Saturday, 8 August 2015

The One Where I Need Some Benzocaine For My Life (16 months + 28 days)

I'm currently living in topsy-turvy world. I've always been a "lucky" person. By that, I mean I would always count myself as "lucky". Some may disagree with this. In fact, the evidence would probably suggest that I am no luckier than anyone else. But that is the way I have viewed my life- I've always known that everything will be ok; it will all be fine in the end, no matter what current rubbish is occurring. I guess then, that what I actually mean to say, is that I've been an optimistic person (although my miserable moaning posts may suggest different). My glass has been half-full. Currently, my glass is...not so much half-empty as just...wrong.

This post is probably going to end up being quite...clinical, for want of a better word. It will probably seem devoid of emotion; a simple stating of facts and events that have occurred in the past month.

I'm aware that it's been a while, so let's go back to where I last ended: I had just received my results. Utterly devastated; total shock; death of future, blah, blah, blah. That was on a Monday.

The Thursday of that week my dad had an accident at work which involved him falling 48ft from scaffolding. He had to be airlifted to hospital. He was working away from home at the time, and my mother received a phone call from the police to inform her of the incident where all they stated was "he's breathing and conscious". Thankfully, I believe he is relatively fine, although still in a lot of pain. He fractured 5 ribs- which, in the grand scheme of things, I guess could be viewed as lucky? It could have been substantially worse. It could have been a LOT worse.

I am yet to see my dad following his accident. I have no money, and I have had no time off work. I am due to see him next week.

Piglet and I went to Center Parcs that weekend after to meet NNB's parents. It was lovely. They were lovely. Everything was lovely. Lovely. (Although Piglet brought a cold home from nursery: i.e. there were germs at nursery, and Piglet carried them home to infect me and only me, whilst being fine herself, and everyone else having a substantial enough immune system to fight them off). How can you afford to go to Center Parcs and yet you say you have no money, Bones? I did not pay for this trip away. NNB's parents were v. generous. Piglet received a lot of presents. Very grateful.

The week after, I had another filling fall out. And I cannot describe the agony I was in. I've always been quite skeptical re: toothache and such, but OH MY GOD. PAIN. I'd like to just point out that this happened just before we were about to have amazing Asda pizza so I was seriously gutted. Called NHS 111 blah blah blah "go away lady, wait till morning". Emergency 10pm trip to Asda (I'm just plugging Asda at every opportunity here because I love Asda) ensued to search for dental repair type kit thing- which they didn't have. What they did have, however, was: benzocaine.

Benzocaine is amazing. I can't describe to you how much my tooth hurt. I just can't. Benzocaine basically just numbed half my mouth. It was fine. It was wonderful. Seriously, recommend benzocaine. #Benzocaineliving

Anyway. Dentist ensued: said I could have root canal or extraction. Always a fine, fine, fine choice. Extraction will be quicker. Easy peasy. I'll have that one please. Keep your dirty dirty drill away from me. Extraction was not quick. Turns out, I have wonderfully hooked roots on my molars (just like daddy- thank you, genetics) so I had 40 minutes of hell. Really hate the dentist. Hate the dentist so much. Now have big hole in teeth. But it's at the back of my mouth, so you can't see it. It's fine, really. It's fine.

Uhm... oh yeah, no money. I have no money. Zero money. Why do I have no money? Why do I have no money, when my hours at work have currently been doubled, and I just worked nine days IN A ROW? Well, to start with, all these hours are on Augusts payslip (come on end on August, show me the moneys). Secondly, I'm on the wrong tax code, despite me telling them otherwise, so aaaaaaaaaaaaalllllll the money is being stolen by taxman. Applied for housing benefit 6 weeks ago. Have been told may take up to another 3 weeks to process claim. So will be owed 9 weeks housing benefit by the time that is paid. Tax credits have got wrong information so am waiting for them to sort that out. No money. Painful. Sad. Desperate. But nothing I can do. I just have to wait. Which is frustrating. And embarrassing. But not my fault. And I forget that. And I feel guilty, and worthless, and shit. But there is nothing I can do, but wait. NNB thought it would be helpful to do some "financial planning", but all this showed is that I have no issue with my spending- it is simply a cash flow problem.

Piglet is not sleeping. For the past fortnight, she has started waking up in the middle of the night and screaming for hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours. I can't deal with this. I can't be up all night with a baby and at work all day. I can't.

There's other stuff but...it's probably all insignificant anyway. Whatever. Point is: it was shit. So, I did what any sane person does when life is shit. I got this:



And after I got this, I spent several weeks carefully choosing a name for him. Currently, he is still being called Cat. Or Pig. I'm leaning towards Sigmund though (satisfies all criteria for cat name: 1) Ridiculous; 2) Can call him Freud; 3) But can also call him Ziggy so nursery/vets don't think I'm insane). He's absolutely mental, so he fits in quite well here.

I guess that takes us to this week then. This week began with a semi-serious discussion about futures and stuff. Now- as is well documented on here- I have no future. Oh, although I do have a mini-future. Am doing personal trainer course at college from September to April. So, that is one item ticked off my "let's be a knob for a year" list. But other than this, future is done and dead. NNB has been teaching in school (but as TA) and is starting proper teacher training this year. NNB has made no secret of the fact that once he's done this, he doesn't plan on sticking around in the UK. He wants to work abroad. So, the conversation that ensued was, am I willing to accompany him? I had nothing to stick around here for. I had no plans. It was an adventure. A clear yes. Current plan was that he starts applying for jobs in January; if he gets accepted then Piglet and I would move in with him for a couple of months before we start looking at places in whatever country he chooses. Little wary of moving into his (encroaching on other people's space, would feel like "guest", etc. etc.) but understand that would be short-term, and makes sense in grand scheme of things.

I saw my personal tutor from uni on Tuesday. He was in The North for a bit and asked if I wanted to meet up for a coffee and to discuss results. He strongly advised that I appeal what I have got. He said before I do that though, he wanted me to go to the doctors. He doesn't think I'm ok. In fact, his choice of phrase was that he was "seriously concerned" the last time he saw me (I guess this is what happens when you spend hours wailing "I'M SO STUPID" to a person). He said that they may choose not to put me up to a 2.1 but I've got nothing to lose by trying. He had mentioned that he was going to get in touch with some people about PhD's for me before results came through- and he said he was still happy to do that. More than happy to give me v good reference. Said to make sure I don't get stuck in a rut. Keep trying. Always a path to where you want to go, sometimes you might just have to take alternate route. Most interestingly of all- he got the same result that I currently have (he failed to mention this however until after I had spent an hour being like "It's not even really a degree, it's just shit. It's just a totally rubbish result, I can't even do anything with it").

And that meeting was like the faintest glimmer of hope in the month of doom. There was still a chance. There is still a chance. Because, at the moment, I've just felt...definitely emotionally disconnected from things.

Part of it is that I had sort of resigned myself to the fact that this was my life now, whether I liked it or not. There was nothing more. I just had to deal with that. I've been feeling very reliant on NNB. Which I don't like. I really don't like. He makes jokes that I need him, and...I don't like it. I don't like that he's basically asking me to put all my plans on hold for him. And I know that I'm being unfair. Because he is wonderful. He is a truly amazing person. I know that I'm a psychopath (but, I did inform him of this the first time we met, so...there was full disclosure there). I know I have serious issues regarding relying on other people (although I think they're probably justified). I just don't like feeling dependent. I used to feel like I could do anything. I could get wherever I wanted to be, I just needed a plan- even when the odds were against me, I would fight for it. And recently, I just haven't been feeling like that. I've been feeling defeated.

There is a reason that this post sounds clinical. Numb. Empty. Because I feel numb and empty. Maybe it is that life has thrown me a few too many curveballs recently in a very short space of time. Maybe it is simply exhaustion. Maybe it is not.

So. I'm going to the doctors this week. I'm going to make time for it. See if I can get a little life benzocaine (prozac). Or maybe some sedatives for Piglet so that she'll start sleeping again. Either would be good right now.