A Hundred Tabs;

open, like a metaphor of my life.

Hello, wise, old friend. Or just one of those, if you prefer. I’m currently enjoying a few refreshments. Couple of glasses of red, Pinot Noir, and a Freedom beer and I fancied writing. This is where I find you. I want to write something profound and I sometimes think about a topic I could lose myself in. This isn’t going to be profound, although, I dare say, with a few drinks it very well could be..

I’m happy to say that I’m busy, like spinning plates kind of busy. What I find interesting though is that the old me is still there, somewhat concealed. What invokes the youthful version of myself is alcohol and music that I listened to in the past. Now, I work…everyday week day. Like normal people. I appreciate the judgment that that may bring. I’ve always worked, through three pregnancies and with toddlers. After Aliss I worked only one day for the most part. Before then I barely worked in the conventional sense. I had my little, teeny jewellery business. Something I’ll always be proud of and skills that I’ll have until my body fails me. I put everything into making jewellery. I’m taking the biggest break but I will go back to it some day. The most prominent reason is health; it’s not healthy to make jewellery in your home. I think my point is, I’ve grown up and I’m too busy.

I’ve been thinking about writing about my job for a while. I don’t think I have yet. It’s payday today and as usual I’ve smashed through a good portion of my wage. I’ve always been this way. A little reckless. If I lived alone I would probably be a reclusive, batshit artist. If you could go as far as to use artist. I’d be making endless things for joy and also in hope to make money. That’s who I am. I design and make so many things. I have since I was barely an adult. It probably started with making soap in another life. I won’t bore you too much on that topic. I make things, I buy things to make things, I obsess.

I had a song on whilst in the kitchen. Headphones in. I find both peace and hell in music at times. I went way back. A song called Comfort Betrays. The worst part of me swam in that song, as I swam in sorrow, loneliness and whatever alcohol I could get. “You sat and watched as I nearly destroyed myself. Never have I felt so betrayed that you would sacrifice my life for no more than your comfort.”. I threw my life around like a ragdoll. Now that I’m older I understand why I was so lost like that. I feel empathy for the person that I was. I still am that person, to some extent, deep down. Our childhoods, lives and experiences shape us. That is the most fleeting explanation. I simultaneously found too much hope and fear in those closest to me. Also, a fleeting explanation. A mocking of elaboration. I hope my three daughters don’t ever feel the way that I did.

Recently, we celebrated my brother’s life over beers. Myself, Nick, Marc and Alex. I always have the plan to be in ‘Spoons, Rugeley for either his Birthday or his anniversary. It has been 5 years. It hit me hard this year. I felt so emotional and my mood plummeted over the duration of the weeks around that date. It means a lot that they came out to meet me for beers and to remember him. Seeing the sadness in his friends makes it more difficult but my heart is there on those days so it feels devastating but also positive – somehow – to go. For his Birthday I sat in that Spoons alone, the plan to meet my family failed and I cried into my pint. No shame. It felt even more depressing than it was supposed to. On his 5th anniversary there was talk about celebrating his 40th. It sounds like a great time. I’m not going to drive the plan though, I’ll leave it be and see what happens.

I want to write about my new job, all the details of the past few months but I might save that for another day. I’ve got to go, more plates to spin.

I wanted to capture this moment; the moment between my life now and my life from many years ago. I find that notion interesting. 34 years doesn’t mean I’m not a mess deep down. It does mean, to an extent, that I can regulate my emotions better, thankfully.

New Job

Today, I had an interview for a role in the NHS. It was my fourth interview for the NHS. I was going to take a break and spend some time feeling bleak after this one.

This is the one that was the one. I defied the odds. I told people about this one, as I do and then… I missed the deadline! I was busy preparing for interview number 3 and I missed it. In fact, I didn’t even know when the deadline was. I cared about it but I was distracted. I’d told a few people that this job is ideal. I logged into Trac on the morning the application was supposed to be submitted and I saw that it had passed mere moments ago. Damn. I decided to do something a little out of character and a little outside the realms of normality. I emailed the lead interviewer (we had previous spoken as I mentioned in my previous post), I said I had intended to apply and is there any chance she could accept a late application if their protocol allowed for it? She basically said maybe and that I needed to speak to the recruitment department. I think I’ve written this out previously. Anyway, I called them and I got my application in. It’s not something you’d except to be able to do. I decided I had nothing to lose, they say no or they say yes and I possibly get an interview. I forgot about the “lateness” and decided it actually, ironically looks good. I missed a deadline but I’m fighting for it anyway.

A short while later I was shortlisted. Today, I went to the interview. I felt nervous even though this was the fourth interview. It started off slow, I felt shakey. My throat was dry. My answers weren’t strong and the nervousness was showing (I think). I vaguely thought this and thought I’m losing it. This is my chance. There were so many questions. I think there were 12 and some of them had various components to them. I lightened up and let go of robotic, interview me. I was just me. I’m quite goofy and jokey but I can also be sincere and show empathy. I got to show those sides of my personality for the first time in an interview. I had nods and smiles back and that helped me. This was the first interview that had friendly, smiling interviewers. They occasionally said something back, even if it was just thank you or that’s good or the nodding and smiling. It’s been such a formal process. I’ve had so many questions, I’ve done so much preparation. This was going to be my last one for a while. I started to feel like I was stuck in retail, something I had no interest in. Most of the people I liked at work have left including a person who had been there forever, that shocked me. I signed his card the Sunday before last and I hoped I was next to leave. I’ve enjoyed working there for the most part but I’m not passionate about it and I’m not proud of it. I know that another “lifer” intends to leave soon. So much has changed lately. There’s a new manager, new staff, a new cluster manager. No shade to the new people but I don’t enjoy working there as much.

This afternoon my phone rang, I had told myself they won’t choose you. She did the introducing herself thing and I asked her how she was. She asked back. Then she asked me how I thought the interview went. There was a pause. I said cautiously “I think it went okay, but you know when something is over and then you think I could have said this and I could have said that?” She said I had interviewed well. I thought this was a prelude for letting me down gently. I expected it to be followed with “but we chose….”. She started that way but instead of a but there was an “and”. “And we’d like to offer you the job”. I was stunned. I said “Really?” in a high pitched voice.

I accepted and I will be working for the NHS and climbing the ladder. I’m back in admin after quite the hiatus.

The Mind of an Eternally Deep-thinker

I added the title after I’d written this post and I realise what is to follow is underwhelming. It summarises the few points I’ve made here though and I’ve got other things I need to be getting on with.

Today, I went to the hospital to meet with the lead interviewer (LI). I saw the patients sat in the waiting area looking bleak. I spoke to the LI about the role, she told me what it entailed and what working in the department is like. I asked a few questions, the hours are perfect, 25 per week, 8.30-1.30. The pay won’t be great but it’s a start. The LI seemed nice, the reception area is small including the waiting room. It’s a very small area. The main part of the role is to book patients in for their treatment. I’m a little concerned that the job doesn’t require much responsibility. The role requires excellent interpersonal skills and I’m the warmest son-of-a-bitch so no worries there. I’m trained as a person-centred counsellor and I’m generally good at communicating with people. I don’t think about this often but over my adult life I’ve learned little nuisances in effective communication. I know how to tell people they’ve done something incorrectly without an accusing tone, I know how to make people feel at ease and how to get people to open up, I know how to distract people. I’m not at all saying I’m a mastermind or that I hold any power over anyone, it’s difficult to explain. I just pay attention and I choose my words carefully. I find communicating through writing interesting, whenever I’m composing an email or written message I chose my words carefully. On here, I tend to let go. I just write. It doesn’t need to be perfect because this is my space to vent. Anyway, I was introduced to the other receptionist who I will be working with if I get the job and she was nice. I think we had a moment. I also think I made a decent impression. They saw regular me instead of interview me. I much prefer regular me.

I also think in ways that go beyond what I see. So, for a while now I’ve been an online vigilante. I step into discussions where there’s an underdog of sorts and I offer my carefully composed thoughts. If there’s a sexist debate it will awaken the vigilante, if people are being transphobic or in any way prejudice I will often react. I’m also passionate about bullying, or rather, my stance against it. Last year, a woman posted a video on a local Facebook group of a woman seen on her door camera. She wanted to know who the woman was and what she was doing on her property. All matter-of-fact. The videod woman appeared harmless and it seemed like she was lacking in mental capacity to some degree. Maybe lost and vulnerable. Some of the commenters also thought so. I commented. I thought it was unfair to post videos and photos of a woman who seemed to be obliviously admiring flowers by the door. The woman didn’t take anything or break anything. The poster bit back and said she didn’t care about her mental state, she only cared that this woman was on her property. You can’t argue with stupid. I reported the post. My request for its removal was denied. It’s absolutely mindless to say you disregard a person’s mental capacity and that she has no right to wonder around and walk on her front garden. Seriously? Some people agreed with her. On one side we could have a criminal and on the other we could have an innocent, harmless woman who has mentally or physically lost her way. I can’t agree that those two are the same. A person who has no capacity for variations in any respect is lacking in the IQ department. Let’s slap your face onto social media because of your inability to reason. That is what we’re dealing with. If anything happens these days, people disregard the “what if” and just share images of people with the world. If a person is evidentially guilty of a crime that’s different but I would still insist that people consider why over just reacting to the limited information available. Can we not lose the ability to reason and take various aspects into consideration? I always consider things carefully like this. Unfortunately, I’m a minority on this, at least on social media. People react without thinking. People comment their endless assumptions and disapproval online. I don’t know why I ever involve myself because as I said you can’t argue with stupid. There’s something quite heinous about stating negative opinions and assumptions about others online. I’m strongly against it. Even celebrities that I don’t care about, I find myself weighing in with a retort to the sea of mindless negative comments. The world is filled with people who are quick to type out their ridiculous, hateful thoughts without any consideration.

Over recent years I’ve quietly learned about basic intelligence. I can’t pinpoint where this venture began but I occasionally noticed myself making mental notes. If you’re unable to consider other aspects of a situation you are lacking in intelligence. If you make mindless assumptions you are lacking intelligence. If you speak, including comments written on social media, without thinking about the impact your words have or of their validity you are lacking in intelligence. If you can’t see outside of your own frame of reference you are lacking in intelligence. I see these things daily.

On a completely separate note, and because I like documenting which books/TV/films etc that I’ve enjoyed, I’d like my next post to be on the most unusual fiction I’ve ever read. It’s said to be disgusting. I, however, am in awe.

Interviews

Hey, WordPress, it’s been a while. I’ve thought of so many topics to write about and then it has just fizzled out into the atmosphere. What brings me here right now is the current journey that I’m on. I’ve been quite reflectively lately, but honestly, when am I not? Last year, I decided I’d had enough of my job. Let’s recap really quick. I started my job at the end of 2019, just before the pandemic hit the world. It’s a retail job, not something I was ever interested in but my daughters were young and I wanted something easy. I got offered the job there and then, like, I suppose most people are. I enjoyed it at first. I got on with the team. It was Christmas time so it was busy. Fast-forward a bit, I got offered the role of a supervisor which I accepted. I’ve always been seeking glory of some kind and I liked the title. Fast forward a bit more, my brother passed away and I decided to work less and throw myself into making jewellery. It was therapy and I love it. I barely worked at the retail job. Mostly, I spent my time in my room making jewellery. I don’t mean slipping little beads onto elastic, I mean hammering, soldering, filing, pickling, sawing. Just to clarify. I don’t like the thought of people thinking I’m just playing with beads. I’m talking about the real deal. I’m proud of it, as you can see. There’s that glory-seeking-fiend again.

Last year, I decided to change things up. I suddenly awoke. I realised I was wasting valuable years in a job I don’t care about. Fast-forward one last time. So much has changed in my job: the manager, the team, the cluster manager, the store’s ownership. None of that has been of any interest to me. Either way though, I just don’t care about the company or what we do. I’m not passionate about it and I want more. I’ve stayed too long. So I decided to begin searching for a job. I’m going back to admin. I’ve been applying for NHS jobs and I’ve been shortlisted 4 times. I’ve had one good interview, one bad and one okay. The okay one was this month. Today, I was offered my fourth interview. It was an unusual situation. I logged into Trac and realised I had missed the deadline for a role I was really keen on. My heart sunk. I’m an idiot. I was so distracted by the recent interview and awaiting their rejection that I hadn’t clocked the deadline at all. I had already emailed the lead interviewer and asked what systems/software they use. She replied kindly. I decided screw it and I emailed her again asking if there was any chance of accepting a late application. No chance. Her reply gave me hope but she said I’d need to contact the recruitment department, so I called them (no email address). The woman on the phone was really nice, she said she would need to call the lead interviewer (the woman I’d emailed) to check if she would accept it. She called me back with good news (I love her). My application had been retrieved. I was hoping to check it and send it myself but it seemed to have disappeared into the abyss. I had adapted a previous support letter for it to suit this role but I hadn’t thoroughly checked it so I for all I know it could be a mess. Anyway, yesterday afternoon I received an email from the lead interviewer asking how if I sent my application or CV. I replied and then called recruitment and told her she hadn’t received my application, this time she was a little less loveable. She didn’t seem to answer my question and said if she’s willing to accept a CV, send her that. Still nice and friendly and I’ve had my share of unfriendly or cold people. So I adapted my CV for this role and sent it with an explanation to the lead interviewer. Hours later I was shortlisted. When I decided to try my luck the other day and request a late application I thought it was going to be flat out rejected. Deadline missed: bad luck. I once again emailed the lead interviewer (the NHS like that), I thanked her for choosing me and asked if she has any further information about the role. She asked if I’m available tomorrow for a tour and to explain the role. I said hell yeah. Or something like that. And now I’m drinking a Bucks Fizz.

Searching for a job is odd. You get this little slither of time to impress them. Do they get the real, true you? Absolutely not. It’s like social media, it’s a facade. It’s about telling them you’re all singing and dancing. It’s about showing them how shiny your shoes are. It’s about telling them about all your fancy medals and trophies. I could go on. I’ve been putting so much effort into preparing for interviews but I guess they preferred other candidates so far. That’s the simple, crappy truth of it. Maybe I’m off-putting and I don’t realise it. Maybe this time I will be the preferred candidate. Everything matters though, tomorrow isn’t part of the interview exactly but also, it absolutely is. If she likes me, she’ll already place me above the candidates she hasn’t met. If she’s not so fond, I’m done for.

My Health

I’ve written before about my health anxiety but it turns out I could be genuinely seriously ill.

This started shortly after I gave birth to Aliss. At first I didn’t recognise that there was a problem. Within two weeks of her birth I had bad stomach pains that I thought were postpartum after pains. I had a few milder aches too that I thought were related to a potential hernia. I wasn’t worried at this point. I first realised something was wrong on the 25th of July. I was sat watching TV when an ache started. It built up to be quite intense so I went to lie down. I was panicking. I couldn’t do anything to get comfortable. Mike came in and asked what was wrong. He asked if he should call an ambulance. I said “Maybe” but then I decided to call 111. They told me to see the GP in the morning so the call was pointless. I saw the GP the following day and told him there’s a bump on my stomach and about the pain the previous night. He thought it was a hernia but after examining the area he wasn’t sure so he requested an urgent CT scan. That worried me because doctors can diagnose hernias by examining and they usually request an ultrasound scan. I went home and did some Googling and CT scans pose a cancer risk so I wasn’t keen to start with that. I went back to the GP because of my anxiety and to talk about my concerns. We switched to an ultrasound scan and I’m back on Sertraline for my anxiety. A few weeks later I went for the scan and I have a hernia. That made feel better. I knew what was wrong and it wasn’t serious. I’m going to have surgery to repair the hernia. On the 8th of October I was getting the kids ready for school and the ache started. I was worried but I continued and we left. A few minutes into my walk the ache increased to pain and I decided to get the rain cover out of the pushchair, lay it on the ground and sit on it until the pain passed. Eva and Florence were ahead of me and didn’t know there was a problem. I knew they’d scoot/bike back to me. After a minute or two Eva came back to find me on the ground. I said in a weak voice “get Florence, we need to go home”, Eva got Florence and I got up. A parent from the school got out of her car to see if I was okay. I mumbled something back to her and started heading back home. She offered to take them to school but I initially politely declined because I don’t know her. Then an ambulance appeared in front of me and asked me what was wrong. I didn’t know why they were there but it didn’t matter. The parent offered again to get them to school because she was going there anyway so I agreed. The paramedics parked round a corner and led me to the ambulance. I told them what I knew, that it was a hernia. I sat in the chair and they took Aliss to the local nursery where Mike would collect her. He had to leave work. I was then taken to hospital. The doctor I saw asked me questions and prescribed me with Omeprazole which is for acid reflux. I didn’t feel satisfied with this but I accepted it and went home. On the 21st of October I went to bed in pain but managed to fall asleep. I was awoken by feeling sick. That night I threw up 5-6 times. This was the second occasion of sickness. I knew something wasn’t right. I knew I needed to go back to the GP. I called for an appointment but they didn’t have availability until the 24th. I knew this time I needed to tell them I didn’t think the pain was the hernia. I explained my symptoms and he requested bloods, urine sample and prescribed Pantoprazole. He said depending on the results I might need an endoscopy. I managed to book my bloods for the same day due to a cancellation. That evening I received a couple of calls that I declined because I didn’t know the number and I was playing Match Attacks on my phone. I saw the notification that a voicemail had been left so I listened to it. It was a doctor trying to reach me about my blood test results. He said it’s “urgent” and I need to call back “immediately”. This was about 10.30 at night… I was instantly anxious. I played the voicemail to Mike and I text my Mom and sister then I called 111. The call-handler didn’t have my results but she got an out of hours doctor to call me back. Someone called me back to confirm some information then I had to wait again. At 11:30pm a doctor called and said there is a problem with my liver blood tests. He asked me some questions. At the end of the call he said I didn’t need to come into hospital tonight but my GP should get these results in the morning and they’ll contact me and I’ll need a scan. I barely slept. My liver wasn’t even on my radar. I, of course, Googled. Liver failure and tumour came up. The following morning I logged into my NHS account to see if my blood results were available. I didn’t know the figures. I couldn’t access my account for an hour or so but after that I looked at my results and several of them were messed up. Some of which were off the charts high. I won’t type them all out but my Serum ALT level is 733. The normal range is 0-34. So that’s not good. I waited for a phone call that never came so I called and explained that I was expecting a call about my bloods and that I’d received an urgent call late last night. The Receptionist wasn’t sure what to do with me. She said I should go to the hospital if they called late last night. Anyway, in the end she booked me an appointment for that afternoon. Mike asked his parents to collect the kids from school because my appointment clashed and he was at work. I felt so tired that I went to bed but that made me feel like I was ill so I got up and had a shower. I spent the day just waiting for my appointment. I had two more results through, one via text and the other in my NHS account. The text stated that my cholesterol is high and told me to change my lifestyle. The other was that I’m now at high risk of becoming diabetic and that also told me to change my lifestyle (my lifestyle is fine, I exercise, I eat okay, I don’t drink much). So, my liver is screwed and I’m generally falling apart it seems. The doctor asked what was going on and I said my bloods are crazy. I told him about the call. He checked them and agreed that they’re very high. He requested an urgent ultrasound scan and repeat bloods. He thinks it might be Gallstones which made me relax for all of 5 minutes. I’m going to the hospital on Monday to check my blood again.

So, right now I don’t know what is wrong with me. I just know it could be serious and life-threatening. If anyone religious reads this pray for me.

I’m coping with it surprisingly well. I’m eating okay and I’m going out and doing things. Maybe it’s the Sertraline. I just wanted to make a note of what’s going on.

The best case scenario is it’s gallstones and I’ll need two surgeries, the other being the hernia. Let’s just leave it at that, push the worst case scenarios aside.

A Note to/about You.

Trigger warning: loss, grief

I’m sorry. I can’t put it into words how sorry I am. I feel like I abandoned you lately so that I could get on with my life. I guess I had to. I’ve been struggling lately because I decided to open the box again. I owe you that. Tonight I opened the box and delved into it a little too deeply. I have emails that completely break my heart. I don’t even want to type it. For the sake of not being ambiguous though: I have his autopsy report and also photos that I took of his flat, how it was the day he left. It’s too much. I don’t know why I looked again. Back then looking or not looking at those things was much the same because no matter what I felt horrendous. Back then I didn’t want distractions but now I need them. I didn’t know that grief can present as anxiety, did you? I felt horrendously anxious all of the time. It worsened at night. Three years ago I felt damaged beyond repair. I had no interest in anything and only wanted to talk about Darren. If I talked about him with people who knew him I was slightly less alone. I needed that. Now it’s hard because I don’t know what to say. The pain is still there but I’ve used up all the words.

I failed. I said I was going to do this and do that but I didn’t. I was meant to reach out to you and instead I put you in a box so that I could cope. Now that pain comes out in the anxiety that breaks me. The deep fear that you accidentally instilled in me.

I was meant to meet you in your ‘Spoons on your day but I couldn’t. Stupid lack of money. I failed you again and I’m sorry. I will come to you soon. I know that these things won’t change anything but they might make me feel better or closer to you.

What happened to you pains me beyond words.

I wonder about your friends. How are they? How often do they think about you? I wonder about the “other friends” too. Do they feel guilty? How often do they think about you? Did they think about you on the 29th?

That’s all for now. I’ve expressed myself. That’s all I wanted to do after opening those tragic email attachments.

I miss you. Those three words don’t seem so raw unless you’re feeling it but those three words carry such weight.

2am

It’s nearly 2am and I’m still up. I’m not feeling anxious right now as I said in my previous post (that I published tonight). That doesn’t mean I’m all good but I’m writing to help myself. I can’t get in a state like before. I was broken. I didn’t eat for two weeks. The anxiety was crippling. This time I need to be in control. I have a baby who needs me. After I finished my previous post I changed Aliss’s nappy, and put her to bed with her bottle (propped up). I came back to the lounge and poured myself a glass of wine, not because I’m currently feeling anxious, I’m actually feeling wonderfully calm. So why the late night and the wine? Because I know I’m not better. Most of my pregnancy I only worried about the baby’s health and going through labour. I also had health checks that probably unwittingly made me feel a sense of security. I’m not better though, I’m an anxious person and I think certain things have broken me. They’ve broken my world and I have to deal with that. The most harsh reality was forced upon me and it’s affected my mental health. My mental health has always been fragile. I can be perfectly mentally well at times but if something goes wrong I can struggle to cope. As you can see I’m avoiding what has broken me, for now, at least.
I’m going to try to be kinder to myself. After sitting down with my wine that I’m not even sure I want I searched “health anxiety” on Instagram and just hearing people talk about it and hearing doctors suggest new ways of thinking makes me feel less alone. My anxiety, like yours probably does, makes me feel so awfully alone. Instead of looking for the worst I’m only going to look for the best case scenarios if anything at all (hopefully I stick to that). What is the use of searching horrible things? Well, I know I do it to try to rule things out but symptoms of the worst things are often ambiguous. Also, it could be up to a month before I find out the results of my upcoming CT scan so making myself terrified in the meantime will be detrimental to me and my family. I spent hours Googling the worst things last time and my mental health spiralled out of control and I lost myself.
Being human is a nightmare at times. Before the heartbreaking event 3 years ago I didn’t think in such a dark way as I do now. I hate letting these thoughts in because they cause this horrible feeling that I can’t quite describe and honestly it ruins my days. I just can’t quite put it into words but it makes me feel a sense of doom and there’s nothing worse than that feeling.
So, I’m going to try to deal with this better than how I dealt with my fears last time.

Another Episode

My health anxiety is back. There’s always a starting point. This time a squishy subtle bump above my belly button and pain. I’ve had a subtle bump above my belly button for a while now. I don’t remember when I first had it. It never caused me any issues until recently. During the last month of my pregnancy I noticed some mild pain in the area. I was supposed to tell my midwife but I forgot and it wasn’t bothering me much. After I gave birth, maybe a few weeks after, I noticed an ache there occasionally. I wasn’t worried because I’d read about hernias and figured it was that. On the 25th July I had a lot of pain around that area. At the time I was watching TV, relaxed. I was looking at a Facebook group for local Moms. They’re planning a meet up at a new baby/toddler cafe in town. I was thinking of going. Whilst I was looking at this I noticed an ache. Over the space of maybe an hour it got worse. Shortly after mentioning the pain I got up and said I was going to lie down for a bit. The pain instantly got a lot worse. I couldn’t get comfortable and I couldn’t calm down. Mike came to check on me and I was in a bit of a state. I asked for painkillers. He got me some and water. I took it and he asked if we should call an ambulance, I said I didn’t know. I asked him to call 111 but then I did it myself. I answered their initial questions then explained the problem. They said a gp would call me within an hour. A doctor called, asked a few questions then advised me to go to the gp in the morning. The pain eased off. I managed to get some sleep. Not much though because the baby woke me up a few hours later. I couldn’t back to sleep. I had an alarm set for 7.58am so that I could call the doctors at 8am. I briefly cancelled the alarm because I was tired. I decided I’d regret that so I set the alarm again. I got an appointment for 9.30am. All I wanted to do was sleep but I got up and waited. I saw a the doctor and explained the situation, that the subtle bump has been there for potentially years, maybe since my previous pregnancy. I explained the subtle pain at the end of the last pregnancy and then the previous night’s pain. The doctor asked questions and then got me to lie down to examine the area. He said if it’s a hernia he should be able to feel it, he couldn’t. He got me to stand up and he could see the bump, he asked me to cough a few times. We sat back down and he said he was going to request an urgent CT scan (silent panic). He said it’s not because it’s something bad but because he’s impatient and wants to know what’s going on sooner rather than later. Nice save… He talked more about hernias and prescribed me some painkillers. I went home, told Mike and a little later I went for a nap with the baby. I tried not to overthink and I didn’t Google anything scary. When he handed me a pizza after my nap I knew I felt anxious because I wasn’t hungry. I made myself eat some mostly so he didn’t suspect that I was struggling. Last time was really bad for both of us. Today I ate okay, I even felt hungry at one point. But it’s been there on my mind all day. We went to his parent’s house today for dinner and I wasn’t hungry but I made myself eat. During our time there I noticed an ache on my left side behind my rib and I worried more but it got me thinking maybe I’m just anxious, maybe that’s what this particular pain is. I don’t mean the bump pain, I mean the pain I felt during my big health anxiety break down. Did I write about that? I was convinced I had cancer in my neck, then it was my kidney, then it was pancreatic. It sounds silly in that one sentence but there’s a story there. The reason I’m writing this down now is so that hopefully I can see that what I’m going through right now is anxiety. Anyway, let’s get to the crux of my fear. Tonight I Googled. I only Google to try to rule out the worst but it didn’t. I’m worried I have stomach cancer. A symptom is pain above your belly button and one of the causes is being exposed to metal. I’ve worked heavily with metals for almost 3 years in conditions that aren’t the best. I wore a mask but I don’t know how effective it was, I also kept the window open. The trouble is I sleep in the room that I work in and I don’t have a ventilation system. Not for lack of care, I just don’t have the money to change things. I will change things, maybe even stop soldering until I can make it more safe. Please just let this be anxiety that will pass soon. The real problem right now, the only one I can know for certain is that I’m going to have to have a CT scan and I’m going to feel anxious until it’s over, if the results are nothing to worry about. I have 3 children to look after and it’s the summer holidays and we have fun days planned. I know that Mike needs me to be okay but it’s hard to be and I it’s impossible for him to feel what I feel. The anxiety comes in waves at the moment. Right now I feel okay but 10 minutes ago I felt really anxious. I hope this is all nothing. I occasionally thought about how I hadn’t felt anxious during pregnancy, is that because I had regular check ups or because I didn’t have any unexplained symptoms? Right now I can’t feel any ache, I think that’s why I feel okay but if it returns I will get worried again.

A Little Vent

I started my maternity leave recently, not because I wanted to but because Mike insisted. So that’s it. I don’t plan on going back so that’s kind of a big deal. I want a better job when I’m ready to work again. I’m already feeling a lack of purpose but I’m too pre-occupied by being 37 weeks pregnant to panic about it right now (that’s yet to come, no doubt). I know what I’m like, I need purpose, I need creativity and direction. I don’t get that from being a parent. I get a lot of good stuff from being a parent but it will never provide me with enough to be content without my own individual path. I’m still making jewellery, I have a new stamp which I’m happy with and I intend to make a pair of earrings soon.

Something has been bothering me lately, not to the extent of deep sadness but it’s on my mind sometimes. It’s hard not to feel the deafening absence of my family right now, whilst I’m due to give birth. I’ve seen my Mom once this year and it ended in an argument. Let’s go into it. We’d had a couple of arguments over Facebook Messenger, what’s new? She’s always initiating arguments in messages. One of which was about her endless bitterness and negativity that she was spewing out over Facebook. My Aunty (her sister) had commented and I did too agreeing with her. My Mom’s endless cynicism is ugly. I’m not some super positive person but going entirely the other way is just as tiring. I’m in-between. Anyway, she messaged me, very snappy and angry and she just gets herself all worked up. We haven’t really spoke a lot this year and she feels like a stranger. My Nan invited me out for lunch around Easter and I messaged my Mom to see if she wanted to come. Her reply was basically yes but only if I actually wanted her there. This is after not speaking for a while. It’s tiring, she’s always confrontational. She can’t just say yes. She said she would come but she didn’t have any money. I had to offer to pay for her lunch. I had to cancel the particular day we were going to meet because my foot was hurting. We met the following week instead. It was the Easter holidays and when I arrived at ‘Spoons, they both asked why the kids weren’t there. I don’t take them to Wetherspoons, kids aren’t interested in sitting in the pub. We had a nice lunch. Nan wanted to pay and I think I’d paid for the last one. Not long after I had got home I received a nasty message. This is very normal. It shouldn’t be but it is. I was called spiteful. The first part reads “How very spiteful and how deliberate, oh and thanks for lunch!” I’m thinking “What have I done now?” She was raging that I hadn’t taken the kids and that I didn’t pay for her lunch, Nan did. So, firstly, I didn’t ever intend to take the kids, the original plan (before I had cancelled because of my foot) was going to be during school time. The second thing she was mad at is a fucking joke. Her lunch was paid for. I have a crappy part-time job and soon-to-be 3 children. How on earth can I spare money for my own lunch never mind hers? I only said I would get her lunch because she gave me no choice. What a shitty thing to be mad about. Then she went on about Mike’s parents getting to see the kids. Yes, they see them often because they don’t treat me like shit. They don’t bully me and judge me. My Mom never asks to see the kids or me. His parents invite us round for dinner all the time and they’re always supportive and I consider them to be my family. I don’t want to spend time with toxic people and my Mom is toxic. What I consider a nice lunch, she creates a huge problem out of. I could give a thousand examples of her toxicity and bullying. This year, I decided I’d had enough. Something shifted. It’s taken so many years for me to finally feel this way about her. Whenever she messages me or when I message her it’s reluctant. I do it to be nice, not because I want to. She messaged me last month to see how I’m doing. Reluctance. I invited her to come round for coffee and to show her the baby clothes. She ignored that part of the message. Let’s just clarify, I have made a reluctant effort to see her twice this year yet there’ll be another bitter, crazy argument about how I don’t ever see her and she doesn’t see the kids. The first time she ruined and the second time she ignored.

I’m 37 weeks pregnant now, full-term, due any time now. I’m done. She isn’t a mother, not to me anyway, she is to Jade. She’s had no part in this pregnancy which isn’t unlike the others. When the baby is born I know she’ll be angry. She’ll be angry that she isn’t involved. I’m not interested in her taking a photo for Facebook. A photo that tells lies. Same as my Dad who I haven’t seen this year. I don’t have parents. I don’t want to know these people anymore because they’ve only ever let me down. Mike’s parents have been on a cruise in Scotland, back today and I’ve been nervous about the baby coming whilst they’re not around to look after the kids. I wouldn’t ask my Mom to have them, the runners up are Mike’s younger brother and his wife. That’s how bad my relationship is with my parents.

I don’t know what’s going through her head right now. Maybe she hardly thinks about me and the baby. Maybe she vaguely plans to visit when the baby is here. I don’t want her to. I really don’t. She hasn’t been there physically or emotionally my entire pregnancy. I don’t need her making the effort to make herself feel better or to look good on Facebook.

That’s all for now, I just wanted to get that out there.

22:22

My brother wrote a blog about this time. Did this time have significance for him that he never discovered? Last night I was watching the Christmas Special of Gavin & Stacey and Nessa and Bryn were singing Fairytale of New York, a song that I can’t listen to without feeling sad now. It had sadness anyway but that was our Christmas song. That song just hits me right in the heart every time. I looked at my phone, not to unlock it and check something, I just looked at it as tears filled my eyes. 22:22. Then, the same night, I had a dream and it was your Birthday, you were still gone and I had looked at my phone and it said 22:22 and that’s when I realised it was your Birthday (in reality it wouldn’t take me all day to realise).

I don’t even want to type it out…

Did something happen at 22:22 that night?

Is my mind just coiling round some dark and unrealistic bends?

If I light a candle on your Birthday at 22:22 will you be there somehow or is this just fairytale crap?

I don’t believe in a lot of shit like fate or horoscopes and I’m not religious. However when one of the worst things happen some people look to spirituality in hope of some comfort and I think even I have being doing that at times.

I have some photos of myself, not the kind you’d share because I look like a bag of crap, but I see your face in my face. That’s a little comforting, only a little though, what use is that? I like to say hello to your ashes like you’re really there and nothing is wrong and last December I bought you a Christmas wreathe for the cabinet where now reside. A God Damn cabinet.. Christ…

Anyway, this is depressing. Now time has passed I can often decide to close the box up and open it again later. December begins tomorrow and I needed a moment…

22:22