As my 35th birthday approaches this weekend , although not a special birthday (despite Jon jubilantly reminding me it heralds being in my ‘mid-thirties’) It is a special birthday to me and one I particularly want to celebrate. This is the first birthday in the whole of my adult life and somewhat before that I can put my hand on my heart and say I am truly happy. I have battled depression, occasionally very severely since my mid teens, and this included very low self esteem, low self-confidence, negativity and anxiety. I never believed I would or could ever feel truly happy in my heart, despite throughout the years achieving most of the things I wanted like marriage and children, and hated myself,my life and for a majority of mornings would wish that I hadn’t woken up. Last christmas I really hit rock bottom , but the only way to go from there was up and I knew that I desperately didn’t want to waste my life being unhappy. At the beginning of this year something snapped in my head and started to change the way I thought. I have worked without fail everyday since March positive thinking. I have looked for things to be grateful for , and when I really looked I found them, and day by day, I found more things and gradually I started to see positive things instead of negative things, I saw the bright side instead of the dark side, I was optimistic and refused to let other peoples negativity get to me or change how I felt inside , when before my state of mind was entirely dependent on how others were. Slowly, but surely I felt happy, not just for a second, not just for an hour, I felt happy ALL of the time! If someone would ask me ‘Am I happy’ for the first time ever, I would answer ‘yes!’ I feel grateful for everything, I am so lucky to be who I am, and have who I have in my life, I feel so much love for everyone in my life and appreciate everything about them . I appreciate everything I have and I love my self and my life at last! Thank you to my wonderful friends and family , I feel massive amounts of love for you! I wanted to share this, purely for the reason that I am so proud of myself for how far I have come and what hard work can achieve , it can be done! and to be able to say that I am now truly happy is the best birthday present I could ever ask for ❤ I love you all xxxx
Jon has just been outside.In Flip Flops. I heard the disgusted exclamation of ‘EEEEEUGH’ come from outside the patio doors. “What is it?” I shouted. “Slugs!” he replied. “It’s slug central out here!!” He had of course trodden, in his flip flops, on the biggest fattest ginger slug since Henry VIII that had exploded up the back of his shortie pyjama’d leg. Grim. Almost as bad as the time I did it in bare feet and it squished vomit inducingly between my toes or indeed even grimmer the time I started eating a pepper from the green house, only to notice halfway through slicing it and dipping it in my hummus that there was a bastard little slug residing inside it. Anyway, these slimy little mofos are carpeting the garden and Jon was rather worried about his prize spuds. Potatoes that is not his testicles, although I must say he does prize those very highly. So he had gone out to bring his ‘babies’ inside away from the munchy mouths of the slugs. There is now a growbag of potatoes sitting inside our dining room. I think this is a little extreme but there you go.
Jon, never one to let garden pest retribution opportunities pass him by decided to take immediate action. I came into the kitchen to find him rifling through the condiments cupboard and grinding Pink Himalayan Rock salt into a glass. ‘What ARE you doing?’ I asked. ‘Well I can hardly go out there with this little grinder , bending over and grinding salt onto every slug can I ? and we don’t have any regular salt and besides only the best for our slugs’ and off he went, The middle class table condiment angel of death . Sluicing his saline solution and turning the garden into a recreation of The Jonestown Massacre.
I reckon this now puts us in the posh category along with people who shop at Waitrose as their son Quentin throws quinoa into the trolley…….
I am sitting here trying to come up after making the mistake of taking two zopiclones to sleep last night. I had a Withnail moment and thought I should take double, mainly as last night I didn’t feel like listening to all the thoughts in my head. However this morning, I am regretting that decision as it’s going to take a speedball or in a more realistic scenario, approx ten cups of tea to wake me up. Or so I say, but for some completely unknown reason Jon is in his dressing gown , on his back like a tortoise who can’t get up , spinning himself round with lets say, a modicum of mobility problems attempting to breakdance. I now question that it was sleeping pills I took and not in fact LSD or whether in fact it was ME who took the drugs and not Jonathan. He is also attempting to rap. What a god awful trip this is, if it’s me. Right on our new engineered oak flooring in the dining room aswell. Mother in Law will have a fit! I suppose he is dusting it, and a large surface area at a time. Saves me. What is he doing though, the poor bugger has a back problem. This is what happens I suppose when one approaches 40 in a few weeks. Likes to prove he’s still ‘young’. Still, It’s all fun and games until your slipped disc pops out as well as other things when you are just wearing a dressing gown. Going back to bed and sleeping off these pills is looking very attractive……
Well Hello there 2016, It has been awhile. I must apologise, a long bout of tiredness and general lowness led to my brain giving up on me for a few months towards the end of last year and I just could not find it in myself to write. The problem then became that the longer I left it, the harder it became to put fingers to keys and even think of something worth writing let alone reading. Lifes funny vignettes that occur frequently in my world were instantly lost in the haze before I had the chance to record them, frustrating me greatly.
However, I know that this defeatist attitude gets me nowhere and so I will endeavour to pick up and start again!
My phone, thanks to naughty boy is smashed so no pics for awhile, I will have to be extra photographic in my descriptions. For example, The slight discomfort on Jon’s Uncle Norman’s face as he asked what I had received for christmas, as we sat around the table on boxing day and Jon very excitedly informed him that he had bought me some black thigh high boots. Uncle Norman at hearing this squirted a little too much Devon’s custard onto his figgy pudding , as I blushed and the mother in law suggested I would need vaseline to get them off, to which Jon replied ‘So did he’.#awks. Auntie Gwenda kept quiet. Perhaps, noting to look for some in the sales, she loves a bargain. Anyway, these boots are quite fabulous. I was concerned I would look like Julia Roberts in ‘Pretty Woman’ and that they may look a bit prostitutey for day wear despite all the gorgeous fashion bloggers on Instagram managing to wear them with jumper dresses sans tights or jeans and just look fabulously casual instead of fabulously ‘work it baby, own it’. I needn’t have worried too much as due to the shortness of my legs I look more like a freshwater Angler in a black pair of waders. Which is fine, exactly the look I was aiming for. Far less conspicuous on the school run anyway. And indeed who cares, I love wearing whatever tickles my fancy and dressing for whatever mood I may be in on the day. I absolutely love clothes . I love dressing the children (probably a good thing we don’t have a dog) . When my screen is fixed I look forward to be getting back into my instagram schoolrunstyle.
410 ten words, it’s a start. Start of a new year and all it may bring! although hopefully not any ‘Odell’ albums as my mother in law calls her ffs……….
Today Jon was off work and we decided after dropping off Angelina at school to nip into Tesco’s to do a top up shop. ‘Shall we put Gabriel in the trolley?’ I said. ‘No’ said Jon, ‘I’m not in the mood for him screaming’. Big Mistake. Huge. Allow me to give a little insight to our trip around the supermarket. Firstly, in a fantastic marketing ploy we were greeted by a big box of pumpkins surrounded by Halloween sweets. His greedy little eyes lit up as he clocked all the tubs of Haribo and prepared to launch himself into the cardboard pumpkin patch as though it was a seasonal soft play. Retrieved the little git and we carried on into the shop. Next we picked up a paper and in the two seconds that took he decided to help himself to two ‘Take a Break’ Crossword puzzles books because they had a duck on the front.’QUACK QUACK’ he shouted as he threw those into the trolley. ‘No Gabriel, we don’t need any crossword books today’. Back they went. He continued to peruse the aisles, particularly anything they had cunningly put at his level like chocolate muffins ‘OOOOOOOH’ he pointed helping himself. You’ll be lucky matey. Back they went. I opened the sliding door to grab some yogurts on offer, of course quicker than you can say A and E, he stuck his fingers in the door so that as it slid to, it trapped his fingers in it. He was unimpressed. So was I. That will teach him to stick his fingers in things. We continued, he followed. Until his eye was caught by another Halloween display, this time it had costumes and toys and other really expensive pointless crap that will just annoy you once you’ve bought it. We turned our back for two seconds and then he appeared with full on sound effects of ‘RAAAAARGH’ brandishing a double headed axe and running at people like a premature grim reaper. Bad times. OAP shoppers did not look chuffed, nor would I imagine the store workers be if one had a heart attack thanks to mini ‘Death’ charging at them. I hope they enjoyed the CCTV footage of that. ‘Let’s have that back shall we?’. He looked incredible perturbed that his weapon had been taken away. Only temporarily though because he had already spotted the reduced section, also at his level that was piled high with giant water squirters that were the size of him, phallic in shape and had shark and crocodile faces on the end. BINGO he thought, and turned around with one under his arm like a blunderbus screaming ‘YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR’ before throwing himself on the floor commando style and somehow managing to slide down an entire aisle on his stomach, holding this crocodile squirter as if it was alive and he was Steve Irwin (RIP, bet you wished you’d left that sting ray alone now) yes several people looked at him (probably in disgust or pity for us) whilst he did this. ‘Gabriel , get up, alright it’s reduced to 58p you can have it’ So he happily threw that in the trolley, chuffed that he’s managed to con something else we didn’t need out of us. That should keep him happy we thought, turned around and he was gone. ‘Oh FFS’ . He returned with an incredible smug look on his face and revealed he had found another water squirter, this time a shark. He would not be parted from this second piece of shit either so to try and finish our shop , life was easier to let him carry that around for a bit. We reached the pet section where he nearly caused another OAP heart attack by suddenly shouting ‘GOG GOG!!!!!!!!!!’ when he saw a tin of dog food. I saw the old lady visibly jump. This may have been his shouting or the fact he poked her with his shark while he did it. Either way, quick exit from that section. Two ladybird bluetooth speakers appeared in the trolley, had to remove those on the sly. Job done, just coming up to the checkout. ‘oh BUGGER’ We forgot bags. Clearly like every self respecting shopper we were not about to fork out FIVE FECKING P for a bag so Jon ran back to the car to see if we had anything in there we could use to put the shopping in. As it happened we had a few compost bags we had unloaded at the tip last weekend. RESULT! and two screwed up carrier bags, so we used those. I am actually a bit disappointed Jon didn’t have the balls to take in the compost bags. However, whilst he was out, I stayed with the trolley and Gabriel, parked back by the magazine section which is opposite the fresh veg. I perused the magazine covers, being too cheap to buy any, to gleam the headlines for celebrity gossip. Hmm Kerry Katona, is fat AGAIN. Unlucky your billionth marriage didn’t work out love! Did Scott Disick cheat on Kourtney Kardashian OF COURSE HE DID. Ola Jordan got her boobies out for a pic and doesn’t regr…..Then I felt a thump in the trolley and turned around. ‘GABRIELLLLLLL!!!!!’ whilst I was absorbed in the celebrity rubbish, Gabriel has decided that our trolley was lacking in a single muddy potato, a leek, a comedy Christmas cactus with a santa hat and googly eyes and TEN copies of Private Eye. Excellent. Luckily then Jon returned so that we could get the hell out of Tesco’s before we were thrown out. So,Gabriel’s entire shop would have resulted in; A pumpkin,Two Take a Break crossword books, A box of chocolate muffins, a double headed axe with blood dripping off it, two water squirters, Two Ladybird bluetooth speakers, a tin of dog food, one potato, one leek, a cheeky festive cactus and ten copies of Private Eye. Just the essentials then. ‘See’ I said to Jon. ‘Next time he’s going in the trolley!!!!!’
So October 10th was Mental Health Day. I celebrated this by being mental. By that I mean I’m still struggling. I have good days and bad days. A massive thing I find that helps alongside writing here is compiling a list in my mind of all the things I am grateful for as It forces me to look at the positives. I am grateful that I still look for the humour and funny side in situations (I married Jon didn’t I?!) I am grateful for having Jon because he makes me laugh on a daily basis (not just at him) I am grateful for the fantastic sense of humour he has (he married me didn’t he?!) and that whatever happens we always have the ability to make each other laugh.I always think someone should film him for a reality show because you couldn’t make up some of the random stuff he does. I am also grateful this bizarre sense of humour seems to have come out in our children. My mother in law constantly comments on how ‘wacky’ they are. I love that as I think one of the most important things in life and to keep you sane when you are feeling ‘mental’ is to be able to laugh. They say it’s the best medicine and who doesn’t feel better after they’ve laughed til they cried. I have done this AT Jon on so many occasions. The other day I said I was worried I had nothing to write on here and that I would bore people. He said ‘Just write about me’ (bighead) . So I am, and hoping that around a time when we are being reminded that so many of us struggle with mental illnesses and visit dark places, that I am massively grateful for someone who can light mine.
HA that got your attention. I speak in bird terms though as I am enjoying a hot cup of tea out of my favourite Emma Bridgewater cock mug. When I drink out of them I like to pretend I live some country living lifestyle where I happily make jam wearing arran jumpers and laze around by a fire wrapped in tartan blankets and all my clutter looks intended rather than just clutter. My children romp in the garden idyllically amongst the chickens and my glorious hydrangea wall. NOT SO,Angelina has just woken me up at the crack of dawn by doing a poo. Well, not by doing it the event wasn’t that noisy (now i’m imagining that toilet scene in Austin Powers. There were a few times as a baby she brought that scene to mind, it was always so unnerving that she felt the need to make eye contact and maintain it whilst going bright red and straining. Had to have a chat with Jon about it as well but that’s another post) It was the calling for help afterwards. Which is fine but I was slightly perturbed as being Saturday I was hoping for a lie in. Normally we get awoken by Gabriel around 6 am screaming DADA MAMA which escalates louder and louder until a massive crescendo when neither of us can take it anymore and we give in and go and get him. However, the last couple of mornings we have figured out that if we turn his night light off, the mornings are darker now and he doesn’t wake up so early. BOOM! So, of course the morning I wanted to take advantage of this, Angelina’s bowels wake me up instead. So I shuffled downstairs and made a cup of tea. In my cock mug. I have a small collection of these gorgeous take a mortgage out to buy mugs. All gifts and lucky finds at TKMaxx (God bless that place but also God Damn it for its temptations) but because it’s us they generally all seem to have a comedy element so we can giggle when we give someone a ‘Great Tit’ , what man doesn’t like great tits? My personal favourite is the ‘Cock’ but if someone has been annoying, I smugly present them with ‘The Great Bustard’ Mainly, I do give this one to Jon.Yes.
I don’t know what it is about Emma Bridgewater but there is definitely a good feeling that comes from having a few of her pieces. Aside from the double entendres we manage to find from her pottery. They certainly make you feel like you are buying into a lifestyle (which they should at their price! A millionaires preferably) There is one of her mugs on my wishlist that says ‘Happiness is a cup of Tea and Country Living Magazine’ and to me that is exactly it. My cock mug enables me both and I love it.
Footnote here…Whilst I was trying to write this Jon was doing squats and lunges right next to me, commando in his pyjamas and then pushing me round the room on the desk chair whilst I was trying to write. HOW CAN I WORK IN THESE CONDITIONS??? He’s definitely getting the Great Bustard Mug.
For my birthday, Jon bought me a fabulous sweatshirt. It’s made by the company ‘Hush’ (www.hush-uk.com) and is a limited edition (the first thousand sold out so chuffed to get hold of one) made to support breast cancer charities. £37 out of £45 went to charity so I feel really proud to wear it, aside from the fact it’s gorgeous and snuggly. I think it’s a fab idea and a generous donation. It’s pale grey with the word ‘LUCKY’ across the chest.
I’m hoping that as well as supporting charidee wearing this fab sloppy joe will turbo charge me in the laws of attraction. By this I don’t mean making me more attractive (although if that’s an option I would certainly pay £45 quid for that) but seeing if there is anything to this positive thinking/cosmic ordering/manifestation jazz. The law of attraction (according to several books I have discovered on Amazon Kindle and that crinkly bottomed beardy Noel Edmonds) is that you attract what you focus on or what you put out into the universe (Cosmic, I hear you say in a Rodney Trotter voice) Manifesting is thinking/focusing and believing that something you want is already the case. Obviously some wires got crossed in Jon’s case when he manifested having a big knob he accidentally manifested BEING big knob, so he needs to work on that and maybe put in a call to Edmonds. For example, the principle is that if you want to be a very confident person you would constantly imagine yourself as a confident person. You would play scenarios in your head where you were being confident, you tell yourself that you are confident and thus you shall manifest confidence. The trick is, according to these books, not to believe that these gifts of tangible things like say cars, or money, or qualities like health or confidence are COMING to you but that you ALREADY possess them. You will it by believing it. All you have to do is ask by putting the vibe of what you want out there. Now I’m not endorsing these concepts or saying that they work, (unlike Edmonds who really milked it and reckoned his career and life revival was thanks to his cosmic ordering) but as with most things I’m willing to give it a go (Jon just snorted at that.don’t ask) So, I’m putting out there that I’m lucky, and in so many ways I already am, which I am so grateful for but I don’t think one can ever have enough good luck! So, get a load of my chest universe, lets see what you can do!
This week has been tough. The problem with CFS is that you know if you attempt to do anything fun, or stay up late whilst throwing some seriously great shapes on the dance floor you WILL suffer for it. So this party aftermath has left me exhausted, aching and run down which has led to me having a raging sore throat virus. Still, I have no regrets because the party was fabulous. A clear measure of it’s fabulousness was when it reached the point the girls started singing Barbra Streisand power ballads into wooden spoons, passing them round dutifully like the baton, that when in your hand bestows you with the embodiment of passion of say ‘Jennifer Rush’ singing ‘The Power of Love’. We naturally spread into a circular formation, as though our invisible handbags were marking the spot and we solidified our sisterhood right there and it was a beautiful thing. Except to all the men who were standing around rolling their eyes. There was a brief moment I thought some key swapping may happen (the tone was set early on with the in laws discussing ‘dogging’, I’m not entirely sure my mother in law grasped the true activities involved and that it wasn’t simply ‘taking your dog for a long walk’. I swerved this at the end by making myself a cup of decaff tea. But all in all some true friendships have been set in stone I feel and that is a fantastic feeling. (Keys in the bowl next time though yeah?) I also got to wear a gorgeous disco ball dress that doesn’t see the light of day often. No one dresses up anymore and I think that is a huge shame. There is so much fun to be had with clothes. Not so long ago whilst soul searching I was frustrated and felt envious of people who had a passion for something as I felt I didn’t have one. When I was at primary school I wanted to be a fashion designer and I would buy The Clothes Show magazine with my pocket money and design outfits. At college and teenage years I would never want to look like anyone else.I would wear whatever I wanted and what felt good to wear. I wore leather trousers to college (way ahead of my time if you were to check out every fashion blogger’s wardrobe these days) although my influence back then was Jim Morrison! and yes I did get laughed at and bullied for what I used to wear. A leather lace up corset for nights out (yes there is a theme developing I see,but that bad boy got me a lot of free drinks though 😉 Or a funky hat. Then when my illness hit and my body was broken and my depression set in and my mind was broken I could not bring myself to wear anything that made me feel fabulous. I felt my body didn’t deserve it and I was too tired to wear anything other than tracksuit bottoms or leggings. On bad days I still revert to these things, the ease and the comfort of wearing them seem to comfort my ills. So,now on the whole I’m pushing through and I’m rediscovering that I do have a passion and it is putting outfits together. Obviously I have others like world peace but I’ll expand on those if I ever get made Miss World. For now, I love to wear colours and sparkles. I love wearing a cool hat (no one wears hats anymore!) I think about what mood I’m in, who I’m channeling, what feels good to put on, and that is my therapy, my push to get me up and facing the day that hasn’t always been something I could do. It’s along the same principles as one of my idols along with Marilyn, Liz Taylor said Sadly, my drink of choice in the morning is tea not scotch but you get my drift. How I dress is how I can express my creativity and my identity in a phase where I could easily fade into being just wife and mother. Long live the sparkly dresses and fab hats and let’s give ourselves more opportunities to wear them! On an ending note you may be wondering how I am getting on with my Slendertone arm toners. Due to not being tip top I have only managed a few sessions , and due to the nature of wildly and uncontrollable flinging my arms around like a sixties girl in a field on a large amount of drugs and feeling the age of Aquarius in her veins, I can’t do much else while I’m using them, so I used them, while I watched the bake off last week. Cranked them up a little too high which was a bad idea, as the electric shockwaves vaulted through my arms, forcing me to do mexican waves everytime Flora did her irritating pained expression everytime she knows she’s buggered it up because she didn’t do what she was told AGAIN and covered her entire bake in f@@king macaroons AGAIN! I realised what I had actually done was a self imposed Anthony Burgess Clockwork Orange style aversion therapy to the Bake off. So from now on if anyone offers me A: A macaroon, B:Paul Hollywood or C:Ruining perfectly good cakes by smugly adding your home grown herbs to, I cannot be responsible for my limbs and may punch you in the face.See,Ultraviolence! Let’s leave this on a sparkly note though, ‘Never let anyone (or anything) Dull your sparkle…
Ugh, I am awake and I have been since 3.42 this morning. Around four hours sleep. I tried desperately to go back to sleep, counting all sorts of things in my head, but it was no use. So here I am , with a cup of tea, already dreading how I am going to feel (and look)come 8am let alone as the day goes on! An overactive mind is a massive pain in the bottom. I can never switch the damn thing off. I don’t even come down at this time and have my best ‘flashes of inspiration’ like some, I have flashes of ..well nothing. I often wonder what it feels like to be someone who gets into bed, says goodnight, the brain shuts off and they have 9 hours of deep refreshing sleep. A man basically. Jon can sleep anywhere, on anything with anything going on around him. I am ridiculously envious. When he is asleep he is completely dead to the world and oblivious to everything. I try to contain my jealousy but sometimes my bitterness seeks revenge…. see you in a couple of hours people! I’ll be the one in dark glasses so huge even Jackie O would say ‘HMM They’re a bit big’