ramblings from a vague mind

I had plans for today, but as so often, the ‘meh’ won.

I always underestimate how much the dance competitions take out of me- the sitting, the noise, the boredom, the polite- and the events come in twos (different age groups), approx 6 hours at a time. The rest of the week is a bit of a flop after that.

found at:http://themetapicture.com/im-a-true-survivor/

The G8 circus has been and gone. They were supposed to be tackling world hunger and the war in Syria. Dave tweeted the dinner menu, because he’s crass like that. They came up with a Lough Erne Declaration and signed it, which means they take it really seriously. Or something. The very heavy security took good care of the handful of protestors- taking snaps and bringing coffee to the handful of tents in the ‘village’. Ah, sure aren’t we all great. Be glad my mind is fogged; there’s a rant in there somewhere, by the time I work it out the moment will have passed and you’ll have been spared.

At the weekend, we saw pictures of a woman being assaulted in public by her husband. They are both high profile figures. He is a very wealthy art collector; she is a food writer and tv chef. Their fame makes the incident fodder for media gossip. “She should…” “She must…” “She needs to…” He accepted a police caution to make the matter go away. Despite that, nowhere have I seen or heard “He should/ must/needs to…” Good old victim blaming and misogyny- they haven’t gone away you know.

I will need to be alert and awake and full of beans on Friday, however- I have to pretend to be a grown up and wave a smiley farewell to Girl1 as she heads off to the Gaeltacht for 12 days of fun and games hard work and speaking only Irish.

Coherent thoughts will return as soon as possible.

Stop laughing.

each and every blade of grass

While one of us feel a bit like a vegetable these days, another is investigating all the vegetation. Every single bit.

Now the calendar and the weather seem to have reached a vague agreement on Spring, Jake’s enthusiastic sniffing has taken on new vigour. It’s not just soft greeny brown stuff- it’s grass. In different shapes and sizes. There are weeds. Everything is smelling. Everything is growing. There is even, oh joy, cut grass.

And all of it needs to be examined in some detail.

Especially the daffodils. The beautiful daffodils. Sorry, daffodils.

Sniff, sniff, sniff.

Step about. Sniffing some more, and squashing.

Wee. Another bit.

Wipe feet, throwing mud all over the daffodils.

Exhausted, over stimulated, we return home for a sleep.

Busy times.

image from here

placebos and quackery

ME dominates my life. It impacts on every decision I make, or whether I am able to make a decision at all. If I rest now, can I do that later? Will I be able to get a seat? Will I have to talk to people? It’s been a long time since I’ve actually read a newspaper, rather than just looking at the pictures.

I am constantly fatigued, my brain feels like mush. I have regular muscular pain, sore throat, sore head. I have a walking stick. I potter along, but some days even turning in the bed is a challenge. When opening both eyes is too much to expect, I’ll not be getting up any time soon.

ME dominates all our lives- my children think nothing of a parent in bed when they come home from school, or having to make sure I’m awake before they go. Spurs Fan does most of the supermarket shopping because I can’t think, or process, or cope with crowds of people.

I keep wanting us to get a second car, but really, driving exhausts me so much that we needn’t bother our heads. Bundles of important looking post can sit about unopened for too long while I can’t begin to imagine how to deal with the possible contents. I’m always baffled by children needing to eat, or even more grubby clothes. Did I not put on a wash yesterday? Last week I genuinely couldn’t tell whether the kettle was switched on or not (think of all the clues- noise, light, location of switch. No, no idea) and simply shrugged and left it for another while.

Every morning, along with the anti mad tablets, I down a handful of food supplements. Omega this, Vitamin that, co enzyme the other. I do feel that these help a little. If I’m fooling myself that’s grand. I’ve tried plenty of the ‘energising’, ‘vitalising’ products out there and know that most have no impact on me whatsoever, so I’ll stick with those that haven’t disappointed me yet.

I’ll try things if there’s a possibility they’ll help me feel better. I suppose I’m vulnerable, but when there are no ‘medical’ treatments available, it seems like anything is worth a go. I’m not going to pay thousands of pounds for mystery interventions, but CBT, pacing and resting haven’t brought me back to myself either. I don’t expect to ever have the level of energy I used to have, but I’d like to less debilitated.

I met someone at a conference who uses an ME ‘remedy’. He’s back at work, his demanding work. He drives hundreds of miles a week, takes exercise and is still coherent enough to spend time with his family. Had he been at a stand, selling a ‘cure’ I’d have ignored him. As it was, we were in the food queue and got to chatting about all sorts before he mentioned his own rare disease, ’best described as a bit like ME’. I wasn’t wearing an ME label. I don’t think my health condition is displayed in a neon sign over my head. I wasn’t using the stick that day. He couldn’t have known to ‘target’ me. He’s worked with some of my colleagues, and seems to be a genuine chap. I took the decision to try it out. (Stop laughing at me! All my decisions are made through and because of my ME addled mind.)

So, a month later, I’ve remembered to get some of the ‘remedy’. It could be a huge con. I could easily be being fooled out of the £7.50 for a sample pack. I’m trying not to be too hopeful, but I’ll let you know how I get on.

I’d so love to be able to think again.

image from The Quack Doctor

Saturday afternoon

Plans? Pah! I laugh in the face of plans. My life is too exciting to fit in with mere plans. Spontaneity is the name of the game round here. Why would I do what I’d planned when I got a better offer?

You guessed it: I went to bed rather than taking the dog for a walk. Beat that, planners.

However, it is not always the case that going to bed to rest in the afternoon will mean that sleep follows. Especially at the weekend, when the house is filled with Girls. (There are only two of them, but they fill a house.)

Yesterday, while in bed, I did the following

• listened to reading
• bought things from Girl2′s shop
• minded the shop when she was away
• helped with the design of an ATM for the shop
• agreed that making more money was the way to get people to spend more (quantitative easing comes naturally to 9 year olds)
• discussed style issues- tuck in the top or not? Not, we agreed.
• dozed, briefly.
• considered a government consultation paper I’m commenting on. My colleagues have produced a humdinger of a response. Sadly, with my brain being in one of its vague, floaty moods, I’m struggling a bit. Thank all gods for smart, awake, fellow volunteers.
• wondered about getting up to fetch pain killers.
• failed to do be fit to do that.

Eventually I made it to the real world, ate us out of house and home, and took Jake for a shorter than expected walk. I spent the rest of the evening beside the fire, with a glass of wine.

That bit was planned.