I tell you what, I’m cocky to the core sometimes!
I woke up this morning and despite going to bed feeling like utter shite, I felt surprisingly normal. Well my version of normal, not yours, i.e. I didn’t feel like I’d been unstrapped in the back of an ambulance during a 90mph 5 hour mountain chase but I still felt sore and tired. Normal levels of tiredness and pain after such a smashin day yesterday? I’ll take that! I mean I didn’t spring out of bed singing “walking on sunshine” but that would have been unnecessarily jovial for 5am anyway, regardless of it being Sunday or not. I only had to apply minimal reverse ninja moves to roll out of bed and didn’t make that deflating accordion noise as I did so… I thought I’d cracked it.
I was SO cocky that I ordered Christiaan back to sleep at 5am this morning when Eli wanted to get up. I said I would get up and look after the little arsehole on my own and give him a chance just to rest. He rarely gets that chance you know. I get to stop, all the time and I know I have good reason to but everyone, regardless of what they’ve got going on in life deserves a wee bit of chill the fuck out time and he always seems to be the one that sacrifices his. He’d never say it, and I know reading this will spark a conversation tonight where he’ll try and reassure me but I know, and he knows that all of this horseshit tires him too. It’s something I worry about a lot; I’m the same person I’ve always been in terms of my personality so it’s not like he’s married someone different (unlucky for him hah!), but I have all of these caveats now and life is just far more fucking complicated than it should be – it’s not what either of us planned or wanted. It’s a massive detour in life that we’d not really expected but fuck it, we love each other, I can say that with huge confidence, so we’ll wade through all of this shit and STILL laugh about it. It’s just not as easy for him as it is for most other blokes and I’m really aware of that.
Anyway, back to the getting up thing. Bollockchops and I had a really lovely couple of hours just pottering, he was in a calm self content mood and quite happy to go with the flow watching telly and playing fucking jigsaws again. It’s a big change from the last few months where he’s woken up manic and like a psycho so I was chuffed to see the change. I had a cuppa while it was still warm and Christiaan got to sleep that wee bit longer. The sun rise was spectacular this morning, if you’re on the Facebook page you’ll have seen these pics already but if not here we go: it was a model Sunday really.
Christiaan got up just after 7 looking panic stricken because he hadn’t meant to sleep so late. Our life really is tragic when we consider 7am on a Sunday as late but Eli has never really been a late sleeper, he’s always woken with the first sparrow fart so by 7am we’ve often done 2 hours of our first shift. We got dressed and headed out, because I was feeling COCKY, I was having a normal day, not a bad day, so why the fuck not? Now when I say we went out, don’t picture us going abseiling or owt; Christiaan took one car load to the tip to get rid of the never ending supply of Amazon cardboard boxes we accumulate because I refuse to go to real life shops and order everything online, and I took the other car to Sainbo’s with the wee man. I wasn’t going shopping on my own though, don’t be mental – I gave Christiaan a head start and he met me there. Normal day or not it’s FAR easier wrestling with a 2 year old and shopping when you have someone to help you! Upstairs for thinking, downstairs for dancing people.
So I pull into the Sainbo’s car park looking for Christiaan, he wasn’t there. It was easy to spot he wasn’t there because it was 9am on a Sunday (the shops open normal times on a Sunday in Scotland) and no fucker was there, except Eli and I. I genuinely couldn’t understand where he was, I’d been waylaid by a neighbour on the way out the house so I was a good 10 minutes later than I had expected to be… he should have been here by now. Now this, THIS is where having brain fog is an absolute killer. Even on a normal day my brain isn’t entirely clear, I forget things that have happened a relatively short time ago like conversations, events, whether I’ve put sweetener in my tea already etc. At work I have to write EVERYTHING down to try and hide the fact that I struggle to remember the basics sometimes. So I was sat in that fucking car park wondering where exactly I’d told my husband to meet us because it clearly wasn’t Sainsbo’s…. Asda maybe, Hawaii, the arsehole end of the moon? Fucked if I knew. I rummaged in bag to find my phone, which was, as always, right at the bottom in the folds of the bag labia (you know the bit I mean, where the satin bit just kind of crumples and swallows stuff) and saw he’d text to say he was in B & Q car park, just round the corner a bit. See I’d mentioned to Christiaan we may as well go and get the bedding plants for the shit hole of a garden while we were in the retail park of doom; so he’d gone there first…. because that’s where I’d told him we’d go first. Fucks sake. Anyway, we found each other and had a gentle 15 mins wandering around picking up plants – I’ve no fucking idea what I’ve bought to be fair, they’ll flower and cheer the place up a bit and therefore they’ll do. We drove the 200 meters back round to the Sainsbo’s car park to pick up literally a handful of bits and 10 minutes later we were on our way home again. So, I was out for 1 hour and 10 minutes in total and about 30 mins of that was the driving each way, which to be fair is mostly being sat down and flapping your feet, except…. well except when you meet cyclists on the road home, then it’s like a massive game of concentration as you try and keep the car in first gear while not running them over.
I know it’s controversial but fuck me do I hate cyclists. If you’re a cyclist I don’t hate you as a person, but I DO hate you when you get on a bike and I reckon it’s mutual because the majority of cyclists I talk to hate drivers n all. It’s a relationship that will never ever be harmonious. Especially while there are narrow farm roads with blind summits, bends, no passing points and an over-riding arrogance from both drivers and the cyclists that they own the fucking road. Now don’t get me wrong, I feel for them trying to peddle their often skinny arses up a steep fucking hill on two wheels; it defies gravity, but my own impatience normally makes that a very short lived moment of empathy. They CHOSE to do it, they’ve woken up on a Sunday morning and thought “TODAY I SHALL CYCLE FOR LEISURE PURPOSES”. These hills don’t sneak up on you, they’ve always been there and probably always will be and yet I pass the same fucking people week in and week out looking like they’ve been caught out and are STILL struggling to get up the bastard hills. This is why cyclists piss me off. A huge number are cycling on busy roads as a form of personal endurance! It’s not about getting to Morrisons for a pint of milk, or dropping off diabetes medicine to Jean on the farm so she doesn’t die, it’s for fun or to get fit or to PROVE they can. So they’re dragging their arses up the hill for no other reason than it suits them to and we’re all sat that there like fanny’s behind then worrying the Magnums are melting in the back. There is nothing more tragic than a refrozen Magnum after it has melted – it’s life changing and not in a good way.
That’s not to say I don’t think cycling should be enjoyed by the way, or even challenging if that’s what you want – but take yourself off up a big bastard hill that ISN’T a busy potentially life limiting road, go and cycle along the deserted countryside, coastline, wherever…. just not on the back road to and from Morrisons where people may kill you, or themselves by trying to overtake you amidst sheer frustration.
So today, on the way home from shopping I got stuck behind a luminous yellow lycra arse the whole way back; there’s only one road in and out of the village so we’ve no other option but to endure this frustration on nearly every journey we make. The poor bloke had a good 5 stone to lose, had a massive arse and was sweating more than Lee Evans in a clay oven. It was a bold look and not one I was applauding him for as I crawled behind him in 1st gear. He made it though, he got to the top of the last hill and there was only half a mile of traffic behind him all weeping in frustration so I guess we could all say that was a success couldn’t we? No we fucking couldn’t and any momentary admiration was blighted by the fact he didn’t even stop at the give way sign further down the road…. he just floated on past it almost causing an accident. Now I know some of you will be up in arms at this point “not all cyclists are like him, some of us have smaller arses/can cycle up hills/abide by the highway code!” I don’t care, as my mum used to say “one can spoil it for all” so you’ve got him, and the dozens of other cyclists who use the roads round here like they’re invisible to thank for me being bitter and twisted towards lycra clothed exercisists (no that’s not a real word).
Anyway, my point, before I went downhill on a tirade of fury was that it delayed my journey and by this point pay back had tapped me on the shoulder and whispered “Sorry I’m late, I was stuck behind that cognitive lycra clad arsehole on a bike”. Marvellous. By the time I got home, later than scheduled thanks to lumi-arse peddler, my legs were shaking and I was fucked. I knew when I was putting Eli down for his nap that pay back had well and truly arrived, I was struggling to stay awake and didn’t think I was going to have the energy to get up and put him in his cot. I managed thankfully but when I walked downstairs Christiaan took one look at me and said I should go to bed, and he’s right, I should have, but I didn’t I had THINGS I wanted to do (looking for a new coat) and sleep wasn’t one of them so I was a tit and stayed up. Well I stayed up until I started shutting down, which was just before 3 – I should really start listening to Christiaan. I still don’t have a new coat.
An hour later and my alarm went off and I pulled my arse out of bed. I could have slept all afternoon but I’d have missed Eli’s dinner time, bath time and bed time and I’m fucked if I’m missing that last cosy cuddle of the day with him, it’s precious.
So I’m up and I’m paying for yesterday, I know that. I knew last night that I was going to and that’s why I was SO surprised to wake up not feeling too horrendous this morning. It’s shit and it’s not fair but that’s just the way life is so I guess there’s nothing to do bar get on with it. The same things always go through my brain at moments like this though; why are there so few medical professionals taking this seriously? I mean it’s better than it was but there is SO little known about a condition that’s been around since the Victorian era, it’s madness. I hear of so many people being dismissed as being lazy, or being refused pain relief from their docs because it’s all “in their head” – let me tell you here and now, no one would choose to live like this. I get that there are people who take the piss out of the NHS, fucking hell you see them everywhere, but look at the demographic and there tends to be a pattern… look at people with M.E. or CFS as it’s also known and you have people from ALL walks of life. People who have achieved amazing things, who have had hugely busy fulfilling lives, who have been happy and content with their lot have had it snatched away just as much as someone who has had very little. M.E. spans every perceived class, gender and sexuality – it gives none of the fucks of what you have or don’t have, it takes it all regardless.
That’s why this blog is SO important to me, it lets me tell you about this shitty condition in a way that’s one directional. I’m talking at you and you don’t have to pretend you know what to say. You can choose to read or not read, it’s in your hands. The response I’m getting to writing the blog has been incredible though, I know I mention it a lot, but I genuinely didn’t expect people to be interested or to keep reading so I am continually shocked at the numbers when I look at the stats. I am also over the fucking moon to say we have now broken the 500 mark on the Facebook page – last time I looked a few hours back we were at 503 which is staggering.
So I’ll keep writing, I enjoy it, it seems some of you enjoy it to so why not?
For now though, I’m switching off and I’m shutting down for the night sooooooooo
- Christiaan had the chance to actually have a longer lie this morning hoooray!
- Eli has been on really good form
- We got plants n shit
- I got out again
- Payback has kicked me in the flaps
- I’m solo parenting for the next 2 days and not entirely sure how it’s going to go
- I had to go back to bed… fucks sake
- Whats on the menu Mellars?
- Breakfast – melon and yoghurt
- Lunch – a tiny bit of pasta with some left over pepper sauce from last night
- Dinner – Chicken dinner, it was epic