When I began this blog, I had high expectations of upbeat stories of adventures I had been on or funny anecdotes to tell. The reality is, the whole past year has basically been one fat slob fest for me. I’m starting to liken myself to a potato.
I’m now what one would call “between jobs” …again. I decided that the travel industry just wasn’t quite doing it for me anymore. The vibe got me turning that frown upside down so I began my favourite hobby of job searching. Does anybody else have a similar hobby? I also enjoy logging on to Rightmove and giving myself a pretend budget of £500k to buy a posh house. Sometimes I’ll even go to London to ‘rent’ extortionately expensive apartments no bigger than my maternity pants. This isn’t even Lockdown induced behaviour by the way.
My newest employment within an Electric and Plumbers company local to me has the hours any mum could only dream of. Every week the SAME three shifts. Tues, Weds, Thurs.. from 9am-3pm. A dream literally made to fit around the school run in which yes, my daughter will become a part of again as I unashamedly got on the phone to them as soon as I got offered the job. I’ve had numerous jobs but this felt a step in the right direction. I can now work and run my university course alongside on a Monday and Friday giving me the whole weekend to nag, cry and moan to my other half to my heart’s content.
The problem I’m currently having is that I’ve got to actually get off my arse? No, really its currently a genuine problem. I’ve fallen victim to lazy parenting, lazy tidying, cooking and cleaning and now I can rarely be arsed to even fart. I used to punish myself for sitting and relaxing, it never felt right and now I can’t get enough! I’ve watched all these programmes basically non stop for the last three weeks. All of which I HIGHLY recommend.
The Office (UK)
RuPaul’s drag race ALL 160 episodes of.
ITV’s “The Bay”
the Crown. (Man, that’s long)
I’ve also fully immersed myself into podcasts whilst cleaning (well, attempting to) but one I must mention is ‘Morbid’ which basically is quite self explanatory and I would recommend if you enjoy light hearted true crime and Ghost stories. The girls who do this podcast have me actually LOLLING out loud.
I do wonder when all this madness will end but I wonder more if we will suddenly miss the isolation lifestyle?
FINAL THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Today, I was putting some washing away and realized that I no longer have a t-shirt drawer? I have two pyjama and “loungewear” drawers? I honestly can’t remember the day that this happened but it felt like a pinnacle moment of my life. Another pinnacle was that I IRONED, yes IRONED three sets of flannel pyjamas yesterday? Please judge because I sure am.
I’ll start by congratulating us all to getting beyond 2020. Things can only go up from here right?! The year we just left behind can literally go and take its head for a shit. We’ve lost loved ones, jobs, money and our sanity but we are all still here to fight another day..and another lockdown. Cheers again Bozza.
I’m interested to hear how you spent your New years eve ? Myself and my partner decided we were going to throw it right back to the noughties and get high because well, ya know, 2020… unfortunately, getting high on a small about of cannabis is absolutely NOT the same now as it was 10 plus years ago. We both stood outside at 12oclock puffing away on the saddest looking excuse of a Billy bifta you ever did see, seeing the new year in with a glazy eyed clink of our pop bottles only to fall asleep drooling on the sofa. Not quite how I imagined it but nevermind.
The one thing I do feel I can look back and reflect on is the time I spent in my own head during 2020. Through all the shit the year threw at us all I honestly feel ive “found” myself (whatever that means) I know what I want now and the things I like and don’t like. I took abit of time out to get to know me! There were, of course a few wobbles on the way to this magical light bulb moment. One funny realisation is that I actually hate working with the general public which is hilarious as that is literally all I bang on about on my CV. Making out I love talking to customers and making them happy… I actually don’t. I love to help people but I dont think its by selling them a holiday to the Canaries. I want to actually HELP people. People who feel lost? People who need abit of guidance. People like me?
I’m aiming high guys. I’ve gone all in and signed up to a Open University course studying Psychology. The course is 4 years long which is usually on average two employment lengths for me so its kinda a big deal but im determined! Something feels right about this path, something I’ve never quite felt before? I’m 32 years old and I may finally know what I want to do in life!
So im talking all the talk but will I walk the walk? Well thats the age old question of somebody with impulsive tendencies. This could be one of the many many MANY things I’ve obsessed over in the past, invested all my thought into and spent time and money organising.. only for it to vaporise into thin air one day when I get “bored”
I’m not sure this time though ya know, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.
Wishing you all a Happy, prosperous and safe New year.
A banana skin just got a thrashing within an inch of its life as it landed in the recycling bin. “Stupid fucking banana skin” I mumble under my breath as I go to pick it up and launch in the correct bin (after slapping it against the wall a couple of times first). All of a sudden, I’m alerted to the fact that my period is well on the way and it was time to prepare.
From a young age even pre childbirth, I’ve always struggled with my periods. I remember suffering from Aura type migraines and excruciating abdominal pain when I was at secondary school leading me to miss out on fun social activities like smoking bongs and shoplifting keyrings and scrunchies from Claire’s accessories. Bummer. I cursed myself and thought there was something wrong with me for being that friend who kept bailing all the time. none of my friends had these issues so Why me?
More on “Why me” in my next post.
I’m 101percent sure I am a sufferer of PMDD (Premenstrual dysphoric disorder) however when I once mentioned this to a nurse at my local health clinic she looked at me like I’d got two tits on my head. See below for symptoms.
They all seem pretty usual for anybody to experience before a period don’t they, except all are felt in the most extreme ways. The hot flashes are what led me to start looking for a second opinion (well, that was before corona took hold)
I can lose my shit over the tiniest things ranging from yellow fruits not landing in the bin properly to complete overreaction towards my other half asking me if I happen to know where his work clothes are. “AM I JUST A SLAVE TO YOU IN THIS HOUSE YOU FAT BASTARD?!” followed by the “escape” suitcase being brought down (again) from on top of the wardrobe and me throwing my things in angrily with no real plan of action of where I’m going or what the hell I’m doing really.
Originally I always put these mood swings down to the personality disorder but then I began tracking my periods using the “FLO” app (highly recommend) and quickly realised that the extreme rage and hot flashes tend to be viler the week before I’m on. They have been that extreme in the past that I’ve had to go and stay in a nearby hotel for a couple of nights for my poor partner and daughters verbal safety. Its bad guys.
It’s sad to me that it is not as widely recognised by health care professionals as it should be. The nurse I saw that said that I must mean PMS as she’d not heard of PMDD before. BIG sigh and eye-roll.
Even without any other mental health issues, PMDD alone can cause severe distress to yourself and others around you. My closest run-ins with attempted suicide have been around the time I was due on and this is a problem. It is so important to SPEAK UP if you feel like your experiencing something more than just one would expect from PMS. If you wake up crying in the middle of the night wanting to do yourself in but have no idea why then somethings not right huns.
Speak up. Get a second opinion and follow my journey getting the correct diagnosis because I know it is in there somewhere! jeez, being a woman is hard sometimes.
I’m trying to work out whether my newest obsession with wanting to become a cannabis smoking hippy is just a phase or the start of a mid-life crisis? Hear me out.
For the past year, whilst mostly being in a happy, stable place I have a little naughty voice in the back of my head who is bored out of her mind and getting little to no stimulation. We’ll call her Rita. Rita Rush.
Poor little Rita lives in my brain riding the wave of life quietly satisfied by my regular poor decision making and erratic or risky behaviour but I’ve really backhanded her down lately. Sensible money decisions, not wanting to run off from my whole family and start a new life with the random man that winked at me in his van and even refraining from putting my newest business idea of “mobile CAT groomers” to one side. (fuck I love cats)
I just feel like I want to get high. Not like smacked off my tits high or ruin my life high but high enough to relax and think a little bit more freely. You know the kind of high I mean right?
Back in my teenage years I probably gave myself a bit of brain damage from the number of bongs I’d puffed away on at such a young age. It all started when one of my more rowdy school friends asked me for a sleepover at hers and of course, being the attention-seeking, rebellious kid that I was, I had my bag packed before she even finished the sentence. Anyway, the long story short is that i puffed away on a buddha shaped bong in the family living room with my friend, her mum and brother like it was as normal as passing a Toblerone around. That was the start for me at the tender age of 13. I continued smoking weed until I was about 17 and haven’t touched anything since. I never did any other drugs other than the one time in a bar when I dropped an “E” but in hindsight, I’m voting it was an out of date smint as all it did was make me drool and fall over a lot.
I was around drugs a lot growing up but never tempted, which is quite a feat considering my personality traits. I can only imagine my self-control in this area was because I was mainly too pissed to feel any need to add on to it. But my teenage drinking is a whole other post. So Rita’s getting a little agitated, she needs some adrenaline-fuelled action and I can tell I’ve been keeping it from her too long.
So my question is.
Do I let her have a mini victory by getting a little pot to quieten Rita down (totally illegal in the UK by the way. BOOO) or do I ignore her in the hope she doesn’t make me regret it? This is possibly the longest space of time I’ve been without having some sort of dramatic meltdown crescendo after a slowly built-up shower of shit. The longest I’ve not had the suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe with my “escape clothes” in and also the longest I’ve not gambled for. Its almost as if Rita knows I’m doing well and she can’t handle it.
Somebody said to me the other day “Jaz, it must be quite difficult for you at the moment going through all of this with a bit of a mental brain” (Her words, not mine) well, thanks for the concern there hun but you would be mistaken. The biggest excuse I ever used to get out of something was usually by ignoring the whole situation, turning my phone on silent and pretending I didn’t get the message. All of a sudden I don’t need to do that because nobody is doing anything! Covid-19 seems to have taken away all the stresses of stressing over social outings. Now, Covid-19 can be the reason for not letting somebody come into your house when it is not as clean as you would like and the reason you can just say NO to any type of social gathering. It can also be a fantastic excuse to sit consuming chocolatey treats and ..well, yourself. As great as it is, the amount of occasions that friends and family have mentioned all meeting up once all of ‘this’ is over is alarming. I’m actually preparing myself for accidentally on purpose lobbing my phone in the canal so I don’t have to commit to such outings and socialisation.
Don’t get me wrong when I’m in the mood for it I am the life and soul! I’m like Pringles, once you pop you just can’t stop! Get me in a room of 10 or more and I’m a bloody jack-in-a-box. I irritate my partner because I can’t and won’t sit still. Does anybody need any help? do I need the toilet? What’s in that room over there? It is bloody exhausting.
I once went on a day trip to London with my friend and her newborn son. She was slightly apprehensive understandably about tackling the tube with a pushchair and how the day would go in general. I took complete control, we were on and off that central line like shit off a stick, we walked miles, we talked for miles! it really was a fantastic, busy, chaotic but brilliant day out… I then didn’t leave the house for two whole days. I was overwhelmed and emotional from all the stimulation of the day before like that of an overstimulated newborn really. I could barely even parent that day. This is quite a common scenario, and also why I turn down so many social invitations even if I want to go as I have to consider what I’m doing for the few days after in case the day of fun puts me out of service… like a woozy, mental hangover without any alcohol.
I do have a small group of friends who I seem to socialise more with as they understand my situation and laugh at me when I just HAVE to get home for 10 pm. They accept I don’t like to drink too much and just let me be me, however odd I am! I must say though, it took me a long time to get to this point with people as I’m naturally a “people pleaser” which has definitely got me into some sticky situations in the past.
So to summerise, Covid-19 has done me a massive favour. What about you?
Something is soothing about Grandma’s house, especially in these times of uncertainty, you can always rely on grandmas house to give you the same loving comfort it always did. Everything sits in the same place, the spider plant which will outlive us all sat in the sunny spot of the hallway next to the wooden panelled staircase. The pencil pot and the miniature framed watercolour neatly placed alongside Nik naks that one day could just come in handy. If the smell of Grandma’s house could be bottled I would certainly buy it. It is an indescribable scent perhaps of washed bedding and leather with a sprinkle of talc. A smell I know I will never smell anywhere else.
I remember when I was young I would pretend that the swirls in the patterned carpet were a racetrack and push my cars all over the house. The carpet that somehow managed to live in pristine condition for such a long amount of time, never a mark? never a tear? Even now I can’t understand this witchcraft! We live in such a disposable way of life now. Everything in Grandma’s house always had a function or a reason for being there aside of course for the cabinet of trinkets. Some valuable, some more for sentimental value. I remember staring in awe at the collection of bird ornaments on display and wishing I could hold one. This of course never happened. The items in the beautiful mahogany cabinet were for viewing only. The main and most important area of Grandma’s house is of course the kitchen or “The Hub” where warm cheese scones and lemon drizzle cake were prepared for our arrival. As soon as we put our bags down after receiving the warmest, most comforting hug from grandma we would be offered warm Ribena in posh glass mugs. my brother and I only drank warm Ribena at Grandmas, it didn’t quite taste the same at home… Grandma taught me how to measure out ingredients and had so much patience watching me attempt to cut out scones from the dough. As the mother of a very heavy-handed 4 year old, I now cannot for the life of me understand how Grandma remained so calm and patient watching me butchering a Victoria sponge cake. But this was Grandma. Calm. Kind. Patient.
Grandmas like mine don’t seem to be around so much anymore, almost like a dying breed. she was from a different age. An age where the Housewives role was an important one. Almost as important as the man of the house’s job to earn income. I used to talk to Grandma about modern life trials and tribulations and I imagine in her mind she must have been thinking how trivial it all sounds. Nothing in comparison to the hardship of living through two world wars, but yet she still sat patiently, listening and advising.
Three years Grandmas been gone now. Her house and the warmth it brought all now a memory (or a quick lookup on righmove.com which I wish I never did as seeing it so bare and empty when it was up for sale brought on a full-on meltdown and I mean ugly tears) I never managed to grieve as the process was shielded. Protected by family members that thought that perhaps they were helping by not letting anybody go to the house for one last time when in truth. Its all I wanted. One last touch of the velvet cushions neatly placed on the comfy sofa, one last sit on the fold-up bed I used to sleep on the night before Christmas as a child, the bedding still the same and still as neat as a pin. In all honesty, I think I wrote this post to help me grieve. Even now I still can’t bare to talk about grandma for more than a few minutes. she was everything I aspire to be in my later years. She just made everything seem alright. And I know you can all relate to this in some way big or small. We all have that one person that gives us this comfort. Whether it be an aunt, a grandparent, or even a friend. Maybe one day I will be this person for somebody. I sure hope so.
On Saturday the 21st of March I went to work like everybody else who works Travel/Retail/Any other customer service type role. “Right then, what arseholes am I going to have to deal with today” you know the attitude. That one that when you started the job you couldn’t wait to get stuck in making dreams come true , and now, a couple of years down the line the phrase “I’m just wanting to go somewhere hot, not sure where but it needs to be cheap” makes your face contort the same way it would if somebody were to come up to you and expel a fart in your vicinity.
Don’t get me wrong, my job is different every day and the team I work with well, there fucking awesome but little did I know that day when I finished my shift at 3pm that it would be the last time I saw the place until…well who knows right? In hindsight, if I were to relive that day knowing what I know now I would have rode horseback William Wallace style through town shouting about freedom and drinking gin. Not clock watching waiting to go home.. Which is where I’ve been ever since.
Life’s challenges have changed somewhat. At the beginning I could not believe my luck! No work?! Time at home to catch up on housework and maybe even re wallpaper the huge fireplace shaped empty patch on the living room wall where my other half thought it would be a great idea to move the room round a little? This is kind of exciting! And then I remembered that I was a parent, to a 4 year old. A 4 year old with sass.
It started well. The daily itinerary went like this –
A rude awakening at approx. 7am from Child where I promise I’ll be up in one minute if she plays nicely in her room.
Joe Wicks workout promptly at 9am
Spellings and numbers.
Dog Walk for the allotted 1 hour time frame.
“Quiet time” (with snack) most popular choice for freetime was the tablet where I learnt that horrid Henry really is a Horrid little shit.
Daddy gets home resulting in very over excitable and giddy child before bed.
Bed for child, 1 sly cigarette and gin and tonic at the bottom of the garden for me.
New Daily itinerary
A rude awakening at approx. 7am from Child where I promise I’ll be up in one minute if she plays nicely in her room. (28 minutes later, I’m still scrolling through Facebook with one eye open)
“Quiet time” with breakfast in bed.
Argue with Child about the amount of outfits she has already worn in the hour we have been awake. Child will now only reply to the name Elsa.
Tidy up Elsa’s bedroom, hide the clothes.
Dog walk to any location that child can run freely so I don’t have to look after worry too much.
Stare at Wall where the wallpapering never got done whilst eating snack.
Daddy comes home and mentions I might like to take up running?
Bed for Child, 16 cigarettes openly smoked near the back door so other half can see that I’m stressed and two Jager bombs.
And just for those wondering, which your probably not, The roll of wallpaper still sits behind the door.
I want to be left alone, my brain is too fuzzy for all the questioning, the voice from outside too much for my ears. But as I see them walking away I immediately feel fear. Abandonment. Why would they walk away when I’m feeling like this. What if I were to lose control ? Come back.
The Cyclical Nature of the Fear of Abandonment People with EUPD may simultaneously fear abandonment and have symptoms that create conflicts with others, such as volatile moods, distress intolerance, extremes of anger and withdrawal, and impulsivity. People with EUPD often engage in self-sabotaging behaviour such as oversharing, misplaced anger, impulsivity, lashing out at loved ones, and poor self-image, which leads to greater relationship disfunction. These behaviours within personal relationships often lead to relationship instability and even abandonment, which then reinforces the fear.
Sound familiar? Its sadly very familiar to people who have abandonment issues or maladaptive coping mechanisms. The need of comfort yet not being able to accept it or feeling as though you don’t deserve it. One particular example of this for me was late 2015 after a pretty stressful year of running a pub. The chaotic atmosphere and anti social working patterns alongside the management of unruly casual bar staff (although extremely funny bar staff and some of the best mates I ever had!) alongside trying to maintain a relationship with somebody who wasn’t 100percent sure we had made the right decision took its toll and caused my first major “Episode”
I don’t remember a great deal towards the beginning, only a fuzzy memory of being sat in my car staring into space for a considerable amount of time, I know it was a long time because it had started to get dark and it definitely wasn’t dark when I pulled up there. I casually rang my partner and told him that I thought I might like to walk in front of one of the lorries passing by as I’d had enough now. My worthlessness had literally come out of nowhere but I was serious and worryingly, not afraid? He came to me as soon as he could and took me to my mums which was nearby. I remember them both talking to me but I continued to stare. Completely shutting out anything that was being said. All I was thinking was “I just want to be alone, in the quiet, why are they still talking to me? I want to go to bed” There voices were a massive inconvenience to me but at the same time I had called them to be there. I knew I needed them and I knew I needed help.
It was after this that I started to take things a lot more seriously. I realised that it was possible I didn’t deal with stressful situations very well but couldn’t understand why. I couldn’t understand why until I went to visit a counsellor who tipped my version of the past 31 years on its head. What followed, was a rough ride.
I recently decided that I was going to change career paths (again) and find the real me (again) I think the recent situation with the lockdown has maybe triggered my search and my curiosity away from travel which is what I currently do.
So one evening, I thought id look at what its like to work in a mortuary. I’ve always had a strange fascination with death even going as far as spending time in cemetery’s when I was younger reading the headstones and imagining the people who were below my feet. I know, extremely morbid.
I trawled research articles on peoples experiences of working within this role and what things would be involved. After approximately 72 minutes down this rabbit hole even so much as finding a local advert for such a position I managed to get all the way down to the “Apply now” button before the realisation of the possibility of having to perhaps ever deal with children could arise and that was it. The phase passed.
I remember once I had convinced myself that I was about to become rich on the back of selling homemade crafts. I spent hundreds of pounds on scrabble tiles to make quirky box frames along with sheets of material, a glue gun and other odds and sods. I wrote in an old journal of all the ideas I had and how I was about to make it big, maybe even being the next Kirstie Allsopp! I made a Facebook page along with a questionable logo and went about starting my work. The general reception was good. I sold a few , made most of the money back that I spent but then my inspiration escaped me. One day I just stopped. No rhyme or reason, I just didn’t want to do it anymore.
This is the problem with an Impulsive mind you see. The obsession comes but is almost always swiftly followed by the wall. the mental block. Catching my interest is easy, keeping my interest is harder.
“A person who has impulsive personality disorder is charming and good at being the centre of attention. In fact, this kind of person thrives on receiving attention. He or she might be highly adventurous – even to the point of engaging in dangerous behaviour – but this person is often also superficial”
The above is Google’s answer. To be honest, this description could be said for a lot of people I know without needing any kind of special diagnosis. Its very true, but very simply described. The reality is a lot more complex often with similar symptoms to that of Bi-polar. Highs and lows that switch like a light. The impossible feeling of needing somebody but at the exact same time wanting them to leave you alone. the phrase “Go away, don’t leave” is horrifyingly relatable to me and my poor partner.
A short background story
There have been many tell tale signs over the years leading to this diagnosis which I will go more into in other posts but one thing that stands out to me is the little pity parties I have for myself and how I rarely take accountability for my actions. I wallow in self pity and dwell on past events that cant be changed. I am MASSIVLEY manipulative to make things go in my favour and sulk if they don’t. Bad traits I know (sigh) but on the flip side my mind is a hive of activity, I overthink everything but this also lets my mind delve into areas not everyone else’s does. I consider details. I am OBSESSIVE.
Regular brain – I see the bird in the tree. nice.
My brain – I see the bird in the tree and now I need to know what species it is, what habitat it usually lives in and what sound it makes. (This is this followed up with online investigations to get the answer)
I’m not even entirely sure this is even connected to the disorder or whether this is just how my brain works but I think it mainly boils down to the busy brain. The cogs going round constantly.
Impulsive personality is actually just a subtype of Borderline Personality Disorder which in all honesty is a massively under researched illness. It makes me sad when I read or hear of stories of people that clearly showed all the signs and were ignored or misdiagnosed.
if you already feel like you can relate to the above here are some more signs and symptoms –
Flirtatious with others, sometimes without even realizing it.
Captivating, able to act with a natural magnetism.
Elusive and mercurial.
Superficial, easily entertaining others on a surface level but avoiding more meaningful interactions or relationships.
High levels of energy and easily bored.
Thrill-seeking and risk-taking behaviour’s without regard for consequences.
Charismatic and charming.
Highly manipulative of others, particularly in order to position oneself as the centre of attention.