I wake up - feeling low and - guess what - paranoid!
I believe that our neighbours have somehow conspired with the people at last nights party, to tell me that I am worthless.... I am intrinsically bad, and they are poisoning my friends against me..
I don't remember much about today, except that I painted.... and painted. I can't interact much with the kids, cos I have much to do, and I don't need reminding what a crap mother I am...
I am aware, that tomorrow, I see the mental health team, in the form of my consultant. I like my consultant, and trust her - but am damned if they are going to stuff me full of anti-psychotics again!! but I know that this is a real option..
Towards the end of the day, I reach the end of my tether - I no longer have a clue as to what is going on - yeah, I know the neighbours hate me, the fridge hates me, and there is much going on behind the scenes to convince me that I am worthless - and it is working...
I can't go on anymore - deep down, I am exhausted - I have to pay attention to every single piece of stimuli, in case it is somehow relevant, and there is a message in there somewhere, regarding my situation - I can't cope with the children, I can't cope with being supervised by dh - and I can't cope with having to second guess everyones motives and hidden meanings..
I...just...can't...cope
there is also the real possibility that someone, somewhere, will decide that I am mentally ill, and that I will have to return to mental health services - this appalls me - its like being between the devil and the deep blue sea - I can't carry on at home, but the thought of being in mental health again, because someone doesn't believe what is happened at home, makes me shudder
I can't 'do' either option - I really really can't - I feel hideously trapped. I can't escape my thoughts, or the fridge or the neighbours, or mental health - or - indeed - myself. The thought that I am intrinsically bad, is all pervasive - I hate myself, and the effect I have on my loved ones - I truly can't see any way out - I can't change the way I think or feel, because I truly believe that there are various people in conspiracy against me - likewise, I can't go down the mental health route, because the people conspiring against me, will have won. either way, I let my family down - I just can't go on - my thoughts go round and round, over the same ground. I feel like screaming - but I can't - I am very very frightened - too frightened to scream...
I want out of this - I want to die.
At the moment, it seems like the only viable option, out of this hell...
Monday 15 January 2007
Saturday 4th November
I wake up, and feel low and paranoid - not to mention wheezy!!
I omitted the steroids yesterday, after the trip to the police station, but after requiring a nebulizer again overnight, it becomes apparent, that steroids, are not an optional extra, and indeed, are necessary for me to beable to breathe..
I get up, and take more steroids..
This morning my friend (BML) comes round - last time I spoke to her on the phone, I was flying!! Ithink I made her ears bleed....
When BML comes around, to our new house - I show her round, and our kids play together. I feel strangely distanced from it all - although it is great to see BML - whilst I am showing her round, I feel like the worst kind of fraud - I love my new house, but the fridge hates me, and so do the neighbours, and it makes me feel very very uneasy - I am operating on two levels.
BML is very lovely - some weeks later, she says that I looked very very pale, and unwell. BML goes home, and I go to paint - the steroids appear to kick in, and I perform the age old ritual of kicking the fridge, and glossing the skirting boards - at least I am out of mischief, and not ranting at strangers, so dh doesn't intervene that much..
Tonight, some friends of mine from Tae kwon Do, were having a bonfire party, which I normally go to each year. Dh is reluctant in some ways, but is happy for me to go, if he can accompany me, and on the condition that if I seem really inappropriate, we agree that he can bring me home - but I really want to go... so we do...
The party was nice, although I ended up inappropriately telling 3 different peeps from TKD about my trip to the police station, and asking them how they find their fridges etc...
despite my inappropriateness, which am sure people put down to alcohol, I had a great time! I was ermm flying again!!
Ds1 was great, ds2 fell asleep on their rug, and eventually, the hosts were left, with me blethering on, whilst dh comandeered me out of the door, with a fast asleep ds2 on his shoulder..
When we get back, I ask dh how he was.
He tells me that when he went to the buffet, he got a plate for ds2, then returned for a plate for ds1 - someone commented that SOME people hadn't even had 'firsts' yet, whilst others (dh) were returning for seconds... he wasn't... but it really affected me -
I fell apart, and cried into the small hours - it feels like everything I touch, turns to shit - and even a small 'criticism' aimed at dh - even albeit unwarranted - makes me completely break down. The 'flying 'does a nose dive, and I cry incessantly instead - I can't bear it!! for someone to aim an unwarranted criticism at dh - when it is my friends party - just makes me die inside - I feel intrinsically 'bad' somehow, and that I am poisoning my family...
I cry and cry.....
I omitted the steroids yesterday, after the trip to the police station, but after requiring a nebulizer again overnight, it becomes apparent, that steroids, are not an optional extra, and indeed, are necessary for me to beable to breathe..
I get up, and take more steroids..
This morning my friend (BML) comes round - last time I spoke to her on the phone, I was flying!! Ithink I made her ears bleed....
When BML comes around, to our new house - I show her round, and our kids play together. I feel strangely distanced from it all - although it is great to see BML - whilst I am showing her round, I feel like the worst kind of fraud - I love my new house, but the fridge hates me, and so do the neighbours, and it makes me feel very very uneasy - I am operating on two levels.
BML is very lovely - some weeks later, she says that I looked very very pale, and unwell. BML goes home, and I go to paint - the steroids appear to kick in, and I perform the age old ritual of kicking the fridge, and glossing the skirting boards - at least I am out of mischief, and not ranting at strangers, so dh doesn't intervene that much..
Tonight, some friends of mine from Tae kwon Do, were having a bonfire party, which I normally go to each year. Dh is reluctant in some ways, but is happy for me to go, if he can accompany me, and on the condition that if I seem really inappropriate, we agree that he can bring me home - but I really want to go... so we do...
The party was nice, although I ended up inappropriately telling 3 different peeps from TKD about my trip to the police station, and asking them how they find their fridges etc...
despite my inappropriateness, which am sure people put down to alcohol, I had a great time! I was ermm flying again!!
Ds1 was great, ds2 fell asleep on their rug, and eventually, the hosts were left, with me blethering on, whilst dh comandeered me out of the door, with a fast asleep ds2 on his shoulder..
When we get back, I ask dh how he was.
He tells me that when he went to the buffet, he got a plate for ds2, then returned for a plate for ds1 - someone commented that SOME people hadn't even had 'firsts' yet, whilst others (dh) were returning for seconds... he wasn't... but it really affected me -
I fell apart, and cried into the small hours - it feels like everything I touch, turns to shit - and even a small 'criticism' aimed at dh - even albeit unwarranted - makes me completely break down. The 'flying 'does a nose dive, and I cry incessantly instead - I can't bear it!! for someone to aim an unwarranted criticism at dh - when it is my friends party - just makes me die inside - I feel intrinsically 'bad' somehow, and that I am poisoning my family...
I cry and cry.....
Saturday 6 January 2007
Friday 3rd November
dh was very sweet - but the shame of it - we lay in bed together - dh slept, and I ruminated..
My trip to the police station had achieved nothing - a big fat nothing!! they didn't believe me - although they were very kind, and now dh was bound to be pissed off with me, cos he didn't understand - I just didn't know where to turn - it was all like some bad dream....
I got up in the night, to go to the loo - dh stirred, and asked me sleepily where I was going - I guess he was on alert for me bogging off to the local constabulary again - I felt shame, love, and anger wash over me, in equal measures.........
How can I get him to understand - about the neighbours, the fridge - and just how frightened I am - why can't he let me sort it?
fell into a troubled sleep - but worried about dh..
In the morning, I overheard dh ringing in 'sick' - he's not sick - I just can't get myself together enough to sort out the neighbours and the fridge.
I hate myself - to my family, I am a huge burden - they think I'm ill, and although I know things aren't 'right' - I can't seem to sort it all out - it all seems beyond me, and am scared..
We both took the boys to school today, cos am under 'supervision' - I was making 'small talk' at the school gates - yet feeling my world was upside down -I could feel myself sweat with fear, whilst I chatted about the bake sale..
We got home, and I approached the fridge for cheese -the fridge - with the now missing digital display - the fact it was missing, made me even more uneasy - at least before, the messages were clear - now, I had to find other ways of interpreting its sulleness... I know its not right - but now I am bereft of concrete proof - so I return to kicking it..
I go up to bed, to lie down, and stare miserably at the ceiling..
I don't realise it at the time, but the timing of the steroids, ensure my own personal mental microclimate - looking back, I used to wake, feeling low and stupified - take the steroids, and gradually, grow high and deluded through-out the day..
Today , am so freaked out, I missed my morning dose of steroids - I stil believe in all the stuff about the fridge and the neighbours, but know instinctively, that the steroids are somehow related to the fear, and the hyperactivity - If I didn't have the fear, I could somehow cope - so I resolve not to take them today - this backfires somewhat later in the day, by means of worsening asthma.....
Downstairs, I can hear Dh phoning the mental health team. I suck my teeth, and feel deeply for him - this isn't exactly going to make me low maintainance anymore - phoning and getting through to mental health, getting the relevant help, is akin to phoning NTL - I eavesdrop..
Three calls later, he has located the secretary, who works for the consultant in charge of my care. she wants me to go via surgery receptionist, GP, duty doctor, etc etc..
Upstairs, I am thinking "Nooo way!!"
Dh isn't having it - I was assured on discharge from the mental health team, that I would be entitled to rapid access to the consultant in charge of my care - of course, I took it with a huge pinch of salt, like you would, and smiled - afterall - I wouldn't be needing it again, would I?
Dh eventually pulls rank - he tells them that I do not need to go to several irrelevant health professionals to cry, and to tell them the fridge is persecuting me - I just need the consultant - moreover, he IS a GP himself - I think what swings it, is the police involvement from last night - how bad would it look if I tripped up to a crowded place, wielding a sharp implement... Dh doesn't suggest this btw - but the police involvement, definitely casts it all in a more 'formal' light..
She gives us an appointment to see the consultant in 3 days time - I am somewhat indifferent at this point - and they will do what?
That afternoon, we have one of ds2's friends round for lunch from pre-school - I was desperate not to let him down, so they chased around the house together...
That evening, I phone several friends, over and over, and they give me reassurance, and lots of love, and help..
The fridge is still problematic....
I really feel for dh - he clearly doesn't understand what is going on,but equally, I hate causing him so much trouble - I want to ask him what he told the people at work, as to why he was sick - but I don't want to address it either, cos I might feel worse
Dh asked me what we could do to help me get through today - so I made him take me to B&Q for more...paint.....
so - painted lots.........
My trip to the police station had achieved nothing - a big fat nothing!! they didn't believe me - although they were very kind, and now dh was bound to be pissed off with me, cos he didn't understand - I just didn't know where to turn - it was all like some bad dream....
I got up in the night, to go to the loo - dh stirred, and asked me sleepily where I was going - I guess he was on alert for me bogging off to the local constabulary again - I felt shame, love, and anger wash over me, in equal measures.........
How can I get him to understand - about the neighbours, the fridge - and just how frightened I am - why can't he let me sort it?
fell into a troubled sleep - but worried about dh..
In the morning, I overheard dh ringing in 'sick' - he's not sick - I just can't get myself together enough to sort out the neighbours and the fridge.
I hate myself - to my family, I am a huge burden - they think I'm ill, and although I know things aren't 'right' - I can't seem to sort it all out - it all seems beyond me, and am scared..
We both took the boys to school today, cos am under 'supervision' - I was making 'small talk' at the school gates - yet feeling my world was upside down -I could feel myself sweat with fear, whilst I chatted about the bake sale..
We got home, and I approached the fridge for cheese -the fridge - with the now missing digital display - the fact it was missing, made me even more uneasy - at least before, the messages were clear - now, I had to find other ways of interpreting its sulleness... I know its not right - but now I am bereft of concrete proof - so I return to kicking it..
I go up to bed, to lie down, and stare miserably at the ceiling..
I don't realise it at the time, but the timing of the steroids, ensure my own personal mental microclimate - looking back, I used to wake, feeling low and stupified - take the steroids, and gradually, grow high and deluded through-out the day..
Today , am so freaked out, I missed my morning dose of steroids - I stil believe in all the stuff about the fridge and the neighbours, but know instinctively, that the steroids are somehow related to the fear, and the hyperactivity - If I didn't have the fear, I could somehow cope - so I resolve not to take them today - this backfires somewhat later in the day, by means of worsening asthma.....
Downstairs, I can hear Dh phoning the mental health team. I suck my teeth, and feel deeply for him - this isn't exactly going to make me low maintainance anymore - phoning and getting through to mental health, getting the relevant help, is akin to phoning NTL - I eavesdrop..
Three calls later, he has located the secretary, who works for the consultant in charge of my care. she wants me to go via surgery receptionist, GP, duty doctor, etc etc..
Upstairs, I am thinking "Nooo way!!"
Dh isn't having it - I was assured on discharge from the mental health team, that I would be entitled to rapid access to the consultant in charge of my care - of course, I took it with a huge pinch of salt, like you would, and smiled - afterall - I wouldn't be needing it again, would I?
Dh eventually pulls rank - he tells them that I do not need to go to several irrelevant health professionals to cry, and to tell them the fridge is persecuting me - I just need the consultant - moreover, he IS a GP himself - I think what swings it, is the police involvement from last night - how bad would it look if I tripped up to a crowded place, wielding a sharp implement... Dh doesn't suggest this btw - but the police involvement, definitely casts it all in a more 'formal' light..
She gives us an appointment to see the consultant in 3 days time - I am somewhat indifferent at this point - and they will do what?
That afternoon, we have one of ds2's friends round for lunch from pre-school - I was desperate not to let him down, so they chased around the house together...
That evening, I phone several friends, over and over, and they give me reassurance, and lots of love, and help..
The fridge is still problematic....
I really feel for dh - he clearly doesn't understand what is going on,but equally, I hate causing him so much trouble - I want to ask him what he told the people at work, as to why he was sick - but I don't want to address it either, cos I might feel worse
Dh asked me what we could do to help me get through today - so I made him take me to B&Q for more...paint.....
so - painted lots.........
Friday 5 January 2007
Thursday 2nd november
Thursday 2 November
I awoke,, after around an hours fractured sleep, beset by disturbing dreams
- Dh was off today - cos of his long long days as a GP, he has a day off mid-week, on Thursdays, to regulate his hours - Dh is such a sweetheart, and took the kids to school, and pre-school accordingly..
Chest is definitely improving - still a little wheezy, but no acute attacks etc…
I felt a little low, and somewhat ‘frozen’ - what the fuck was going on?
I felt sooo good yesterday, and now I felt uneasy, unnerved, and somewhat immobile - I went to make myself cheese on toast - when retrieving the cheese from the fridge (‘too warm’!) things boiled over, and I gave the fridge a furious solid hate-filled kicking, in frustration and dismay- I HATE this fucking fridge - it seemed to symbolise my life in some ways - too warm, always off kilter, and out of synch.
I reached for the steroids (have to be taken early morning to mimic the natural cortisone response) but 6 is a lot to swallow…. Why can’t they manufacture prednisolone tablets in higher doses for Gods sake!!
I ruminated on this for a while - giving the fridge another swift kicking…..
Dh came home from the school run- he tossed the newspaper in my direction, and I caught it - great! I love the newspaper!!
Dh (after last night) was much relieved to see me avidly scanning the paper - some sort of testament to a new and improved concentration, instead of my paint-wielding ‘fly‘ like appearance, chuntering away, and glued to the walls.
I love ‘The Guardian’ and always start with the G2 bit - yet to my frustration, I quickly realised that ‘scanning’ it, was indeed the operative word - words and lines jumped out at me - yet I couldn’t follow the text.
Words caught my attention, yet on perusing the text, it all became a meaningless jumble - I was startled and disconcerted - I shook my head in bewilderment, blinked repeatedly, and tried again harder - surely if I could just focus and concentrate on the text, it would all start to come together?
I felt my sense of self unravel, as it became clear it wasn’t going to happen - my mind was skipping from word to word, like a frisky lamb in springtime - none of it made any kind of sense - the harder I tried to take it on board, the more confused I became - I felt panicky - yeah! I had woken that morning feeling low, subdued, and giving the fridge a well-deserved beating - but not being able to distract myself with the paper, was a foreign, and unnerving experience - I flung it on the floor with frustration, gave the fridge another kick, and went to have a lie down.
I stared at the ceiling, feeling cut adrift, and somehow alone..
I went to see my psychotherapist that afternoon - due to moving house, I hadn’t seen her for a week or two..
Settled onto the couch, still wheezing slightly, I began to unload the litany of woes familiar to all those moving house with small children - and then I got stuck.
It felt like a boulder on my chest. I wanted to talk about how things ‘weren’t right’ - my panic, the sullen fridge, the neighbours , my inability to read etc
Luckily, she is quite perceptive, and gave me space, and the right kind of space, to allow me to begin to explore it.. which I did. I started to cry, as I was so frightened… God was I frightened - it felt like being in a foreign land, where I couldn’t begin to understand and communicate..
In turn, she was quite concerned - we had this agreement going - many psychotherapists don’t take on psychotics or ex-psychotics, for various reasons, but we had a deal, that if she thought I was going psychotic, she would intervene on my behalf..
We talked about me accessing mental health services
On one hand, I knew things ‘weren’t right’ I was very scared - but equally, what the fuck was I going to tell mental health? I didn’t want to end up back on anti-psychotics either - I just didn’t want to do the whole field trip again, for something I couldn’t even begin to explain adequately - not even to myself , let alone a series of well meaning others.
I was also ‘off the books’ as far as the mental health team was concerned (and quite rightly - have been well for two years) even accessing mental health would prove problematic
- from past experience, I knew I would have to go via GP receptionist, GP, duty worker, own consultant etc etc. the thought of having to tell them what was going on, when I was clueless but distressed myself, made me shiver.
Unfortunately, accessing mental health services, can be an ordeal, that would tax the ‘mentally well’, and perhaps propel THEM into breakdown mode…..
My psychotherapist offered to do it on my behalf - I refused - “yes I’m frightened, my neighbours don’t like me, the fridge is being deliberately obtuse, and I can’t stop painting - What the FUCK!!”
No thanks…
I came home - I felt somewhat better for ‘offloading’ but as I arrived home, I felt what was to become the familiar ‘prednisolone surge’ - a feeling, some 6 hours after taking it - of mind sharpening, mood enhancing agitation, that escalated me into hyperactivity… I went to kick the fridge…..
Dh was quite concerned as to how the visit had gone -I remarked vaguely, that the psychotherapist was quite keen for me to seek help from the mental health team - but that I wasn’t - or rather, that I would ‘wait and see’ - I SO didn’t want to have to go back there - I really didn’t!
Had it been a case of ringing one number, of the consultant that I trust (Dr Burnett), and pitching up, I would have done.. But my experience of mental health so far, is that of a series of hurdles jumps, meetings with well-meaning but fundamentally clueless, health professionals - I mean - for Fucks sake - the thing that you need at a time like this, is ONE person who knows you ( am not consistently ill enough to need a key worker) yet you end up having to be distressed and incoherent in front of countless others too!
Dh hummed and hawed, and agreed to see how things went - he believes it is due to the steroids, and I only have a five day course - I agree - I don’t want to have to access mental health, when chances are, I will be fine by Monday!! And, of course, it will all go in my notes, making subsequent employment much more difficult….
So I went to paint - and paint- and paint….
Children came home from school/pre-school - I broke off long enough (I was waiting for polyfilla to dry) to make tea, exhort ds1 to do homework, play endless games of ‘animal snap’ with ds2 - I was flying - the children unfortunately weren’t moving quite ‘fast enough’ for me, so I encouraged, cajoled, and raved them on, to greater heights - then I went to paint!!
The neighbours were a source of concern though - they were giving me ‘funny looks’ ( The ‘evuls’ I guess!) I kept my head down….. And the fecking fridge…
The fridge was still triumphantly announcing it was ‘too warm’ despite the polar ice cap conditions.
I spent age staring at it in concern- maybe we could reach a truce, if I somehow fiddled with it enough - it can’t have enjoyed being kicked so much.
Maybe - it was some kind of warning - it was clearly cold enough - by now - EVERYTHING was frozen - and not just my mushrooms - so the warning couldn’t be about temperature - there must be something hidden in its meaning… I went to paint, and to ruminate.
I had a moment of supreme clarity, standing on the chair, with paint roller in hand, where it all became clear - the fridge was WARNING me, my brain worked over-time, as I started to figure out why - It all came back to the neighbours of course.
We had moved house, and it was warning me about the neighbours - I could never hope to fit in - I wasn’t ‘clean’ enough - the neighbours - could it be true?- were stepford wives, and the fridge was warning me that they knew how slovenly I was, and how I sometimes shouted like a fish-wife at the children - It was a WARNING!
I went back down to the fridge, and gazed at it reverentially..
“TOO WARM!” It declared, urgently.. The contents of the fridge, remained immobile, solid, and coated in ice
It all made sense - yet what could I do to deal with it - this was outside of my experience. I had another frisson of panic.
I told dh about the fridge - he reassured me that the digital display panel was indeed ‘fucked’ (in technical terms)
I nodded absently - how could I expect him to understand - poor bloke - he had no idea what was going on - I avoided further discussion of my thoughts, in case the room was bugged by the neighbours -AKA step ford wives..
I grew more and more agitated, whilst I tried to work things out - I paced between the fridge, and the paint-roller. It struck me that I needed to talk to someone in confidence, someone out of the estate, who had the power to investigate - The Police!!
At 11pm - I walked into the kitchen, and wrenched the digital display off the shelf, combining both brute force and ignorance. The frozen contents regarded me silently…
Then, I announced to dh, that I was going for a walk, to clear my mind. I was dressed in my jimjams bottoms and paint spattered sweatshirt - before dh had chance to protest, I was out of the door.
My mobile phone rang incessantly - it was dh - but I didn’t answer - I love him dearly, but he had no clue as to what needed to be done…
I walked 3 miles, in my jimjams and painty sweatshirt, to the nearest police station, clutching part of the fridge..
It was a very cold and starry night, but I walked briskly - I started to wheeze halfway there, but had had the foresight to bring my inhalers.
Eventually, I reached the police station. I admired the bright lights and activity evident inside - THEY would help me - I started to calm - it would all be over soon, and things could get underway - I had worked out the problem - I just needed confirmation, and action…..
I approached the desk - the waiting room was empty..
“Can I help?” said the desk sergeant politely..
“I think indeed you can!” I said conspiratorily - and plonked part of the fridge unceremoniously on the counter.
She picked it up, examined it closely “TOO WARM” It warned - she awaited further clarification..
So I told her about the neighbours, the stepford wives, and the messages from the fridge etc
Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of complete dismay and astonishment.
Undeterred, I carried on - this might sound incredulous to her, and she might need some convincing…
When I ran out of steam, she asked me if I lived on my own - I explained about dh - she asked if he knew I was out - well not exactly I explained - then she asked me for my phone number - and she CALLED him - to say they were going to bring me home!!
I was SO fucked off!! I couldn’t believe it!! I announced I was going out for a fag, and she shot after me, announcing she would come out with me..
I sullenly offered her a fag, which she declined, and I felt peversely glad. I smoked angrily - I was SOOO fucked off.
She was lovely though, and clearly wasn’t going to leave me unattended - we even made small talk, and laughed a lot, unbelievably - she was just a lovely person.
After 30 mins or so (I took pity on her, and went escorted indoors where it was warmer) the police car was ready to take me home.
The escort didn’t get much of a handover, and en route, they asked me why I had been arrested….
I indignantly pointed out, that I hadn’t been arrested, and that it was my neighbours that needed arresting, for being stepford wives, and for perverting my fridge…
They exchanged significant glances across the front of the car…
We got to our house - the police woman remarked “Gosh - its big! What a lovely house! Is this your home!”
Now I know I was in jimjams etc, and was rather dishevelled, but I didn’t know whether to be pleased, or affronted..
Dh opened the door, and escorted me inside - the policeman silently handed him the part of the fridge - Dh obligingly took it, but once we were inside, he flung it viciously into the bin..
And so we went to bed….
I awoke,, after around an hours fractured sleep, beset by disturbing dreams
- Dh was off today - cos of his long long days as a GP, he has a day off mid-week, on Thursdays, to regulate his hours - Dh is such a sweetheart, and took the kids to school, and pre-school accordingly..
Chest is definitely improving - still a little wheezy, but no acute attacks etc…
I felt a little low, and somewhat ‘frozen’ - what the fuck was going on?
I felt sooo good yesterday, and now I felt uneasy, unnerved, and somewhat immobile - I went to make myself cheese on toast - when retrieving the cheese from the fridge (‘too warm’!) things boiled over, and I gave the fridge a furious solid hate-filled kicking, in frustration and dismay- I HATE this fucking fridge - it seemed to symbolise my life in some ways - too warm, always off kilter, and out of synch.
I reached for the steroids (have to be taken early morning to mimic the natural cortisone response) but 6 is a lot to swallow…. Why can’t they manufacture prednisolone tablets in higher doses for Gods sake!!
I ruminated on this for a while - giving the fridge another swift kicking…..
Dh came home from the school run- he tossed the newspaper in my direction, and I caught it - great! I love the newspaper!!
Dh (after last night) was much relieved to see me avidly scanning the paper - some sort of testament to a new and improved concentration, instead of my paint-wielding ‘fly‘ like appearance, chuntering away, and glued to the walls.
I love ‘The Guardian’ and always start with the G2 bit - yet to my frustration, I quickly realised that ‘scanning’ it, was indeed the operative word - words and lines jumped out at me - yet I couldn’t follow the text.
Words caught my attention, yet on perusing the text, it all became a meaningless jumble - I was startled and disconcerted - I shook my head in bewilderment, blinked repeatedly, and tried again harder - surely if I could just focus and concentrate on the text, it would all start to come together?
I felt my sense of self unravel, as it became clear it wasn’t going to happen - my mind was skipping from word to word, like a frisky lamb in springtime - none of it made any kind of sense - the harder I tried to take it on board, the more confused I became - I felt panicky - yeah! I had woken that morning feeling low, subdued, and giving the fridge a well-deserved beating - but not being able to distract myself with the paper, was a foreign, and unnerving experience - I flung it on the floor with frustration, gave the fridge another kick, and went to have a lie down.
I stared at the ceiling, feeling cut adrift, and somehow alone..
I went to see my psychotherapist that afternoon - due to moving house, I hadn’t seen her for a week or two..
Settled onto the couch, still wheezing slightly, I began to unload the litany of woes familiar to all those moving house with small children - and then I got stuck.
It felt like a boulder on my chest. I wanted to talk about how things ‘weren’t right’ - my panic, the sullen fridge, the neighbours , my inability to read etc
Luckily, she is quite perceptive, and gave me space, and the right kind of space, to allow me to begin to explore it.. which I did. I started to cry, as I was so frightened… God was I frightened - it felt like being in a foreign land, where I couldn’t begin to understand and communicate..
In turn, she was quite concerned - we had this agreement going - many psychotherapists don’t take on psychotics or ex-psychotics, for various reasons, but we had a deal, that if she thought I was going psychotic, she would intervene on my behalf..
We talked about me accessing mental health services
On one hand, I knew things ‘weren’t right’ I was very scared - but equally, what the fuck was I going to tell mental health? I didn’t want to end up back on anti-psychotics either - I just didn’t want to do the whole field trip again, for something I couldn’t even begin to explain adequately - not even to myself , let alone a series of well meaning others.
I was also ‘off the books’ as far as the mental health team was concerned (and quite rightly - have been well for two years) even accessing mental health would prove problematic
- from past experience, I knew I would have to go via GP receptionist, GP, duty worker, own consultant etc etc. the thought of having to tell them what was going on, when I was clueless but distressed myself, made me shiver.
Unfortunately, accessing mental health services, can be an ordeal, that would tax the ‘mentally well’, and perhaps propel THEM into breakdown mode…..
My psychotherapist offered to do it on my behalf - I refused - “yes I’m frightened, my neighbours don’t like me, the fridge is being deliberately obtuse, and I can’t stop painting - What the FUCK!!”
No thanks…
I came home - I felt somewhat better for ‘offloading’ but as I arrived home, I felt what was to become the familiar ‘prednisolone surge’ - a feeling, some 6 hours after taking it - of mind sharpening, mood enhancing agitation, that escalated me into hyperactivity… I went to kick the fridge…..
Dh was quite concerned as to how the visit had gone -I remarked vaguely, that the psychotherapist was quite keen for me to seek help from the mental health team - but that I wasn’t - or rather, that I would ‘wait and see’ - I SO didn’t want to have to go back there - I really didn’t!
Had it been a case of ringing one number, of the consultant that I trust (Dr Burnett), and pitching up, I would have done.. But my experience of mental health so far, is that of a series of hurdles jumps, meetings with well-meaning but fundamentally clueless, health professionals - I mean - for Fucks sake - the thing that you need at a time like this, is ONE person who knows you ( am not consistently ill enough to need a key worker) yet you end up having to be distressed and incoherent in front of countless others too!
Dh hummed and hawed, and agreed to see how things went - he believes it is due to the steroids, and I only have a five day course - I agree - I don’t want to have to access mental health, when chances are, I will be fine by Monday!! And, of course, it will all go in my notes, making subsequent employment much more difficult….
So I went to paint - and paint- and paint….
Children came home from school/pre-school - I broke off long enough (I was waiting for polyfilla to dry) to make tea, exhort ds1 to do homework, play endless games of ‘animal snap’ with ds2 - I was flying - the children unfortunately weren’t moving quite ‘fast enough’ for me, so I encouraged, cajoled, and raved them on, to greater heights - then I went to paint!!
The neighbours were a source of concern though - they were giving me ‘funny looks’ ( The ‘evuls’ I guess!) I kept my head down….. And the fecking fridge…
The fridge was still triumphantly announcing it was ‘too warm’ despite the polar ice cap conditions.
I spent age staring at it in concern- maybe we could reach a truce, if I somehow fiddled with it enough - it can’t have enjoyed being kicked so much.
Maybe - it was some kind of warning - it was clearly cold enough - by now - EVERYTHING was frozen - and not just my mushrooms - so the warning couldn’t be about temperature - there must be something hidden in its meaning… I went to paint, and to ruminate.
I had a moment of supreme clarity, standing on the chair, with paint roller in hand, where it all became clear - the fridge was WARNING me, my brain worked over-time, as I started to figure out why - It all came back to the neighbours of course.
We had moved house, and it was warning me about the neighbours - I could never hope to fit in - I wasn’t ‘clean’ enough - the neighbours - could it be true?- were stepford wives, and the fridge was warning me that they knew how slovenly I was, and how I sometimes shouted like a fish-wife at the children - It was a WARNING!
I went back down to the fridge, and gazed at it reverentially..
“TOO WARM!” It declared, urgently.. The contents of the fridge, remained immobile, solid, and coated in ice
It all made sense - yet what could I do to deal with it - this was outside of my experience. I had another frisson of panic.
I told dh about the fridge - he reassured me that the digital display panel was indeed ‘fucked’ (in technical terms)
I nodded absently - how could I expect him to understand - poor bloke - he had no idea what was going on - I avoided further discussion of my thoughts, in case the room was bugged by the neighbours -AKA step ford wives..
I grew more and more agitated, whilst I tried to work things out - I paced between the fridge, and the paint-roller. It struck me that I needed to talk to someone in confidence, someone out of the estate, who had the power to investigate - The Police!!
At 11pm - I walked into the kitchen, and wrenched the digital display off the shelf, combining both brute force and ignorance. The frozen contents regarded me silently…
Then, I announced to dh, that I was going for a walk, to clear my mind. I was dressed in my jimjams bottoms and paint spattered sweatshirt - before dh had chance to protest, I was out of the door.
My mobile phone rang incessantly - it was dh - but I didn’t answer - I love him dearly, but he had no clue as to what needed to be done…
I walked 3 miles, in my jimjams and painty sweatshirt, to the nearest police station, clutching part of the fridge..
It was a very cold and starry night, but I walked briskly - I started to wheeze halfway there, but had had the foresight to bring my inhalers.
Eventually, I reached the police station. I admired the bright lights and activity evident inside - THEY would help me - I started to calm - it would all be over soon, and things could get underway - I had worked out the problem - I just needed confirmation, and action…..
I approached the desk - the waiting room was empty..
“Can I help?” said the desk sergeant politely..
“I think indeed you can!” I said conspiratorily - and plonked part of the fridge unceremoniously on the counter.
She picked it up, examined it closely “TOO WARM” It warned - she awaited further clarification..
So I told her about the neighbours, the stepford wives, and the messages from the fridge etc
Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of complete dismay and astonishment.
Undeterred, I carried on - this might sound incredulous to her, and she might need some convincing…
When I ran out of steam, she asked me if I lived on my own - I explained about dh - she asked if he knew I was out - well not exactly I explained - then she asked me for my phone number - and she CALLED him - to say they were going to bring me home!!
I was SO fucked off!! I couldn’t believe it!! I announced I was going out for a fag, and she shot after me, announcing she would come out with me..
I sullenly offered her a fag, which she declined, and I felt peversely glad. I smoked angrily - I was SOOO fucked off.
She was lovely though, and clearly wasn’t going to leave me unattended - we even made small talk, and laughed a lot, unbelievably - she was just a lovely person.
After 30 mins or so (I took pity on her, and went escorted indoors where it was warmer) the police car was ready to take me home.
The escort didn’t get much of a handover, and en route, they asked me why I had been arrested….
I indignantly pointed out, that I hadn’t been arrested, and that it was my neighbours that needed arresting, for being stepford wives, and for perverting my fridge…
They exchanged significant glances across the front of the car…
We got to our house - the police woman remarked “Gosh - its big! What a lovely house! Is this your home!”
Now I know I was in jimjams etc, and was rather dishevelled, but I didn’t know whether to be pleased, or affronted..
Dh opened the door, and escorted me inside - the policeman silently handed him the part of the fridge - Dh obligingly took it, but once we were inside, he flung it viciously into the bin..
And so we went to bed….
Weds 1st November
Weds 1st November
Woke up at 3am, completely unable to breath! I could breath ‘in’ in a fashion, but my chest was so tight, it was like trying to breathe out, through a chewed up straw.. Not too bad, the first few times that you do it, but starts to get a bit claustrophobic, after around 3 breathes or so..
I tried to quell the panic, and sit myself upright. This helped in terms of positioning, but the extra effort and increased oxygen requirements in doing so, made me gasp even more - I reached for the ventolin inhaler, but couldn’t breath out enough, for the ‘in’ breath, to have much effect..
I started to realise how frightened ds1 must feel, when he has a bad attack…
I sat it out, but after 20 mins, it was apparent that I was too short of breath for the powder in the inhaler to actually reach my lungs - I could feel all the muscles working in my throat , chest and ribs, trying to get adequate oxygen..
I flayed my hand on dh desperately - he grunted - I whacked him again - hard - he ‘semi’ woke up..
“Ian……….can’t………….breeeeath“……….. I gasped..
He went “hunggggh??” peered at me, quickly got a grip on what was happening, and ran to the car, clad only in boxer shorts..
In the back of his car, was a nebulizer set, complete with O2 mask, and ventolin, for his patients. He descended on me, strapped me up, and plugged me in. It sounded rather like being on a rather noisy aircraft, and dh regarded me gravely. Some of the nebuliser got down there, and I soon started to settle - the relief.- Was fantastic - I will never ever take breathing for granted again!
We discussed going to hospital, but although I was still ‘wheezy’ I could breathe, and we had the nebulizer, so decided to see how things went, and agreed I would see my own GP later this morning, for possible steroids and anti-biotics…
8 am. Still wheezy, but not struggling for breath- took ds1 to school, but made the unprecendented step of just hurling him out of the car at the school gates, to make his own way in, (rather like a ram-raider, but in reverse!) instead of walking him into the playground, and making ‘small talk’ - he was cool about it!! And was quite pleased!
Dropped ds2 off at pre-school..
Came home - made an appointment with a GP for that morning..
Receptionist was very sweet - she had to ask me if it was urgent..
“yes….it……is…..” I wheezed!
“Fine!! that’s fine!! Come in at 11.30!”
I had to organize for someone to pick up ds2 from pre-school, and drove to the Dr’s.
The surgery was upstairs - I felt very elderly, as I wheezed, and paused for breath on the way up.. By the time I saw the GP - I couldn’t string a sentence together - she frowned unnervingly, wielded her stethescope, did a peak flow, and announced my lung function was very poor….
She put me on oral steroids, and oral antibiotics, and told me to continue with the nebulisers. The basic message was that I could be relied upon to be sent home safely, cos Dh is a GP, I am a nurse, so if things got any worse, I could be relied upon to go straight to A&E - I was pleased at that!
Got prescription - took steroids (6 of ‘em!) and went home to sleep..
Picked up children from school/friends etc… made tea - usual stuff..
But that evening, I just couldn’t settle - chest was feeling somewhat better, but I had a sense of urgency - Dh came home from work, and I talked his ears off - I was clinging to the study -room wall, like a fly caught in fly paper, wielding a loaded paintbrush - but I couldn’t stop - from the safety of the ladder, I also phoned my friend - when her ears started to bleed, some 30 minutes later - she asked me cautiously, if I was OK.. “Of course!!” I boomed “ Never felt better!”
Which I hadn‘t! - I could breathe - I had a new house to decorate - I felt on top of the world, and somewhat euphoric - The world was mine - and I wanted everyone to know about it..
The only fly in the ointment, was the fridge - its truculent, sullen failure to recognise it was indeed actually cold, really upset me, and as the evening went on, every time I passed it, to wash out paint-brushes etc, I gave it a series of harder and harder swift kicks. It really upset me - it made me feel very uneasy - why wasn’t it ‘happy?’ what was I doing so wrong? Did it not like me
It felt like it was trying to bring me down, in a BIG way - there was I, on top of the world, getting on with things, and able to breathe - yet every time I passed it, I felt an enormous surge of anxiety and ill ease - it wasn’t ‘right’ and I didn’t want to ‘catch its‘ discontentment and unhappiness, or have to deal with it, so I kicked it harder and harder…
.
At 1am, Dh wearily approached me, and asked if I was indeed to be glued to the wall forever, and next time they gave me steroids, could they please give me a mood stabiliser too!
I managed to unglue myself, and take myself to bed, where I lay alongside dh, who was gently snoring -
In contrast, my mind whirled, soared, and climbed new heights, as yet unobtained, like a free bird, I made plans, strategies, I was going to extend into the garage, and my masters dissertation could prove the basis for changing the whole direction of health psychology research
- I felt invincible, and omni-potent - I had never ever felt so good, powerful, and yet benevolent!
I got up once or twice to stare at the walls and think - even the walls seemed to encourage my thoughts and plans and it felt important to face them..
But - I was troubled by the fridge, and its intransigence - what did it mean - ‘too warm’ - my fecking mushrooms were frozen solid! It clearly wasn’t too warm - everything else was going swimmingly - yet the fridge was out of step somehow…
When I had been finishing painting Ds1’s bedroom that afternoon, before it got dark, I saw the next-door neighbours in the garden - the children were playing outside - the mother came out and called them in - I felt quite uneasy, like she had seen me, and called her children in as a result.
It also worried me, that the fridge belonged to the old neighbours, who were popular in the neighbourhood, yet on our arrival, it was making some sort of protest, or stand, against our move in - and the neighbours also didn’t seem that keen too - not if they were calling in their children - maybe they didn’t ‘approve’ of us..
I knew it was a slightly different ‘neighbourhood’ - more middle-class - than we had ever been in before - yet without some of the self-containment, that some such neighbourhoods engender… and I brooded, that they might not think us ‘suitable’
Went to bed, to brood…….
Woke up at 3am, completely unable to breath! I could breath ‘in’ in a fashion, but my chest was so tight, it was like trying to breathe out, through a chewed up straw.. Not too bad, the first few times that you do it, but starts to get a bit claustrophobic, after around 3 breathes or so..
I tried to quell the panic, and sit myself upright. This helped in terms of positioning, but the extra effort and increased oxygen requirements in doing so, made me gasp even more - I reached for the ventolin inhaler, but couldn’t breath out enough, for the ‘in’ breath, to have much effect..
I started to realise how frightened ds1 must feel, when he has a bad attack…
I sat it out, but after 20 mins, it was apparent that I was too short of breath for the powder in the inhaler to actually reach my lungs - I could feel all the muscles working in my throat , chest and ribs, trying to get adequate oxygen..
I flayed my hand on dh desperately - he grunted - I whacked him again - hard - he ‘semi’ woke up..
“Ian……….can’t………….breeeeath“……….. I gasped..
He went “hunggggh??” peered at me, quickly got a grip on what was happening, and ran to the car, clad only in boxer shorts..
In the back of his car, was a nebulizer set, complete with O2 mask, and ventolin, for his patients. He descended on me, strapped me up, and plugged me in. It sounded rather like being on a rather noisy aircraft, and dh regarded me gravely. Some of the nebuliser got down there, and I soon started to settle - the relief.- Was fantastic - I will never ever take breathing for granted again!
We discussed going to hospital, but although I was still ‘wheezy’ I could breathe, and we had the nebulizer, so decided to see how things went, and agreed I would see my own GP later this morning, for possible steroids and anti-biotics…
8 am. Still wheezy, but not struggling for breath- took ds1 to school, but made the unprecendented step of just hurling him out of the car at the school gates, to make his own way in, (rather like a ram-raider, but in reverse!) instead of walking him into the playground, and making ‘small talk’ - he was cool about it!! And was quite pleased!
Dropped ds2 off at pre-school..
Came home - made an appointment with a GP for that morning..
Receptionist was very sweet - she had to ask me if it was urgent..
“yes….it……is…..” I wheezed!
“Fine!! that’s fine!! Come in at 11.30!”
I had to organize for someone to pick up ds2 from pre-school, and drove to the Dr’s.
The surgery was upstairs - I felt very elderly, as I wheezed, and paused for breath on the way up.. By the time I saw the GP - I couldn’t string a sentence together - she frowned unnervingly, wielded her stethescope, did a peak flow, and announced my lung function was very poor….
She put me on oral steroids, and oral antibiotics, and told me to continue with the nebulisers. The basic message was that I could be relied upon to be sent home safely, cos Dh is a GP, I am a nurse, so if things got any worse, I could be relied upon to go straight to A&E - I was pleased at that!
Got prescription - took steroids (6 of ‘em!) and went home to sleep..
Picked up children from school/friends etc… made tea - usual stuff..
But that evening, I just couldn’t settle - chest was feeling somewhat better, but I had a sense of urgency - Dh came home from work, and I talked his ears off - I was clinging to the study -room wall, like a fly caught in fly paper, wielding a loaded paintbrush - but I couldn’t stop - from the safety of the ladder, I also phoned my friend - when her ears started to bleed, some 30 minutes later - she asked me cautiously, if I was OK.. “Of course!!” I boomed “ Never felt better!”
Which I hadn‘t! - I could breathe - I had a new house to decorate - I felt on top of the world, and somewhat euphoric - The world was mine - and I wanted everyone to know about it..
The only fly in the ointment, was the fridge - its truculent, sullen failure to recognise it was indeed actually cold, really upset me, and as the evening went on, every time I passed it, to wash out paint-brushes etc, I gave it a series of harder and harder swift kicks. It really upset me - it made me feel very uneasy - why wasn’t it ‘happy?’ what was I doing so wrong? Did it not like me
It felt like it was trying to bring me down, in a BIG way - there was I, on top of the world, getting on with things, and able to breathe - yet every time I passed it, I felt an enormous surge of anxiety and ill ease - it wasn’t ‘right’ and I didn’t want to ‘catch its‘ discontentment and unhappiness, or have to deal with it, so I kicked it harder and harder…
.
At 1am, Dh wearily approached me, and asked if I was indeed to be glued to the wall forever, and next time they gave me steroids, could they please give me a mood stabiliser too!
I managed to unglue myself, and take myself to bed, where I lay alongside dh, who was gently snoring -
In contrast, my mind whirled, soared, and climbed new heights, as yet unobtained, like a free bird, I made plans, strategies, I was going to extend into the garage, and my masters dissertation could prove the basis for changing the whole direction of health psychology research
- I felt invincible, and omni-potent - I had never ever felt so good, powerful, and yet benevolent!
I got up once or twice to stare at the walls and think - even the walls seemed to encourage my thoughts and plans and it felt important to face them..
But - I was troubled by the fridge, and its intransigence - what did it mean - ‘too warm’ - my fecking mushrooms were frozen solid! It clearly wasn’t too warm - everything else was going swimmingly - yet the fridge was out of step somehow…
When I had been finishing painting Ds1’s bedroom that afternoon, before it got dark, I saw the next-door neighbours in the garden - the children were playing outside - the mother came out and called them in - I felt quite uneasy, like she had seen me, and called her children in as a result.
It also worried me, that the fridge belonged to the old neighbours, who were popular in the neighbourhood, yet on our arrival, it was making some sort of protest, or stand, against our move in - and the neighbours also didn’t seem that keen too - not if they were calling in their children - maybe they didn’t ‘approve’ of us..
I knew it was a slightly different ‘neighbourhood’ - more middle-class - than we had ever been in before - yet without some of the self-containment, that some such neighbourhoods engender… and I brooded, that they might not think us ‘suitable’
Went to bed, to brood…….
Tues 31st October
It’s been 4 days since we moved house!!
Its been a strange day - dh is now back at work - the fiends are back at school and pre-school!
We moved during half term week, which resulted in two excited children racing around, and building Lego towers, under the feet of the removal men - who were quite gruff, but understanding - even when Ds2 tried to wrestle some ‘toys to be packed’ off him!
The move itself, went very smoothly, as far as these things do. It was the culmination of a long conveyancing saga. The peeps above and below us in the chain, have been fantastic - patient, understanding, and non-hassling..
We sold and bought in June,. Yet it took till October to actually move! The whole year (for me) has been very very stressful.
There has been an odd kind of limbo - I started to get ready for the house going on the market in January, by renovating the studio, plastering, helping to lay floors etc, whilst pretending to entertain the children, write my dissertation for my Masters degree, and try to hang onto some sanity, by keeping up with horse riding and Tae-Kwon -Do …..
As well as the usual fall-out from school and pre-school attendance (ds1 getting to referred to child development for assessment into dyspraxia) baking endless cakes, buying extra plimsolls, and replacing snapped violin strings - and the word ‘chauffeur’ - doesn’t even begin to come into it - as I ferry them about from activity to activity….
Because Ian works such long hours at work - I was in charge of renovations, getting house valued, choosing estate agents, arranging house viewings for both us, and any prospective new house we are considering… (ds2 took exception to a prospective valuing estate agent, and threw a piece of Lego at his head, calling him a poo-head) needless to say, we didn’t use them…
The house viewings on our part went fairly OK - It took two weeks to sell it. Had it taken any longer, I swear I would have climbed the walls - it was completely horrendous! With two small children, at the end of a day with them, I am pathetically grateful, if the house is still actually standing, let alone ‘tidy’ to any degree - and its such a small cottage - there is nowhere to ‘hide’ stuff, in a fit of minimalism..
I soon got into a routine..
I needed two hours notice, re a house viewing - on receiving notice, I would call in favours, and dispense the children to various friends, babysitters etc, then blitz the house - I tried to keep on top of it in the meantime, which entailed shrieking at children etc etc
House viewing on our part was much less stressful - we liked the second house we saw - and put an offer in - this brought me to the stress of estate agents (namely theirs) trying to take the piss, the surveys, and the whole negotiations thing, regarding their windows falling out etc - then we thought it was all going to fall through - turned out that our case handler at the conveyancers had left, so nothing was happening whilst our case was being reallocated - I had major kittens, and dh soothed me like he would a frightened horse “ We’ll still have a roof over our heads” he told me…
Aaaaanyway - suffice to say - it was a huge stress - I set such stock by moving house - our two up/two down cottage - although tres charming - was like an overcrowded prison cell at weekends, When we were all home - the boys who shared a bedroom, fought constantly, we were all falling over each other, and it really depressed me…
Sooo - 4 days ago, we moved to a house twice as large - neighbours seem lovely!! Laminate flooring makes the boys look like ‘bambi on ice!’ In four days, I have painted ds2’s bedroom, assembled three beds, painted ds1’s bedroom, as well as unpacking, looking after children, baking a cake for the cake sale at pre-school etc.
It’s also been Halloween, so dashed out to buy things, searched the garage for Halloween costumes, and sent them out with the neighbours ‘trick or treating’…
The fridge is pissing me off somewhat - the old owners left their fridge, washing machine and dishwasher - the latter two are great!! But the fridge is giving me problems - It has a digital display attached to the shelf - it keeps informing me it is ‘too warm’ … I fiddle with the temp control uselessly - it gets colder, my mushrooms are frozen solid though, despite it bleating it is ‘too warm’ - I can’t work it out….
Tonight, we watched the ‘Stepford wives’ on DVD (the old version) I am entranced, yet somewhat disturbed… when Ian goes to bed, I worked my way through the extra material supplied by the makers, then go to bed..
I am at the end of a streaming cold at the moment, and its gone to my chest. I notice that when I lie down, I am struggling to breathe. This had been increasing over the last few days, and am sure its not helped by sanding window sills, applying sealant, varnish, and paint to walls.. I am allegedly ‘mildly asthmatic’ but rarely have a proper attack - I can go for months, without a single wheeze, but sometimes get wheezy at the end of a cold…
I take my ‘wheezies’ to bed…….
It’s been 4 days since we moved house!!
Its been a strange day - dh is now back at work - the fiends are back at school and pre-school!
We moved during half term week, which resulted in two excited children racing around, and building Lego towers, under the feet of the removal men - who were quite gruff, but understanding - even when Ds2 tried to wrestle some ‘toys to be packed’ off him!
The move itself, went very smoothly, as far as these things do. It was the culmination of a long conveyancing saga. The peeps above and below us in the chain, have been fantastic - patient, understanding, and non-hassling..
We sold and bought in June,. Yet it took till October to actually move! The whole year (for me) has been very very stressful.
There has been an odd kind of limbo - I started to get ready for the house going on the market in January, by renovating the studio, plastering, helping to lay floors etc, whilst pretending to entertain the children, write my dissertation for my Masters degree, and try to hang onto some sanity, by keeping up with horse riding and Tae-Kwon -Do …..
As well as the usual fall-out from school and pre-school attendance (ds1 getting to referred to child development for assessment into dyspraxia) baking endless cakes, buying extra plimsolls, and replacing snapped violin strings - and the word ‘chauffeur’ - doesn’t even begin to come into it - as I ferry them about from activity to activity….
Because Ian works such long hours at work - I was in charge of renovations, getting house valued, choosing estate agents, arranging house viewings for both us, and any prospective new house we are considering… (ds2 took exception to a prospective valuing estate agent, and threw a piece of Lego at his head, calling him a poo-head) needless to say, we didn’t use them…
The house viewings on our part went fairly OK - It took two weeks to sell it. Had it taken any longer, I swear I would have climbed the walls - it was completely horrendous! With two small children, at the end of a day with them, I am pathetically grateful, if the house is still actually standing, let alone ‘tidy’ to any degree - and its such a small cottage - there is nowhere to ‘hide’ stuff, in a fit of minimalism..
I soon got into a routine..
I needed two hours notice, re a house viewing - on receiving notice, I would call in favours, and dispense the children to various friends, babysitters etc, then blitz the house - I tried to keep on top of it in the meantime, which entailed shrieking at children etc etc
House viewing on our part was much less stressful - we liked the second house we saw - and put an offer in - this brought me to the stress of estate agents (namely theirs) trying to take the piss, the surveys, and the whole negotiations thing, regarding their windows falling out etc - then we thought it was all going to fall through - turned out that our case handler at the conveyancers had left, so nothing was happening whilst our case was being reallocated - I had major kittens, and dh soothed me like he would a frightened horse “ We’ll still have a roof over our heads” he told me…
Aaaaanyway - suffice to say - it was a huge stress - I set such stock by moving house - our two up/two down cottage - although tres charming - was like an overcrowded prison cell at weekends, When we were all home - the boys who shared a bedroom, fought constantly, we were all falling over each other, and it really depressed me…
Sooo - 4 days ago, we moved to a house twice as large - neighbours seem lovely!! Laminate flooring makes the boys look like ‘bambi on ice!’ In four days, I have painted ds2’s bedroom, assembled three beds, painted ds1’s bedroom, as well as unpacking, looking after children, baking a cake for the cake sale at pre-school etc.
It’s also been Halloween, so dashed out to buy things, searched the garage for Halloween costumes, and sent them out with the neighbours ‘trick or treating’…
The fridge is pissing me off somewhat - the old owners left their fridge, washing machine and dishwasher - the latter two are great!! But the fridge is giving me problems - It has a digital display attached to the shelf - it keeps informing me it is ‘too warm’ … I fiddle with the temp control uselessly - it gets colder, my mushrooms are frozen solid though, despite it bleating it is ‘too warm’ - I can’t work it out….
Tonight, we watched the ‘Stepford wives’ on DVD (the old version) I am entranced, yet somewhat disturbed… when Ian goes to bed, I worked my way through the extra material supplied by the makers, then go to bed..
I am at the end of a streaming cold at the moment, and its gone to my chest. I notice that when I lie down, I am struggling to breathe. This had been increasing over the last few days, and am sure its not helped by sanding window sills, applying sealant, varnish, and paint to walls.. I am allegedly ‘mildly asthmatic’ but rarely have a proper attack - I can go for months, without a single wheeze, but sometimes get wheezy at the end of a cold…
I take my ‘wheezies’ to bed…….
Psychosis unlimited
This is kind of an exercise in 'closure' I guess, and chronicles my recent stay in hospital with psychosis - tis quite long winded, but therapeutic for myself, and may hopefully serve to raise the profile of mental illness.....
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