Daily Archives: July 23, 2012

The train wreck that is me

So…I have numeric dyslexia, apparently. my appt with the sunshine spewer wasn’t Friday, it was today. It went okay, she was pretty supportive for a change. (Is she sick? Am I sick?) Still, I walked out feeling pretty bloody empty, like I am so totally alone it’s not funny.

Spent the day at the shop with R singing my praises. He seems to really seems to appreciate me, which kind of defuses what Kenny said about R only keeping me around so he doesn’t have to do everything for himself.

My mom had my kid good and sugared up, just got her down for a nap. I’m talking Toddler Cornholio here, which is a reference only Beavis and Butthead fans will get.

It is hotter than hell out, hotter inside this trailer.

The only good point today was on the way home, they played a song on the radio that I really liked and rushed home to download.

Is that all that keeps me holding on? Occasionally finding a good song?

I wonder.

I told the counselor I am miserable and struggling.

She said she’s proud of me and I am doing well.

(eye roll here.)

When I have my breakdown, her expert opinion will be duly noted.

I’m slipping, I know I am slipping. I can’t keep up with the bloody housework, I have two kittens who won’t catch onto the litter box bit, I cured my ant problem only to inherit roaches, I am sleeping in fits a couple hours at a time, haunting the place at 3 am night after night, in NO mood for company yet bored and feeling isolated and every day I come home (mon-fri) and swear someone has been in the place messing with things I know (or think I know) I left a certain way.


Then I come home and read that a friend lost a friend to cancer and I just feel so sad for her, and feel like such a selfish jerk for thinking my stupid problems count for shit…


I live in a perpetual state of GRRR.

I just want emotional novacaine, why can’t they make a pill for that? Just make me numb. Because as of late the anxiety attacks have been kicking my ass on top of the depression, and frankly, this crazy bitch could use a goddamned break. (Pardon my french, but ya know, I have anger issues and when angry, I swear A LOT.)

I guess I will post this while I can still see the publish button through the sweat streaming down my face. Bloody hell, I hate summer. Fall may bring seasonal affect but it’s better than the wicked witch melting disorder.

Another Day in the Office

Bradley Wiggins won the 99th edition of the Tour de France yesterday – I was glued to the TV hence this post being a little late.  Over the preceding three weeks, as, together with his team mates, he cycled round France (as well as a brief visit to neighbouring Belgium), the world marvelled at the discipline, focus and mutual support that this cycling team displayed as they powered over mountains towns and villages of the home of the greatest bike race in the world. 

There’s been a lot of discussion in the press here in the U.K. about the impact that this historic victory will have on cycling here.  While many of you reading this will be doing so in countries where cycling of all kinds commuters and competitors alike, is part of the mainstream, over here it is still a minority sport (the BBC does not have TV coverage, and only the briefest of radio coverage).  If you want to follow it on the TV you have to watch it on channels you might not watch at any other time of the year.  You might say that the Tour is a three-week long interview process to be considered amongst the greats of the world of cycle sport – and some say of sport in general, so gruelling is the event.

Pundits expect that Wiggins’ success and coverage of the Team GB cycling team in the upcoming Olympic Games will see a surge in interest and participation in all forms of cycling. 

Coincidentally, this week sees the start of a series of TV programmes on mental health issues broadcast by Channel 4 – sorry overseas readers the programmes are only available to watch in the UK.  The series is called ‘Channel 4 Goes Mad’.  The centre piece of which will be recruitment process involving a number of candidates, some of whom have mental health problems.  The point is to see if people with these sort of health issues can take their place with confidence in the world of work.  You can find out more by clicking on this link:


Whilst I have some reservations about the series title, the series aims to show that having mental health problems, even severe and enduring mental health problems need not be a bar to holding down a responsible job. 

I am fortunate in the sense that my job – a part-time Peer Supporter means that I have had to have had a severe and enduring mental health condition in order to be considered for the role, and that goes for my boss, too.  Since I started work in this role in May 2012 I have not had a single day off sick.  In the past decade, which included three years off sick, I never managed a whole year at work without at least a month off work, laid low by depression.  I credit my more stable health to the inspiring nature of my work which promotes recovery amongst people who have severe and enduring mental health problems.  So, the world of work can support people’s mental health recovery.

With the right kind of supportive environment, work place awareness and reasonable adjustments (such as allowing staff to adjust work loads, curb hours temporarily) people like me can contribute to the world of work, and help support their own recovery at the same time.

Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen to you
Sheena Pugh (1950 – )

It’s All in the Timing, Mid-Afternoon Mental Moment

  A day late and a dollar short A stitch in tine saves nine The early bird gets the worm If you don’t hurry up you will be late to your own funeral We will sell no wine before its time Fun for to make Kitten Britches One of these things is not like the … Continue reading

His ‘n’ Hers

At 7am this morning, as the sun was breaking over the foothills of Mount Igeldo in San Sebastian, I had the bright idea that it might be a nice thought to text Tiff a picture of wherever I happened to be each morning to accompany her morning cuppa. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten that she’d already been up since 5am having been keeping her customers at Hotel Bell Tent happy all weekend at Port Eliott in Cornwall, and I think the picture I got back might suggest it wasn’t such a great idea…

But whilst I’m in insensitive prat mode, here’s last night’s sunset in San Sebastian:

Today’s walk was from San Sebastian to Zarautz – at 20.4km around 7km shorter than the first leg and thankfully also a little less challenging; the brevity of yesterday’s post was partly to do with the fact they obviously don’t believe in breaking you gently on this journey, with the route rising and falling by about 500m from sea level with fairly alarming frequency, which is also no doubt largely why I ended up having a whinge about the rucksack weight.

But after a good night’s sleep – well, as good as you can have in a bunk bed in a dormitory in a hostel surrounded by snoring Pelegrinos (pilgrims) – the rucksack felt much less daunting and I set off at a fair lick along the coastline, which was generally flatter, although rising to 300m at times just to keep me on my toes.

This stretch is also renowned for the locals’ friendliness towards Pelegrinos, and there seemed to be endless free opportunities to rehydrate, just a couple of which below made me smile – the top one because it slightly tempered the appeal of free refreshment with a reminder about just how far was left to go to Santiago, and the bottom one because it was absolutely in the middle of nowhere in a stretch of dense woodland. The water spout you can just see in the background of the picture on the left was piped straight from a mountain spring.And without rambling on too much, I should probably mention that a bit of instant karma kicked in as a result of my early morning texting decision; the most challenging part of the day was entirely my fault as I managed to do the steepest climb of the day twice. This photo was taken from the top of a path that you can see winding down below. On reaching the summit I couldn’t see any yellow arrows so asked some Spanish cyclists if I was going the wrong way and they assured me I was, so I got two thirds of the way back down again, only to meet a group of Pelegrinos beginning the steepest part of the ascent. Call me paranoid, but walking up again I’m sure I could hear laughter echoing over the next mountain ridge…

But not much point complaining really when the scenery looks like this…

Looking a bit shabby already

Filed under: On The Road Tagged: El Camino del Norte, Photograph, San Sebastian, Walking, Zarautz

Wah Wah Wah

I’m at the point of things where I feel whiny. I don’t want to do anything, I want to just go back to sleep or stare at the ceiling or cry… yanno, anything but drag myself onwards through the day. What’s the point? I’ll rise and wake tomorrow for more of the same. But I can’t think like that, or I’ll lose. And yet, it’s so seductive to give into the darkness, isn’t it? Why bother, why care, it serves no purpose. Slide down, slide down, now isn’t that fun, now isn’t that fun, but lo, there is no ladder from the bottom of the pit…

So yeah, can’t let myself think like that, as seductive as it is. Instead, I’m stacking up every tiny victory in my day to try and encourage me to keep dragging myself onward. It’s difficult, especially when little chemical jolts of sad occasionally stab me out of the blue. If isn’t one thing, it’s another, isn’t it. I’m doing good writing it down and talking to my husband about it, but I still feel knife-edge, as if that one tiny wrong thing will send me spiraling. But… I don’t want to give up and hide. The bipolar wins if I do that. I’m stubborn and don’t want to give it the satisfaction; stubbornness has carried me far in this life. It’s turning a ‘fault’ into a strength, as best I can to aid me. And yanno, taking advantage of this medium to roll things around in, taking advantage of friends to talk things out with, taking advantage of… sunlight? All I know is that I will continue on the best I can, because that’s winning.


Self-Soothing Shopping Spree

It was a day of great irritability. After a morning appointment, I was still feeling irritable and restless, so work …

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