Unwell

Well, the much anticipated bout of dysentry I've been expecting appears to have finally hit.  It began last night with 'the cold sweats' and the stomach cramps.  I will spare you the detail.   I will say that this morning's ride into work was quite dicey with a couple of very close calls.  My fellow commuters have no idea how lucky they are or how near I came to 'treating' the carriage to an organic version of a Jackson Pollock   Nonetheless, made it I did, to work and promptly spent most of the morning in and out of the loo until I could stand it no longer.  So by 2:50 I had to leave.  The return journey was even more tricky, the virus having taken a vice-like grip, I could barely stand.  In fact I drew quite a few odd stares - none of concern, such is life in a paranoid city.  
It was nothing short of a late Christmas miracle that I made it to the bathroom at home (it was the longest climb ever up four flights) with nano seconds to spare and have pretty much camped out there since.

I only hope the resulting loss of a few stubborn kilos is the ultimate reward - though from the look of my distended stomach and knowing my luck it will be more a case of memento stretch marks. 

Onto a less unsavoury and more wistful subject, I saw a foxy loxy coming home the other night with The Lish.  He had been cowering in the doorway to the apartment building but darted out the moment it sensed our approach. Where it went we shall never know for it seemed to disappear.

I have long believed in animal symbolism, so I was at once pleased and on my guard on seeing this creature.  They are quite common in London, I don't know why or where the heck they live when they are not cowering in doorways - but I do know the fox, if you believe in this sort of thing, or I should say a sighting of one,  is supposed to serve as a reminder to feed the emotional needs of the child in you; to be playful and laugh at yourself as well as to watch out for tricky tricksters around you.

Given the last few weeks of mental torment (stress related) of one description or another, it is a timely and much appreciated reminder.
 
And now I must excuse my self as another timely reminder - this one not so appreciated and absolutely out of my control, twitches.

Pass the nappy rash cream.

Live to tell the tale

I don't want to jinx this, but I think I'm past the worst of what I can only call the recent mini nervous  'breakdown'.  I've always wondered what a breakdown feels like - a morbid curiosity I know but it's a bit like wondering what would happen if I stepped into the path of an oncoming train. That's the kind of curiosity that killed the cat and I don't think I'm ready to die.  But I do now understand how paralysing it can be.

The culmination of 3 years of bad planning and a negative mindset.  After the real drama of a mental breakdown which saw me turning to pills and being unable to interact with the most important person in my life - my Lish, I realise that I can't afford to make those mistakes again especially since I am far from out of the woods nor is the future any more secure than before.  In fact if anything, I'm in for a little bit more of a rough ride while I tame the pressures of work, flame the fun of motherhood and accept the reality of my domestic situation - which isn't ideal and doesn't look to abide any time soon.

Now, I could let negativity and moroseness rob me of my 40s (not to mention my looks and my sense of fun) or I can accept that this too shall pass and in the meantime, I am to live each day as it comes, appreciate the roof over my head, know that I'm not missing out on anything and ensure that I continue to be kind to myself, and others.

In doing that I've already realised that it's ok to take time out from being mum (in a positive way).  Today for instance I didn't go out with The Lish and her dad as I would normally do, because for the first time in ages I felt like staying in for reasons other than excruciating head or body aches.  Tomorrow for example I'm taking The Lish on a play date.  See it all balances out.  Instead of dreading and fearing separation from The Lish when she goes to Canada to visit her aunt, I'm off to do Yoga in the Canary Islands.  And I don't feel bad. I feel good.  It's also good practice for the future afterall the time will eventually come when I must be alone again.  Better learn the skills to cope now than at a time when you're too conditioned to know how to change.
 
You know, I still haven't worked out what the last few years of dead ends means.  Why Canada didn't work out? Why I had to break my foot on the eve of graduating Yoga school and why work has ended up being so incredibly stressful.  I can only imagine that one day it will all make sense .

I have not given up on my dreams, I am just waiting for that window of opportunity to come again.

Anyway, they say you need to get worse before you get better...well, to my earlier point (and in the hope I'm not in fact inviting a relapse) I do feel better today and strangely liberated by the whole unforgiving experience because I know now that everything (the good and the bad)eventually passes.  

Perhaps it's the blossoms on the trees, the fact that January is over,that I've made some social plans or that I have a holiday booked.  Perhaps it just that I'm no longer in any pain but hey who gives a monkeys - I'm doing good.  And that is a big deal.

I have that funny feeling again that I'm on the brink of a new beginning.  This time I'm gonna plan it right.  I also come prepared.  Giddy up.

Time out

After a long but positive meeting this morning at a client's offices, I parted ways with the head of department where I work who was on his way home to 'lock down' and get a report written and headed back to the underground to make my way into the office.  Filled with dread at the thought of having to plough through at least a hundred e-mails before I could even start on the 'to do' list, I could feel my blood pressure rise with every step.  But then, I stopped.  Looking at the big clock in the middle of the station, (I'd left my wristwatch in the bathroom) I asked myself...what's the hurry?  I need to eat. 

I bought a burger with chips and an orange juice - healthy no? and sat down to eat.  I didn't read, I didn't think, I just ate and looked at people coming and going.  It was nice. 

Then with a deep breath I stepped into the vortex, thankful that I am but one day away from the weekend.  I can't really tell you what else happened today - one task after another.  I will tell you that I got away at a reasonably decent hour and that I got home in time to see The Lish a little bit before beddy byes.  Small treats.  So you see taking time out for 20 minutes to just 'be' is the only thing that stands out about today (apart from my Lish's cheeky face beaming at me from the bath suds). 

I plan on doing more of that.

I'm also in less pain - the headaches have gone and while I'm still working on the pain in my right shoulder and arm (caused by overcompensating the left hand's mouse activity, that, plus a shit load of stress), I've made it a couple of days without pain killers.  This is progress.

As for the rest, I'm just taking it one day at a time.

It's not a tumour

When I took this job in PR, I did not set out to 'have it all' and I was hoping that I would be able to strike such a balance whereby any guilt felt around having gone back to work fulltime would be balanced out by careful planning and cunning delegation of family and household chores at the weekend.  Of course, the reality is much much messier in the way afterbirth is messy.  But like afterbirth, it's also necessary. I suppose every difficult transition is going to hurt (and gross you out) a little bit - well a lot actually.  It hurts so much I've had a permanent headache since January 4th but I've figured out one thing at least:  It's not a tumour.

On a less comforting note, I have realised that this seemingly permanent migraine (with worrying accompanying pain down the left side of my body) is very much stress-related and has so far required a medicine cabinet full of pills and potions to tame.  Nice as a handful of panadol and codeine feels, the answer to stress will not be found in the medicine cabinet.  Instead, I think it's a question of discipline, honesty and COJONES to do what you have to do to get through.  For me the solution came in the form of two things - a teeny tiny nervous breakdown this weekend and calling a spade a MOFOING spade.

So if people are asking too much of you, if someone isn't pulling their weight, if a child is just being lazy, trying to keep calm and carry on like it's nothing but a thing is dumb.  Also, it won't work.  This is the shortest route to an early grave and ain't no-one gonna thank you for dying on them before they are ready.  I should know.

So here is what I've realised.  Keep calm by all means, I mean there is no need to spaz out about anything really but DO NOT CARRY ON.  No sir.  So today, after some serious Ohmming into the fresh sunshine whilst out with The Lish at the Princess Diana Memorial Park I resolved to do a couple of things:  Ask for help where I need it (both at work and at home) and book a freaking holiday.  No apologies.  And accept that right now: It is what it is, my dear friends.  No apologies. None.

So I'm off to Fuerteventura in the Canary Islands for a Yoga/meditation retreat in April.  Alone.  Well not alone there will be others there but I mean, 'sans famille'.  The Lish meanwhile will be going to Canada with her father to visit her auntie who will have recently had a baby.   I don't do Canada in April.

This is healthy. For everyone involved. I'll make it up to The Lish in the summer.

But for now, I just need to make it up to me.

All good things come to an end

..and sometimes it's only when they do, that you realise they were good things in the first place.  I could apply this to many areas of my life right now but I think it's a bit early in the week for deep thinking.  No, instead I will tell you that 'A', the kitchen waving buddy who made an indecent proposal over a ham and cheese croissant just before Christmas - him - well, he's moving out of his flat to another part of London, so the days of waving at me (or The Silverback) from behind the kitchen sink, as he rinses his breakfast dishes (with nothing but a towel to protect his honour) are over.  I wonder who will move in next? 

I think he's feeling quite nostalgic because the guitar came out last night.  Definitely original material he was singing - I say singing - I thought someone had gone into labour - but no, it was only A lamenting his last days in the mansion block.

While I've come to love living here - and if there were more storage and the landlord knocked a couple hundred thousand off the asking price, I'd be pushing to buy it, we don't plan on staying long term either.  Funnily enough we've been looking at flats in the same area as 'A' - not by design I hasten to add but by sheer insane chance.  Wouldn't it be absolutely freaking hilarious (erm, maybe) to end up neighbours again.

I have to say though in all my years of living in flats and converted houses in London, I've been very lucky with neighbours.  I mean, for starters there's A - how many of you can say you've been propositioned by a virtual stranger eh? and one that turned out to be so nice... if totally inappropriate.

Before A, there was O.  Before Maida Valle, there was Queens Park (this was before there was Canada) and in Queens Park there was a boy living in the flat below us who is quite simply THE best looking man I've ever seen in real life.  Ask The Silverback - I think the Silverback fell in love with him before I did.  This man is not a man but a god:  Six foot tall, body like an Adonis (think Ryan Phillipe, Matthew McConaughey or Brad Pitt in Fight Club fit) and a face like an angel sent from A list heaven.  Seriously, he is a cross between Jude Law and Jesus H. Christ.  A complete player though.  I mean you would be if you looked like him.  He is the sort of man of whom it can be said, can truly have his pick of the women. And he does, daily.

The Silverback and I had to make do with gazing into his baby blues as he regailed us with shagadelic tales of  conquest.  We weren't listening of course - even the Dalai Lama would lose his trail of thought if O were to walk in on one of his meditations.  One minute he'd be silently chanting his mantra and the next he be catatonic in need of an ice cold bath. 

I've never had a bad neighbour now that I think about it.  Never.  Not really.  I've had neighbours I've never spoken to but that's not a bad thing nor did it make them bad.  I can remember my very first neighbour in London, a West Indian family who threw the very best parties and had a quality record collection too.  This was when I still lived with my mum.  After that I lived next to an Australian hippy who would exercise naked in the back garden with a Samurai sword.  I kid you not.  I was always wary in the mornings of looking out the bedroom window, unsure as to what might be there to greet my tired eyes.

However, I had him round for dinner one day because while he was clearly bonkers, he was also fun and different.  He turned up, fully dressed thankfully and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get him onto the subject of these naked shenanigans.  The very next day, it was pouring rain so I thought I'd be ok to go right ahead and open the curtains without fear of willies or buttocks jerking around at close proximity only to find Mike (for that was this exotic man's name) up to his old tricks but this time he'd roped his new male flatmate into exercising naked with him too.  Before I could dive for cover, they'd caught my eye and were motioning for me to join them.

It's safe to say it was one of those unforgettable moments in life where I literally didn't know whether to shit or go blind.

So actually, all things said and done 'A' isn't bad at all and we shall miss him.

This is what Friday afternoon is all about

I'm going to talk about something other than work in this post.  What an utter bore I've been.  Today I looked back at the statue of Eros as I emerged from the entrails of London's underground system at Pickledwilly on my way to work - to remind myself that life is for living and loving.  I even took the piss a little today and disappeared a whole 40 minutes for lunch.   I took off to a newly discovered vegan restaurant in Berwick Street, a longtime teenage haunt  (Berwick Street) that has not changed much in16 years ...cept for the arrival of this restaurant and the fit cobbler.  It's called Beetroot.  I love the earthiness of the place.  It's like what I imagine a 60s canteen to have looked like. The are no sharp edges.  The seats are semi circle benches.  The tables or more like squiggly breakfast bars with the difference being they are at a seated level.  The literature is all about good news on recycled paper.  I found out about some chanting evenings here.  It's a serendipitous place. 

On the way back to the orifice, I stopped outside the record and tape exchange store where I once bought a New York Dolls album in 1989 and looked at this Dinosaur Junior LP:
- that's vinyl for any young'ns reading.  I would have bought it too if only for the album cover but I don't own a turntable anymore and I just couldn't live with an album in the house that I was unable to play.  Hmmnnn, I think it might be time to get a little turntable - even if it's like one of those 60s teeny bopper contraptions out of the bedroom scene in Grease.  I have two boxes of albums in storage, any one of which would bring tears of joy to my eyes to listen to again.

I rummaged around a hippy type shop and saw a badge which made me laugh out loud - it said: "I can't come into work today, so fuck off."
But back to work I had to go.  It wasn't all bad, though I am glad another week is done.

I left on time today and got home earlier than I think I've ever managed.  With The Silverback picking up The Lish, I really had the house to myself for a little while.  I could have done anything.  Anything at all.  Chant, do yoga,  lounge.  And you know what I did?  I fidgetted, anxious to hear the lock turn and the family tumble into my weekend.  It's the weirdest thing.  Between the hassle of work and parenting you'd think I'd cherish half an hour of 'my' time...go figure.

I heard them before I saw them - the tinkle of The Lish's voice travelling up the stairwell like birdsong on a Spring morning.  I couldn't wait to see her.  And that is another nice side effect of having a full time job -it has to be said.  I miss the family.  I look forward to spending time together.

Course, it took less than half an hour for the effect to wear off and now I wish to be left alone with this image:


  Good Night.

The week where I learn about ebbs and flows

Week two of 2011 has been no less hectic than last week, workwise (it may even have been more) so looks like I'm going through an ebb of the proverbial 'ebb & flow' of life (or flow if you're a workaholic - which I most definitely am not).  I'm afraid blogging is currently a little treat I squeeze out when I'm not comatose on the nearest level surface - utterly exhausted by the pace of life at the moment.  But if there is one thing I have learned over the years, it is just how adaptable humans can be when they put their minds to it or have no other choice or better still when they are resigned to a situation.  That's me:  Resigned and happy.  Who knew being utterly frantic could fill in so many emotional voids!!!

I am learning the art of delegation in a hurry and The Silverback gave me some excellent advice about the secret to sanity at work when a job entails being 3 people in one.  Actually, newsflash - my situation is not unique which gives me some comfort.  Less easy is handling those wankers and fucksticks I refer to last week.  Nevertheless, they pay the bills - so it's a case of finding peace of mind and accepting that with the career comes the stress, a notion that eluded me in Canada - possibly why I met with such a sticky end?  I'm gonna give myself the benefit of the doubt there because nothing was going to work as I hadn't reached the enlightened state of resignation and happiness.  It was a pill I wouldn't swallow.  I wasn't ready to accept that life (and finding peace of mind) is about acknowledging, accepting and going with the flow. 

Mick Jagger says it best: "You can't always get what you want...."

....But if you try, try, try, you might just find, you get what you need.

I think I've finally put the nut in the nut cracker - won't be long before I crack it.   Better late than never right?

And not a moment too soon. With The Lish now well on her way to making memories with people who's names she'll be typing into Google and Facebook searches when she's older, I need to embrace my own unknown - a.k.a 'the next phase' of life.  And I want to make it count. For me and for those who I care about.

No pressure then.

Still, let's get next week out of the way first eh? Look after today and tomorrow will look after itself, as they say.

In this sense, the universe always provides - you can put money on it.