Wednesday the 29th of August 2018
This time next week I’ll be WORKING. Actual work, with real people and problems, and shouty bits and laughy bits and EVERYTHING. I’ll be sat in my office, (which is now all sorted in terms of dark curtains by the way) and I’ll be logged onto the network and I’ll be doing it. I’ll be singing Dolly Parton better than Dolly Parton sings Dolly Parton. I’ll b working 9-5 trying to make 11.
Fuck me it seems like SUCH a long time ago that I went off poorly…. and it was. It was allllllllllllll the way back in April. I remember thinking at the time that I just needed to rest a bit and catch my breath and then I’d be back. Clearly I am a fucking idiot because here we are, 5 months down the line, and I must be the only fucking person in the world who gets worse when they add rest and relaxation into their days. Why the fuck can I not just follow the same rules as every other fucker? I tell you why; it’s because I’m a massive web of arseholery and stubbornness.
I have NO idea how next week is going to go; on paper it really shouldn’t be insurmountable but then neither should putting on socks and I make that look like an olympic sport. I SHOULD just need to walk from my living room to my office, sit down, open my laptop and let the fun begin for a few ours before shutting down and “resting” again. Sounds easy innit? We’ll soon fucking see! I’ll be building my hours up over the course of 6 weeks until I’m back working my full time hours but I have no idea what shit and shenanigans are in store. I guess the real work comes when the phased return to work finishes and I’m sat there trying to be an all singing, all dancing member of my working community. Except, I’m a bit like a new iPhone now…. the latest software update has left me with LESS functionality and more limitations. Sure, I look thinner and sleeker but really I’m a bit fucking clunky and not used to the “way of the world” yet. In short, the previous version may have looked bigger but worked better.
I’ve no doubt it’ll take people a wee while to realise I’m back and I’m NOT going at 100mph as I usually would; and I reckon I have long road of gently educating those I work with ahead of me. Now don’t get me wrong, I will not be preaching to anyone. No one wants to be sat down and lectured about illness they don’t have – fuck me, I would be bored out of my brain if someone tried to “educate” me on something I have v little interest in. So, I need to take it slow and steady and hope that some of the things I tell them stay in their brains. Not just for me, but for anyone who may cross their path in the future with a chronic illness. I’ve accepted what’s going on and I’m living around it, and I guess I need them to understand that people can be back at work with limitations and still be doing a good job.
I’m ready for the “are you feeling better” questions which I know will come thick and fast within hours of my return. I work with hundreds of people and am fairly close to a significant number of those on a day to day basis so my first few days will absolutely be touching base and putting my feelers out to what the scope of my work will be over the next few months, but before I get there I need to do the dance that is ALL expected of us when we speak to someone we haven’t for a while…..”the catch up” questions. Last time round the “are you feeling better” made me feel uncomfortable and I was a tit because I didn’t want to be seen as anything other than perfect. I felt awkward and I wanted the conversation to pass quickly so I just said “getting there yeah”. It was a massive mistake because people just heard “yeah”, said something like “oh I’m chuffed now do you reckon you could help me with this?”, and I let it go and agreed to help – because it’s my job. Then I moved onto the next in line and then the next thing, or the next thing, or then piling more work on myself and then… well you know what happened then. Over the course of a few months I cream crackered myself, crashed and here we are and you know what? People were SO surprised I was struggling when I told them; I realised I’d hidden far too much for the sake of my own pride. So, this time round, I need to play it differently, I have my stock answer of “No, but I’m fighting my way back to better” which I’m hoping gives them a short answer they’re happy with, that reminds them I’m not all good and well but I am here and trying. I don’t want people feeling sorry for me, but I guess I do need them to understand how I work now.
The biggest challenge of going back to work though, won’t be other people; it’ll be me. I need to calm the fuck down, stop trying to convince the world and his next door neighbours goldfish that I am completely FINE. I’m an arsehole and I’m here living this version of life because my illness is a bigger arsehole than I am – I’m going to stop fighting with it and start working WITH it. Life does not need to be over, but it does need to be different and it’s me who needs the biggest education on that; not the people I work with. I dunno what it looks like but I do know that I need to schedule in regular rest periods, not take on too much and remember there are no awards for doing “the most”. There’s no fucking need. I cannot make everyone happy; I am not pizza.
So, yeah, I’m excited and apprehensive and also really curious to see what’s been happening since I’ve been off. Our company makes bold moves fast and it often means that as a management team we’re stuck in spin cycle trying to work it all out. There’s a lot of planning, replanning and then back to the drawing board again work when the landscape changes again. It’s hard graft, but give me that any time over a day with Eli in the mood he was in yesterday.
FUCK ME was that child a dick. Now, I love him, you know I love him, I know I love him but yesterday I could have happily gaffer taped him to a wall… with some extra tape over his gob and drank bottles of wine in another room. He woke up in a tit of mood, he was whiney and if I heard “my don’t want to” or “my don’t like that one” one more fucking time I was going to lose my mind. In fact I did. Several times. I had to keep leaving the room for a few minutes to calm down after shouting at him. Yes, I shouted at my child. Phone the social. He was a dick at my folks in the morning, crying and grumbling, he was a dick when he refused to nap and instead soaked his bed and his toys with his own fucking saliva… how do you even do that???? He was a dick when I dragged my arse to the tiny soft play at the swimming pool and let him run wild because he didn’t want to leave but also DID want to leave… but he was the biggest dick of all when we got home. I was dead on my feet yesterday for reasons that will become clear a bit further on and he’d just been tap dancing on my nerves all fucking day. He’d been saying he needed the toilet every half hour, so as a result we’d spent most of the day on the fucking toilet with him refusing to do owt. He’d fart and then declare himself finished and want a chocolate button for his efforts. Bravo son, bravo… now.. where’s the turd that I can smell hiding in the background? “MY DON’T LIKE THE TOILET. My get off now. Put me down now.” over and over a-fucking-gain. I was convinced he was constipated. CONVINCED. Especially as we’d made it all the way to bed time and he still wouldn’t shit. He woke up after being asleep for an hour at night screaming and sweating and I thought “aye aye, here we go…. it’s coming”. It didn’t come. He just went back into bed after a change of jammas and some calpol and fell asleep again. At midnight when he woke up screaming again I thought “right, we’re on”… but he went back to sleep before I’d even got out of bed. Now, like many others, I’m always looking for reasons when my wee ray of sunshine and hilarity isn’t his normal self, but this morning when he curled out a nice soft, well formed turd I was forced to accept that he is just a savage. There’s been nowt wrong with him. He just fancied being a dick for a day. Well played laddo, well played. Now off to nursery and you can be a dick for someone else. Mummy needs to steep in tea and her own tears of desperation.
He’s not always a dick though, we actually had a really lovely weekend with him. On Saturday there was a local gala by my brothers house, just a small do but there was bouncy castles and he was having a great time with his cousins playing. I was able to sit on the grass and watch, and he was able to run free and seemingly push 5 year olds off an inflatable ladder so he could do this:
He has not a bit of fear in him this kid. I love it. He’d stormed past a dozen kids twice his size and technically shouldn’t have even been on this fucking slide but…. well… FUN innit. Oh fuck me, yes I do parent him, I promise…. I knew he’d be fine.
I was absolutely fucking shattered by the time we got back home 2 hours later but it was well worth it. He LOVED it, my folks were there, some of his cousins were there, there was music and sweets and loads of space for him to run around in – it was ideal. Well until all the other kids wanted to play on his “trampoline” (the slide thingy), then he threw a shit storm of a fit and refused to wait his turn, so we had to remove him before he rammed them all out the way again. Honestly, that kid has absolutely no fucking patience at all. I blame his father.
Sunday needed to be an easier day for me after my 2 hours of excitement the day before, so other than his swimming lesson we did fuck all and were quite happy to snuggle up on the sofa and watch films. I LOVE a rainy day when there’s no pressure to do anything. Staying in and cosy with a toddler is normally a complete fucking challenge right enough, but on Sunday this wee man just wanted to get under the blanket with me and watch “Doggies” (Pets Life)…. done deal innit. Maybe he was winding up to turd-gate?
We’d kind of needed that on Sunday because I’d already decided that we were doing SOMETHING on Monday. It was a bank holiday, Christiaan was off work and all of the older kids were back at school…. we needed to make the most of it. It’s hard though, planning days out that don’t have a lot of walking but do have a lot to see and entertain bollockchops; in fact it can be near on fucking impossible. I generally end up sat somewhere on my tod while young un and Christiaan go off and explore and it’s not what any of us want – I miss out on loads, and they miss out on me being there. It is not a win win.
What IS a win win though, is the motherfucking safari park! Sitting down in the car looking at animals? I’M IN! So that’s where we went. Eli was all kinds of excited which was mental to be honest because he’s no idea what a safari park was and what it entailed but that’s just toddlers innit? He gets excited about EVERYTHING. Anyway, he was convinced we were going to the jungle and as we pulled up after an hour he saw the signs with the lions and giraffes etc on it and LOST HIS FUCKING MIND. Oh my GAWD, he went apeshit; it was really lovely to see him like that actually and I had to keep reminding myself of his wee face yesterday when he was being an utter twat.
So there I was, in the car, with my sunglasses on while it pissed it down with rain and you know what? The animals gave not one fuck. Not one. Eli didn’t care and Christiaan didn’t care and we were all together sharing a new experience. It was epic. It even stopped raining for long enough for Eli to have a wee play at the play park bit AND see some giraffes on the viewing platform. In fact the giraffes are the only bit he’ll mention when we speak to him about the trip – one pissed on the ground and it made his day but he had decided it was “Vay vay naughty because pee pee’s go in the toilet Mummy”. Can’t argue with that wee man, that giraffe is clearly a lazy bastard. His mother should be ashamed.
Here’s some pics from the last few days to prove that my tiny Kim Jong Un can fool anyone into thinking he’s an angel…oh and some cracking pics from the bedroom window over the last few days. Yep, I know, we’re lucky. I agree.
In other big news, circus hair is back. I have no idea how to get rid of this fucking thing permanently. I also have no idea why I need a wrist pube. What good is one solitary black hair on my wrist? I mean, give me a wrist beard and I can probably do something with that… scare kids or make a pirate face or summit but one hair? Not good enough. I can’t make a fucking wrist pirate out of one bastard hair can I? I’m going to pluck the fucker later but here, for posterity:
I did wonder if these black hairs would fuck off once I had my diet and weight under control, they say it’s linked to testosterone don’t they? It turns out though I’m either slowly turning into a man, one wrist hair at a time or I’m just destined to be a chubby (not fat) hairy bird. I’ve been tested for PCOS before and that came back clear so I guess mother nature has something in mind that I’m gonna need my hairy norks, toes, chin and wrist for. I have no fucking idea what such an event could be. Winter? Maybe she’s shagging Jon Snow…
Talking about diet, I shifted another pound this week. I had wanted it to be more, in fact it should have been more but it’s my Dr Alban Week (think about it…. OK… CLICK HERE IF YOU HAVE NO IDEA) and I reckon my ovaries are all sad and shit. I was on plan, in fact I’d eaten a lot loss than other weeks because I’ve just had no appetite but for whatever reason it just wasn’t meant to be more – I guess I’m alright with that, it might catch up next week? I DID discover something that was really fucking enjoyable though and I’m sharing it, not because it’s new and groundbreaking, no, it’s actually ALL over Slimming World Instagram feeds everywhere but it IS a tasty bastard that I really enjoyed. So here. Look.
Now granted, my presentation is shit, but it still tastes good.
40g Readybrek mixed with 1 egg, half a toffee mullerlight and teaspoon of sweetner. Put half in your dish and then add one tablespoon of Nutella, cover with the rest of your Readbrek (or oats if you prefer) over the top and bake at 185 for 35 mins. Chuck some rasps on and then groan when you eat it. It’s like a great big chocolately cuddle. I loved it. For those of us doing Slimming World, it’s 4 syns and it’s really fucking filling.
In fact… I might have this for lunch. It’s almost time so I’m off to “rest” because in between writing this my Tesco order has arrived and been put away, I’ve sorted our washing and the garage man’s been to change my tyres on my car so I’ve been busy. I need to go and chill the fuck out before my brain explodes. I’ll try and write some more tomorrow but I know I’ve been a bit flakey so at the very least I’ll keep the Insta and Facebook pages a wee bit busy…. promise
- My office is now ready for next week. I have new curtains up, I have my desk cleared and I’ve cleared away some of the creepy shit with eyes that’s been scattered everywhere… I’m ready
- We had a really lovely bank holiday weekend. It wasn’t too busy and it was entirely knackering but I guess I felt a bit like a normalton at some points? It was good for me.
- I have survived one of the hardest solo parenting days every yesterday. Honestly, that kid is a fucking rocket sometimes. I’ve no idea what his beef was.
- He’s off to nursery today in a far better mood and even if he wasn’t… he’s someone else’s problem. Fuck it.
- Tomorrow I’m going for an Indian Head Massage. I dunno if you’ll remember but a few months back Christiaan went out with Eli for a surprise for me? It was a voucher for this but I’ve not been feeling like I could cope with anyone touching me. I thought it would be a good shout to get it booked before work starts and I get swept away in normal life again (that sounds great doesn’t it?!). I’m looking forward to it but am also a wee bit apprehensive… my body reacts in some crazy ways these days.
- Low lights
- Today I’m a bit like a burst couch…I have no energy, I have no appetite to have any. I could happily crawl into bed and sleep for a million bazillion years, and then maybe go back for a nap after but I’m fighting it because this time next week I need to be alert and working.
- My CBD is still doing fuck all I’m afraid, or it’s doing something so subtle I can’t see the difference. I’ll keep going with the rest of the tube but I may need to admit defeat on this one which sucks because I’d really hoped this would be the answer to my bone pain. If anything it’s getting worse and my joints feel horrendous now too. Fucks sake.
- I feel a wee bit like a drum beating out the same song at the minute – I’m worried everything is so “samey” and I’m daydreaming about short breaks and feeling better and being able to eat cake. Anything BUT what I’m able to do and it’s kind of soul destroying. It would have been great to get away but completely unpractical, plus we have neither the funds nor the leave entitlement for Christiaan to make it happen. I dunno, sometimes it’d just be nice to escape for a while innit? Sure you guys feel like that too.
- What’s on the menu Mellars?
- Breakfast – Sophie, brace yourself: Yogurt and Rasps
- Lunch – I’m not sure you know, either that oaty bastard up there ^^^ or something egg salady. Original Mellars… original.
- Dinner – Left over from chilli from last night I reckon, I’ve got some brown rice left over n all and might do a mexican sort of stir fry with veg through it to bulk it out?
- I post pics regularly on my Instagram account if you want pics of some of this grub by the way – you’ll find a link to follow me here: CLICK HERE my pics all look like road kill but if I post a pic it’s because its tasty. OR wank and you should avoid making the mistake. Whatever. There may also be pictures of cats and kids. Not included in the meal… I’m not an animal.
TOTAL WEIGHT LOST TO DATE: 4 STONE 4LBS
Are you new round here?
If you’ve just stumbled across TryingToDoItAll and have no bastarding idea what’s going on you should probably go back and read a few blogs from the beginning. Don’t panic, I won’t ask you to read them all, but these few posts will help explain. Oh stop sighing, it’ll only take you a few minutes. Fucks sake.
- Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
- Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
- When are the grown ups coming?
- Major surgery…again?
- You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?
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ME Blogger extraordinaire… a bit of a shit one, granted.