November 17th, 2017

Hi hello.

I have been poorly lately, but I’m on the mend.
I have started at a new job, which I love and I’m on new medication for my bipolar.
I will be back for more on a later date.


September 2nd, 2017

When you have an anxiety disorder, every stressing situation goes to eleven and when you combine that with bipolar disorder, you get a brain that goes not only to eleven, but everything just happens to the power of twelve.

I’ve never thought I was claustrophobic. Turns out I apparently haven’t been in a tight enough space before. Put me in a tiny closet and close the door, no problem. Lifts, fine. Crowded places, no problem (except that i start hating people, but that’s not claustrophobia, it’s misantrophy). But this past Friday, I was supposed to be having a head MRI (nothing too dangerous that they’re looking for, worry not) and I was fine as fiddlesticks up until the point that they loaded me about halfway into the fucking donut. I told them to let me out and I took a moment and said ok, no worries, I’ll be fine, I’m just feeling a bit, you know, packed in. So I got to put my arms in a different position and in I went again. I closed my eyes and thought about nice things and then one of the nurses said this isn’t going to work, we need to pack you in a little tighter still. Apparently so I wouldn’t be able to move.

That’s when I started to feel really panicky, like there was still a bit of room to move and I was already being pulled out of the donut, but I felt my legs starting to twitch because the fucking loader wasn’t moving quick enough. Merely the thought of being packed even tighter made me panic. So I got out and said this isn’t gonna work. They didn’t even suggest booking another time and knocking me out with a sedative, they just ushered me away with ‘ok, this is not going to work then, go see the neurologist who booked you in’.

And out the door I was, in the dressing room, where I started to cry, because I was in hysterics and panicking because the claustrophobia and anxious because I immediately felt like I was a) a fucking snowflake and b) just wasting everyone’s precious time. Yes, sure, it’s a hospital, they have booked times and they’re not responsible for comforting me, I get that, but like they could’ve said something. Maybe say it’s ok, you’re not the only one who chickens out, it happens, and just maybe ask if I was fine. That would’ve taken them exactly zero extra time, since all that could’ve been said in the span of silence that went on for the half a minute it took me to get off the bed and walk to the dressing room door.

So I got dressed, went out to the hallway and had to sit down on the nearest bench on the main corridor of the hospital and cry for fifteen minutes, until I felt un-shaken enough to actually figure out what I had to do to get to the neurological department. In there, the service was infinitely better, the nice lady at the reception told me to take a seat and said it’s fine, it’s terrible for everyone and only most people can go through with it, not all. And she went to see the doctor to ask if it was necessary to take any kind of imaging of my brain (i told you, it’s nothing serious (at least that’s what they’ve told me haa-haa watch me crash and burn at this)) and she came back with a yes, but a CT-scan would suffice, even if it wasn’t as good. And she booked me in for that and booked a lab appointment for me as well, so wouldn’t have to do it on me own, as she clearly could see I was pretty shaken.

So I made it out, but in a shitty state. I couldn’t shake off the cloustrophobic feeling for hours, not for the whole day. I went home and made me an atomic strength cuppa, sat out on the porch, listening to the rain and just breathing in, but it still lingered. Up until the time I was going to sleep, where I couldn’t get to sleep for a good while.

I don’t know. It just feels so unfair that whenever something even slightly stressful happens, it wipes me out for a ridiculous amount of time and leaves me feeling invalid and inadequate and a waste of space.

Anxiety is truly a bitch.

State of the Nation: August 2017 edition

August 19th, 2017

It’s been a while since anything moved around these parts. But hey, I’m here and you’re here. Thanks for that, mate.

Right now-ish I’m

enjoying a nice cup of tea after a day of Doing a Lot of Things™, which include digging up stones on the yard, picking raspberries (that i won’t even eat, but mom does) and sorting out our Barbie-stuff from childhood with me sister. The whole lot, two horses and carriage and a kitchen set and a fuckton of other sets are going off to my mate’s kid, for when she turns however old you need to be to know how to properly treat vintage toys.

thinking about how much I’d like to be rummaging through the seemingly endless amount of storage boxes I have that are filled with stuff I probably won’t need. Ever. But then again, it’s nearly midnight and kid’s asleep so I won’t want to bother him. I guess I can get back into that tomorrow or something.

eating fudge. Damnit, I need to check local Lidl tomorrow if they have any more of those.

drinking Tetley tea (brewed for many, many minutes, until weapons-grade strength) from my Mrs. Michael Fassbender -mug

a thing of beauty, innit

wearing army green short shorts and a tank top (two things in life are certain; death and the fact that if you go to sleep in a tank top, one of your titties will be out when you wake up) and knee-high woolly socks, made especially for me by a good mate of mine.

listening Enjoy the Silence by KI Theory. This is… eerie, scary, desperate, good.

wanting for my orders from Kikki.K and Filofax to arrive (not holding my breath about the filofax one as the last one turned into a farce on an unprecedented scale) and also for people to stop being absolute twats. These two things have nothing to do with eachother, just in case anyone was wondering.

feeling somewhat content, if not counting the disgust I feel towards a load of people on social media. Mainly fb. Sticking to twitter and tumblr for a while and covering myself with Fassbender has never seemed a better idea than now.

wondering if I’ll fall asleep tonight in a relatively timely manner. (doubt it, ha-ha! -my brain) Or will I be writing my story in my head for a few hours, like every night for emh… a long time.

Also: weather-wise it’s been ace. It’s really been an uncommonly dry summer over these parts. It rained a lot last night, but before that it’s been… no rain for ages. I mean yea a drizzle or two every now and then, but like a proper, soaking rain? Nuh. I don’t think at all the whole summer? Ground is dry even now, if you dig like a centimeter deep. So yea, dry as fuck. Strange.

And those are the cards I’m playing with right this moment.


July 21st, 2017

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?
You build up hope, but failure’s all you’ve known
Remember all the sadness and frustration
And let it go
Let it go

I’m absolutely devastated about Chester Bennington. I cannot process this at present. Linkin Park was a big part of my life at a point when everything fell apart. It’s partly because Hybrid Theory that I’m here today. Jesus this hurts.


July 17th, 2017

I can’t believe it’s been two weeks since I left London. I know it was just a quick pop-by, but it was the most happiest three days I’ve had in months.

I met Adam, a bloke I knew only through Facebook and he turned out to be every bit as wonderful and awesome and everything as I expected. And beyond. Mate, you’re truly a treasure, I am so fucking hyped to have met you in person.

I had such a great time with my husband, just walking around, having a picnic in the park and slouching in our hotel room at late night.

I’ve not travelled much, but none of the places I’ve been to have made me so passionately fall in love with it than London has. It’s ridiculous.

I miss it. I miss London. I started missing it the moment I stepped in the plane on Heathrow (can you imagine our flight left from gate 1?)