Phone interviews suck. I don't know what it is about it, but there's just something about it that I can't quite hack. I'm glad I could spend my summer not applying for jobs, I was extremely lucky tbh, cause this sucks so much. I'm so much better at face to face interviews. But alas.
I've been writing poetry in my head all day, and it's a really weird feeling because I used to write poetry in my head all the time, but it came to an abrupt stop sometime last year. It's nice, but strange. I keep on finding myself talking out loud, so it's probably a good thing that Michael is at work. I'm finding it really hard to write this blog today, I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I mean I'm exhausted and there's like an electric current of stress circling my body, but my brain is pretty much there. I'm probably just lacking energy, it has after all been a bloody long day. There's no amount of tea that could make it better either tbh. I'm going to try and actually write down some poetry and edit it then maybe put it up on this blog. It's been so bloody long since I've shown my poetry. I'm tired of not expressing myself. I'm tired feeling voiceless.
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Periods. They're the bane of my existence right now, and probably will be for a while. Here's my experience of them;
I started when I was 13, I think, a little later than other girls in my class, but I was okay with that. I started off with mild pain, and it never got into a rhythm, I'd miss months, I'd have extremely heavy periods then periods of just pain and a tiny bit of blood. Human bodies are weird like that. I got used to it though, then it started getting worse, I started feeling what I could only describe as 'snakes in my stomach', I'd be collapsing against counters and trying to serve customers in my part time job. It sucked. It really sucked. Gradually the pain began to get worse, throughout uni I suffered countless weeks under the effects of both period pain and depression. Suicidal thoughts and periods don't mix very well. My ex never cared much for me when I was on my period, I'd grown to look after myself, sending emails to lecturers explaining that I wouldn't be in their seminar today because of personal issues, whilst I was curled up trying to not breathe because breathing hurts. I tried to claw out my stomach once, because any other pain would be easier to deal with, and I remember afterwards staring at my stomach with tears on my face, unable to believe that I had caused those red lines that remained for a considerable amount of time. My housemate took me to hospital once because I started screaming, I couldn't stop, I had blacked out in the shower and when I became aware of what was happening I crawled upstairs in my towel and lay on my bed, the pain got worse steadily and I started crying out for help. My housemate got her friend to drive us to hospital and I tried to get in contact with my then-boyfriend, I called, text, wished he'd look at his phone - I knew he was in a seminar but when your girlfriend calls you and messages you about ten times and her housemate does the same...you answer. Anyway, I got into hospital and the pain began to fade. I saw a doctor and a nurse. It turns out I was iron anaemic, but that wasn't the root of the problem. I was booked in for a ultrasound and that was the end of that. I never actually managed to get my results back, because the hospital sent me on a wild goose chase around the country and it got stupid and I figured if it was bad they'd send a more pressing letter. They never sent another letter. I moved house for my third year, and the problem just got worse. There were other stresses happening at the time, like there always seemed to be during university (I had such a shitty university experience good fucking lord), and it just seemed to add to the pain. Paracetamol and Ibuprofen stopped working, I'd take as many as I was allowed to but my body seemed to just ignore the pain relief and it became worse. I'd noticed that stress was definitely a factor in my pain, but sometimes it really wasn't, I know I've got an issue with background stresses but it couldn't just be that, right? I'm in the process of booking an appointment at my current GP, because I can't deal with this. It's not fair. Last month, I went to Alton Towers with my boyfriend and his family, I'd known my period was coming but stress pushed it back, made it a week late and it just so happened to fall on the day that we went to Alton Towers, there quite literally couldn't have been a worse day. Anyway, I started feeling pain in the car, and hid it because I wanted my boyfriend to have a good time with his family and not worry about me (he does that too much), besides I was suffering with motion sickness at the time too, I was able to hide the pain behind that. We arrived at Alton Towers, and I knew it was going to get worse, much worse, I took four pills (two Paracetamol and two Ibuprofen), and shook off the pain in the bathroom stall. It started when we were in line, I was eating a cookie because I'd suddenly felt absolutely starving (probably because I'd missed breakfast in favour of feeling slightly sick), I was about three bites through the cookie when my vision suddenly began to go white and my legs went weak. I felt like I was going to throw up, I felt like I was dying, I leaned on Michael and he asked if I was okay, I don't remember being able to speak though. He sat me down on the floor and his sister got me a drink, I was dizzy and uncomfortable in my skin and feeling like shit because I realised I was about to ruin their day. We moved through the line, I'd stand, then sit again, until we got through and they searched our bags and we were actually in the theme park. It got so much worse then, and I remember feeling clammy and cold and the pain felt like someone had just put their hand through my stomach and tugged on my internal organs. I was asked if I wanted to sit on a bench or go to the medical center, I said the latter through clenched teeth and in the smallest voice I didn't think I had. I don't really remember getting there, but I was placed on fake leather seats and two emergency staff came over and I couldn't tell what they were saying because I was trying to keep my insides inside my stomach. I felt awful for ruining everyone's day. But the staff took me gently over to the beds and told me to lie down, Michael's mum took off my shoes and the staff asked if I wanted a cup of tea. I was given heat packs and Michael kissed my forehead. The pain wasn't decreasing though, but I pushed Michael and his sister to go on rides, his mum said she'd stay with me. I kept apologising to her, in a delirious, shy and scared way. I couldn't stop. The pain stopped after half an hour, or at least calmed down enough for me to profusely thank the staff for looking after me and thank Michael's mum. The emergency staff at Alton Towers were lovely, I really hold them in high regard, period pain isn't taken seriously by some people but they were very caring and kind when I needed it most. I hate my period. It doesn't make me stronger. It makes me weaker. I was terrified about this months period, worried that I'd be in the same position of unbearable pain. This month wasn't as bad as the last month. I was out for the count for two days (yesterday and the day before) but other than that, it's been...bearable. I've not woken up screaming in the dead of night, which has happened more times than I can count by the way, so I haven't been disturbing neighbours or Michael's sleep. This is me being brave. Sharing this experience of this part of my life is kind of personal, but I think I needed to, I've been wanting to write poetry about my experience - I've been told I'm excellent at writing about pain. Haha. I don't know if anyone reads through this blog, but if you've had a similar experience of a shitty period feel free to comment below, I'd be happy to discuss methods of halting the pain. There's more stuff I haven't mentioned, but I'm tired and my stomach is hurting again. Hope everyone is well. Today's been a tough'un, because sleep really fucking sucked last night. I ended up having a nightmare and waking up at 6am feeling like the world had just imploded in my face. I'm lucky though, because Michael wasn't annoyed at me for waking him up even though he's been working his ass off these past three weeks, he just cuddled me back to sleep because I was in such a state of hollowness that there kinda wasn't anything else he could do. It worked though. But I've been suffering from a god awful migraine all day, it gets better then it gets worse and it's just been rollercoastering through my head all bloody day long and it's a nightmare in itself.
I did, however, manage to apply for another job (I'm getting better at it now), so, fingers crossed Halfords want me... So, I'm proud of myself for that, cause it would have been so easy to just say y'know what I feel like shit I can't be bothered but I persevered and I'm sitting here now holding my forehead and squinting at the screen just so I can write this out. I want to write every day if I can, just cause it's making me feel better, it's releasing bad vibes and just letting them escape into the ethos. Going completely off topic now, I've been reading a lot of fanfiction lately, mostly Teen Wolf stuff (Sterek), and like, it's been making me want to start writing prose again. It's so bloody nice to reconnect to that younger version of myself, I missed her. Like, this hobby I guess, it's healthy right now for me, it's good for me, I struggled to occupy myself before and I'd get bored very quickly of things that I tried to keep me occupied. But this...for some reason has stayed with me. I think it's because I see myself in Stiles' character, he's a little lost, he has panic attacks and he's always blaming himself for things that aren't his fault and there are so many other things that make his character readable and loveable. Dylan O'Brian plays him exceptionally well, I can't fault him for that. I'm going to hopefully start working on the girls' room/guest room soon, that's going to be a really exciting and rewarding project :) they're going to love it. It was going to be the boys room, but Michael and I discussed it and neither of us can stand to not sleep in the same room as them anymore, and I think they'd be the same tbh. Chekov needs his mama. I'm getting better. Today was better. I think. I feel better right now anyway and that's good, that's a start. There's hope yet. Stay safe. Chekov (below) wishes you all the best. I've been listening to a lot of Linkin Park lately, it kind of goes with the territory with me when I'm feeling like hell. Michael always says I'm too easily affected by music. It's just...when you listen to their newest album and then think about what happened to Chester in May, like it's difficult to still see the light at the end. Linkin Park were a massive influence on me growing up, I think I started listening to them through my older brothers wall when he'd play them too loud, then when I hit my teens I got interested and invested. So, it's really...heartbreaking to see that video that Talinda Bennington posted, (Chester's wife), of Chester laughing and having fun with his family just hours before taking his life, like shit it hits somewhere deep.
I think a lot of perspectives on depression have changed since that video surfaced, because depression is a chemical imbalance, it's not just another 'low', it's not 'you're just sad, everyone gets sad', it's I can't breathe because my own voice is telling me I'm not good enough, telling me it'd be better for everyone if I died, telling me that Michael would be happier with someone else...and so on. Then it's laughing, crying with laughter, being proud of my fur babies for their progress. It's complicated and shitty and it's something I've been trying so hard to work on since I turned 14. I'm 21 now. Today was a better day in some ways, in some ways it was worse. I spoke with my mum, and it was nice and actually a relief to speak to her, it's been a few weeks (I think), since we'd last spoken. We spoke about a lot of stuff, and I realised whilst talking to mum about my health that I felt like I was in a jellied state of motion. I can't tell the passing of time anymore, hence above being unsure when the last time I spoke to mum was, I'm just kind of desperate to find a job so I can keep up something as simple as knowing the day and date. And people. Let's face it, I have no friends, uni friends haven't really translated to real life, I never had many friends in uni anyway, even less in my third year, god that fucking sucked. I'm worried I'm going to spend my life in some kind of perpetual loop of friendlessness. It's a scary thought. I've just got to make the first leap though, soon enough I have to. But. Keep the fight going. Just keep going. That's all I have to do. Pick my feet up and carry on walking. If not for myself then for my family, the love of my life and my fur babies. I'm lucky, I'm so lucky I just need to remember that. Stay safe out there kiddos, it's a cruel world but at least we have pets. Today has been...a day.
My boyfriend left for work at half two, and won't be back until half ten, without him around life is a little more...agonising. I've spent the day applying for jobs and playing Warframe, and getting stressed out of my mind. Applications are hard, and it feels like I'm not qualified for anything, but it's okay - I have to keep telling myself it's okay, because at the end of the day any job is okay - I want to end up working with animals and everything I do is a step towards that. I just need to remember that. I can't tell if I feel better or worse for opening up and writing in my blog again, it's kind of scary knowing any one could be reading this. I wish I had the energy to clean the house, but it's really quite difficult to motivate myself when I feel like hell nearly all the time, heck, sometimes I don't even have the motivation for a cup of tea. I think...once I get a job, I'll settle more into myself again, it's just right now it's too easy to become insular and separate - for example I don't really have any friends. Not really, I find it difficult and energy draining to keep up contact and even though I've been living in Morecambe for three months now I still haven't made any friends. That'll come with a job, I'm sure. But still. It's a pretty isolated life. Just myself, my boyfriend and our four furry babies. Sometimes the loneliness makes me feel suicidal, sometimes it makes me feel safe. At the end of the day, I'm just glad that when my boyfriend says he loves me, he means it. Otherwise, I'd probably be long gone. This has been a pretty morbid post, sorry about that. Hopefully tomorrow will be a different day. Always love yourself. Peace. So I guess it's been a while, huh. I've been good and I've been bad, I decided I should try and sort this blog out once and for all.
I don't want to gush out my life story, I'm too paranoid for that to happen, but fucking hell so much has happened since I started university, which by the way, fun fact - I moved into Aberystwyth on this day four years ago. It's scary, thinking back on everything, that's four years of my life down the drain, and it's scarier thinking that someone out there is going to go through a very similar experience to me. Like, I can't wrap my head around it, I'm scared for all of those people who are going to feel utterly alone and those people who are going to feel useless and suicidal and crap. But that's where I'm going to stop myself, I've already had a panic attack today - thinking back on that stuff does no one any good. My boys are rattling around and Chekov's watching me, we have a special connection and he's like an emotional support animal for me, bless him. I've been having full on panic attacks and he's completely calmed me down by cuddling up to my tummy. I applied for a job today, just an office admin/receptionist job, but still I'm proud of myself. It's nice having Michael offering encouragement from the sidelines, I never thought I'd be lucky enough to fall in love and be equally loved by a guy like him. Well I mean, that's the thing, there is no one else like him. He's perfect for me, beautiful and caring and everything I could ever need. I'm going to try and get better at this blog writing thing, maybe set up a recipe side to it because I've found that that really helps my anxiety. Anyway, peace. |
AuthorFrancesca, studied English & Creative Writing BA Hons. Gamer and poet. Socially anxious. ArchivesCategories |