Yes I've not updated this in quite a while, and I had a lot of posts in mind, I failed to get round to actually posting any of them, so I'm now going to have to summarize the occurrences in my life over the last month or so several weeks after the events. But I have another whole post planning to come straight after this, though I'll warn you advance it's about weird pagan things.
So shortly after new year my mother attempted to come down to drop off presents, but I was busy, which set her off and I suddenly had her yelling at me about how insensitive I had been by not visiting them for Christmas (which was snowed in with all 30 of my family members there) and how unappreciative I had been and wasn't trying or making an effort for her especially, and how whilst I'd said that I wasn't able to face all my family at Christmas, I'd still found time to visit my friend Joel and so on and so forth. Whilst perfectly understandable from a "I'm your mother" viewpoint, this was not what her suicidally depressed son needed dumped on him, by someone who themselves has suffered from clinical depression so should know better. Time and a place people, time and a place. I was told never to contact her again, and for once, my dad wisely stayed out of it and I didn't get so much as an email on him on the subject. I was doing pretty well at this point, with my family thinking I was estranging myself from my parents, to the point I got a hand written letter from my grandmother regarding the matter, me and my dad still somewhat aloof from each other from a) my growing up generally and b) the events of summer 2009 where there had been huge arguments over my future career choices, and now it seemed my mother was disowning me too. Now, as much as they piss me off and I hate spending time with them, my family is supremely important to me, in the way that big families generally are to each other, we look out for each other and support each other in so many ways, so whilst I might wish to avoid them almost all of the time, I don't want to be separated from them.
Luckily, with several weeks now having passed, this has passed over, I'm not sure why, but either way my mother is now vaguely satisfied with me again, or at least enough to talk to me, so that's one drama over and done with.
I eventually got my psych appointment through. Mail which I have to forcibly control a panic attack over is not the greatest thing to recieve. Especially when your hopes have been raised by that "oooh mail" thought that goes through the mind when something's actually addressed to you, and from somewhere you don't recognise. Anyhoo after a lot of freak outs me and Joel went down to the psych centre on time, and I had the appointment with the psychiatic nurse to basically explain all the stuff I'd already explained to the doctor who'd referred me in the first place to prove that I was indeed crazy and should probably be seen by someone who could actually do something about it. Gotta love bureaucracy. So I go and I sit down and I get asked stupid questions like "why are you here" "what can we do for you?" "what are you looking to get out of this?". But I gritted my teeth and perfectly and quietly explained my situation, dropping in the right bits of information for the nurse to pick up on. Thankfully this person was not so stupid as to say "you seem to be coping" or "you don't seem all that bad" (at which point I would have verbally destroyed them with a tirade of how clearly I needed to be foaming at the mouth and physically incapable of seeking or indeed even recieveing help before I was deemed worthy of paying attention to, whereas actively trying to seek help before that point means I'm not severe enough to consider. This may seem condescending, patronising, or over reacting, but trust me, targets and budgets and over extended resources lead to that mentality for most treatments in the NHS. I don't blame them per se, it's a product of the culture they have to operate in, but that's not the point when you were feeling suicidal not all that long ago.) I actually suffered no panic attacks or even agitation during this whole thing. And I got the nurse to brand me as likely manic depressive, (they also reckon I have intimacy issues - who woulda guessed?!). I was told that I was very good at explaining exactly what they needed to know in the right terminology. I pointed out this was due to having 14+ doctors in the past. Covering the right parts of my medical history in the right ways in under 5 minutes is an artform to me. The nurse also mentioned it probably wasn't in the best interests to have me committed given my past experiences with mental health. Whether that was for my sake, the other patients, or the staff, he didn't clarify. Joel was courteous/irritating enough to point out that whilst I might have told them all this, it in no way meant I was actually engaging with the process. Damn him and his insights. So as it was left the nurse was going to refer me to the actual doctor who can actually do anything about it and properly diagnose me. The appoitnment for that came through today, 1st march. So after pointing out I was suicidal before Christmas, 3 months is a pretty short wait NHS wise. Of course there's then the whole diagnosis procedure to go through, but ho hum...
My mood was considerably lifted however, when I finally got a Thursday off, and the Grapple 101 crowd were staying late. People say I'm really good at picking up guys. I'm not, I swear I don't know how it happens. I fully concede, I get more guys than most people, and I get guys I shouldn't be anywhere near the same league as. I put it down to the combination of being small and sweet and innocent in some ways, combined with rough, aggressive, strong willed, and able to take it (that last one can intentionally be interpreted in a variety of ways). But that doesn't really explain how I pick up guys. I don't. Honest. I went to grapple and within 30 seconds in there, arguably the hottest guy in the room (he was a blond, australian, buff, swimmer in low cut jeans and a vest) turned to my friends and said I was hot and he'd be happy if he went home with a kiss from me. Now fine, I might not be able to explain how I pick up guys, like then, generally it just 'happens'. In 30 seconds I had hardly had the chance to do anything, and I wasn't even dressed hot; I was dressed in my cut up jeans that I wear to work and an oversized jumper to keep warm. But regardless, it takes an idiot to not capitalize on an opportunity that obvious. I gave him one hell of a kiss; later I got screwed by him, and now I have his phone number and get regular texts from him. (needless to say that's the short, short version) Score one for being small yet mighty! I do think however, that my forthrightness and openness about my sex life does get me a few more shags. Many consider it slutty, but so what. I posted about meeting a hot aussie on twitter, and not soon offer one of my friends was begging for a threesome. Q.E.D. Q.E.F. as soon as I can organise it.
My friend Patrick is currently living with me. This won't be a suprise to most people. He broke up with his bf shortly after new year and I offered him somewhere to stay for a few weeks as he lived at his bf's place. 6 weeks later I still haven't got rid of him :P It's actually not that bad, he does try and stay away a bit, though he doesn't have many options. His job doesn't give him enough to save up for a deposit for a new place easily. And I get a lot more sex when he's around. And drugs. But at some point I suspect I may have to have the "hows sorting a new place" talk with him. Or I could just point him in the direction of this. But it is nice having him around. If I could afford a place with a spare room I'd offer him it. And he's gone from being a fuckbuddy I thought was a cool person into a good friend and someone I spend most of my time with at the moment. Plus he gets me free entry into the sauna where he works, which is only 10 mins from my work. Yes, that kind of sauna ;)
And not surprisingly, I am broke still. To the point where I am now having to walk to work and back. It's not that bad. About an hour each way. But when you finish work at 0030 and then have to walk home, it really sucks. And the chances of being able to afford taking me anywhere this summer, let alone Chris too are decreasing every day from their already minimal level.