Oh so it’s head is raised

I’ve had a week of dodgy dreams and a tricky mood.  Luckily it’s been mild,  mild compared to before, and is hopefully passing now.  Last night I pretty much slept through until about 5am and then slept again until 5:45.   It’s been shit.  I’ve had suicide ideation again which I coped with.  I’ve had rage and anger inside.  I’ve been stressed about things that shouldn’t stres me.  The biggest single issue that’s getting me down is money and cash flow.  I’m charging more again now for my time at work but as usual I’m trying to get a big job finished for the final payment and lots of small call out jobs have come along.  It’s a catch 22.  Money is stupidly tight at the minute and often we don’t have much food to eat. Thank fuck I grow food or I don’t know how we’d be coping! I’m still harvesting some of last years veg.  There’s still fresh beetroot, parsnips, leeks and chard in at the allotments thankfully.  I’m so pleased that I had my gallbladder out because it fucked my year up last year.  I was constantly more tired with more niggling pain as the year went on.  I can now move forwards.  What’s caused financial issues though, and the mental issues too, was having the first operation cancelled at the last minute.  It meant I only worked maybe 6 weeks in the last 3 months of 2018.  We had no savings to rely on as usual.  I’m determined to get ahead this year.  I’ve been working Saturdays until lunchtime or just after and have even had a few Sunday emergency jobs I fitted in.  One was only an hour but it’s amazing how it affects the mindset for the following week. It’s a rolling snowball coming down the hill.  Then with broken sleep it’s gotten exasperated.  I feel much fresher today for having slept well.  

  Today  is another day and is Kara’s birthday.  Luckily I’ve got a spare £20 so we can go get chips tonight as a treat.  We’ll have some cake too.  W ever twinky won’t get fat as we’re all very trim.  One good thing about not stuffing our faces.  Fynn and I are back working out and now on week 3 or 4.  I’m building some muscle again but dropping body fat and dropping some weight.  I can almost see my abs properly again.  That’s also had a small part in my sleep and mental health too.  The working out hard and drop in calories.  I can kind of get what it’d be like if I decided to get ripped and enter a bodybuilding competition when I’ve put some decent size back on.  Maybe I should do one.  I always wanted to.  Fuck knows haha.  

Reflections

Life.  Reflecting on things.  Past. Things that are gone but did they happen or are they kind of feelings based on partial events.  I’m sitting near my fire. It’s warm. Toasty. The log burner is kicking heat out from lovely red wood embers.  Spring is almost here.  Winter is disappearing.  Memories of years gone by well up in my mind.  Facets of life from different times combine to come back to the forefront of my mind.  Do I crave some elements of my childhood and younger self still? Do feelings come from old thoughts and happenings of from now and the recollection of things?  The past is such a strange beast.  It’s gone but did it ever truly exist.  When we go to sleep and wake up did any of that past really exist? Are memories real? Photos and videos, are they really real?  Past conversations. Past angers. Past.  The past. Is it really gone.  What does the future hold?  Death is the only certainty of the future.  All else is speculation.  Conjecture. Nothing is permanent. Nothing truly exists. 

Drink and my mental health

Fridau night, and again Sunday night, I had a couple of glasses of wine. It felt good to be able to.  I thought on Sunday that it hadn’t affected me so that’s why I had some more.  Yesterday it crept up on me though.  I felt very tired, there’s a few reasons for this which I’ll get into, but I also felt my mood lowering.  I can’t drink alcohol without some payback a few days later. It really is that simple.  Luckily for me I knew what had caused the drop off. Some of the tiredness is down to working out again.  I’m now on my second week of working out since before my operation. My body is responding quite fast, it was about 3 months off, and has already started changing and building muscle.  Once again I’m dropping some weight but getting bigger due to body fat loss.  Initially the tiredness can affect my mood, lowering it slightly, until my body responds better and it lifts more.  Another thing that has played on my mind is the death of Keith Flint.  Such a shock.  Very saddening.  It shows up yet again that wealth and fame don’t make you immune from mental pain and torture.  I really feel for his family.  All of these small things connect like a spiders web for me and build a slightly bigger picture.  So I’ve been having early nights and it’s helping.   I’m feeling ok and I know it will pass pretty fast.

 Last weekend I got an unofficial PB up the casting field and that made me feel good.  Things do try to balance out.  

Reflecting on life

I’m in a reflective mood. I’m thinking about friends and family here, gone and out of contact.  Life moves forwards but does it change? When people aren’t in touch anymore it’s all we can do I guess. Does life change? Really? Do we kid ourselves in life? Are we still just children but in adult body’s? Do we make or break contact? Do we move forwards? Is there truly a forwards?  Maybe I’m just reflective.  

 I’m pushing hard to get ahead yet still behind. Money comes in and goes out.  I payed the web hosting on my credit card as I couldn’t loose all that I’ve written in here over the years. One day I’ll go back to the start and read through. All I can do is keep going.

  I’m missing contact with some friends but life is life.  I’m never sure if I should see how they’re doing or not.  Maybe it’d be unwelcome.   Life. 

Everything can fuck off

I’m tired of everything. It can all fuck off.  I’m tired of a sexless marriage.  It’s cold.  I’m tired of the coldness.  I don’t think I can keep living like this. I’m 44. I’m not 94.  I don’t think I can survive it any more.  It’s time to reassess my life fully.  The house is a shit hole. The garden is a shit hole. The boiler has been broken almost 2 1/2 years.  I’m pretty much the sole earner now and I can’t jeep it going or together. I’m sick and tired of working my arse off for absolutely fuck all other than tax’s and bills.  There’s never anything left. In fact it’s the opposite. I get more debt. I’m the one who has toshoulder it all. Always.  Fuck it all.  Oh and it’s 11 years ago since my mum died today.  She was 53 if I die at that age I’ve not got long left. Maybe time to start thinking about living properly not in a cold shouldered relationship.  Who knows.  

Good news bad news?

Last Tuesday I had a doctors appointment for a med review.  We chatted a few things through and talked about dosages etc.  We’ve decided that I’ll lower my dose by half. So now I’m only on 50mg of lamotrigine.  It’s a tiny amount.  The idea is that I’ll stick with it a few months and in maybe 6 months I’ll try coming off completely, unless I’ve had to up my dose again.  It’ll have some roughness with it, which I’ve noticed a bit already, due to the change in chemistry in my brain. I’m happy to come off if I can keep reasonably stable. All ok so far bar minor blips but that’s ok.    

  Work is busy and itslooking like a busy year ahead with a few possible changes involved too.  However at the moment money is beyond tight.  I’ve had to set up a payment plan with HMRC as I’ve not been able to pay my tax and it was over due. Luckily they took onboard my reasons.  Having the operation cancelled and then actually having it a month away from Christmas has seriously thrown things into disarray.  I also had to put off Decembers mortgage payment. I now have to top up payments over the next 3 months.  It’s tight but I think I’ll be ok.  I’m trying not to stress but it’s tight.  It’s possible that this blog might have to disappear as it’s up for renewal on 11th.  I’ll try finding a way of sorting it so it doesn’t go but if it does I hope I’ll be able to bring it back online.  If not I wish you all well.  

A torn time of year

It’s Christmas Day tomorrow.  I love and hate this time of year.  There’s a whole lost of why for both sides of it.   The stress that is parents place on ourselves is absolutely stupid and crazy.  The stress others put on us by telling us to do this or that ‘because it’s christmas’.  The ‘trying to do what’s right’.  The buying of presents and trying to keep to a budget but feeling shit as we’ve only spent £X pounds etc.  I love my kids and do love buying them Christmas presents but I don’t feel it has to be Christmas to tell them I love them, treat them or spend time with them.  So much tears at me.  I wish my parents were alive to see my kids grow up.  It really does deeply sadden me that they won’t know the grandparents on this side of the family.  I feel I was let down in some ways as a kid and now feel that I’m kind of letting them down as my parents are dead. It’s crazy.  It’s stress.  Hey ho. 

Sick of this shit

I’m sick of all the shit in my life. Next year, early new year, I’m going to be making some very drastic changes to my life. I need to be better at protecting my kids. I walk on eggshells. It’s funny how in a family everyone seems to have an issue that needs addressing bar one person. There’s a common denominator in it all yet that common denominator is the one who refuses help and refuses to admit any faults. Yet they are the ones always finding issue with the others. It’s going to stop. It’s going to finish. No more passive aggressive or aggressive behaviour, especially when drunk or 2-3 days after getting drunk. The patterns are there. They’ve been shown yet nothing is done to rectify. Enough. I’ve had enough. It’s also tipping my mind now and I’m needing less sleep. I was awake at 3am and ready to get up. How I got back to sleep I’ll never know other than knowing it wouldn’t be good for my mental health.  I’m skint. This house bleeds me dry mentally, emotionally and physically. Fuck it all. It can all fuck off.  I’m sick of working hard for nothing, zero, zilch.