Mental Health, Musings

I’m not one for drama… but….

April 28, 2017

As I sat in a friend’s kitchen crying this week over a million problems that had combined to floor me, she commented that drama seemed to follow me. ‘Do you think I’m a drama queen?‘ I asked, mortified. ‘No’, she said, ‘I genuinely thing that drama seeks you out and that you definitely don’t want or need it.’

This was from Rebecca, a girl that started as my childminder back when I was in the shit of it with a nine month old, a two year old and a five year old…. we are now good friends and even though she is 18 years younger than me, she is wise beyond her years.

So.. let’s see, in the time that she has known me (4 years)… She has helped out as my baby had a cranial vault remodelling (as bad as it sounds) at a year old. She looked after my youngest when I was in hospital for a week having a different part of my body remodelled.

The brakes failed on my car a couple of years ago coming into Ashbourne and I ended up on top of the roundabout… thinking I was dead with two of the kids in the car. We got away with minor injuries, considering, but I am a very nervous driver to this day. If you pass me on the road.. which you will as I drive well within the limits.. don’t laugh at my straight- backed- posture and holding in a poo face (the odds are, I am holding in a poo.. but this is also my driving face).

I was mugged in December.. yep a proper mugging. Myself and my neighbour were on our way home from a meal out with the girls and a car pulled up beside us and two hooded junkies hopped out. Do you know what they said? ‘girls yiz are about to be mugged’.

They wrestled our bags from us and threw us to the ground and sped off. They got my brand new upgrade, and my wallet… with ALL my cards, including drivers licence… same as my neighbour. It was shocking… so shocking that we both wet ourselves (any excuse) and then had to waddle to the police station to make statements. Oh and my neighbour had gotten chips, which the fuckers also took. The police put the incident on a local facebook page and it did read rather dramatically and when I told Rebecca it was me, she said she should have known.

She rang the other day to say she was visiting so I decided I’d better get off the bed and stop playing Fallout Shelter (do not download this.. it is beyond addictive). I grabbed three half full (I’m an optimist) glasses of water and made my way down the stairs. My slipper went from under me and in my panic I elbowed a framed picture of the boys, shattering it and cutting myself. I hit 3 steps with my arse and the waters flew in the air, splattering me (mainly my crotch.. but I swear I didn’t wet myself this time). Koray heard the scream and came out to enquire what the google play password was. ‘I can’t give it to you as I’ve broken my back and the last time your brother bought 900 gems for Hungry Shark Evolution that cost €42.99 .. now go find the ibuprofen for mammy.’

Ossie arrived home to me standing at the door with a tea towel on my elbow and reeking of Deep Heat. ‘Don’t you fucking dare hurt yourself’ he said ‘or I’m staying in the hospital with you’… not words of love but terror at being left alone with the kids.

I had my wisdom tooth out in February.. of course it was growing horizontal under the gum and she had to really dig for it. I ended up with a dry socket and if anyone has had one of these packed… you know pain. I ploughed through pain killers and I was swollen, bruised and miserable.. the other impacted wisdom tooth has started to hurt and it can fuck right off.

I’m depressed.. I’ve come off sertraline as it was making me dopier than usual and am about to embark on lexapro. I went to the doctor yesterday and she said ‘girl you better try to have fun no matter what you do‘.. but she’s a fool. No, she’s lovely and I cried and said.. ‘see.. see, this keeps happening, it’s so fucking embarrassing’. I explained a difficult work situation I’m having and problems a member of my family is having (sorry to be mysterious but I’d be in further trouble if I discussed the former problem as freedom of speech is not very well respected there and the latter is not my problem to discuss). So when I was done bawling with the doctor, I’d to go have a smear with the nurse. The nurse turned out to be a lady I know well, her boys are in the same school as mine and she is super nice; it didn’t make it any easier to show her my fanny and I felt I had to preempt with the procedures I’d had done in case she got a fright. I’m not saying my fanny has a Frankenstein appearance but I have never looked at it with a speculum. She asked how everything was and I put on my Aisling mask and smiled and joked as if all was right with the world and it was only on going to the bathroom directly afterwards that I noticed mascara had streamed down my face. I also realise now that I gave said nurse my blog details and she may read this… sorry but I was sad and didn’t want to share my misery and you are lovely and you have a gentle smear technique.

My husband has recently started training as he was morphing into quite the fat bastard.. there is gym equipment everywhere, competing for space with lego and he looks really good so I’ve asked him to help me; I haven’t been this big since I was pregnant. He is very strict and as I’m doing weights he tuts and exclaims that I’m really bad and he’s never seen such low muscle tone while grabbing at my bat wings or back fat. Then when I get something right he says ‘good girl’ like Georgie Burgess. I channel my homicidal feelings into the workout so I should be like 1980s Jane Fonda (I’d even settle for now Jane Fonda) in a few weeks.

I almost forgot The Cat… people up the road moved out leaving approx 9 very young cats behind. Along with some other neighbours, I’ve been minding them and managed to get all neutered.. not easy to catch a wild cat. Anyway I was feeling like the Mother Teresa (I know she was actually horrible… can i get suggestions for a new go-to-good-person please?) of the cat world. That was until I backed over one in my driveway… ugghh it was awful.. the crunch, the screams. I stared out the window in silent horror as the poor kitty flailed about the driveway spraying blood like  a Quentin Tarantino movie. The other kitties stood next to him and stared at me in silent loathing. I got out of the car and ran in a circle for awhile till I spotted a lady walking up the street. I lunged at her bawling and thankfully she was calm and had some Slavic stoicism. She asked for a black bag.. ‘but he’s not dead‘ I shouted. ‘He vill be soon’ she said pulling up her sleeves. I ran for the black bags and she shouted ‘we vill need two’. She bagged up the unfortunate cat and left him by my bins. She washed her hands and gave me her card.. she’s a manicurist and had spotted the state of my nails. I would later drop her in an Aldi number 1 candle and some flowers. When Ossie woke up that day I told him there was a body in the boot and the car was covered in blood and he dealt with it all a little too professionally. It was awful and I still can’t process that I’ve taken a life.. let’s not include spiders or flies in this… or wasps. I even became vegetarian for 3 full days. I still have four cats.. they let me feed them but won’t tolerate my touch.. grudgey bastards.

Now, you’re all up to date.. no drama to see here.. move along.

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