Exams- I passed them. Just the dissertation to go. How do I feel? meh.
What? Am I supposed to be galloping around with joy in my heart? I should be grateful. And I am. I passed, I don't have to go through it again. Dissertation is plodding on at a steady rate, regular work on my transcriptions (unlike the RSI inducing dissertation completed for my BA in Lang and Human Comm, GP - "Well, you'll just have to stop typing for a few days..."... "I DON'T HAVE A FEW DAYS")
The final hours in clinic doing paediatric work with hearing impaired kids is going smoothly and I'm very much reconsidering paeds. Although last week the moment I took off my glasses I got excitedly splattered with bubble mix and spit ( that of a six year old child, not my own, although given the content of this blog I would forgive you for thinking that I was the source of the aforementioned cocktail)... in the nicest kind of way. ish. Kinda standard really, and as I sighed, scrunched my face up and sort of snorted anti viral foam I really felt like I am just being videoed for some kind of TV show. A bit like the Truman Show. I often sort of suspect this......
Been creating reasons to be forward thinking, been cajoling myself into being cheerful. It sort of works and then it crashes. It's hard work. You can't see the fissures in my mental health. I look entirely normal. Normal takes all my effort. I can do it, I can function - it just takes more effort than most to achieve this state (but it's worth the effort), hence the need for quiet alone time, for quiet exhausted tears and long restorative naps.
yeah, anyway,
yeah, anyway,
I took Mr D, my complex counterpart,my boyfriend on a spur of the moment 'date day'. We had an excellent time playing mini golf (I won, yes) we walked through three bays and climbed rugged rock faces. Stared out into the sea, faces salt licked by the wind. And there was a perfect moment where everything was still, all movements could've been paused right there and then in a snapshot and all the pieces of a disjointed mind synchronised and all was as it should be, right where it belongs.
Stillness in the chaos filling up the void. For a moment the circle was complete; Gestalt. The whole moment was so much more than the sum of it's parts.
I tried to breathe in the sunshine, I absorbed the view into my memory and prayed for it to stay anchored there (nearly 10 months sans lormetazepam). Clarity, that's the name for the feeling. There was no fear.
Maybe you'd like to see this? Well, if you don't, click away or something, otherwise tough shit, you're gonna look anyway, aren't you? I mean you read this so far, now, get yourself a cup of tea and come admire the view with me.
And stop laughing at my pasty legs with the oddly knobbly knees...
So yeah TL:DR nice things happened, there was a beach. All was still for a few hours.
I intended to vent my spleen on the issue of abandonment and the impact of transition. This has been the major theme thrust in my face at SHED meetings. I did not select this topic. Change, transition, abandonment, "Of course you will be sad Heather, it's normal" - Yeah okay... I feel like I am holding my life as a handful of sand and no matter what I do little bits keeping seeping through. This causes a chocking panic, a desperate grasping in the dark just flailing around hoping to grab anything that is still. Very strange. Almost as strange as being weighed (with increasing regularity) and then that causing almighty hell to break lose during appointments. snot. tears. a tantrummy little 30 year old toddler literally throwing shoes and demanding answers to the unanswerable. And how very dare they probe my inner workings and peel back the skin to stare at my feelings in all their fleshy vulnerability when I know that
it.
will.
end.
because of course, they are therapists and clinicians, not friends - that is the trick to remember. In a way, to them I am just another manilla file in the cabinet, forgettable....dischargeable (hell knows when)
it.
will.
end.
because of course, they are therapists and clinicians, not friends - that is the trick to remember. In a way, to them I am just another manilla file in the cabinet, forgettable....dischargeable (hell knows when)
And they will take that precious cargo of my story, my truth, my weakness and doubt and re-package it into a file, with as many questionnaires and tests possible in order to evaluate me for NHS baselines and outcomes. They are kindly and they wish to help, but ultimately they have given me all they can, I have given all I can
and
there
is
nothing
left
to
give.
Therefore I should be spat out of the NHS machine and discharged, but nobody will. Hmm.
And I let them in knowing all the time that they will leave and so I hold little pieces back, they are mine alone, can't take that from me sorry, you'll only break it by accident.You can't keep all of me in that file. And I'd rather tear my heart out than entrust them with all the pieces, even if they are broken, those pieces are still mine. But that doesn't mean anything at all. But I am trying to believe
And you never get away
and
there
is
nothing
left
to
give.
Therefore I should be spat out of the NHS machine and discharged, but nobody will. Hmm.
And I let them in knowing all the time that they will leave and so I hold little pieces back, they are mine alone, can't take that from me sorry, you'll only break it by accident.You can't keep all of me in that file. And I'd rather tear my heart out than entrust them with all the pieces, even if they are broken, those pieces are still mine. But that doesn't mean anything at all. But I am trying to believe
And you never get away
And you never get
to take the easy way
And all of this is
a consequence
Brought on by our
own hand
If you believe in
that sort of thing
And did you ever
really find
When you closed
your eyes
Any place that was
still
And at peace
