Routine

I saw the following on 4rthur and had to share. Written so eloquently by sick_boy:

“I like routines. They are comfort in a world where, as an adult, it is not acceptable to carry around a ragged blue blanket and rub it against your cheek when things go wrong. They are also a yardstick with which to measure life’s exceptions and excitement. There is, however, one part of my daily commute that renders me a little uneasy. About half way down Boyne road (a leafy terraced suburban idyll) on my daily constitutional to the station I pass a cat. It is a longhaired cat with lots of patches of colour on its furry little coat. This cat has a routine that clashes with mine. Around 7:45am Mr Cat climbs onto his pedestal atop the brick gatepost and sets about his vigorous daily bum licking exercise. He goes about it with some gusto. He is a very thorough cat.
Every morning (inclement weather asides) our eyes meet, he pauses, blinks, I nod and for one moment there seems to be perfect understanding between man and beast. Albeit a quiet, uneasy understanding where, through my anthropomorphic paranoia, we both know that I wish I could perform the same feat on myself. And so we both set about our ways, though I am sure he doesn’t post messages on a cat message board about a Scottish pervert who pauses to watch him lick his anus each morning.”

Where the hell have you been, missy?

Do I even remember that I have a weblog?
I do, but it seems I have writers block. The last few weeks have been pretty much the same as before, I still have nausea and headaches, and I still feel as though I was given a lobotomy in my sleep at some point. I think I’ve put off writing because it’s the same old, same old. It has taken me six weeks to come up with anything, and that ‘anything’ is just me saying I’m still here.
About a million years ago, I worked as an Occupational Therapy Helper in a stroke rehab unit. I remember wading through a textbook one time to find out what something was called, and was most impressed when I found the term “spatial relations apraxia”. I think I have it, although not for the reasons that people who’ve had strokes get it. Basically, it means that when you go to touch something, you miss. (How the hell does one explain this with Effexorbrain?) Someone holds out a pen and asks you to touch the tip. You see the tip, you reach out, but for some inextricable reason, the place where you confidently land is six inches away from the pen. It’s known as ‘past pointing’, and I’m sick of my brain not realising where stuff is. Every damn thing I type needs numerous corrections. Maybe that’s why I’ve stopped posting, because it’s too much of an effort to get the words onto the screen without screwing it up. Every time I screw up, I feel like a failure. It’s all little things, but they add up.
Having said all that, I’m going to have a bash at re-designing the site, so apologies if it looks like shit for a while. I will be back with a shiny new syle-sheet, and a clean contemporary look (hopefully). If not, I’ve saved the style-sheets, and can always try again when someone injects me with brain cells again.

Thinking

I realised something this morning. I’m almost four months Efexor free.
I also realised that I’m four months Efexor free and still experiencing withdrawal symptoms. Not the raging in-yer-face symptoms that I had when I first started – they’ve definitely abated – but silly things like clumsiness and memory loss. I get my words mixed up sometimes, and my moods are up and down like the proverbial yo-yo.
There have been times that my mood has been so low that I’ve thought I’m slipping down into depression again. Then there’s been the times where I’ve felt incredibly happy, blaming it all on the warm Spring weather (see previous post) and the new garden bench on the patio. Yesterday was classic. I got up, felt really miserable, even though the sun was shining brightly and it promised to be a warm sunny day. I ended up in tears over my hair. It’s short and easy to do, but I was hot and my scalp started sweating, I think in hindsight I was scared that the Efexor Sweats were coming back. I couldn’t get going at all. I lost my temper in Ikea when Ginger put on his usual “I hate shopping” face and answered every question with “ugh”. He seems to think it’ll make me ignore whatever I’m asking about and move on, but we’ve been talking a lot about home improvements lately, and I obviously want his opinion on things. Once we got home, we went into the garden, and I mowed the lawn (which now looks horrible because I’d put some of that weed & feed stuff on last week). I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the garden with the cats, rescuing Minnie from a stand off between her and a wasp, but generally relaxing and feeling happy.
Ginger has a theory that I got upset because I knew I was going somewhere with people – Ikea. It makes total sense. I have a tendency to get flustered or upset before events like that. I don’t know. What I do know is that I tend to ‘over-think’ sometimes.
It’s a thought…

Way to go, Jen!

I just wanted to reserve a small part of cyberspace to say “congratulations!” to my friend, Jen, who recently passed her bar exam, and is now a fully fledged lawyer.
Jen – may all your cases be interesting and rewarding, and may all your clients pay top dollar 🙂

October already

October. Good grief – where did the year go? More importantly, where did Summer go???
I now realise that I should not have put off cutting the lawn. When I look outside and think, “I may need to wait until Spring to cut it again”, I could cry.
I have hung on to Summer. Clung to its warmth like some security blanket, because I know how miserable I’m going to be come Winter. My back aches, reminding me of the facet joints I damaged seven years ago. My circulation goes stupid on me, and my fingers either swell up, or shrink into a shrivelled old womans. I don’t do cold. I’d rather be too hot than too cold. I know that by the end of October, I am moving into a phase where I loose the feeling in my feet for three months. However, most scary is the impending winter depression. I know it’s coming, which could be a double edged sword, because knowing its coming is making me miserable.
*sigh*
This post was not supposed to be a miserable one. I guess there’s a bit of free associative writing going on there.
October 1st marks the start of the second annual Blogger boobie-thon, which aims to raise money for the Susan G Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. If you are nervous about notarising your norks, then you can simply make a donation via the website.
The UK’s Breast Cancer Campaign doesn’t start until the 31st October, but I’ve seen pink ribbons in lots of stores already, and stores such as Debenhams and Ann Summers have other promotions too.

comments thingy

My comments link doesn’t work. I can’t figure out why, but I think it’s to do with Javascript, which I am a complete virgin at.
I’m still busy turning my house upside down with paint and stuff, but I’ve added a ‘contact me’ link on the left, in case anyone has any burning comments to make.

Dug out…

I’ve not been on any more jaunts, but I have spent a good 2 hours digging the front garden.
I say garden, what I mean is a small square of lawn, about 9 square meters, which I have been trying to dig a border into. I blogged about this a while ago, but I’d only gotten as far as lifting sod. I’ve avoided tackling this job, simply because it is such bloody hard work.
However, today, I decided to finish it off. I had a nice chat with my neighbour, then took a deep breath and weilded my fork.
As I expected, I picked out many more stones, and at one point wondered how far the foundations of my house came out… However, the earth is turned over and neat, and tomorrow it’s off to Homebase to get some compost and sharp sand to dig into it.
I hurt already. God, I so hurt. What was all this crap about my garden being a blank canvas? I was sodding deluded. Don’t get me wrong – I love my garden, but I wish I were stronger and had more stamina. Like Arnold Schwarzenegger.
(If anyone has the ability to grant this wish, please can I have a nice svelte body too? Ta.)

“Face your fears”

Well, that wasn’t so bad.
The thing he pressed on the most, is that avoidance is reinforcing the fear. I have to face my fears for this agoraphobia to go away. So, that means just getting off my arse and going outside. I am going to make a plan. However, for it to work, I have to stress that I thrive on praise and positive reinforcement. Yes, I know I am doing it for me but having been in a place where apathy sets in, I know how much it helps when Ginger says, “you did really well today”
I’ll detail my plan later today on here.