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Monthly Archives: January 2014

On my way!!

I’m on my way to South Africa!!

And for the first time ever I have a house sitter. Hehe.

Can’t wait to get there!!

 
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Posted by on January 9, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Resolution

So, it’s a new year. And while I have tons of ‘resolutions’ (aka intentions of improving things such as excercising more and being more frugal which I was going to do anyway, regardless of the date, and which I was working on before New Years too)… I have one resolution.

 

A brainwave idea, more like.

After ordering 230 euro’s worth of sale items on Asos, all of which I can use, really… I decided to quit clothes shopping for the rest of the year.

At first it was a guilt-driven idea, but when I think about it, it’s a good idea. I need to shop less, I need to spend less money on it, and a year is about long enough to get it out of my system and find a new way to deal with it.

I am allowed to buy underwear as needed, and socks and pantyhose (these tend to rip too often).

Receiving clothes is OK.

But, no clothes, no shoes, no accessories. I can MAKE stuff out of things I already have. I can learn to use a sewing machine to alter stuff, if my mum doesn’t hit me over the head with a roller pin out of frustration if I get it wrong again. (Really, how hard can it be?)

It’s a challenge.

 
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Posted by on January 2, 2014 in Brilliant ideas, Dear Diary, Money

 

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Not-so-happy New Year?

I’ve crashed a bit. 

As I’m probably overreacting (I hear that a lot. Can’t decide if it’s true, or if people just don’t get it. Whatever.)

I can’t bear to ‘look back’ at 2013, and right now I’m not up for looking forward to 2014, as I feel like the rug has been pulled from under my feet, and what seemed like a fun challenge a few days ago, feels like Mount Everest in front of me now. 

So, no need for anyone to read this, I do need to write it off and this is my blog so my space. You can come back another day when I’m feeling better. Because I know everyone has their own sores and I shouldn’t burden anyone with it. I’ve been told that often enough as well. 

So here’s an amazing photo from Deviantart:

 

It’s complicated. 

And I am confused. 

I’ve had too much. All the hurt, all the snake bites, all the snakes’ poison spreading. It resonates in my head, and it’s like all the pain from the past is here again, like a High-veld thunder storm in my head. I’ve just had too much.

I asked them to stop. They didn’t. They kept on kicking me with their words, even when I was down. I don’t think they realise it, but I don’t understand what’s so difficult about STOP PLEASE.

And then TDH did the same, and instead of listening when I tell him I am hurting, he goes on to accuse me of things I only did in his mind. I did not ‘take it all out on him’. Unless talking to him about what happened after asking about some things he’s facing and being hurt while he was there counts as ‘taking it all out on him’. I would never do to him what they did to me.

I may be unable to respond kindly to hurtful things he said to me.

Everyone seems to see me as some doormat, and doormats must be able to respond kindly when being trampled on. I don’t know.

What do I have to do to be seen for who I am?

 

It’s a long story, starting far before everything.

I feel like my family doesn’t even know who I am, don’t respect me and have this whole projection of who they think I’m supposed to be in their heads. I’ve spoken of this before.

My cousin and a friend of hers is in the country at the moment. Everything was hazy, and I told my sisters they were welcome, just not when I was doing night shift. Because it wouldn’t be practical or fun for everyone. When they asked me what my plans were I had no idea, my schedule is so irregular that I really have no idea what I’m working next week. (Well, for a change I do, because my vacation starts next week). 

The shit started in the evening of Christmas day. When they were at it again. It was nothing different, it just suddenly struck me that I was being -subtly- portrayed as someone I am not. And the shit started about me -having slept 4 hours and having worked an acute psych shift on Christmas Day- not being able to recall or make a detailed schedule of my life for the next weeks. 

The next day, I recall some blur of trying to make an agreement on when I’d have my cousin over. In the end, they came on the 29th.

That wasn’t the end of it.

I was in my night shift. Everything’s a bit blurry now. 

I remember being messaged awake by my sister 20 mins after I posted a status update on FB essentially saying I was trying to sleep. I had just fallen asleep, and received several messages, ruining my only opportunity for that morning nap. Her response? Too bad.

I remember too many attempts to make plans, to many different information, too many haziness.

I remember that same sister refusing to help out with stuff, yet, more or less demanding that I plan stuff so it works out perfectly for her. I remember other sister demanding I have them back for dinner, like I’m a teenage boyfriend taking my girl out.

I remember being completely stressed out because I had no idea when I was supposed to get them, and then actually finally getting my hands on them long after my intended post-night shift bedtime. I told them a million times I had night shift, please consider that. Response? ‘I intended on calling you later, you never go to bed that early anyway’. I remember hearing my other sister in the background, discussing OUR situation with them, I heard her saying I didn’t get something and everyone laughing. I asked about it, they said it was that I didn’t get her ‘personality structure’. Actually I do, better than she does, which is exactly WHY I don’t take crap from her. I’m not helping her if I go along with her compulsive nature. 

Anyway. I could sense the manipulative poison being spread. I feel like I’ve lost my cousin, who used to be like a little sister to me. I had to fight very hard to get some time with her, and that process made ME look bad of course, because THEY are pro’s when it comes to manipulating. 

The twins hadn’t even asked if I wanted to go to the beach with them and another cousin, assuming that my ‘maybe I can go see some family members, I don’t know’ meant my plans were set in stone. I have no idea what they said to my cousin about it. 

I remember enjoying the time with my cousin and the others, but it being partly clouded by unclear stuff.  I remember knowing nothing about having plans to meet my friend at a specific time, apart from one of the twins deciding I had to do it in the morning and telling everyone I had plans to meet a friend in the morning. 

I don’t know. 

I remember being two hours late for when I did have plans with my friends, because of the haziness and the fuss coming from the twins. 

I then got in a fight with TDH who took my inability to plan and prepare a perfect dinner party as a sign that I thought he wasn’t important. I’m not even capable of making my own spaghetti without screwing up something somewhere along the line. I almost missed the deadline for my own graduation, due to my less than perfect executive function. (Seriously. I handed in my paperwork electronically on December 31st, 2010, at 23h45. ). The fact that he accused me of not caring about him hurt me deeply. And reminded me of all the other times, all the other people who were horrible to me about something I simply couldn’t help. I did try my best, I really did. I was completely overwhelmed, had no idea where to start and I couldn’t bend my knee. 

And TDH wouldn’t believe me. How can I trust someone who wouldn’t even believe me? I honestly tried my best. It’s hard for me to really trust people, and right now I needed him to be my floating device by simply being who he normally is, instead he did that. 

Complicating factor: my knee started hurting the day before yesterday and I have no idea what happened to it. I can’t remember any fall, bump or significant subluxation. I just left for the English store (I wanted to make peppermint Crisp for pudding for new years. They had none of the ingredients, so I made lemon merengue instead, making the day for my mum). I noticed my knee hurt every time I bent it. 

And it got worse. 

By the time I got home on the 30th, it hurt. I’m not one to complain of an injury quickly. Usually I find minor pains very funny, such as being sore after excercising. I thought it was weird that my knee hurt, but shrugged it off and kept going. It got worse. It was on fire when I got home. I took some ibuprofen to lessen the pain so I could sleep. It took me 15 minutes to get undressed and dressed again, these everyday things have their own challenges when you can’t bend your leg. Long live joint hypermobility, but then again, that probably was what caused the problem in the first place. 

The next morning, I had a problem. I wanted to have tea with my cousin, but that didn’t work as I was unable to get there as the knee definitely needed rest. Not that it was going to get any, mind you. I put a supportive bandage on it, after concluding it’s either injury or inflammation to my quad tendon. (It looked a lot like a prepatellar bursitis in the morning, actually, but after icing it the swelling went down and I could differentiate). The bandage helped a lot. 

I still had to do groceries, and I tried to figure out what outfit would be the least painful. I phoned my dad to ask him if he could pick up my shoes for me from the DHL depot. (I ordered narrow-feet shoes in the sale, but DHL and I have issues so I just have them leave it at the depot whenever possible, travelling there and back is less frustrating and possibly more time-efficient (it costs me about an hour and a half) than trying to have them deliver it to me. I told him I wasn’t going to be able to do it myself due to my leg, and that I had to figure out how to get the groceries done since I can’t go very far. He said I should suck it up with my ‘little pains’. Last time he told me that I had had both a lateral collateral band injury and a tear halfway through the iliotibial tract in my other leg. Given that the latter apparently is an indication for surgery, I think I did a pretty good job at ‘sucking it up’ during healing. I didn’t even see a physical therapist about it. (My sisters massaged it, gave me ‘stretches’ and actually pushed  muscle back through the hole. I said it was torn. They, 4th year physical therapy students, wouldn’t believe me until I had seen a physical therapist a year later because my muscle kept failing me when I ran). Actually, the LCL band never fully recovered, and still hurts when I run past muscle fatigue. I need my muscles to keep my joints together. 

Anyway. I bought chicken at the closest supermarket, walking around like Captain Hook with a straight leg. I wore a dress and tights because that’s easier to get into than jeans. I performed yoga whenever I needed to pick stuff up from the floor. My other leg started complaining because I had to stand on it all day and it had to do all the effort when walking. 

The dinner itself went fine I guess. I just didn’t enjoy my own food. I am worried about what my mum told TDH’s mum about me. TDH’s mum brought me a suitcase I could borrow. My mum made it clear, in front of everyone, that that wasn’t necessary as I could use one of theirs. Especially since my sisters now had suitcases of their own. I wouldn’t have asked his mum if I had any faith in these suitcases. My parent’s don’t care whether or not I can actually handle the suitcase if it’s packed, as they think I’m really overreacting because I’m worried about having to get from Heathrow to Gatwick in 4 hours, during Heathrow rush. (I have 4 hours on the ground in total if everything goes well. I have to get through customs, enter the EU, get my luggage, manage to get to the other side of London and check in at least an hour in advance for my next flight). Plus, I know what they have in terms of suitcases and expected to be offered the worst one after my sisters. And with all the chaos between everything I had completely forgotten to think of the suitcases. And my mum made a show about it. 

But I guess the bilateral parents enjoyed meeting each other. And my sister was mad at me for not inviting EVERYONE. We don’t have a thing with New Years. In fact, last year I spent it here, on this very sofa, being very ill. TDH was here. They were not. If we had a ‘thing’, you’d think they would have accommodated me last year, right? I wouldn’t even want to spend New Years with my parents and her boyfriends parents if that was their first meeting! 

And by midnight everyone was tired. 

I was tired long before that. It may seem like small things, but the collective impact on me was more than I wanted it to be. It was more than I could handle. 

I’m not easily throwing another dinner party.

Apparently my cousin was really rude at my sisters’ place with New Years. No comment on that. 

And I cuddled with a kitty tonight, a kitten who landed in front of upstairs neighbours door. She turned out to live two doors away from me. Upstairs neighbours were looking for her home, they rang my door and I offered to help by taking her in for a while, as carrying a cat around was a little impractical. They couldn’t leave her at their place as they had dogs. 

On the up side, I now have red shoes again. 

 

 
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Posted by on January 1, 2014 in Uncategorized