Gran got out of bed today for the first time since her stroke. She's brighter in herself - you can actually talk to her now, and she is awake more. She's not good though, she had shit on her nightie and onto the sofa after mum helped her to get to the toilet (she's far too proud to let anyone help her whilst she's in the toilet). I'm hiding in the study and crying for what feels like the millionth time in 3 days.
I was useless when it came to helping with my Grandma when she was ill, and I hated myself for it. I always thought it was because I was young and stuff, and now I'm an adult I would be really helpful for Mum should anything ever happen to Gran. Turns out I'm not though. I want to help my Mum, to support her and make this awful thing a bit easier for her. The truth is though, I can't bear to be around Gran. I can't cope with this and fuck knows how long it's going to go on like this for.
This Paint By Numbers Life Is Fucking With My Head
So Christmas was shite. My Gran had a stroke on Christmas Day. Enough said.
Retirement
My Dad's retiring today. He's a Geography teacher. He's taught the whole of his career (34 years) at the same school - www.wyvern.hants.sch.uk. He is one of those teachers who I really believe are born to teach. The comments people have made when they have found out he is leaving are testament to this; comments like 'the place won't be the same without him', 'it's the end of an era' and 'does he have to go?'. I've never know him to be anything but a teacher career wise, and that's crossed over into home life too. He teaches me daily, not in an attempt to make me a better educated person, but because teaching is what he is - finding answers to why things are the way the are, or work the way they do. Finding the story behind something rather than just the basic answer.
I feel sad that he's leaving. I understand his choice to finish now, and support his decision 100% being that it is what he wants to do. Over the years he's taught my friends, my family, my work colleagues, even parents of friends. I've never heard anyone to have a negative thing to say about his lessons, or his teaching or manner with the students. I'm immensely proud of my dad, the geography teacher. Now, when people ask what my dad does, I'm still going to say he's a teacher, because he always will be. Only now he's not on a salary for it!
Dad leaving Wyvern today is a loss for the students yet to reach his classroom; but an exciting step into another part of his life. I hope it brings the happiness he deserves.
I feel sad that he's leaving. I understand his choice to finish now, and support his decision 100% being that it is what he wants to do. Over the years he's taught my friends, my family, my work colleagues, even parents of friends. I've never heard anyone to have a negative thing to say about his lessons, or his teaching or manner with the students. I'm immensely proud of my dad, the geography teacher. Now, when people ask what my dad does, I'm still going to say he's a teacher, because he always will be. Only now he's not on a salary for it!
Dad leaving Wyvern today is a loss for the students yet to reach his classroom; but an exciting step into another part of his life. I hope it brings the happiness he deserves.
Pissed Off & Ready To Roar
I feel the need to moan for a bit. I have a somewhat tricky relationship with my sister. We bounce from getting along reasonably well on a superficial level where we both con ourselves into believing all is well and good; to having a major barney and hurting each other quite a lot and feeling very let down. The latter generally seems to appear around public holidays when we need to be getting on for the sake of others. It also generally involves The Bitch – aka my aunt. Calling her that may sound like I’m being really horrid, but trust me, I’m not.
So I recently asked my sister to go on a cheap holiday with me. She’s been unemployed for a few months, but has now begun a very well paid job. I wanted to just have a long weekend in the sun somewhere. Not anything fancy, just a chance to relax and escape for a while. Apparently she cannot afford it. I spoke to her on the phone earlier. She mentioned a holiday in March. Surprised, I asked where she was going and with whom. Quelle surprise it’s with The Bitch and a couple of their mutual friends, for a fortnight in Morocco!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, because that’s soooo much cheaper than a two bed apartment in the Canary Islands for 4 nights……!!!!!
What I suspect is really the truth here is that she just does not want to spend time with me, or really put any effort into us forging any kind of a relationship together. Instead she’s much happier living according to The Bitch’s instructions.
I don’t know why I am surprised by it anymore, or why I still get hurt by it. It’s not like it’s anything new I’m dealing with here.
So I recently asked my sister to go on a cheap holiday with me. She’s been unemployed for a few months, but has now begun a very well paid job. I wanted to just have a long weekend in the sun somewhere. Not anything fancy, just a chance to relax and escape for a while. Apparently she cannot afford it. I spoke to her on the phone earlier. She mentioned a holiday in March. Surprised, I asked where she was going and with whom. Quelle surprise it’s with The Bitch and a couple of their mutual friends, for a fortnight in Morocco!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, because that’s soooo much cheaper than a two bed apartment in the Canary Islands for 4 nights……!!!!!
What I suspect is really the truth here is that she just does not want to spend time with me, or really put any effort into us forging any kind of a relationship together. Instead she’s much happier living according to The Bitch’s instructions.
I don’t know why I am surprised by it anymore, or why I still get hurt by it. It’s not like it’s anything new I’m dealing with here.
Language Barriers
I have some friends and acquaintances who, through no fault of their own, make me feel very inadequate and stupid. They talk in sentences which sound like something from Dawson’s Creek. It’s not in a patronising ‘look how clever I am and the words that I use in everyday life’ kind of way. It’s just that they are clever people who speak well and love words. I find myself constructing sentences to send to them (I largely talk to them on the internet) and reworking it until I am satisfied with the level of language I am using. I love words too. It’s not that I don’t like to use these words because I do. I use them all the time when writing essays, or poems, or portfolio work. Maybe it’s because for the mostpart of my week I am either with young people and tend to speak their language instead, or am counselling orientated and have to pick my words very precisely.
It’s another mask for me to wear. It’s another attempt to ignore the real me and be the person I feel I should be. These people, who inadvertently make me feel inadequate and stupid either probably do not really care how I speak because they love me ‘warts and all’ (as the unbearable Oliver Cromwell once said). Or if they do judge me on not being able to craft a sentence so eloquently as them – well I don’t want them to be my friend.
They probably are not even aware that they speak this way, and that I get in such a knot over it anyway – that’s the irony of it all!
It’s another mask for me to wear. It’s another attempt to ignore the real me and be the person I feel I should be. These people, who inadvertently make me feel inadequate and stupid either probably do not really care how I speak because they love me ‘warts and all’ (as the unbearable Oliver Cromwell once said). Or if they do judge me on not being able to craft a sentence so eloquently as them – well I don’t want them to be my friend.
They probably are not even aware that they speak this way, and that I get in such a knot over it anyway – that’s the irony of it all!
'Happy' Christmas
I love Christmas in principle. When I say Christmas I don't mean the Christian festival - that sucks (a story for another time). I am referring to Christmastime. I love the possibilities that come with Yule; the turn from the darkness to the light, and the first signs of rebirth and Spring appearing. I feel a sense of hope that if Mother Earth can pull herself out of the frozen wastelands and turn her face to a new dawn and a fresh start, then so can I.
So at the moment I am feeling positive. I am turning away from my own handmade darkness (I'm not ignoring it though - ignore it and it has a funny way of screwing you when you least expect it)and looking for my new dawn. That first daffodil of Spring is my flame.
So at the moment I am feeling positive. I am turning away from my own handmade darkness (I'm not ignoring it though - ignore it and it has a funny way of screwing you when you least expect it)and looking for my new dawn. That first daffodil of Spring is my flame.
Deep Breath, Here Goes
Last night I had an urge. Given the fact that this is hard for me to write, I don't think I'm going to be any more explicit than that. Although, you've probably got a fair idea on what I'm talking about anyway. I get this feeling deep down that I know so well. It starts off so faint I'm barely aware that it's there. It creeps up on me, getting stronger, until I feel like it's got such a tight grip on me that if I don't fulfill this urge then it will send me mad. It's all I can think about, all I can see, it literally consumes every one of my senses. I lose all sense of reasoning and congition, I exist on a very basic level of need and desire. I caught myself in time last night. I was curled up and foetal, all my energy going into not connecting blade and skin.
I remember my first time completely. It changed my life entirely. I feel trapped by it, but feel free when I do it; I feel ashamed but also totally unashamed of my scars; I feel constricted by it but in control at the same time; I feel controlled by it and also in control of it. Given the physical and mental pain it has caused me (and still does cause me on a pretty much daily basis) would I go back and alter that day when I first did it at fourteen? No, I don't think I would.
I'm pleased with myself that last night I didn't do it. But I'm not ashamed that two weeks ago I did.
I remember my first time completely. It changed my life entirely. I feel trapped by it, but feel free when I do it; I feel ashamed but also totally unashamed of my scars; I feel constricted by it but in control at the same time; I feel controlled by it and also in control of it. Given the physical and mental pain it has caused me (and still does cause me on a pretty much daily basis) would I go back and alter that day when I first did it at fourteen? No, I don't think I would.
I'm pleased with myself that last night I didn't do it. But I'm not ashamed that two weeks ago I did.
The Beatles v The Rolling Stones
Apparantly you're only allowed to like one or the other - The Beatles or The Rolling Stones. It's a bit like Metallica or Iron Maiden; Led Zeppelin or Deep Purple. Or to take it to an extreme: Take That or East 17!
I don't understand this debate. Why can you not love both? Why limit yourself to one band when you can have twice the musical magic instead? Surely it's a case of cutting off your nose to spite your face as my mother would say?
Maybe I'm getting old. I'm sure that the sixteen year old me would happily recite me a list of reasons why you can only like one or the other, and only mix with those who have the same opinions as you. At the grand old age of 25 (going on 65 some days) I find myself being much more liberal. I like to call it 'liberal' rather than thinking I have lost the passion I had for things at sixteen.
I remember having a debate with my Dad at that age. I told him I would never lose my individuality; my sense of injustice and desire to change the world; my belief that Che Guevara really was the most brilliant political activist to walk on this earth.
Maybe my stage seven has come early. I'm having my middle life crisis at twenty five. Perhaps I just need to buy myself a motorbike... maybe that's what's missing. (Then I'd have to stop listening to The Who - that's not biker music!)
I don't understand this debate. Why can you not love both? Why limit yourself to one band when you can have twice the musical magic instead? Surely it's a case of cutting off your nose to spite your face as my mother would say?
Maybe I'm getting old. I'm sure that the sixteen year old me would happily recite me a list of reasons why you can only like one or the other, and only mix with those who have the same opinions as you. At the grand old age of 25 (going on 65 some days) I find myself being much more liberal. I like to call it 'liberal' rather than thinking I have lost the passion I had for things at sixteen.
I remember having a debate with my Dad at that age. I told him I would never lose my individuality; my sense of injustice and desire to change the world; my belief that Che Guevara really was the most brilliant political activist to walk on this earth.
Maybe my stage seven has come early. I'm having my middle life crisis at twenty five. Perhaps I just need to buy myself a motorbike... maybe that's what's missing. (Then I'd have to stop listening to The Who - that's not biker music!)
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