I did actually have an upbeat post to regale you with today.
And then I read this
Why did I let this happen to me? by Times journalist Melanie Reid – “This is me. I’m dictating this because I lie imprisoned on a hospital bed. I’m here because, three weeks ago, I landed on my head and broke my neck. In the space of 15 minutes I have gone from someone whom I considered to be a fairly high-achieving mistress of her universe to what looks like a tetraplegic.”
Which frankly has just shamed me out of self pity.
Not having a brilliant week. Not quite having panic attacks but have reverted to Extreme Ostrich behaviour. I’ve left the house once (today) for around ninety minutes. I’ve read four novels in three days and much of that has been from my bed. I actually have a number of things I could/should do but cannot summon the energy to do them. I can’t think about Things too much as I want to cry. So I read novels instead. Counsellor tomorrow which always makes me feel better, so that’s something to look forward to.
It’s five weeks today since I was suspended.
I was having a slightly rubbish day today. It was quite promising at first, Le Homme came home last night so I slept better and woke up pretty cheerful.
Then I went into town to do some shopping. I am not good at shopping. It’s bizarre, I become incredibly indecisive when faced with too much choice. During the week I went on to the Oasis website and ordered three dresses as options to wear to a wedding on Saturday. They arrived yesterday, I tried them on, and decided which one to keep. Simples! But today, in actual shops, looking for something to buy my sister for her birthday? It took me five hours to pick three tops and some posh body lotion. And this is after her specifically saying she wanted new clothes, casual/dressy tops preferably. Then I had to buy a wedding gift which resulted in so much second guessing of myself, there were nearly tears. Particularly when I realised I’d spent twice as much as I had intended. I had also intended to look for some jewellery to wear with the new dress but retired to a cafe to have an espresso and a double chocolate brownie, to give myself a break from the mental anguish.
Returned home to discover an email from my boss. It’s been three weeks since I heard from him, or anyone else in a professional capacity. There was no greeting, there was no sympathy. It merely said
Please find attached the minutes from the investigatory meeting we carried out. I would appreciate if you could read, sign and return these as soon as possible.
Which undid all the good work done by the double chocolate brownie and reduced me to a wibbly wreck again. Not so much from the content, or the attachment, but from the sheer lack of supportive language. I haven’t seen the guy for three weeks, could he not have been a little nice? Just a little? It does not promote positive feelings about returning to work anyway.
I logged on to my wordpress account and I have comments!! People have read things and commented on them! Oh joyous day! I primarily blog for myself, since back in the day when I had a Livejournal. I love looking back over what I was doing at certain times. But comments are special, for reasons I know not. I realise I should probably be all cool, and “whatEVAH” about it, but I can’t. I get so much out of the blogs I read that it’s nice to know there’s someone out there reading mine.
“With sour faces we let a thousand bright and pleasant hours slip by unenjoyed and afterwards vainly sigh for their return when times are trying and depressing….we should cherish every present moment that is bearable, even the most ordinary, which with such indifference we now let slip by, and even with impatience push on.”
That is such a brilliant sentiment. I cannot wish back these hours, these days I’ve spent bemoaning that I’m not at work. Full in the knowledge that if I was at work, I’d only be complaining about it. Full in the knowledge that when (if? WHEN) I do go back to work, I’ll sigh for the days I stayed in bed listening to Women’s Hour. I cannot wish back these hours, but I can enjoy the ones I have now. I can do my best to prevent this from being time wasted. Even if I do spend my days in bed, it’s time well spent if I can appreciate it, in the moment.
First glorious piece of news: I slept last night all the way from 11pm to 7.30 am. This is totally normal for me, but the last three weeks or so have seen consistently broken nights, with only the radio for company. It’s possibly related to having seen the counsellor yesterday and laying a few things to rest, but whatever the reason, I’ll take it!
Secondly: The Election Debate. Oh, so much to day! Primarily about how the set designers somehow managed to make a momentous occasion look like a cheap, nasty 90s game show.
However, it’s 17 degrees and sunny outside so that can wait. Make freckles while the sun shines, cos next week it’ll be raining!
Had an appointment to see a counsellor through occupational health this morning. It was actually surprisingly useful. It was reassuring to talk things through with someone who seemed to understand how much I’d been stressing myself out and who described what I did as a “desperate act”. The worst thing about all of this has been trying to explain to people why I messed around with stuff. Why I tried to cover up a mistake that would, in the end, have been forgiven. The counsellor lady was incredibly sympathetic, understanding and managed to make me feel like I’m not a total psycho and this sort of thing could happen to anyone.
Gave myself permission to have an afternoon off from the regular work of feeling guilty and shit. Read a magazine, had a bath and watched The Talented Mr Ripley, which I remembered as having a happy ending. It does not.
Made a yummy chicken and veg stir fry with my special sauce*, had a beer and am waiting for the Election Debate to start.
EDIT: Due to my being a COMPLETE GENIUS, I’ve just noticed that everything I thought I’d posted in the last week and a half has somehow become a Draft instead. Not that anyone’s reading anything, but still.
*a genius combination of peanut butter, sweet chilli sauce and lime juice
Not a good day today. Stayed in bed till around half twelve, reading crappy chick lit. I didn’t even want to read it, but it was there. Mooched around the house, watched some rubbish films (The Holiday which was actually better than expected, despite have Jude Law in it, and Rumour Has It, in which we’re expected to believe that Jennifer Aniston would sleep with Kevin Costner).
I’m just not doing very well with the whole thing today. I feel shitty because I can’t be arsed to do anything. It’s like I said on Saturday, if it was the weekend, I’d feel perfectly fine to chill out and do nothing. But, I SHOULD BE AT WORK. And I’m not. And the reasons I’m not are my own bloody fault.