Lifestyle - A New Beginning

I have an announcement!

*clears throat*

I HAVE A JOB!!!!!!!

My volunteering has paid off and I finally managed a right place/right time ultimate combo. The main selling point? My degree. Yup, the one I have always been slightly unhappy about. 

Don't get me wrong, I loved doing it and I wouldn't swap those experiences for anything. But I have never used it. I was all for going into Heritage Management after qualifying but then realised the route into the industry is fraught with broken dreams and living like a pauper for more years than I was willing to. 

So I did what most people do in that situation. Put my dreams on hold until there was a "right time" and got a proper job. I then spent numerous years working in a restaurant and dreaming of escape. I focused on education as I'd always thought I might like to teach. I applied for a couple of graduate schemes to become a French teacher but always fell down at the final hurdle. 

I retrained (whilst still working at the restaurant) and got myself a CELTA. Which is a foundation level qualification and the basic minimum for a job teaching English as a foreign language. 

I lived in Greece for a bit, came home, got married, ended up back at the restaurant again because I needed a job. Escape was so hard when there were bills to be paid. I dreamed some more, but just couldn't wiggle free. I spent a summer teaching English in the week and full-time in the restaurant at weekends (clocking up 70hr weeks in the process). 

I got pregnant and it was then I saw my chance. I *couldn't* go back to the restaurant. It just didn't fit around my childcare needs. But then they closed my restaurant whilst I was on maternity leave and I managed to get a payout for leaving a job I'd had no intention of returning to. Bonus. 

And then, to quote a well known TV theme tune 'my life got flipped, turned upside down'. I ended up a single parent and have battled with my own mental health for a few years. Last October my daughter turned five and the government insisted I look for a job. Now, I had been planning for this moment for a while and had tried to make myself more employable.

I started this blog because I was doing a counselling skills course and realised how depressed I was and how much I needed an outlet. That course was supposed to lead me to a job last summer, before the Jobcentre would ever need to be involved, but sadly it didn't. All the jobs I'd seen the year before that needed that qualification were not advertised. Bugger. 

I, therefore, dutifully signed on in the October to get my Jobseekers Allowance (JSA) and started the long, slow process of regaining employment.

I discovered the amount of skills I have puts a lot of employers off. And the government's insistence on focussing on the young unemployed by creating endless schemes to help them into jobs (which is great if you're 16-24) means employers have created millions of apprenticeships where there used to be entry level positions. 

Not so great if you're 36 and looking for a job. Any job, but don't have industry specific skills. I was a manager in a restaurant I can do admin. Possibly with my eyes closed. Have I had one single response to any of those applications? Nope. 

And then a teeny, tiny light in the dark. I found a secondary school (my preferred age range) that wanted volunteer Teaching Assistants. Perfect! I emailed over my application and a mere half an hour later they rang to offer me an interview! 

I finally started at the beginning of the summer term doing Wednesdays and Thursdays with the year 7 nurture group. I have genuinely enjoyed all of it. Even those days where I've (briefly) wished I was allowed to throttle them. And then at the end of June an advert appeared on their website. 

I, obviously, jumped at the chance. Made sure it was the best application I could do. Handed it in. Waited.

Is there anything worse than waiting?

I got so nervous one of the other TAs marched me up to the HR office so I could ask if the shortlist was ready. It was. And I was on it. Twice! 

Unbeknownst to me there were jobs going in three different areas. The Academy itself, the Intervention team (this has nothing to do with sitting your friend down and telling them you're concerned with their drug/alcohol use) and finally the Aspire project. 

Aspire is a free school that is opening in Hull in September. It is based around the Academy's Christian ethos that all students deserve to be taught. Even the ones who have been excluded from their own schools. It is taking pupils from all over the city with behavioural issues that have seen them excluded or at risk of exclusion from year 6 and up (that's 10/11yr olds up to 18yr olds.) 

And, here's the important bit, they will *all* be studying Leisure and Tourism. My degree subject! After so long with *no-one* caring about my degree having an interview panel (a member of each of those 3 different areas) all be excited by my degree. And that I carried my French up to my second degree year. And that I have counselling skills was a little pleasing, it has to be said. 

And then yesterday I got the phone call I had been praying for. I've been taken on to work at Aspire. I can't tell you just how exciting this is for me. I'm so proud of myself for not letting my anxieties stop me from pursuing something I *knew* I could be good at. And because I'll be at Aspire the chances of career progression are slightly higher. 

Moving in to teaching L&T could be a real prospect. And I'm not even scared by the idea any more. Plus, if I can make it through at least 2 years at Aspire, I think I could probably work anywhere! 

I have spent the last two weeks saying "if I get this job..." and planning so many nice things. First up, a holiday for madam and I. Not until next summer. But an actual holiday! My mum and dad have promised to finance a car for me. And I have been browsing dinky, just for madam and I, cars on auto trader. 

And finally, I've been work wear planning :) I have created a Pinterest board which you can have a look at if you fancy... 

I am crazy happy at the moment and just want to thank everyone for being so supportive (and enthusive) whilst I've been going through this process. 

As an aside, it is almost exactly six years since I went on maternity leave. I would never have imagined everything that has happened since then. But I am so ready for a change! 

Love, Pearl.

Parenting - Fear is Anger

Having told you how much I've been struggling with madam's temper recently I decided I could do with being more proactive about getting to the root of the problem. Remembering that the last time she was this volatile was also connected to her fears it seemed a good place to start.

When himself punched me it left a permanent impression on madam (despite having been only 3 she still mentions it regularly). It also left her with a lot of mixed feelings to deal with which to some extent I had to ride out due to her inability to properly verbalise her feelings. 

New clothes make any girl smile :)

Some of it was outright anger and she punched everyone and everything for a while. I had to go into her nursery on the first day and explain what might happen. I then had to go through a whole child protection thing with them to ensure himself couldn't go anywhere near her without me also being there. 

Also, she became incredibly clingy, which, if you know madam, you will know is very out of character. This is the bit I decided to try and focus on with her this weekend. Her clinginess was a manifestation of separation anxiety. So is her current vile behaviour somehow all mixed up with that?

I took her to the cinema on Saturday morning so that we could have some alone time together doing something fun. I let her watch the film and choose where we were having lunch before talking to her about it so that I knew she was pretty chilled out.

Knowing that my going to work is something that is new to her I decided to use that as a jumping off point. And I pretty much hit the jackpot. She admitted to being worried that I would go to work and forget about her and not come back. This is another leftover from her dad as he left us to go and work in London and has not lived with us since.

Can you look menacing whilst wearing Lycra? 

Her little brain does parent working = abandonment. I have spent the whole of the weekend trying to reassure that even though, yes, we dont get as much time together, I will not leave her. I have used all the examples I can think of from times we've been apart and I have come back again.

The thing that made me sad was that she can remember every single night we've spent apart! She really doesn't like it. And I had to try not to dismiss her fears as silly. They are very real to her. Daddy left her. She can't see why mummy never would, even if I have always come back before there might be a time when I don't.

She did at one point ask if she could live with nanna as she's retired and therefore won't go to work and leave her :'( Poor little thing. I have tried to make her understand that even if she is angry and worried this is not a reason to throw things at people and she has been better over the weekend. We'll see how it goes on.

Does anyone have any other ideas of ways I might be able to reassure her?

Love, Pearl.

Lifestyle - Gardening, Ballet and a Crumble

I re-read the very first post I wrote the other day as I was talking about it for something. And I was quite shocked by the way it made me feel and what a horrible memory I have of that point in time. It may have only been just over a year ago, but so much seems to have happened since then.

Then, last night, as I hadn't posted anything yesterday I decided to see if there was a post from last year and, lo and behold, there was one for 15th March 2013 so I shared that instead. And of course, I read that back as well. 

Both the posts mentioned my imminent eviction problems and how stressed I was about it all. This got me talking with my friend M about where the the whole eviction thing stood now. And the answer is - I don't know. I've not been evicted as yet, however I've never been told I can stay either.

They still come round on a regular basis and inspect my property, which I can completely understand (it was awful), but does stress me out still. I hate knowing someone else is in my house and looking at my things. I can't be there whilst they do it, it freaks me out too much. To that end, I have spent the afternoon sorting out my house (again) as the agency is coming tomorrow (Monday).

I know that it's tidy and acceptable and having completely re-done the garden the other week I feel like I deserve a medal! But I'm still freaking out about it! Is it just me being unreasonable? 

A Garden Triptych

Moving on to nicer topics, madam and I went to the ballet yesterday. We went to see the Three Little Pigs which was a special children's ballet by the Northern Ballet company. Their Ugly Duckling ballet was on CBeebies last year and madam had absolutely loved it.

I spent a morning trying to calm my very excited child down and not particularly succeeding, but then it was finally time to set off to the romantic location of Goole to watch the performance. We couldn't get to the Hull one as it was on mid-week and during school hours (stupidly). We had to set off before lunch which meant I took her to McDonald's on the way. This is her idea of the best meal ever. Not particularly flattering to my cooking...

So we parked up in Goole and found the venue. Madam was desperate to sit on the balcony and was thrilled when we were told that our seats were up there. We settled down and waited for the show. The venue is tiny, so even being on the balcony we were almost able to reach out and touch the dancers! However, there were a group of people who arrived who *also* had the same seat numbers as us. 

Madam in her outfit, our first view, our eventual view, madam with the band

There followed a slightly hurried re-arrangement in seating and we ended up on the very front row! We were right next to the band and so close to the stage the Big Bad Wolf nearly sat on my knee at one point! It was all over far too quickly and madam is now counting down until the next time she'll be able to go. As the tickets were only a fiver each, hopefully it won't be too long!

When we got home I made us some roast pork and then one of my crumbles using up the leftover stewed fruit from the other night. It was lovely! I do love a nice crumble :)

Apple, Rhubarb and Blueberry Crumble. Yum!

So, what have you been up to this weekend?

Love, Pearl. 

the benefits of jobseeking

Perhaps I need to start widening my job-hunting criteria!

There has been much stress in my life over the last couple of weeks whilst I sorted out going from Income Support to Job Seekers Allowance (JSA). I was told all the steps I needed to take and *exactly* when to take them.

I did ask them whether I could apply for JSA early as a payment gap would be a big issue for madam and I. They assured me that if I applied when I was told to that there would be no issues. This was obviously one massive lie.

I have spent the last couple of weeks in a weird kind of limbo wherein I am being paid money, but not the quantity I was anticipating and at different times than I was planning on. I have at least been paid enough that I covered my rent payments, but it left me with nothing else. Almost literally.

My mum and dad lent me some cash just to tide me over and I thought it would be resolved on Tuesday this week when my next payment was due in. Again, I was wrong. The payment wasn’t there at which point I had a major freak out and considered making a formal complaint to the DWP.

I found the site to make complaints and it said I should check with my branch to see if they could help before instigated complaint procedures and I figured, as I was going to sign on, I would ask them in person. Having got to sit with my advisor and he ticked me off I then asked about my money.

The chap looked at me as if I was a bit of a wally and explained for JSA the signing on acts as a signal to release my money and then it would be paid a couple of working days after that. Why no-one could have told me that at any point before I got to meltdown level, I don’t know. The upside is that I am expecting a full payment on Friday and can then pay off all sorts of other things that have been on pause whilst I’ve been transitioning.

One of the things I am waiting to do is change my name by deed poll. This has been more of an issue than I thought it would. It’s my name after all and I *should* be able to call myself whatever I fancy. My dad has proved less keen than I was expecting. I have said for ages I would go back to my maiden name but then, I thought, why should I? I have spent years frustrated at people’s inability to pronounce or spell my name; I should go for something easier.

My mum’s maiden name is really nice and easy and my uncle didn’t have any kids so will die out with him. Well, their branch of it will at any rate, so why not change it to that then. One word: Dad. He was not keen on the idea at all and when my cousin jokingly said I should use it as a first name with my maiden name as a surname he got even more upset! I think it might have been in part as I agreed with said cousin and said it was cool. At no point would I ever have *actually* done that though. I do not wish to spend the rest of my life explaining why I am named after a woodland creature!

So then today I came up with a name that combined the two and I actually quite liked (I still am unlikely to actually use it) and this did at least raise a bit of a smile with my dad. But I think I will just go back to re-joining my lovely Scottish roots. I have always been proud of that part of myself; it’s always made me a little unique amongst my friends. And my middle name, which I loathed for years? Nope, gonna keep that too. Unique is good sometimes. I am nothing if not full of contradictions.

So, having spent a couple of weeks dithering and deciding I think I will just revert to maiden name as I had always planned to. But now I have made the decision I want to be able to do it instantly, the waiting for the official paperwork may be all just too much for me! I then just need to filter it out to everyone who knows me by my married name. Bank first, methinks…

Oh, and then I have to deal with my poor madam being upset she can't change her name too... I have been told the school might do it for her within that setting, but obviously not on anything official.

She had the day off school yesterday as she's having another viral wheeze episode with the rotten cold she has at the moment. We mainly sat about in our 'jamas and played around in the morning and then we went to my parents to annoy them for a bit! Madam introduced them to the Lorax which they both giggled at and I went to the jobcentre again for a meeting with a training advisor. The result of which is me being booked on a course to update my IT skills... 

jobs are back in fashion

mere hours old, and after a 4-day induction, I am never going to forget when she was born!

 

 

I have had The Letter. The DWP have written to tell me that my child will be 5 soon (gee, thanks, without you telling me I might have forgotten!) and that I will be taken off income support at that point and will have to apply for JSA. Great. I am so looking forward to that. Not.

 

And why do I have to apply again? Surely I should just be moved onto it... Although, they have also stated in the letter that I may not be entitled to it, so that's probably why. As far as I know I am, but it's enough to make you nervous... And I really don't want to be on JSA, they make you feel so shit about being unemployed. Like it's some sort of choice you've made.

 

I would love not to have lost my job (that I hated and didn't *actually* plan on going back to) but I did. And then because I happened to lose my job/have a baby at almost the exact same moment as the recession hit in 2008, finding another one was suddenly impossible.

 

My plan had been to have madam and at the end of my maternity leave go back to a part-time job. Now, that would have been impossible where I did work as I couldn't have had hours that would have fitted in with childcare hence why I was always going to leave. But this was different. There were no jobs in the town where I lived. And I don't mean that as some sweeping generalisation. There were none. ALL the biggest employers had either closed or laid off everyone except the bare minimum.

 

There was no seasonal work as no-one was going anywhere as no-one had any money. Scarborough died in 2008. It was awful. Anyone with a job held onto it with both hands, no matter what it was. Not even K could get work. And he'd worked everywhere in that town. He ended up doing the odd night on a door in Driffield, but that was it.

 

So we moved back to Beverley. And I still miss Scarborough all the time. I sometimes wonder about moving madam and I back there, one (well, actually both) of her godmother's live there. I have friends with small kids, it's small enough for me to not feel intimidated like I do in cities, but bigger than here. The reason I don't is the exact reason we left.

 

There is nowhere else locally. Nowhere bigger anyway. The nearest cities are Hull and York, both about an hour away. So living back in my home town where Hull is just a 20min bus ride away is much better for me, jobwise. And Scarborough is still a seasonal town. Jobs are mostly service based and if you're one of the unlucky ones there will be no work in the off-season. Zero hours contracts are the absolute norm.

 

I can't live like that, certainly not now I have madam and that we're on our own. Actually, financially the being on our own bit makes little difference as K quite happily left me to pay the majority of everything even when we were together. He used to give me £75 a week, which he cut down to £40 without any thought of how little money that would leave me with.

 

This is another form of domestic abuse that I *actually* didn't really understand about until after we broke up. That control he had over money was another way of making me the weaker partner. Most of my debt issues started from there. I couldn't keep up with all our bills etc, and after I lost my job it just went into freefall.

 

Sorry, should have put a trigger warning on that last statement. For me if for no-one else. I have had to take a short break to calm myself down. So angry that he controlled me in so many ways and that I didn't even recognise it.

 

Domestic abuse makes you feel stupid.

 

*breathes*

 

Sorry, back to me getting a job... I am staying put in Bev as I am better placed to get a job as there is a big city and several biggish villages/smallish towns around and about for me to plum(b?) for jobs... But I do keep seeing photos of the seaside and wishing I was there...

 

But now I have to get serious about my job searching and start treating it as a job rather than a past-time. I would still prefer to only work part-time so that I could do the school run, but am aware that that is unlikely to happen. I am incredibly glad that mum and dad are local and I can rely on them to do that bit for me if I can't! But I don't want them to have to do it every day. And I'd like not to work weekends if at all possible, which would be something of a novelty as every job I've ever had has involved weekend working.

 

This is why I want to work in schools. I am considering applying for everything from dinner lady (person) up. I would love to not be reliant on the government for all the money I have. I would like for K to bother giving me some child support *laughs so hard there are tears in my eyes*. He won't. But he should. I don't get how any man (or woman) can just walk away from their child without it seeming to bother them in the slightest. How do you not care where they're getting food, warmth, shelter and clothing from?

 

I apparently, am a fool for caring about my offspring. 

 

But I am terrified with how I'm going to get on with all the form filling I'm about to start having to do. Let alone my lack of interview skills. I am so bad at interviews... I hate selling myself. Perhaps I should include a link to my blog in my applications! No, then they might realise I'm crazy...

 

I have managed to get myself a few smart clothes that would be suitable to wear to an interview and I know if I do get a chance to work in a school I have some experience with the age range. I just feel like I'm floating around grabbing at something to anchor me. I am so afraid of returning to that environment, even though it's what I need. 

 

Days are long now that madam is at school properly. Time to colour in the hours we're apart so that we can show each other our days over tea :)  

 

 

a rather different weekend than planned

I am exhausted! I have had possibly the most worrying weekend of my entire life and we're still coping with the fall out now.

 

It started off so well. I went to Guides as normal on Friday evening and came back really positive about what we're doing over the next half term. Madam had been coming down with a cold most of the week. Same as ever when we start a new term! I have it as well, she's so good about sharing!

 

Anyway, I came back on Friday evening to find her fast asleep on my mum and the news that she'd thrown up all over my dad. Oh dear. She was prodded and made to wake up so that we could go back to our house. But she made a massive fuss and we decided that if she went straight to sleep we would stay the night. And she did, though we noticed she seemed quite chesty and a bit wheezy when we put her down.

 

At 5 in the morning my mum prodded me awake and told me that an ambulance was coming as madam was having difficulty breathing. I got up and went into my parents room where she was propped up in bed and was obviously struggling for every breath. Not good at all. Mum said she'd got into bed with them and was puffing and panting so much they'd phoned 111 to get some advice. The lady had asked to listen to her and decided to send out the ambulance.

 

And we got two! The first one arrived shortly and explained that a warning light had just come on and that another bus was coming to *actually* take us to the hospital. They checked madam over and put her on a nebuliser and asked her to recite a nursery rhyme to check how she was doing. She sang Humpty Dumpty but could barely get to the end of the sentence without gasping for breath.

 

We got taken into the ambulance (the new one) and blue-lighted to the Hull Royal Infirmary. Madam was a little upset she didn't get the sirens, but we explained they only use those when the traffic is busy. Which it is not at half past 5 in the morning.

 

We got to the hospital for about 6 and were admitted to A&E. We waited there until 9 and then got moved to the children's A&E as that was now opened. From there things moved much faster (the main A&E was stacked to the rafters, bless them, they were so good with her).

 

The children's A&E gave her 10 puffs on a Salbutamol inhaler at 9.15am and sent her up to PASSU (Paediatric Assessment Unit). They assessed her again at about 11.30am and despite the fact madam was leaping about and destroying the triage room the Doctor said she was still really working for every breath and she was given another 10 puffs. We were told that until she could go 4 hours between treatments she wouldn't be going home.

 

So they found us a bed and madam some lunch and we settled down to wait. Well, I did. Madam doesn't understand the concept of resting so went off to cause chaos with anything possible. At 2pm they came back again and decided she needed another 10 puffs. She also got a dose of steroids which apparently, tasted vile (Mummy smirking may have happened).

 

They wanted to leave her 4 hours and said they would come back at 6 to reassess and then we might be able to go home. Due to a bit of a mix up in communication she was given another 6 puffs at about 4.30. We then had to wait until about 8 for the Doctor to come around to her. He said he was thinking that she might need to stay but that with another dose she might be able to go.

 

However, she fell asleep (passed out from exhaustion, you choose) before they could give her it. She was given her 10 puffs whilst she slept and put on a pulse ox monitor. It showed she was still struggling and they decided, to be on the safe side, we should go up to the children's ward and spend the night.

 

As it turned out it was a good job she stayed. They had her on a monitor and I could only watch as her oxygen saturation kept dipping down. They put her on the lowest rate of oxygen. It helped, for a while. And then she needed a bit more help. And then more. They put her back on nebulisers instead of the inhalers and she levelled out when they started her on 35% oxygen. Now, that much oxygen sounds very scary, and fortunately I didn't realise she was on that much at the time. I crept into the bed next to her and fell asleep because I was so tired.

 

Sunday morning

 

 

We were woken at 6am when she had another nebuliser and then... She was awake. And spent the rest of the day causing chaos and getting under the poor nurses feet. We finally managed to get her to 4 hours between inhalers though. They had said that if madam had a nap and they could monitor her breathing then we might be able to go home. But madam refused to settle until after tea. She dropped off for about an hour or so and so did I. Sadly it was too late and we were in for the night. Again. I have to say we both slept quite well. Tiredness overtook us both and we slept pretty much through until morning.

 

So, Monday morning when we woke up she had her inhaler and we were told that we would be going home as she'd had such a good night. Just had to wait for the Doctor to do his rounds and discharge us. We saw him about 10.30am and then had to wait for our discharge letter. But we left about 2pm. We went downstairs to the pharmacy as madam had another inhaler (the Salbutamol one still) to collect.

 

Then we just had to wait for my dad to pick us up. We sat in the foyer for a while and madam ended up wearing my coat and curled up under my chair fast asleep! No idea how she managed that. It was very noisy in the foyer, and I don't imagine the floor was very comfortable!. My dad had to pick her off the floor and carry her to the car. A nurse happened to walk past at that point and I think we slightly concerned her with what must have looked like a collapsed person on the floor. We reassured her she was just asleep and we finally left the hospital.

 

I was so glad to get her home and took the decision to keep her off school again today as she is still supposed to be resting and I don't think school is really the place to do that! She will go back tomorrow though as she has had another good night (and I expect her to again tonight). Her school are happy to give her her inhaler when she needs her dose and I think it'll do her good to try and get back to her routine.

 

I'm not sure I appreciate madam's propensity for being admitted to hospital, lets hope we'll not be back again for quite some time to come!  

in which madam gets surgery!

 

 

*warning: this post has some gruesome pictures in it*

 

Well, the last couple of days have been a lot more hectic than anyone could have anticipated. I went off to guides on Friday night with my shiny new leadership pack and a whole load of shoe boxes (you know, for the guides who don't like crafts).

 

The guides had more fun than anticipated sticking bits of tissue paper onto boxes and decorating them with various stickers and things. But they don't like crafts. In fact they got so involved we were over-running given we had 3 promise ceremonies to get through.

 

Now madam was with me as I can't leave her on her own and she was sticking things on her own box and generally joining in really well, but promise ceremonies are boring if you're 4 and you don't get to be in them. She did start off trying to help me give out the new neckers, but it didn't go too well...

 

So she went out of the hall to play in the foyer whilst we finished off and packed up. She found the tombola that the school had been using for their summer fair earlier in the afternoon and was happily spinning it and being out the way and quiet.

 

And then suddenly she wasn't.

 

She came racing back into the hall saying she'd hurt her finger and I could see it was bleeding and she was obviously in pain. I took her into the toilets to rinse it under the tap and wrap it up a bit. I brought her back in the hall and had a look at what she'd done and had that instant realisation that we would need to take her to A&E because if nothing else it looked like she'd need stitches.

 

The caretaker went to get her some ice to try and numb it a bit for her and then we had to get a lift from my guide leader because I'm still car-less at the moment. This is complicated by the fact that she is in a wheelchair so she has all her stuff on the back seat so she can get the chair in and out the boot easily. So after some re-jigging of stuff we set off for the local MIU/Out-of-Hours service.

 

Sadly, the Doctor who was there said there was nothing he could really do and it would definitely need an x-ray and as there wouldn't be x-ray services there until Monday we'd have to take her through to Hull Royal. On a Friday night. This did not fill us with warm fuzzies, I can tell you. However, I was wrong. We got there to find that we were in the new improved children's A&E section. There were toys everywhere, Shrek 2 on the TV and it was open and bright and completely non-scary.

 

And after a good long wait we were called through and the Doctor sent us for an x-ray. Now this bit, for some reason, was really frightening madam and she was not keen. But she was brilliant, sat really still and did exactly what the Radiographer asked her to (why, why does she not behave like that for me!) and got a sticker at the end of it. They asked us to wait outside for her pictures to come through and then came and gave me the reference form we needed to take back to the Doctor. At which point madam demanded to be allowed to see her special pictures! The Radiographer decided that as it was really late and she'd been so good that that would be ok! So we got a sneak peek and madam was thoroughly fascinated to see inside her hand...

 

The Doctor said that he didn't see a break but that the plastic surgery consultant wanted to have a quick look and would schedule us an appointment. Now I, foolishly, presumed this appointment would be on Monday. I was wrong, she had a look and then asked us to come back tomorrow morning at 9am and could we just wait here to be bandaged and thank you very much. I'm afraid I had a bit of an ungrateful reaction at this news.

 

I have no car at the moment! You want me to come back first thing tomorrow, we're not even from Hull... Consultant said it didn't have to be exactly 9 and did I really have another choice. Obviously, I hadn't meant that we wouldn't come, it was more that it was already gone midnight and I was going to have to spend a fortune getting a taxi home, then pay out for the bus in the morning, and I didn't even know if there would be one to get us there on time.

 

I kind of said no, of course we would be there and that as long as no-one expected us bang on time, we'd be there. We then had another half an hours wait before someone had time to do bandaging and we got a lovely student Nurse who chatted away with madam about nursery and guessed which big school she was going to.

 

This was good as madam was suddenly very afraid that being bandaged would hurt her poor, mangled, bruised finger. But it obviously was ok as she didn't even flinch. And then it was finally home time. Managed to get some cash out and rang a taxi, got home at just after 1am and put madam and myself to bed. She fell asleep straight away but I was wide awake. Until at least 2.30, and then the alarm went off. Ugh.

 

I hit snooze until we absolutely had to get up or miss the bus that I'd managed to look up for us. So we got dressed and came straight out. Having no breakfast as I thought we'd be quite quick and then get something (McDonalds is what I'd promised). I was very glad of that when the Plastic Surgeon said she'd need an op and when did she last eat or drink. The fact we hadn't had anything since the night before meant they would schedule us for as soon as possible that day.

 

a close up of the poor, poorly finger

 

a smiley face to show the surgeon which finger!

 

 

They found her a bed, got her changed into a gown and then we just had to wait. And wait. And then wait a bit more. The hardest thing was how often madam asked for a drink. It felt so mean not letting her have one, but I didn't need us to be rescheduled if I could help it! At about 2 o'clock it was finally time and she went downstairs for her op. They took her into the theatre and I helped to distract her whilst they inserted what they called her butterfly.

 

As soon as she saw it in the back of her hand, she freaked. She was really afraid of what was about to happen and this thing in her hand was just too much. I have to say the Nurses and the Anaesthetician were, again, incredibly good with her and did manage to distract her enough to get her to start breathing the gas whilst they put things in her "butterfly". They made her try and blow up the balloon and obviously that meant she took some good deep breaths and went under in no time. All I could do was give her a kiss on the cheek and leave her in the very capable hands of the Surgeon and his team.

 

I teared up as the Nurse led me to the waiting area because although I knew she'd be fine, it's awful to be so out of control of what's happening to her. I'm actually tearing up again just thinking about how it felt. She was so distressed and suddenly so, so small and I had to leave her. Ugh, horrible. Heartbreaking. I am so glad that it was only a finger and nothing too serious.

 

I sat waiting for about an hour. I really wish I could have sat somewhere completely on my own as having to listen to other people chatting away without a care in the world, including the woman who was discussing her night out in an almost blow-by-blow account even though she didn't want to be indiscreet, was really annoying me. Too many emotions going on to be having to listen to other people...

 

And at about 3 they called me back to come and see her in recovery. She was not a happy bunny and was wailing and asking to go home. But obviously, that wasn't going to happen immediately. She also kept asking to have the "butterfly" taken away.

 

I was a bit surprised at the size of the bandage she was now sporting. She had damaged the tip of her right index finger, I was thinking possibly that they'd strap the middle finger up as well, but her whole hand was swathed in bandages and strapping, except for her thumb.

 

enormous bandage, picture was taken after we'd got home as my phone died whilst we were at the hospital!

 

 

So after returning to the ward and finally getting something to drink and eat, she perked up a bit. And then she perked up enough to start running around like a lunatic again. But she still wanted her "butterfly" out. They took it out just before they brought her some tea. At which point I started to worry that we would be here overnight, but the Nurse assured me that they were arranging her discharge. Then madam decided she didn't want to go home! So, having dragged her over to her bed and forced her to put her proper clothes back on we finally got to leave at 6pm.

 

But I had promised McDonalds after the hospital, and she was desperate for the toy from the happy meal. So we went into town and I got something to eat at last (I'd had nothing all day!). But madam was disappointed as they didn't give her the current toy, it was an old one. They told her to bring it back unopened to get the proper toy. But we hardly ever go to McDonalds as you need a car to get there...

 

Madam also decided to just play with her toy anyway...

 

Kids are so much easier to please than adults sometimes. We have to go back to the hospital on Friday to get the bandages off, but my parents are back tomorrow, so that won't be a problem.

 

I've really missed them this weekend. I've had loads of great support from all my friends and family, but having my mum and dad around for back-up and support would have been lovely. But that's life, and you just have to deal with what's in front of you. Whether you feel like you're heart is breaking or not.  

 

 

 

Superman and tropical fish

I got myself a treat today :) I found the boxset of Superman films in Morrison's for a tenner... So that's £2 a film, genius... The main reason I got these, other than my childhood crush on Christopher Reeve, is because of a twitter discussion about them.

 

 

 

I remember loving the films as a kid, I remember that we always watched them when they were on TV. But I don't remember all of them. And I haven't seen the reboot they did a few years ago at all.

 

I'm excited to have a movie marathon with them and also know that madam will be able to watch it to. I think I might have to just watch them by myself first though. Bit like with Harry Potter when I watched all of those last week. I knew madam was ok with the first two but on re-watching them I know that she still would be afraid of all of the others...

 

I started writing this post much earlier today and then, whilst typing I happened to look up and noticed that the fish in my dad's tropical tank were acting strangely. They were all at the top of the tank and looked to be struggling to breathe.

 

Also the water looked sort of green-ish. Panic set in. I have spent most of the time that I've been looking after these fish I've been panicking about the marine tank. Which is fine. But the tropical suddenly drastically not so.

 

I took to twitter in the vain hope there would be someone there that might help. And I was in luck. Lovely friend talked me down and gave me tips as to what I could do. I also rang my brother as although he was too far away to come around he did at least keep his own fish up until his move.

 

I had noticed that the water in the tank didn't seem to be moving, and had no idea how to fix it as everything seemed to be switched on. Bro suggested that the pump had gone if the water wasn't moving and remembered where my dad kept a spare (see, that's what siblings are for). I managed to remove the old one and replace it so that the water started flowing again.

 

Sadly, some of the fish haven't survived this experience. Including my dad's beloved gold nugget plecostomus. But having managed to prevent the entire tank from dying off I think he'll be okay with it. On a plus point, one of the fish my dad has been waiting to keel over now has! 

 

I'm not sure what it's called, but it's big and stripy and kept eating some of his smaller fish. I think it was supposed to be in  there to eat snails...

 

Anyway, if I'm going to get the first Superman under my belt this evening I better get on with it!

how lipstick can save the day

I had a very strange kind of a day yesterday. It started off badly and improved slowly. But mostly it was about my emotions and how the newspaper story I mentioned in my post on Sunday was still affecting me (effecting? I never know which one to use).

 

It started with my being incapable of listening to some of my favourite songs without crying. Even ones that wouldn't normally make me cry did. I accidentally heard Everybody Hurts by R.E.M. and that just made it so much worse. I'd forgotten it was in the playlist I was listening to. Now, don't get me wrong, I love that song. And I find it usually to be uplifting and reassuring. There are times when some lyrics stand out to me whilst sometimes others do.

 

I latched on to the ones about loneliness yesterday though, and what had started as a mixed up sort of a thing found a focus. And then I ended up talking to the lovely Dolly Clackett (great blog, btw) and she helped me pull myself up a bit.

 

I moved on to a rather fantastic playlist I have which combines shouty, loud, metalish music with happy, upbeat Beach Boys stuff. Made me feel much better. But then we spoke a bit about homesickness (her) and feelings of not being good enough to deserve the fabulous parents we have (both of us). And somehow knowing I'm not alone helps.

 

The desire to be better than I am shapes me. But not in good ways. I don't feel it as a motivator, more as an oppressive dictator. It makes me question all that I do and compare myself mercilessly to others. It's exhausting feeling that way. But it's lovely to have someone to talk to about it. And I hope the more I learn to talk the less it will eat me up.

 

After having my lovely cheering up chat I went to find some lunch (sushi, ftw) and found myself staring down a new lipstick in boots. It reminded me of my favourite colour from my youth. Black Cherry by Rimmel. I used to wear it loads, along with one called Heatherberry.

 

New lipstick is Barry M Lip Paint in 160 (fashion blogging now, who'd a thought it!). I found a mirror and did my face and remembered how much I like doing my make-up. I do it so rarely now. No time, nowhere to go etc. It made me feel empowered to allow myself to have a better day. Such a strange thing to say just about shoving some lippy on, but it gives you a face to show the world when you don't feel like showing it your own.

 

 

ridiculously serious expression optional

 

And I knew my day was going to get better as I was going to get to see lovely V! Ah, how she has a healing effect on me :) Her lovely smiling face and reassuring presence work wonders on me. We managed to pull off a surprise for madam as she had no idea she was going to see her fairy godmother. Fun! 

 

We went to a lovely café for a drink and madam was mainly well behaved. And we had the nice chat type things. And then, sadly, it was time to head off :( But, I got a nice surprise as V had sourced a new (to me) sewing machine! Wonderful. Many thanks also to the lovely R as I believe it came from his mother :)

 

Somehow, in all this, I failed at giving V her pressie from us... Hopefully, I'll see her again before the end of her hols though.   

 

P.S. My mother has just phoned to see if I'm ok! How does she know when I need to hear her voice? How!?  

domestic abuse in the public eye

Today is a bit odd for me... There is a big story in one of the national papers about celebrity chef Nigella Lawson being abused by her husband Charles Saatchi in public. No-one did anything about this woman being abused in front of them. It breaks my heart.

 

Now there are many people asking questions about why she would stay with someone who was obviously abusive and today I found a blog with a wonderful list of things victims are thinking. There are 20 things on this list but sadly I don't think that's all of them.

 

I started reading the comments underneath the article and it was all I could do not to weep about all the horrid things people had been through. My own experiences of DV are here and reading them back to myself still makes me feel silly for staying as long as I did.

 

But I realised I fell into some of the categories listed on the aforementioned blog and it makes me feel better to know how common it is for people to stay. I hope that I will find a relationship where I am genuinely treated the way I'd like to be, but I'm still not ready to even look.

 

There are so many people who suffer in silence and don't know where to turn. So this is the link to the refuge website and here is the phone number: 0808 2000 247. They are available 24 hours a day and won't force you to do anything you're not ready for. But if you have no-one to talk to, they're there.

 

I wish I'd had the number and spoken to them about my problems. Instead I hid and it got worse before I left (well, made him leave). I am lucky that I have a very supportive group of family and friends who have been helping me find myself again. Again, just wish I'd let them in a little sooner.

 

But the point is that I found that strength and I left. I got myself and my daughter out of harms way as much as I could. I protected her from the worst things and she's never had to suffer at the hands of her father. Although I know that the emotional trauma of having watched her mother being hit will probably never leave her, the positive message I am sending by trying to be strong will also stay with her.

 

I wasn't planning on talking about this today, I was mainly going to have a chat about it being Father's day today.

 

 

 

Obviously, I feel bad that I picked such a rubbish one for madam and I wish that he could try harder. But I can't change that and instead I am glad that she is surrounded by other positive male role models. The most important one is my dad.

 

Now, I will admit to being terrified of him when I was younger, he had a quick temper and was very shouty. But as I've grown I have seen all the things that he has done for me. I know that, realistically, I can always rely on him. Even if I feel sure he'll be cross. And he continues to be supportive and reassuring in all my endeavours. 

 

Basically, I wouldn't swap him for the world! And he's so good with my daughter, she feels completely safe with him and I know that he will be there for her in the same ways he has always been there for me. If it weren't for the fact he hates Fathers day (and lets not forget grandparents day!) I would be making as much fuss of him as he'd let me! Madam made him a Father's day card at school. She didn't want to give it to K. 

 

Sadly, he's still on holiday so, even if we were allowed to fuss him, we couldn't this year! But madam will leave him the card with her very best handwriting in for when he comes home.

 

 

Happy Father's Day to you all. I hope that there is someone in your life who is/was the father that you needed. Even if he wasn't your own... 

 

  

I think this might be verging on wallowing now

I'm still somewhere in my own thoughts somewhat. I have been trying to be more forgiving to myself over my failure to do my application but I can't stop telling myself how stupid I've been.

 

I haven't even checked the local paper for jobs yet, and I'm worried that I will never find that confidence again and end up back in some dead end job that I really don't enjoy. Cause I hated my last proper job before I had madam. It wasn't me. Didn't stretch me. Didn't make me happy.

 

And I'm not fool enough to expect to be rapturously happy at all times in whatever job I end up. Because there will always be good and bad days. But I would like to feel content for a larger portion of the time than I feel rubbish. I don't think (other than my first job, which was actually just mucking about with ice cream) I've ever achieved that.

 

I'm also fed up of feeling so miserable about myself. Of thinking about all my faults and feeling like I am ridiculously selfish. I am a bit worried I'm going to drown in my own bullsh*t.

 

My mum and dad are going on holiday today and I am suddenly aware of how lonely I'm going to be without them. I spend quite a lot of my spare time with them. Friday tea, Saturday lunch and all day Sunday in fact. And I do groceries with them on Monday mornings. We usually see them on a Weds afternoon and, whilst I've been at college, madam has had tea with them on Thursdays. So actually, the only day we don't see them is a Tuesday.

 

I might as well still live with them!

 

No, I really don't want to live with them any more. I did that for long enough before I got married. And I even did it for a short while after we did get married. I can't imagine my dad would last five minutes with madam full time! And he certainly wouldn't be the pushover with her that he is now! Though I have noticed recently that he's toughened up a bit!

 

You know, the last time my head was this messed up was the last time I spent a period of time with himself. I don't understand why I still let him make me feel so bad. And yet he still holds a draw for me. I still let him... *sighs* *makes another resolution not to let him back in my head*

 

So tell me something nice, what are you all doing? I don't want to keep obsessing, please help distract me...

how does college mix with depression?

I had a good tutorial yesterday at college and managed to get my head organised somewhat. Though I still have a few things to do, I can envision getting to the end of it. The best thing was being told that I could include my blog posts as evidence in the journal writing section.

 

This is great news as I think I write more stuff in this format than I ever did when I was writing the journals. I find it easier to write like this. I guess because there is no pressure to fulfil any kind of brief or to keep myself on topic.

 

As I was walking up to college yesterday I was giving myself a talking to (I do this a lot) and was thinking about the post I wrote about my thoughts on how I see depression and I was reviewing how I'd described it. And I realised that I don't really fit the traditional view in quite a few ways.

 

I've always heard depression described as being at the bottom of a black hole trying to see the light again. Of the perception of depression as a black dog. As I mentioned I see it more as the Nothing from the Neverending Story than as a dog.

 

But then I thought about the whole being in a pit of despair thing, and it's not how I see it. I feel more like I'm on top of an incredibly high mountain, in the dark and I need to get down and I can't. I've been terrified of heights (well, falling) for as long as I can remember and yet I've never been afraid to climb.

 

So I feel like I've done what I used to do as a child climbed too high up a tree and now I'm stuck. I can't come down as I'm afraid to fall but I can't stay where I am either as it's not safe for me. I'm also enveloped by this all consuming darkness so I can't even see if there's a safe path for me to use.

 

When I was younger and stuck up a tree whilst playing out with my brothers then my older bro would climb to where I was and show me where to put my feet and guide me down step by step.

 

I feel like I still need that intensive support to be able to find my way from where I am to where I want to be.

 

My poor tutor yesterday had to sit over me and make me fill in the worksheets that I had missed. I wish I'd been able to ask for her help earlier in the process as being able to explain myself was helpful and helped lift the blocks I've been putting in my own way. I have one that I need to decide what to do with still.

 

It's about Guilt. And I can fill it in or not. Or I can write on it about why I can't fill it in at this time. And I don't know what to do. Filling it in is not really an option as I'm afraid it would open a floodgate that I might not be able to get closed again. So I could just remove it from my portfolio, but I fell I would be cheating to do that. So I guess I'm left with having to write why I can't fill it in.

 

And I guess I have to remember that this portfolio is really for me. Not anyone else. It's my handbook, my evidence that I do know what I'm talking about (mostly).

 

So I guess I better go and do that...