Category Archives: Emotions

Dec 27 2016
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Emotions

New Year, Same Old?

awesomeYep, it’s that time of the year again when I take a notepad and scribble down some resolutions.

Looking back at the ones I’ve made over the years, I might as well just chuck my list in the bin; I still haven’t mastered the art of cooking rice and I haven’t learned how to play the guitar. I’m still single, still fat and still trying to work out what I want to do when I grow up.

Despite all this, I’m going to make some resolutions anyway just for the sheer novelty factor:

  • Experiment with wearing black clothes (slimming) and quirky jewellery (interesting).
  • Borrow my friend’s dog – exercise (gah) but a chance of bumping into a nice single man (note to self, must not be carrying a bag of dog poo).
  • Host dinner parties – with only three kitchen chairs. Perhaps supper parties? Or just skip the food and make some killer cocktails instead? Good chance to showcase black tops and big bead-y jewellery?
  • Come up with a book club choice my book club actually enjoys.
  • Be brave enough to take my laptop to the local arts cafe to work on My Novel, even though it’s not a Mac. Could be awkward. Maybe wear a big hat and dark glasses.
  • Give up any hope of becoming a poet.
  • Buy one of those big eye-shadow palettes and learn how to use it.

Hmm.

Maybe I should concentrate on what I’m grateful for, rather than my shortcomings. I may always be fat. And single. And I may never come up with a book-club-pleasing title. I might never get in to black clothes (I have a cat, she has fur).

So what do I have? A huge amount:

  • A brilliant, funny, intrepid Teenager.
  • A weird, funny cat.
  • A healthy appetite for life and all it has to offer.
  • A fantastic support network – thank you a million times.

As we put the horrendous year that has been 2016 behind us, I’m looking forward, not back.

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Dec 23 2016
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Emotions

A Yuletide Pity Party

grinchI worked yesterday, although I’m sure The Boss wished I hadn’t.

I grinched and grumbled the whole day, threw an almighty strop over a designer radiator and sulked in the van while The Boss gamely measured up our new, muddy building site.

When I got home (after flouncing out the van and nearly breaking an ankle in the process), I collapsed on the sofa, before promptly falling asleep.

Nerve pain, usually kept under semi-strict control with medication, had sneaked past it and was having festive fun dancing with clogs on all over my body. Hard to describe and difficult to ignore, my body was inflamed with the darned pain. After I woke up, I lay still, wishing beyond hope that it would go away.

My stomach grumbled but I couldn’t get up. I passed a few hours like this, intermittently bursting into tears whenever a Christmas charity advert came on TV. The Teenager popped down a couple of times to ferret through the fridge and sneak a few mouthfuls of squirty cream (he denies it, but I know the sound).

Eventually I ate two mince pies without squirty cream, cried a little more and gave the cat some Dreamies before I went to bed. I slept a straight ten hours, virtually unheard of as late as I’ve also been plagued by the scariest, most bizarre nightmares. Anyway, I got up, fell on to the sofa and lay there pitying myself a bit more and watched the news about Storm Barbara (Really? Do you know how many jokes I’ve had?).

So I sulked about the storm’s name and the nerve pain cranking up again. I sulked about there being nothing on TV. I sulked when I found out The Teenager had demolished the rest of the mince pies. And then, A Christmas Miracle.

The Boss texted me. He was going to Ikea and would I like to join him? Well, I could just as easily sulk in Ikea as at home – and have more reason to – so I went. Best. Cure. Ever.

It was blissfully quiet, I got to stock up on candles and had a leisurely coffee while watching harassed parents attempt to control their over-excited toddlers. Been there, done that. Nerve pain? Still thrumming away, still painful, but with the company of a good friend and a change of scenery, just about manageable.

This lull allowed me to reflect on how lucky I am to have you guys to offload to, to grumble to and to feel part of a larger group of good mates. I love your comments and your emails and who knows what my fifth year of blogging will bring?

p.s. If I hear, ‘Barbara’s going to be very windy’ one more time, I’ll cry again …

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Dec 12 2016
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Emotions

I Am MS

meI used to boast, ‘I have MS but it doesn’t have me.’ (it did)

Or, ‘MS is just a small part of my life.’ (it wasn’t)

As if I could simply package MS up and place it to one side.

It’s taken over four years to realise I was wrong, and it’s not often I admit that.

MS drives everything I do and is at the heart of how I live my life; it’s like a little spluttering train engine, tootling along, breaking down frequently but being patched up again by a team of trusty experts before bumbling on its way again.

This epiphany came to me a week ago. The Teenager was out with friends. My landline rang at 3.30 am. As I made my way downstairs to answer it, I was weak with fear. A call at that time could only mean one thing and it couldn’t be good?

I hesitated before picking up. Then. Relief flooded through me as I heard, ‘Muuuuuuum!!! Hiya!! Phone’s dead. I left my key inside. I’m at the front door, and I need the loo. Can you let me in?’

After I yelled at him and settled back in bed, listening to him humming as he brushed his teeth, I realised that I never switch off the Mother role. Why would I? It’s the best of times and the worst of times but it runs through my veins and always will. And it’s probably why my own mum still grabs my hand when we cross the road, even though I’m in my 40’s.

I chuckle (not in a bad way) when I hear newly-pregnant couples say, ‘oh this baby won’t change our lives – it will fit in around us.’ Right. Get back to me on that one?

MS is similar  – it has permeated everything by osmosis. At first, granted – unlike a baby – it was the Arch Enemy and had to be repelled at all borders. And, just as it had cunningly invaded my blood-brain barrier designed to keep it out, MS wormed it’s way into my consciousness, not to mention health. And before long, it was part of day-to-day life.

On the negative side, in the beginning and being the Enemy, it took my partner, job and my envisaged future. Were they worth fighting for? Probably not, given the circumstances of my banishment – being dumped/sacked/deluded, in that order.

However, on the positive side, MS has allowed me to pursue a life-long dream – writing. It’s given me the chance to renegotiate working hours with my new boss, which also, and more importantly, allow me more time to be on hand for The Teenager, even if I’m lying on the sofa. I’m here, and that’s what matters. Some of our best chats happen when he sits on the sofa opposite me, offloading, nattering away.

I am now proud to say ‘I Am MS’. By overturning negative connotations (even when we cannot yet eradicate the illness), we can stand up and say, ‘Yeah, so, I have MS? And?’

‘I Am MS’ does not mean surrendering. It means embracing. It is not giving up, it is about nurturing a new way of life. To those of you who may think I am indeed deluded, there is nothing that drives me more than the thought of my passionate, cheeky, irreverent father, who, if he had survived his MS, would definitely be the one chained to Parliament’s railings in protest.

I’m far too shy to do that. But what I can do is accept MS, live with it, thrive with it and hopefully, become a better person.

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Nov 24 2016
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Emotions

Reframing The ‘F’ Word …

fattyIt’s weird.

I’m more likely to define myself as ‘fat’ than as ‘living with MS’.

Huh?

I’ve struggled with weight gain since I was diagnosed back in 2012 – through a combination of medication, thyroid, stress and comfort eating.

I’m not going to lie, I put my chubby hands up to the last one.

I had a wonderful conversation with a friend on Monday and mentioned that I tell everyone I’m fat, almost as a matter of course. Why do I do this? I mean, they can see it; I probably fill their entire periphery vision in one fell swoop. I’m kinda hard to miss.

She asked me why I did this and I really had no explanation other than I’m so unused to being this size – I’m the biggest I’ve ever been – it’s almost a novelty. A curiosity. To use an unfortunate phrase, is it about getting the elephant in the room out the way?

MS is such a ‘normal’ part of my life now, but being this size isn’t.

I’ve tried to embrace this new body, but found out I really didn’t want to. And I don’t understand this. I’ve met incredible women over the years, through my travels and in the UK, who were far larger than me but happier. Celebrating and indulging wholeheartedly in life in a way I can’t imagine.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not unhappy, just miffed. More so as I have beautiful clothes hanging in my wardrobe that look a bit silly on me. But do they? Maybe I should stand a bit taller in the mirror and not give a damn about the spare tyre(s) and let my character, my inner essence, do the talking? Isn’t that what life is all about?

I watched an eye-opening episode of ‘First Dates’ this morning (I’m always up early and have ages to fill before work). There was a lovely guy, a tailor on Savile Row. He’d lost a lot of weight a couple of years before but was still conscious and a little overweight. The date went well although he mentioned his weight at every opportunity and you could see his lack of self esteem.

The result? His date thought he was wonderful, but his confidence issues were a turn off.

A great insight. But it got me worried about my potential dating advert, which was already dire:

40-something, divorced, one Teenager, one cat, have an incurable progressive illness – WLTM similar

And fat?

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Nov 07 2016
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Emotions

Can’t Stop The Music …

grumpyI quite liked music before MS came along.

Even during the diagnostic process, I spent countless evenings with the ‘Bridget Jones’ soundtrack up full blast – crying and snivelling into my wine and family-sized bag of Wotsits.

If a song mentioned the word ‘alone’, I played it.

It’s only four years after my diagnosis that I can admit to you guys that Barry Manilow and Gilbert O’Sullivan were on my playlist.

Now, I can’t bear music. I’ve switched permanently to Radio 4 and have grown to love it, although I turn off whenever ‘Desert Island Discs’ comes on, pesky programme. TV dramas are a nightmare as I have to turn the sound down if there’s an emotional scene set to music.

I don’t know why this is – I get that MS can play havoc with your emotions, but music?

So I have a bit of a problem. Working on a building site equals bacon butties, builder’s tea and … music. All. The. Time. There’s a bit of a battle with the radio depending on who’s in first. If it’s the baby-faced labourer, it’ll be Kiss FM. He especially loves ‘Kisstory’ – ‘the best old skool and anthems’, which is sad as the songs are from my youth and I am not that old. Honestly.

If it’s our more mature builder, it’s Smooth Radio, which is particularly painful; sad classic pop song after sad classic pop song. And what’s worse, the builder sings along to every single one of them, and if The Boss is in too, all I hear is, ‘classic song, mate, classic.’

Now it’s That Time Of Year, I live in dread of The Boss taking over the radio. I can never forget two years ago when he subjected me to seven weeks of Smooth Christmas. Christmas songs and only Christmas songs all day long. It was horrific. And traumatic. Incredibly, when I sidled up to the client and said, ‘hey, so sorry about this music, how about I change the channel? There’s a great play on Radio 4?’ she said, ‘oh, I love it! So Christmassy! Don’t change it over.’

Even at home there’s no escape – The Teenager has a deep and enduring love of music. I totally blame myself; I took heed of the so-called baby ‘experts’ and played all sorts of music when I was pregnant, from Chopin to Showoddywaddy, to help his tiny neurons along.

Mind you, sometimes it’s handy as I can gauge his emotions, depending on which music resounds around our tiny house. He’s struggling a little with a huge pile of homework right now, so, perhaps fittingly, his choice last night was ‘Yesterday’ by The Beatles.

If I did listen to music, I’d play ‘I Can’t Stand It’ by Velvet Underground.

Old Skool?

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