Slacking once more...

I'm busy procrastinating, and it can't go on much longer. I have things I need to be making and things I should be doing, but thought I best catch up here a bit as well.

I'm still here, still cheesed off, and stuck with a headache that I've had since the day before yesterday. It's probably stress, but I'll get over it with the help of Nurofen, cups of tea and yesterday I had an afternoon nap, which may be repeated today. If I get the time... I'll procrastinate about the nap later.

Yesterday morning I was up bright and early (half past seven in the morning) after a pretty piss-poor night's sleep, for obvious reasons. I was heading into Salisbury as the foot for my sewing machine which I ordered was ready for collection. I took my neighbour's daughter with me for some company, some education (hers) and to give her parents a bit of peace, as Auntie N was taking the middle one, leaving them with just the youngest. I was also meeting up with N to measure a little J for his sailor suit to wear at mummy and daddy's wedding in a couple of weeks...

Oh hell... I don't have much time to make it, but Easter weekend is coming up, so that's 4 days in which to slog my guts out making it... Unless I get my finger out today. It won't take long. Well, the top and trousers won't. The overcoat will be a bit more time with my...

Dun dun DUUUUHHHHH (dramatic music here)

... NEW Overlocker Sewing Machine!

Yup, I went to pick up an £8 foot for my sewing machine and spent another £10 puting a deposit on a new overlocker, which I will be picking up next Saturday and paying the remaining £289 for. One that was £100 less than it's supposed to be. Cool huh? (for real coolness, all you dollar-types out there multiply each of the numbers by two to get an idea of how much I just spent and how much I saved...) OK, not really interesting for all you non-sewing types out there, but the best thing since sliced bread as far as I'm concerned. It's going to save me ages of time and do really neat trimmed, overlocked and rolled hems, vital for those fiddly fabrics that have a habit of fraying as you cut them, never mind pinning and sewing them.

Anyway, Other than the headache, lack of sleep and procrastinating, I'm now waiting for himself to read the previous entry. I'm actually in two minds whether to delete it before he can catch sight of it or not, but if I remove it, he's never going to know how peeved I was right at that point. Or how depressed I am really.

I can be really calm, happy and jovial sometimes. I can be light and airy in my approach to life when I'm dealing with other people. When I'm stuck on my own, it's a different matter though. I'm OK when I'm doing stuff like my sewing. I have to concentrate on what I'm doing and forget all the other niggles. It's a good way to block out stuff, but I really need things to make in order to make it worth my while sitting at my machine when I need to get away from things for a while.

Other times, when I'm angry or upset, when something has happened to drop me into that pit of self-loathing and self-doubt, I withdraw from most things. I'll sit and watch shite on the telly, or I end up blogging, which probably worries people a bit, especially on my really black moments.

Yes, I do sometimes feel like a nothing, like there is nothing really there to validate my life. Sometimes I wish that I could just die, although I'd like not to be dead afterwards, thanks. It's a very odd situation. I'd like to be dead, to be lying in my coffin, to be gone, but to know what's going on because I'm not really dead-dead, just no longer alive in the life I am in. There's no serious thought of suicide, for the simple reason I'm scared of death. Petrified. Totally. I don't want to find out that perhaps there is nothing afterwards, although I do sometimes wonder if people who die really know there has been an ending somewhere or if it's just like going to sleep without waking up.

I have odd thoughts: I watch trains going past and wonder what it would be like to just jump in front of one, what it would feel like, how long it would take for consciousness to fade after life has technically left the building, so to speak. I'd never do it though for one simple reason: I know that brains survive for up to 4 minutes without oxygen (sometimes longer). Can you imagine lying there knowing you are dead and that nothing can be done to make you alive again? How long would those 4 minutes really take? Would they go past in the flash of your life, or would they be glacial in their slowness, accentuating every agony of the dying process? Not my idea of a laugh...

My mum says suicide is stupid, because you don't get to find out what happens next, and how the story ends. I think she's right and I think that's where I get my odd view of things from. If I did something really stupid, what would I be missing out on in the remaining years I should have been living? I've done a lot and been a few places, and there's more out there to be discovered. I'd like to be a someone in the world, with my little business being a name people would associate with beautiful christening gowns and delightful baby clothes. I'd like to travel and visit people. I'd like to carry on with my life, if it's all the same to my darkest thoughts, although it would be nice to have a little happiness and tranquility within myself.

I have to pull myself up by the boot straps every so often. I have to get over the little things and work out what happens next. I have to do so many things for myself. It would be nice to have a little support now and again, but patience is the virtue that I seem to be lacking in...

I wonder sometimes if any of this really makes a difference to me as a person, whether blogging really helps or whether it just ensures that some of my deepest recesses get picked over by others, dissected and examined. I know some worry with some of the things I write, and that's not the intention, so I apologise profusely to those people. I just write what I think. Actions are not necessarily going to follow, unless of course it's things like sewing and general stuff like that. Although procrastinating about those too means things get left...

Well, I think that's enough for today. Things at home are quiet. Texting between me and himself is occurring, although it's silly stuff and nothing serious that should be talked about, but at least it's communication. I even got cuddled in bed last night, although he was asleep. I don't mind. It was nice to be snuggled into for a change and has probably helped me inside somewhere.

I need to stop procrastinating and go make a sailor suit. I'll let you know how it goes...

Back to square one.

I thought things were improving. How wrong was I? Nothing has changed here.

Himself is so wrapped up in being someone else's hero that I'm sat here like a lemon again, watching him sit and text, knowing that he's going to do some DIY for someone else when I can't even get the bath cleaned out after he's been painting and got paint everywhere (and it's taken him about 5 months to get two coats of paint on a wall). He's going to do electrics, rewiring, when I can't even get a room cleared out to work in. He complains that my sewing stuff is all over the living room. If I had a work room, I wouldn't have that mess, would I?

Yep, I could clear it out myself, but god help me if I touched his stuff.

I now have to go into the junk room and clear it out anyway. I got so pissed off at being the "other woman" in his life that I took my wedding ring off and threw it up the stairs. His response was to chuck it in the junk room. He hasn't worn his in months. Apparently he has something come up on his finger when he wears it. This is the first I've heard of it. It's never been mentioned before now. Why should it? I mean, it's not like I really believe that anyway. I'm more of the view that he's not interested in looking like a married man. He's more interested in his "friends" and what they think of him and how badly I treat him. According to him anyway.

His latest: I have to go back to the hospital next month to find out what happens next with my gynae stuff. I was told tonight that I had demanded to be taken there by him. He previously said he would like to speak to my doctor/specialist/whatever, so I told him when the appointment was and asked if he would take me there and come and speak to them. He agreed, since it's what he wanted, right? Wrong.

I have demanded that he take me there. I have threatened him with unspeakable wrath should he fail...

I asked if he would take me there and if he would come and speak to the doctor.

Which one do you think really happened?

As of this moment, I am going on my own. I shall take the train to Winchester and get to the hospital on my own. I shall speak to the doctors on my own. I shall make the decisions that may need made on my own. If further treatment or tests become necessary, I shall get to the hospital on my own. I will get home on my own. I will not even ask him to visit and will reccomend that he stays away, just in case he gets the sudden urge to claim that I forced him to drive 20 minutes down the road to fetch me after an operation, or to visit me if I have to stay in for a few days. My life shouldn't be of any concern to him at all in case I say something out of place or ask for something unreasonable, like perhaps a husband.

I am now officially a single person trapped in a marriage that he's not interested in. He's more interested in having someone who is a doormat. Someone who doesn't speak, doesn't have a single original thought or controversial view. Someone who will cook, clean, wash, wash up, tidy and not demand things like partnership, equality, conversation, someone to share things with, to talk to, to share problems with.

Oh no, he's so happy to help other people out. He's happy to be there for them when they have problems. He's happy to rush off to help with their stuff. He's happy to do anything anyone else asks of him. I wouldn't care if I got the same treatment. I want something done? That's right, I have to either do it myself or ask my neighbour to do it for me.

A quote from his blog: "People need people to talk to sometimes and they say a problem shared helps... But finding the right people to talk to is the trick. Am I the right person to talk to? In some cases I might be, in others I will not be. Some people will find their own way of dealing with things, whether we think it as the right thing or wrong is not ours to judge. What I think is important is being there for them if they need to talk." The question is who I'm supposed to talk to, since this seemingly caring individual whith these views on talking, problem sharing and all that guff doesn't talk to me on anything that could be considered as important or a problem that I might want to share and have another view on things.

Another quote from his blog, this time from a reply that he got... "D told me of your offer of "help" :-)". Anyone else here finding that something to make you choke on your cocoa? "Help". What's that supposed to mean? Call me paranoid, but that just makes my hackles rise.

I'm sick of this. I live in the dark. He's passworded his computer (I know this because I saw him sign in to it when he turned it on one day. I have NOT been spying on him and trying to get into his stuff) so that I definitely can't get onto it when he's not around. Not that I really want to these days. What would I find on there if I did? Something to make me want to crawl into a black hole and never come out? My guess is that it's probably closer to the truth than he's willing to let on.

Why the hell am I writing all this stuff anyway? I know the outcome... SHE will say I'm a big old meany-mean-pants and that I'm saying SHE isn't allowed to talk to HER FRIEND. I don't give a rats ass if she talks to her friend, although I'd appreciate it a lot more if her darling friend was actually taking as much care and paying as much attention to me. SHE will then probably mail him again saying I'm horrid and that she can't talk to him again. He will then stomp out the house in a foul mood again saying I don't want him to have friends or to talk to anyone. I will have to capitualte AGAIN and be back at the beginning once more.

If you want him so badly, you take him and just let's get it over with, shall we? This isn't doing my health any favours whatsoever, and I get called names for being depressed because my life is a big pile of shit. Right now, I don't care about you. I don't give a damn: you obviously care so little about me so why should I have any kindness, compassion or sympathy for you?

If you don't want him, how about you do me a huge favour and tell him where he should be directing his attention, who he should be talking to and who he should be listening to. If you care even one jot about what happens, try and see things from my side just for once. See past his crap that he spouts about being a caring shoulder, a sympathetic ear and wonder what it's like living like I do: I see a cold shoulder, an unfeeling, uncaring individual who is more concerned about how other people see him than how he treats his home life and someone who doesn't bother to listen unless I'm shouting at stupid hours of the day because it's the only time I get a reaction.

I don't know why I bother any more. I had my hair done. I had it cut and coloured to tone down the colour I put in when bored. It looks really nice... But I may as well have shaved it all off for all he cares or has commented. I think I got a "It doesn't look much different" out of him and then a "yeah" when I showed him it again in the light and told him "it's a lot lighter". I joined a slimming club, and to be honest, I'll more than likely be cooking for myself and eating salads and stuff while he's ordering pizza or troughing down in an Indian takeaway, burgers, sausages and other things like that. That's if he can be bothered to cook for himself, or whether I'll be the one making a big fry-up for him and a salad and jacket potato for me.

I don't know what I want any more. I'm not even sure I could show you who the real me is now. Me now is unhappy. I'm tired. I just want to be a someone to somebody, and I can't see that being the case. I've tried all sorts of things... I tried lavishing attention and got none in return. I tried ignoring him, and got the same reaction. I tried doing houseowrk and making the place nice. He walks through the house as if he has his eyes shut until he gets to his computer. I spend less time on my computer, because he said I was spending too long on it, so now I sit alone on the sofa watching television in the evenings while he sits on his computer.

Ah well, I'm sure I'll be in for another round of him stomping off when he reads this. I think I'm past caring though. He can stomp all he likes. I've had my say and I'm tired of having my say when no one else is speaking then getting slated for it. I'm tired of being the bad person.

Maybe he's right though. Maybe I'm just not worth it. If anyone wants me, I'll be on my own somewhere, talking to no one. Let's face it here... When it gets to the point where even your own husband doesn't want you, what are you really left with? Nothing.

I am nothing. Ignore me.

Life... It moves on

I'm a terrible blogger. I can't keep a diary. I can hardly even keep correspondence going unless it's via e-mail to my sister. I phone my parents on a weekly basis and spend a couple of hours on the phone to mum (ten minutes to dad if he answers... we never seem to talk much, but we don't seem to need to).

What to tell...

My kitchen is painted (and papered first to get rid of the nasty bumps and holes) and is looking a hundred times better. Shelving comes next, and then it's about done. Just a few tiles to spruce it up a little on the splashbacks and it's a complete kitchen (minus flooring, but I'll work on that one).

I've started making a sailor suit for a little boy who will be going to his mummy and daddy's wedding in the middle of next month. I have to measure him soon so I can make the little whitefront shirt and blue trousers. The Jacket is coming along, although working out a pattern for the square collar has been a bit of a pig... Must get buttons...

As for me... Well, I'm much the same, although around a lot less than I used to be. Evenings are spent with B&D two doors up for the most part. We watch shite on the telly or play games on the wii. It helps me not be so alone when himself is working nights/lates/shifts that mean he's not home much, or when he is home, asleep because he has to be up at 0430 the next day.

I have another appointment with the gynae people at the hospital on the 18th April. I'm not looking forward to it. Himself has said he will come with me so he can tell them what's been going on, because I find it hard sometimes to know what to say, or even to see what's really going on. He sees it all, and finds it hard to have to deal with it. I can't blame him really. It's hard enough being on this side of things without having to be on the outside, looking in and not being able to do a damn thing about it. I just want to know what they can do to fix it. The coil failed. Miserably. I don't know what the next step is, and I just hope someone will have some answers when we go to see them.

I feel like a medical mystery. Every time I have something wrong, I have the wrong symptoms. My hugely overactive thyroid saw me put on weight, not lose it like you're supposed to. I now have an underactive thyroid which is controlled with meds, so it does nothing, although while I wasn't being medicated for it, I lost a bit of weight instead of puting it on. My PCOS should have seen me have little or nothing in the way of periods, not the 3 or 4 month long epic ones I've had. I'm supposed to have more hair growth, particularly on my face, but I don't have that either. The fibroid should be doing something that it's not. That's probably why the PCOS and the fibroid weren't picked up till I had internal ultrasounds just recently. No one could tell I had them.

I just want answers and solutions, not people scratching their heads and saying "more tests". I've had so many needles shoved in my arm of late it's getting rediculous. I have permanent pock-marks in the crook of my right elbow where I've had so many blood tests. No one seems to know what to do with me, and in the meantime, I'm stuck in the middle wondering where my life went. I'm supposed to go get a smear test done as well at some point. I'm wondering whether my making an appointment for that will start the period up again, because it normally does. They won't do a smear if you're "on", so my last one was too long ago now.

I don't know yet if I've given up on the idea of having kids, although right now, it seems like everything that I have to go near a hospital for turns my life to hell. Is it worth it in the long run? How many times would I have to hear the words "No, sorry, not this time" if I went for the IVF? I seem to know my body better than the doctors at this point, because I have a feeling it would be encouraged (if I managed to fill their criteria) where everything else they have done has meant more time off work than I really needed for the procedure and nothing doing on the other end of it. Sure, I got rid of Eric, my useless lump on my thyroid, but it doesn't seem to have solved any of the medical problems I've had. They're all still there, the old symptoms, like sore feet and lethargy, weight gain and feeling thoroughly drained half the time.

Himself and I are improving, or at least it seems that way. We still don't talk nearly enough, and never seem to get into discussing serious stuff. It's all just flannel, bits about housework, decorating, the cats, the fish... Nothing serious.

There's been a couple of bright spots in there though... Work have just shifted me onto the payroll side of things, which I prefer and is making me more enthusiastic about my work. I've also just booked a week off work as holiday to go up to Scotland (back home) to the Jazz festival with my friend T, who is 70 and loves Jazz. We're off to the Jazz festival, staying with my parents, eating good home-cooked food, drinking too much (mostly courtesy of my dad I suspect) and staying out late listening to the music T used to go listen to in the big Jazz clubs in London.

That's something to look forward to. I best go see if I can book some tickets now...

Interesting...

The Part of You That No One Sees

You are balanced, peaceful, and sincere.You're the type of person who goes along to get along.And you're definitely afraid of rocking the boat. Underneath it all, you fear your world falling apart.You'll put up with a situation that you don't like in fear of changing it.Disruptive and forceful people intimidate you - and sometimes exploit you.

What's" the Part of You That No One Sees?