We received some very sad news today; my surrogate grandmother (my cousins' Nan on the other side of their family), Nanny Doff, passed away late yesterday evening. She was an absolutely wonderful lady, and I mean lady in the most literal sense - she was a real class act. Her incredible warmth was evident in the way she treated all of her grandchildren's cousins as if they were her own, including sending us birthday and Christmas presents when we were kids. Her parties were legendary, and I will always remember her dancing away at my cousin's wedding after a few glasses of wine, sliding down a wall and still dancing when she reached the floor, laughing the whole time. Everyone absolutely loved her. Unfortunately in recent years she suffered from dementia, and while she had declined significantly the last time I saw her, she still had that unmistakable twinkle in her eye.
I'm so grateful she was part of my life, and she will be sorely missed by all of us. Dorothy, you were an absolute diamond. Rest in peace xxx
Saturday, 22 October 2011
Friday, 21 October 2011
I went to the nurse for a flu jab and all I got was this lousy cold.
O hay.
One of the perks of my job, highlights of which include unlimited Galaxy hot chocolate from the machine and all the post-its I can smuggle*, is the free flu jab available every winter. Seeing as I'd have to pay to get one from the GP, and I can't really have any more sick leave for the next decade or so, I decided to take the plunge and get my first ever flu jab. Apart from a bit of stinging when the juice actually went in, it was alright. What is not alright is the fact that my arm looks and feels like the jab was administered by Mike Tyson's fist. It really fucking hurts man. And 2 days on, I now have a cold, which I know isn't the flu, but still - good one irony. Alanis Morissette would have a fucking field day.
Not much gwannin other from that. I've managed to stay on the wagon, aside from a minor blip involving seasonal apple crumble, so that's good. I'll be seeing Mands and Jules tomorrow for Mands' looming big 2-5, which I am well excited about. Aaaaand I'm going to actively hunt for an iPhone this weekend, because if I'm not dealing with my BB's drama anymore. It needs to recognise that I'm the diva in this user-appliance relationship, and I will relinquish none of my rights for that fool.
Wishing you a happy and restful weekend. Peace out x
*This is a self-appointed perk which may in fact be frowned upon.
One of the perks of my job, highlights of which include unlimited Galaxy hot chocolate from the machine and all the post-its I can smuggle*, is the free flu jab available every winter. Seeing as I'd have to pay to get one from the GP, and I can't really have any more sick leave for the next decade or so, I decided to take the plunge and get my first ever flu jab. Apart from a bit of stinging when the juice actually went in, it was alright. What is not alright is the fact that my arm looks and feels like the jab was administered by Mike Tyson's fist. It really fucking hurts man. And 2 days on, I now have a cold, which I know isn't the flu, but still - good one irony. Alanis Morissette would have a fucking field day.
Not much gwannin other from that. I've managed to stay on the wagon, aside from a minor blip involving seasonal apple crumble, so that's good. I'll be seeing Mands and Jules tomorrow for Mands' looming big 2-5, which I am well excited about. Aaaaand I'm going to actively hunt for an iPhone this weekend, because if I'm not dealing with my BB's drama anymore. It needs to recognise that I'm the diva in this user-appliance relationship, and I will relinquish none of my rights for that fool.
Wishing you a happy and restful weekend. Peace out x
*This is a self-appointed perk which may in fact be frowned upon.
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
The wagon, mental locums, noPhone, and mo' shit.
Wagwan.
First up, I'm back on the wagon. For those of you unfamiliar with my usage of the term, it relates to food rather than the demon drink. Coming from a family that celebrates pretty much everything with an elaborate meal (including, but not limited to; birthdays, graduations, promotions, anniversaries, Saturday...), food is intrinsically linked with emotion for me. I am quite literally an emotional eater. Earlier this year, I lost 23 pounds on a simple low fat/calorie diet combined with exercise - boring but effective. Then Easter happened, I had chocolate for the first time in six weeks, and the diet went out the window. I've had a few half-arsed attempts to get back on the wagon, but my heart hasn't been in it and inevitably I've given up. Now I'm back on the wagon, HARDCORE, and it's boring as fuck. Salad is at least 90% less enjoyable in winter than it is in spring. However, I'm determined to shift a bit of weight before Christmas and my trip to Egypt next year, so that's what I'ma do. Word.
Speaking of Egypt (seamless link), I'm going there in February with my cousin Michelle. I can't WAIT! We're going to Sharm el-Sheikh for a week on what I think is my first ever all-inclusive holiday. Obviously going to be taking full advantage of whatever I can legitimately claim as part of the package. Also, as Michelle is on the Irish side of the family, we're both ethnically pale, and as such the February heat/sun will suit us perfectly. I'm also going with MC to Berlin the week before Christmas to see Carla, who interned in our office for 5 months. They are both awesome, and there will be historical stuff/relics of communism, plus Christmas markets, so I am all kids of excited! AND I'm off to Ireland at the end of November for Dad's early birthday meal in his favourite restaurant in Killarney. You see, we don't just celebrate stuff with food, we take that shit international yo.
Tomorrow I'm going back to the GP to get a referral for the ENT specialist or neurologist, whichever's more appropriate for my labyrinthitis. I had hoped to get this sorted last week, but unfortunately the surgery is having a bit of trouble retaining staff (not gobby receptionists though, still plenty of dem bitchez), and so I saw a locum. Well, she was supposed to be a locum. I suspect she was either a geriatric witch doctor or an escaped mental patient. Or both. Not the best person to see when one is suffering with anxiety, put it that way. I went in, sat down, told her what I needed, and she responded that as she was a locum, I only had 10 minutes and that I had to decide which was more important; a referral to the therapist, or the ENT. By this point I was so anxious that my throat started closing up, so I chose therapy. She did the standard psych questionnaire, an A4 sheet which took about 15 minutes to complete, 14 of which she spent either checking her iPhone, calling reception, or trying to count to 19. Seriously. She asked me several times whether I wanted to top myself (slightly more eloquently), and the rascal in me wanted to say "not before this appointment", but there was a high chance she would have had me sectioned as a suicide risk. Anyway, questionnaire complete, she decided I was mental enough to get therapy, and proceeded to dictate my referral letter. At the time, I felt this was slightly unusual, but I hoped she would be passing the dictaphone to one of the gobby receptionists to type up and send to me. It has now been 8 days since the appointment and I still don't have the letter, which has prompted me to assume the 'dictaphone' was in fact a scale model or craft project. Anyway, I'm going back tomorrow, so I'll demand another one. And I requested not to see a locum again. Ever.
Finally, my BlackBerry has been doing my brain in. It broke down during the server crash last week, and for some reason hasn't been holding a charge since. I'm keen to get an iPhone, but there is a massive lack of white 32GBs at any o2 store. And I need to go to a shop to upgrade, which is laaaaaame. So yeah, as soon as I can get my hands on one, it's bye bye BB. BB bye bye.
And that's it! May Xenu be with you.
First up, I'm back on the wagon. For those of you unfamiliar with my usage of the term, it relates to food rather than the demon drink. Coming from a family that celebrates pretty much everything with an elaborate meal (including, but not limited to; birthdays, graduations, promotions, anniversaries, Saturday...), food is intrinsically linked with emotion for me. I am quite literally an emotional eater. Earlier this year, I lost 23 pounds on a simple low fat/calorie diet combined with exercise - boring but effective. Then Easter happened, I had chocolate for the first time in six weeks, and the diet went out the window. I've had a few half-arsed attempts to get back on the wagon, but my heart hasn't been in it and inevitably I've given up. Now I'm back on the wagon, HARDCORE, and it's boring as fuck. Salad is at least 90% less enjoyable in winter than it is in spring. However, I'm determined to shift a bit of weight before Christmas and my trip to Egypt next year, so that's what I'ma do. Word.
Speaking of Egypt (seamless link), I'm going there in February with my cousin Michelle. I can't WAIT! We're going to Sharm el-Sheikh for a week on what I think is my first ever all-inclusive holiday. Obviously going to be taking full advantage of whatever I can legitimately claim as part of the package. Also, as Michelle is on the Irish side of the family, we're both ethnically pale, and as such the February heat/sun will suit us perfectly. I'm also going with MC to Berlin the week before Christmas to see Carla, who interned in our office for 5 months. They are both awesome, and there will be historical stuff/relics of communism, plus Christmas markets, so I am all kids of excited! AND I'm off to Ireland at the end of November for Dad's early birthday meal in his favourite restaurant in Killarney. You see, we don't just celebrate stuff with food, we take that shit international yo.
Tomorrow I'm going back to the GP to get a referral for the ENT specialist or neurologist, whichever's more appropriate for my labyrinthitis. I had hoped to get this sorted last week, but unfortunately the surgery is having a bit of trouble retaining staff (not gobby receptionists though, still plenty of dem bitchez), and so I saw a locum. Well, she was supposed to be a locum. I suspect she was either a geriatric witch doctor or an escaped mental patient. Or both. Not the best person to see when one is suffering with anxiety, put it that way. I went in, sat down, told her what I needed, and she responded that as she was a locum, I only had 10 minutes and that I had to decide which was more important; a referral to the therapist, or the ENT. By this point I was so anxious that my throat started closing up, so I chose therapy. She did the standard psych questionnaire, an A4 sheet which took about 15 minutes to complete, 14 of which she spent either checking her iPhone, calling reception, or trying to count to 19. Seriously. She asked me several times whether I wanted to top myself (slightly more eloquently), and the rascal in me wanted to say "not before this appointment", but there was a high chance she would have had me sectioned as a suicide risk. Anyway, questionnaire complete, she decided I was mental enough to get therapy, and proceeded to dictate my referral letter. At the time, I felt this was slightly unusual, but I hoped she would be passing the dictaphone to one of the gobby receptionists to type up and send to me. It has now been 8 days since the appointment and I still don't have the letter, which has prompted me to assume the 'dictaphone' was in fact a scale model or craft project. Anyway, I'm going back tomorrow, so I'll demand another one. And I requested not to see a locum again. Ever.
Finally, my BlackBerry has been doing my brain in. It broke down during the server crash last week, and for some reason hasn't been holding a charge since. I'm keen to get an iPhone, but there is a massive lack of white 32GBs at any o2 store. And I need to go to a shop to upgrade, which is laaaaaame. So yeah, as soon as I can get my hands on one, it's bye bye BB. BB bye bye.
And that's it! May Xenu be with you.
Friday, 7 October 2011
Panic! At the *insert location*!
So, a lot has changed since last we spoke. Firstly, I've been bladdy ill. Unfortunately not the kind of illness where you can milk the outward symptoms to the max (those are the best), but the kind where some observers believe it's being put on, or exaggerated, or it's all in my head. Well, they'd be partially right on the last point. I have a condition called Labyrinthitis (not Bowie related - sorry if you've already seen this pun repeated on Twitter and Facebook ad nauseum), which is basically damage to the inner ear, usually due to infection, a head injury, or a multitude of other possible reasons. When it is uncompensated (i.e. the brain finds it difficult to re-adjust given the ear damage), it can lead to balance problems, dizziness, faintness, feeling like the ground is moving or jolting, tinnitis, headaches, sensitivity to light and other sensory stimuli etc, and the real bastard of the whole thing: anxiety and panic attacks.
I didn't appreciate just how terrifying panic attacks were until I started having them; I don't think anyone can. The overwhelming feeling of fear is something I've never experienced before, and although my parents tried to get me to breathe through it and assure me that it wouldn't last, I was genuinely scared that it would go on all night. Since the first attack, I've had ongoing anxiety that varies in intensity day-by-day. I've been prescribed diazepam in the short term to deal with the acute symptoms, but I'm on a tiny dose now and some days I go without it completely. Plus I'll shortly be starting cognitive behavioural therapy (luckily I have Bupa through work, so I shouldn't have to join some long arse waiting list), as well as going to see a consultant about my ears. I hate that my anxiety has taken away so much of my independence, and has made me call in sick several times, but luckily most people have been incredibly understanding. It was actually my boss, who I expected to be really annoyed at my absence, who said one of the nicest things about the whole situation - that being "I know you're not faking it." That was a massive relief, because I hate letting people down, and as there's still so much awkwardness about mental health it was actually great to have someone talk honestly and openly about it. His next words were, and I quote, "if I thought you were putting it on, I would have been like, for fuck sake Jenah!" Awesome.
Now begins the road to recovery. I know that getting over my panic and anxiety issues won't be a linear process, but I hope the CBT will give me the tools to deal with it better. Fingers crossed!
Unfortunately I haven't really been on many adventures since all this started. I did, however, go to a very nice members-only cocktail bar for my friend Jess' birthday, where the beautiful waiter made me an even more beautiful non-alcoholic peach and passion fruit cocktail. I had to keep it teetotal due to the meds, but the proper cocktails looked frickin' awesome too! They also played Marvin Gaye, so I was all kinds of impressed. We had munch at The Diner beforehand, which was yum yum yummy as always. It was so great just to get out and be kind of normal for an afternoon. I'm going to attempt shopping this weekend, because I am in desperate need of hair dye.
Oh yeah, I dyed my hair RED. Properly. As in permanently. Air five! As I'd had an absolute fucking mare with the John Frieda Go Blonder stuff (I wanted to just add a bit of a golden tint to my light brown hair, and I ended up revealing myself to be somewhat of a secret ginger - this will undoubtedly come up in therapy), I decided to take advantage of the bleaching and go red. It looked even more awesome than I could have dreamed of, but now I've got some badman roots. Apparently my hair grows quite fast. Motherfucker. So yeah, I need to dye it as a matter of urgency.
Work is fine - I'm starting to feel a bit antsy and eager for change, but there's a chance I may get promoted soon, so it might be worth staying for now. Plus I have a deep love for my health insurance. Maybe not the best reason for staying with an employer, but yeah. I'll definitely still be there as long as I need therapy, put it that way!
So that's it, you're updated. I can't think of anything else and my Chinese is on its merry way. I will leave you with a quote from a rapper in the episode of The Simpsons where Bart does that cringey 8-Mile tribute thing:
Now let's go murder our enemies. Peace.
I didn't appreciate just how terrifying panic attacks were until I started having them; I don't think anyone can. The overwhelming feeling of fear is something I've never experienced before, and although my parents tried to get me to breathe through it and assure me that it wouldn't last, I was genuinely scared that it would go on all night. Since the first attack, I've had ongoing anxiety that varies in intensity day-by-day. I've been prescribed diazepam in the short term to deal with the acute symptoms, but I'm on a tiny dose now and some days I go without it completely. Plus I'll shortly be starting cognitive behavioural therapy (luckily I have Bupa through work, so I shouldn't have to join some long arse waiting list), as well as going to see a consultant about my ears. I hate that my anxiety has taken away so much of my independence, and has made me call in sick several times, but luckily most people have been incredibly understanding. It was actually my boss, who I expected to be really annoyed at my absence, who said one of the nicest things about the whole situation - that being "I know you're not faking it." That was a massive relief, because I hate letting people down, and as there's still so much awkwardness about mental health it was actually great to have someone talk honestly and openly about it. His next words were, and I quote, "if I thought you were putting it on, I would have been like, for fuck sake Jenah!" Awesome.
Now begins the road to recovery. I know that getting over my panic and anxiety issues won't be a linear process, but I hope the CBT will give me the tools to deal with it better. Fingers crossed!
Unfortunately I haven't really been on many adventures since all this started. I did, however, go to a very nice members-only cocktail bar for my friend Jess' birthday, where the beautiful waiter made me an even more beautiful non-alcoholic peach and passion fruit cocktail. I had to keep it teetotal due to the meds, but the proper cocktails looked frickin' awesome too! They also played Marvin Gaye, so I was all kinds of impressed. We had munch at The Diner beforehand, which was yum yum yummy as always. It was so great just to get out and be kind of normal for an afternoon. I'm going to attempt shopping this weekend, because I am in desperate need of hair dye.
Oh yeah, I dyed my hair RED. Properly. As in permanently. Air five! As I'd had an absolute fucking mare with the John Frieda Go Blonder stuff (I wanted to just add a bit of a golden tint to my light brown hair, and I ended up revealing myself to be somewhat of a secret ginger - this will undoubtedly come up in therapy), I decided to take advantage of the bleaching and go red. It looked even more awesome than I could have dreamed of, but now I've got some badman roots. Apparently my hair grows quite fast. Motherfucker. So yeah, I need to dye it as a matter of urgency.
Work is fine - I'm starting to feel a bit antsy and eager for change, but there's a chance I may get promoted soon, so it might be worth staying for now. Plus I have a deep love for my health insurance. Maybe not the best reason for staying with an employer, but yeah. I'll definitely still be there as long as I need therapy, put it that way!
So that's it, you're updated. I can't think of anything else and my Chinese is on its merry way. I will leave you with a quote from a rapper in the episode of The Simpsons where Bart does that cringey 8-Mile tribute thing:
Now let's go murder our enemies. Peace.
Friday, 12 August 2011
Be (Intro)
Hi!
Welcome to my new blog. For those of you who were with me during The Blog That Jenah Built days, nice to see you again :) I closed TBTJB primarily because I didn't really use it any more, but also as my life had changed so much since I started it (December 2007 yo!), a natural break had presented itself.
I expect this blog will be much of the same - life updates, commentary on the news and politics, misplaced hip hop references, and hopefully less angst.
I borrowed the title of this post from the opening track of Common's 2005 album, Be, and will conclude with a very fitting line from it:
Never looking back, or too far in front of me. The present is a gift, and I just wanna be.
Welcome to my new blog. For those of you who were with me during The Blog That Jenah Built days, nice to see you again :) I closed TBTJB primarily because I didn't really use it any more, but also as my life had changed so much since I started it (December 2007 yo!), a natural break had presented itself.
I expect this blog will be much of the same - life updates, commentary on the news and politics, misplaced hip hop references, and hopefully less angst.
I borrowed the title of this post from the opening track of Common's 2005 album, Be, and will conclude with a very fitting line from it:
Never looking back, or too far in front of me. The present is a gift, and I just wanna be.
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