family – Page 7 – Honest Lies

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I went home last weekend. Well, I went home on the Thursday before last weekend. I should have blogged sooner but the anti-depressants, or whatever, are still sucking all the energy out of me and its difficult to do just about anything. I’m so tired and so lazy.

Anyway, home.

I went home on Thursday afternoon. My mother picked me up from the station, and we went back home and cooked supper together, and talked. It was surprising how gentle and unheated the conversation was, how nice it was. So often my mother and I have nothing to say, or we can only pick at each other. But we talked easily this time, and we had a pleasant meal together, then we went upstairs to get ready for an evening out – my mother, my sister and I all together to go and see a ballet. A girls night out. The first time in a long, long time that my mother had got to spend with both her daughters. My mother was excited, which made me happy. I was the one who had arranged this, who had listened to me my mother asking to spend more time together and done something about it. I am trying so, so hard to develop a better relationship with my mother- being more patient, being more interested, contacting her more often, even if its just a random text to show her the progress on my cross stitch, or to recommend a book she may like. I’m 22 and it feels stupid that I’m still clinging to the hurt my mother gave to me when I was a teenager. I hurt her too, after all. And now time has passed and its time to let go. It helps of course that I’m not living with my mother – a certain distance between us is helpful, but its important not to let the distance get too great. I am trying to be mature. I can learn to trust and depend on my mother a little bit more.

Anyway, my mother told me how my father had given her a list of things not to say, which made me laugh. I could imagine my father fretting about the evening – knowing how rocky the relationship between us three is, wondering if it were even possible for us to spend several hours together without killing each other.

I had thought about inviting my dad too, almost felt bad about not, but I wanted it to be a girls night. I wanted to give my mother time with her daughters alone. Its important to remember that just as I like getting my parents say, without my sister, they like to get their kids to themselves sometimes. My dad certainly gets my sister and I to himself a lot – we are daddy’s girls all the way. But my mother deserved an evening with her girls. So I did not allow myself to feel too bad.

My sister arrived to come pick us up and she was in a terrible mood which made me nervous. Well, the evening went very well. We went to see Inala, a Zulu ballet with Ladysmith Black Mambazo, and the music and dancing was fantastic, even if the overall message was confusing and unclear. It was very experimental. A great experience though. And we had a good night out. Except for my mother and sister fighting on the way home we got through the evening unscathed and maybe even managed to enjoy each others company. I could tell my mother was happy, and that made me happy. My sister remained in a foul mood which was disappointing, although it being a work night it was probably understandable.

The next day I went hiking with my father, which I really need to get round to writing about. It was very intense but very rewarding. I love going walking with my father.

I was tired and stiff by Saturday, but I had to wake up early as I was going shopping with my sister and for whatever reason my sister, who used to be late for everything, is now pushing for early, on-time starts (she gave my mother and I hell the Thursday night for being 5 minutes late, as if we have not spent years waiting around for her.) After my sisters foul mood on Thursday I was nervous about meeting with her. I admit I was also nervous because I made some personal confessions to her a few weeks back, and I wasn’t sure if it was going to be awkward between us now she knew. It turned out I was worrying for nothing. We had so much fun together, and a very successful shopping trip to boot. We talked practically non-stop and blew through both our budgets, and had a delicious dinner of American diner food. (Is there anything better? I had a hot dog with bacon and BBQ sauce and mayonnaise. And sweet potato fries with the same condiments. So fattening, so good.)

I love being around my sister, and yeah, I loved spending money on myself. I have to spend money though – I’ve long outgrown my old wardrobe and I needed to let myself let go of it. The other week, I took some photos of my old jeans and put them on Ebay – just like that. No hesitation. I cannot go on any longer thinking I’ll fit back into them. I’m bigger now, but healthier and the only way I’ll get smaller is by giving in to my disordered eating. I won’t do that. So I’m getting rid of my old pants and I went out and bought new pants in a significantly larger size – my sister there to reassure me that I looked fine, that I was not fat. I’m glad my sister was there.

My new jeans do look fantastic on me though. I’m not satisfied with my figure, but I’m getting there. I can recognise that having curves isn’t necessary a bad thing, even if its not what I want to be. I shouldn’t get so hung up on what the label says anyway – its how I feel, and how the clothes look on me. My new jeans fit, perfectly. They are larger than what I want but I look good in them. I feel good in them. I also bought some fitted sweaters – too long I’ve been hiding my figure in baggy tops, ashamed. I will try to show off my figure a bit more – and maybe eventually be proud of it.

Come Sunday, I was ready for a day at home and that is mostly what happened. I went to buy groceries with my dad, then my sister came around, and my mom came home from work, and we had a proper Sunday roast all together. There was some bickering, but it still felt great to be around my family. To have all of us be together. It felt a bit like an occasion – we only ever have a roast dinner on Christmas – and so it felt special. Then I had a quiet day with my family, and on Monday I came back, in time for lectures to start on Tuesday.

It’s been a miserable week. After such a great weekend it was more than disappointing to find I’m still not feeling great, the great weekend was a distraction not a cure, and being back at university is not helping. There’s so many people around, and already so much to take in information wise. I’m still behind on my theses. I need to get my act together. It’s October already! But I’ve felt tired and weepy and overwhelmed all week. This week I’ll try again. I was in a good place just before I went home – had set up good habits, begun to take control, and I took several steps back this week. But I can get there again.

“The star, called ‘suffering’, that was shining in your eye, is your city”

This summer has passed quickly. I’ve not been writing anything down. I don’t know where to start or what to say. I started anti-depressants and it has been strange adjusting to them. I started on a low dose and as my serotonin levels adjusted – or whatever happens – I was left feeling numb and detached. Robotic, my doctor described it and I mostly agreed. I did not feel as anxious or as sad but nor could I feel happiness or excitement. Bad and good emotions were gone. Fast forward and I’m on a higher dose and not quite so robotic, but still not quite where I wish I could be. And I’m tired. No matter how much or little I sleep I’m always exhausted and I cannot concentrate. This state I’m in…its no state for blogging. I’m actually not having a bad summer and plenty has happened but I couldn’t find it in me to write any of it down. The first time I was struggling with my mental health I needed to write it down. I’d blog, and I also kept a private written diary for my counselling- I’d write the bad thoughts down, and then I’d process them. In another notebook I’d scribble down what I was feeling, ranting, so emotional that the pen dug in deep, almost cutting the paper, then I’d scribble it out, turn the page black or blue. This time I’m internalising it, I’m thinking a lot, always thinking, but I struggle to express myself. I’ve become very withdrawn.

Nonetheless, this summer hasn’t been bad. I’ve been in a bit of a limbo with things- spending too much time asleep, or wasting time, all my grand plans for university work lying at the roadside. Fairly typical.

I’ve been home a few times. My sister came back from a big holiday so I went home to look at her photos, and I went walking with my dad the following day. Looking at my sister’s photos should have been boring, but I spent most of it curled up resting on my fathers shoulder, and I felt so safe and comfortable and relaxed that it became one of those perfect moments I’ll remember for a long time. I’d only just started antidepressants then, and I did not feel good. Feeling safe and relaxed felt foreign but wonderful. In that moment I also felt loved. Sometimes I feel so alone, I forget that I am precious to my family at least. With both my parents- its easy to tell how amazed and proud they are in regards to the daughters they raised. It must be a strange feeling to see the babies you once had and can still remember so clearly, now grown up into adult woman. Even I look at my sister, who has matured so much, who is so grown up that I struggle- she’s my sister, but she also has her separate life and as she grows older the ratio changes and her separate life grows. I know I need to respect that, but I still remember how it used to be and its hard to let go. Family relations get so strange as you get older. I feel so clingy and burdensome sometimes, I wonder if I should be more independent. I don’t really know how to act around them anymore, where the boundaries have now shifted. It’s just strange.

It was my birthday in July – 22 now. My sister took me to a food festival and we had a grand time stuffing our faces with overpriced food and watching the demonstrations from cooks and bakers. It was good to have my sister to myself for a time. See: above paragraph. That evening we went out to dinner- my parents, my sister and her boyfriend who I invited because it was the polite thing to do, because I thought that was one of the changes to make now we are older. My sister was so happy to hear that I wanted him there that I knew I had been right. But… I was the only single person there, and the only child. I felt so out of place. I couldn’t enjoy myself. Yes, I turned 22. It doesn’t feel much different than 21, although my embarrassment at how childish I am only deepens as I age. I don’t feel like I act as an adult should. I feel naive and inexperienced.

Walking with my dad was as always delightful and improved my mood, at least.

Later, in August, I went home as my cousin had come to visit and spend time with our family – which was awkward, but not too bad. I stuck close to my dad mostly, which made me feel like a bad person, but my cousin is too unfamiliar, and too gregarious for me to feel comfortable. Looking at him, my mother and my sister they looked more like a family than if I were there. Especially my sister and my cousin- they are so similar in looks and personalities it hurt to look at them.

I’m going home again soon. Going to try spend more time with my mother and sister. It seems whenever I go home I mostly hang with my dad. It’s most comfortable, but its not right.

Apart from that, I’ve settled into work quite nicely. I spend my Tuesday afternoons and Friday mornings there now. I’ve taken on the role of health and safety officer – so I test the fire alarms every week and do visual inspections monthly. I’ve been allowed to help with the cashing up. Mostly I shelve and cull books, and occasionally go on the till. Its monotonous work mostly, but I like it – there is something oddly calming about sorting and shelving books. It does make me anxious dealing with the public though- I never seem to have the answers to anyone’s questions, and I mostly fail at small talk. When I’m on the till I can’t meet anyone’s eyes and I have a little script I made for myself. Sometimes, perhaps I’m imagining it, probably am, when I look up from staring at the counter, just briefly, I think I catch bemused glances from the people I serve and it only makes me feel more ashamed. I can’t go on the till too long otherwise I start feeling sick and shaky, my chest tightening, my words starting to run together, even if I’ve taken my anxiety meds. The fact that I can do this though- that I can deal with strangers for 8 hours a week makes me feel good. And I like that it adds a bit of routine to my week- I would probably lose track of the days otherwise.

Of course I’ve also started to learn to drive, which I don’t enjoy, but hopefully the doctor will say its OK to take my anxiety meds whilst driving and then it can improve. My instructor is lovely, but driving itself is still scary and foreign and overwhelming.

I’m trying my best though. To develop outside my degree. I said it before didn’t I. I put so much into university that other things got left behind. But I’m trying now. I’m working, I’m learning to drive, I’m trying very hard to get on with my family. I’m recovering, trying to keep going even though I’m exhausted and the future is uncertain and I’m scared and anxious. I’m trying to get better. I’m trying not to let the fear from stopping me from living.

Even though the fear that its too late never goes away.

Post Title: Epik High - One

“The sky was dark grey, threatening rain, like the inside of my heart.”

I started the new job/volunteering today. Obviously cannot say much but it wasn’t an utter disaster as a part of me was dreading it would be, in fact it went reasonably OK and I now have two shifts next week. I am already nervous about them, of course. I took my betablocker today and I definitely felt glad for that, but I know eventually I’m going to have to not take them, and so I hope I can learn quickly and get comfortable. Right now its all unfamiliar, there’s lots of rules and procedures, and its quite overwhelming. I tried my best though, and I tried to be friendly and polite, so hopefully I made a good impression. I don’t think you can be fired from volunteering, but I’m sure you can be asked politely to leave. I don’t want that to happen. I realised today that if I could get settled in, I could probably enjoy working there. I want to do well.

I came home from working pretty tired out and hungry. Later my father phoned and asked me to come home this weekend. I thought about it but it didn’t take me long to realise I don’t really want to go home right now. I am enjoying living alone, I am becoming comfortable with my new weight as I continue to develop better eating habits, I am developing good habits in other aspects… I fear that going home will be a Setback and will have some rather adverse effects on my current good progress. I’m just not comfortable being around my family when I’m feeling so unsettled and anxious. They can say things that I don’t think they intend to be hurtful, but that are nonetheless. For more practical reasons, I was going to give my house a good clean over the weekend (its a mess), I only just washed half my wardrobe today, and I went grocery shopping recently so I’ve got loads of fresh fruit and veg I’m trying to get through. But my father was quite insistent, and when I failed to provide proper reasons not to go other than I don’t want to and my avocados are going to go off he sounded even a little hurt, so I had to give in. I’m getting the train tomorrow and arriving in the afternoon. On Sunday I’ll go walking with my father and sister. I get to see my cat. Those are the things I shall try to look forward to. I’ve not even packed yet though. Half my clothes are wet. I wish my father would give me more notice, more time to prepare. I wonder how this weekend will turn out. I feel sensitive and a little grouchy and I’m certain this is a bad mood to go home in.

Post Title: Elizabeth Haynes - Human Remains

“Spoken Words. Broken Hearts. Instant Dreams.”

My family came round over the weekend – my parents and my sister.

I got up bright and early on Saturday morning, keen on taking things day by day like I said I would, and headed to university to work on my coursework. To my surprise, things began to work, and I felt very relieved, even though there was the lingering worry that I still did not really understand, and so was doing it wrong. I then went home, and waited for my family. They arrived one hour after they said they would. It was confusing and overwhelming – they all wanted to speak to me, all wanted my attention, all at once. I admit I mostly wanted to talk to my dad – he recently went on a business trip to Seoul and I was eager to hear about what he thought of it and what he had done and what he had eaten.

Also I’d asked him to buy me some beauty items there and was not disappointed – he brought me a whole bag of goodies. He got me the wrong cleanser – I asked for the History of Whoo brightening cleansing foam, but he got me the History of Whoo cleansing cream. I did not complain of course – too awed by the stunning packaging, and the fact that my father had splurged on something even more expensive and luxurious when I thought he would baulk at just the whitening cleanser! He also got me HERA sunmate daily – my daily sunscreen/makeup base. And the Sooryehan essence foundation. I got a bunch of samples – including HERA homme items which made me laugh – I wanted to know how my father had ended up with those, and I tried to persuade him to use them but my father remained unimpressed. He also stashed away the red pepper paste and some kind of Korean dressing from the plane for me, and his hosts had given him various odd smelling teas that he gave me some sachets of. I’m a little wary of them – one of them smells like coffee, its very odd! Meanwhile my mother took it upon herself to go poking around my house – cleaning things as she wished, and criticizing as she wished too. I pleaded with her to stop but my mother can never be stopped. She even went into my cupboards and my fridge, inspecting…who does this?! My sister was preoccupied this weekend as she has a new boyfriend – so when she wasn’t glued to her phone facebooking him, all she wanted to do was speak about him. It was an overwhelming mix of emotion that came over me faced with my family – nervousness, annoyance, happiness, excitement, anger, embarrassment.

We went out to get something to eat at a lovely Thai restaurant. I had a spicy red curry with coconut rice. So tasty! Afterwards we went to the theatre to see Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake. This was where the evening took a turn for the awesome. I’ve always wanted to see this rendition of Swan Lake and it did not disappoint. I loved it. It was fairly strange and I am not entirely certain of the plot (I went in knowing it had something to do with swans, and came out knowing it had something to do with swans) but it was beautiful and gripping and emotional, and with a great streak of humour too. At one point I was so completely absorbed in it that I dropped my program on the lady sitting next to me. I would feel bad, if she hadn’t been texting and whispering for the majority of the performance.

If there is one thing that makes me ache seeing this was remembering when I used play the main swan lake theme on my violin. As I was watching it I couldn’t help but remember what that felt like – it had been one of my favourite pieces to play. That evening I listened to the whole opus and ached to pick up my violin and play. I think sometimes I regret failing my music exams more than I regret failing my A levels because it feels like there is no second chance with it, that it was a lost, wasted opportunity. It has really hit me how I squandered what was a really precious, unique opportunity – a lack of time and money means its impossible to take music lessons now, and I badly need a few refresher lessons before I pick up the violin again. I long to play again though – at the end, it became all about exams and I began to hate it, because I was depressed and it was just too much effort, but I remember what it was like before, how wonderful it was to play, how I loved it and how much I actually did want to become Grade 6, Grade 7, Grade 8. I love music, I always have. Isn’t it incredible how it can inspire so many emotions in a person? How it can define moments of our lives? And there’s something especially rewarding about being able to create it, rather than just listening to it. But its time consuming and expensive to learn it. I really regret giving up on it before. I hope that regret doesn’t hang over me for a long time, and one day I will be able to face it and my shame at letting it go and play again.

Anyway, after the theatre my sister and I dropped the parents off at their hotel then went back to mine where we just went to bed. I admit I was a bit disappointed – I wanted to talk to my sister a little bit, when the parents weren’t around, bit she was tired, and still occupied with facebooking her boyfriend.

In the morning my sister wouldn’t wake up and get ready so it was a long, boring morning waiting for her to do so. Eventually she did so and we went to pick up the parents and we went to IKEA and to the supermarket – nothing out of the ordinary. It was all right. My sister and mom wanted to shop before going to IKEA so my dad and I went to get coffee, then look at fish in the pet store ( we were both disappointed to find that there was no PCWorld (technology store) or the like we could look around but the pet store was not a bad alternative and certainly better than being dragged around clothes stores) That was nice – my favourite bit of that day.

It was not a bad weekend with my parents overall– not as bad as I feared it may have been.

They left in the early afternoon on Sunday and I moped about until bed time. I really should have done more work as I have some major deadlines coming up. The first is this Thursday for my big coursework and I’m still not done -and my circuit doesn’t even work so I’m going to lose a bunch of marks for not meeting the specifications. I admit, I was disappointed. On Saturday I was so happy with the results, but I was talking to my friend today and he went through it and everything he did was totally different , and made much more sense and worked. I felt oddly hurt. I’d spent so much time on my circuit, so why? Yeah, I felt pretty stupid. “I’m not a good engineer,”I laughed, tried to make a joke of it, but I was irrationally hurt. In the car with my family my sister remarked “me and daddy are waiting for you to get rich cath” and she laughed, and my dad smiled but I knew neither of them were truly joking. I’ve been in university for four years already and I’m still not done – I know I’m a financial burden on my family by this point. I have been aware for a while now that I need to start work – and there is a financial element to it. I think about the engineering jobs and their salaries. But… I’m struggling to get work and its already making me feel down. So that comment hit a nerve. I do not want to be reminded of my failure to get work. I especially dislike the way my father agreed – after telling me just a few hours earlier that he didn’t mind I was probably not going to work this summer. I do feel a bit of a failure right now, as detailed in so many posts before. I feel extremely worried that I’m not a very good engineer, that I’m not particularly suited or “made” for the career I have chosen. There’s so much pressure to succeed isn’t there though? There’s no room for doubt. This is the career I have chosen so I have to stick with it, and hope that someone will eventually hire me and I’ll be able to grow into the sort of engineer I want to be – competent, capable, confident. And earning lots of money so I can repay my dad and my sister for everything they’ve ever given me. I wish they’d just wait a little longer.

I wish I didn’t feel this guilt for being so unsure, so childish right now. I know I’m 22 but surely I’m still allowed to feel uncertain?

“We are all going forward. None of us are going back.”

I cannot be the only one slightly startled at the sudden arrival of March? I know I say this often, but where on earth is time going? Someone once told me that university goes by in a flash, and it does seem to be turning out that way.

On Wednesday my father was in the area so he came to visit me. He arrived 3 hours earlier than he said – at which point I was on the bus coming home. It made me a little flustered to have no time to get myself or my house ready and to know he was there waiting whilst I was on the bus, which could take as much or little time as it wanted to get anywhere. (Typically, there was traffic and the bus stopped at every stop which only increased my anxiety.) Anyway, I got home and then we hung out for a bit – I made him some coffee and we chatted and it was a little awkward for a little while but then we made plans to go to IKEA before getting food and once we had a plan most of the awkwardness faded. I do not know why I feel so awkward around my father?

I guess lately I have been wondering – am I too close, too dependent on my family? Am I burden on them, because I am so shy and withdrawn, and therefore rely on them? I am acutely aware that I probably am too dependent on my family. At this age, I should be shifting my support network to a boyfriend or friends right? But I still find the first people I turn to are my sister and my father. I do not want to bother them and I don’t want to be a burden and yet, I need them to be there for me. Its probably selfish, isn’t it. I feel like such a burden to everyone – family, friends. I wish I could cut all ties and be independent – but I am not in a place financially or emotionally for it. Emotionally, I do not think I could ever be totally alone. I do not want to be totally alone. At the same time being around people can make me so anxious and can make me feel so bad about myself. I always, always feel like I’m bothering people and that they would rather be elsewhere.

Nonetheless it was pretty fun at IKEA – I admit, I love going around IKEA. I love dreaming of my future home – wall to wall bookcases, a big, beautiful kitchen with a fancy oven, walls filled with pictures, paintings and mementos of my travels. On one hand I dream of travel – leaving everything behind and going here for a couple years, there for a few years, another place, always new. On another I dream of a home – a place I can settle into and make my own. (I think ideally I’d like something in between – to travel occasionally, but to always have a place to come back to.) After IKEA we went to Nandos and embarrassed ourselves by not knowing how the system works – apparently you order at the desk, and get your own cutlery. Shows how often we go there! But the food was nice anyway. We went to the supermarket next, then back home. Before he left, my dad quickly made up some storage for me and helped hang up some pictures.

I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to settle into this house – I’m only here for a short while, but at the same time I do want it to feel comfortable. So I put up some noticeboards (well, my dad did), which I stuck up some pictures and some revision notes. I hung up a couple of calligraphy prints up on one wall. I then put some more pictures into frames and put them on my windowsill. Pictures of my sister and I on my 15th birthday, when she took me to see Dir en Grey, my father and I at the summit of a hill, I am pale and thin, but managing to smile nonetheless, pictures of Japan, a picture of Cape town, my family in front of Victoria falls, my sister and I laughing in the middle of the jungle in Thailand, totally relaxed because we do not know we were being photographed (I love that picture – I am usually awkward in pictures, but as I was not aware of the camera, I am actually smiling) It’s nice to have these things to look at – to have these beautiful memories there, in reach, something to hold onto.

I’m not feeling OK still but I can feel myself starting to feel hope that everything is going to be OK again – which is a good enough feeling. I was so scared, so anxious and so terrified of what that means. But I’m really getting stuck into my CBT now and everything has been put into perspective, and I’m working through it, and it takes the edge off it. I had another appointment with the psychologist this week and I have a plan of action now. Its really difficult – I have to try and create a routine, so to eat regularly. Bt I’m trying, I’m going to try.

Now, if only uni would go better. I have no idea, still, what is going on with two of my modules – and just 20 days until coursework is due for one of them. My group and I also have to start putting together our thesis, and I’m not sure how that’s going to turn out. I’ve also started my last module which is a business focused module which involves a 9am-5pm workshop involving group work and presentations and writing business reports afterwards and I don’t even know. I had the first on Thursday and it was not fun and I have two more sessions for it coming up and I am dreading it.

I’m really not enjoying university at all right now. I’m tired and I’m bored and at the same time, so anxious. I’ve just got to keep trying to move forward though.

Post Title: Richard Siken - Snow and Dirty Rain

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