On 1 November 2019, I saw my first Christmas TV advert. Really people? Can someone please be fired for having this ridiculous idea of putting Christmas adverts out at the beginning of November? We now have near on two whole months of being reminded we’re supposed to be happy and, for those of us who dread the Holidays, now get two months’ worth of reminders.

I finally ventured out of the house on Monday for the first time in nearly two weeks and saw at least half a dozen houses who had their Christmas decorations up already.  What?  Are you mad?  We’re not even out of November yet.

Don’t even get me started on the Christmas 24 Movie Channel! The saccharine sweet Hallmark movies that would send most people into a diabetic coma if you watched more than one. The ridiculously attractive lead characters, sometimes in the most ridiculous of predicaments (they’re supposed to be grown ups after all and clearly make some VERY bad decisions) and the sugary happy ending just in time for Christmas.

Bollocks.

There are those of us who really aren’t going to have a very happy Christmas at all. My chum’s Dad has just passed away so I’m sure she’d probably like to shove the Jingle Bells somewhere the sun doesn’t shine. My poor Mum has had a hell of a year, between my Gran passing, my Dad with his cancer diagnosis and needing his gall bladder removed and now me. In between all that, she’s had a cataract operation on her 70^th Birthday!

I really don’t like Christmas any more. I can’t believe I’m talking about it again as it only seems like yesterday, I was talking about how I got through last year! Boxing Day is my Christmas Day. It’s when I’m with my niece and nephews and even though they are getting older, it’s still fun to see their faces when they open their presents. I get to spend time with my Mum and Dad but there will be no Gran this year.

You already know that I absentmindedly bought Gran a Christmas Card the other weekend that I had to take back. I keep a spreadsheet of the Christmas presents that I bought and one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do, is take her off that spreadsheet. Her main present and her Tree present. We have little presents on Boxing Day that we call Tree presents but now that we all get together on Boxing Day, they all seem to merge into one big present fest but we still separate out the Tree presents to open later on Boxing Day.  I haven’t even removed Gran’s telephone number from my mobile phone or my home phone memories yet!  I just can’t do it.

Mum insists on giving me a gift to “open on the day”. I don’t want to sit in my living room on Christmas Day, just me and the cat, opening a present without anybody else around. It’s just not right. It makes me feel very lonely. Jill has always said that I can take them to her house and open them when I’m at her house but that, to me, seems like an intrusion. I will be having Christmas Dinner at Jill’s again this year and then it’s off to Lowestoft on Boxing Day to see my clan.

So, how am I going to deal with the run up to Christmas? Well, firstly I won’t go near a shopping centre between now and Easter. I’ll order the Christmas presents online – end of. Tough. Whatever did I do before the internet?  There will be no Christmas songs playing in my house – I shall stick to good old Def Leppard, Whitesnake (tweak the title of this post Whitesnake fans), Thunder and FM to get me through. Hey, they’ve got me through everything else so why change the habit of a lifetime now? Obviously, I shall partake of the boxes of Celebrations, Heroes and the ever decreasing size of a tin of Quality Street. It would just be rude not to. However, I will not be watching the Christmas Movie channels. My Christmas movie of choice will be Die Hard. It’s a classic, filled with brilliant one liners and the forever missed and adored Alan Rickman.

I have, however, treated myself to a little early Christmas present – the new Star Wars film is out on 19 December and at one minute past midnight, I shall be at the cinema to be one of the first to see it. That’ll probably give me something else to moan about!

So, the downright Ugly. This has been building up for a couple of years but about 10 days before Gran’s funeral, it went into overdrive. For the past couple of years, I occasionally faint or near faint. It’s accompanied by sweating and vomiting. I don’t faint every time but I usually feel pretty rough for a while after. I’ve fainted before and damaged both of my feet, I’ve fallen down the stairs because of it and smashed my jaw. Let’s face it, it hasn’t been fun.

However, this particular Saturday morning at about 7am, I had a feeling of indigestion. I ate a few extra strong mints, hoping that it would pass. The pain got worse. I also had really bad back ache all across the base of my back. That was getting worse also. I wondered whether I had slept awkwardly or whether my disc was about to slip again in my back so I tried my stretching exercises on the Yoga mat. I didn’t last long because the indigestion feeling was getting worse and I was starting to feel sick, really sick. I literally crawled to the bathroom and the sweating started. At this point, I knew I would be sick at some point but I didn’t know if I would faint or not so decided to stay on the bathroom floor so I wouldn’t have too far to fall if I did faint. I was sick but it was purely bile.

The sweating was getting worse and the indigestion type pain was becoming intolerable. I was in so much pain and I didn’t know what to do. This was no trapped wind! As I was starting to struggle to breathe, it got to about 8.30am and I dialled 999. The Paramedics arrived very quickly indeed. I had left the front door open for them and crawled back to the sofa. I had a blanket over my body because my body was cold but I had the fan on my face because I was sweating so much. The Paramedics checked me over and gave me some pain relief. There was a lot of vomiting that followed and my breathing regulated. Once the Paramedics were satisfied that my numbers were all good, they left. I had finished vomiting and felt so much better afterwards. The pain in my chest had gone; I still had the back ache but chalked that up to having slept awkwardly. I rested for the rest of the day. I genuinely thought that was it and carried on as normal.

Then, at the beginning of October, it happened again. Only, this time it was so much worse. I lasted 6 hours before I dialled 999 and I was immediately transferred to A&E. I was given oral painkillers and the pain eased in my chest but not in my back. Blood tests were done, a chest x-ray was done and a urine sample was taken. Literally, bang on the dot 4 hours after the first pain relief was given, the pain was back but so much worse. Thankfully, by this point Jill had joined me in A&E. I was screaming in agony. I was sweating profusely. I was vomiting pure bile. Eventually, I was given morphine. I felt like something out of the Alien films. I just wanted whatever was inside of me gone. I just kept asking the A&E staff to make the pain stop. The morphine kicked in and the pain subsided. The vomiting stopped and after 9 hours in A&E, Jill and I were sent home. They couldn’t definitively tell me what the problem was but the working theory was a gastric ulcer caused by stress and my Venlafaxine. I was initially very worried about maybe having to come off the Venlafaxine if that was what was causing the problem.

I had a full blood count done and that’s when things took an even more sinister turn. I had to book an emergency appointment with my GP after the blood test results came back. My haemoglobin levels were low again and my liver numbers were ten times more than they should be. On my last full blood count, my liver levels were fine. My GP proceeded to put through an emergency cancer referral to the Gastro Department at the hospital. Just the mention of the “C” word. I wasn’t expecting that at all. I really was expecting her to tell me that it was an ulcer, take some Omeprazole and we’ll sort out the Venlafaxine. I wasn’t ready for this. The best I could hope for was gall stones or a gall bladder problem. This news came just one week after we found out that Dad has Prostate Cancer and, separate to that, he has to have his gall bladder out. Enough is enough already. I really wanted to phone Gran. I had googled about the gall bladder after getting Dad’s news but decided that I was not going to google anything else until I had a formal and official diagnosis.

Three weeks ago, I saw the big white chief of Gastro at my local hospital. Obviously, he wouldn’t give me any answers but requested further tests – those being a CT Scan and a camera down the throat as well as a camera up the bum! Oh Lordy. I figured I’d probably have to have a camera down the throat and a scan of some description, be it CT or MRI, but not a camera double whammy! That’s just unfair and, quite frankly, just plain wrong!! The CT scan was a doddle. Had to drink bucket loads of water and then they put the iodine solution in me to really brighten up the blood vessels. The only problem with it was the nurse had a few issues getting the cannula in and there was blood everywhere. She asked me if I was on blood thinning medication. I said No but did tell her that I was low on red blood cells so try not to waste what I’ve got! Finally, someone got the joke!

The weekend before last was the camera double whammy. The day before, I had to take the “preparation” called MoviPrep. I kept wanting to call it Movie Prop! Oh, if only it was that fun. This is the stuff that is basically a humdinger of a laxative. You have to get two litres of this stuff down you over the course of four hours and not eat after 1pm on Saturday (as my appointment was 9am Sunday morning). It’s supposed to taste of lemon. Jog right on. I can’t even take lemon flavoured Lemsip when I have a cold. I don’t like lemon flavoured drinks; I don’t even like lemon or lime in my diet coke when I go out. So, you now want me to get two litres of thoroughly disgusting tasting fluid down me in 4 hours. I was gagging and retching after the first half litre. I got it down me though. I really don’t know how. I then read the leaflet that came with the “preparation” and it stated that if you didn’t have a bowel movement after 6 hours, it hadn’t worked. Well, I made the first litre of this stuff at 5.30pm on the Saturday night. 11.25pm on Saturday night and I’m starting to get worried. I had experienced some of the other common side effects – the general feeling of being unwell, the stomach cramps, the shivers but no need to move into the bathroom. Then, pretty much at 11.30pm on the dot, I grabbed the iPad and got comfortable on the toilet. I didn’t get much sleep that night but at 7.45am on the Sunday morning, the taxi arrived to take Jill and I to the hospital. I had to take a taxi because I had to work on the assumption that I was going to have a sedative and wouldn’t be able to drive and Jill doesn’t drive outside of Welling basically.

We arrived early at the hospital and I went in pretty much straight away. Stripped off and wearing the very fetching hospital gowns and a pair of “Dignity Pants” which I thought sounded way too much like Dignitas to me. Well, it made me chuckle. I was asked if wanted the sedative and I declined. Hindsight would dictate that was an error in judgment on my part. The sedative is for the camera down the throat. I’ve had one before without sedative so figured I’d be fine. It wasn’t until later on in the afternoon that I remembered the camera that I’d had before was very tiny, went up my nose first and then down my throat. This one was at least five times the size of that one! I opted for the throat numbing spray and off they went. I gagged. It hurt. I was uncomfortable but it got done. There was no sign of an ulcer down there but they did take a couple of biopsies just to be on the safe side.

It was then a quick flip around of the trolley that I was lying on and off they went to do the next one. This was when we discovered that my body works in very mysterious ways. I had to have my last meal at 1pm on Saturday – a light lunch they said. Well, at 12.45pm on Saturday, I had a smoked salmon sandwich. That, apparently, was still in my stomach which was supposed to be empty by now. Oh, that wasn’t the half of it. The doctor continued with the camera but couldn’t get further into the bowel because it was still partly full. Oh, you are just having a laugh. I went through that hell on Saturday night with that “preparation” to be told that they couldn’t complete the colonoscopy. It gets better still. I have to have it done again but, this time, with the “extended preparation”. Double, yes double, the amount of MoviPrep that I had before. I could barely get two litres down me, how in the name of all that his Holy am I going to get the additional litres down me?

I am now waiting the phone call or letter that tells me when I have to go through that particular corner of Hell again. I’m hoping that the CT scan and endoscopy may be enough for the Big White Chief at the hospital to determine what’s wrong and I don’t have to experience MoviPrep again.

Given that I am supposed to be an “urgent” referral, I have taken matters into my own hands.  I phoned the hospital to speak to my consultant’s secretary.  I got her voicemail, which I wasn’t surprised about, but what I was surprised about was the message saying that she would attempt to return my call in approximately three business days.  Not feeling quite so “urgent” now.  The three business days are up today so I’m hoping that I get the call that says I don’t have to go through the “extended preparation” and that he has enough information to see me again.  The best I can hope for is gall stones or a gall bladder problem.  The alternatives are far too scary to even contemplate.  It would be somewhat ironic though if I get to do some Daddy/Daughter bonding with Dad because we both have to have our gall bladders taken out!  I will, of course, keep you updated.  For now, I just have to deal with the pain.

Now for the Bad. On 20 July 2019, my beloved and adored Grandma passed away. She was the cracking age of 94 when she passed and had been battling cancer for a while.  Those who know me well know that I considered my Grandma an absolute legend.  After Grandad died, she refused to give up.  She got herself a little job in the local charity shop, she got onto the internet and she even got broadband whilst the rest of us were still on dial-up!  She got to see the family’s beloved Luton Town FC get back into the Championship.  She got to see all five of her grandchildren get married and she had a whole clutch of great grandchildren to dote on.  She was kind, loving and generous.  We also held her wholly responsible for the family trait of being insanely stubborn and speaking our mind!  If you had completely screwed up and weren’t quite ready to tell the parents yet, you went to Gran not only for advice on what you had done but advice on how to tell your Mum and Dad!

The last time that I visited my Gran was with my sister a couple of months prior to her passing away. We had originally planned to stop in for a quick couple of hours with Gran, a spot of lunch and a catch-up and then we had plans to do some other things that day whilst we were both in the area. It didn’t work out like that! We were having such a good laugh with Gran and absolutely ripping the piss out of each other, so much so that we didn’t leave until VERY late in the day! My sister had a two hour drive home and mine was just under two hours. We didn’t do anything else that we had planned that day and spent the entire day with Gran. It was fabulous. We were all on good form and just had such fun. I’m glad that final visit was so full of laughter, fun and joy.

The day that she died, my Mum phoned Jill and asked her to come around to my house and to tell me to call home. As soon as I saw Jill on the doorstep and she told me that I had to phone home, I knew something terrible had happened. It was either my Dad or my Gran. I phoned my Mum and she gave me the news that Gran had died. I know she was ill and that she was a great age but I was devastated. At that point, I could not imagine a world where my Gran wasn’t a part of my life. Gran had 50 years on this planet without me in her life; I hadn’t lived a day without her in my life up until that day. How was I going to deal with this?

I had a good cry with Jill but I don’t think it really registered with me for a while and, to some extent, I still don’t think it has. We had to wait until the end of August before we could have the funeral service. This was because of people’s summer holidays that would want to be there. I made the notifications of the funeral once we had the date and sent them to Mum and Dad for onward distribution. This is also the reason why that between 20 July and the middle of August, the steps challenge didn’t go too well and I just completely shut down.

Literally, straight after Gran died, England were locked in battle with Australia for the Ashes.  Gran loved the cricket and we would spend many a phone call discussing the day’s play.  That was the first realisation that she wasn’t around anymore, not being able to call her and talk to her about some of the shocking days we produced and some of the inspired play we produced.

In preparation for the funeral, Mum and Dad asked me to collate some photographs of Gran to show as a slide show at the venue for the post-funeral refreshments. It took me hours and it was hard work. There were a lot of tears but there was a lot a laughing and smiling, looking at old photos of my cousins, my sister and I as kids with Grandma and Grandad. Happier times. My Dad and Uncle decided that formal attire was not necessary for the funeral and because Grandma liked bright colours, we were all to wear bright colours too. I bought a new dress for the day; it was the least I could do for Gran. The day of the funeral, although incredibly sad, was very well turned out and was still full of laughing and enjoying wonderful memories of Grandma. The slide show of photographs went down a storm and I had also printed them off and put them in an album so people could go through the album at their leisure. I stayed at Mum and Dad’s that night and we were all sitting in the garden at Mum and Dad’s and we raised a glass of Asti to Gran (one of her favourite drinks) and laughed and told stories but, of course, we couldn’t get away from discussing Brexit!

It has been really tough without being able to call Gran, especially when it comes to the Ugly stuff which I’ll get to in my next post. Last weekend, I bought her a Christmas Card by mistake. I had to take it back to the shop and asked the shop assistant for a refund. I guess she saw the look in my eyes and had been there herself because the first thing she said to me was “Is this the first Christmas without her”? It was all I could do to stop bursting into tears there and then! Christmas is going to be rough without her this year. All of our usual family way of doing things at Christmas has been based around Gran for the last 25 years so all of our plans were thrown into disarray. So, not only are we facing our first Christmas without her, we’re starting all new family traditions.  I don’t want it but it’s the way it has to be. We have to make the new family traditions good ones.

Last night, I replaced the cover on my iPad.  Tucked behind the original case was Gran’s ticket from a cricket match that we went to in 1994.  It was for Father’s Day.  I took my Dad, Grandma and Grandad to Lord’s to watch the fourth day of the second Test between England and New Zealand.  It was the last big day out I had with my Grandad before he passed away.  Grandma had kept the ticket and whilst clearing out her house, Mum had found the ticket and passed it on to me.  It was such a happy day.  England went in to bat after tea – Mike Atherton and Alec Stewart were the opening pair.  I actually bunked off Uni the next day and went back to Lord’s to watch Alec Stewart make 119!  That Test ended up being drawn but I remember it so vividly.  The sun shone, Mum had packed us off with food and drink and three generations of our family sat and watched a glorious day of cricket.  The reason I mention this is because today England face New Zealand again, in New Zealand, in the first Test of the winter series.  I shall be watching later on tonight and thinking of Grandma and Grandad and hoping that they have been reunited and are watching too.

Well, the Summer of 2019 certainly has been a mix of the good, the bad and the downright ugly indeed. Where to start is the question but I will break it down into the three categories and three separate posts so it’s easier for you all to digest.

The Good was definitely completing the One Million Steps Challenge for Diabetes UK. I got off to a really rocky start and really didn’t have a clue quite frankly as to how difficult it was going to be to get the minimum required number of steps in every day. A Facebook Group page was set up allowing those participating in the Challenge to join the Group if they wished. I did so but it didn’t prove to be as inspiring and supportive as I had hoped. It just made me feel bad about my own progress. People were posting huge numbers of steps and whilst I didn’t begrudge anybody their own success and feeling proud, it made me feel like a failure. This was within the first 1-2 weeks of the Challenge. I had three months of this. How was I going to get through it?

In to the second week and I consoled myself with a shed load of birthday cake! I was surrounded by friends and family in the run up to my birthday and on my birthday itself which was lovely. The weather was holding up so I decided to try and go out for a few walks. It turned out that to try and get the required number of steps in per day, I was going out at 4.30 in the morning to try and get the first third of my steps in for the day. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do all of the steps required in one go; I knew that I had to take it in stages throughout the day. If I didn’t want to go outside, I was trying to use the treadmill at home to get the steps done. I was trying everything within my power. Even if I was just watching the television, I was walking on the spot to get the steps done! I was knackered too.

When I first posted on Facebook that I was doing it, I had some chums say that they would meet up for a walk. I thought that was a fabulous idea to catch up with chums I hadn’t seen for a while, go for a walk around the parks and the lakes that are in my area. However, come 20 July 2019, I shut down. That will become completely apparent in the section on The Bad of this.

Between 20 July and the middle of August, I did pretty much shut down as far as the challenge was concerned. I was barely making my numbers four days out of the week, yet alone every day and I was really starting to wonder whether I would complete the challenge. In fact, I was just about ready to call it a day and tell those who had sponsored me that I had taken on way too much.

I’m not sure what changed over a week or so in August, I just felt different. I worked out my numbers and I knew it was still possible to achieve the one  million steps, but I would absolutely have to go like a rat up a drainpipe to meet the target. I didn’t want to really but I had made a promise to the charity, to those who sponsored me and to my Dad that I would do it. However, I still didn’t want to see or speak to anyone because I was in so much pain with my mental health. I hit the treadmill at 4.30am, 12pm and 4pm. I set myself little targets along the way and then if I did feel well enough to go out, those steps were an added bonus. On the days when I felt a bit more like a human being, I would ask Jill if she wanted to take her dog for a walk and we did have a couple of days of walking around our local park with the dog. Getting out and getting the fresh air was good too.

Somehow, I managed it with about a day to spare. The Summer is very much a bit of a blur so I don’t really know how I did it. I didn’t look at the Facebook Group Page because I didn’t want to get disheartened at people achieving the target with a month to spare and going for 2,000,000 or whatever. I just shut myself down in my own little world, got my head down and I sweated my way through late August and September. There was no weight loss, there was no change in shape, there was nothing. There was just sheer relief when I finished it and a ceremonial placing of the pedometer in the drawer until I’m ready to walk again.

Apparently, we’re supposed to be getting medals for taking part. We’re now into November and people on the Facebook Group Page are moaning that they haven’t had their medals yet. Grow up people. None of us should have been doing it for medals; it was supposed to be for awareness and to challenge ourselves. I have a little certificate and I have the knowledge that I did it.

I hated every second of it but, do you know what, I may sign up for it again next year, hopefully being in a better place.

A big thank you to everyone who encouraged me and sponsored me. And a massive thank you to my “Driving” playlist on my iPod that has all my favourite thumping, guitar shredding rock songs on that got me through it.

Well, what can I say? I haven’t exactly got off to a flying start on this one. The first day was, in fact, a shocker. I woke up in absolute screaming pain from the arthritis in my shoulder and neck. I went straight to the heavy duty painkillers which, unfortunately, knocked me out. I was pretty much out for the count for the entire day. By the middle of the first week, I was getting into the rhythm a little bit more, achieving my daily target. By the end of the first week, my back had packed up and I was back on the heavy duty painkillers.

Week 2 saw my birthday get in the way, although I did try and get out and about as much as possible. So, by the end of Week 2, I’m way behind schedule and need to come up with a cunning plan. I had been absolutely killing myself on the treadmill, walking for nearly an hour at a time. So, at the beginning of Week 3, I tested out “walking around the block” at my house. I worked out that if I do two laps, it takes about 15 minutes and it’s about 600 steps. Whilst that doesn’t sound like much, if I do that regularly throughout the day, it will seriously reduce the amount of time I have to spend on the treadmill in one hit. I’m hoping that this will be the key to my success and allow me to play catch up on my missed steps and put me back on track to reach the one million. I do have some time on my side so I’m glad that I’ve come up with a potential solution to get back on the right track.

At the end of Week 2, I was getting really disheartened with my utter lack of progress and really ready to give up. That is when I had to put my thinking cap on and try to work out a better solution. Clearly, forcing myself to do an hour at a time on the treadmill is too much for me. The BPD and Bipolar kick my backside on that one. That’s when I came up with the idea of going around the block at home. Little and often looks like the way forward for me. It means less stress on my back, less likelihood of triggering the arthritis in my neck and shoulder and easier for me to overcome when the BPD and Bipolar are trying to beat me. Also, quite frankly, I’m carrying a shed load of extra weight so little and often will be easier with regards to lugging that extra weight than trying to go full throttle for an hour at a time.

I am a member of the Challenge’s Facebook Page and for the most part, that has been quite disheartening too. People are posting that they’re doing 20,000 steps per day. They’re already at over 250,000 steps which is more than a quarter of the way through the challenge. I haven’t even got to 100,000 steps yet. However, more and more people are getting brave enough to post that they are struggling and the support that they are receiving from other members of the Facebook Page has actually encouraged me to rethink my options of how to achieve this target.

I seriously underestimated how much of a challenge this was going to be for me. However, I am not giving up. I will find a way through it and get to one million steps by 30 September 2019. Oh and due to my lack of coming out of the blocks all guns blazing, I haven’t dared step on the scales. No point right now. I’ll do that at the end of the month to see if I’ve lost any weight. Obviously, not helped by a shed load of birthday cake last week!!

Further to my previous post about having a cunning plan, I did it.  I signed up for the Diabetes UK One Million Steps Challenge.  Just a reminder that it starts on 1 July 2019 and runs through to 30 September 2019.  During that time, I have to achieve one million steps which equates to about 10,000 per day.  Yikes.  What have I done? 

Just a reminder that in now way am I underestimating how much of a challenge this will be for me.  On a lot of days, I barely get to 1,000 steps so aiming for ten times that amount every single day is going to be hard.  Really hard.

There are going to be days that I just don’t want to do anything at all when the BPD and bipolar have got their grip on me.  I know that.  I’m expecting that.  Those are the days that I need to really dig deep and try and push through it all.  I can’t let the charity down, my Dad down or my friends who have diabetes as well.  I also, desperately, want to get to a better place mentally and I’m really hoping that this will help kick start that process. 

I’m fed up with being in the rut that I have found myself in since Dave and Alexis got married.  I’m absolutely fed up to the back teeth with being angry about that; being angry at Alexis for committing the ultimate betrayal of girl code.  I’m just fed up with being angry.  I can’t handle being angry and I need a new outlet for trying to process that.  I’m hoping that the walking will help and maybe ease some of that anger.  It’s not a cure all but I really want it to be a start.

There will, of course, be updates throughout the challenge.  I am absolutely not going to put my starting weight out in the public domain but I will let you know if I lose any weight along the way.  Fingers crossed for that one.

If you can spare a few extra pennies, please donate to this amazing cause and help me on my way.  Thank you.

https://step.diabetes.org.uk/pages/julie-78

Whilst on holiday with the London Family, it gave me the chance to think about how I could get out of the rut I’ve been in, of being stuck since Dave and Alexis got married. The most important part of getting out of the rut for me is to stop eating my way through everything and get back on track for losing some weight. Clearly, since they got married, my self-motivation has gone into hibernation and I need a reason to kick start things again. Unfortunately, whilst away I didn’t come up with any bright ideas of how to break the cycle.

However, literally upon my return, an advert popped up on my Facebook page for Diabetes UK. They have set up a fundraising challenge called the One Million Steps Challenge. Between 1 July 2019 and 30 September 2019, the challenge is to walk one million steps and be sponsored for it. To meet this target, you have to complete at least 10,000 steps per day.

I know for some people 10,000 steps per day will be an absolute doddle. Factor in walking to work, walking around at work, walking home and they’re probably not far off 10,000 steps per day anyway. But, let’s not underestimate how much of a challenge this would be for me given that, on some days, I barely get to 1,000 steps in a day, let alone ten times that amount.

I have requested an information pack and I’m pretty sure that I’m going to sign up for the challenge. My Dad is diabetic and I have friends who are diabetic. Coming from a family who love all the wrong foods, I’m also slap bang in the danger zone for developing Type 2 myself. Thankfully, where I have blood tests every six months because of my medication, I’m currently doing okay. However, that doesn’t mean I should rest on my laurels. I’m still overweight and seriously unfit. I used to be such a gym bunny when I was playing rugby but very much doubt I could even run for a bus right now.

I can’t afford expensive gym memberships and personal trainers. There is absolutely no way I want anyone to see my body at a public swimming pool so walking sounds like a good plan. Walking is free and if I don’t feel like leaving the house, I do have a treadmill. Effectively, I don’t really have an excuse not to do it. It is still a really big thing for me to sign up for. The thought of having to do that many steps in a day when sometimes I don’t leave the house for days is damned scary. However, signing up for it means that I can’t let the charity down. I can’t let my Dad down or my friends or anybody who is kind enough to sponsor me.

That’s the sort of pressure I respond to at the moment because, as stated previously, my self-motivation is taking a sabbatical right now.

I think I’ve just talked myself into doing it. So, I’m doing it.

I shall sign up once I’ve read the information pack and from 1 July 2019, there will be updates on my progress. I shall not be posting a starting weight or finishing weight as I’m not that brave and really couldn’t deal with any fat shaming right now. However, I will post details of any weight loss during the challenge just in terms of how much weight has been lost (if any).

Once I’ve signed up, I will post details of how you can sponsor me, if you so wish. I shall only set a small target of around £150 so that anything above that would be an exceptional achievement.

Scary times but exciting times hoping that this will break the cycle of being stuck and raise some money for a good charity in the process. Wish me luck.

I’ve just got back from another holiday with the London Family. I have to say it was far better than last year. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed last year’s trip but this year’s trip made me realise that I am in a much better place than last year and I’m definitely better off not taking the Quetiapine! I knew that taking that medication was making me feel like a zombie but I really didn’t understand quite how much. Last year, I think I made breakfast four times during the whole holiday but this year, I made breakfast every single day and got the most out of the days in the sun and exploring.  Before last year’s trip, I’d also had the news about the insurance from my previous employer about to cease so I had started the process of claiming benefits (more about that in a future post) and I was incredibly worried about how I would cope financially.

Taking the Quetiapine not only left me feeling like a zombie but I slept a lot, I felt dizzy and weak and even when I was awake, I didn’t feel quite “with it”. It turns out that these are really common side effects of the medication. I decided to come off the medication (in consultation with my GP and psychiatrist) because I didn’t want to be that numb. Yes, I don’t want to feel the bad stuff but I wasn’t feeling anything so I decided that if I wanted to feel the good stuff, I had to take the fact that I would feel the bad stuff too and find another way of dealing with it.

That turned out to be one of my better decisions. The holiday with the London Family was just fantastic. I managed to keep everything under control and only had a couple of days where I absolutely could not contain the pain. I went out adventuring more this year. We pretty much did one day out and about exploring and the next day chilling by the pool. That worked really well for me this year. One day on and one day off. It wasn’t too exhausting and I knew that on the days when we were chilling by the pool, I could doze on the sun lounger and I didn’t really have to talk to anybody if I didn’t want to. At our peak, there was 14 of us out in Northern Cyprus this year but it did feel less stressful to get some time to myself.

I did isolate a little bit but it would be early morning or later at night. It gave me the chance to recharge my batteries and just to deal with the negative stuff so it gave the appearance that I was pretty much on top form at all times. I did chat with one of Jill’s sisters about this whilst we were away and she understood that, obviously, for the most part I was putting on a front so that isolating time was so very important to me just to not have to be “fine”.

When I was feeling low, I had a very good distraction whilst I was there. There were 3 absolutely gorgeous kittens (only about 5/6 weeks old) at the hotel who were friendly; very friendly! One morning, I spent two hours not being able to move because one of them was asleep in my arms, flat on her back with her head hanging over my elbow! Just the cutest little thing. Animals really are a healing tool for mental health issues and being devoted dog and cat lover anyway, I was in utter heaven. At any point during the holiday if I felt unsettled or tetchy as I call it, I’d just go and find a kitten to play with. They were more than happy to be fussed and played with. Well, it did give their poor Mum a break in that heat so she could have a snooze herself.

Oh and guess what? You remember from my post about trying on the holiday clothes I’d bought the paisley pattern trousers from Primark? Well, I wore them twice whilst I was out there. Definitely a good £7 punt and they got some lovely compliments from my fellow travellers.

The only real downside of the holiday was that on the second night there, I started to get the sore throat and tickly nose to warn me that a cold was coming. Oh, it came alright and it was an absolutely hum dinger! I’ve been home a few days and I’m still full of it. The Lemsip cold and flu max strength capsules are being taken religiously and I’m still blowing my nose like a fog horn! I’m in to the third week of it now and whilst it really is annoying the living whatsits out of me, I certainly didn’t let it get in the way of the holiday.

Now, just to deal with the 5 loads of washing and subsequent ironing mountain and dealing with the post-holiday blues slump that is bound to hit at some point. At least I have some very happy memories from the holiday and some positives about where I am with my mental health and my recovery on the whole.

A couple of weekends ago, I had to tackle one of the things I have been dreading the most.  I had to try on my holiday clothes to see what fits, what doesn’t and, subsequently, work out what I need for the rapidly approaching holiday with the “London Family” and the glamorous ladies thereof.  I loathe clothes shopping at the best of times but holiday clothes are even worse.  I would rather stick hot pins in my eyes than go clothes shopping.  There’s just something, to me, about holiday clothes that just makes my heart sink. 

 It was bloody awful.  The weight that I’ve put on since September last year has had a dramatic impact on what is now available to me to pack and I’m not in the best financial position to be buying loads of new clothes.  The rather lovely cotton capri trousers that I took on holiday last year would have been quite uncomfortable to wear this year.  They did fit but they were tight and there is no way I would have felt remotely confident wearing them so they’re staying behind. 

Then, it was time to try the tops on.  When I put on weight, it goes straight to two places – my stomach and my chest.  I’ve always liked clothes to be loose and quite baggy.  Granted, I know this makes me look like a sack of potatoes tied up in the middle but I’m just not a fan of really close fitting clothes.  Seeing the stretch across my chest of some of my tops drastically reduced my options in that department. 

To be fair, a day or so before I started trying on the clothes, I was talking with Jill and one of her sisters and we were saying that we would all have to be buying kaftans for this holiday.  We’re all feeling that we’ve put weight on but I would definitely look like a sack of potatoes if I wore a kaftan, whereas these ladies would rock a bin bag!

Jill and I did a quick trip to Primark to see what they had.  Jill is lucky that she’s petite and slim so can pretty much pick up whatever takes her fancy in there.  Not so much for me.  I’m tall and wide.  Not the best combination for clothes shopping for a girl.  I did pick up a pair of loose trousers with a paisley type pattern on them.  This is very unusual for me too as I generally tend to stick to black, white or navy when it comes to trousers.  However, they were the princely sum of £7 so I decided to take a punt.  I’ve got plain coloured tops to wear with them so I can make an outfit of them.  I felt quite brave putting them in my basket.  That was the sum total of my shopping on Saturday, apart from a new candle for the living room.  Hopefully, by the time I get on holiday, I’ll still feel brave enough to take them out of the suitcase!  Thankfully, having been so restrained whilst out shopping, I didn’t have the guilt of spending money to deal with when I got home.  That was a relief because I was feeling pretty rotten about myself as it was that I’d even had to go shopping in the first place.

I have to admit that the only saving grace of having put this weight on and having reduced options for holiday clothes is that it will now be a lot easier to pack.  I’ll have far less decisions to make and I can get it done far quicker than last year.  As my Mum keeps telling me, “take the positives out of the situation” although I think this one may be stretching it a little far.  Just like my clothes!

Firstly, I need to apologise for having been missing in action for the past couple of months or so.  I’ve had to do my applications for benefits and the subsequent assessments but I shall write more about that later.

More than anything, since Dave and Alexis got married last year, I’ve been stuck.  I wholly accept that I am divorced and the marriage was over for a while before Dave actually left.  I’m actually quite chilled out about being single.  For the most part, I’ve enjoyed having the house to myself again.  I’ve enjoyed knowing where everything is; everything having its place and everything in its place.  I’ve liked that organised side of me again.  I really enjoyed my holiday last year with the London Family and I’ve only got a few weeks to go until the next one.  I’m nowhere near as nervous as I was last year.

BUT.  And, here’s the but.  Since they got married last year, I’ve pretty much been eating everything in my path.  No, not pretty much; I have.  I’ve put on nearly two stone (28 lbs) in weight since September 2018.  I’m typing this whilst listening to “Ride The Storm” by Shotgun Messiah because if I listen to anything remotely sloppy or sad, I’ll never get through this.

I’ve definitely been stuck since they got married and it’s not just because I’m sad (I’ll come to that in a bit).  I’m angry, really angry; in fact, I’m seriously pissed.  As we know, anger is the big emotion that I can’t process and I’ve been sitting on this anger since September.  How is it fair that they get to have their happy ever after?  Between them, they committed the biggest breach of girl code and basic treachery that wouldn’t have gone amiss in a storyline for a drama.  How is it fair then that they got to ride off into the sunset and I’m left behind?

I don’t know about Alexis’ ex-boyfriend and how he’s doing.  I don’t speak to him.  I was never his biggest fan and I genuinely believe that once he realised that Alexis was never going to go back to him and that she was with Dave, I became surplus to requirements.  I do believe that he didn’t want to acknowledge that it was real and thought that she and I would end up speaking again.  Once that reality sunk in for him, I wasn’t worth speaking to.  I’m actually quite grateful for that because, as I say, I was never his biggest fan and I really didn’t want to talk to him about Alexis knowing what she’d done.

For over six months, I’ve been putting a brave face on that I’m fine and for the most part, I am.  I am just so unbelievably angry.  I never thought I could feel a rage this intense.  I’ve tried every trick I know to move on from it.  I’ve listened to really upbeat music; I’ve read through my Wellbeing books; I’ve listened to my Wellbeing CDs and, like I say, I’ve eaten my way through a shed load.  I’ve self-harmed again with increasing regularity.  I’ve shut myself away; I’ve forced myself out.  Nothing’s working.  I’m still here, after so much time, just seething.

Why can’t I move on?  Why can’t I get past this anger?  I so desperately don’t want it to become such a big part of my life that I turn into the “bitter and twisted witch” that Dave once accused me of being.  I’m not bitter about my divorce.  I’m not twisted about the divorce.  It’s done; it’s finished and they’ve moved on.  It’s the unfairness of it.  It’s the unfairness of two lying, deceitful and, quite frankly, treacherous individuals being happy without a care in the world for the wreckage that they’ve left behind them.  It’s the selfishness of it all.  I’m not a bad person.  Yes, I’ve made some absolutely shocking judgment calls over the years but I try to learn from every one of them and try and be a better person.  I think I’m a good friend.  You’d probably have to ask Jill and Jack for exact details on that and I hope I’ve not been a bitter disappointment to my family.

Here’s where the part about being sad may come into things.  Maybe it would be different if I was in a new relationship myself.  Is that the final piece to the puzzle of properly moving on?  Is that what I’m missing to truly have put everything behind me?  Oh bollocks. “Here I go again” by Whitesnake has just come onto the iPod.  Excuse me for a second whilst I change that to a slightly more positive energy channelling tune!  Sorted.  “Ashes to Ashes” by Faith No More.  That’ll do.

Back to my quandary.  Should I be putting myself out there and dating again to truly move on; to help put an end to the anger?  Wouldn’t that be using someone else though to help cool my anger?  That’s not fair on them is it really?  At this point I probably should point out that, about a year after Dave and I had split up, I did date a guy for a few months.  However, he lived sufficiently far enough away that I didn’t see him very often.  I didn’t tell him about my mental health issues – certainly not in any great depth.  He wasn’t long out of his own marriage so I was very definitely his rebound and for a few months, it served a purpose.  He was the one that broke it off and I have to admit that I was gutted about that but I knew that it was coming.  I did have fun with him but it wasn’t a proper relationship because he didn’t really know about me and I was his rebound.  Let’s put it this way, it didn’t take me very long at all to get over him.  I’ve had a few first dates but no one has really lit the torch paper.

Dave and I split up three years ago now.  In fact, it was three years ago a couple of days ago.  Ooh, “Over You” by FM is now on the iPod.  This is a goodie.  I can seriously relate to this song.  Check them out, they are such a good band.

I will freely admit at this point that I am lonely.  But, I can be in a room full of people and feel alone.  I knew that on New Year’s Eve.  That’s part and parcel of who I am.  I don’t need a boyfriend/man in my life.  I’m ticking along quite fine on my own.  In fact, I’ve spent more of my adult life single than I have in relationships.  It has been a really busy start to the year.  Between the applications and assessments for benefits, my Dad being ill and Jill’s Dad also being incredibly ill, I’ve been doing lots of running around.  I can’t believe we’re at the start of May already and only a few weeks away from a much-needed holiday.  My parents also reached the milestone of their 50^th Wedding Anniversary which was a small, intimate but lovely celebration.  But, I’m still lonely and I’m sad.  I don’t think I want to go diving into a full on relationship, living with someone, holidaying with someone.  I genuinely don’t think I’m ready for that yet.  I’m not even sure I want that.  I know that I’d like to meet someone whose company I enjoy and I think is pretty cool (and hopefully they’d feel the same about me).  I want to have some fun with someone again.  Go to the cinema; go bowling; have a picnic in Greenwich Park; a water pistol fight in the garden on a hot afternoon; maybe even a pillow fight on a Sunday morning whilst trying to decide who is making the coffee.  Is that too much to ask?  I guess I want to feel wanted.  I want to feel as if somebody likes me for me.  I want to laugh with somebody.

Here comes the double-edged sword on this one.  Where I’ve been stuck and eating my own bodyweight in shit food and have put on weight, the self-esteem is at an all time low.  I’m about to go on another holiday with the glamorous ladies of the London Family again and I’m bigger than I was last year and about to have to put a swimming costume on again.  Bugger.  Bollocks.  I know that, at some point, a little switch will flick in my brain and all the crap food will be gone and I’ll be back to exercising and the weight will fall off.  I know I can’t force that.  I know it has to come on its own.  It will and I’m ready for the day that it does.

In the meantime, I have taken the plunge and I have joined a new dating site.  I did join one last year only on a freebie trial period.  This was where the couple of first date abject failures came from so I didn’t bother for a while.  There is absolutely no guarantee at this point that I will sign up properly to this new one and have to pay!  I’m going to tentatively dip my toe back into that pool and see what happens.  And as I finish typing this, “Renegade” by Daughtry comes onto the iPod.  Perfectly timed.