Just fine

'It's muscular' the Dr reassured me after looking at my neck. Typically, at that moment, it was not as painful as it had been over the last month, so emphasising where it hurt and how it keeps me awake at night was hard and probably unconvincing.

No solution, was his diagnosis, stress related. 'Are you stressed?' He asked. I nod. He looks at me enquiringly.Over the last month I have repeated the list to myself so many times it comes out in a matter of fact way, the words tumble tonelessly from my mouth: 'My lease runs out next month and I can't afford the rent if I renew it. Another 6 months rent would be a years worth of mortgage. My nearly ex husband has the money he owes me, which would enable me to buy a house I can afford but the solicitor won't let him give it to me. Meanwhile I may loose the new house. The judge insists we go to court but I can't afford to pay the fees. My temporary job ends in 7 weeks, I hate it but need the work. I hate it so much I feel like I have lost all the fun of living.'

I look at him, tears rolling down my cheeks involuntarily. My eyes leak often and readily these days. However the list is just a list. Nothing anyone can do and repeated in my head so often it appears before me like words read from a text book.

He says nothing. They don't make pills and potions for those sorts of problems. And anyway, I bet half his clientèle have the same problems or worse, most likely much worse.

I want to scream at him, beg him, 'Sign me of work please, because I don't think I can take any more' But I know I need to keep on working, being off sick will only make my working life more intolerable on my return. And then there's my 'time off and sick record' to worry about.

No solution then. I leave the consultation room and head for the toilet to dry my eyes and compose myself, Small Sprog is in the waiting room, sitting patiently. I don't want him to see me upset. In a moment I will meet him with a smile and a 'Shall we go now?' and up he will jump and follow me out of the surgery. 

And so life goes on. We go through the motions, the everyday routine, practised and guarded, no one would ever know...

These days my life is so busy I don't seem to see anyone else I can talk to and it doesn't seem right to burden friends. But sometimes the burden squashes in on me. I pick up the phone tonight to call Mum but when she answers I know she is busy by her tone. 'Not to worry' I sooth 'Just phoning up to see how you are' She tells me briefly how she is, but needs to return to her visitor. She asks how I am. 'Oh I'm just fine' I say 'Just fine'

Eleven Years

Eleven years ago tomorrow I gave birth to the light in my life. As he came out I remember the nurse saying to the student 'Mind his ear!' as they cut the cord that was around his neck. He has been in many scrapes since then.

There was no suffering after his birth, no depression that I was so afraid would haunt me again as it had after the previous birth. He was beautiful, born with a sunny nature. I loved him, love him still. My Small Man, I love him so much it hurts sometimes.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SMALL SPROG!

Unhappy

I know I should be writing a grateful list, and I am truly grateful for so many things, but during these last few weeks I have found that the negative thoughts have taken over. Perhaps it's the time of year, or the economic climate. Perhaps it's the sudden realisation that financially I am alone.

On New Years Eve I had too much time to think. I mentally reviewed the last two years, new year always makes me reflective. Since then I have been tearful and I can't seem to get out of it. Quite often I'm feeling under the weather, but not enough to stop. If only I could stop.

Work has been fractious, with abusive children, fighting teenagers and, in another job, a small boy who refuses to do anything that he is asked to to. I feel tired before I get to work, by the end I'm exhausted. I am forgetting things, simple things like which words to use. It's a little frightening. Normally I can cope, but not recently.

Tomorrow I am looking at a house to buy, soon I need to move but there is still no sight of the settlement. On one hand I am counting the weeks until my temporary job ends, 10 in all, and on the other by then my lease will have run out. I have no cash to buy us a home and once my temporary job finishes my working tax credits will stop until I can find more work. Finding work is becoming increasingly difficult. I need my working tax credits to afford the mortgage I want. It seems an endless circle of things just not happening in the right order. Sometimes it doesn't seem too unreasonable to ask for a break does it? Just a little, very little small one, just this once?

If the cash came through next week things might look better. But I fear, even if it did, it will not dispel the blues now.

A Small Sprogism

Small Sprog watches his sisters teen DVDs through is fingers when kissing is involved; he really isn't impressed with all that kissing lark. However he almost got more than he bargained for when, whilst playing games on line, he clicked on a link. Hmmm, a new game he thought. He was telling me this in the car on the way to an evening event at his sisters school.
'But you'll never guess what Mummy?' He says in a most indignant way
'What?' I reply, trying to keep my eyes on the traffic.
'It wasn't a new game at all and I'm not going there again' I became a little worried, where had he 'been' in the virtual world?
'What was it then, if it wasn't a game?' I braced myself
'It was one of those ''mating''sites' He shuddered at the thought
'Mating sites?' I said with slight panic, then it suddenly dawned on me, and Tall Girl at the same time. Dating sites is what he meant, we roared with laughter at his utter disgust!
Dating not mating? Or perhaps he was right after all.

Flu Jab

Small Sprog was due his flu jab. He hates it, hates needles, hates doctors, hates viruses, so he said. 'I'd like to kick them (viruses) in the bollocks!' he muttered as we entered the surgery. I didn't like to remind him that viruses don't have bollocks and I let him get away with the word, as no one heard, and he was under great stress!

His appointment was after school, but with a bottom clenching wait of 40 mins between one and the other. The waiting is worse than the deed itself. Not enough time to do much but certainly too much time to sit and wait. He'd have exploded had I made him do that! However as he came out of school, all sad and dejected, knowing his fate, he asked to go home to use the toilet. I asked him if he could go back into school instead of us driving home, but he shook his head.

On the way home I suddenly realised that the whole thing might be a ruse. He didn't really need the toilet, but was going to lock himself inside it again as he had done before!
'You're not going to lock yourself in the loo again are you?' I asked. He shook his head. At home he made for the downstairs loo. When he came out he announced 'It would have been no good anyway, you can unlock this one from the outside!'

I wonder when that had dawned on him?

We got to the Doctors bang on time but still had to wait. I could tell he was near tears, it was all just too much. He was still muttering to himself when the nurse appeared, all sweetness and light. She proceeded to chat, and time seemed to move very slowly. In the end I just had to say 'I'm really sorry but I think he'd really appreciate getting it over and done with!' He didn't need bedside manner, just 'jab and go'. She looked at him, and remembered the last time, the time when he was nearly sick. He was stabbed almost immediately. There. All over and done with in a second.

As we left the surgery, much brighter than when we had entered, he was still kicking viruses...

Twelfth Night

Twelfth night and the tree was ceremoniously disposed off from the first floor French window last night! The baubles are all carefully packed away again for another year. I realised as I was taking down all the decorations that this is the second year running that I am lovingly wrapping them up and putting them into boxes, not knowing where I'll be next time they are unwrapped.

I had put off the thought of 'what next' because it was only December. Yet now that it is January and a new year, the realisation that I have 2 months left in this house becomes suddenly a bit too close for comfort. I was working to the 12th March, but realised I signed the year long lease on 5th March. Two months left, and no idea what I can do yet. Money/divorce still not through, yet I really don't want /can't afford another 6 months rent here. I am pushing the thought to the back of my mind...

Meanwhile Small Sprog is home from his Christmas holiday with his dad and Tall Girl came back tonight. As I write she is in the bath, radio on, singing full blast to herself. 'Pop music' my Mum would have called it. I remember being 14 and singing along to the radio all the time, obsessed with the 'Top 40' Chart Show. So long ago now. And here I am with my own girl trilling beautifully from the smallest room in the house. It was lovely to hear, it warmed my heart. Welcome home.