We matter

Posted on February 11, 2016 by livinginalimitedword

I read a post yesterday from a young woman who believes at this moment due to her health, that she may never become a mother. I truly felt for her, especially as to me, her post came across as almost apologetic for the way she was feeling about it. What is it in this world that makes so many people feel that feelings, whatever those feelings are, need to be apologised for. Grief is an incredibly real and painful thing to go through, and grief isn’t only attached to death, as I said to her, I know that one, all too well. Luckily, she is moving in the right direction and is not only seeking and getting help and like me, has a wonderfully supportive husband. Many are not so lucky and even more, instead of feeling it, showing it and growing through it, hide it, or worse still, dismiss it.

They used to say that the British had a stiff upper lip reaction to everything, if you believe the books of the past, to an extent that was true. It started with our so-called upper classes, who taught it in a slightly different form, through to the white collar environment, to the middle classes, and they passed it down again, to the rest of us. You would think that over time, it would have vanished by now, but there is one huge dinosaur, who has held onto it with iron fists, the business world. Those who have read for a while will know that I had a varied career over the years, but I still remember the feeling that hit me, the first time, I walked into work as a cog in the business world. That was back in the days when a business suit, was required to sit and sell on the phone. That suit meant you didn’t have feelings, and even more importantly, you didn’t have emotions. The occasional quiet laugh, but no emotions. The higher the ladder you climb, the harder that rule is applied. You can’t have emotions, as then, you might have friendships and then, how do you fire a friend. Business is filled with some of the apparently coldest people I have ever known.

When I was diagnosed with my PRMS, I remember going into my bosses office to tell her what the news was. She listened, she made all the right noises, said some of the right things, then told me to go home for a few days, “until your emotions won’t show to the staff”. That is the biggest problem with the business world, granted, you can’t have people crying all over the place, but you can have people, who are just that, people, not machines. Business can deal with broken bones, but it doesn’t have a clue, how to deal with broken people. I took her advice and I went home for a few days, then I totally shocked her by calling all my staff together to explain, exactly what was wrong with me. I felt, it was the best way to deal with it, the honest way, as unlike her, I could do my job and be a person. Mental welfare is more important than anything else, and until they learn that, they will always, be vulnerable to its side effects. Is it any wonder that working in that sort of environment, for those sort of people, means that people mentally breakdown all the time. What is even worse, is the same attitude, often goes home with everyone at the end of the day. Their boss may not be standing over them, but the pressures of the job never let’s go, and living as two totally different people, will break anyone eventually.

From childhood onwards, I had so many things happen to me, that left their scars. I had a major breakdown in my early 20’s, my brain just couldn’t take any more and it snapped. I was given a choice, voluntarily go into hospital, or be sectioned. I spent six weeks in a recently renamed mental health unit, previously know as an asylum. The name may have changed, but the buildings and the care, was still extremely outdated. Six weeks and another 2 years of learning through therapy, to not let the pressure build, or to put things in boxes, and hope they will stay there. I learned and practised that right up until the day I was sent home to compose myself, then I started stacking up those boxes all over again, because, I needed my job. For the next two years, I forgot how to grieve, I forgot to feel, to cry and to deal with everything as it happens. My health stepped in and gave me a reminder, all that stress brought on a major flare. One that landed me up in the hospital, unable to talk, breath, or eat. The mechanism that allows us to do all those things without thought, went. They were muddled up and confused, just as my mind was. Three weeks in hospital, resting and clinging to an oxygen mask, followed by intravenous steroids and another two weeks of rest at home, let me remember to feel. My boss didn’t like it much, but a new me returned to work, no longer the stuffy business person, respectfully dressed but me, with a different attitude and a defiance to be myself. They didn’t like it, but there was nothing, they could do, they tried, they made it hard for me to carry on working, but they failed.

I know that there are a few companies out there, who have realised that a happy, mentally healthy staff are more productive and have taken positive steps. But only a few. There isn’t a single reason on this planet why anyone needs to wear a suit, unless, they personally want to. Work shouldn’t be about control, it should be about cooperation, just as life should be. I know it’s all very well and good saying that your mental health is more important than any job, but when you really need that job, when without out it, life would flounder, it’s hard to accept. That is one of the beauties of being chronically ill and housebound, I can say these things, but I say them with gravitas as I have been there, and, I can also say them with sincerity, with love and a longing to be heard. Our, mental health, is worth more than anything else, as, without it, you truly have nothing and are locked in places where no one wants to go.

Every emotion we feel, is, there for a reason, so feel them. Even if they cause you unbelievable pain, that pain is short lived, if it is felt when it should be. Yes, you can hold onto it until your in an appropriate place to let it out, but let it out, sooner rather than later. No emotion is time capped either. Grief takes as long as it takes, I still grieve for my son who died over 30 years ago, but usually it’s no longer that raw pain, and it’s no longer there, for every second, of every day, it mellows. Why is it acceptable to act like an idiot, shouting, jumping up and down, smiling from ear to ear because something good has happened, but wrong to sit and quietly shed a tear when a painful memory appeared? It’s wrong and the only people who can change that, is us. Our minds matter, take care of them.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 11/02/2014 – The freedom of desolation

I seem to be having some luck with the fluid reduction as my ankles are much improved, as I expected though I have three fingers on which my rings are still stuck fast. I guess they will take a large miracle……

The best thing ever?

Posted on January 3, 2016 by livinginalimitedword

Sometimes, when I read back the words I have written in the past, both recent and distant, I often find myself surprised at just exactly, what I have managed to put into words. I can only guess that it is like everything else about myself, I have little faith in my ability, in this case, the ability to get across the true feelings and emotions, of what it means to be ill. Emotions have never been my strong point, yes, I feel them, just as you do, but I haven’t always been the best at showing them, and absolutly rubbish, when it comes to talking about them. What shocks me, is somehow I can put them into words, words that hold their power, even long after I’ve forgotten ever writing them. I’m not saying that I am a great writer, no, not even I can that be conceited, something all of us suffer from at times, it’s more along the lines that I am shocked at my ability to even make myself cry, both out of pleasure and from all too often, almost visible pain. It was in childhood that I learned to hide the extremes of emotion, then slowly, also the everyday ones. Emotions weren’t to be seen, only blind obedience, contrition and feigned happiness when tears felt more appropriate. I used to spend hours in front of my mirror working on that perfectly blank and serene expression, which somehow always failed when it was most needed. By adulthood, I had my emotions so well under control, that even I thought myself, cold at times. I suppose my habit of writing at speed and without great thought, just letting the words flow, means I tap into the true me, the one that was always there. In a way, I think it could be a good exercise for anyone to try. Trust me, the real you will appear right there before your own eyes, but remember, you can’t plan a single word of it, just the first line of each paraghraph, then let your mind run.

It is one of those wonderfully warped things about my illness, that tears now accompany almost anything. Let my brain sense even the tiniest speck of stress, and my eyes start to leak in a way that is impossible to stop or conceal. Chronic illness is probably one of the most warped things that can happen to anyone. Not even the cruelest mind in existence, could have come up with a better way of stripping away every learned behaviour, ever speck of self-control, to produce a more intense lesson in self. We all like to think that we know ourselves, you don’t, unless, you too are living with one or more of these monsters. They make you expose so many differing aspects of our personality, from our strengths to our greatest weaknesses, that self discovery is impossible to avoid. I never thought of myself as strong. I had had too many things happen to me, where others had taken control of me, when in my book, a strong person would have stopped them, and escaped their influence, that clearly, I wasn’t strong. So much had happened to me in the first half of my life, that proved to me, that everything they told me I was, had to be right. That is the problem with controlling people, they slowly chip away at you, diminishing every aspect of you, and you are left, a shadow of yourself, and so scared of that shadow, you even try to hide that. Like many, I thought that chronic illness would be the same. The images we are fed of frail people, no longer in control of their own lives, seemed all too familiar to me. It seemed so ironic, that I had spent so many years rebuilding myself, only for my health to turn on me, and I was once more facing domination.

I can’t find, or explain, what happened inside of me. I had spent so many years defending myself, and so many more putting right all the wrongs, that something, somewhere took the decision, that this time, it wasn’t going to be the victim. The other day on twitter, I replied to a tweet by saying something along the lines of, “PRMS wasn’t the end, in fact, it was the beginning of me”. I say along the lines of, as I can’t remember the exact words, but I remember the earth cracking truth I felt inside, as I read it back, before I clicked send. As I have said many times, words tumble off the ends of my fingers, direct from some odd point in my brain, that I don’t control. They just appear. The basic me, has always been there, I’m not saying that I became a totally new person, but that tweet was totally true. For the first time in my life, I was facing something that wasn’t going to deceitfully take over my life, this time, I was forewarned. Everything that I had inside me, all that rebuilding, starting over and over, had given me a grounding, for what was to be my future. But the final difference, took time to appear, and that, was this. All those things that I wasn’t “allowed” to let out, could pour out of me, clearly, without being shrouded in any way. Writing was my final salvation, my opertunity to learn to truly be me.

What you read here, isn’t just a description of my life, or just my health, what you read here, is me. The total me, the me, that I might even go as far, as saying, I don’t think even Adam is always aware of, well not until he too, reads it. Probably even more surprisingly, it’s also a me, that I’m not always aware of either. I’m not cold, I never have been, I just learned to appear that way. I’ve always cared passionately about everything and everyone. In an odd way, I am actually glad that I became ill, because, it has taught me so much about myself, about my life, my strengths, and weaknesses, and most weren’t what I thought. Best of all, there all here to remind me, whenever I forget, life long training doesn’t disappear over night. Being ill, could be one of the most positive things that could have happened to me, as a person. It’s a truly hard way to learn, but I’m glad that I have had the oppertunity to, as otherwise, I might have missed it all.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 03/01/2014 – Step by step

And normality returns, well I like to think it does. With Adam now back at work and the house no longer filled with foods that no matter how tempting they are, really aren’t good for anyone, there is a feeling of……

Disabled by people

Posted on December 13, 2015 by livinginalimitedword

It doesn’t matter how much they love us, or we love them, it is inevitable that at some point in any relationships, one or both will do something to hurt the feelings or the other. Add in chronic illness and it’s not only inevitable, it is unavoidable. There could be loads of reasons as to why this happens, but what matters the most is that it’s dealt with and we all move on. The reason that I have heard the most puts the onus on us, the ones who are ill, as we are supposed to become more emotionally sensitive, to the actions of other. Although there may be some truth in this, and undoubtedly, when you are in increased pain, things are said that probably shouldn’t be, just ask anyone who has had a baby about that one, but I think it actually goes a lot deeper, and mainly in the opposite direction. There is one undoubted fact, people in general, don’t know how to act around or interact with, those who are chronically ill or those who are disabled. For some reason, that I can’t put my finger on, other than a total lack of understanding or applied thought, they feel they have to act differently and totally miss the most important fact, we are still people, the people we have always been.

Adam and I have only been together for 2 years longer than I have been diagnosed with PRMS. In the 14 years since then, I am sure that almost daily we have annoyed each other almost equally, but clearly, I this post isn’t about who is hogging the remote control today. When you suddenly become ill in the eyes of others, which is what happens the second that you get a diagnosis, it subtly changes ever single conversation or act, from that second on. Most of it is well-intentioned and often quite sweet and helpful, but occasionally, it makes you want to scream. Normally, when you actually do, they are totally lost and look at you as though you have fallen off the Christmas tree, as they have no idea what the problem is, or there even was one. Which is exactly what happened the other evening just after, we had been to the kitchen to sort out my night time meds. For over a year now, Adam has now been responsible for all my meds. I have made so many mistakes, that I asked for his help, so I didn’t spend another night crying and unable to work out why I was in so much pain, simply because I had muddled up my meds yet again. Eight o’clock arrived and he jumped up picking up his boots that would have otherwise blocked me from getting to the door in my wheelchair. He danced around the living room shifting other things, that didn’t need touching, then he did this odd little body swerving act at speed so that he, could get to the kitchen first. Funnily enough, I can switch lights on and get into the room without out him preparing the whole journey for me. As I was entering the kitchen, he once more jumped out of what he thought was my way, then he did this odd act with the bottle of coke he was holding, as he thought that somehow he was once again in my way. The whole thing meant that I landed up running into the kitchen cabinet, which if he had just acted towards my presence as he would have done when I was on my feet, wouldn’t have happened. He has been doing this odd behaviour ever since I have been back in my wheelchair, and it annoys the hell out of me.

No matter how well intended these odd actions are, they came across to me, as highly patronising, rather than helpful. In fact, his desperation to help had once again made my life harder. His distracting behaviour meant I didn’t pay full attention to the line I was taking to enter the kitchen. Catching my wheels on the cabinet, meant I was caught and getting free, took ten times as much effort, than my normal gliding entrance would have. I know perfectly well that they aren’t intended that way, but that evening was the final straw and I simply had to tell him how I felt and ask him to stop it. I waited for a few minutes after we had returned to the living room, then made sure that I was relaxed and that my voice wasn’t going to come across in any other way than what it was, a genuine plea from the heart. Just as I expected, he wasn’t really aware of what he was doing, and especially not, of how it came across. He thought that he was just being helpful, trying to make my life easier as is his way.

Throughout nearly all the time I have been ill, it doesn’t matter whether you know the person, or if they are a total stranger, they all forget the most obvious thing, we are still capable people most of the time. Yes, if we are clearly in increased pain, or struggling, then help is more than appreciated. But when we are our “normal” selfs, the people who manage all day long, without someone dancing around in front of us preparing the ground we are about to travel on, all that is needed, is to treat us as humans. Our health may have stolen nearly everything from us, but that is the one thing it hasn’t touched, yet.

For some reason, once we are visibly ill, the world suddenly treats us totally differently. For many of us, it is the day that pick up a walking stick, that we first see the change in others. Suddenly they do nice things, things they wouldn’t have done for us before, like offering us a seat on the bus. Don’t get me wrong, that seat is truly appreciated, but they also start doing odd things, things that don’t quite make sense, other than we are no longer, quite human. Doors and chairs, I get, but light switches, moving furniture that’s not even in our way, doing things we are more than capable of doing without assistance, they may be thoughtful and nice, but day after day, week after week, we are slowly disabled by others. I felt exactly the same thing happening at work as I have at times with Adam, I have felt it when I was out on my own or even when others, people overcompensate. Our bodies are already making us slowly disabled, but it is people, who disable us even further and faster. All it takes is a quick question, “Do you need help with that?”. Some do ask, and I almost bet, they are the ones who have lived with a disabled person, or watched a grandparent, slowly go down hill. They are the people who understand that our independence isn’t just required, it’s vital.

When I spoke to Adam, I asked him quite simply, “Would you have done that if I were on my feet?”, his answer was, “No, I guess I wouldn’t.” Since when, I have been human again. For all of us, the time will come when every second of care will not just be nice, but needed, but our independence is vital, even if that independence is simply turning on a light by ourselves. I don’t think that wanting to be treated as a person, means that we are emotionally sensitive. If someone does explode or throw you a scowl when you rush across a room to open a door for them, put yourself in on their wheels, and think what your actions might have looked like to them. Oh and next time, just ask.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 13/12/2013 – Image destroyer

Since Tuesday I have been meaning to call the doctors for a repeat prescription, I have been blaming my memory again for letting me down but when I called this morning and as soon as I heard the…..

Losing me

Posted on March 5, 2015 by livinginalimitedword

I woke yesterday afternoon from my nap and I couldn’t believe when I managed to stand up the pain that was right around my mid region, earlier in the day I had been hopeful that it was starting to settle, I should have known well enough that it was too good to be true. It doesn’t seem to matter how long you are ill, that hope that things might just get better never leaves you, but even a peaceful two hours sleep hadn’t managed to change anything, other than to aggravate things somehow. Because of how things have been for the last few days, we had decided between us that it was best if the shopping was delivered in the evening instead of my dealing with the shopping arriving by myself in the morning. Nothing seems to be going easily for me just now and even what should have been something to make my life easier, it made it worse. I know that it is all part of this stupid illness, but the rate that I now get wound up is ridiculous and it is always over the daftest of things, so when the doorbell eventually rang, fifteen minutes outside of the allotted slot, well I was ready to explode. Adam, of course, was being overly polite to the delivery boy saying it wasn’t a problem and not to worry about it, whereas I was demanding a good reason and had been on the verge of phoning to put in a complaint. I get so frustrated by this brain of mine, 5 years ago I might have felt that way, but I had it still under enough control that no one who didn’t know me, wouldn’t have noticed. When your brain is out of your own control to the point that you can’t even see it is happening, well afterwards, it is really embarrassing, to the point where you can’t even help feeling a bit ashamed of yourself. Adam is used to it now and he handles it with his normal calm self, but when I can look back on it the next day, well the embarrassment just grow.

Our whole evening was overshadowed by it, between the fact my mind was refusing to settle back to normal mode and the pain that had been triggered by all the bending, stretching and walking required to get everything done quickly so that our whole evening wasn’t lost, well I wasn’t in the best mood. Wednesday nights have been for a long time now our night to watch TV that we both truly enjoy, not just what is served up by the BBC, which is excellent most of the time, but well does go a bit off mid-week. Those three hours we have together every evening are special to me and I hate it if there is anything that is happening that eats into it, even if it is just a few minutes, losing half of it felt devastating. I can sit and tell myself a million times that it was just the shopping and it was just a few stupid minutes out of a lift time, but it doesn’t change a single bit of how I felt or how little control I had over the way I was acting. I used to think that when I started to loose control of my mind, that I might also have the blessing that I wouldn’t know that it was happening, why I thought that, I don’t know, maybe it was just wishful thinking. Over the last years, I have felt every second of every step along the way, knowing and feeling terrible about it but totally unable to change it. That is the bit I don’t get, how can you know you are being totally irrational or rude or any of the other things that happen, yet have no control to stop it, apologise or correct it. Brains don’t work the way I thought they did, in fact, I would go as far as to say that brains are the most frustrating part of living with PRMS, pain is nothing in comparison to losing yourself. Not being able to remember or to vocalise your thoughts and feelings are one thing, not being able to be civil or stop yourself from acting like a petulant child, well that’s scary.

Just as I know that the pain has increased and that my memory has become worse in the last few years, my lack of control of my personality, as that is how it would appear to anyone who hasn’t known me fro years, has also increased. Adam has lived through every moment of every change that has happened to me, he knows the real me, but that doesn’t make it right that he has to put up with this, especially as we both know that it along with everything else, will only get worse. Emotionally I am all over the place in the last few months, I think I have cried more than I ever did in the past and most of it for nothing, I would rather be sat in tears than getting wound up and angry, but I don’t have a choice. From the day they confirmed that my brain function was deteriorating, I knew that the future was going to be nothing like I had had it pictured in my mind. I had settled myself with the idea of being in pain and physically disabled, but I hadn’t given a second thought to losing my mind as well. I knew that it might affect my memory and concentration, but to actually change me as a person, making me short tempered and agitated over nothing, I never allowed for that at all. To date, keeping my life in a strict routine and to not bring in outside people into my life has kept things reasonably level, that’s why I wanted Adam involved in getting the settee’s sorted out and the new covers made. I didn’t want to lose it in front of strangers and I truly needed his help when it came to sorting out the money and so on, dealing with figures is something else that is getting harder and harder. When you were once totally independent, never relied on anyone for anything, it’s hard to accept that you can’t do anything, even deal with a shopping delivery on your own, just as hard as that is knowing you are putting more and more onto someone you love and they too are the one who receives all the bad stuff as well, because they are the ones who are there.

I have always said it and it just seems to get truer and truer, it isn’t us, the ones who are ill that have the hardest part to play, it is our partners. I know what is happening to me, I feel every single part of it, the seen and not seen, but I also know that I couldn’t bear watching if this was happening to Adam as we know each other that well, that neither of us can truly hide anything from the other, no matter how clever we think we are.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 5/03/13 – Changing expectations

When I stopped writing yesterday I was so uncomfortable that I decided to try and sort out my bowels, I have suppositories in the house but using them by myself to date had been somewhat comical, but I felt I had no choice but to try. I am not going to paint a picture, but it is enough to say that…….

Not tonight, or any night

Posted on December 22, 2014 by livinginalimitedword

I lost it last night, I simply exploded and went to bed with steam still coming out of my ears and tears rolling down my face, I know that isn’t like me and luckily so does Adam. Adam had been out for most of the day, his sister had organised a get together between him, her and their mother, it is something that started years ago after his grandmother died as we all used to go and see her on Christmas day. Clearly I couldn’t go, but that is something I really don’t mind any longer, just because I am housebound doesn’t mean Adam has to be and them coming here, well it would mean a huge amount of work for Adam and stress for me. Adam left at 2pm saying he would only be a few hours, I knew that that meant at least 7pm or maybe 8 as none of his family are any good at time keeping and nothing ever seems to work on the time scales they plan. It was supposed to be a Christmas lunch, a little early, but that was how it was described and despite the fact that when I was made redundant and we could no longer afford to give presents, I knew that he would come home with some sort of gift from them, for him. I should say here that I have made it more than clear over the last few years, that I don’t want any presents and I will not even accept them, as to me it is too painful to accept without being able to give, it took some time, but that message was finally accepted. That though has nothing to do with what happened last night.

Seven o’clock came and went and when the phone rang at 8pm, I wasn’t really that surprise, Adam was just calling to remind me to take my meds and to say he would be home before I went to bed. I took my meds and after the house being so cold last night I thought I would switch on my electric blanket, just to take the chill of the bed, then settled myself in front of the TV to enjoy the rest of my program. Just after quarter to nine I heard the door being opened and I shouted hello as I always do, it was clear by the length of time it took him to come in to the flat that he had something large with him, which he took directly into the kitchen, before coming through here to have a chat about his day. Despite having a longer nap than normal yesterday afternoon, I was still really tired and if I am honest, I was a little annoyed that he hadn’t come home just that bit sooner. I of course wanted to have just a little bit of time with him after not seeing him at all day, he had done his usual on a Sunday and had slept all morning and on into what was basically the last possible minute, before having to get ready to go. We talked for a few minutes but I really had to get ready for bed and I got up to start my normal routine, just before I headed to bed I went into the kitchen to put something in the bin and he followed me, as I was heading back towards the door he pointed out the present he had come home with, there sat on the floor in the dinning area was a brand new printer.

I lost it, on the surface that sound a bit odd, I realise that, but there was several good reasons behind it, including the biggest ones, my PRMS. I was tired and being faced with one thing I totally can’t deal with, change and this to me is huge change, wasn’t the brightest thing for him to do. To explain briefly, we have never had a printer for several reasons, first we don’t need one, in 20 years of having a home PC, we have only ever on a couple of occasions actually needed a printer. Like most people the answer to that is to use the one at work with permission to print off what is normally one page, the length of a business a letter. Secondly, we have absolutely no where to put a printer and we don’t have or want WiFi, so it would mean more wires and more hassle as our router has no more spare LAN ports. The only place that this, now here printer can possibly go, is in the dinning area of the kitchen, an area already over run by Adams piles of stuff that he doesn’t know what to do with, but won’t throw out. It is also an area that I have been fighting with him for years over as to me it should be totally clear to be used when needed, at the drop of a hat, not after a major relocation of rubbish to the bedroom. The fact we don’t eat there doesn’t matter, it should be perfect and ready to use all of the time. Then there is the cost of paper and ink cartridges an expense we have never needed and now more than ever, I also know without a doubt that Adam will print off things that don’t need printing, meaning not just cost but more useless bits of paper to be put into his already huge piles of stuff that shouldn’t be there. But that wasn’t why I lost it!

I lost it because of the fact I was exhausted and more importantly it is change! The damage done to my brain means I can’t deal with change at the best of time, add in the rest and I wasn’t just ready to explode, I did. I couldn’t believe that he sprung that on me, especially at that time of night as he knows better than anyone that it wasn’t going to go well. If he didn’t know it had been bought for him, well he could have left it between the two front doors over night, or until he came home from work today when he could talk to me calmly about, rather than throwing me into a spin that I had no way to get out of. In a split second I had gone from half asleep and desperate to get into bed, to a raving lunatic who wasn’t even able to talk about it and we parted, him into the bathroom for his shower and me back into the living room where I chain smoked three cigs in a hope of calming down enough to be able to go to bed. I had already lost two nights sleep, I just couldn’t afford to loose another because I couldn’t shut my stupid brain up. Luckily there was something on my side and that was I had tweaked my meds last night to ensure I slept well, I had taken and extra 5 mls of my Amitriptyline and turned my G & T into a double, add in the nicotine and I actually slept reasonably quickly after managing to stop the tears that had of course appeared just to complete the picture of a real idiot.

It is really hard when your mind takes over your entire person like that and I can hear the minds of people who know nothing about life with PRMS or even all forms of MS, thinking that I was acting like a petulant child, on the surface that would be a great example, but that child can stop it if they want, I can’t. I knew what was happening, I even said to Adam “if you had shown me that in the morning, it wouldn’t be so bad, but to drop this on me at this time of night…”, clearly I knew, but there was nothing I could do to stop sounding and being so wound up and so angry, which actually makes the whole thing worse. I was out of control and I knew it, that is probably one of the scariest things that can happen to you, to be aware of what is going on, yet totally unable to stop it. For me, maybe not others, I would prefer it if I didn’t know it was happening, if it was not just out of my control, but out of my head. Having the worst memory on earth that you don’t even remember not remembering, would be easier to deal with than having emotions so out of control that they are fighting inside of you, with you standing in the middle of them unable to do anything. I can fully see why people would find that impossible to get their head around, as I know without a doubt if someone had told me 30 years ago that that could even happen, I wouldn’t have believed them, yet here I am living it, not just last night, but again and again, through out my adult life and it doesn’t get any easier, just worse. Once your body has triggered all the different chemical reactions that go with fear, anger and confusion, then through in a handful of frustration and logic doesn’t stand a chance, any more than someone trying to calm you down, even yourself.

This morning it is done and forgotten, the printer is hidden and Adam is at work, I guess he eventually clicked as to what was wrong with me and that it was out of my control and I wasn’t trying to be unreasonable. I guess we will talk about it tonight and yes, now that the printer is here, we will sort something out, there will be a compromise or deal somewhere, there always is. What ever it is, it will include a reminder about not surprising me with change, even the smallest one and especially not ones as huge as a printer.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 22/12/12 – One Year on

Well I have made it, one complete year to blogging! When I started this I really didn’t think I would be able to come up with enough to write about in one blog far less two, or that I would be…….