Egg and Bacon Muffin Cups Part 2!

So I didn't really follow the recipe to the letter...
Being vegetarian, I already had to improvise! I'd never eaten or cooked with veggie bacon before so I was already a little bit clueless as to what to do.
The muffin tins were a little bit too big, maybe an inch in circumference, for the bacon strips too but I was making six and I had two strips left so I thirded the remaining ones and just slotted them in - it worked pretty well!

The granary bread circles were made with scone cutters - the smallest one I had was just perfect. And all in all, bread, bacon, and egg, everything fitted as though it'd been made for muffin cups! When I brought them through to the bf, they were a hit too and I was proclaimed a culinary genius.

I'll definitely be trying them again!
I'll post a photo up in a bit. They're so cute!

As for the rest of today, work was dullllll. There was, of course, the dreaded christmas music and I had a headache within half an hour. Then there was security alarms going off all over the place, and a police visit for something unrelated, and then shouting people, and a fire alarm drill. For a six hour shift it dragged... When my break eventually arrived, I realised that I'd lost the money that I'd brought with me - I was either going to buy lunch or a bus ticket home. I decided on lunch but then it didn't matter in the end since I had the change for a banana and had to walk home anyway.
Hopefully tomorrow's shift will be better!

Veggie Bacon and Egg Muffins

This is what I intended to write about last night. Well, this morning. Whenever. That last post was supposed to be about this:

Bacon and Egg Muffin Cups, Veggie Style!

I've see these floating around the internet a lot in the last few months. They seemed sort of revolutionary and obvious at the same time - especially with the internet's obsession with bacon.

I honestly don't know how that obsession is a thing, I mean, bacon's great and all but it's not that great... Don't tell anyone I said that!

I found this recipe on Cooking Whims.

Basically, you put circles of bread in a muffin tin, wrap some bacon around the cup bit and then fill the space in the middle with an egg. Cook the whole lot for 10-15 minutes and serve. Voila! Egg and Bacon Muffin Cups!

Now a few of you might notice a problem here. My partner and I are vegetarian. Bacon isn't vegetarian - shocking, I know. What I did buy though was Quorn bacon. Now I've never had it before but apparently it tastes reasonably similar to the meaty bacon. So I'm going to give these muffins a shot. By the time that this blog gets to the internet, we'll have eaten them, for better or worse and I'll be able to review them tomorrow night after work. I'll try to reign in my christmas related anger after work tomorrow so that I can write happily about the muffin cups. Maybe I'll do some yoga before I blog...

Clearly I should do yoga before I blog anyway - then I might appear wholesome and well-adjusted rather that batshit insane...

Anywayyyyy!

I'm off to make bacon and egg muffin cups! If you make them, or make a variation of them, let me know how it goes!

Gym Times!

It's decided. I prefer the gym to people.

*There's quite a bit more profanity in this than I would usually use. You've been warned.*

I don't even particularly like most of the people at my gym right now.
Granted that's because I don't know them and I've only been going a few weeks and they all seem like scary, steroid-filled meatheads but still: they're preferable to most of the irl people I know. As a side note, it took me no less than seven attempts at writing 'irl' there - my mac kept correcting it to 'url'... Clearly it's not hip on the lingo at the moment. Anyway...

I've come to the realisation that most of the people I know irl just bring me down and burden me with all their shit. I am so over that. I mean come on, I'm sick of being everyone's go to girl when they're bitching and moaning about things that they could have prevented. I'm not going to go into specifics but I'm sure you get the idea.
I love helping people and being there for people but I sort of expect the same liberties. I mean if I'm having a shitty day, I want them to take five minutes out of being so wrapped up in their own problems to help me out. Of if my meds are fucking me up - I need to be able to talk about that crap. What I most certainly do not need is my so called friends to get all uncomfortable and change the subject as soon as possible. Or talk over me. Or stop talking to me at all. Or conveniently forget that we were supposed to be meeting up.
None of that. None of that shit. I'm done. What I want, what I need, is people who are going to help me. People who are going to cut me a break when I need it or, hell, even when I don't need it - just when I want it!

I'm sorry, I really am, about all the rants in the posts this week. I've just been realising a lot about myself. I haven't been taking as many propranolol as directed either - I keep forgetting - but to be perfectly honest, I think I'm coming across some fairly ground-breaking realisations about myself right now. I'm supposed to take 3 per day but they were making me really tired and even 2 a day was slashing my energy levels. Right now I'm taking 1-2 per day when I remember and I'm feeling so much better.
I'm still having really depressive days when I just can't shift the cloud. And times like yesterday I just burst into tears for no reason. Yesterday I was tense and paranoid and worried about everything and then I went to the gym and within 30 minutes I was perfectly fine. It's like freaking magic!

Then I go on Facebook (the devil in disguise) and within seconds I'm freaking miserable. I realise that I really, really don't like most of them! I don't really care about most of the ones that I haven't spoken to in months. Or who haven't made an effort to talk to me.
In fact, as of writing that last paragraph, I've gotten rid of like a fifth of my 'friends' on Facebook. Any people whose names were met with 'who the fuck are they?' or 'I'm sick of their shit.' or 'I haven't spoken to them in x years and I can't see me actually talking to them again.' have gone. I could get rid of more but I kept a few for nostalgia like school friends and the like.

I'm feeling slightly better already. I like that I've realised that my own health is important. I needed that. Especially after this summer. I don't really know what's triggered it, I think I just feel as though it's time now, to look after myself and to take care of myself until I'm better.

Back to the original point!

I love, love, LOVE the gym.

I mean, I kinda hate it when I'm sitting in bed on the internet and I know that I need to go and put on some pants (yes, underwear, not trousers - over-share, I know) and some real clothes and brush my hair and drag myself up the street to the gym where all the scary men are. But once I've done my warm up and I've started my first rep everything else just melts away.
When I'm there it becomes my form, my technique, the weight I'm lifting and how much it does (or doesn't) burn when I'm finishing my last rep. I know that I'm overweight, I don't feel any less self-conscious about my fat rolls there than anywhere else but at least, when I'm there, I can say: 'Well, fuck you all, haters,  at least I'm working on it.'
At least I've gotten my ass out of bed and into some moisture control trousers and into the gym.
And hell, this emotional benefit? I've never felt that before! Not really, anyway. I get it from yoga but it doesn't last long really. I didn't get it from karate in the later years - I mostly hated it all the time. I resented the fact that I didn't get the chance to learn. I resented the people, my instructor, all of it. I sort of got it from running but I think, mentally, I wasn't in as good a place then as I am now - I put myself down way too much to get a buzz from anything.

My diet's still pretty sucky. I could be doing that a lot better and, surprise, surprise, I guilt-trip myself about that too but it's better than it was! Apart from tea tonight. That's going to be a massive cheat...

I've decided though, that I'm going to be bad ass. I'm going to be strong and, maybe not ripped per se, but I'm going to have 'dat ass'. The ass of squats and the body of weight training. Fuck cardio workouts. Well not really. They have their uses but my workouts mostly concern of less than 10 minutes of cardio to warm up, then around 45 minutes of weights, then 10-20 minutes of cardio to cool down again.
I'm going to be military grade fit again because frankly, I owe it to myself. I don't deserve to be fat and miserable and unhealthy. Fuck that shit. All of it. Nope.

Boom inspiration! God knows where all that came from... It's true though. And this isn't going to be one of those 'does it for a month and then never again' things. This is it, baby.

15 Things That You Just Don't Say To Depressed People.

1. "What have you got to be depressed about?"
Someone said this to me once. He was the chief instructor at the karate club that I taught at. He then mocked me in front of the entire club at a grading. How professional... Needless to say, I haven't been back since.

2. "But you've got it so easy!"
Yeah, my life must seem pretty cushty when you compare it to other things but that's not really the point here.

3. "Why are you depressed? You're young!"
Why is age a factor? How the fuck are you to judge that?

4. "Tell your doctor that you don't need those drugs."
Well I would love to be able to tell my doctor that. Unfortunately, I've tried going without them: I had horrifying, mind-bending hallucinations, ridiculous paranoia and nearly had a full mental breakdown. I'm going to wait until they tell me that I can reduce my dose/stop taking them. Thankyouverymuch.

5. "Tell your therapist that she doesn't know what she's talking about."
I think you don't know what you're talking about.

6. "Just cheer up." "Just snap out of it." "Pull yourself together." "Get a grip."
Oh shit, man, I never thought of that! Holy crap, you have just revolutionised my life.

7. "I was depressed once."
I can't even think of something to write here. That's nice? I dunno...

8. "Why are you so miserable?"
Oh I dunno... Maybe it's just because my brain is chemically imbalanced in some way through no fault of my own - usually it's relating to how I was bullied horrifically as a child. I just can't get those negative voices out of my head now that I'm all grown up.

9. "What are you crying about now?"
Honestly? Fuck knows. I'm just really fucking sad and everything - yes, every single goddamn thing - is bothering me/making me paranoid/upsetting me. I can't control it. I can guarantee it's more annoying/scary for me than it is for you.

10. "Well [x, y and z] bad things have happened to me and I'm not depressed."
Congratulations? Well done? What do you want me to say? What are you trying to do? Are you trying to make me feel worse because that's what's happening here...

11. "You're just weak."
Thank you. Truly,  thank you, so much, for that. That's exactly what I needed right now - some heartless scumbag making me feel even more worthless.

12. "You must be so brave."
This is an odd one. It usually just makes me really uncomfortable. Is it big headed to agree? Am I being ungrateful if I disagree? Ugh just smile and nod, Sarah, accept the compliment in a noncommittal way...

13. "It must be nice."
What must be nice? Hating myself? Feeling worthless? Having no energy whatsoever? Constantly putting myself down? Being heavily reliant on medication? Yeah, it sounds like a ball. Who knows what I'm always so down about...

14. "Why would you ever want to kill yourself?!"
Wow, you honest to god really just asked me that? I'm not even... I can't even... None of the things that I want to say will organise themselves into words right now - that is how angry I am. I think I'll just stab you instead. Thanks for your judgement though. Your opinion has been noted.

15. "What's it like when you're depressed?"
Fucking horrible. I'm still human though - I can still work and clean and look after myself most of the time. I get that you're curious but you could just ask the internet before you offend someone.

These are all things that friends, co-workers, family members etc have said to me. Unfortunately, those aren't the responses I gave at the time. Nor are they really what I felt at the time either, to be honest. At the time, I tended to just be so confused/angry/upset that my ever-so-pleasant persona came over me and I answered kindly, as if talking to a curious and mildly offensive child. Or gave a sympathetic response. One of the two.
There was one occasion when I'd reached the end of my rope and I responded with: "Well, I guess when I tried, and failed, to off myself this summer, I figured that I should probably keep going to therapy and taking my meds. I think they're probably right about my depression..."

Sorry for the second rant - this wasn't deliberate, I'm just feeling cantankerous, I guess. Christmas and all that...

Oh December, I think you'll be the death of me...

I love the winter. I just really, really wish that Christmas wasn't a part of it. I used to love Christmas and to this day, I still love buying presents for people and seeing how happy it makes them. Getting presents myself makes me a little uncomfortable but that's not the issue here.
The issue is christmas music.
Carols, hymns, Mariah Carey, freaking Cliff Bloody Richard. I hate them all with a passion as burning as a thousand suns. There are three decent ones - The Pouges', Blink-182's and Chris de Burgh's.
Christmas decorations. All of the kitsch little cherubs and the creepy, rosy cheeked Santas and the stupid deelie bopper headbands and the jumpers. Oh god the jumpers. And even the onesies! This year, of course, we're inundated with onesies...
I can deal with penguins and reindeer and polar bears but only because they're actual things that I like for the rest of the year as well.

I hate to sound like a Scrooge but I just hate the hype. People are so angry this time of year and because I work in retail, Christmas is rammed down our throats like no other time of year. That and the customers are so freaking angry. All the bloody time. I feel like shouting at them that it's not my poxy fault that they've once again left their christmas shopping until the last minute and to be more organised next year. If it's so goddamn important, why don't they put more effort in?!

I'm done. I'm done with christmas cheer. I'm not going to go out of my way to be miserable or unpleasant. I'm still going to ask my customers how they're christmas shopping is going. I'm still going to be sympathetic when they tell me how disorganised they are. But there is no way in hell that I'm going to wear those fucking antlers that I was given yesterday. I nearly slapped the man who referred to me as Rudolph and I nearly threw them at the next woman who did it. I was shaking with anger then and, writing about it, I'm shaking with anger again now. I can feel my heart pounding. This shit isn't good for me!

On that note, I'm not sure Christmas - in the way that western society celebrates it anyway - isn't good for anyone else either.
My therapist told me in our last session that she always wants to check in on people more during the christmas period because of the strain it puts on people. I think, if people didn't put as much pressure on each other, they would enjoy the holiday more.

Sorry about the rant.
Well, let's face it, we all know I'm not really sorry. It was going to happen sooner or later. It's the 5th of December and I'm already sick to death of christmas. Here's hoping the rest of the month goes better...

TGIO!

Across the world, writers - both professional and amateur alike - are celebrating the end of another NaNoWriMo. It's been a helluva month for everyone involved as always and as a first time Municipal Liaison, it's been particularly stressful for me! While I'm sure that MLs across the world will say that too,  I wanted to share some of my triumphs and hardships on here as a means of reflecting on my MLness so I can improve for next year.

1. I was way under prepared. 

I really had no idea what I was getting myself into at the time. My region hadn't had an ML for a few years for one reason or another and the Wrimos had gotten used to that, I think. Yes there were a lot of first timers but at the same time, they had about as much clue as to what they were doing as I did! They did do exceptionally well though, and they were really understanding when I was in a flap.

To combat this, I'll do the following things:

Next year, I'll make sure I've got all my resources sorted well before NaNo actually starts. I'll not rely on the shoddy library printer either - I've been meaning to buy my own so I'll be using that.

I'll book rooms ahead of time in pubs, cafés, bars etc so that we always have somewhere to go. I tried that this year but my group size was just too unreliable.

2. I got stressed and hopeless when my Wrimos didn't show up for meet-ups.

This triggered my depression and I really struggled for a couple of weeks during November. I pretty much just stopped writing because I just didn't see why it mattered. Of course when I actually finished, after clawing it back for a few days, it was amazing. Loads of my Wrimos finished ahead of time so that was lovely too.

I realise that next year, I'll just have to take the numbers as they come. I know now not to expect a huge turn out or even a reliable one. I know that people will say by text that they'll do something or they'll help out but then, a lot of the time, they actually don't when it comes down to it. It's a shame but that's just people I guess!

3. I didn't look after myself enough.

I spent that much time worrying and staying up until ungodly hours that I didn't get enough sleep at all. And, on top of that, because I was staying up so late, I kept forgetting to take my medication. On top of the new hormones from getting the coil out and the implant in, by the end of the month, I was a paranoid, stressed, emotional wreck. I was even hallucinating yesterday and the day before!

Next year, I'll endeavour to (at the very least) take my medication on time. I'll try to keep my bed time as regular as possible too.

4. I could have scheduled more Wrimo time.

I only sent one email a week and I wasn't really that omnipresent on the forums either. To be honest though, my Wrimos felt that the OLL sent out too many emails so in a way I was  glad that I wasn't part of that problem.

I did however, post my mobile number, email and twitter addresses so that my Wrimos could get in touch at any time. If they didn't utilise that then, frankly, that isn't my fault.

5. My college work took a back seat, to my detriment.

Although I didn't fail my module, by any stretch, I didn't do as well as I could have either. I could have planned my photoshoot in advance and researched more, I could have done the shoot on time and not handed everything in late.

All of these things I could have avoided and gotten a better grade. Never mind though, I suppose, it's passed now so there's nothing I can do but do better at the next module.

All in all, I still feel that it was a success. I crossed that 50,000 word finish line with a few hours to spare and a whole bunch of my Wrimos were successful too. My meet-ups were attended, even if numbers were low, and people had fun and made friends too. Obviously, I want to do it all again next year and, hopefully, I'll have less work on at college then too.

1 new photos on my Flickr!

Take a look http://www.flickr.com/photos/shootsforthemoon/

NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo

Now apparently, according to 20SB (twenty-something bloggers) NaBloPoMo is a thing. It stands for (I believe) National Blog Posting Month. Now I've heard that it's a thing that runs all year round, rather than just for one month a year, like NaNoWriMo.

When I was on WordPress, I posted every day for a year the first six months (ish) of 2011. I'm aiming to do that again but for just a month. Then maybe two months. Then maybe a year. We'll just see how it goes.
I left the WordPress blog for a few reasons. I wanted a fresh start. I wanted a bit of privacy (ironic, I know). I wanted to get rid of a follower troll. I hated the new layout. The list goes on...

I spent a few minutes going back over my WordPress blog when I wrote this post. While it was only two years ago, it feels like a lifetime. I am nothing like who I was in so many ways. I mean, I haven't changed a lot but, especially since starting the meds and getting therapy, I'm just different somehow. Sometimes it's fairly obvious but at others it's sort of intangible.
I guess it's a good thing. Sometimes I feel like I haven't got much of an identity, much of a personality, but I know that that's not really true.

What's a shame though, is everything that I've lost. The friends I've moved on from or the friends who've moved on from me. It's sad but I suppose it's just the way life is. People grow apart. Especially when they're living in different cities, doing different things, hanging out with different people. There's always more that can be done to stop it happening. I could call more, text more, message more. But so could they. I imagine they've been busy. But so have I. It's no one's fault, not really. But it's still sad.
I imagine, with a few of these cases, that everything could be fine if we could just hangout a few times. Unfortunately, that's unlikely to be a thing in the near future. That old lack of money and time to go down the country thing is rearing its head again.
It's time to stop living in the past. It's no good for anyone.

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." - J. K. Rowling.

Well that escalated quickly!
What I meant to post about was my progress with NaNoWriMo but I'm finding that my blogging topics are getting a little hard to control. Much as my novel is getting a little hard to control too...
Thus far, I've managed to keep up with most of the word count. I've fallen behind a little in the last couple of days however. My mind just hasn't been in it. I don't know why really. It's just difficult to focus. I guess it's the only thing I've really had to focus on since my gran died and I'm just struggling with it.
To be honest I'm just struggling generally. Life is fucking hard. It should come with a manual...
In lieu of a manual, I'm going to stick with this blog. And writing. A bit of escapism always helps.

Racial Profiling

*Check out this here blog post: it inspired me to write my own take, though sheltered, on the views that are explored in this issue at this time.*

As you may or may not have heard, a young woman was murdered at the beginning of November. Now I know that there are likely many other more pressing news stories and other tragic events and I am, by no means, belittling them. I just simply feel that this news story has a prominent message on our society and the way we think.

Renisha McBride, 19, was shot in the face and killed after a car accident.
What actually occurred here is unclear at the moment. Some reports say that the girl was going door to door asking for help, others say she was trying to get home. Almost all of them point out that she was a black girl in a predominantly white neighbourhood where black people shouldn't be seen after sunset.

That is what I want to talk about.
The shooter claims that he thought that someone was breaking into the house and also that his 12 gauge shotgun 'discharged accidentally'.
Now, setting aside the fact that I find that very hard to believe indeed, I want to talk about the fact that nothing has been done.
The white man that shot Renisha, while he has been spoken to by the police, remains free to go about his life. Surely he should be in custody? Or, at very least, be under house arrest? Or something, anything at all, that isn't just free to go about his day to day, his normal business.
The fact that these towns, districts, counties, exist where people of a certain race, be it black, white, asian, can't be seen after dark for fear of their lives is terrible! It's archaic! It's something that I'd expect to see either in the deep south in the 1930s or in Germany in the 1940s or somewhere in the 3rd World that is ruled by suspicion and superstition. It is most certainly not something that should be happening in America. Or England. Or anywhere for that matter.

I grew up in a fairly rough area. Now 'rough' in England, in the North-East, is starkly different from 'rough' in London, or Libya, or southern America. But all the same, if someone was trying to break into our house, my step-dad had a large stick, sort of like a baseball bat in size, shape and weight, and I know that, on more than one occasion, he has chased someone down the street with it. Guns are not widely available in England like they are in America. We just don't have those laws but, similarly, we don't seem to need them.
Now I'm not sure if it's just me being naive but while our justice system leaves a lot to be desired - and that's a post for another time - our police don't need to gun people down to be effective. England has one of the lowest gun homicide rates in the world. Because we don't have guns.
The solution to stopping gun crime is not to give more people guns. If there's a shooting in a school, the way to remedy that is not to give the security guards guns or hire more armed security but to take the guns away! I don't see how that's so difficult!

As for racism and racists? I genuinely believe that this is a real flaw in society. Anyone who believes that skin colour has an effect on how a person can work or learn or be a human is flawed beyond measure. Yes, skin colour can define a person. It can be something to be proud of. It can give you an identity, a home, a sense of belonging. Most black people would probably like to be seen as black people, whether that's Nigerian, Jamaican, Caribbean, and so on, much in the same way that white people want to be seen as white people be that English, Irish, American, European.
I'm a white girl, I don't want to be seen for anything other than I am. I have Nigerian family - lots and lots of Nigerian family - they are so incredibly proud of their culture and heritage. I can't imagine it being taken away from them.

Everyone wants to be seen for who they are. They don't want to be pigeon-holed into something that they're not because it fits a viewpoint better. Just in the same way that it's wrong and illogical to discriminate against eye-colour and hair colour, such is it wrong to discriminate where skin colour is involved.

Now I thought, with the election of President Obama, that America was streaking forwards where race issues were concerned but now it feels worse than it has in a long time. People are segregating themselves and others are just letting it happen.
The white, middle-class politician, whether male or female, will never understand issues of race in the same way that a working class black man or woman will. They will never feel racism in the same way, every day of their lives. They will always have the opportunity to walk away. To make it stop. To change. They can support people speaking out against racism but they cannot do it themselves. What they say will never be as powerful as what someone who has lived it will say.

Renisha McBride was murdered, unlawfully. As yet, no justice has been given.

Holy Crap!

Evening folks!

I've just had a wonderful revelation as I loaded up my blogger homepage this evening. As of 7.30pm today, I've had 1,005 views on this blog! Now granted that I've had this site nearly a year now, that doesn't really seem like all that many.
However, nearly a quarter of those views have been in the last 30 days.
30 days!

Now that seems like a canny spike to me. It may well be because I've had a link to my site in a obvious place (not Facebook, which I am contemplating, however).
But anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.
Thank you for making this blog a pleasure to write. For showing that people are at least vaguely interested in what I have to say. I'd love some comments that were more substantial than my 'posted to Google+' ones that happen automatically to every blog I post when I post it but not to worry! These things will come in time, I don't doubt.

I'm going to get back to NaNoWriMo now, I've still got a couple of hundred words to write before midnight to keep up with my word total. This is the first time I've managed to pretty much keep up the entire way through the month - I know it's only the 12th but still. That's a big achievement for me!

Thanks again, for being awesome! I'll do a proper post once I've hit 20k in NaNo which should be in a couple of hours.

Until then, au revoir!

Vegetarian Fish n Chips and StayClassy

Now as you may or may not already know, I'm vegetarian. (No, I'm not a member of PETA and, as an organisation, they disgust me).
Now since going veggie 18 months ago, I've found it pretty easy. My partner's vegetarian, so that helps a lot, and before the switch, I never really ate a lot of meat. The only thing that I ever really 'missed' was salmon. I only ever ate salmon maybe once every two months (or less) when we went out for sushi and even then, I'd have maybe one or two pieces of salmon sashimi and that'd be it.
I always ate a lot of fish, when I ate meat but, like I said, it wasn't a big miss. Occasionally I had fish and chips cravings when I passed a chippy but that was it. I always loved battered cod from the chippy and I think I always will think fondly of it, particularly since it was locally and ethically sourced.
However, a while back, like 16 months ago, I discovered vegan fish n chips at Jack Sprats at the top of Chillingham Road. Sadly, Jack Sprats has now closed down but the craving for vegan rich n chips has not gone away. This led me to do a bit of internet trawling until I found these beauties:

1. Vegan Fish n Chips with halloumi
2. Vegan Fish n Chips with tofu
3. Vegan Fish n Chips also with tofu (and quinoa)

To say that I was excited to try them out would be an understatement. I'm going to buy some tofu tomorrow night and give the second one a try this week. I'll let you know how it goes.

In the meantime, NaNoWriMo's going really well and I'd be honoured if you could take a look at Newcastle's StayClassy page (and maybe even sponsor us too!). The OLL's a great cause, bringing literacy and creative writing to underprivileged communities around the world. So thanks in advance, for perusing it. 

I'm going to get back to writing now. Have a nice night/day wherever you are!

Lament Of The Girl At The Rock Show

This week, the rock and metal scene in Newcastle took two heavy blows. 

Trillians Rock Bar, formerly The Man In The Moon, closed down. Permanently. One day it was there and the next, with no warning whatsoever, it was closed. It's parent company went into administration and thusly, the management and all of the staff were made redundant, effective immediately. Of all the pubs and bars in Newcastle, Trillians wasn't the best but it was my favourite. 

It was a little shabby, a bit cramped and kind of dark. It didn't serve food anymore and it was a touch expensive on the spirits but it was a rock bar and it was home. It was one of my favourite music venues - tiny, packed gigs every week - and it had the best, worst pub quiz in the world on Sunday nights. I still can't believe that it's gone really - despite it being empty most of the time, I always just thought that it'd last forever. It's the place my mum used to go when she was my age. Everyone seems to have been and loved it there. I have some amazing memories there and it'll always be held in high regard - no matter how shitty it was at times, it was a home away from home.

The other blow was Legends. After I turned eighteen, I spent 102 consecutive weekends there - only missing two, one for illness and one because I was in Germany. Sad, I know, but that's just what my friends and I did. Every Saturday, some Mondays and most Fridays, we went to Legends. We got wasted and danced it out. All our troubles, all our worries, all gone. I made great friends there. I lost great friends there. Importantly, I made great memories. Hundreds of them. I celebrated three of my own birthdays there and only remember two of them. Countless other birthday celebrations were had there too as well as engagement parties, hen dos, stag dos and other miscellaneous dos too. I fell in love there, fell out of love there, got over boys, got into girls. I grew up so much and got to act so much older than I am as well as be irresponsible and stupid, like eighteen year olds are. In the three years I went, I was only sick twice - probably a record for Legends' patrons - once because I'd been spiked earlier in the night and another because I had sunstroke and was dehydrated but didn't really realise it at the time...

Of the two, I think I'm more cut up about Trillians. Legends was my place but ever since Richie lost his job as the Saturday night DJ (because he pretty much played the same shit over and over) it just wasn't the same. It's decline was gradual. Trillians was torn away too soon.

Needless to say, I hope that something replaces them at the very least. Newcastle's rock scene could do with a reboot.

I Keep Saying I'll Do This Bumf More Regularly...

I do really mean it, each and every time. I will do this more. I can blog more regularly. I do have things worth writing about sort of. Also, I can never remember, but is 'bumf' one f or two?
I realise that four days isn't exactly a long break for me but I still feel like this blogging should be a daily thing - it's not as if I think less about things now than I did a few years ago when I did #postaday on Wordpress! If anything I think more and thus, I shall post more often than I currently do.
Realistically, I think I should aim for two or three posts a week maybe even five posts then I can have two responsibility free days where I can just veg out and play lots of Pokemon X or something... That sounds fairly reasonable but I know I'm going to have to set some sort of phone reminder for this kind of thing - much like I need one for taking my meds, eating, working et cetera. That said, I should probably take my meds now - it's far later than I realised and if I don't take them now, I won't wake up in time for work in the morning.

The other day, Matt got a cold. He was really ill and pretty much couldn't function. He remained steadfast in his opinion that, if I wasn't careful, I'd get his cold/flu/virus or whatever it was. It's been going around so I pretty much expected I would get it sooner or later. I just wish that it hadn't been the day after my gym induction.
Yesterday was my much anticipated induction at Goldstar Gym across the road. Writing it like that makes it cooler because then it's like a Pokemon gym. Because of my meds, I had to go to the doctor's to get a note saying that I was fit to join the gym. When I got my appointment (the first time) it wasn't with my GP or the Dr who sorts my meds, but just with one of the others. He was nice enough but then wanted to charge me £20 for a line and a quarter saying that, yes, I could indeed go to the gym. As it happened, I didn't have my card on me at the time so couldn't pay so couldn't get a note. However, all wasn't lost as I had an appointment with my therapist the next day anyway and she's a certified doctor so I reasoned that she might be able to do it herself. When I mentioned it, she agreed that it'd likely be amazing for me but as she wasn't a medical doctor, she couldn't advise on my ability to go to the gym in regards to my medication. She did however, advise that I either go to one of the doctors at the surgery that I was familiar with and one who was familiar with me and my situation or, at least, get a second opinion as someone else might only charge me £10 or indeed do it for free. I arranged an appointment with the Dr who sorts my medication but missed it (due to my medication, ironically) and ended up having to wait nearly two more weeks to get another appointment. This one, I got through luck and good timing rather than being able to pre-book appointments. It's ridiculous how hard it is to get a doctor's appointment these days! If I want to pre-book, I have to wait over a month sometimes - it's horrendous! Anyway, I'm sure most of you have the same problem so I'm going to stop whining and get on with it. I decided, since it's so hard to get appointments, that with this one, I was going to kill three birds with one stone.
The long and short of it is, I got my note for the gym.
It took about 3 minutes for the 'assessment' from start to finish and the note (a photo of which can be found on my Instagram for which there is a link on the top right of this post). He took my pulse and blood pressure and was like: 'Well, all that seems in order, I think the gym would do you good. Here you go.'
So that was Tuesday morning. I dropped the note off at the gym straightaway, thinking that I'd likely lose it if I took it home, and arranged an induction for the following Friday (which was yesterday).

The induction itself was longer than I expected - nearly 90 minutes from start to finish - but included a set of reps of every exercise (apart from leg raises) and a diet/nutrition plan. I was pretty nervous when I got there but managed the whole thing without making a twat out of myself so I was pretty proud by the end of it. The guy doing it didn't seem overly impressed that I was vegetarian and told me repeatedly (jokingly) that I should get some chicken fillets in me or, at the very least, some cans of tuna. I said that I would try and if I couldn't digest it, I'd stick to tofu, egg whites and cottage cheese. I think I'll stick to the veggie stuff anyway unless I absolutely have to (and I can't see that ever being a thing...)
I'll write more about the gym and fitness et cetera in another post, I'm going to have to draw this one to a close soon - the Mirtazapine's hit me slightly harder and somewhat faster than I anticipated! (Notice: I took my meds, like I have to and said I would but forget to occasionally from time to time yay!) Where was I going with this..? I've completely forgotten... Oh, yes!
So this morning, I woke up with a head full of cold. It was horrendous. And the weather was really grim too - sort of not too cold but rainy and weird.
By the time I got to work, my legs were so stiff from yesterday that I could barely walk and my head was so sore it was difficult to speak. Over the course of the day I haven't really gotten much better. I've taken some cold medication and some paracetamol but it doesn't seem to have helped. My nose is all bunged up and runny as hell and now it's also really sore from wiping it all the time. I've sneezed a few times which clears my head for a few minutes at a time but never longer. Even sinus massages aren't helping - now my eye sockets just feel slightly bruised...

Anyway, it's off to sleep for me now. Hopefully I'll write tomorrow. Maybe it'll be a lament for poor old Trillians...
Nighty night folks!

Non-NaNoWriMo Related News

As much as I'd like to write about the many things that have happened since my last proper update post, I can't. Nothing much really has happened. I've had a few NaNo meets and the washing machine broke. Plus there was a flat inspection and then the hoover broke too. Other than that very little has gone on.

College is still going fine, I'm still in my third year, still doing photography, still loving it. The only thing that's changed there is that I'm now fairly determined to do the top-up year in order to make my FdA a full BA in Photography once I've finished this summer. After my Gran died, I did a lot of thinking about it and, especially since Matt's going to be at college an extra year now, I think it's for the best. I'll get a more credible, more widely recognised and understood qualification plus more funding in that year. It may mean adjusting my work hours but hopefully that won't be too much of a problem. It'll also give me the means to set up my own business which is what I want to do in the long term after all!

Other news - exciting news, that is - concerns me going back to karate as a favourite thing and maybe, possibly opening my own club up in the spring this year. Hopefully between myself and the three/four others I'll be working with, we'll have our own permanent, 24 hour venue in which to run fitness classes, flexibility training, karate classes, kick-boxing, tae kwon do and sports massage sessions. I also want to start teaching yoga but at the moment I'm no where near good enough for that! We're going down to Birmingham in January to start our formal instructor training with a gentleman from Verve. I'm pretty excited (and simultaneously terrified).
In the same vein, I finally got approved for joining a gym by the doctor when I visited this morning. What one guy was going to charge me £20 for (and not actually give me a medical exam) I got for free from the doctor that sorts my medication. He's not my GP but at the moment he's as good as - he sorts my anti-depressants and anti-anxiety tablets as my GP was on maternity leave at the time and I'd rather not have too many people adjusting my medication here and there as they see fit! As soon as I got the note saying that I was deemed well enough to join the gym, I dropped it off at the gym in question and booked by induction for Friday afternoon. I'm super excited for it, if I'm honest, and a little bit nervous but to be honest, that's usually the best combination.
Now that I've got that sorted, I'm going to start eating paleo (again) and stick to it through doing 80:20. In short, I'll eat paleo 80% of the time but allow myself one day (or just a few meals) that aren't paleo compliant in order to not restrict myself so much that I can't stick to the way of eating. I really want to cut back on my gluten consumption too - after reading into what gluten can actually do to your digestive system and about how people who are sensitive don't often know it, I think it'd just be safer not to eat it. After all, it could be a contributor to my psoriasis and god knows I'll do anything to get rid of that!
I'm still doing fairly well after the light treatment ended. I've got a few patches on my face that have come back but I know that if I moisturise they'll calm down and, failing that, I've still got some Eumovate and Tacrolimus ointments. It's my scalp that's doing the worst at the moment but that's due to me not using the Sebco ointment and wearing my hair up or in hats because of work and the cold... Some days I feel like I shouldn't even bother keeping on top of all my creams and things because I feel so awful about myself anyway. Then I remember that I always feel better when my skin and hair look better - I worry less about my appearance and am generally happier. Plus I'm more willing to do other things to look after myself such as my CBT activities, exercise and healthy eating.
Another reason that I was at the doctors today is that I found a lump in my breast and Matt insisted that I got it checked out. My mum had a breast cancer scare earlier this year so it'd be a lie to say that I wasn't worried about it but, fortunately, the doctor thinks that it's unlikely to be anything serious and is likely just a cyst that may need drained (which is pretty disgusting but certainly not cancer so yay!) Even so, he's sending me off to the special under-30s breast clinic in the next couple of weeks to get an ultrasound just in case and for them to treat it in whatever way they see fit.

That's everything that I can think of for now but I shall be sure to update if anything else comes up!

NaNoWriMo and Being An ML

As many of you will know, it's NaNoWriMo in a few days time. For those of you who don't know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month - a phenomenon that started in America in the late 90s, by a guy called Chris Baty and a few of his friends, and has spread across the world like wildfire since then.
I discovered NaNoWriMo in early 2010 because of a girl in my english language class. I didn't end up keeping in touch with Charlotte and I regret that deeply but at the same time, she's led me to meet so many other people that I'm almost glad I didn't know anyone else doing it when I started. Because I didn't know anyone, I got to know people on the forums and started going to the in-person meet-ups in cafes and things last year.
It was also the year I found out that we didn't have a Municipal Liaison.
Now MLs aren't essential. They're handy for organising things and getting people together as well as creating goodies and incentives for the Wrimos to reward their hard work but largely their job can be done by the Wrimos themselves. They don't get paid and the only real reward is a tonne of extra work, occasional angry rants from writers and a load of fretting over whether everything is going to turn out fine with their Wrimos and  the 50,000 words they're churning out on top of their real lives.

Now up until last year, I'd never 'won' NaNo. And by won I mean I'd never hit the 50k word count in the 30 days of November. Last year, however, I decided it was time. Come hell or high water I was going to hit that ambitious target and thus earn a purple banner under my avatar and the ability to legitimately buy a winner's t-shirt in the beginning of December.
And I did it. Just.
I succeeded and over shot the 50k by 506 words. Happy just isn't what I would use to describe that feeling. When I hit 50,506 on the evening of November 30th, it felt curiously like the world had ended and started all at the same time. I'd finished that one thing that I'd been striving to do. It was all over. I had achieved my goal and had no where to go and nothing to do afterwards. But at the same time there were so many new opportunities. I still needed to write the actual ending - I may have hit my targets and deadlines but I was still a few chapters short of the final scenes. I needed to edit - oh boy did I need to edit that baby. With plot holes that could engulf small nations, there was some serious explaining and patching up to do. I finished my baby and started editing in May - I was just too devastated by the fact that NaNo was over that I couldn't pick it back up. That and the time flew by so quickly that I barely even realised that we were in 2013! I finished writing and editing in June - I didn't edit much, it's still my raw, raw NaNo baby, but I put away the document and haven't opened it again since. I will, for sure, finish editing and get a copy printed - for myself if nothing else - but for now, it's resting. We're getting some separation so that I can look over it objectively.
In the summer the ML applications opened.

One of my major driving forces for finishing NaNo last year was so that I could apply to be an ML. Even if my application was rejected, I still wanted to try. I knew that I could bring a better, more communal, more involving NaNo to Newcastle and Durham and I wanted to give it a shot. I filled in the application, sent it off and waited. And waited. And waited.
It went on and on until finally, when I was out shopping, I got an email saying that my application had been successful and to look out for other important emails in the weeks to follow.
So far I've had a massive number of really, really helpful emails as well as buckets of encouragement. Over the last few days, I've been writing packs and booklets for my region of Wrimos by hand and on the PC to put together little (hopefully) helpful writing kits to kickstart word counts and battle the dreaded writers block. I tied up the first half of the NaNo packs with string and a sticker and handed them out today - I think they were gratefully received by most. I think they're pretty cool to be honest and  there's the promise of foamy dinosaur stickers when people hit word count targets and slay the procrastination dragon and banish the writer's block bats.
Our haunts are mostly going to be the Settle Down Cafe and Bar Loco this year, with the possibility of Clayton Street Caffe Nero on Saturday afternoons. The food at both the Settle Down and Bar Loco is amazing and who can fault a good hot caffeinated beverage to get the creative juices flowing?

Checking In

So the last few weeks/months seem to have come straight from hell - special delivery too, might I add. After my last post, my gran deteriorated with alarming speed. An infection of some sort, and the whole heart rate thing were the cause of that. I visited her on Saturday evening and she was, obviously, very ill but she was also fairly stable. By Monday she could barely breathe on her own and, when I saw her in the early afternoon, had been moved to ICU.
At 5am on Tuesday morning, I got a call saying that we had to go in. The nurses at the hospital didn't think my gran would live long enough for us to get there. She held on for another hour and died just after 6am. It came out of nowhere and left us all in a shambles.

The three of us, my mum, auntie and I, organised the majority of the funeral details together. The day itself went without a hitch - for the most part - and there was a huge turnout at both the church and the crematorium. It just went to show how well-loved my gran was.

After that, I had a disciplinary at work for my absence at the end of August. After I explained to them how close I came to taking my own life they decided it would be against the company values to discipline me. They didn't do anything particularly helpful and I was allowed one day's worth of compassionate leave - my gran practically raised me so, even though I wasn't really entitled to any leave since she 'wasn't a direct relative', my special circumstances warranted a day off to organise the funeral.
Work's not gotten any better, I still pretty much hate it. The customers are awful and the staff aren't much better and, in all honesty, I can't wait for something else to come up so that I can leave.

In other news, college is going pretty well and I'm midway through my first two proper, graded projects (see my latest project here). On an even more fun (and nerve-wracking) note, NaNoWriMo is almost upon us! 50k words in 30 days whilst also working, studying and trying to corral a region for the first time? Total cake-walk...

Just when you think it's all over.

So my gran - the one mentioned in the earlier post today, who'd had a heart operation - had her check up with the consultant today. She'd not been doing too badly even though she hadn't really been doing enough exercise or drinking enough so we weren't expecting it to go badly. I don't think it went badly so much as created a mild concern for the consultant. She's being kept in again because her heart rate's too fast. I don't really know anything else just yet but hopefully it'll just be stress from being out of the house - she hasn't really left the house since her operation. She'd been out a couple of times but always with someone and, when it came to walking less than 500m to go to the doctors the other day, she wanted to be driven.
My gran used to be really independent and always busy - she was really physically fit and had a very 'make do and mend' out look on life and was generally a healthy, robust woman, if slightly overweight due to too many biscuits/carbs. I'm just worried that she's going to turn into one of these frail, sickly, old biddies who are scared to go anywhere in case something happens. We'd spend days in Newcastle walking, talking and shopping, stopping here and there for a bite to eat or a cup of tea but now it seems like that's never going to happen again and I'm worried that she's going to lose herself to this post-op fear.
It's probably nothing - maybe the consultant will give her a nudge in the right direction and she'll be back to her old self by the spring. She gets on well with Mr Lord, he's been her favourite doctor all along. Part of me wonders if it's because he's british and treats her like his own grandmother. She has that slightly narrow-minded personality that a lot of elderly people seem to have regarding 'foreign' doctors. Personally, as long as they speak the language well enough to work effectively, I don't see a problem with having doctors that weren't born and/or raised in Britain.

Anyway. I'm trying not to think about things that worry me, remember.

Today is my only free day this week - no college, no college work and no work. So far, I've pretty much wasted it. I was going to tidy and do yoga - spend the day improving my living and my living conditions. The only 'good' thing I've done is have a fairly healthy breakfast: overnight oats (fruit and nut muesli, a tbsp of maple syrup, topped up with low-fat natural yoghurt in a re-used salsa jar). The rest of my day thus far (at nearly 3pm) has been spent lamenting the death of iOS 6 and playing Papers, Please, which, if you haven't played it, I strongly recommend that you do. It has such a simple concept but it is in fact really captivating.
Regarding iOS 7, I'm not really a fan. It was too much of a change too quickly and nearly everything about its visuals is repulsive. It's cartoonish and child-like and too 'Android'. If I'd wanted something that looked and acted like an android, I'd have bought a friggin' android! I must admit, it is growing on me - very, very slowly. One of the features which I do really like is Airdrop. It's just so handy having aeroplane mode, bluetooth, 'do not disturb', wifi, music, etc in nice, easy-to-operate page which is accessible in one motion from any screen. The way they've changed the navigation bar is ok too - I did really like the other one but this one has much less clutter.
I don't like how blocky all the native icons are now either - it just looks really amateur and childish. I like the iPhone because it was sophisticated and business-like almost in its appearance. Now, though, that's all gone and there's just colours everywhere... Not even slightly muted colours either and it almost looks kind of trashy.
Maybe it'll grow on me. Maybe it's just where my head's at right now and it'll grow on me more as I become less of a cynic. Maybe I'll learn to enjoy trivial things and embracing the inner child. Or maybe pigs will fly.

Until then, I'm just going to make do with what I've got and organise things til I feel better.

After a long absence...

16/9/13

Or at least what feels to me like a long absence, I'm back!

August was, by and large, pretty nasty. I haven't quite decided how I'm going to run down everything that went on so here's a chronological list of most of what went on. 

1) My therapy sessions with my psychologist started up in earnest. 

2) I wasn't feeling too hot on the 30mg mirtazapine so my doctor put me up to 45mg. I then missed my second appointment with Marie, my psychologist. 

3) I went away to Bloodstock for five days - the first weekend of August. It was amazing and I met some really great people but it was also really tiring. 

4) My flatmate decided he was moving out, when I got home from work one evening, and I then found out that my other half had already found us a new flatmate without asking me. I must point out here that I didn't mind so much that I wasn't consulted - I really like the new guy and it wasn't like I had anyone to ask anyway. 

5) My gran (mam's mam) took ill due to ongoing heart problems. She's had a narrowing valve for a lot of years now but none of us were ever expecting anything to come of it. 

6) I went away to a family wedding in Gretna Green for a weekend. It was lovely, I had a great time even though I was largely on my own - Matt was supposed to have the time off but couldn't due to work commitments. 

7) Upon returning from the wedding, I had a really bad day exacerbated by an 'argument'. I turned to self-harm and contemplated taking my life. It got so bad that I had to go to A&E to keep myself safe/alive. I was then given two weeks off work and more diazepam to recover. 

8) My gran had valve replacement surgery and then proceeded to progress amazingly. She was allowed home less than a week after her surgery and has continued to improve steadily. 

9) My grandma (step dad's mam) was rushed into hospital with internal bleeding and organ failure. While in hospital she contracted peritonitis and pneumonia. She later died on the bank holiday Monday after being in South Shields General for seven days. I visited her only once before she died - I was the last grandchild to go. 

10) Matt got his interview for college. It was scheduled for the 28th, my birthday, and he passed well after a fortnight of really hard work.

11) I started therapy again. In the session Marie told me of a special group therapy course that they'll be running this winter. 10 2.5 hour sessions with approximately ten people all with moderate to severe long-standing depression. She think's that I suit the criteria and I thought that it sounded like a good opportunity.

12) I missed therapy again. I slept in - again - meaning I managed to sleep for a solid 14 hours. I rang in and rearranged but now I'm just waiting on my appointment letter arriving. 

13) I turned 21! I ended up having to celebrate the occasion 3 times - twice with family and once with friends (twice with friends if you count my actual birthday, on which Matt and I went out for pizza and did nothing else. 

14) All the while, I was trying to make it to the RVI three times a week for light treatment for my psoriasis. My skin condition is exacerbated by stress so you can imagine how well it was going... And I started working again. 

15) Oh and my pay was about £300 short after being on the sick. I should get it this month though.

THEN September started and, with that, the 3rd year of my FdA in Photography. Talk about stress! 

Today, when I got to the hospital, I asked how many sessions I had left. Just so I could tell work how long it'd be until I went back to my normal shifts - my Wednesday and Monday shifts had to be pushed back two hours so I could fit everything in. My psoriasis had largely cleared up a week or two ago but, knowing that I still had about a month left, I didn't point this out. Also no one asked me. However today, after the nurse said that I had two weeks left, she actually asked how it was clearing up. I told her that apart from a tiny scar on my shin and a tiny, slightly dry patch on my hip, everything treated by the light was gone. At which point she was like "Oh well you're done then!" 

I looked at her from my little light box, standing there in my smalls and a hospital gown, before she added: "Since you're here, have your treatment today and then we'll discharge you."

*I must also point out that, as I write this, there's a toddler sitting on the bus next to me screaming because his mother won't give him any sweets. It's very distracting. I'm also soaked because, before I went into the hospital, it was pretty sunny, once I got out like 10 minutes later, it was pissing down and I'm wearing cloth shoes.*

It's nice, finally being discharged. I don't have to slog it to the city centre three times a week only to come home half an hour after getting there - it seemed like such a dreadful waste of time. And I won't have to work until 10pm on Wednesdays.
Well that's it for today I think, more later - or tomorrow - but I have to go to work now...

A Reminder

Monday served as a grim reminder of just how unpredictable depression can be. Just how hard it can hit back after an easy - or at least relatively smooth - time.
It came out of no where, really. I'm well aware that a 'good' day for me usually involves a period of feeling down or restless or unsettled - I don't often get whole days of feeling good at all. I guess I do know how it happened. I like routine, although I use that phrase loosely. My routine consists of being at home, in Newcastle, and sleeping in my own bed - not travelling too much, going to work, sometimes meeting someone in town for coffee etc.

Both weekends of the last fortnight, I've spent in wildly different places. One was at Bloodstock - a festival in Derbyshire and the other was a family wedding in Gretna Green. Between the two I was only at work once. All the packing, unpacking, washing and repeating had me worn out by Sunday just gone - when I got home from the wedding. I had intended to go out with some friends - just meeting them at the pub like I almost always do on a Sunday night - but in the end I didn't feel up to it. I was low and tired and figured I'd be no fun to be around. Fortunately, I'd picked myself up a bit by the time my other half came home.
Monday, however, was something else entirely. I was distracted, withdrawn. I kept sitting down and losing myself in my train of thought. I didn't know where this had come from and I certainly didn't understand why it was happening. It wasn't until that evening that it occurred to me that I'd barely had a minute to myself in the last two weeks. I'd hardly had a chance to touch base. I hadn't seen or spoken to many people, the house was a mess because I hadn't been there to tidy it and I'd just been eating junk and snacking or having big starchy-carb meals.
I don't know how it happened. One minute I was fine - or thought I was, or thereabouts - the next I was crying uncontrollably. There was shouting. Lots of shouting. But mostly crying from me. I remember the door slamming. I remember screaming, near silently - unable to get the sound past my throat. Hoping that my flatmate wasn't in. Hoping my flatmate was in. I needed someone. To come and hold me, to comfort me, to shush me while I cried. I couldn't stop myself.
I had a hospital appointment that afternoon. I still hadn't stopped crying by the time I got there. One of the nurses rang the mental health crisis line for me because she was so concerned. Surprisingly they didn't actually do anything - I guess they didn't think I was much of a suicide risk because I'd managed to get myself to the hospital already. Despite the fact that I'd told them I intended to take my life and was concerned I would if left alone. Then again, maybe the sheer fact that I was lucid enough in that moment told them that I wouldn't do it. Or something.

I was in the hospital five and a half hours before I spoke to someone who really took the time to listen to me. Of course, by this time I'd calmed down a lot. I just didn't want to be there. I didn't want to go home either. I just wanted everything to stop. To hit pause. Throw my hands up and get off the ride. I'd had enough. More than enough.
Home wasn't better. The next day wasn't really better either. The doctor recommended a week off work with more time if needed. We fought again once I got home. I'd tried to talk. He still didn't want to have to deal with anything. I cried again. The only thing that was different is I didn't take it out on myself. Tuesday night was a little better though.
Wednesday was a little brighter. I met up with some of the girls I used to be in college with. I had tea with my parents and when I came home we weren't up long before we went to bed.

Today? Today's been better. I feel more secure in the knowledge that we're actually alright and it was just that everything was getting too intense. I've got an interview at Lush in a couple of hours and I'm bricking it. Well, I'm actually pretty excited - I'm just nervous too. I keep thinking that I know nothing about the brand or the products or anything like that but I know it's not really true. I'm looking forward to it.
It's just for a xmas temp job but hopefully I'll get kept on at the end and I'll be able to leave Sainsbury's in the new year.
That seems so far away right now but I know it'll come round in no time.

Pills and Dubstep

So I'm writing to you from Boots as I wait for my new prescription to process. My music's playing but my headphones are around my neck - no doubt to the delight of the other customers. Yes, today I am that girl. You know the one, with the scraped back hair, blasting electronica from headphones, looking a bit cheap and a bit common throughout the wait. 

I'd like to point out that that is very rarely me. I don't wear tracksuits and only occasionally wear jogging bottoms (I only own one pair and I got those from my pole-dancing school for when I don't want to cool down too much). I very rarely have my music loud enough for others to hear too - I like to think I'm considerate that way. 

Today is different I guess. I've just gotten out of the doctors. My mirtazapine's been increased to 45mg and I've got to reintroduce diazepam to keep a lid on my anxiety too. I get to review it all on Tuesday again. 

I think I'm just starting to lose hope a little. To lose sight of where I'm headed and what I'm aiming for. I'm starting to care less and less about everything: work, chores, my appearance - you name it. 

When I get home, I think I'll try and do something nice for myself. A long shower and a face mask maybe. I did get some new Lush things to try the other day. 

All in all, it's taken an hour and a half to get my stuff sorted, from leaving the house to go to the appointment to getting back. There was a bit of a hiccup with Bitch-Receptionist and whether or not my prescription was actually at Boots after I ordered it on Monday but it turned out that Mr New Pharmacist had just misplaced it. 

Bitch-Receptionist actually told me I must be taking too much propranolol. Clearly I don't know how to take my meds. It's only been a year after all... 

Maybe I could have been more polite but frankly it wouldn't have been the first time she'd buggered my script order to my detriment!

As Good As It Was...

Sincerest apologies for being pretty absent recently. I've had a lot on, sort of.
By that, I mean I've not actually had a lot going on but it's felt like a ridiculous amount of stuff due to my epic lack of mental oomph these days. Right this moment I'm actually getting hassle from the webzine I volunteer for. They're saying I didn't send them the right pictures even though I did - it's not my fault if where the venue allow me to stand has a shitty viewpoint... Plus, if they'd done their job right in the first place I'd have been able to do the entire job rather than just do damage control from that failure of a day...
Other than that, I've had a disciplinary hearing at work for being off so much and they really grilled me about every little detail. They didn't quite want to hear the gruesome bits so much though. And the note-taker managed to make me sound like a moron. Instead of actually writing what I said he paraphrased it resulting in me sounding incredibly simple. I've applied for a temp job at Lush in Eldon Square in town over the winter so hopefully I'll get that and they'll keep me on. That way I'll be able to get out of my current job for good. I don't even care if I have to work twice as much - it's something I really want to do and will doubtless have fun doing. I found out the other week that I'd been shortlisted for an interview so I'm pretty psyched about that!
My ability to do housework guttered out about the same time the will to anything that wasn't watching mindless American TV did. It took me a little while to notice - we'd ran out of forks and underwear before I actually did anything about it. Most of my free time has been spent getting really fucking blitzed.

The meds have plateaued again. I think all the stress has just shut down my serotonin and ramped up the cortisol and I'm really not doing very well. When I rang the doctors' yesterday to get an appointment, and a prescription, I was told there was no pre-bookable appointments available until some time in September. As a result, I'm just going to have to turn up one morning and hope for the best! They always have on-the-day appointments for emergencies. I guess I just wish that exceptions could be made. I suppose then everyone would want to be the exception though...
I want some time off work - I feel like I need to just pull back and regroup. Just to sort myself out before I jump back into work. I've got a new therapist now - she's a psychologist rather than a CBT therapist. She seems lovely. I just think that the whole therapy thing is going to get worse before it gets better and I'm honestly not sure if I can do work as well. I can barely talk to customers right now as it is! If it gets any worse I'm worried that I'll say something to someone that'll land me in so much shit that I'll just get fired.
I'm also scared to take time off because then I'll probably end up in another disciplinary hearing and, even though they're all related illnesses, I'm concerned that I'll be treated more severely since it'll be my fourth absence and my second time in a hearing.
Plus there's the whole holiday mix up from last weekend as well. I was convinced I was on holiday because it was my cousin's wedding. But apparently there's no evidence of me ever requesting that day off so, when I wasn't there, it went down as an unauthorised absence. Since I effectively didn't show up for my shift.
I'm feeling so hopeless right now that part of me just wishes they would fire my ass... I hate feeling like that - I worked damn hard for 14 months to get that job and I'm fucking good at it!

Because my willpower's taken a hit, so has the CBT exercises, pole-dancing, yoga and the diet. I think the diet was pretty doomed early on to be honest but, at the same time, I've still been eating really healthily since that's the only kind of food I've been buying. I rarely leave the house for anything other than work and the hospital. Even then I go grudgingly.
With the hospital I end up so drained that I can barely walk afterwards which, when coupled with the exhaustion I get from the Mirtazapine, is pretty dire. On my first light treatment session they burned me quite badly - no blisters or anything, just a nasty sunburn for a couple of days. The psoriasis is clearing up really nicely though so that's refreshing! I still have to use the Eumovate and the coal tar and salicylic acid coconut oil stuff every week. I don't actually use it (I know, I know) it's the whole willpower thing again. Frankly it's awful to use. It smells bad. It looks bad. It feels bad. But it's bloody good stuff...

I think this will do for now. I have more photos to edit and they're not going to darken themselves. Fortunately Matt has a friend coming round tonight so I'll have the evening to myself to do the editing - even though I promised I'd play Magic with them. Honestly, the editing shouldn't take long.


So I shall leave you with this, one of my current favourite songs: the beautiful and vibrant, Veela.

NEWSFLASH: I'm Feeling Happy For The First Time In A Long Time.

Like legit happy, not "I've had so many tablets today you could shoot me and I'd hug you" happy but actually happy. Like lighter and not held down by this giant depressive black cloud. Not on a tightrope above that abyss. Not so alone that all the people in the world couldn't make me feel wanted.

It's beautiful.
It's humbling.
I think most of all, it's terrifying, because it's come out of nowhere but there is no way in hell that I'm taking it for granted.

I think I know it's down to the Mirtazapine but I'm happy that I've finally found a medication that it making me better rather than not having an effect or making me worse. I like that it's pretty much almost stopped with the auditory hallucinations too - they were annoying although they weren't as bad as the mind-fuckery I've had with everything else!
My urge to eat everything has calmed down for the most part too which is really nice given that I was starting to get proper fat... I'm trying not to weigh myself these days so much because it's too much of a risk with my mood. If I lose weight, I either get super happy and determined to carry on or I get complacent and 'treat' myself. If I gain weight, I usually get super down because I've been trying really fucking hard or I get depressed because I tell myself I haven't been trying enough and that I'm worthless and so on and so forth... Very occasionally, if that little number on the display goes up I can go easy on myself, saying that maybe I haven't been as good as I could have been but not to worry or I can remember that sometimes weight just does that depending on so many different things like water retention, digestion, 'time of the month' blah, blah, blah. Usually it's the former though. It can get pretty brutal...

In diet related news, I've officially started the Whole30 plan for this month (as of July 2nd). I've had a couple of slip-ups (I know, I know, it's only been four days, how can I possibly have slipped up already) but that's okay. I've had one totally perfect day so far and as for the slip-ups: one, I didn't even realise what I was eating had sugar in it and two of them were 'special occasions' (a meal with a friend today and lunch delivered by my mam yesterday when I was having a rather turbulent day).
Another plus, in my book anyway, when I have slipped up, I haven't scrapped the rest of the day. I've stuck to the plan and I've eaten well. I know it doesn't make it better but damage control is better than no control in my opinion.
One of my favourite things right now, on the Whole30 program is Nakd bars. They're compliant with the paleo diet and the Whole30 program, they're really filling, super tasty and really handy on the go so I'm not tempted to go off the clean eating. On that note, I've just found this which is amazing and is going to save me unprecedented amounts of money in the future - Nakd bars are also really quite expensive... I'm going to go and make some cherry and ginger bars when I get in from work tomorrow.

Right now, I'm sitting listening to Taylor Swift - nothing specific really, just the four albums (I think) - with my hair full of Marilyn and my skin covered in Dream Cream (well okay, I've got Tacrolimus on my face - more on that in a moment) and it's pretty nice. Matt's away at a festival and, while yesterday was a little weird, I think I'm enjoying the time to myself. I tidied a bit yesterday and my mum came over - she cleaned my bathroom while she was here - and I've got almost all of the washing done. Now I can just relax I guess.
Yesterday was probably so strange because it's the first time I've been here without Matt - I kept expecting him to come in from work or something! He texted this morning saying they were heading down to the festival and that he'd talk to me later but I told him not to worry about it. I don't want him thinking he has to text me while he's away - I want him to go and enjoy himself and do whatever people do at open air jazz festivals. He's due back on either Monday or Tuesday since he doesn't have his return journey sorted yet (if that was me, I'd be going mad with worry thinking that I'd get stuck in London forever or something equally insane). I think my only complaint is that time seems to be going really, really slowly! I can't believe that he only left yesterday and that it's still Friday! I mean what the hell is up with that? I'm not sure where I'm going with this but since it's current events and I'm not catatonic in anyway and I'm coping very well, I thought it was worth a mention... (I did expect to be absolutely fine - I think Matt was just worried that I'd have worked myself up into such a state worry and panic and misery that I'd off myself or something... I'll have you know I cope fine on my own, it's adding other people to the equation that causes problems!)
As for Marilyn and Dream Cream - if you don't already know - they're Lush products. Dream Cream is my favourite moisturiser and Marilyn is a hair moisturiser and lightener filled with camomile and lemon juice that stops brassy tones building up. I've not used it before (bought it earlier today) and I'm looking forward to seeing how good it is! I was planning on having a Lush bath bomb bath once I finished this post but as it's already after 11pm I'm really not going to have time. I might have to leave this in over night... I've just noticed how gorgeous and lemony my hair smells! So nice! Here's hoping it's a little lighter too by the morning. I think I might put Superbalm on my scalp tonight, instead of the scalic acid/coal tar/coconut oil compound stuff that the hospital gave me. I know the hospital one works but it smells awful and doesn't half linger... I also think that the scalp psoriasis I had is mostly gone now (due to the hospital ointment). It worked really quickly and really well which was pretty incredible - it's never really happened like that before. The tacrolimus is shockingly good too. Cleared my face and ears in a matter of days. Burned to hell for the first week but it was a pretty amazing transformation! I've got to stop using it on Monday though because my light treatment starts soon and it makes my skin more sensitive to sunlight and thus more prone to burning horribly with the light treatment.
In all honesty, they're yet to NOT burn me at the hospital with the broadband UVB anyway! I'd rather not risk them doing it worse than the two previous occasions though - they were more than bad enough. The first time was 3rd degree burns down my upper arms and the second were the same degree but blistered across my nose and cheek bones. Both very painful and very icky to say the least.

I had my assessment with Newcastle Psychological Services on Monday just gone. It went pretty well but there's a three to four month waiting list unfortunately. I said that I wasn't fussy on which psychologist I saw, I just wanted to be seen sooner rather than later to get all of the nasty stuff over with.
By nasty stuff I just mean the whole part where it gets worse before it gets better. It's already been a year and I have come one hell of a long way since then. I still just want to be better now.
With the assessment, I was discharged from Newcastle Talking Therapies and, like last time, I am able to go back to the service any time I feel that I need to. Hopefully I won't need to but it's nice to always have the option for it if I need it rather than be totally on my own. The psychologist I saw recommended a few different things for me in the waiting time between now and getting my psychologist: reading material "A Mindful Way Through Depression" and group therapy with Tyneside Women's Health. I think I'm going to give the mindfulness thing a shot before the group therapy. I dunno why I'm so apprehensive about it. I guess I'm just scared of being judged or, worse, scared of being too judgmental of others. I terrible with stuff like that - especially when it's other women whom I don't know. If I know them first then I'm totally fine but if it's a stranger going on about their problem it's 50/50 whether my internal reaction will be sympathetic or whether it'll be bitter and malicious. It's horrible, I feel like I can't control it! The level of contempt I have for some other people really gets to me sometimes because I don't know why I have such strong feelings about them.
I guess, just like everything else, it's something I'm going to have to work through and unravel slowly...

Well, I'm getting pretty sleepy now so I'm going to wrap my hair up, take my meds and get myself to bed! Night folks, I hope this makes up for the lack of recent posting and I promise I'll post again over the weekend about Camp NaNoWriMo and applying to be an ML for Newcastle/Durham. Byee xoxo

A Turkish Night: the violence at Besiktas and how I ran for my life. | Greenpeace UK

A Turkish Night: the violence at Besiktas and how I ran for my life. | Greenpeace UK

Saw this on the Greenpeace site (obviously) and holy shit!
I feel so sheltered...

Anti-depressants: The Bane of the Fat Girl

Yeah, the worst really hadn't passed when I last posted. It's all been pretty grim. Instead of cutting I turned to scratching and picking and biting: the therapist's whole "draw where you'd cut" thing didn't work for very long at all - ten minutes tops. My CBT sessions have restarted to stop me flipping out too much before I go to NPS next month and, as of this morning, I'm not due back at the doctors until I feel like something's going wrong. 

It's a little bit scary to not have my next appointment mapped out - it's been so long! - it should be alright though. 

I'm a bit worried about going up to 30mg Mirtazapine too but, again, it should be alright. I'm still getting the anxiety episodes and the days of epic rage but they aren't as bad anymore really. As for my low mood and the like, well, it's pretty nasty - hence the upping of the dose. 

I think that my longest ongoing health issue, alongside the depression, is my complete inability to lose weight and stay at whatever lower weight for any period of time at all. I had, in fact, started losing weight a month or two ago through calorie controlling and exercise but then I started taking Mirtazapine which makes you eat like a mofo... I mentioned this to my doctor, having gained nearly six kilos in a month, and he just looked at me apologetically and said "Unfortunately there's nothing I can do. It's just a side-effect of most anti-depressants. It's just a matter of finding ways to combat the weight gain..."

So aside from being generally fat (also, all the women in my family are overweight which can only exacerbate things really >_<) the meds make me bloated and sluggish. When I do exercise it makes me happy for about ten minutes afterwards then I just feel shit again. Regardless of how long I exercise or how intensely I do it. My psoriasis is getting so bad my skin's swelling up and chafing like crazy. To combat that, I'm starting light treatment in the next week or so too so that's going to pull the psoriasis back but probably also give me sunburn and/or 3rd degree burn blisters on my face/arms/stomach - you name it... Another side-effect of the Mirtazapine that I'm experiencing is 'strange sensations in the skin' which basically means either pins and needles, numbness or itching in one or more parts of my body. Usually my face/mouth (weirdest thing ever) or legs/forearms. Nothing really helps that apart from willpower. 

I've had a couple of run ins with HR at work because of my uniform (I wear a knee-length black skirt that happens to not be made by their supplier). They then gave me a pair of trousers to wear. Four hours later my legs were so swollen and painful, I could barely walk. I haven't been able to go pole dancing because of the state of my thighs and, needless to say, I have gone back to wearing my skirt. If they'd ordered me one four month ago like I'd asked, we wouldn't be having this problem...

All in all, life hasn't really changed here. I'm still fat and depressed and living in a crappy, messy flat with my other half and our flatmate, who isn't really speaking to either of us for some reason. I have started doing yoga properly though, I'm trying to do at least 20 minutes 3 times a week. I managed 30 minutes after work the day before yesterday, hoping to do an hour today once I've finished this. I do feel like it's really helping, I'm a lot calmer than I was and feel pretty peaceful. I've only done like five sessions though so I'm thinking that I'm not yet reaping the full benefits. 

I'm going to make a pretty drastic diet change (again) come Monday - I'm going paleo-vegetarian for 30 days to cleanse and detox my body. I'm doing it via Whole9 and it's reported to help improve the condition of people suffering from various medical things such as depression, anxiety, psoriasis, arthritis, lupus, Crohn's etc. In my opinion, I can't really get much worse than I have been these last few years so I've got bugger all to lose! 

Coming up this week (I'm trying to plan my blogs more so I actually do them), we've got a closer look at how I'm going to go paleo, my bucket list and why some people shouldn't be allowed to breed! See you later!

*links to come*

I think the worst has passed...

After an appointment with the doctor this Tuesday past, we decided that I should stay on the Mirtazapine a while longer. He's now referring to my Day of Rage as a 'blip' and, in order to prevent future 'blips' I'm to stay on 15mg for another three weeks before we change the dose to a higher one.

I've had a few really bad days of suicidal feelings but I haven't actually acted on any. I may have taken more medication than advised once or twice but never actually enough to kill me. I've not self-harmed either which I'm quite proud of. A much as I've wanted to and as much as the compulsion's been there, I've not actually done it. I think taking up yoga has really helped. I'm not doing it everyday, even though I want to, but even three or four times a week is seeming to have a huge impact! 

Work can be really stressful sometimes - especially if I've had a stream of absolutely horrid customers... It just really gets me down and then I get caught in a downward spiral of self-loathing and panic and it can pretty much ruin my head. 

I've not been going out as much as I want to recently, I've mostly been too tired or I've slept in etc. They say that Mirtazapine is like the king of sleepyland because it sends people to sleep but now that I've been taking it a while I find that it makes me kind of tired for a couple of hours after taking it then I'm fine but once I've slept and my alarm goes off, I'm near impossible to wake. When I do wake up, I can fall asleep again but be convinced I'm awake! Cue missing lunch dates and whatnot...

I've got four medical appointments lined up over the next six weeks - three in June: with my old therapist, Sarah; with a consultant at dermatology outpatients' at the RVI to discuss light treatment and the last with my doctor to sort out my Mirtazapine dosage. The final one is in the first week of July and that's with my new therapist Judith - we had to rearrange because of the 

Mirtazapine sending me doolally...

On top of all of this, my mum went for a mammogram a week or two ago and they seem to have found something. She's going for further testing today. I'm not even going to lie - I'm pretty worried. Last month she was on really strong antibiotics for a nasty lymph node infection so that doesn't really seem to bode all that well...

She'll probably find out the results in a few days so I'll mention that when it happens. A for me, I'm going to go and get some breakfast before I go to work - three and a half hours. Most pointless shift ever...

Two weeks on.

I've lost count of how many times I've wanted to die in the last fortnight. Half the time I didn't actually want to kill myself, I just wanted to die. Whether it was to curl up and pass away or be hit by a bus or something, anything, as long as it ended my life. My self-preservation instinct is gone. I don't care about anything. I'm either numb, depressed or so filled with rage it's terrifying.

Sometimes I'm fine though, like now. Six hours ago I was a shaking sobbing wreck. I barely had the strength to grip a pen and I just wanted to die. I'd been feeling violent towards myself all day but by 8pm I just wanted to drop dead. Violently, peacefully, whatever as long as it involved me not living. 

Then everyone came home. That helped me through it and hearing about the misfortune of a friend of ours tapped my maternal side which pulled me round as I went to cheer him up a bit - utilising Lush bath bombs, Savannah Dry Cider and fancy teas from Whittard of Chelsea.

The only reason I haven't self-harmed again is because I've managed to guilt myself out of it each time since I promised I'd stop hurting myself. I have, on occasion taken more than the recommended dose of my tablets but not so many as to overdose. Just enough to take the edge of more than usual. Singularly, none of my tablets are normally fatal in overdoses but together I'm not so sure. I'm careful. And I only do it when I really need to - when I feel as though I'd do something worse to myself otherwise. 

Tomorrow I'm going to ask if there's anything they can do to dull the whole rage side-effect thing and if they can up my Mirtazapine dose. I'm not sure what my psychologist appointment is going to involve so I'll write about that tomorrow. I'm a little nervous about it but hopefully it'll help me out in the long run.

Day 1 of Mirtazapine...

I took my first Mirtazapine last night with my Propranolol and Diazepam. I felt fine and I fell asleep almost straight away. I was still exhausted when I woke up like nine hours later!

I was irritable and oversensitive when I got up and when my partner snapped at me because I was making too much rustling noise (my business cards came and I got a little excited about opening them immediately) I became scared and upset because I automatically assumed that he was really pissed off at me. 

Naturally, he wasn't and once I calmed down, I was able to get ready and leave for work. Upon getting there, I came over feeling light-headed and weak. I was nauseous and so tired I could barely stand! Walking was a chore, I was disorientated and confused. I couldn't talk without really concentrating and even when I was sitting down I was clumsy and tired. I kept dropping things and pressing the wrong buttons. An hour and a half in I was feeling worse than ever so I called over one of my supervisors and they arranged for me to go home. I was supposed to go to the hospital on account of how ill I was feeling (light-headed, lethargic, tight chest, short of breath etc) so I called my step-dad, after calling Matt and my mam, to take me there. We got halfway through the one-way maze that is Newcastle's roads before he got so frustrated that he started ranting about how the situation was 'a fucking nightmare'. I was getting really nervous and feeling worse than ever (since it was a fairly hot day and he had the heat blasting 'to cool the engine down') so I offered to just get out and make my own way there. He agreed that would be best and I left. I decided then to screw the hospital and just come home.

I've been home a few hours now and I feel a bit better. I've managed to have lunch and then had a cheese sandwich a few hours ago and I'm trying to keep hydrated but all in all I'm still feeling pretty naff...

I'm just making a watermark for my images at the moment while watching Archer. I'm about to upload a bunch more photography to my photoblog to keep it up to date. Adding the watermark will hopefully stop any theft from happening instantly...

Yesterday I actually managed to do a backwards roll out of an aerial yoga hammock - I was incredibly proud of myself. The session itself was pretty hard, really relaxing though. I spent the two hours prior to that in rent-a-pole/flex spinning and stretching and flipping myself into flexy oblivion. I managed to get into a 'crab' position from my knees but unfortunately not from my feet - give me time and I'll do it though. I'm aching like hell now though. Can't wait until Monday for my next pole class! If I'm up to it by then that is...