This has been a weird day 

Today has been rather strange. Well, it’s not so much strange, but it’s been a bit of a blue one. I’ve been feeling quite low. I guess with having depression and everything, this is to be expected from time to time BUT it nevertheless sucks. 

I’m feeling fat today. Well, actually I know that I am fat but the powers that be limit the amount of physical exercise I can do without causing me harm. So you know, I’ve put on a fair few pounds and it’s made me pretty fork in the mouth. My mum tells me that I should not blame myself or punish myself for something that is out of my hands and I guess she is right but it doesn’t make me feel much better. Urgh!

Anyway, work was draining today also. I’ve been working my ass of all week as usual. You can say what you want about me but I’m a dedicated hardworking person. But it’s a thankless job. I definitely need this weekend to dust away the cobwebs. 

I also feel rather bad about a situation with someone. I’m afraid I’ve hurt their feelings and I’m really not that sort of person. But my anxiety being the way it is, I just didn’t feel comfortable about doing it and so I declined. I hope it doesn’t affect what they think of me. Maybe I should be like Jim Carrey in the Yes Man and just say YES to everything. Not sure how long I could make that last but I don’t think it’s true that there is major pluses in giving things a shot. 

Just lying here right now trying to decide what to do next with my night. I don’t want to waste it but feel drained and too low to do anything. Help!

I’m worried about my Mum

I’m really worried about my Mum. She’s an amazing person. Her and my Dad were made for each other. She’s also the greatest Mum in the world and my best friend. There isn’t a person on this planet who has been more supportive with my OCD, anxiety and depression and without her, I’d probably be in a much darker place. 

Which is why I’m really concerned about her. No two bones about it, this year has been especially tough on her. Hell, it has been pretty bad for all of us. This year, I lost a very dear Uncle to cancer. He had a long fight with it and some major ups and downs. Then last November, he told us there was nothing they could do. In January he passed away. The two of them were very close. We spoke every day. She pretty much helped bring him up and their birthdays are literally next to each other. Losing my Uncle was just the biggest shock to my family and one that I doubt we will ever truly recover from. She also has to deal with a lot. She’s the engine of the family. And you know, if it wasn’t for her, I’m not sure how much would get done. My brother being autistic can be hard work, especially since he’s non-communicative.  And me, well, with my OCD being what it is and my other health issues that I’m having, I have not been easy on her either. I feel pretty guilty about that and hate that I’m adding extra pressure on her. Believe me, I would love nothing more than to snap out of it and I’m always trying new things to help but it’s a tough process. 

Anyway, Christmas is on the way and all of us can’t get into the Christmas spirit, my Mum especially. She is very down and it’s so sad to see. She’s usually very excited about Christmas but it’s so understandable. She lost her Mum this time of year and now with memories of my Uncle too, it’s just too much.  Yet she struggles on. And she looks unwell. She looks washed out and ends every day tired. She’s also losing weight because she’s not eating much, which worries me too. I want to do more to help her but my OCD gets in the way so much that it frustrates me terribly and I hate seeing her like this.  I would love to wake up tomorrow obviously and my OCD to be gone. It would be the best thing in the world for everyone. Being freaked out by contamination is horrible and every day is a struggle. But I need to help my Mum.  

Something has to change fast too. I can’t lose her. 

Missing the Old Days


I’m feeling quite down tonight; I’m thinking of old times. Specifically I’m thinking about my time at University. A time before I was diagnosed with all my mental health problems. It was a simpler time. One that for one year was ABSOLUTELY perfect. Whenever I hear music from that time, it brings me right back. And my stomach fills with butterflies. 

I hated school you see. I never knew who I was. I was always an outcast. Sure, I had some friends but we were always people on the periphery. In fact, we probably never really liked each other that much. We just had nobody else. And when I left school, I said to myself that I’d never go back. It was over and I was only going to live for the future. 

When I started uni, I was really nervous. I barely touched alcohol. The most I had was a bit of Bacardi at Christmas and the ocassional Millers that my Mum bought me. I had to live off campus at the start at this satellite place. I was scared from being alone from my parents and I cried when my Dad left. I didn’t even know there was a bus that took me into uni and I thought I had to walk for ages and spend loads of money on trains to get where I needed to be. Luckily, when I went into the communal kitchen, I met some of my new housemates include this really great law student and one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever known. I fancied her like crazy but she already had a boyfriend and I’m the sort of guy that respects that. Plus she was WAY out of my league. I got on really well with my new housemates and became friends though when I started my degree, I immediately met like minded people who I had made stronger bonds with. Some who I even speak to now. 

As time moved on, things got better. I moved to a halls of residence close to campus. I took my first venture to a union bar. Was coaxed to a club for the first time by some of my friends (I had a great time by the way); discovered one of my new flat mates had lovely boobs (no I never hooked up with her but clubs have interesting dress codes). I made some even closer friends. Became a music “expert”. Bought more CDs than ever before.  Went out to town with friends. Went to country pubs. I fell in love deeply for the first time (I met the girl I thought I was going to marry). I did well with my course. I had a social life. Hell, I was a student bar most nights. Life was the best it had ever been. 

I made the mistake of keeping in touch with one guy from school though. 

I was under the impression that we were friends. And I felt bad for him. He screwed up in his final year of school and redid his final year again. He originally wanted to do engineering but had a change of heart to do art instead. I wanted him to get ahead and I was loving uni life so I didn’t want him to miss out so I convinced him to apply to the neighbouring university. I wanted to share the happiness. He got into the university and I was happy for him. Plus he would be living with us. I should have known that was a bad idea from the time he visited us. But I was idealistic. Naive. Happy. 

In the following two years, the happiness I had collapsed. He took over. He influenced other friends of mine and I partly blame him for one guy underachieving with dreams of bands and stuff. He made a play on the girl I was in love with and told her crap about me. She met another guy the day he first visited me and she ended up marrying him. She even has a child with him. That broke my heat probably the worst. And after the end of the second year where I drank too much, thought hard about killing myself and being genuinely miserable, I nearly decided to never go back. My good deed ended up ruining my life. My degree was in tatters. And in the third year, well the third year I ended up consolidating. I shut myself off from the world. I cried a lot. I lived in hope that I could still get a good enough grade for medical school but it was too little too late. I left uni heartbroken, completely messed up and failing to achieve what I wanted to. And all that I am left with are these amazing tunes that remind me of that perfect year. 

These days, my OCD and depression are the worst they have been.  I’m socially anxious. Hell, I’m anxious about everything and I’ve lost touch with most of my friends. A knock on effect of the shame of flunking and the pain I went through. I can no longer drink beer with gluten in. In fact, I can’t eat anything with gluten in. I never leave the house unless I’m going to hospital. My life is a shadow of that great time. 

I look back it all and it to this day day, even though it happened over ten years ago haunts me. I think of what I lost. What I had. What I could have had. God it hurts so much. 

How do you plan your weekday evenings?

Oops. I posted this in the wrong blog. So this is for you my awesome peeps!

The Entertainment Patrol (and general musings)

Okay, so I know this is a rather random question but I’m going to ask it anyway. And here’s why.

Like most of you, I have a rather limited amount of free time. I work 5 days a week and then I have my OCD which takes up numerous additional moments of washing hands, wiping objects down etc. It’s a bit of a pain but it certainly adds to my time because rather than finishing work, grabbing a bite to eat and chilling in my room, I’m usually wiping my work stuff down, eating, preparing for a shower, showering and then manoeuvring myself into my room. This whole process from finishing work to making it to my room usually takes about three and a half hours so I usually get to my room at 8.30-9pm. I should add that from that point, I’m locked in. There’s no getting drinks or…

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Hospital 

So I had a pretty messed up day. 

It all started fine. Got ready for work, started work etc. All good. I was actually pretty excited about today because I had a bunch of presents coming for my Mum’s birthday. I bought her a scarf and handbag as well as a cute hedgehog shaped key ring. All really cute things. I also ordered some China mugs from Amazon which were really sweet. 

Anyway, my package arrives about 2pm and I eagerly open it up to see the goodies and one of my mugs is smashed to pieces. Part of me is angry with the driver but then again, Amazon never put on the box that it was fragile so should I be surprised? I had to chat with them anyway and I spoke with a complete idiot who took ages to comprehend what I was saying. After forty minutes of deliberation, we finally got to the point where I got my replacement sorted and all was well in the world. Well, so at least I thought. 

About five minutes after getting back to work, I all of sudden become overcome by excruciating pain. I should add that I have been having gastrointestinal issues now for a number of years but this was pain like I’ve never felt. I was bent over on the floor, I couldn’t sit down, I couldn’t lie down. It was unbearable.  Being a stupid proud man, I tried to shake it off. “No no, it’s okay” I said while I was writhing around on the floor. This continued on for 3 and a half hours. At this point, post powerful painkillers and all my usual treatments, I said “I can’t take this anymore. I need to go to hospital”. 

Now I hate going to hospitals.  Well, specifically, I hate going to Accident and Emergency because frankly nothing ever gets resolved there. But I had no choice. I needed help and my Dad, bless him, ran me down there to help me. 

When I got there, there was the usual stick. You register at the desk and then await to be seen. I was in such excruciating pain though that I just wanted help. Eventually, a nurse saw me and she gave me some more powerful painkillers. Things began to settle down a bit at that point and I waited patiently at the waiting section to see a doctor. In the end, I waited about 90 minutes to be seen which all in all wasn’t that bad. 

The doctor sadly wasn’t much help though. She gave me a prescription for more painkillers and she said that if it gets worse to come back. Really great huh? Anyway, after a period of time, I got home and now I feel like crap. The pain is absolutely excruciating still and I really wish I could just sleep. 

Nothing says Thursday night like a hospital though. 

Dying inside (Poem)

I come to bed at night and think
of misery that comes my way
Often not in physical form
but through my thoughts and mind instead,

A deepest darkness fills inside
And there is no real clear escape
When little things make major mountains
out of stupid little molehills that
mean much more than perhaps they should.

If folks could know when dealing with
the sadness that their comments bring
it’s just a number, that’s all it is
But to me it is my life
when you grab on to little things
those molehills put you into strife

I’ll never get my contentment back
those days are far and gone for good
I’d say I’m dying here inside
But death has come. My heart. No thud.