Nuts!

This post is going to be one of the hardest (and possibly longest) I have ever chosen to write and if I'm honest even at this point I am shaking like a little leaf. I have toyed with writing it since the inception of 'gemmak' but for various reasons have always decided not too, until now.

So what's changed?

Well, I suppose the feeling that in the interests of honesty and of finally and completely facing my demons I should. Perhaps we never utterly face our demons but I can have a damn good try. Maybe it will be cathartic, maybe it won't, I can't know that until afterwards but it is relevant in some respects to what has been happening in my life more recently and recent news about someone who is very brave has given me a little courage to go for it now.

My difficulty in blogging this was borne from a number of things, mostly just simply that I don't like to think about it in too much detail anymore but also because it has had such a profound effect on my life. Like many things we don't understand it scares us and sadly it still invites prejudice, I think that is now lessening considerably but believe me, in the past I have suffered that prejudice in various forms. Maybe that is why I didn't blog it before, this was one place that wasn't an issue.

So what am I talking about?

Ok, about twenty years ago I 'lost it', lost the plot, freaked out, call it what you will. The laymans term is that I had a 'nervous breakdown' though medically such a diagnosis doesn't exist. It's a coverall phrase for going nuts. My actual diagnosis was chronic severe anxiety/depression, with the emphasis on the anxiety.

I will spare you the details, at least at this stage, but suffice to say it wasn't pretty. I was a complete mess and went from being a professional woman with a career to someone who was so scared of almost everything she couldn't be left alone, couldn't go out, couldn't work, couldn't eat....in essence just couldn't function in any usual sense of the day to day meaning. Ultimately it cost me my career, probably my marriage (thought he shot through without ever giving me a reason), certainly my home, my self esteem, some friends and possibly almost my life.

This was a place you really don't want to be and one I never want to be in again, not ever, for anything or anyone. No way, no how!

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I had always been what I think at the time was described as a 'nervy child'. I was asthmatic, had eczema, didn't like going way from home, didn't like being left even at children's parties etc. etc. and looking back I can see a tendency to obsessiveness as far back as age four. Psychiatry of course was in the dark ages and none of this was really recognised by the medical profession, my parents tried to encourage me to 'spread my wings' and it worked in the main though the personality traits of course remain

At nineteen I had a relatively minor 'episode' In actual fact it was only panic attacks and a degree of agoraphobia but even something that simple and accepted now was like rocket science in psychiatric terms in the 1970's. My doctor looked confused, signed me off work for a few weeks and prescribed Valium. Hells bells. Nowadays that seems an outrageous reaction but really, at the time I was lucky I got that much credence given to my situation.

I managed to recover within a few months to a point where life was normal again but to a small degree some of the anxiety related issues remained, I just learned to live my life around them. I got married, bought a house, built a career, all the normal stuff but I had my moments where I knew all was not quite as I would like it to be. Those moments were enough to warrant my trying to get help but again, psychiatry was not what it is today. I had one or two referrals to inappropriate counsellors, one or two spells of medication and one or two spells of a week or two off work but nothing really changed medically.

Fast forward ten years.

High stress job, high stress life and 'BANG' I couldn't keep up the pretense of coping any longer and I hit the wall at full speed, figuratively speaking of course.

In actual fact what I did was just get up from my desk one day, walk out and fall apart. My anxiety levels were unbearable.

It's not a feeling I can describe well and to be honest it's too painful for me too even if I could.... but if you have ever been there you know. I rapidly became completely dysfunctional but still the psychiatric services were found wanting and things had to get a whole lot worse before anything significant in the way of help was offered to me.

And that was it, the next two years of my life were the biggest battle I have ever fought and one there were many times I thought I wouldn't win but I was lucky. I was finally referred to 'Mary', one of only a handful of what was then a new kind of therapist who practiced a particularly extreme form of a then, new treatment CBT.

The harsh version was considered to be worth the risk (it may have worsened my situation if it failed), the gentler way she felt wouldn't work for me and so I was admitted to a psych unit as a day patient (Mon to Fri, 9-5, no it wasn't like a job at all!) for six months and there began the most terrifying and difficult time of my life.

I can't blog the details, it's too painful so instead I will concentrate on the positive aspect here. The fact that against the odd's and to some degree my therapists surprise, I made it. I recovered as far as anyone does....and probably beyond. I learned to live with and around what couldn't be fixed just like anyone with any illness has to and I have accepted I will always have to deal with some degree of anxiety and depression related issues. The difference now is that I know I can.

I once asked 'Mary' how long it would take for me to get better. Her reply was "the rest of your life". At the time I thought that was horrific... but it was true, I still learn everyday, only little tiny things now, not the massive steps of the early days but as each event in life presents itself I learn to deal with that one. I still have setbacks, I always will but they are new opportunities to learn (well that's what I think on the good days, on the bad I hate them and they still scare the crap out of me), I still react to some things with more anxiety than perhaps many do, I still get pretty low and I still have to keep fighting but it's become so much a part of me that I can't imagine it any other way now. There are so many aspects of my life it has affected to some degree, there are so many things I hate about it, the prejudice particularly, and believe me I have suffered the 'does she take sugar' syndrome, I have been refused jobs I am more than capable of because of it and I have had people treat me differently once I have told them but fuck it I did it!

There are other positives too, the whole thing has made me very much who I am now and I think that person is better in many ways than the person I was before, it has taught me how strong I can be when my backs against the wall and it's relevant to the last few years of my life particularly because I know I couldn't have coped with all that has happened without the knowledge and coping strategies I learned when I was so ill. I thought I couldn't get through the last few years intact but I did.

No, I'm not daft enough to say I am glad it happened, of course I'm not, it has made my life very difficult and caused me many losses, I would never wish it on anyone, I really wouldn't, it shaped my life in a way I wouldn't have chosen and I will always have to deal with it in a lesser way...but it has made me, strong, it has I hope made me more understanding and.....it has made me damn proud of me!

There is so much more I could write but I won't though I am happy to field questions on the subject should anyone want to ask one.

Ok, enough already. My head is screwed just typing this but as one who has always fought the fight for acceptance of mental illness ,always made a point of not hiding it in an effort for that to happen and in a tiny way help end the prejudices and aid understanding, I had to blog it eventually.

Really, if you met me in real life you would think I was 'normal'! *tongue in cheek*

There are people with way more serious mental illness than I had and this isn't going to turn into a blog about the subject permanently, in fact I probably won't mention it again. For anyone who is wondering about the title of this post it's a standard coping mechanism, if I say I'm nuts no one else can say it and hurt me....

....and finally, though I'm sure better things could be dedicated to her, this post is dedicated to the one person who was there, saw it all in all it's gory detail, supported me and has maintained that support and friendship ever since, often against the odds! 'J' (known here only as 'anon'), you know who you are but you probably don't know just how much I owe you!

Am I glad that's over!! Back to normal now....

Filing in the gaps

So, for the last year or more much of the little I have posted has been a bit vague to say the least. The reason for this was that I was unsure if I should talk about issues that concern others close to me. However, I have had time to think, time for the dust to settle and time to discuss the situation with important others and the upshot is that I have decided it's not disloyal, it doesn't detract from how much I love those involved and my needs matter too. This blog, among other things has been cathartic for me and I have missed that aspect of it, along with all the other obvious aspects I enjoyed about blogging.

That's it then, names and places may be changed to protect the innocent and all that, one or two posts may be elsewhere and password protected but in the main I intend to do the one thing I always used to do here...blog what I need too and tell it how it is.

Some of you may find some of what I say seems harsh here and there and it is in some respects because it's honest but it doesn't mean that I love or care for those involved any the less, it just means life can be harsh sometimes, life has many facets and the old chestnut of 'don't judge a (wo)man until you have walked a mile in his/her shoes etc', may apply at times.

I really...

...need to redesign this place, pull my bloody finger out and start blogging again!! I have been completely hopeless for far too long.

I'm on a weeks holiday right now, perhaps I will finally get to it....

The end of an era

One of the biggest issues that has come to the fore over the last 18 months since my father died has been the situation myself and my siblings have found ourselves in with regard to our mother.

It very quickly became apparent that aside from her obvious and expected grief my mother was suffering some significant memory issues and that they needed to be addressed sooner rather than later. Prior to his death I suspect my dad had been acting in part as her memory and whilst we were aware that she was getting a little forgetful, we really had no idea just how affected she was until she no longer had my dad for support.

During the period between then and now we have dealt with the medical aspects. Sometimes (actually most times) it has been something of an uphill struggle, both in dealing with 'the system' and in knowing how best to effect the necessary changes required. I don't think it's appropriate or fair to go into too much detail but suffice to say she can be pretty stubborn and frustrating when her back's against the wall... as I'm sure we can all be at times of difficulty. Knowing that however hasn't made it any less harrowing or stressful to deal with!

The single biggest issue has been her housing situation. For the last eighteen months she has been rattling around in what has been our family home for the last forty five years, like a very small ball bearing in a rather large biscuit tin and even had I been able to stay with her indefinitely, it is way too big a property for anything less than a family and not one were an octogenarian can reasonably be considered safe. Two flights of stairs, a massive garden, yada, yada.

And so, it is thus that last weekend, after much ado (we couldn't sell the house within the required period) we moved her into a beautiful,private, brand new, purpose built retirement apartment, closer to town, all high end mod cons and safe for her. She is perfectly able to cope day to day with living in the practical sense but emotionally we have yet to see what happens. It was her decision to move in as much as she felt that it was the 'wise' thing to do but leaving her home has been a whole lot less easy emotionally, as one might expect.

Time will tell but early indications are that it may be a long and somewhat pot-hole filled road to get to a point where we are happy that she is happy, or at least as happy as can be expected under the circumstances.

For me it feels like the end of an era, the home that was our family home since I was five years old, whilst we still own it temporarily, has gone in every sense that matters. It's just bricks and mortar now, empty of people, of family life, of the laughter and traumas of day to day life and of the warmth and feeling of safety my parents created there. Closing the door for the last time at the weekend felt like closing a door finally on that part of our lives.

So much has changed since my dad became ill but we will always have the memories.

Alive and kicking!

I know, it's not before time that I re-appear here but if I'm honest I have had so little time spare recently it has been almost impossible to find the time to blog and on the odd occasion that I have, then I have been just too tired or my blogging mojo has seemed to have deserted me.

At times the feeling that I 'should' make the effort has felt like yet another pressure on me but something has had to give and it's been this. I have even toyed with the idea of packing it all in once and for all, something a year or two ago I couldn't have conceived of. I have considered deleting the whole thing or moving to another platform where perhaps I don't feel so limited and I have wondered maybe if 'gemmak' was just simply from another time in my life, a time when things seemed very different to now.... and when most of what I could think of to blog wasn't doom and gloom and the hassles of more recent times. I don't want to keep on posting the 'oh misery me' stuff but it's been much of what I have considered blogging the last few months and it's boring!

However, you don't get shot of me that easily, I have decided to keep trying and whilst there may still not be the daily (or even weekly) updates, of years gone by (thank God I hear you mutter)I have decide that for now 'gemmak' will remain alive and kicking, I just can't give up completely after so long.....can I?

Settling in

Well, I have lived in my new place for almost a month now and to be honest I can't believe just how quickly the time has gone or how fast I have settled in. It's a strange thing but in some respects it all still seems new to me but in others it feels as though I have been here for a long time.

I really wasn't sure about this sharing malarkey but thus far I kinda like it. Given the choice of course I would prefer my own flat but this situation is more tolerable than I had imagined. my housemates are all pretty cool, the woman is rarely here but she's lovely when she is, myself and one of the guys get on pretty well and usually have a 'post-work debrief at dinner time each day and the other guy is a real character. Ok, so his drum and bass gets a tad wearing from time to time but in this situation one has to live and let live a little.

These guys in fact could provide good blogging subject matter but I am still not sure whether I should go that route or not. They have no idea about this blog and I have no intention of them finding out but if they did (and let's face it, it happens) it could get difficult.

This first month hasn't been without it's ups and downs (that's for another post) but in the main it's been a vast improvement on the last two years and I am at last beginning to feel a little more like a human being again!

A new start!

Well then, as luck would have it, within days of my last post, I found somewhere to live and my continued silence here has been as the result of my finally moving from my parents house!

Ok, so it's not what I had in mind and it's not anything like I imagined my life to be at this age but it's mine, I can afford it and at last I have my privacy and perhaps my sanity saved.

I have a room in a shared house, it's actually a beautiful, almost new, four bedroom house and a house that I could never hope to live in if I had to rent of buy the whole place, (you don't want to know just how much the one room is costing me!) it doesn't feel to much like I am living in one room to be honest, my room is very big (big enough to make a sleeping area and a separate living area, I have french doors to a small garden and a shower room next door which I only have to share with one other woman

There are four of us, two girls and two guys, myself, the other woman who is a beauty therapist, a geek and an engineer and thus far we all seem to get along just fine...just as long as the guys don't try and use our bathroom!

I've lived here almost two weeks now, I've tidied the place up some, courtesy of one or two mad dashes to Ikea, though I still have much to do to really make it feel like home but for now I love it, I love having my freedom back, I love having my own 'stuff' and I love feeling like a 50 year old instead of a bloody 15 year old!

I have had the odd moment of feeling lonely and a bit scared but 'N' is here most evenings at least and at last I feel like I have made some headway, the last two years have been a time I never want to visit again...and I never will. This is the first time I have lived alone (yes really) and it's the first time that I have been in the position where having a roof over my head doesn't depend in part on a man.

I like that feeling! I like it very much!

One day, somehow, I will have a whole flat/house but for now this is just fine, it's a first step to rebuilding my life and one thing is particularly notable, I haven't cried one single time in two weeks....and that's not something I have been able to say for a very long time, it used to be almost a daily event.

FREEDOM!!!! Yayyyyy.

Moving - Well that's the theory...

...but in practice it seems to be a whole other matter!

Ergh (yes, that's a technical term), I have to move within the next few weeks now and despite having spent better part of the last few months scouring the internet/estate agents/newspapers yada yada, I still can't find anywhere I can even consider affording.

It's utterly ridiculous, rents here are so high it's beyond me how anyone affords them, 50% of what I see runs into £1000's pcm quite literally and even the smallest studio flat is out of my price range. I knew that of course but I kept telling myself all the things others tell me "something will turn up", "you will work something out", etc. etc. Well nothing has turned up and I haven't worked anything out.....and believe me, I have tried...and some!

I have always been a firm believer in the 'where there's a will there's a way' principle but this time it just ain't happening.

And so I have capitulated and finally lowered my sights to renting just a room, I hate the thought of it. I know I might meet nice people, make new friends, see a little more of life but none of that compensates for the fact that at 50 I want/need some privacy. I have lived devoid of privacy for two years now, I am desperate to live a 'normal' life again, have my own space but it would appear wanting and having are not the same thing. Even one room is going to cost me in excess of £500 pcm and those are hard to find for various reasons, my age being the biggest.

Most flat/house shares are younger people (who haven't yet had a chance to screw their life as I have) and they (understandably) don't want to share with someone who is probably older than their parents. People my age it seems are usually more sorted (no shit) that I am and don't share houses.

Hey ho....it looks like I'm going to have to just suck it up and look happy, I have no other option unless lady luck suddenly springs a surprise...but let's face it, that's not gonna happen either.

None of this does anything for ones self esteem I might add.

Jeez....I owned my own flat at 19 yrs old and this is just absolutely nothing like where I anticipated my life would be at this stage......

Bum!

Spring things!

'Buzzzz'

'Make a wish'

'Bells'


*Click images to enlarge.

Half a century!

So, last Wednesday, yes, the 13th wouldn't you know it, saw me reach my half century!

I can't believe it, where did all that time go, I certainly don't feel like I was there for all of it and as I'm sure everyone bleats, I definitely don't feel it! I'm not entirely sure exactly what age I do feel but it's not fifty, for heavens sake. Anywhere between about eight and twenty eight (occasionally about ninety eighthttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif, I'll admit), depending on the day, would be closer.....but there is no denying it. I am FIFTY and I don't like it one tiny little bit.

No other age bothered me, until this one they were all just numbers but this one bugs me, big time...jeez, even Saga will be at my door now bothering me with their unwanted attentions. Ergh.

I'm not exactly sure why I have such an issue with it, I really didn't think I would have. Maybe it's because my life is far from the place I ever dreamt it would be at this stage and even further from where I would like it to be...or maybe it's just that it sounds so bloody, heinously old, dammit!

Whatever, thus far I have not been persuaded to embrace this particular birthday....though I did have a good day despite it all! :)

Can anything else go wrong?

The answer to that is a resounding YES!

Wouldn't you just know it.

I don't know right now if I am more angry, disappointed, worried or just plain scared but mostly I just feel completely floored.

This of course concerns my imminent and necessary move of residence. I have maybe six to eight weeks left until I have to actually move from here and as my last post illustrated it hasn't been an easy task finding somewhere I could even remotely hope to afford.

However, after months of my brother and myself doing much hand wringing, brainstorming, manipulating of figures and plotting and planning we were almost there. In fact probably literally only a few weeks from my having my very own tiny home, some privacy, some self esteem, somewhere to call my own (in so much as renting can ever be) at last. I was so excited, I hardly dared believe it, it would have been tough financially, no more coffee in Nero's etc. etc. and it would have taken every last penny to keep said roof over my head but it would have been worth it, so worth it.

You will notice I speak in the past tense, for today, out of the blue, I was informed that the working tax credit I was awarded nine months ago is being cut. We are not talking pennies here, we are talking upward of a fifth of my entire income....which when you have no disposable income at all makes the whole thing fall apart instantly. Fin.

I've checked it out, there is no error (other than the minutiae of the bloody legislation in the first place), there is nothing I can do.

I can't really even bring myself to talk about it right now without risking dissolving into tears.

There is no 'Plan B'...we were already at about 'Plan G'.

Fuck...sorry but just FUCK! :(

Oh...and to add to my woes I'm 50 next week and this isn't even close to where I imagined my life to be with half a century gone. I feel very old!

Rising damp!

After something of an even more prolonged absence than usual I have finally made it back here in an effort to update and to detail some of what has kept me from blogging much lately. My random missives on Facebook have caused some questions and concerns from some of you kind people and so I thought it was time I pulled my finger out and posted something at least!

This is gonna be a long one, be warned!

My current situation goes back a fair way, in fact all the way back to my fathers death in November 2009. I still, for the sake of my families privacy, can't go into great detail but suffice to say that since then my mother has struggled to come to term with her loss and also with significant memory issues which only became apparent once my father had died.

To say it has been a nightmare for both her and myself would be something of an understatement, I think I can safely say it has been pretty much the hardest thing I have had to cope with in my life and despite support from my siblings, as the one living here all the time for me it has been a constant internal battle of emotions, and patience and at times a complete feeling of frustration and exasperation and of feeling I was becoming completely overwhelmed by it all. My stress levels have been through the roof and if anyone had told me that once we lost my dad I would have to deal with this situation immediately afterwards I think I would have run screaming into the hills there and then.

And it continues, thought after almost a year of doctors and appointments a few months back we at last got some answers and a little help with a way forward. Day to day little has changed but being armed with more information instead of trying to deal with it all 'blind' makes it a little easier. There have been times though when I really felt so 'up against it' that I couldn't see a way to cope any longer. On many of those occasions I wished I could blog the details just to vent but I couldn't and still can't but I can now at least share a little of it and of how it affects me. That is not to underestimate the impact on my mother herself or on my other family members but this is my blog and hence it's my thoughts and feelings that are here.

So, where does that bring me too now?

Well, the current state of play is this: it has been decided that my mother will cope better in a different and smaller house for various reasons and so our family home, of over 45 years, has been put on the market to enable her to move to a lovely new retirement apartment nearby. She will move just as soon as the building is completed which is projected to be May/June and whether this house sells by then is not relevant, if it doesn't we have made other arrangements.

And that leaves me with something of a dilemma. Yes, when the going has got tough over the last 18 months sometimes all I have wished for was to be able to move out and escape the problems here, I have been desperate for some privacy and peace and quiet at times but the reality of achieving that is a whole other thing now I have to!

My problem is this. I earn little above minimum wage, we live near London and prices to rent even a small studio apartment are hideous (upwards of £600pcm...including absolutely nothing). I have viewed a few but those one would like to live in I just can't consider financially and even those that could never be classed as a remotely 'bijou residence' seem to be out of my league.

Plan B, much though it's not a route I wish to go, is to rent a room. It's hardly where I anticipated my life would be at my age, I hate the idea of living like a student in one room and sharing amenities with strangers..... I feel like it will be my own personal version of 'Rising damp' (that reference may be lost on non-UK readers) but even that is proving difficult to achieve! It seems very few people want someone of my age to house/flat share which is kind of understandable, when I was student age I doubt I would have wanted to share with someone of my current age. it would have felt like sharing with a parent!

So, I am a little stuck. This seems to be the story of my life, it feels like I just launch from one crisis to the next sometimes and I keep wading through them in the hope there will be a period eventually of some degree of simplicity in my life...but there never seems to be.

So there you have it, a not so brief update on what is and what has been going on in gemmak's-ville. Don't ask me where I will be in three months time because right now I haven't go the vaguest bloody idea.

Just call me Miss Jones!

Nuts!

Well, if life wasn't nuts before it certainly is now!

Everything is upside down and I hit the ground running most days lately.

As soon as I stop the running for a moment I will update with more details.

As ever, it's not simple. No sh*t Sherlock!

Ann Summers, a handsome stranger and the demise of cool!

I am, as anyone who knows me personally will testify, not easily embarrassed, I'm pretty up-front and very little offends or fazes me....yesterday however I got my comeuppance and my very own 'Carry On' moment!

This is one of those occasional posts that I have to make an effort to word very carefully, something else that doesn't come naturally but here goes....

So 'N' and I were indulging in a little retail therapy yesterday afternoon and whilst he went off to purchase something mundane I decided to patronise the local purveyor of a well known store of let's say 'intimate' goods, Anne Summers, for educational purposes only of course.

I was happily perusing one particular shelf when a rather handsome man appeared next to me, I had a vague feeling I knew him but dismissed it and carried on about my business. A minute or two later he turned to me and said 'I think we know each other'......

It was at this point I was suddenly painfully aware that I had in my hand an item offered for sale which was vibrating wildly and which I appeared not to be able to turn off....dammit.

A short conversation ensued about where we might know one another from and all the time I was still starkly aware that I was having this conversation with a handsome stranger with the aforementioned item still in my hand and still failing to turn off! I tried to put it down on the shelf but it just bounced merrily and loudly and I had to retrieve it again and ask a sales assistant to turn it off for me!

Jeez....my usually cool, unembarrassed exterior was fast disappearing but trying to keep it together I stupidly picked up another item of similar 'genre' pretending to be completely at ease in the company of this stranger and telling myself we were both adults and there was nothing to be uncomfortable about. Who was I trying to kid?!

It was at this point, when in my state of fluster, my unknown companion declared he remembered where we knew one another from and that we both regularly frequent my local branch of Caffe Nero, that the whole situation deteriorated spectacularly.

In my surprise I very un-cooly dropped the item I was holding onto the hard slick floor with a very audible thud causing other customers to turn and look.....on impact it turned itself on, 'danced' manically across the floor for what seemed like forever and then fell apart.

The demise of my cool was complete and utter as I watched the offending item bounce around the floor while I scrabbled after it trying to retrieve it and make my apologies to the staff for the damage.

My handsome cohort was trying his best, but not succeeding, to politely not laugh too obviously while I tried desperately to ignore the very definite feeling of embarrassed perspiration trickling down my back and to gather my wits and scuttle out of the place with a tiny degree of dignity intact.

I suspect I failed dismally!

.....and the thought that I will likely run into this guy again in Caffe Nero is not lost on me. my fall from cool grace will be complete!