Fixing Things

I haven’t done a stream of consciousness in a while.

In fact, I haven’t blogged at all in a while.

I’ve been trying to fix things. I went to my doctor and she’s put me on a new pill that will help my skin and is also ‘mood neutral’, and on Thursday I’m meeting with a mental health nurse and she’s making me a plan where I see a shrink 6 times and it doesn’t cost me a billion dollars.

I’m nervous though. I don’t feel that messed up. Sure, I had a couple of bad weeks. But that was a while ago now. And doctors are scary. And if I start talking I’ll say EVERYTHING and who is ever ready to talk about every single shitty little fucked up thing that happened in their life.

I’m good at making a joke about it. Like, ‘oh yeah. Haha. I was anorexic for years but it’s funny because ...’ only it’s not really funny.

I don’t know how to go about fixing it all. It feels like the most I can do is get permission to feel like I do. Most of the time I think I do handle it all. I talk to J about how I feel, and I take 10 minutes out when I need it to just do nothing. So what the hell can they do?

But something needs to be done. I need the help.

Happy Birthday!

Yesterday was my littlest sister's (I'll call her B) birthday.
She's now officially a teenager! But I'm never going to stop calling her Bubby.
I remember my other sister, T, and I staying at a family friend's place the day mum was induced.
I remember the phone call saying, 'your little sister's here! She has big blue eyes and red hair'
T and I, in unison, 'RED HAIR?! Why?!'. Coming from a family full of brunettes, it was a bit weird.
It took me 3 days to actually learn her name because I'd never heard it before and it sounded like the parentals were speaking gobbledygook.
I remember a lot of her childhood. I was almost more of a parent than a sibling, she's very nearly 8 years younger than me. She fell asleep in my arms and I got to stay up late because mum didn't want me to move her.
She crawled out of her cot and when I went to check on her, there was toothpaste and tampons strewn all over the room.
Her favourite baby food was chocolate custard, and I'd always feed it to her so that I could eat some too.
I loved her more than I'd loved anyone or anything then. And I love her at least that much now.
She is the absolute best sister in the whole entire world, except for maybe T :)
She is beautiful and smart and witty and always knows when you need a hug.
B, I can't believe you're all grown up now. I'm so proud of you. I love you SO much!
I hope you had an awesome birthday, and I hope your party this weekend is super fun.
Enjoy being a teenager. Stay amazing. Never forget your big sister loves you :)

On Bullying

Bullying is bugging me.
I mean, it always bothers me, but it's at the forefront of my mind lately.
I was bullied. Not beaten up on the way home, but excluded. I went to 9 different schools, and was always the new kid. It took everyone less than a week to realise I was also the smart one. Mostly people talked to me when they needed help with something. Otherwise, I was always the last one chosen for everything.
What bothered me more was the bullying at home. From family.
My mothers is a bully. I remember her pointing out my wayward eyebrows before I paid any attention to them.
I remember her telling my sister (who is one of the prettiest people I know, and has had the boys chasing her since she could walk) that she had footballer thighs.
She's said a lot of other things, but I've moved on from that. The memories still hurt, but they are just memories now. I don't live through it every day.
A boy named Blake Rice is living in fear.
In the flash floods in Toowoomba his mother and brother drowned after telling rescuers to save him first.
He's currently in a cast because he broke his collar bone running away from bullies. A group of teens chased him with sticks.
He's only 10 years old and he's been receiving death threats every day since he went back to school.
Why? He's being teased because half of his family died and he survived.
A lot of this is coming from people older than him. He and his father are planning to move because of it all.
I will never understand this. I don't want to.




This is my Stream of Consciousness :) Head over to Fadra's site to check out her ramblings :)

I Don't Do Things By Halves...

When I was younger, I was crazy smart.
By the time I finished grade 2, I was ready to start grade 4. Because back then they worked at the child's level, pushing the smarter ones, and paying extra attention to the ones who needed it, instead of whatever it is they do now, but that's for another day. 

Last time I went to the optometrist, the lady kept on asking me if I was sure. 

"Are you sure the top line is clearer?"
"Are you sure you can't make out that letter?"

Turns out my distance vision is perfect. As in, I could not possibly have better distance vision and still be human. 

However I have the focusing abilities of a 70 year old man. I can read things close up, but I get a mega headache after about 5 minutes. She said she's never seen anybody have that before. Hardly a medical miracle, but a medical extreme. 

Nearly a month ago now, I got tonsillitis. I went into the doctor and when she asked, 'what can I do for you today?' I said, 'I'm pretty sure I have tonsillitis'. She got me to say, 'Ahhh' and looked for maybe .01543 of a second and was all, 'yeah. That's tonsillitis. Have you had this before'. Yada, yada, yada. 

Turns out it's the worst case she'd seen that hadn't been hospitalised. And yes, it really did come up like that overnight. Luckily, thanks to living on a diet of antibiotics, pain killers, cream cheese and jelly for 48 hours, about 20 of which I was actually awake for, I did not need a trip to the hospital where an IV would 'get on top of things'. 

Then I was at the doctors again on Wednesday. Doctors freak me out. They haven't always, only for the past 3 years or so. I have no idea why. I've never really had a traumatic experience, it's just one day I rocked up for a check out and to get a prescription, and in the waiting room I was shaking and I could hear my pulse and I could not calm down. Ever since then, doctors take my blood pressure at least twice because surely it can't possibly be that high. Only it is. I've been given the take-home blood pressure testing kit twice now, for a week, and I need to monitor it. At the doctor once, it was 169/104. The highest it has EVER been with me doing it was 142/90, and that was after an hour at the gym. Usually it sits around 115-130/75-85. Meaning that according to my doctor, I have the most severe case of white-coat syndrome she's seen. Especially for someone who has never had a traumatic experience with a doctor. 

All of this leads me to believe that for some reason, I can't just do anything normally. I read really fast, I drink a lot of water, I fall asleep really quickly, sometimes with my eyes still open. Yes, it freaks J out too. 

So, does everybody just exaggerate, or is it just impossible for me to be average at anything?

Four Years Ago Today

Four years ago today, J phoned me. It was the Saturday before Easter Sunday, and at least 10 at night. Everyone else was in bed asleep.
He said, 'Will you go out with me?'. It came out all rushed and hopeful and adorable.
I said, 'Yes' quickly enough that he obviously knew I knew he was going to ask.
We were 16 and lived 6 hours away from each other and were both only just starting to feel happy after a really crappy 6ish months.
That night I happy screamed into my pillow because I was too hyped up to sleep.
I went to school when term went back actually happy. Everyone commented on it. I let all the people I'd spent every day with for 2 years actually become real friends.
I still have a folder of every email and letter he sent me. I have a book where I wrote down all the sweet texts he sent me.
Sometime in September J's family was in Toowoomba and he spent not long enough at my place. It was our first kiss, on my pink single bed, surrounded by excess cushions and stuffed animals. It was amazing.
I started thinking that maybe this would be a forever thing.
I spent 10 days in Moree alone with him at the end of 2007. He gave me one of his shirts. I saw baby photos of him. We watched Star Wars. We played grown ups. We fell in love.
I moved in August 2008 to be with him. We bought our unit in May 2009. He proposed at the prettiest place in town on July 10th. We've spent one night apart since the end of 2008. Our home is happy.
He taught me patience and some basic level of emotional control.
I've taught him to access his emotions.
He introduced me to chicken, cheese and tomato sauce sandwiches.
I got him to eat carrot, even if it was with a grimace :)
I think he is the most attractive person in the whole entire world.
I've never caught him looking at anyone's cleavage but mine.
He is funny and caring and stronger than anyone else I know.
As a bonus, he comes from what is probably the best family in the whole entire world.
I love him so much :)
Happy anniversary J!

Why So Stressful?

The wedding.
My wedding actually. It's definitely been at the forefront of my mind lately.
I've been engaged for nearly 2 years now, so for a lot of that time, the wedding hasn't really been the main focus. But now we're down to the business end of things. I mean, there's still 8 months. But the dress is ordered, I'm thinking about shoes. I'm starting a very diligent skin-care routine.
It seems like every time I turn around someone's asking how the wedding is coming along.
And it would be coming along awesomely, if I had a celebrant organised. And a florist. And a spare $10000.
Why does it have to be so expensive?? Why do you feel obligated to invite every relative? We're not. We're inviting people we can see ourselves still talking to in 10 years time. I'd like the guest list around 50. I've stretched to 70. It's looking more like 80-90. And I'm the meanie. I'm the one saying, 'I'm not having *insert relative I only just discovered I had here* there'.
Did you know I have great aunties and uncles? I didn't. I still don't know their names. So why am I feeling guilty for saying, 'no'?
Not to mention that each extra 'yes' is another $60 for the feed, plus bonbonniere, plus figuring out where they're all going to sit/sleep (the reception venue has cabins, etc).
It makes me wish nobody knew we were getting married. I'd still have a wedding. I'd have a couple of very close friends in on it, and tell everybody else that we were just having an epic birthday or something. Then I'd walk out in a big white dress and there'd be vows and it would be amazing.
I think it still will be amazing. I just wish the 8 months until we get there could be amazing as well.




I'm linking up with Fadra again. Sadly, it's been a while. Head to her site to read the rules, and maybe a few other Streams of Consciousness.

No, J, That's Your *Uvula*

So, it's been a while...
Mostly I had too many ideas of what to write, and not enough decision-making thoughts to actually do it.
And then, I got sick.
On Thursday night I thought I maybe had a sore throat. So I took a lozenge and didn't think anything of it.
Then I woke up on Friday, and definitely had a sore throat, so I brought a whole pack of lozenges to work with me, but left my Nurofen at home (wise move, I know), and by about lunch time I was wincing every time I had to swallow. Even just to swallow WATER. So eating was not really an option.
I got home and told J I thought I had tonsillitis and should probably see a doctor. I asked him to look down my throat and see if my tonsils were swollen/red/unusual in any way.
He had a look and shrugged and said they were a bit red.
On Saturday morning I woke up and could barely even TURN MY HEAD because it hurt and I'm a sook, so J rang the doctor right on 9 o'clock while I was getting my eyebrows waxed and made me an appointment. The doctor said I might need to go to hospital and get a drip, 'just to get on top of it'.
But... I was so not okay with that. I do not like doctors. At all. Or needles. Or even taking medicine unless I KNOW I'm sick. So instead I was stuck with antibiotics and Panadeine Forte and anaesthetic throat gargle and Nurofen AND these numbing antibacterial lozenges.
So on Saturday, I think on a weight-for-weight basis the thing I ate the most of was tablets.
And they gave me HUGE tablets. When swallowing excess saliva hurts, a tablet that is 2cm long is not appealing.
Anyway, I was instructed to keep my liquids up, rest, and take pain meds every 2  hours, alternating between Panadeine Forte and Nurofen.
Haha.
Turns out my body can't handle that much Codeine, and I started vomiting.
Vomiting up past ridiculously swollen and pus-y and painful tonsils. Oh yeah, it was fun to be me on Saturday.
Anyway, I slowly got better from then on. I've slept a lot and drunk a lot of water and not done a lot else.
Although yesterday I made lasagne for the first time ever, and I didn't even use a recipe, and it was freaking delicious. It was absolutely the best first-meal-after-tonsillitis ever.
Also, I read 'Live to Tell' by Lisa Gardner and it was awesome, if you like reading kind of messed up stuff, like ... there's an 8 year old boy who constantly threatens/tries to kill his mother.
But it was really good! Between naps, I barely put it down!
So anyway, hopefully I stay on-the-mend and am back to my usual self soon.
OH YEAH! I forgot the point of the title.
On Saturday when I got home I had a look down my own throat, thanks to a mirror and a torch, and I don't know what J was on about, but they were not 'a bit red'.
So I got him to look again, and he said it kind of looked like I was growing teeth halfway down my throat.
I asked what he was looking at before then, and he thought your tonsils were 'the dangly bit'.
Hence, 'J, that's your *uvula*'
I apologise for my crappy story telling abilities.