3 September 2006

I wonder, can you have schizophrenia without the voices? Only, I see it portrayed on the TV; in novels, with no voices. And it seems like I imagine myself to be when I'm at my worst. And the doctors, the ask all these questions, and it doesn't always seem like I'm giving the right answer. There've never been voices, I try to say with confidence, but in the back of my mind there was that one time. Blue bells tolling.

We finally found a flat!

Six weeks ago (yes, SIX weeks), when we first started looking for somewhere, we saw a very nice flat in a block about two minutes from the station. It was just about big enough for us (the only niggle being that the kitchen is a little small) and has a garden and a parking space (not that we have a car, but always useful for visitors). The trouble was it was too expensive, by about £200pcm.

Well yesterday we got it. They've knocked that £200 off the price and we finally have a flat.

We were in Wimbledon all day yesterday frantically trying to find something. We walked into this agents just to chance our luck and they tried to offer us the flat. We explained that we'd already seen it and while we really like it, it was just too expensive. The agent got on the phone there and then and knocked the guy straight down. It was brilliant.

And now no more trips out house hunting. We can finally have a life again (for two more weeks until we have to start packing).

We didn't get the flat. After putting the deposit down on Friday, the owner decided on Monday that he didn't want a kid in the flat. Despite the agent assuring us Tommy wouldn't be a problem (and letting us see the place twice knowing we had a child), he was a problem. Funnily enough, I love my son more than the flat and losing the flat was easy. Even now, I feel now sense of loss for the place - more annoyance at the hassle of starting the search again.

There is, however, hope. We started looking yesterday. One was too small; the other just that little bit too expensive. Today we were booked in for two - we never made it to the second.

We've put another holding deposit down on a ground floor flat in a gated block. It's big enough for us, has a gas hob (much to Yuri's delight) and a little spot just outside the kitchen door (it opens onto the fire escape) that's just perfect for barbeques and drying clothes. Best of all, hiddeen behind a row of trees behind the block is a huge, gorgeous garden with a built in barbeque and, much to Tommy's excitement, a swing! There's even apple trees which both me and Tommy loved. It's just perfect. So we're praying this time everything goes all right.

The net filter at work blocks the BBC, but not blogger.
Yeah, I can't make sense of it either.

Having just seen two very nice pictures of black labs (or at least, what I assume were black labs), I'm sorely tempted to get one. Tommy and Yuri would certainly love it, and this is a major turn from my no dog stance. My saving grace (because I'm sure I'd regret it in a month if I did get one), is that any new flat we get, would most likely have a no pets policy. And I'm sure this whim is a replacement for the fact that we know we can't afford another baby. Hell, we couldn't afford a dog anyways. But for today, I shall dream.

We found a house that we like. It's in South Wimbledon, between the tube there and Wimbledon centre. It's big enough for us, it's on the ground floor, and it even has a strip of garden at the back (albeit shared by the rest of the block). With any luck we'll even be able to get it relative cheap. It's perfect.

The only problem is the holding deposit. As in we don't have one until the end of the week when I get paid. We just have to hope and pray it doesn't go in the meantime.

They've closed the Strand underpass. Now, logic would dictate that if you close 50% of the road, another 25% shouldn't be closed at the same time. Oh no, why not take another lane on the surface out so that traffic backs up past Waterloo.
And more to the point, adding another ten mins to my journey to work.

I was talking with Beth last night about church, as Dad had said he'd try it one weekend in the summer. On the subject of Mum attending too, she said "Mum won't go to your church because you go to a, and I quote, "happy clappy" church.

Happy clappy. I like that!

Two of the women in my Living Free group were on the encounter at the same time as me; one leading, one participating. In fact, the one in the group who was leading, was the one who followed me for the best part of five miles.

Today, as we were talking, the second woman was explaining something she had felt over that weekend. Into her explanation came the phrase "after C had to go after that other lady".

That "other lady" was me.

Four weeks ago, when this second woman appeared in our group, I was fighting off a panic attack. It took some serious strength and prayer to be able to get back and sit through that session. Today, I laughed it off, with the sort of laugh that said 'oops, that was me' and that was it.

I can't help feeling this is real progress.

After another unsuccesful counselling session on Sunday, Yuri (perhaps with a little encouragement from me) decided to take matters into his own hands. And request that my counsellor be changed. And we found out today that it's happening.

I'll be the first to say that I'm happy with this but, I'm also really concerned. Not for me, but for anyone else she tries to work with. It worries me that while I was lucky enough to have help, someone else may not be. Someone else may not be strong enough to cope.

Yes!

I had a letter from work today. They're paying me for the entire duration of my (three week) sick leave. That's definately a prayer answered.

As for returning to work, I have mixed feelings. Although not great circumstances, I have certainly enjoyed my leave. It's been great to spend all this time with Tommy, just watching how he gets on with his day. While I certainly feel ready to go back, and am even going a little stir crazy sitting around the house all day, I will miss this extra time I've been spending with him.

Happy birthday to me!

And a blinding day it has been!

You may recall a while back I mentioned having signed up for this. Well, the past two days have been amazing and it is just getting better and better. I started out really having to drag myself out of the house but the moment I got in there something clicked and I was feeling much better. Well I've been getting better and better since. I have an action plan, I know what I need to heal, and how to get it. I'm gonna get what I can from the rest of the weekend (which I trust will be A LOT!) and then attack on Monday. I still have another week off work and I'm going to use it!

My next counseling appointment wasn't supposed to be until Tuesday. But it occurred to me, that if I was in a similar state to after the last appointment, there wouldn't be much use in me going to Living Free. So I changed it. For last night.

I knew that this was going to be the make or break appointment. Either nothing would happen or something would click. Well, a click was probably the furthest thing that could've happened.

We studied from this. Which is all very well, but I thought counselling was about talking, and analysing, and pulling apart to gain a greater understanding (correct me if I'm wrong). After about half an hour of poorly read pages (and not a single scripture), I got up the courage to say that I needed to talk about what happened that weekend. And so I started. After barely two minutes I was interrupted. I tried to carry on but had no chance. And so gave up and just sat and nodded and smiled in the appropriate places. For another hour and a half. Half of it was read twice because the counsellor would go off on a tangent and not remember where she'd left the text. I also found her too willing to share personal information about herself without encouragement from me. I didn't think counsellors were supposed to do that?

By half way through I'd decided that this wasn't working and had made up my mind to request a new counsellor. When I spoke to Yuri afterwards (he was somewhat panicked - thinking something bad had happened to me. I don't think he expected death by poor reading) he said he'd been talking to his leader (the husband of my leader), who said my leader was so unimpressed with the first appointment (she sat and 'held my hand') that she was going to try and change my counsellor anyways. She just thought she'd have time to do it without bothering me. She didn't bank on me changing the appointment to one so soon.

On the plus side, it has given me an idea of the form I want my counselling to take and where I don't want to go with it all.

I find, that the trouble with caramel snack-a-jacks is that once I start eating them I can never stop. They're just so not filling.

So, I had my first counselling session yesterday and it was disgustingly horribly hideous. Yes, I expected it to be. But, my expectations clearly weren't in line with what happened. I would've liked to talk more, instead of listen. I know it was more of an introduction than anything, but I don't feel the introductions got off on the right foot.

The appointment came through this morning. It's for Sunday afternoon.

Anyone who's had to put up with me this week would probably think this would make me happy. No, until Yui calmed me down I was as good as panicking. Now I know when I'll have to deal.

I couldn't wait any longer and so got Yuri to call and find out when my appointment might be. I'm not sure whether it's worse not knowing when the appointment might be or knowing that it 'might be early next week'. Early next week I have to go back to my doctor and explain why I need another week off work and why, despite the fact that I may well need it, still refuse to take any medicine.

I did briefly speak to the co-ordinator as well. I'm not sure how much benefit I got from the conversation, but I can see that it was designed to reassure me. I was given a scripture to read - and knew at once what it was. It was the one Beth passed along two days ago. Jeremiah 29: 11-13. While at surface I understand what is being said when people direct me to this place, I can't help feeling there's a something else that I'm failing to get. I must be missing something in all this.

Please bear with me - these next few entries are bound to be very fragmented and will probably not make sense. I'd forgive anyone for deciding to get out now.

I wonder how long it should take for a counseling appointment to come through. I returned the forms on Tuesday evening. This isn't NHS (otherwise I wouldn't even be asking).

The thing is, I can't help getting worried about it. What if they won't be able to help me? The form practically had be justifying why I needed counseling. It makes me worried that I'll be judged as not enough in need.

I think what's worse is that I can't talk about it in the meantime. I guess it's not that I can't talk about it - I'm sure I could go and tell practically anyone I'd want to. This one goes two ways. If I speak to most people, I'd end up in an institute quicker than you could get an ambulance here. The other side is that the people I need to talk to most seem to be under instruction not to talk to me about it until my counseling is well under way. And in the meantime, here's me stuck in the middle of all this red tape and fear, churning on the inside.

And just so this makes sense, I went through a rather traumatic experience at the weekend which resulted in me being detained under the Mental Health Act (hence the fear of being institutionalized), although mental health certainly wasn't the reason I should've been detained.

I could scream. None of this makes sense, even to me and it's a sad thing that in all of this, the only place I can start to get things off my chest is here. And I really didn't want to muddy the tone of this blog.

I'm getting up the courage to blog.

This isn't going to be easy.

On the weekend I bought a rather nice pair of linen trousers.

Only I'd forgotten how scratchy linen is and how easily it creases.

We spent this afternoon researching into the next place to live. Shepherd's Bush and Hamersmith were up for judgement, picked for being close to church (but not within hideously expensive Notting Hill - oh we wish!) and also that it's easy to get to work from either.

Shepherd's Bush was a no - lack of shops and generally a bit too downcast for me (although Tommy was impressed with the large number of McDonald's).

Hammersmith, however, I loved. Shops, coffee, erm... more shops. Yeah, that'll do for me. Doesn't take much to keep this gal quiet.

Next project, to make sure we can actually afford it.

A friend told me about this. It's probably a good thing that Yuri's only just gotten in because it'd been on repeat for the best part of an hour. Oops.

They're playing in London again in June. Oh how I wish I had the money for tickets, but at £35 a piece it's a little beyond our price range. Well ok, maybe more than a little. Will have to settle for a new cd instead.

I think i'm losing weight

and I have proof!

December 2005:
Yesterday:

I didn't get into the band. No a problem - I can see why (and neither did Yuri so I do feel a little better).

This has, however, issued a challenge. I'm not going to accept the "you're not good enough" (however it was said). I'm going to fight back. I've asked for singing lessons for my birthday and I will not be defeated.

Is a hermaphrodite gay?

As I was passing Blackwells (the book store), I noticed a display in the window: "The Big Gay Read". No problems there. What got to me was the inclusion of Jeffrey Eugenidies' "Middlesex". It made me want to go into the store and ask what the hell that book was doing there?

For those of you who have read the book, you know what I mean. For those you who haven't, I urge you to get hold of a copy as it is an amazing book.

A really good Praise Party this Saturday, and two things of note for me: firstly that I signed up for a conference without thinking, even though I knew it's on the same weekend as my company's annual ball. Does it bother me that as far as work life is concerned this is the event of the year? No. I'd rather be at the conference. I think I surprised Yuri a little with that one.

Secondly, both of us auditioned to sing in the band. I'll let Yuri give you his feelings on his attempt, but as for me, I am seriously unimpressed with myself. It's not so much a case of whether or not I get in, 'm more kicking myself because it was so appauling that if I don't get in, it's all my fault for not being good enough, especially when I know that I more than am. So, we'll see. . .

What would you make of a dream

where your old friends dragged you to a party even though you didn't want to go. Then, despite the fact that even more old friends were there, you chose to stay with the people you'd only ever seen from afar because they understood. Then, when you realised those people had left, you ran across an unknown town trying to follow them.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Tommy and I went back to Mum and Dad's this weekend. It wasn't for anything special, in fact, most of them were out for half the weekend, but it was good to get a change of scenery.

We got the train there reminding me that a) I don't like trains and b) I don't like the price of train travel. The weekend came down to a few points. Namely that I found out that the worse of my bad eating habits stem from spending time at Mum's (fridge/cupboard picking without thinking of the consequences) and watching Charlie & the Chocolate Factory. Quite good but nowhere near as much of the musicality of the first. And of course, a bit different. Do I remember reading about Willy Wonka actually having a father?

Lost another pound this week. That's 23lbs in total. Am quite pleased with myself as I've gone past 10% of my starting body weight. Still a long way to go, three stones to be precise, but I'm getting there.

All of us from work went out to Loch Fyne for lunch today. I was sorely disappointed.

I had the seafood salad, which was drenched in so much oil (certainly not mentioned on the menu and so high in points that I would've asked not to have it) that the salad turned see-through and started wilting. Then I had the rainbow trout. It was a tiny piece of overcooked fish that came with nothing but a few vegetables. Certainly not worth the money I paid for it. By the looks of things, no-one else did much better.

Add to that the fact that the service was appauling, I wouldn't recommend the place to anyone! So there you are, steer clear of Loch Fyne in Covent Garden.

How to wreck a diet day

Find someone giving away mentos outside Charing Cross.

How could I resist? They were almost an addiction whilst pregnant.

Tommy's learnt some new phrases. It's quite exciting because for the first time, they're not just words or expressions. He now says 'it's a' (usually car) and 'look at the'. He's also, thanks to teletubbies, learnt to say bu'erfly. He sings too. The song goes 'Tubbies. LaLa.' over and over again. Ocasionally you can convince him to throw in Po but he always goes back to the same. He sung it all the way from Canary Wharf to Seven Sisters yesterday.

Once a month we take him to Baby Praise which he seems to enjoy (as long as we're not in the room with him - we spy on him from the upper levels of the church). From this, he's picked up the way they pray. This weekend he's been grabbing our hands and putting them together, putting his together, and then saying his little prayers.

There are times when motherhood doesn't impress me overly much. Times like this evening, when I get back from work to ind Yuri and Tommy waiting in reception (just like I'd asked), with Tommy projectile vomiting all over the floor.
I can forgive the poor boy for being sick. That's not nice. What gets me is the moment he'd had his sick-covered jacket removed, he climbed up on one of the chairs and started grinning like the cheshire cat. Obviously the whole episode was quite amusing for some.

Grrr

Have put in all my links, but whatever I do, they don't appear (seems that they're there, but the text is black and I can't sort it).
Why is blogger so complex?

Saturday Tommy kicked off his shoe and didn't tell me until we were on the bus. Cue purchase of new pair (grrr) and subsequent finding of missing shoe on the way home.

Sunday I realised that Saturday's sore/scratchy throat wasn't the result of not drinking enough (as per usual), but the start of a stinking cold that's leaving me sick, headachy, dizzy and unable to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time.

Monday my big achievement was actually making it to weight watchers (having found a trip to the shops to get Nurofen (and they are only across the road) too much to handle). I probably shouldn't mention that I had to get Yuri to come with me because I wondered if it was too much for me to get there on my own (and it's only two blocks from home). Another two pounds gone this week though.

And today my big achievement is managing to do the washing up, although I feel worse now than I did when I started. I guess I won't be tackling that huge ironing pile later.

I love you!

Yuri had done something wrong. As with all minor things he does wrong, his standard response was "I looove you!"

Now whenever he hears someone say "I love you" he says back to them "love you". How cute can this boy get. This one almost made me cry.

A few weeks back Tommy learned a word we'd rather he hadn't. We assume (although we're not positive) that the only place he could've learnt this word was from his aunt's fiancee.

Last night he heard someone shout it as we were getting on the bus. It took me a while to realise it, but he had started to repeat it over and over again.

Barking his name and a very stern look stopped that one, but for how long?

The party last night was great fun. Silly games involving pieces of paper stuck to backs and eggs amongst other things. Tommy was well behaved and after the initial shock of being thrust into a small room full of people, he and his friend proceeded to make more noise than everyone else put together (and we are a noisy bunch).

Most mornings the three of us leave together, going our separate ways at the gate. This morning, Tommy started waving goodbye to me before we'd even got to the gate, and carried on waving as I crossed the road and walked off. How sweet!

It's been an eventful few days.

Saturday night Yuri and I went to the praise party/valentines day party at the church. I was really good fun. Tried my hand (or should I say feet) at salsa dancing and although I was pretty much awful, I still enjoyed it.

Sunday we went to meet our new cell groups. Tommy made a new friend, who I'm sure will now be referred to as the dynamic duo. They were little terrors together. The only down point was when they found a bottle of flash bathroom cleaner and it got sprayed in Tommy's eyes. His scream alone shocked the life out of me and I was running around in a mad panic trying to wash the stuff out. Yuri later told me that the only reason he wasn't worried was that as a kid, he'd drunk some of the stuff. I did resist the temptation to mention that the effects were obvious. Still, once Tommy had recovered from the shock he was fine, and the boys spent a fair while chasing each other up and down the hall screaming at the top of their voices. Our poor friends are going to have complaints from their neighbours!

And last night was weigh in night. I'd been such a pig all week I was totally prepared to have put on weight. Imagine my shock when I realised I'd lost another 4lbs. That's a stone in total and I am so happy. Only another 3lbs to go and I'll have lost 10% of my starting body weight.

It's good news though. I've got a party to go to on the first weekend in April and it's eveningwear. Not that I've got the money to go out and buy eveningwear anyways, but I'm even less inclined to knowing that at this stage in my diet, I'll only ever get to wear said item once. It hardly justifies spending the best part of £100. And I need to get new shoes too - as the only ones theat I could wear are stuck in a suitcase in Sao Paulo.

Shoes are sorted - I found the Office sale shop on my walkies today. Now I've issued myself with a challenge: to fit into my prom dress that I wore when I was 15. That sounds bad, I know. But it's not as bad as it sounds. It's only a 16 so that's really only another dress size. The real problem is finding a bra to wear with it. It needs to have crossing straps and to be backless. Now that was difficult enough when I was a 36C. Now (although this is a rough guess coz I need to get buy more in the right size) I'm a 34J. I know available ranges have improved somewhat in recent years, but I wonder if they've improved this much. We shall see...

It's payback time!

Tommy has developed a new obsession: feeding us our food. He only has to see a fork now and he's stabbing at the nearest edible item and trying to stuff it into someone's mouth.

It's payback time for all the times we tried to get him to eat another mouthful when he first started 'food' and since then, when he's just being stubborn and plain awkward.

I hate to think what's to come in the next few years.

At about four this morning, Tommy decided that it was time to get up and nothing was going to change his mind. Eventually though he gave up. I guess it's no fun staying up when neither of your parents will get up to play.

At eight this morning, when both Yuri and I were running around the house trying to get out in time for work, nothing would wake him. With everything we tried he responded by turning around and trying to continu sleeping without even batting an eyelid (just like his father).

This evening, when I got in from work, he was still having his afternoon sleep. Only moments later he woke up for long enough to get another bottle and then went back to sleep.

Tommy woke up later on, just in time to pinch some of our dinner.

Is it me, or is someones sleep pattern squewed?