t social distance, don’t get me started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’d love to think that when all this is done and dusted, society will be
a brighter, nicer place, but the pessimist in me says it won’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People will go back to their own selfish
ways…I hope I’m proved wrong. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Sarah Maguire </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">1995 - 2020 </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Always remembered, forever loved</span></div>
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Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-11500787924437994922018-05-21T07:22:00.000-07:002018-05-21T07:23:09.567-07:00*Taps microphone* "Is this thing on?"<div style="text-align: right;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">TW: Suicide, suicidal thoughts, self harm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hiya - Thought I should probably write something in connection to Mental Health Awareness Week 2018. And writing is so cathartic for me so here goes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's only me. I realise I've been pretty quiet here lately. A lot of stuff has happened in my life and subsequently, my mental health has taken a massive battering.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Firstly I quit my job, partially due to anxiety and depression and being unable to cope in that environment anymore. Subsequently, I also quit doing my radio show which has broken my heart completely but ultimately it's the right thing for me to do for me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmoA8yEpjWBZcrBw9NSyBPFQkE-mHdf4LI55HwEORgxFH-80RyenkIBQGoRM2mp_7xtaHnWAa4t52q6Av6p8hHjMVRHzshPAn0THmcqpstm_tfDgXrbjlvXzriBEu-NCKe7HeVrEmZlg/s1600/1950s-sarcastic-housewife-meme-slacker-wine-vacuum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And my beloved auntie Marie died on 30 April. It was expected but it didn't make it any less sad when she died. You might remember her from some of my blog posts here (sorry, that was terribly Troy McLure, wasn't it?) She was so well loved and will be missed by almost everyone who knew her. She was buried on what would have been her 80th birthday. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My recent mental health battering really affected me terribly, I self harmed and had contemplated suicide...I didn't want to die, just for everything to stop and for the anxiety and depressive thoughts to cease. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Suicide has been talked about quite a bit recently, due to an incredibly moving and powerful storyline in Coronation Street which saw Aiden Connor to take his own life. The reactions of the neighbourhood, his family and friends was so well observed - the denial, the cries of 'selfish' and 'coward' - and the acting has been absolutely outstanding, particularly Richard Hawley (not THAT one) who plays Johnny, Aiden's devastated father.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_0AGElp194IpFkprRZVmeHdX0_8ObgYIxCsJFFLCmhP8NMlDQ3GkL0du_evhVFU1bsIq7GLDOVWcqMdGhJzQI-oa1C8z6ot2eIA0HZeKua6BtREprDgEhc19okvDq21UwGpW6m4p1g/s1600/ko.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_0AGElp194IpFkprRZVmeHdX0_8ObgYIxCsJFFLCmhP8NMlDQ3GkL0du_evhVFU1bsIq7GLDOVWcqMdGhJzQI-oa1C8z6ot2eIA0HZeKua6BtREprDgEhc19okvDq21UwGpW6m4p1g/s320/ko.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was asked why I would put myself through watching, given the horrible few months I've had; I think some of it was to see how it was handled (they worked with <a href="https://www.thecalmzone.net/about-calm/what-is-calm/" target="_blank">CALM</a> and The <a href="https://www.samaritans.org/" target="_blank">Samaritans</a> to get it right), but I think the main part was to try to get myself out of that mind set - to see how those chara</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3VsTPC1kLYL3bLR8_nal-6KhB5LS7tgaP-St-GJ43TO0-oFYwEoifu5JKQIwLDoiYdVS3D3y-1WQO0M_XdECHn6FOp_MJAsuxJK_WUzl91yiI4vpouJp8V8byXfloqfYVgWdg1I3Bw/s1600/mam+dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 16px; margin-left: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">cters reacted to Aiden taking his life, is that how my friends and family would react? And I know how messed up that is but now I've written it down, it's out there and it's probably the main reason I watched it. I was able to snap myself out of the suicidal thoughts and the thoughts of harm, but I'm still depressed and suffering with massive anxiety. I was so down, I didn't even look forward to my birthday, and as a lot of you know, I LOVE having about a billion birthday parties. I spent my birthday with my gorgeous parents wandering around Nuneaton, trying to buy shoes for my auntie's funeral. Got an ice cream out of it though.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm not working now (I'm technically a House Wife) I'm alone more with my thoughts, and I'm trying my best to distract myself. It's so easy to wallow and sink, but I need to swim up and keep going. I am good enough, I will get another job, I have the love and support of my wonderful husband and family, and<span style="color: #000120;"> friends.</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmoA8yEpjWBZcrBw9NSyBPFQkE-mHdf4LI55HwEORgxFH-80RyenkIBQGoRM2mp_7xtaHnWAa4t52q6Av6p8hHjMVRHzshPAn0THmcqpstm_tfDgXrbjlvXzriBEu-NCKe7HeVrEmZlg/s1600/1950s-sarcastic-housewife-meme-slacker-wine-vacuum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmoA8yEpjWBZcrBw9NSyBPFQkE-mHdf4LI55HwEORgxFH-80RyenkIBQGoRM2mp_7xtaHnWAa4t52q6Av6p8hHjMVRHzshPAn0THmcqpstm_tfDgXrbjlvXzriBEu-NCKe7HeVrEmZlg/s320/1950s-sarcastic-housewife-meme-slacker-wine-vacuum.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #000120; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Basically, this is just a catch up of my life recently (it wasn't all doom and gloom, David and I had an absolutely incredible holiday in Croatia where we befriended about a billion cats). I think I just wanted to let y'all know what's been going on and to remind you that it's okay to not be okay. It's okay to be emotional, toxic masculinity is so prevalent in our society that men in particular feel they need to 'Man Up' (a dreadful phrase). Cry, scream, wail, talk to someone, please. No-one else can play your part, you're a unique and beautiful being. You absolutely deserve your place here on this planet. Please never feel you don't.</span></span><br />
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Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-60331359994824875602018-02-02T03:35:00.000-08:002018-02-02T03:35:40.785-08:00I WANNA SAUSAGE ROLL ALL NIGHT (AND PARTY EVERY DAY)<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I<span style="font-family: "calibri";"> have to eat a sausage roll today and I'm freaking right the fuck out.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPU9cIJb5RxvU7sgk8VxsvyDvKAVlaX0Ols0-76Ou8rq_DL2tWm9vnA7x0T6q7s2PuvZmv-b-ekn0JPhFc7lxYzXcXw2RXlIvP4Jv9wFboyd9ICGP5Qq1hiTZCE46Lsygq6TtIGPDhIw/s1600/artisan-sausage-rolls-served.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 16px; margin-left: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPU9cIJb5RxvU7sgk8VxsvyDvKAVlaX0Ols0-76Ou8rq_DL2tWm9vnA7x0T6q7s2PuvZmv-b-ekn0JPhFc7lxYzXcXw2RXlIvP4Jv9wFboyd9ICGP5Qq1hiTZCE46Lsygq6TtIGPDhIw/s320/artisan-sausage-rolls-served.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></span></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Frequent readers of this blog will probably know (because I
don’t stop banging on about it), since my weight loss surgery, I’ve developed a
fear of some foods. I’m seeing a psychologist and things have been going
great, until now. My anxiety is increasing with the thought of having to
eat this pissing sausage roll… and I know how much of a hardship it sounds,
I’ve already had people say ‘I’ll do it for you’, and yes it does make me smile
the 93rd time I hear it, part of me is thinking ‘if you could please, that’d be
ace.’</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’ve been rather jolly and joking about the fact that I am
having to eat a sausage roll in a medical setting, but as the day draws closer,
I’m not finding it quite so funny</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My <span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">psychologist and me are working using something called
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Systematic_desensitization" target="_blank">Graded Exposure Therapy</a> (minds OUT of the gutter please). So far we’ve
ranked the foods I’m scared of hierarchically with the most feared
(bread/pizza/doughnuts) at the top of the list and the least feared (pastry) at
the bottom and all the stages (fruit/veg, rice, pasta etc.) in between.
I’d been so blasé with the psychologist about it, I thought I’d be fine, but
now as the day draws ever near (I’d convinced myself it was actually NEXT
Friday) the familiar anxiety beats kick in; racing thoughts, palpitations,
inability to sit still, fidgeting. They’re not as pronounced as they once
were, and if I can’t sleep, my brain STILL makes me recite the cooking in
prison scene from Goodfellas. <span style="font-family: "calibri";">So we’ll see what 2pm holds, I guess.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In other news, I’ve been back at work now for three
weeks (two weeks of half days, almost one of full) and I’ve gotten on okay
(other than a bit of a blip last week when on top of all the changes made in my
absence –staff changes, management changes etc. – I had a bit of a kick off and
almost left because of <i>another </i>change that they dropped on me).
It’s good to be back in a routine, to have something to get up and go out
for. My colleagues have all been brilliant too, trying to compliment me
on my weight loss (I don’t take compliments well so I try to fire back a
self-derogatory remark because it’s an automatic defence mechanism I’ve
developed over my life), asking how I’m getting on and genuinely giving a shit
about me and the state of my mental health which is extremely
encouraging. Some people are scared to discuss mental health at work, but
I absolutely advocate it. A simple ‘How are you feeling?’ or ‘Are you
okay?’ could make the world of difference.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">TL:DR? SAUSAGE FUCKING ROLLS</span></div>
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Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-846276121370574872018-01-09T05:27:00.000-08:002018-01-09T05:27:55.297-08:00Return of the TwatSo gang, that's it...no more sitting in my pyjamas all day, lusting over Gordon Ramsay or getting enraged at Jeremy Kyle...my return to work is IMMINENT.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt4wOnuoBfv_EDSo3P2TaSXdZIoMpQ3f5zxHXEh1Umlz8uAb5QkGsSmjv7vt8qTgz3bFBIbfKybpDiuqZCSr0SIjfPB6u1JX_ndfYZnGds9kMs2RojZsUAMpfMWthAG3bDPyUp2bSK9g/s1600/jeremy-kyle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="620" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt4wOnuoBfv_EDSo3P2TaSXdZIoMpQ3f5zxHXEh1Umlz8uAb5QkGsSmjv7vt8qTgz3bFBIbfKybpDiuqZCSr0SIjfPB6u1JX_ndfYZnGds9kMs2RojZsUAMpfMWthAG3bDPyUp2bSK9g/s320/jeremy-kyle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Readers of this blog will know that following my gastric sleeve surgery, my brain went a bit (well, a LOT) wrong and I effectively had a bit of a breakdown. I've been off work since July 2017, moping, crying, not being able to eat etc. I cried out for psychological input and thankfully I am now receiving some therapy from one of the bariatric psychologists at the hospital. We're still tinkering and working on the plan that will hopefully rid me of my phobias surrounding food and vomiting, and we're also going to do work on my anxiety.<br />
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Blogging has really helped me through this period in my life. I genuinely hadn't expected to have a meltdown surrounding my surgery, didn't even consider it, let alone develop food phobias that have effectively put me on the eating disorders spectrum (according to my GP anyway).<br />
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I'm always very honest and open in my blog; I wear my heart on my sleeve and (just to use another old cliche) my life is pretty much an open book. I had to blog for the sake of my sanity. It's cathartic for me to do so.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-NxosBnSP8uPcEmfuPIWtSU_qYo-Ylu0ImKGGVv9UJajQdNU-AXVo-1OoNWo4Wr57xCmeO2FZceYXie8HR2W1vXFh6up7aUa5lCPZ3gNuqdEOz4XS78XYH2RnGyeZPb0AU1lW2Kwpg/s1600/eeyore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="405" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-NxosBnSP8uPcEmfuPIWtSU_qYo-Ylu0ImKGGVv9UJajQdNU-AXVo-1OoNWo4Wr57xCmeO2FZceYXie8HR2W1vXFh6up7aUa5lCPZ3gNuqdEOz4XS78XYH2RnGyeZPb0AU1lW2Kwpg/s320/eeyore.jpg" width="259" /></a>But, yes, back to work on Friday 12 Jan. It's a phased return so I should be back to full duties the first week of February or so. Of course I'm anxious about going back, the team has changed significantly (three members of staff resigned, one was dismissed), leaving the office resembling the Mary Celeste. But one thing I know I can do is to only do the work I can, I shan't be stressing myself out about work because that way another breakdown lies. I've learned to leave work at work (and I know I'm lucky to be in a position where I can do just that). I have to look out for ME now, I'm quite good at neglecting me and focussing on others or other things, but if I don't look out for me now, then who else will? That isn't to say that the support I've received over these six months hasn't been phenomenal with special thanks going to David, my mam and the rest of the family and of course my friends. But I know the signs of my mental health going down and so I must keep an eye on that and I'm the best person to do that (I think anyway).<br />
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To assist my return to work, I've written an email to my manager and asked her to disseminate it to the department. Essentially it's a polite request that folk don't ask me about my surgery or how much weight I've lost (yes, I know I've been blogging about it, but that's different in so far as the readers of this blog won't be all up in my grill asking me if I can't eat cakes anymore or why I'm frightened of pasta). If I want people to know, I'll tell them. This is purely an exercise in self preservation.<br />
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I'm so lucky to have such wonderful people in my life (in my real life and the internet world) who have been so caring and although I realise my fears surrounding food and vomiting are difficult to understand, thanks for not being dicks about it. You've all showed me some support in some way or another and that means the absolute world to me. <br />
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I'll continue blogging about stuff, especially as my BMI is low enough for us to begin IVF (have to wait til May for another appointment and there'll be discussion surrounding whether my innards have healed well enough etc.) but I'm actually quite hopeful, and I try to not be hopeful for anything because I tend to get let down (eternal pessimist, just call me Eeyore) but maybe this will be a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xr8auZq-Xn8" target="_blank">Good Year.</a>Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-65911778304763238202017-12-12T09:38:00.001-08:002017-12-12T09:38:58.444-08:00Tara Court is feeling (slightly) better.<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5NGfVq2zLN644qsUlGN7xm3KQccLJ2PXoBuzuZqEG4Vn1edMhqGnjpGDJDSxouJjTmSH4OJ2bns6SnQqliqshF_JDIXGQIwUSIj6oFcDcYd3pQNSKDqvz2PLYzlD7os6UvdqD4ROF5Q/s1600/haimark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5NGfVq2zLN644qsUlGN7xm3KQccLJ2PXoBuzuZqEG4Vn1edMhqGnjpGDJDSxouJjTmSH4OJ2bns6SnQqliqshF_JDIXGQIwUSIj6oFcDcYd3pQNSKDqvz2PLYzlD7os6UvdqD4ROF5Q/s320/haimark.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh hi.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I thought I've not filled people's FB and Twitter timelines with my banging on about mental health, weight loss, fertility problems and other such matters, so you lucky people, I'm doing a blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After asking for it in August 2017, I FINALLY got my bariatric psychology appointment through and it took place on Tuesday 5 Dec. It went pretty well, with me opening up about my food phobias and my fear of vomiting, how I'm perceived by others (especially when I'm out or when I eventually go back to work), and my fear that I've begun drinking too much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The psychologist sat and listened, didn't judge (obviously) and suggested that I see him again in two weeks so we can begin to formulate a plan of action which will include <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Systematic_desensitization" target="_blank">graduated exposure therapy</a> (I know, the title of it sounds a bit seaside postcard). I came away relatively happy.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiznhwoXpmHPOtgs21idnpl7n_xuVPGzBlZxm04jPYjZtC8MEEq158KlbK24I6uDaIwlZPmObtLq-_oCnZy4wIWT-H-JsHFewTQ5T8v-sxUtoKPZQ8MmdLCMVSpAbomR25gJXLFAj6hQ/s1600/Benny-Hill-type-humour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiznhwoXpmHPOtgs21idnpl7n_xuVPGzBlZxm04jPYjZtC8MEEq158KlbK24I6uDaIwlZPmObtLq-_oCnZy4wIWT-H-JsHFewTQ5T8v-sxUtoKPZQ8MmdLCMVSpAbomR25gJXLFAj6hQ/s320/Benny-Hill-type-humour.jpg" width="201" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Prior to seeing him, I saw the occupational health psychologist, who also sat and listened and didn't judge and was<i> supposed</i> to pass her notes on me to the new guy but must have forgotten to. Obviously, her input is to assist in a return to work. I'd said from the very beginning that all I wanted was to talk to someone in the bariatric service; a specialised psychologist who understands why people develop food phobias, why people don't eat until the hunger is gnawing at them, why people promise that they'll have some food when they've finished doing a long task (p.s. those things relate to me, though that last one is a new one that I want to get sorted out ASAP).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I saw my GP today and she has suggested that my phased return to work take place in January, following my second appointment with the psychologist; that way, if something freaks me out in the next session or stays with me and I can't process it, I have time over the Christmas period to work through it and process it without being thrown back into work. I'm happy with that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Also of note, is that we had a fertility appointment the other week which was fairly positive. My BMI needs to be 35 or below before they begin treatment and I'm pretty much there. What with having abdominal surgery though, they can't actually do anything until maybe a year post surgery which will take us to July. My insides need to heal. I'm very aware of my age and so was the consultant who said that a) we're already funded for a round of IVF and b) he'll bring out case up with the head of department because our case is such a rare one. We have another appointment in May and I guess we'll find out what's going to happen then. I initially felt positive following that appointment, but I'm a natural pessimist so we'll have to see what happens.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVTN9ga27bhA11IfbXwQTs7H6mxs7ZjrtkaMI8VR-svISaebi8jpAswis4lzmFaujJ0Tca3J6s2MoW7bHVLrigZdy2wn3FDijPA5u1o7zWWMN2o2ACBgvVNfozoDZHwdrQyt96Xwsp4A/s1600/wb-883316077016-Full-Image_GalleryBackground-en-US-1484000598776._RI_SX940_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="940" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVTN9ga27bhA11IfbXwQTs7H6mxs7ZjrtkaMI8VR-svISaebi8jpAswis4lzmFaujJ0Tca3J6s2MoW7bHVLrigZdy2wn3FDijPA5u1o7zWWMN2o2ACBgvVNfozoDZHwdrQyt96Xwsp4A/s320/wb-883316077016-Full-Image_GalleryBackground-en-US-1484000598776._RI_SX940_.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">My sleep pattern is still way off, with lying awake for hours trying to nod off whilst simultaneously <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">reciting the whole of Goodfellas in my head (it's not as much fun as it sounds), but all in all, I</span><i> am</i> feeling better, more positive...relatively happy with my weight loss (the dietician keeps telling me I'm doing brilliantly but I think I could have and should have lost more...). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My folks are concerned that I'm losing weight too quickly, but as I explained, post surgery is when the weight falls off because you have to get used to new eating patterns and habits (something I haven't really done yet - but I will). My hair loss continues to concern me to the point where I've considered shaving it all off for a charity and beginning again. People tell me that they can't see a difference, but I can feel a difference and when I wash my hair and handfuls of my hair comes out, it makes me feel like shit. I KNOW it'll grow back, but my hair is the thing that defines me, I really wish it wasn't falling out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And there I go, starting a blog fairly positively, and finishing on a negative. Typical me, I guess. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">TL:DR; I'm doing better now, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=al896JFvQNg" target="_blank">thanks</a>.</span></div>
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Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-35268873759105600032017-10-18T08:42:00.002-07:002017-10-18T08:52:16.363-07:00Snapshots<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhl0tIeFKdFW7uA5fbLhHXDTlhEcOBQ0rgPOg7ORdrd66qt9ExuwcJoR-k4LPVcCxH7WHgAThDhwV43qIXiyMykf5CyWrxGmrAhBOH-lYORJuYHltHfyKFalWjIRd5X0kfdqkV0oLgg/s1600/Amsterdam-overview-canalnighttime-xlarge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1280" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhl0tIeFKdFW7uA5fbLhHXDTlhEcOBQ0rgPOg7ORdrd66qt9ExuwcJoR-k4LPVcCxH7WHgAThDhwV43qIXiyMykf5CyWrxGmrAhBOH-lYORJuYHltHfyKFalWjIRd5X0kfdqkV0oLgg/s320/Amsterdam-overview-canalnighttime-xlarge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I've just come back from a much needed break away with my parents and my niece, Gabby. My folks thought I could do with the break, so they booked us to go to Amsterdam (comments about weed and sex workers are not welcome). <br />
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I felt guilty going away, I mean I'm still off sick from work with mental health issues (and issues surrounding food). I felt worried for what people would think when they saw my Facebook updates and photos. There are a few snapshots where I look happy and you wouldn't guess that I'm battling with low self esteem, self hatred and depression. Speaking to a friend, I confided my worries but I also said that snapshots are just that, a snap, a moment in time and I'm great<br />
at faking a smile.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7bRvR8NZQeWmHzANqG7wmZKGrIeVSQ5C6tQ0Z4ve13jN0SrZY8N11Va0HIVDSQGpAdB2-yudsToDouqYTdXQ_bTS6RwZk35VoNmdqSxRVzXTbNwtIqRRmmt2xZw0zZJdamqhgqfGtw/s1600/smile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7bRvR8NZQeWmHzANqG7wmZKGrIeVSQ5C6tQ0Z4ve13jN0SrZY8N11Va0HIVDSQGpAdB2-yudsToDouqYTdXQ_bTS6RwZk35VoNmdqSxRVzXTbNwtIqRRmmt2xZw0zZJdamqhgqfGtw/s200/smile.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Faking it?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I take and post a lot of selfies, my reason for this is that I can control how I look, if my smile looks okay, my usually tend to be close mouthed because when I smile with my teeth, my top lip disappears and I look even more ridiculous. And I tend to just post my face because, even though I am losing weight (too slowly for my liking, and I'm still convinced I'm not losing enough despite having been told that my weight loss is fine and in fact ahead of where I should be) I don't want people seeing the mess that I am.<br />
<br />
The holiday was wonderful, and a lot of those smiles in my photographs are genuine, but they're just a snapshot where it looks like I haven't a care in the world, where I'm not concerned with what I can and can't eat (what's SAFE in my mind for me to eat and not eat), where I don't feel like an enormous whale, an embarrassment for my family and friends to be seen with...<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPH3NaFmgey07f6lQsB6YhIbAAmoosGA3kG4CAyCUS5BI06dSjWlwJIM-Un8-cY_Q_0dJYLVyqmljeLhzbHfsRZcIVzZo99kbUCFJNH7RedkSeDghRYAi5UdaYqkkBXy9F1byI0-rAw/s1600/toast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="162" data-original-width="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPH3NaFmgey07f6lQsB6YhIbAAmoosGA3kG4CAyCUS5BI06dSjWlwJIM-Un8-cY_Q_0dJYLVyqmljeLhzbHfsRZcIVzZo99kbUCFJNH7RedkSeDghRYAi5UdaYqkkBXy9F1byI0-rAw/s1600/toast.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, I am scared of bread.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I'm <i>still </i>awaiting a psychology appointment through the bariatric service (thanks Tory bastards). I still need help, discussing with my GP my food phobia, when I said something about not technically<br />
being an eating disorder, she said that there's a spectrum of eating disorders and I'm on there... Great. Imagine you went from not caring what you put in your mouth to having to check everything, to look at the protein content of everything, so I eat virtually the same things (nuts, hummus, cracker breads, king prawns, eggs, mash) - these are my 'Safe Foods'.<br />
<br />
I'm hanging in there, still not sleeping brilliantly, lying in bed because there's no reason to get up, same with showering...I know that's disgusting but I'm still pretty much 'Meh, what's the point'. Thanks depression, you wanker.<br />
<br />
I know my friends and family are all supportive and love me, and I know that when I write blog posts like this, I upset them. I'm sorry for that, I have to write down my thoughts and feelings, it helps me and God knows I need all the help I can get.Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-50011507110228847042017-09-13T08:45:00.000-07:002017-09-13T08:45:03.052-07:00Today's Forecast Calls for Blue Skies<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrcF0HmUQBx8wTUSiWaY64UfKRP43eDw6SxIY-gFTtVZld6YywP1xs_-wzrur0rLdzPQsmtW6c4zRuTbNRK3vWkVAoJAVmjbabaWM36mKBEo7epXwLJ2T0bedEeC1OHXsgFs6IGTICDw/s1600/flanders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="397" data-original-width="480" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrcF0HmUQBx8wTUSiWaY64UfKRP43eDw6SxIY-gFTtVZld6YywP1xs_-wzrur0rLdzPQsmtW6c4zRuTbNRK3vWkVAoJAVmjbabaWM36mKBEo7epXwLJ2T0bedEeC1OHXsgFs6IGTICDw/s320/flanders.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hi, me again. It's been almost two months since my weight loss surgery, so I thought I'd </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">update you all on how I've been getting on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial";">It hasn't been all plain sailing as I alluded to in my previous post. Physically it's been tough with delightful things such as constipation and crippling pain from that, but mentally...it's been, and is continuing to be, absolute hell.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I mentioned in my last blog that I didn't think I was losing as much weight as I should be; that has continued along with some new issues. I've developed a food phobia (which is as lovely as you'd expect) coupled with a newly found fear of vomiting (if you eat too quickly or don't chew the food enough, this makes you sick.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So I'm scared to eat 'new' things (things I was eating before the surgery). I have established things that I eat but I'm literally just sticking to Weetabix, beans, cheese, tuna and potatoes. And not a great deal of any of those things. I'm scared I'm not eating enough, but then I know if I eat too much, I'll get a pain in my chest or stretch my sleeve, which I really don't want to happen).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I'd been passing the surgery off as no biggie, because it wasn't open surgery, it was being done via a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laparoscopic_surgery" target="_blank">laparoscopy</a>. I genuinely, somewhat naïvely, didn't think it was going to be as big a deal as it was. I mean, I was <i>only</i> having 75% of my stomach removed... how hard could it be?? What an idiot I am. I'm sort of coming to terms with the fact it WAS actually major surgery. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've been dealing with feeling like I've made a massive mistake, due to the pain my body and brain have been and are still going through. Can't go back though, they can't rebuild me...maybe they could shove a load of sausage casings back in and see how that goes...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So I'm trying to cope with that, on top of feelings of utter misery and inflicting misery on David and my family and friends. I'm no fun to be around, I'm generally usually down, crying at the drop of a hat, and my old arch nemesis of Low Self Esteem is popping her head in, telling me that I'm failing at weight loss, how I'm pretty much a failure in life anyway because I can't have children and that how that even if I get to the desired weight for IVF, it won't work because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to be happy, I don't deserve to have a child. She tells me that David will probably leave me <i>when</i> the IVF fails because I can't do anything right in life. Happy cheery stuff like that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGtikqzuDudl1bROVVRHhlZaafXeCAXIO8p_Wjy-svR0QAZLhonAAxvci2dY_eZ48kHQsc-IGwJVoO6wmG4GmH_fitFNQ9nctOW8y5MhJG85pDmMzcDy4Gzc-NAivCezWdTdmN4Z6MA/s1600/snoopybandaid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="237" data-original-width="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGtikqzuDudl1bROVVRHhlZaafXeCAXIO8p_Wjy-svR0QAZLhonAAxvci2dY_eZ48kHQsc-IGwJVoO6wmG4GmH_fitFNQ9nctOW8y5MhJG85pDmMzcDy4Gzc-NAivCezWdTdmN4Z6MA/s1600/snoopybandaid.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've told one of the bariatric nurses my concerns, and she's referred me to psychology...but I don't know when I'll get an appointment (cut backs to mental health services, thanks you Tory cunts). I know I need help, I've identified my problems, I've told my GP and she was going to try to expedite my psychology appointment. Speaking to my GP helped a bit, she signed me off for another four weeks, so we'll see how that all goes. I've had to up my antidepressants again (as a sort of a sticking plaster until my psych appointment).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I'm so lucky to have David and my family and all my friends...and even the cats - Aslan is an excellent nurse (well okay maybe not but he's always good for cuddles). And writing helps me out a lot. I know a lot of this might seem extreme but I have to be honest about how I've been feeling since surgery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I'll get there, I know I will. I'm loved and adored and well cared for. And I'll be a mother one day, I know this too. I just need to see more <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQUlA8Hcv4s" target="_blank">blue skies</a> than grey.</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-5600267263821446262017-07-28T05:31:00.000-07:002017-07-28T05:34:22.631-07:00MY weight loss surgery.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifbVerAgCfZJKDXf1dmTy2Y6EDEDcXclR2djOnXBiZ4AucNubLO1OZOzJqEHw8MWKJEaKMDq78s-jISD6Csi84bbl54QK99t5E9-ttiTZhwBRAxvGYL2CuJkNzZiYZFBKa2SUVGyu8Fg/s1600/photo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1192" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifbVerAgCfZJKDXf1dmTy2Y6EDEDcXclR2djOnXBiZ4AucNubLO1OZOzJqEHw8MWKJEaKMDq78s-jISD6Csi84bbl54QK99t5E9-ttiTZhwBRAxvGYL2CuJkNzZiYZFBKa2SUVGyu8Fg/s320/photo1.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">My stomach is not made of felt.<br />|It is now, though, the size of a banana</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So I'm 12 days post surgery and much to my annoyance, I'm not yet a size six... this is, quite frankly, a DISGRACE.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But seriously, I <i>am</i> 12 days post surgery and I'm still trying to get my head around the significant change that I chose to make to my life (with assistance from our ever brilliant NHS). I had a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleeve_gastrectomy" target="_blank">sleeve gastrectomy</a> on 16 July. First time having anaesthetic and surgery, and first prolonged stay in hospital since I had meningitis in 1982. I was pretty freaked out by the whole idea of the hospital stay, probably more than the surgery.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've touched on having weight loss surgery briefly in my blog before. It's something I really hadn't considered before. With my obesity and fertility issues, I was offered the surgery to help with weight loss and then the possible knock on effect from that would be qualifying for IVF. So I went with it.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's not as simple as people seem to think, I had to have psychological input before I was approved for the surgery. And I have a lot of changes to make to my lifestyle. So I thought I'd write a blog to try to explain a bit about 'my journey' (trust me, I hate that phrase as much as you do, but it's the best way to define it).</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is MY journey, no-one else's. So to be quite blunt, my opinions are the only ones that matter so therefore:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1. Please don't ask me if I'm hungry, it doesn't help. I am not a side show circus freak. FYI: ghrelin (the hunger hormone) is produced in the part of the stomach that was removed.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2. In the same way, please don't ask me what I'm eating or if I'm eating. Quite frankly, that is only the business of me and my dietitian.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3. Keep your expectations of MY weight loss to yourself. I don't want you to tell me that you thought I'd have lost more weight than I have done. I already have low self esteem so your comments will more than likely hinder my recovery. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">4. Along with physical recovery, I need time for mental recovery too. I have to relearn how to eat (effectively, I'll be relearning how to eat as my friends' baby is learning how to eat, so we can be chow pals).</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">5. Encouragement is GOOD. If you can encourage me in any way, that would be delightful. If you don't think you can, that's also cool, but I'd ask that you keep your negative comments to yourself please. This can hinder my recovery. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">6. It really isn't 'the easy way out'. As I say, I didn't ask for the surgery, it was offered to me. And I thought long and hard about whether to have it at all. So if you think it's the easy way out, keep that to yourself. Don't tell me eating less and moving more will help me out, I have two underlying health conditions that affect my weight as well as being on antidepressants. So if that's what you want to add to my 'journey', I'd rather you didn't, thanks. I'm well aware people think it's a cheat (including some consultants). </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am already worrying myself that I haven't lost enough weight in the 12 days since surgery and have already begun branding myself a failure. This is incredibly unhealthy (I am well aware of this) and this way eating disorders lie. I shall be letting my dietitian and bariatric nurse know how I'm feeling, and they will get me an appointment with the psychologist. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have a great support network around me including David, my family and assorted friends and work colleagues. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So anyway, this blog might be a bit snarky, a bit unfriendly, but I needed to write this because at the moment, I need to concentrate on me and my recovery. If you feel like you need to ask me any of the above, it's probably not going to help me.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Fluffy and over emotional posts will resume soon. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFkwUuwsIl_GmjidVqBHzqUAKOBubvPixl_ZOBqtGAwegTVY0VkwJXpRL8izbx63VvOeC3ZIuy0q-L2AkfZ5fRyeHwuSjpMgbQGfYleS2AcFEgqyZzDkMYfae_7eDBZFKeEkuyeC-Mw/s1600/Fluffy2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="384" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFkwUuwsIl_GmjidVqBHzqUAKOBubvPixl_ZOBqtGAwegTVY0VkwJXpRL8izbx63VvOeC3ZIuy0q-L2AkfZ5fRyeHwuSjpMgbQGfYleS2AcFEgqyZzDkMYfae_7eDBZFKeEkuyeC-Mw/s320/Fluffy2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-42226748585625799922017-05-10T06:26:00.002-07:002017-05-10T06:43:32.239-07:00Oh! I hugged Mini T!<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
<img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTPSeBfyhCXUTJjd8dQBGDCHZohUbmAWm5VFfcxLTpoiPbQYR31QnZL54I_8GpufB_q8OhkNv_OiO6T0cl85MWeyizoVDDPK0hmlhyphenhyphenSB9FZqkRQDbERLpK8I9wiAB7Dv2MKVMspCUcWw/s320/Screenshot_20170510-141255.png" style="color: #0000ee; font-family: calibri; text-align: center;" width="320" /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Hooray for me! I have been alive for 38 years.
It was my birthday yesterday, I indulged in pork pie and beer (because it was my birthday). Hooray for
me!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Its <a href="https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/campaigns/mental-health-awareness-week" target="_blank">Mental Health Awareness Week</a> this week, just a week or
so after Piss Morgan (I am aware of that typo) complained that too many men are
oversharing and should Man Up. One twitter user replied saying that their
brother tried to Man Up, failed and ended up killing himself due to anxiety and
depression; he felt he couldn’t talk about it because it’s not manly to share
your feelings. This is the myth that Piss continues to perpetuate, in
this day and age where the biggest killer of young men (under the age of
45). He seems to think it’s not okay to talk about your feelings, because
if you do it makes you less of a man. He then posed the question "Is James Bond not a real man, then?" on Twitter </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">
<a href="https://indy100.com/article/piers-morgan-twitter-james-bond-real-man-who-could-possibly-know-7722836" target="_blank">and the internet laughed at him</a>, because that’s all he’s good for.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Regular readers of this blog will have seen my documented
struggles with anxiety, depression, incredibly low self-esteem and suicidal
ideation. These aren’t daily feelings (thankfully), and the suicide thing
hasn’t reared its head in a long while. But from time to time, it hits
me. Yesterday whilst out with David for my birthday, he took a photograph
of me holding a pint (because it was my birthday). This might not seem strange, in fact, it’s almost
obligatory that he do this on my birthday. But I hated the
photograph. I look enormous (which I am), like the size of a fully grown
manatee. He posted it to FB because that’s what he does, and soon the
compliments flooded in as well as more birthday greetings. And my dark
half came out and she started her up her old game of telling me how shit I
look: </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">‘They don’t <i>really</i> like you’. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">‘They’re just complimenting you because that’s what you do
when someone posts a photo of themselves or their significant other on
FB’ </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">‘They really want to post up the truth, YOUR truth, Tara,
and post ‘Sorry Dave, your wife looks like a manatee with a stupid smile where
her top lip disappears so it shows all her stupid teeth’. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Managed to get
to the cinema without too much trouble and then finally enclosed my dark half
back in her cupboard. Then, as we left the cinema, (which is situated
next to a gym), two blokes came out of the gym, one looked over at me then
whispered something to his mate, then they both looked over and openly laughed
at me. And it was definitely not because I’d told them a hilarious joke (<span style="color: #1f497d; mso-themecolor: dark2;"><a href="http://instantrimshot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: black;">You know what I hate about Russian dolls? They’re so full of themselves</span></a>
</span>). So I was made to feel like utter
dogshit on my birthday – fair dos, they didn’t <i>know</i> it was my birthday;
they didn’t <i>know </i>I have such a low self-opinion but yeah, they made me
feel like utter garbage. David and James, bless them, tried to help by
saying ‘forget about them, they’re idiots’ and ‘They don’t matter’ but that’s
exactly how anxiety can get you. It’s true, why SHOULD I care that two blokes I
don’t even know openly laughed at me? Because I do. Because anxiety
and my dark half make me. And I’m finding it difficult to cope at the
moment. Got another birthday night out planned with the gal pals for
Saturday. I hope my dark half fucks off by then. </span></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">If you’re being affected by low mood, anxiety, depression,
suicidal ideation or any other kind of worrying thoughts or feelings, please do
share your thoughts and feelings with others, whether its friends family or
MIND or Samaritans, or even contact me through this blog. Just please don’t suffer alone. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">And writing my feelings helps me out so much. I find
it cathartic, which is why there are so many posts on here about mental health.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">FUCK Piss Morgan.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-26242082870944993682017-02-13T09:00:00.000-08:002017-02-13T09:00:33.936-08:00Mini T's Mini Meltdown (This is NOT a delicious recipe)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-image: none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZcTkXuTN9Ym8i2T72QRYB5pzgOBQUh5tqiWYrQKGy-x_Qgm9eCaq50fUjk0S1v_5gqFSmU4BYGEMUKx_oN8bzGvjv1wK8tpYvuy5MsZzLs7LNnVzaWoyFPihS26JG-nOK0nLo3H8JsA/s1600/proofmyers.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZcTkXuTN9Ym8i2T72QRYB5pzgOBQUh5tqiWYrQKGy-x_Qgm9eCaq50fUjk0S1v_5gqFSmU4BYGEMUKx_oN8bzGvjv1wK8tpYvuy5MsZzLs7LNnVzaWoyFPihS26JG-nOK0nLo3H8JsA/s320/proofmyers.png" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I went to a
horror movie convention the other weekend in Birmingham.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was brilliant, met up with friends and
made some new ones, including Michael Myers himself, the actor <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0602985" target="_blank">Tony Moran</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s true, we’re FB pals, HE friend requested me. I taught him the
word minge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fairly proud of that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway, I
got some photos with some Nightmare on Elm Street stars, Rod Lane from NOES 1 (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0006987/" target="_blank">Jsu Garcia</a>)
and Roland Kincaid from NOES 3 (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0756209/" target="_blank">Ken Sagoes</a>) (paid for) and some pals took some snaps of us
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then I saw the photos, and I
could have wept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look utterly horrendous
in every single one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m the size of a
juvenile elephant, my face looks utterly ridiculous, I have about five chins
and that weird top lip disappearing smile that always makes my teeth look more
prominent than they are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is why I
haven’t posted any of the pics up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even
the ones I’ve paid for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the one of
me with Jsu Garcia AND Ken Sagoes (a photo op I’ll never get again) because of
how I look.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Regular
readers of this blog will know that I have major hang ups about my appearance,
most noticeably my weight and then my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">actual</i>
physical appearance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I’d come
to terms with the fact that I could look pretty at times, and hell, I even wore
a bikini and posted it on the internet…I think that was more the prosecco
though than me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These photos from the
horror con kicked off something in my brain which, coupled with a few other
things, caused me to have a bit of a meltdown over the last weekend.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBGtEXC3ZumCa0qH4doBIfuWkVAUNWM7JElQ61kybWYF1ijygrazVtDm_JH6Og_BWjzIU3NMolORIJeuIh5eb70FHBkqAGDr_hItoZxFfxvN0K0S-IAb_yfJtVFunYgnoiuV1UVISSXA/s1600/anxiety.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBGtEXC3ZumCa0qH4doBIfuWkVAUNWM7JElQ61kybWYF1ijygrazVtDm_JH6Og_BWjzIU3NMolORIJeuIh5eb70FHBkqAGDr_hItoZxFfxvN0K0S-IAb_yfJtVFunYgnoiuV1UVISSXA/s320/anxiety.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="border-image: none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anxiety had
kicked me around on Friday and Saturday, culminating in me dropping out of a
well overdue night out with my gal pals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I couldn’t have coped with all the photos, the trying to make myself
look presentable enough to be seen out with these women, my best friends, who
are all goddesses in their own way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
my brain, sometimes, I feel I don’t fit in with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it’s something I can’t quite put my
finger on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s nothing they’ve ever
said or done, it’s purely me and my own stupid brain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I ducked out of our night out because I
knew I wouldn’t be able to cope with me ruining every photograph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I stayed in, with the cats for
company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Weirdly, as the time passed,
and I knew I didn’t have to go out, my anxiety eased off a little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a little though, it’s still here,
kicking the crap out of me.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Writing
about how I’m feeling is one of my main coping mechanisms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s cathartic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I might overshare at times, but I’d
rather do that than have all my feelings and emotions bottled up, ready to
unexpectedly spill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Folk call me brave
for writing, I’m not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just sharing
experiences I’ve had, that others might have had, so that maybe one other
person can read it and know that other people get anxiety and depression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve always
been an advocate for speaking about my mental health; and I will continue to
be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m aware that others feel they
can’t speak about it which is sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
is a conversation that we need to have, we need it to grow above just a hubbub;
it needs to be a loud and angry conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mental health services are getting slashed by the government (and
previous governments).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mental health
charities and other charity helplines are getting inundated with referrals,
letters, emails, telephone calls from people suffering because there’s no
mental health service near them, or that it’s been so slashed to the bone, they
can’t get an appointment.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s not
shameful to have a mental health issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We need to feel comfortable to speak about it. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgziY9ueLUnz1M6Dvj9wxrTG-g-j1C6tQEds_eCzbiD-Mg7clHe0_SofeOWrwlZgWJy-hdK2vO45ai5y9rMwMKBzLnpCQepwOnwmCI6xqPrHeoRZC_LHHNrFoLb0QE-XsSRoH6A-mpNuQ/s1600/words.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgziY9ueLUnz1M6Dvj9wxrTG-g-j1C6tQEds_eCzbiD-Mg7clHe0_SofeOWrwlZgWJy-hdK2vO45ai5y9rMwMKBzLnpCQepwOnwmCI6xqPrHeoRZC_LHHNrFoLb0QE-XsSRoH6A-mpNuQ/s320/words.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></span></div>
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Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-32676935574369024332017-02-02T06:06:00.000-08:002017-02-02T06:44:04.005-08:00How are you?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6Hg7GISOWlPsc2O9jSN1xrju9yah3vXjN6-nVyFU5uVVDQCLZPcv3_sUx-QICcdnIkphWCKKuBtzpLoEM8P-4yRxcoPxB4TyrUNl4mzEtLGZljjDxmspY-VtEQlGnya_FAqe1Aeuug/s1600/time+to+talk.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6Hg7GISOWlPsc2O9jSN1xrju9yah3vXjN6-nVyFU5uVVDQCLZPcv3_sUx-QICcdnIkphWCKKuBtzpLoEM8P-4yRxcoPxB4TyrUNl4mzEtLGZljjDxmspY-VtEQlGnya_FAqe1Aeuug/s320/time+to+talk.png" width="312" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It’s <a href="http://www.time-to-change.org.uk/about-us/about-our-campaign/time-to-talk" target="_blank">Time To Talk Day</a>.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">You might not
know what that is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a campaign set
up by Time To Change in 2014 for people to converse about mental health. It falls on the first Thursday of February.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Readers of
this <a href="http://thelittlegingerthatcould.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/its-second-week-of-my-phased-return.html" target="_blank">blog</a> (and possibly of David’s blog <a href="http://foldsfive.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/do-not-adjust-your-sets.html" target="_blank">FoldsFive</a>) may be aware that I have
suffered on and off with my mental health for years, suffering severe
depression leading to suicidal tendencies, extreme self-loathing, issues with
my general appearance (and no, not that I’m just obese, general actual hatred
of myself, my face etc.), feelings of low self-worth, feeling like a failure
because I can’t conceive… I could go on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">My point is
this: today, I’m in a brilliant place, mentally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may occasionally get the odd wobble at
times (but who doesn’t?), the odd dark day but I still manage to get up and
out, put a brave face on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m still
on medication, and to be honest, I can’t really see a point when I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">won’t be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></i>But I firmly believe that the reason I am now living, rather than just existing is because
I shared my problems: I talked, I blogged, I had a CPN, I had a psychologist, I
spoke with friends and family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It can
difficult opening up, I know that; but try and take that first step, you don’t
have to speak to someone you know, you could use <a href="http://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/helplines/" target="_blank">Mind</a>, <a href="https://childline.org.uk/get-support/" target="_blank">Childline</a>,
<a href="http://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help-you/contact-us" target="_blank"> Samaritans</a> or <a href="https://www.thesilverline.org.uk/" target="_blank">Silverline</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t
have to go through it alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There will
always be someone to listen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone will
always have time for you to talk.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Please, just
talk.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I love you
all.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-81970884315976094382016-12-29T06:46:00.004-08:002016-12-29T06:46:47.094-08:00This blogette is brought to you by the letters F U and the numbers 2016<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1eaQza65kIK3jwjja6PmzX-ubr329yoXgoblB_9RuBuSv7YI7u8jEbkcgWazCeP1S7PoGl2p9Uk7Kp96EGi_gl1pDiC7MMlaVEdgWBuBqm7hNh2A3T3n7nA9AXti4uhBoEY1VgWdJQ/s1600/calvin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1eaQza65kIK3jwjja6PmzX-ubr329yoXgoblB_9RuBuSv7YI7u8jEbkcgWazCeP1S7PoGl2p9Uk7Kp96EGi_gl1pDiC7MMlaVEdgWBuBqm7hNh2A3T3n7nA9AXti4uhBoEY1VgWdJQ/s1600/calvin.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Okay, the blog title might be an overreaction but to be honest, it's been
a ridiculously weird year for all, I think. Here is my summary of 2016.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Bad things that happened in 2016:</span></i></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* So much <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deaths_in_2016"><span style="color: blue;">death</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> (and not just celebrities: Syria, plane crashes, victims of terrorism, natural disasters...)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
</span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* Brexit and Donald Trump which is giving rise to the far right</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo4; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* Relationship breakdowns</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l10 level1 lfo5; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* The continuing deterioration of my beloved <a href="http://thelittlegingerthatcould.blogspot.co.uk/2016_03_01_archive.html"><span style="color: blue;">auntie</span></a> </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo6; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* Losing the wonderfully bonkers Patricia White</span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0cm; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo6; tab-stops: list 36.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><strong><em><br /></em></strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><strong><em>Good things that happened in 2016</em></strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* Various engagements, marriages, pregnancies and births not to mention
trips at home and overseas and folk moving house (in Duncan’s case, a whole continent
away). </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* <a href="https://nyoobserver.files.wordpress.com/2016/04/walking-dead-ldoe.png?w=635&h=457"><span style="color: blue;">Negan</span></a> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* Amazing gigs with lovely people (a-ha, ELO, Bruce Springsteen, John
Carpenter, Jimbob are a few that come to mind)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* Making new friends</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* I've been okayed for bariatric surgery, which means things are forward
for me and D becoming parents</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* I wore a bikini for the first time since I was about eight and felt
fucking fierce (after drinking the best part of a bottle of Prosecco and
posting a photo on FB for validity from my chums of course)</span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">* I’ve come to terms
with my <a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/4f/7b/c0/4f7bc0d9c968a859004b0b8dbe3779db.jpg"><span style="color: blue;">face</span></a>. It is actually okay. It can
look pretty sometimes. I am okay with that. It has taken 37 and a
half years for me to come to that conclusion</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_wZbZdsI533PPgZxbeytBxJ5zHoG0YnGNXCdAhiZ-8WNhHu3mx0SlV6_J4a84N-Ipj-Gg0CUtehAP1bqGD5VG2GtwuFHSO0pqIkrNaviSzzPq1vVhsPwLaxEAFHkEipSHmotDuI-gg/s1600/bikini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_wZbZdsI533PPgZxbeytBxJ5zHoG0YnGNXCdAhiZ-8WNhHu3mx0SlV6_J4a84N-Ipj-Gg0CUtehAP1bqGD5VG2GtwuFHSO0pqIkrNaviSzzPq1vVhsPwLaxEAFHkEipSHmotDuI-gg/s320/bikini.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1eaQza65kIK3jwjja6PmzX-ubr329yoXgoblB_9RuBuSv7YI7u8jEbkcgWazCeP1S7PoGl2p9Uk7Kp96EGi_gl1pDiC7MMlaVEdgWBuBqm7hNh2A3T3n7nA9AXti4uhBoEY1VgWdJQ/s1600/calvin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
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Beware 2017, I'm coming for you (NOT necessarily dressed in a bikini). Screw with me or mine and I'll kick you down some stairs.</div>
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Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-39051855965013425782016-10-12T08:36:00.001-07:002016-10-12T08:36:33.014-07:00In which I haven't changed the record <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6REA_S61iXM1l_V1sTF8pqdMONi3YASRMoT5L5cedaY14xinb7lLCkrpWaw-eYzTBaIQNAsDJ52kOeuk9cSMyjKBzJpraZLzZlOHZAjp0cwFzK_dMKhrINoNReZYsfSWHFo_sRlrmFw/s1600/banana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6REA_S61iXM1l_V1sTF8pqdMONi3YASRMoT5L5cedaY14xinb7lLCkrpWaw-eYzTBaIQNAsDJ52kOeuk9cSMyjKBzJpraZLzZlOHZAjp0cwFzK_dMKhrINoNReZYsfSWHFo_sRlrmFw/s200/banana.jpg" width="188" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">So, there we have it. I have admitted, ONLINE, that
I’m going to be having bariatric surgery to stop me being such a massively,
grossly, offensively obese monster; and to help with the whole fertility thing. If I said it, it MUST be true.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’ve done my research into each type of surgery; gastric
band (no), gastric bypass (no) or sleeve gastrectomy (BINGO). I have been
approved for surgery but the waiting game has just started…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">To get to the stage where I am now, I have had to lose
weight of my own accord to show willing. I have done this and am
continuing to do so. I have also had to see a psychologist, to make sure
I’m not too nuts to have surgery. The main thing picked up in this
session was that I’ll always have hang ups over how I look, and so I will need
a follow up session or two post-surgery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">A sleeve gastrectomy is where about 75% of your stomach is
removed, so you’re left with a sort of mini banana shaped stomach pouch.
It’s irreversible, it’s safe and it probably seems fairly extreme, but I’m
focussed and want this to happen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Here are some conversations I have with myself on a week to
week basis:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><i>“Why don’t you just eat like a normal person, and not a
pig?”</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Well, yeah, tried that and did really well and became
depressed and didn’t care. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><i>“You’ll never be able to have children whilst you’re the
size you are”.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I know this, genius; this is why I’m having the thing.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><i>“You’ll be too old for kids then anyway, you know, you’re
37 now. You’re over the hill”.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Which is why I need it done ASAP. We are under the
fertility clinic also. The cut off age for IVF is 39 years and 11
months. This is why this needs to be done.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><i>“You’ll have loose skin, and look like an even bigger
mess”.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Well possibly, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to
it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“It’s just sheer laziness that’s done this. It’s
your own fault. Why should the taxpayer pay for your greed”?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Because I’m a taxpayer as well and, although my obesity
hasn’t caused any major health issues as of yet, it might do later on in life,
like heart disease, strokes, cancers etc. So operate on me now whilst I’m
a relatively healthy, youngish specimen, and I’ll save you all cash.
Alcohol and smoking related problems are treated, why can’t food related ones
be also? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’ve had a life time of jibes about how I look (<a href="https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=neil+from+family+guy&safe=strict&rls=com.microsoft:en-gb:IE-SearchBox&prmd=ivns&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjEwsOvy9XPAhUMOsAKHVAtDU4Q_AUIBQ">ginger,glasses, braces, bad skin</a>), about my weight. I previously mentioned that
as a little kid in infant school, I was subjected to bullying for being fat
(which I absolutely wasn’t when I was four, five or six) and took it that seriously
that I stopped eating my lunches at school in a bid to make me thinner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4M9I3reEct4tLSQV2x66KqPISuDpgIYfmPELmn2UxgtD1vxF6NELN712-RfPnNqR1-HrvN62JaMKiNmreblNPzklct-s_GOX_v_zRQVtDWL5Yf2_TCI4gTR_HYWUEgr4u7FAJjcC_VQ/s1600/meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4M9I3reEct4tLSQV2x66KqPISuDpgIYfmPELmn2UxgtD1vxF6NELN712-RfPnNqR1-HrvN62JaMKiNmreblNPzklct-s_GOX_v_zRQVtDWL5Yf2_TCI4gTR_HYWUEgr4u7FAJjcC_VQ/s1600/meme.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’m a self-hating fatty. I personally can’t get behind
fat acceptance programmes, because I can’t accept myself being as fat as I am
(although I have been overweight almost my entire teenage-adult life). It
really does make me miserable, no matter how much to try to put on the jolly
fat tart persona, that’s really not who I am at all. I’m speaking solely
from my perspective. That’s my view of myself. And as I learned in
all my sessions of therapy, if I fire the shots first, then I do the most
damage to myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’ve joked about trying to develop an eating disorder but it
being too damned difficult. How is that acceptable? Answer:
It isn’t. I’ve seen what eating disorders can do to people. But
society nowadays is so obsessed with image, aesthetics and being thin, there’s
not much hope for the younger generations of kids coming through. A
friend of mine mentioned that her daughter asked her one day whether she had fat
legs. My friend was shocked and asked who’d said that to her. Her
daughter kept quiet. Let me point out that her daughter was around four
years of age. Another friend of mine advised me that her daughter had
developed an eating disorder of sorts. She was seven. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><a href="https://www.girlguiding.org.uk/globalassets/docs-and-resources/research-and-campaigns/girls-attitudes-survey-2016.pdf">This</a> report that was released recently is terrifying
reading. It brought back my own experiences of school, but I really am
shocked at how young these feelings about self-image begin. Mainstream
media, magazines, telly shows, FB, celebrities, these are all showing us what’s
pretty and what isn’t. Thinness is pretty, fatness is not. Smooth,
tanned skin is pretty, pale freckly skin with a few imperfections here and
there is not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I hope things change, because if I am ever lucky enough to
have a daughter, I wouldn’t know where to start with this hell hole 'aesthetics
is everything' nightmare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvZXkPTSPWAc2B_uDQNAIXD8SuaHL9D-TovGg9qFdFwKsAobf-OzitmsLApwgvSOcG_01Q-BR-ji5tE3vDTCop2w3wvHc4QPCX9LNZ4kHskMf8vRi9OJyIMgQFfmUkyjbhwNat9cdfw/s1600/keeping-time-with-biological-clock-article.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvZXkPTSPWAc2B_uDQNAIXD8SuaHL9D-TovGg9qFdFwKsAobf-OzitmsLApwgvSOcG_01Q-BR-ji5tE3vDTCop2w3wvHc4QPCX9LNZ4kHskMf8vRi9OJyIMgQFfmUkyjbhwNat9cdfw/s1600/keeping-time-with-biological-clock-article.jpg" /></a></div>
</span><br />Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-84773406867012355412016-07-04T03:55:00.000-07:002016-07-04T03:55:05.633-07:00In which I yearn for children. AGAIN.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBsB080mwB9jUIeeAJiSl0z-VTfZYLr2NbpxB0Zgecwkw3FyLQjFYgcyAyrhtuwfJbbFoE6mQ41_evEXOCjBRk6T-u-AFPBdjQAmRa2UtckcShiwtOd2-6q4EwwOu_cjHknu1B2OwE1Q/s1600/up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBsB080mwB9jUIeeAJiSl0z-VTfZYLr2NbpxB0Zgecwkw3FyLQjFYgcyAyrhtuwfJbbFoE6mQ41_evEXOCjBRk6T-u-AFPBdjQAmRa2UtckcShiwtOd2-6q4EwwOu_cjHknu1B2OwE1Q/s320/up.jpg" width="226" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">TW: Infertility</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Come on,
Tara, when are you gonna start having kids?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was said to me recently on a night out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I try to laugh it off, most of the time, but
this time I sort of blurted it out that things don’t seem to be quite working
as they should and so it could be never.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I realise they were just trying to help, but they continued on about
their friend who has had IVF and I had to look away, trying to not cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A good friend who I was sitting next to
grabbed my knee supportively, but it didn’t really help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People ask it a lot, and then when there’s
the pause before answering, there’s an air of uncomfortableness and
embarrassment on their part, because they sense that something is up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apologies are said and that’s that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I always say “Oh, it’s fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re just, you know, having some issues and
tests and that”, trying to say it as upbeat as I can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I can pull it off, sometimes I
can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I always
remember thinking that everyone was so worried about unplanned pregnancy that
planning a pregnancy that doesn’t happen seemed to get sort of lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always had a worry that I could never fall
pregnant, never have a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that
is what seems to be happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kind of
foresaw this, I guess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m like Mystic
Meg only less boss-eyed and fucking mental.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Oh don’t be silly, it’ll happen”</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well it
hasn’t, has it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You could try IVF”<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do you know
the criteria of what is required for IVF? (I’m classed as morbidly obese so I
need to sort my weight out first – and I am doing, just not quick enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cut off point for IVF is 39 years and 11
months so I have enough time, but it’s not quick enough for me)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“My mother got pregnant well into her 40s” <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Good for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d sooner not have to wait that long.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“There’s always adoption”<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There
is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this has been looked into,
fully, but yet again, the fact that I’m a massive great big fat mess means
that’s a no-no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Not a never, though…)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know these things are said with care and love, but when you hear them so often, they can grate.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I feel
defective.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Women have babies all over
the place, all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I
can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like a massive failure due
to not being able to do what seemingly nearly every woman can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve never
admitted this before, but there are times that I feign illness to get out of
events where I know there are going to be loads of kids because I feel like I
can’t face it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my friends reading
this, I’m sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s me, entirely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I can only do so much, or I can only act along so far before I want
to cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously this has only happened
once or twice but sometimes, just sometimes, I need to be alone and not think
about anything kid related.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve touched
on this previously in other posts about being broody, I never realised the
desire for children was so strong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
such a force; it’s overwhelming and can sometimes become all encompassing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpu2Ivcua5JAmPvSX-BdReGgjWcfzzA8Cl24Qg2Qg0rR1WgpKQiNzM_WrwVBUSFJQdGEtxFXe1DnhP0J-MnPs-iCg3jzsND1WGj3f7cVzqGrVQeBzyyHuGTjRmWJZcXBStOVY3vebzNA/s1600/imagesCA1PQ2ZB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpu2Ivcua5JAmPvSX-BdReGgjWcfzzA8Cl24Qg2Qg0rR1WgpKQiNzM_WrwVBUSFJQdGEtxFXe1DnhP0J-MnPs-iCg3jzsND1WGj3f7cVzqGrVQeBzyyHuGTjRmWJZcXBStOVY3vebzNA/s1600/imagesCA1PQ2ZB.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">David and me
sometimes joke about just getting a dog and having done with the idea of
babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then we mock argue over what
kind of dog (obvs, it’d be a greyhound, he reckons a collie), and that
helps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we laugh and joke about it
together, but sometimes we sit and cry and hold one another about it because it
just seems so fucking unfair.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tests and
appointments are being undergone and attended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m on a stupid extreme diet to show I can lose weight so I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">may</i> be considered for gastric surgery
(recommended by a fertility doctor), but everything is taking too long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I have to be patient; hell we’ve
waited long enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A little longer
probably won’t hurt, will it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-8441024615602428322016-06-20T09:16:00.000-07:002016-06-20T09:16:20.109-07:00Tears of Frustration and Anger<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It’s been a
while since I’ve written anything here about her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She appears to be a medical marvel, seemingly
all but dead one day and alive and feisty the next.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I haven’t
seen her as much as I should do, but my folks go a couple of times a week, and
my auntie in Ireland telephones the care home every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So they’re all doing that they can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She always has visitors too, her best friend,
the parish priest goes every day and her friends from the parish all visit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">My mum
raised some concerns regarding the clawing of my auntie’s left hand, how the
way she’s been lying has caused one of her legs to twist which is painful when
anyone tries to move it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had been
promised physiotherapy when she moved into the home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As far as we can see (and my folks have been
told), she has had none.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister in
law runs a care home and knows the ins and outs of what should and shouldn’t be
happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have a right to see my
auntie’s care plan, so my ma asked for it only to be told that we were not
allowed because my cousin had said so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The same cousin who has put her house on the market, more than likely
dumped her personal possessions, had bought her no clothing for when she moved
into the home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one who FORCED her
into that home (He did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told us so).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s the kind of person who threatens to beat
up an OAP (my dad), the kind of man who uses his mother’s illness to get his
own way when things appear to go against him, or anyone dares to complain about
the way he has carried himself throughout this whole sorry affair; the threats
of violence, the threats to bar anyone and everyone from visiting his mother
when anyone questions his actions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And if this
little frail old lady knew any of the shit going on, she’d be terribly
embarrassed and ashamed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It isn’t her
fault, obviously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of this is her
fault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we try to continue on,
ignoring him and his threats, too frightened to seek advice from Social
Services or a Solicitor because if he finds out, he might bar us from seeing
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he does that, he may as well
just put a pillow over her face right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She brightens when she has visitors; she’s genuinely touched when people
go to see her, that they took time out of their day to bother with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s a lady. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And he’s a bully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPra6DF92XEO-uZFIREd3xDC2i_H7Bl0i_aoAu98PZDdMBusNuLcaDxD6PsJeqbHab2BGH8EPtKeCaTlMxHiufmLGT4BEWX4Vl9mVmqbA_qFzvTgVrnbxWlwMzc7vRoceKqmguFURP3w/s1600/heart+pin1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPra6DF92XEO-uZFIREd3xDC2i_H7Bl0i_aoAu98PZDdMBusNuLcaDxD6PsJeqbHab2BGH8EPtKeCaTlMxHiufmLGT4BEWX4Vl9mVmqbA_qFzvTgVrnbxWlwMzc7vRoceKqmguFURP3w/s320/heart+pin1.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I spoke to
my ma on Friday evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’d been to
see her that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My ma just broke down
in tears on the ‘phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s frustrated
and angry and tired; both her and my da are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They’re at a loss as to what to do next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I told them they’re doing the best that they can, and visiting her
whenever they can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re giving her
the love that she so desperately needs, they’re giving her the fire and the
fight, their rallying words inspire her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But they really are stuck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></div>
Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-11455662998068835422016-05-12T07:31:00.001-07:002016-05-12T07:45:22.095-07:00Words<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghiy3d5VY3aw51IUhhZZ10I7veF1ZmPmj4j7scVdpadJK9QGPOilmKSJtyKN0Jmj3ArPqxzQTrGsFeNGxjmX491hyphenhyphen1lFrr-7QqIhAHgddjf2Sa10B8o_6A6c_CapK_cF7goi_uEOhjFA/s1600/Phone.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghiy3d5VY3aw51IUhhZZ10I7veF1ZmPmj4j7scVdpadJK9QGPOilmKSJtyKN0Jmj3ArPqxzQTrGsFeNGxjmX491hyphenhyphen1lFrr-7QqIhAHgddjf2Sa10B8o_6A6c_CapK_cF7goi_uEOhjFA/s1600/Phone.png" /></a>I had a few words with her over the telephone just now,
possibly the last few words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sounds
so distant, so withdrawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All she said
to me was:<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“You’re a good girl, Tara.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such
a good girl, love…bye”. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Mammy took the phone back and told me that her oldest sister is fading fast
before her and my da’s very eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was
nothing more I could say without my voice cracking so I said goodbye to my ma,
hung up and went off to weep alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-35737631925970786462016-05-11T03:08:00.000-07:002016-05-11T03:08:01.612-07:00A Question of Time
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQtre88P2Jb7Wydbf1yQXseSgfBAt6VfI2wMxYLuJLV6yxYjh2bKP8l1Da-5YM1glENfTV40M2enkaF6XmncoWSCjPSW4X5Yb6Ktf3jTrzxFYVdI9nsrsZmU7C-AmkVuw-Yh8YzPVZw/s1600/time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQtre88P2Jb7Wydbf1yQXseSgfBAt6VfI2wMxYLuJLV6yxYjh2bKP8l1Da-5YM1glENfTV40M2enkaF6XmncoWSCjPSW4X5Yb6Ktf3jTrzxFYVdI9nsrsZmU7C-AmkVuw-Yh8YzPVZw/s320/time.jpg" width="320" /></a>Today she turns 78.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Chances are this will be her last birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yesterday we were informed that she’s on an
end of life pathway (from the last time she was discharged from hospital).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents are devastated, as am I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad express
as much emotion in my entire life as he has done at her suffering and treatment.
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Such a brilliant, funny, headstrong and caring woman; and
now she’s wasting away in a care home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She managed a care home for years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She knows how they work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
doesn’t want to sit in the day room because ‘they all talk twaddle in
there’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So she stays in her room, barely
awake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s given up and I am sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had been so strong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She fought through every single thing that
life threw at her, and then some.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
And now, she’s basically lost to us, depressed and lonely
and sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’ll go to her grave not
knowing her house had been put on the market by people who, had they waited a
couple of months, could have legitimately done so rather than doing it slyly
and without her knowledge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But enough of
that, I suppose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess it doesn’t really
matter anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now is just a question
of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want her to suffer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I’ll raise a toast to you later on; I love you with all my
heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-39319694531891379052016-04-25T07:51:00.000-07:002016-05-12T04:20:32.254-07:00"That Little Glimmer of Hope"<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We had a good day yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yesterday we talked and laughed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yesterday she recited <a href="http://allpoetry.com/The-Ballad-Of-Father-Gilligan">poetry</a> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
(from memory)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yesterday she mischievously asked my da whether he wanted his nails
doing, as she was going to be having hers done: “Ah no, you’re alrigh’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do me own with the clear nail varnish” he
says, that joking smirk on his face.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She’s having visitors this week, her daughter is coming from
the US and her baby sister is coming from Ireland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Spending time in her company makes me love her more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s a fighter; she’d been written off by
some, and is still being written off by others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yesterday she mentioned her house a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She wants to go home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this is
where my heart begins to break because she can’t go home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her home is on the market, at a knock down
price as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been informed that
even though it is on the market, it cannot be sold because it’s her house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This makes absolutely no sense to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kmHxeHYOx_idcnGOkFHDDGUMuT8jyUDHa2XyHjwVHfJfLwgso9SfWBjVhuzBagk87VbAbWjVPkbBVtYHZRTReuKrVBp-1qALEaQWyGmvEnIKsuo19pbYdRcqeiSs6eSQuDDKOgeG7g/s1600/A-glimmer-of-Hope.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kmHxeHYOx_idcnGOkFHDDGUMuT8jyUDHa2XyHjwVHfJfLwgso9SfWBjVhuzBagk87VbAbWjVPkbBVtYHZRTReuKrVBp-1qALEaQWyGmvEnIKsuo19pbYdRcqeiSs6eSQuDDKOgeG7g/s320/A-glimmer-of-Hope.png" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I want to cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one
has told her it's for sale, still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me,
my ma and da haven’t the heart to tell her; and anyway, it isn’t our place
to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mumblings have been heard that it
should come from a voice of authority, like her GP.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is utter fucking bullshit; it should be
someone she loves, a family member or better still, the ghoul who decided to
sell the house of a woman who is STILL ALIVE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But then the phrase ‘we can’t take that glimmer of hope away from her’ was
uttered and it made me want to vomit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Ireland flag my ma brought for her room has
vanished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have our suspicions about what
has happened to it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And I’m dodging FB messages trying to explain why her house
is on the market, or why she’s been written off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s killing me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s killing us all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And we’d had such a good day yesterday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-66642949695144696082016-04-04T04:11:00.000-07:002016-04-04T04:11:02.390-07:00Background Noise<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
<img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQZJjfcrY93m0zX3a3r6dHYyxroe89443ZoQ1TS0r_Ay9GpFm0vK6MUUsWDBr3va5KfEON9pSqgpyuVsieDdFLBnZJd9vDu-cFomiff6bR397wxPqeCejp1P1TUolnylsSShvu1iA3g/s320/Cognac_glass.jpg" width="320" /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She’s better than I’ve seen her since it happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lucid, talking, the mischievous twinkle in
her eye when we mention taking her out for the day, getting her a brandy down
the pub “Now you’re talking my language” she said.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her room is not as sparse as it was; there are photos and
gifts of a tin butterfly and a ceramic guardian angel that I hung on the wall
yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chattering away to her, there are seemingly confusing
flights of fancy that she tries with us (she has had a brain injury so this is
understandable), but we talk her down and remind her that she’s still here and
she needs to fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fight and
feistiness is still there, albeit muted, but something was stirring within.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She barked at us she wants to see her own GP,
she wants to know what’s going to happen next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She wants to go home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we all
feel sad because her home is for sale and she doesn’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A guilty silence falls between us, she
doesn’t seem to notice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It isn’t our
place to tell her about her beloved home being on the market.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s getting better and stronger, we can’t
tell her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’d destroy her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQZJjfcrY93m0zX3a3r6dHYyxroe89443ZoQ1TS0r_Ay9GpFm0vK6MUUsWDBr3va5KfEON9pSqgpyuVsieDdFLBnZJd9vDu-cFomiff6bR397wxPqeCejp1P1TUolnylsSShvu1iA3g/s1600/Cognac_glass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before we leave, I hug her and warn her to not let anyone
write her off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Da tells her to keep
fighting and mammy tells her how much she loves her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all love her which is why it breaks my heart about what’s
happening in the background.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-40516578434554155312016-03-22T11:28:00.000-07:002016-03-22T11:28:09.555-07:00A life lived. <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhra5lytJVzaCQo4zi685q8EkkpZUSEwWlWI97FqKhrh3xX9U2kF0CpDQ2PL44R1agYhf2m9AZWFI5iy3_EcmdeVXiwIaSHpCRf8mK63vGQHM1azRwwLRZKcQDEf9bplhhxwcY1cpMaQg/s1600/tea.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhra5lytJVzaCQo4zi685q8EkkpZUSEwWlWI97FqKhrh3xX9U2kF0CpDQ2PL44R1agYhf2m9AZWFI5iy3_EcmdeVXiwIaSHpCRf8mK63vGQHM1azRwwLRZKcQDEf9bplhhxwcY1cpMaQg/s320/tea.png" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She’s a people person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She loves everyone, and everyone loves her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A devout catholic in a close knit parish
although I’d seen her welcome in her local Jehovah’s Witnesses for a
cuppa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’d call on her for a catch up
and a cuppa, such was the person she was; the person she still is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And now she’s alone, with intermittent spells in
hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After four months of bed rest,
her legs are not strong and so she keeps falling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she’s alone, reliant on visits from
friends and loved ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her next of kin
have advised the staff she is to stay alone in her room; she is NOT to mix with
others in the day room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the same
next of kin who threatened her best friend, an 84 year old priest, that if he
continues to question, It will bar him from being able to visit her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same next of kin who has placed her on
the dementia wing of the home, even though she doesn’t have dementia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This force of evil, this next of kin, has
placed her out of sight, waiting for her to die so It can cash in on her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No one knows where her mementos are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her keepsakes, photos, proof of a life
lived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she was her younger self,
beautiful and full of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is of
course still beautiful, but now she looks weary, and frail, and old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There’s a mixture of despair and melancholy deep within me
mixed with the fires of anger and rage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I veer wildly between nails through the palms fury and despair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could anyone treat a human being like
this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can someone answer this, because I
just don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span>Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-44510199066172146282016-03-16T05:56:00.002-07:002016-03-16T05:56:30.894-07:00For Sale<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxqJdv2ztMLeT_jPaXiDNsjerajnRPN09gkWSfwjJl7f4MQjy7SeNnGgfy49vEp0kCelgapNsRqg4Pqn3CFqw24-BIMLwOHC348Y-c_2Ujyroo0KthvYvZx2J90_IoI3ov94CYMSHnQ/s1600/life.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxqJdv2ztMLeT_jPaXiDNsjerajnRPN09gkWSfwjJl7f4MQjy7SeNnGgfy49vEp0kCelgapNsRqg4Pqn3CFqw24-BIMLwOHC348Y-c_2Ujyroo0KthvYvZx2J90_IoI3ov94CYMSHnQ/s1600/life.png" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u><strong>For Sale.</strong></u></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
Her house was always full of love and comfort.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She and her house helped me get through depression, the
familiar surroundings, the photographs on the wall of her in her younger days,
the pictures of the kids, family and friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I always felt at home there.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The extensive collection of books that were in her
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a kid, I’d stop there over
some weekends and voraciously read through all the Dahl books, the Garfield
ones, ignoring the classics. You can stick your Jane Eyre, your Oliver Twist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She always had a welcome for everyone in her house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’d make you feel as though it was your own
home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been a family home, but she
had lived there alone for years now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
a student, I’d pop by and stop for a few nights, a few glasses of wine, putting
the world to rights in her living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Every inch of the house was hers; holy pictures were a particular
favourite.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The fall had been a shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Four months in and out of hospital, then into a nursing home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pondered her house, wondering if it missed
her as much as I know she missed it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The house no longer belongs to her, everything that made it
hers have vanished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Possibly into
storage, maybe into a skip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looks so
cold without her, unwelcoming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It could
never be home without her there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s
back in hospital and it’s questionable whether she’ll come out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the house is now For Sale, definitely not
hers anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I wept.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span>Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-63035823086650059752015-11-17T09:37:00.001-08:002015-11-17T09:37:16.225-08:00Tears for Paris<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg638EalfT1oOohT_G9QXqTTthXL2b-LynOwk264M8Ewov4-5xHX2QuQq7Tv1Mmx_naIlhVBcxDrvOmpDf3GHHjzVhRWVTghJGf-9lqB9jjBLCPDqzM58rUMKM2nO8FdOStPLUjGhU0hg/s1600/151114100618-paris-terror-attacks-780x439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg638EalfT1oOohT_G9QXqTTthXL2b-LynOwk264M8Ewov4-5xHX2QuQq7Tv1Mmx_naIlhVBcxDrvOmpDf3GHHjzVhRWVTghJGf-9lqB9jjBLCPDqzM58rUMKM2nO8FdOStPLUjGhU0hg/s1600/151114100618-paris-terror-attacks-780x439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg638EalfT1oOohT_G9QXqTTthXL2b-LynOwk264M8Ewov4-5xHX2QuQq7Tv1Mmx_naIlhVBcxDrvOmpDf3GHHjzVhRWVTghJGf-9lqB9jjBLCPDqzM58rUMKM2nO8FdOStPLUjGhU0hg/s1600/151114100618-paris-terror-attacks-780x439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg638EalfT1oOohT_G9QXqTTthXL2b-LynOwk264M8Ewov4-5xHX2QuQq7Tv1Mmx_naIlhVBcxDrvOmpDf3GHHjzVhRWVTghJGf-9lqB9jjBLCPDqzM58rUMKM2nO8FdOStPLUjGhU0hg/s320/151114100618-paris-terror-attacks-780x439.jpg" width="320" /></a><br /></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t know if I have the right to feel how I am
feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was there, yes, but not close
to where the attacks took place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were
in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_Halles">Les Halles</a> when everything kicked off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In an Irish pub (story of my life) I got a BBC news alert telling me
there had been a shooting in Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>David and I sort of shrugged it off as maybe a lone gunman or whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We even joked that no-one would be in touch
to see if we were okay cos it was Friday night and everyone was out getting
wrecked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Watching the Ireland/Bosnia
match (<a href="http://www.theguardian.com/football/2015/nov/13/martin-o-neill-ireland-bosnia">terrible fog, even worse game</a>), I went to post on Facebook that the
owner had given me free Guinness due to my Irish heritage only to discover<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my phone had died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought nothing of it, happens all the
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat and watched the game, eating
my Taytos and drinking my Guinness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>David was watching the France/Germany game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a bit of an argument about stopping
out for ‘just one more’ (those who know me know full well it’s never ‘just one
more’).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>David wanted to go back nearer
to our hotel in Montrouge as we weren’t too familiar with the centre of Paris
he’d feel safer nearer to where we were staying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got the Metro and popped into a
restaurant/café/bar nearer to our hotel for a last drink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both phones were now dead, so we had to
resort to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">talking</i> to one another…
Imagine that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Glancing at the TV in the bar, the news was on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything looked a hell of a lot worse that
we could have imagined, there were scenes from the France/Germany game, and a
number that seemed to be rising all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We drank up as quickly as we could, and briskly walked back to the
hotel, passing several police cars and ambulances, their sirens wailing in the
dark night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We arrived to the hotel,
plugged in our phones where they both promptly exploded with texts, emails,
Facebook messages and voicemails, one in particular from my mother sounding
severely distressed shouting in the background to my dad ‘She isn’t picking up
her phone…’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We checked the BBC news
website to see the full atrocity that had been committed in Paris that night,
people out celebrating, just having a Friday out at a restaurant or a football
match, or a gig attacked for no good reason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Murder and rampage; Panic on the streets of Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously we got in touch with everyone and
let them know we were okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hundreds of
people, people I don’t even know that well, just concerned that we were alive
and safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was overwhelming and we
felt guilty for having that little joke earlier on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spoke to my dad and I’ve never heard so
much relief in a single person’s voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Turns out he, along with Tom and Fran and others had phoned the bar we
had been at to check we were okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
watched the French news in complete shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There was a state of emergency in France.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were due to travel home on Saturday, what
if we couldn’t?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, as you all know, we got back safe and sound having
spent the ENTIRE day at Charles De Gaulle airport (just as <a href="http://buttersafe.com/2008/07/24/boring/">boring</a> as you
think it would be).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d intended
spending our last day in Paris seeing things we hadn’t seen like the Arc de
Triomphe and walking down the <span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Champs-Élysées but it seemed safer to just go
straight to CDG.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An uneventful tube ride
from Heathrow to Euston and then a cab from Coventry station to Pie Bash and
things seemed right and okay with the world again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I think that with the adrenaline of
getting out of Paris and back home to Coventry had got me through, because on
Sunday evening, the tears started and they’ve been on and off ever since.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The tears are a mixture of sadness, fear, rage and guilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadness because of the sheer loss of human
life and devastation to so many families and to Paris herself; the fear has
literally just hit me over the past few days; anger manifests itself in the
question of why the fuck did these cunts think it was okay to attack and kill
innocents?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the guilt?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guilt is that I lived but many others
didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There should be 129 more living
breathing beautiful humans on this planet but there aren’t because murderous
cunts stole their lives.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s been odd seeing the reactions to what happened in Paris on Friday
13th: such sympathy and solidarity with the French populous, the simple act of
changing one’s Facebook profile picture so it is the colour of the tricolore
has been derided by many as slacktivism but fuck that, people have a fucking
choice to change their FB photo just like those who didn’t change theirs
(myself included) also had that choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s a sign of solidarity so take your derision and shove it right up
your arse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am also very much aware of
other atrocities that took and continue to take place and I am able to feel
sadness for all of those things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
expressing myself about Paris because I was there, so it kinda hit me a little
harder.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1n7RYD27Rv_5TT5tR_nxwhEkfsfhYINyTNFiIeiIZxwOj1jvPjgDo7Yhm4Sa4ovRbGTB5DL8-UZSkO2OW3LoZyguxeB1Cw_rLHrDvS2LfMzpcVIlM8GbtsNCJcQ1CfNZWgYUkNWBBfg/s1600/point.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1n7RYD27Rv_5TT5tR_nxwhEkfsfhYINyTNFiIeiIZxwOj1jvPjgDo7Yhm4Sa4ovRbGTB5DL8-UZSkO2OW3LoZyguxeB1Cw_rLHrDvS2LfMzpcVIlM8GbtsNCJcQ1CfNZWgYUkNWBBfg/s1600/point.jpg" /></a></span></o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not entirely sure what the point of this blog piece is, truth be
told.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Probably catharsis, most likely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started back at work today and was dreading
it because I was expecting the third degree about the whole thing; I was in
tears last night when I was trying to go to sleep because I didn’t want to have
to talk about it to anyone at work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thankfully, save for one person*, they’ve all been fine when I said I
didn’t want to talk about.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just can’t help but feel though that it isn’t right for me to cry, to
have this grief or whatever it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
wasn’t directly affected, other than being in the city when it happened… I
don’t know… I didn’t lose anyone, I didn’t get shot at, I wasn’t near an
explosion… why do I feel this way?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
can’t just be because I’m a caring individual, David is a caring person and he
hasn’t reacted this way… it’s caused me to take a break from one of my
volunteering posts because if I’m in this state, I can’t think about being
there for someone else completely.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the end…I’ve sort of tailed off… my mind isn’t in its usual (just
about) working order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and may thanks
to Carl for the call this morning…I’m sorry you had to hear me cry.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1TOsQMbqKrNuuo8V728OvF8HbyGmZ8NzqYaNIHFq4mDiALiYzzU-5UNNGE8tXqD7fba_1VR6Fm2N4NMw05-QPRM48YbTliFBYSSOAW8aAwmDPhiSI2cC2Wtj5Y86RaCLpQcXKFc4stw/s1600/nonhandwritten.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1TOsQMbqKrNuuo8V728OvF8HbyGmZ8NzqYaNIHFq4mDiALiYzzU-5UNNGE8tXqD7fba_1VR6Fm2N4NMw05-QPRM48YbTliFBYSSOAW8aAwmDPhiSI2cC2Wtj5Y86RaCLpQcXKFc4stw/s320/nonhandwritten.png" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></span></span></i> </div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></span></span></i> </div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></span></span></i> </div>
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</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></span></span></i> </div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">*Me: I don’t want to talk
about it <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">
</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Them: Oh why, how close
were you to it all? <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">
</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Me: Not that close
but…Excuse me *rushes to bathroom to cry*</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200800417956906340.post-24931600979296151462015-08-10T05:34:00.000-07:002015-08-10T05:34:07.504-07:00Hello blogger, my old friend
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I only ever write when I’m upset or
something catastrophic has happened to me and for that I’m sorry, but I’ve got
to get this out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I hit 36 in May of this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m getting on (in dog years, I’d be
dead).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As every media outlet seems to
delight in telling me, I’m not getting any younger, so I should probably start
a family or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well dear
readers, I’ve tried (not like the Immaculate Conception, obvs) actually, I
should probably say WE’VE tried, and nothing is happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it’s probably all my fault.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m morbidly obese, according to the BMI scale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’m shocking trying to do anything about
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, we both try to eat healthier,
but as with everything, that falls off during the month until we’re just eating
junk and crap and getting takeaways instead of cooking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And each time, I beat myself up, each time, I
fall back there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’m not an
emotional eater; if anything I’m an emotional starver.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To add to things, I can’t exercise at the moment due to a
stupid trip down the stairs that’s fucked my hip up (I can’t tell you how
excited I am to have a man jam a steroid injection into my hip joint – but I
don’t know when that’s going to happen – could be a fortnight, could be
November).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So my movements are very
restricted, walking can be agony at times, so treadmill running (which I
actually enjoy) is way out of the question.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vZG9d7yZrQJBTWoRWN1W4FdPjYmmMmSVR42zWL7H9IXb6N1S8PkqwX1YOSDd56Cve_1u3vBiXdNl49_ryu6yGOk0i5butFgdRFtnn4w41NBPtjFdf5RNl_AKSf0DJTzdLyLht0lctQ/s1600/scales.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vZG9d7yZrQJBTWoRWN1W4FdPjYmmMmSVR42zWL7H9IXb6N1S8PkqwX1YOSDd56Cve_1u3vBiXdNl49_ryu6yGOk0i5butFgdRFtnn4w41NBPtjFdf5RNl_AKSf0DJTzdLyLht0lctQ/s320/scales.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So being a fatty isn’t conducive to conception, it certainly
also means that IVF isn’t an option either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m so desperate to lose weight AND have a child that it’s all I can
think about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I wasn’t such a great
big fucking fat mess, then we’d be swimming in kids now, probably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve even enquired about a gastric bypass so
that I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can’t</i> eat the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My circle of close friends, bar one, have at
least one child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve jokingly said to
my friend who has four that should she pop out another, could she just let me
have it instead?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s easy to try to
laugh it off; it isn’t so easy to hide the pain and the tears regarding a
situation that is ultimately probably my own making.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know I probably shouldn’t be whinging on about how I’m
fat, I’m well aware it’s my own fault, it’s just losing weight isn’t easy,
especially when you suffer with depression, low self-esteem and that nagging
feeling that you’re an embarrassment to your friends and loved ones due to your
size.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grew up with the mind-set that
fat cannot be attractive, although there are hundreds of THOUSANDS of
exceptions to this rule.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found myself
perusing ‘pro ana’ sites as I browsed for which VLCD was best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that frightens me, but then again,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve felt like a failure for not being able
to develop an eating disorder for fucks sake – how screwed in the head am
I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> is how any normal person thinks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve downloaded a ‘virtual gastric band’
hypnosis app, knowing that it’ll just be mumbo jumbo bollocks and won’t help me
a jot (still going to try though, I have to).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I suppose this is heading, ultimately, to the fact that I am
just terrified that I am never going to have a child of my own, I’m never going
to give birth, hold nine months’ worth of work, blood, cells, love; nine
months’ worth of David and me mixed together into a teeny tiny mewling pink
ball of new human.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know there’s adoption
which is something that we’ve discussed in the past, but to me, right at this
moment in time, I want to feel how being pregnant feels, the tiredness, the
puke, the ankle swelling, the constant need for weeing, the contractions, all
of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If I start dieting now, I don’t know how long it will take
for me to get to a weight where I can actually realistically conceive, assisted
or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m scared I’ll be too old; I’ll
be 40 or over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Christ knows, I have
to do it, I have to try.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfgNrkdN403Ce7cDEzshc4zx5NfKyPr1r5PRLtULjhbGdPIsch0iUWieLQjCFwwe7ntyPi5FlUjEqCkc38DKsIpJVlVyurW9pVFNbERNFfadBhU20L59Ss_uBhqxtWVELj0bO_h8eVFg/s1600/walk-away-or-try-harder_ananddiary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfgNrkdN403Ce7cDEzshc4zx5NfKyPr1r5PRLtULjhbGdPIsch0iUWieLQjCFwwe7ntyPi5FlUjEqCkc38DKsIpJVlVyurW9pVFNbERNFfadBhU20L59Ss_uBhqxtWVELj0bO_h8eVFg/s320/walk-away-or-try-harder_ananddiary.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Try harder, you stupid critter.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Mini Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15838916607958398896noreply@blogger.com1