Tuesday, 25 March 2014

Altruism or, I am not crazy (honest).

I believe in giving. Not just at Christmas or on Birthdays, but always. Always giving. I also believe that help is help and it is as simple as that, and I want to be remembered for being a helpful, kind and giving person.

This ranges from helping clients at work, swapping the odd shift to help a colleague out, loaning money to family members when they are short at the end of the month and simply smiling at people, because they don't deserve to be subjected to my miserable face.

I also know when I need help, I expect help, and I probably shouldn't. After all the gift of giving is free. We freely give to others and shouldn't expect anything in return.

So when my crazy comes, as it did like a freight train with the last full moon, I know it will lift and just have to mosey on through it as best as I can.

But when it doesn't lift and it starts to become a little bit scary, I begin to need help.

In the past, my parents (my dad) has always found a way to lift me out of these crazies. Ususally at detriment to himself. But he is my dad and he will always give to me, whatever it costs.

Now, being married, the onus of this falls on my husband and I really don't think he knows or understands just how big a responsibility he has being married to me. When I get to the point that I am at now, it quickly spirals downwards into a hellish sort of nightmare and I need him to pull me out. But he never ever does.

He thinks my behaviour at this time is a choice. That if I didn't want to feel this way, I simply wouldn't feel this way. He has zero understanding that I CANNOT lift myself up and out of this hole, that he needs to reach down and pull me up and that what he sees while he is reaching for me, may well cost him something of himself.

Just like it cost me to become his wife.

It's in these times that regular feelings are intensified, so worry becomes an actual demon in my head and I swiftly become panicked, alarmed and at times, hysterical. So when he comes home two hours late without so much as a text to let me know he will be late, and is not lying in several pieces on the motorway, I can't be relieved, I can't be happy or content or anything positive because as far as I am concerned, he let me get like that on purpose.

He doesn't care.*

Something as small as that turns into a fight that lasts for days and then before I know it I'm exhausted from trying to claw my way out of this hole and I really don't care if I stay in it anymore.

But he really dislikes that version of me, the lifeless listless version of me that doesn't care, starts taking risks and doing stupid things to test my limitations. The version of me with such complete opposite behaviourisms that I'm quite literally a different person.

I feel like it's only the badness in me that is allowed to walk freely from the crazy and that if I want the goodness to be released I have to sacrifice something. I have to sacrifice part of me. It's like playing marbles with the school bully. You know you'll come away with less and you have no choice but to play. In the past I sacrificed my sewing, which is why it's painfully difficult for me to even be attempting to sew now, 4 years later.

I want to be normal. I want my husband to want to help me.

*This is an unfair statement as he does care about me, it just feels as though he doesn't when I have the worry demon in my head.

Saturday, 22 March 2014

'When is it your turn?'

I recently read a great article by a lady who doesn't want kids and is sick of being asked when she is going to reproduce. There were parts of that post that really pulled at some heart strings for me and I'm sure for other people. Even though the author's situation was the complete opposite of what I want, she also managed to understand other women's situations, something a lot of people don't think about.

Sometime last year I was out for dinner with some 'friends' and some of the group bought their newborn baby with them. If I'd known they were going to the meal, I would have made my excuses as I knew what was coming. Endless questions of 'when is it your turn?' 'are you broody?' 'when are you two having kids?' thrown at me from all directions. For someone who had, at the time already been trying for a baby for around a year with no luck these questions were a stab in the heart and actually made me cry, which I luckily managed to do with no one noticing! None of these people knew our situation so I suppose you could let them off but as the original article says you really should think before you speak.

When people ask you about your reproduction plans how do they know that person hasn't miscarried last week? It's not something you would tell everyone. How do they know they haven't just been told they can't have kids or have already been trying for years? They don't and it's more than a little ignorant to not think about a person's possible situation before they speak. If there is a couple sat in front of you who have been together 5 years and have no kids, why could this be?! Why do they not have kids? The easy answer is maybe they just aren't ready or haven't even thought about kids or they simply don't want any. But with 1 in 7 couples in the UK having fertility issues there is a very real possibility that the person sat in front of you is probably dreading the question of kids coming up.

We have kept our struggle private from everyone that is not close to us as for one it's no one else's business and the last thing I need is comments like "aren't you pregnant yet?" from ill informed, insensitive people. But I do sometimes wonder if it would be easier if people knew and then maybe they would not keep asking about our plans for children. Then again, knowing these types of people, they would probably ask even more!

I quote from the original article...
"It is time for those who view it as socially appropriate to make comments or jokes about a woman’s plans for child-bearing to understand that it’s not okay. It is also not okay to ask when she’s going to have kids or her reasons why she’s choosing not to. I don’t care who you are — unless you are my husband, doctor, or my best friend of fourteen years, do not ask me or make jokes about my pregnancy status. Or lack thereof. It’s not funny, cute, or kind. In fact, it’s the exact opposite, and depending on whatever my circumstances might be that you likely don’t know about it could be absolutely devastating."

Never a truer word spoken. It's a shame people can't keep their big nosy noses out of other people's business. If you want kids, have them yourself and stop discussing my ovarian activity!

Saturday, 15 March 2014

Goodbye office

As a creative person, I think good inspiration is essential in order to achieve good work.

I get a lot of inspiration from other people and the internet, but when you're surrounded by the same people, views and objects every day, life can get stifling. And you'll start to feel constricted. I did, anyway...

The phone constantly rings and you're surrounded by either an awkward silence or a loud and distracting conversation. It just isn't an environment I enjoy, especially as a writer, who likes to feel immersed in her work.

Distractions are various specimen of livestock laying on the tracks of your train of thought.

White walls and blank pages both stress me out immensely, where is the inspiration in that? All you can focus on is the ticking of the clock. And sure enough, I go crazy and can't focus.

Staring at a computer is just as bad.

Leave the computer and stop breathing in the stale air. It works wonders.

This is why I love being freelance. Aside from short, pre-planned meetings that work around me, I can work from anywhere with a power socket. Once you've tasted this freedom, it's so hard to go back.

Creatives aren't supposed to be imprisoned like that. And I have never had such great feedback on my work since.