OK, so I know this isn't really the place to complain about my life, which, really I'm not. I'm just going to explain how difficult this week has been for me, and why the offer I received on Monday meant so much.
I suppose, really, I need to start from Friday. I had a gig to review, which sounds makes me sound a lot cooler than I actually am. Although I have a degree in Journalism, I haven't done anything with it for a long time. Recently, a friend who's in a band, asked me to go and review their gig, just because he happened to know I still write (very) occasionally. So, on Friday night, out we pop, and review this band. Hubby kindly came to pick me up afterwards (as, let's face it, I was pretty drunk by the end of the night), and home we go.
Saturday morning started off quite badly. Whenever hubby gets up with the kids, the living is always a mess by the time I venture down. Which, on Saturday morning, wasn't that late. The morning kids cartoons were still on. Anyway, I had a moan for a few minutes, and then took some paracetamol. My mum then comes over for a couple of hours, but leaves quite hastily after I just loose my temper with hubby. I can't even remember what it was about. The day spiralled after that. I curled up on the sofa and wept. Not cried, wept.
Normally, when I'm feeling low, the kids are sort of like a safe harbour for me. They're the shining beacon to my ships stormy waters. No matter how low I am, the kids can always pull me back. I sort of hang on to their bright spots in my mind, and physically pull myself out. Not on Saturday. Even though they were coming up to me and cuddling me, I just couldn't seem to respond to them.
I actually felt like my heart was breaking. As I later described it to hubby, it felt like my 'aura' had been broken into smithereens, and it physically hurt.
This lasted a couple of hours. I couldn't move, I was actually too scared to move in case I hurt someone. I curled up in a ball, and was listless. It was horrible.
I eventually came around enough to watch Strictly Come Dancing, Merlin and X Factor, and to get myself to bed. Sunday morning came around, and I didn't feel too much better, although, somehow I managed to dress, do a quick shop, and write the gig review from Friday night. I emailed it to the band, and posted it on Facebook, and promptly, forgot about it.
By Monday, I thought I was going backwards. I asked hubby to take the toddler who won't speak to grandparents for the day, and 4 year old would be going to school. I just didn't want to loose interest in them again, without anyone there to be interested in them instead. Somehow, while my daughter was here, I managed to keep myself together, occasionally checking Twitter and Facebook on my iPhone. I'd had a friend request off someone I didn't know, but after checking their profile, decided to accept it. Half an hour later, I'd had an email from this person, asking me to be the InHouse reviewer for the venue where the band had played on Friday night.
That was the confidence boost I needed. Instead of spending the rest of the day wallowing after my daughter had gone to school, I cleaned the house, and then got busy on the old tinterweb. I created my own gig review page on Facebook and Myspace. I wrote up a review of the Muse concert I went to in Manchester at the beginning of the month. I posted them all online.
Tuesday, again, I had a good day. I managed to get a thousand words of my book done, in an hour, and finished a difficult chapter. But I wasn't feeling too well. I have had a cyst on my nose for the past three years. Most of the time, it's tiny, and you can't actually see it, but over the last few days it's began to grow. It's like it's got a life of it's own. Anyway, because of where it is, which is near the bridge of my nose, I can't wear my glasses at the moment, because it hurts. So, why don't I get it removed, I hear you ask. Simple. I did try to get it removed, I got gowned up for the day surgery, until the surgeon turned round and informed me that it couldn't be done. The consultant who reffered me for surgery, had out down that my cyst was on my temple. Not the bridge of my nose. I mean, what sort of idiot doesn't know the difference between the nose, and the temple? Especially someone who is apparently medically trained.
I digress. My sinuses were also beginning to hurt a bit, and by Wednesday morning, it felt like I had full blown flu. Grandparents, again, took the toddler who won't speak, and daughter would be going to school, so I slept and watched chick flicks.
Feeling a bit better today. Have got up bright and early, and sat writing this. A bit depressing, I know, but always best to be open and honest with these things, otherwise, I'm not going to be honest about anything else on here. Have emailed my contact this morning, as there's another gig on tonight at the venue, and even though I feel like it's deepest, darkest winter because of my stuffed up sinuses, I want to write. It's what I've always wanted. I've just never made enough effort before to get my name out there and get noticed. Always made excuses. I suppose, really, I need to start from Friday. I had a gig to review, which sounds makes me sound a lot cooler than I actually am. Although I have a degree in Journalism, I haven't done anything with it for a long time. Recently, a friend who's in a band, asked me to go and review their gig, just because he happened to know I still write (very) occasionally. So, on Friday night, out we pop, and review this band. Hubby kindly came to pick me up afterwards (as, let's face it, I was pretty drunk by the end of the night), and home we go.
Saturday morning started off quite badly. Whenever hubby gets up with the kids, the living is always a mess by the time I venture down. Which, on Saturday morning, wasn't that late. The morning kids cartoons were still on. Anyway, I had a moan for a few minutes, and then took some paracetamol. My mum then comes over for a couple of hours, but leaves quite hastily after I just loose my temper with hubby. I can't even remember what it was about. The day spiralled after that. I curled up on the sofa and wept. Not cried, wept.
Normally, when I'm feeling low, the kids are sort of like a safe harbour for me. They're the shining beacon to my ships stormy waters. No matter how low I am, the kids can always pull me back. I sort of hang on to their bright spots in my mind, and physically pull myself out. Not on Saturday. Even though they were coming up to me and cuddling me, I just couldn't seem to respond to them.
I actually felt like my heart was breaking. As I later described it to hubby, it felt like my 'aura' had been broken into smithereens, and it physically hurt.
This lasted a couple of hours. I couldn't move, I was actually too scared to move in case I hurt someone. I curled up in a ball, and was listless. It was horrible.
I eventually came around enough to watch Strictly Come Dancing, Merlin and X Factor, and to get myself to bed. Sunday morning came around, and I didn't feel too much better, although, somehow I managed to dress, do a quick shop, and write the gig review from Friday night. I emailed it to the band, and posted it on Facebook, and promptly, forgot about it.
By Monday, I thought I was going backwards. I asked hubby to take the toddler who won't speak to grandparents for the day, and 4 year old would be going to school. I just didn't want to loose interest in them again, without anyone there to be interested in them instead. Somehow, while my daughter was here, I managed to keep myself together, occasionally checking Twitter and Facebook on my iPhone. I'd had a friend request off someone I didn't know, but after checking their profile, decided to accept it. Half an hour later, I'd had an email from this person, asking me to be the InHouse reviewer for the venue where the band had played on Friday night.
That was the confidence boost I needed. Instead of spending the rest of the day wallowing after my daughter had gone to school, I cleaned the house, and then got busy on the old tinterweb. I created my own gig review page on Facebook and Myspace. I wrote up a review of the Muse concert I went to in Manchester at the beginning of the month. I posted them all online.
Tuesday, again, I had a good day. I managed to get a thousand words of my book done, in an hour, and finished a difficult chapter. But I wasn't feeling too well. I have had a cyst on my nose for the past three years. Most of the time, it's tiny, and you can't actually see it, but over the last few days it's began to grow. It's like it's got a life of it's own. Anyway, because of where it is, which is near the bridge of my nose, I can't wear my glasses at the moment, because it hurts. So, why don't I get it removed, I hear you ask. Simple. I did try to get it removed, I got gowned up for the day surgery, until the surgeon turned round and informed me that it couldn't be done. The consultant who reffered me for surgery, had out down that my cyst was on my temple. Not the bridge of my nose. I mean, what sort of idiot doesn't know the difference between the nose, and the temple? Especially someone who is apparently medically trained.
I digress. My sinuses were also beginning to hurt a bit, and by Wednesday morning, it felt like I had full blown flu. Grandparents, again, took the toddler who won't speak, and daughter would be going to school, so I slept and watched chick flicks.
Well no more! It's happy Barnsally from now on!
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