New Year, Same Angry Bitch

 So it's January 3rd: the day many poor bastards have gone back to work after not knowing what day it is for the past week, only knowing that - whatever day it is - drinking before midday is still acceptable and 'festive' rather than bordering on alcohol dependency. As many are now sat at their desks hoping for a lottery win, or slyly browsing cheap flights while they're meant to be doing work. And what am I doing today?

 Well I was woken up at 9 by the postie, went back to bed, and got up again at 12 after a series of strange and bizarre dreams. Now I'm flipping through this season's H&M catalogue, window shopping on the Ikea website, and wondering what the hell is in that box from Superdrug (thanks postie!). Now this might sound like the perfect "yay, I'm not at work!" day to many but in my own little way I'm sort of feeling productive and proud of myself. I didn't manage to sleep until at least 6 in the morning, so I could've potentially slept in much, much later; given that this time last year I was in the midst of a full-blown manic episode I ended up buying a new sofa, tables and chairs, more bras than I have boobs for, and other shit that I really didn't have room for I'm doing quite well just browsing - other than a set of baking trays I got last night, though I consider them to be a bargain practical purchase; I've made two phone calls and answered two (which is a huge achievement for me) - one of those being a dental appointment.

 So yes, I may still be in bed but I've been productive. And considering how else I could have spent my day - sleeping until 3, buying things I don't need and can't afford - I'm pretty proud of myself. Now some of you may ask why should I be proud of myself for doing things that others do and manage to fit into a day of work? Well my mental health has been shaky at best over the holiday season.

 Christmas is always a time of huge stress for me, I love my family more than anything but I'm starting to wonder if my DNA is at least 10% cat - I can only be social and surrounded by people, overnight no less, for at least a day. And while I had a lovely time seeing everybody it took quite a toll on me. I did what I knew was best for me at some points though, taking a breather and sitting in another room by myself for a while, it was a huge sense of relief getting back to my own home. It didn't help having the beginnings of a chest infection at the time, plus wisdom teeth coming through, and I felt like an anti-social twat in my efforts to not give it to anybody as a bonus Christmas present, but taking care of myself definitely made a difference. 

 But yes, I'm not going to be jumping on the annual "New Year, New Me" bullshit bandwagon in 2017. Though what I am going to be doing this year is celebrating my daily little victories, rather than berating myself for what I could have done instead. And I'm doing pretty well so far. I'm taking care of myself and for once not feeling selfish for doing so. I'm doing work at my own pace, rather than ruminating over not having done enough - which inevitably leads to none getting done. Anyway, this year may finally be the year that I get my shit together, who knows? 

Following in Father's Footsteps...

WARNING: This post is a little gorey, if you're not a fan of hilariously stupid injuries and fairly graphic descriptions of them then you may want to turn back. In the meantime though you can check out my shiny new Facebook page for behind the scenes rambling, daft pictures and more details of other shenanigans.


 This is my Daddybear. Isn't he handsome? He's the loveliest Daddy I could have asked for - albeit occasionally grumpy and a total wind-up merchant - and I love him to bits. I've always been told I look a lot like him, though my beard never comes in that well; and that we have a lot of the same mannerisms. We're both total nerds, enjoy shouting at the telly and ranting about things and both find Hayley Williams very attractive.

 But last night I had a moment that definitely solidified that there is no denying I'm his daughter. When I was younger I would do the typical teenage thing of arguing with him, storm to my room and slam the door, and think to myself "how can I actually be related to this man!?". Don't lie, we've all done it at one time or another. However this event makes me question how I could ever think that.

 One of my clearest childhood memories was from when I was about seven. Dad was fitting a new banister, and being the handy-around-the-house DIY type that he is he was doing all the work himself; staining and varnishing the wood, cutting and fitting pieces. Though this would prove to be a bit of a mistake. I'd been sat in the living room watching Scooby Doo (probably, it was my absolute favourite) when he comes in from his garage (aka his Man Cave), talking incoherently and in a panic and goes to see my Mam. I follow him into the kitchen and see blood all over the kitchen floor and him holding his hand. From what my little brother told me it was quite a spectacular sight. He'd been in the garage at the time and saw Dad slice through his hand between his finger and thumb with a stanley knife while evening out the bottom of one of the rungs, coming very close to losing his thumb. The knife had slipped, cutting his hand quite deeply, blood shooting up in an arc through the air. My little brother's reaction - cry, scream, panic at the blood? Nope!

"Wow, do it again Dad!!"

My Mam, as any good partner would, put it under the tap to clean it up and see how bad it was. However in the process she ended up washing part of his nerve down the sink too. It was a bit of a crazy night, one of our Grandparents having to take him to hospital rather than dragging the whole family out to Accident and Emergency. After surgery and a lot of stitches he was all patched up and on the mend. I remember Mam taking us on the bus over to see him in the RVI and it absolutely pouring with rain; we ended up having to duck into the Oxfam shop on the way from the bus station to get some dry clothes - I got a nice pair of jeans with a skirt attached to them and they became my absolute favourite. He looked pretty sorry for himself, full of painkillers with his hand all strapped up. It's pretty strange as a child with parents who are otherwise fit and well to see them so ill. Dad recovered well and eventually got the feeling back in his hand, though we still mock him to this day about this and similar clumsy injuries. However last night I may have lost any high ground I had to mock him from about such a ridiculous injury.

Like father like daughter - still both adorable!

 Paul and I got back to Newcastle at about 10 last night after a weekend in Edinburgh with a wonderful friend of ours, we had had such a fantastic time and were quite sad to leave. Given how late it was and how down we felt about coming home we agreed that something quick and convenient from Sainsbury's would be better than cooking that night so instead we could devote our energy to cuddling up in front of the telly and talking about how good our trip had been. Being the good wifey-to-be that I am I put Paul's pizza in the oven while my pasta bake was in the microwave and he got the telly set up and an episode of Family Guy ready to go. However shit hit the fan when I decided to go one step further and cut his pizza for him, the cutter slipped when I got stuck on the crust and I found that while I didn't quite get through the crust I had almost severed the tip of my finger.

 It was a bit of a surreal moment, it stung like a bitch and bled all over my feet and the floor and all I could do was stand there looking at it, wondering how on earth I had managed such a deep cut with a bloody pizza cutter of all damn things and how I'd go about clearing it up with just one hand. Priorities, amiright? When Paul came in to see what had happened, what had warranted the "oh fuck", he immediately began asking if I was okay and how bad it was. All I could say?

"Well... There's no denying I'm my father's daughter."

 I stayed quite calm actually, polishing off my pasta bake and chatting happily about what an idiot I was while my poor Paulobear panicked that I'd severed my tendons. Having done so himself a few years ago I could see why it was a worry. After a phone call to NHS 111 I told him to get to bed while I got myself along to the RVI. A long wait, x-ray and a tetanus jab later (it really fucking hurt, right in my shoulder!) the wonderful doctors determined that I had cut right down to the bone but it was perfectly intact, no damage to that. Unfortunately because of where the injury is, right down my finger tip it wouldn't be possible to stitch it as it would just split again so I'm looking forward to sever weeks of steristrips and three days of antibiotics just to be on the safeside.

 So from my little misadventure I've learned several things:

• If you're going to slice your hand/fingers with anything, do it with a pizza cutter; it leaves a nice and straight cut - although hot cheese and tomato sauce aren't the nicest of things to get in a wound.
• The NHS is absolutely fantastic, no matter how stupid your injury they'll try their best not to laugh at you.
• Clumsiness can run in the family. Not only have me and my Dad shown that we can't be trusted with sharp objects but a year or so ago my darling little brother thought that the best way to see if the blender was still broken was with his finger...

 Thank you Daddybear, while we may be ridiculous human beings we at least give people a good laugh! Love you xx

P.S. - if you haven't already, check out my shiny new Facebook page here!!

Bitch in the Kitch: Cooking Therapy and Self-Love

 Welcome back! After another (though slightly shorter than last time) hiatus I'm back to the bloggersphere, I did warn you folks! As has been mentioned in previous posts my mental health hasn't been great but it's certainly on the up at the minute. It's a bit like a seesaw, normally with the kid on one end having rocks in their pockets. At the minute though I think both kids have stopped and are just chilling, chatting and eating cake on there - with the odd wobble up or down. Anyway, glad to be back.

 Some of you probably already know that I'm quite a big foodie, I love everything from cooking it to eating it. And this might come as quite a surprise, but it's actually a common thing for those of us with/in recovery from eating disorders/distress to enjoy making food for various reasons; be it feeling we have control over food, control over our bodies through that, and/or loving ourselves and nourishing ourselves in the recovery process. I find that there's something therapeutic about following a recipe and making something delicious. I love the structure of recipes, almost in a way of being given instructions, otherwise I can get a bit panicky and edgy; recovery is a long (again) seesaw-y process and I'm still at the stage of needing to know EXACTLY how much and of what I'm putting into food. The kitchen has always felt like a safe haven for me. It's where I first learned the joy of making things with my hands, making play doh with my Mam, and baking and cooking as a child, the feeling of eaten something I'd created (yes, I may have had a few nibbles on the play doh...). It's where I'd first drink with my friend and her Mam in their kitchen, enjoying Saturday nights as a teenager giggling over wine and discussing the world ahead of us. It's where I feel I do my best for my partner; I may have my shortcomings but I'll always say I'm a damn good cook and being able to feed people I love brings me a lot of happiness, leaving me feeling whole and refreshed.

 While looking for something yummy to cook for myself and Paulobear I found myself on Cooking On A Bootstrap, the website of the incredible Mx. Jack Monroe featuring delicious recipes interspersed with political and social justice activism, I'm such a huge fan of them!!  Their writing is so poetic and relatable, and at the same time so accessible and non-threatening. Admission time: I've grown up always being told what a clever girl I am, yet at the same time I feel like a total, total fraud because I struggle with a lot of words; not the spellings or pronunciations of them but the meanings. I often end up feeling embarrassed in conversations when unknown words come up, so I'll either keep my head down and keep quiet, or feel like a muppet and ask what it means while thinking they must think I'm ridiculous. Or secret option number three: slyly Google a word, worry I look ignorant for looking at my phone instead of paying attention, then continue to berate and shame myself for not knowing the word. Getting back to the topic at hand though!

 I came across a delicious looking recipe today that I will be making for tea tonight, and not only do I have all the ingredients to hand (including fresh kale from my Grandma and Granddad's garden!!) it was so beautifully written that I just had to share it with you folks. Very aptly titled Self-Love Stew one part particularly stood out to me:

"The stirring is key. It is soothing. It is mindless, not mindful. Sod mindful. My mind is full enough. It is a minefield. Tonight I want to stir some stuff and stare at my hands or into nothing."

 It isn't written as a traditional recipe but it's more or less a much better alternative (for me personally, and most likely others of you out there) to guided meditation. I'm so fed up with being told I need to be more mindful, I find the whole concept difficult to grasp and apply to myself, so such advice on mindfulness and exercises to become 'mindful' etc stress me beyond what I already had been. It creates a feeling that I'm failing at mental health recovery, that I'm even rubbish at trying to get better. 

 Looking at cooking and eating as a way of showing care to myself and others has also been an incredibly helpful tool in my mental health and more specifically eating distress recovery, rather than food being a way to control and punish myself. And while I now and then get the odd stupid comment along the lines of "hahaha, you're a rubbish feminist! Being in a kitchen and looking after a man hahaha *tips fedora*" I find it to be the exact opposite. Using it as a tool to look after myself and making myself a better person to be around, I've never felt like a better feminist.

 A huge thank you to Jack Monroe for their wonderful recipe and their general being wonderful-ness, you are an incredible human being!!

 Much love, this Bitch is off to the Kitch! xx

Busy Day Tomorrow... Radio et al.

 Evening all, it's a late one tonight. I have a very good excuse for my recent inactivity:

 The worst has happened, after six years of loyal service my laptop has finally given up. Well, the screen has fallen off and it's a pain in the arse to use; I have to hold it up with one hand and type with the other. I can't decide whether it's more or less of a pain in the arse posting from my phone - so far I'm going to go with more, it's shit!

 Anyway I'm going to keep this post quite short, I've got my neurology appointment tomorrow afternoon. FINALLY!! It's been such a long wait, being ill for months on end without having a clue what's doing it is pretty scary. My appointment isn't going to be a magic cure but hopefully it'll be the beginning of the end, fingers crossed.

 Busier still, I've got an interview on BBC radio Five Live Breakfast tomorrow morning!! Ten past seven IN THE MORNING though!! (Y'know, as breakfast suggests) it'll be a miracle if I don't end up at the studio still in my pajamas. The interview is to coincide with the beginning of university for some tomorrow on Lad Culture and my experiences of sexism on campus. I had to waive my anonymity because of one of the incidents I'll be talking about, for those of you who won't be awake to catch it I'll post the link to it tomorrow. It's an issue I'm really passionate about addressing in my role as Women's Rep this year so any ideas and feedback from you lovely readers would be wonderful :)

 I'm trying to get an early night tonight but just wanted to say a big thanks to those of you who've sent me lovely supportive messages via Facebook and Twitter in response to my last few posts. I've been feeling really isolated lately and it's just wonderful to get such nice messages, it's helped me to feel less disconnected and out of the loop. I'll be posting again tomorrow to let you all know how the interview and the appointment go, lots of love!!

Update: I've just had a call from the BBC and they've pushed my interview back to its original time of ten past eight, so I've got another hour in bed! ;)

I've lost my leggings virginity! And other tidbits

 Welcome back readers, apologies once again for another long break. As I explained in my last post I've been very poorly lately and often have very little energy left for this, which is very very sad. But I've got some rather interesting entries in the works for you all so they are to be looked forward to! This is more just a catching up, getting me back into writing post for now. 

 Less than three weeks to go until my neurology appointment now, it certainly cant come quick enough! I'm still having an awful time with these seizures, as an adult woman it's rather embarrassing having to explain to friends and family that the bruise on your arm or the black eye is from injuring yourself during one. There have been good things in the past month though, The People's March for the NHS set off eleven days ago now and they're on track to reach London for September 6th so if you're in the area when they're passing through your town or city be sure to show your support for them. It's a wonderful cause which originated as an idea from a group of mums in Darlington, the Darlo Mums, to re-enact the Jarrow March in order to raise awareness of the cuts and privatisation happening to the NHS. I was very happy to be invited to speak on the platform at the rally before the march set off, it was very humbling to see so many turn up to see off the marchers. I was up there speaking as a descendent of one of the original marchers and seeing that the legacy of it is still so vibrant is very touching.

Look how big!!

 

 Well done to all those marching, very good cause, please give them your support. Why not join in if you can? Paul and myself did the first leg of it to Chester-le-Street, it was really nice seeing so many people in high spirits out in support of our health service. And believe me it's gruelling committing to something like this, I did about two weeks in total of the Youth Fight For Jobs march back in 2011 and a few weekends, not all in one go but I feel that it was easier doing the week in one go than the weekends as you got into the routine of it a bit more, there was more good nights of sleep (apart from those where your comrades snored - no names!) rather than marching ten miles in a day after sleeping on a coach/train - then having the same bad sleep in preparation for the week ahead of you. But don't let it put you off!!  

 The picture to the left is ...I don't actually know what it is but I picked it up somewhere on the way to Birtley, and by picked up I mean found in the sole of my shoe! Yikes, very glad I wore my walking shoes that day.

 In other news - VICTORY!! There were over 70,000 signatures on the petition to get the mother's name on the marriage certificate and the current outdated certificate we have at the minute is set to be given the heave-ho. Even though David Cameron has 'pledged' to resolve this I still couldn't trust the man as far as I could throw him but now that the public pressure is clearly there we're much closer to this becoming reality.

*Side ramble: when I went to google this I got a little side-tracked after typing in 'mother', my browser seems to know my interests now and came up with 'mother of the bride dresses'. I had a little poke about by something I couldn't get over? None of the women modelling dresses marketed specifically in a category 'mother of the bride' looked old enough to have a daughter of marrying age, how irksome! 

 What else what else? Hmmm... this may seem a bit filler-ish but it really isn't actually (don't you 'yeah, yeah' me). The other week I had a very horrible incident involving my smoke alarms. We have a rather old heating system with a water heater instead of a boiler, so if you want to have a bath and do the dishes at the same time then tough, the dishes will just have to wait. Though there is a way round this with the emergency switch, y'know, for emergencies like if the dishes just can't wait. Anyway after Paul had a bath that morning the switch was left on accidentally and the water heater started steaming. The same happened the day we moved into our flat, almost a year ago now, and it set the smoke alarms off. It caused a lot of bother a) because of the ceilngs being so high are impossible to reach and b) even when you find something to stand on to reach them they don't have a working hush switch. Because the property is rented they're wired into the mains to prevent tenants taking the batteries out when they burn their toast, forgetting to replace them and burning the house down. Ours have never gone off when we've burned food though, it only goes off for the water heater so there was clearly something wrong with it. Last time it only lasted half an hour or so (I say only...) which should have flagged up that there was something wrong but this time it went on for Three. Straight. Hours.

A not so happy Stormy having a bath

It was bloody awful, I was ill enough as it was that day but three hours of non-stop noise was unbearable. I had to text Paul at work, he rang me back and I couldn't talk for crying (this was after about an hour), so he ended up ringing my mam and she came from work to wait with me while the landlord sent somebody round to sort it out. Most of all I was worried about Stormageddon. He's my little baby and I was so worried about the noise scaring him and the scare making him poorly, so my hero of a mam got him out of his viv (I was too worked up to), into his carry box and into her car to sit for a bit. And the little git had slept right through it, lucky thing! He wasn't happy about being disturbed  but I felt better for it. So mam could get back to work I took him round to my friends', Clara and Nina's. It was lovely of them to take him in as they were doing a big clean up ready to move out, I'm really grateful to have such lovely women in my life.  

 Which brings me to today. I had an exam this morning which was absolutely awful (don't ask) and left me in a buy/eat everything in sight mood. I had tried so hard to prepare for it, even having a bath the night before to get a decent sleep that night. However it took a turn for the worst during that when I had a seizure in the bath. It's been frustrating not being able to have them unsupervised but I definitely get why now. Paul didn't realise what was happening at first, he just thought I was rinsing my hair but when the splashing started he got me out straight away. It was pretty traumatic, I'd taken in a fair bit of water and felt awful the rest of the night, in fact I still feel like I've got some up my nose. Still, after years of avoiding the trend I gave in and bought my first ever pair of leggings in my strop today. I'm pretty pleased with them (although I may not look it!) my main reason being I have some lovely dresses from Moonmaiden Gothic, that I want to be able to wear over the winter but would be a bit too chilly with just tights. They're all handmade by Sarah and Michael Eddy, a wonderful couple based in Cornwall; for such great quality clothing they're very reasonably priced too.

 Anyway, I hope to get my new posts up before I go back to uni. Until then - happy feministing!

The Importance of Self-Care: Theory and Practice

Afternoon all!

 Now it's been quite a while since my last post, it's seeming to be one thing after another lately. A mixture of tendinitis in my shoulder when trying to finish university work, preparing for a few short breaks, work, and now when that all seems to have settled down my health seems to have taken a rather bad turn. Over the past month I've been having (as of yet) unexplained seizures, mostly as it's been described to me afterwards as tonic-clonic seizures, and partial seizures in other cases. Having been back and forth to my GP and to the hospital in this time I'm having to wait until September for a referral to a neurologist; while I've made necessary adjustments to my own lifestyle in the meantime it's frustrating and honestly quite scary having to wait such a long time for a diagnosis and even then the guarantee that I'll get a diagnosis straight off. At first it seemed the most terrifying part of them was waking up, unable to speak and feeling weak all over, but now the worst seem to be those while I remain conscious but don't have control over my own body and motions. But as scared as I am I'm determined not to let it rule my life.

 In the past few years self-care has been very big on the feminist agenda it seems. Far from being a new concept it's great to see it making a comeback, but while it's often discussed as a wonderful notion it is one of those things that I know I'm not alone in finding very hard to apply to myself. I'm extremely guilty of, well, feeling guilty when caring for myself, I often feel as if I'm abusing the idea or using it as an excuse to be lazy. The right answer here should be 'even if I am, so fucking what??' but I tend to find myself panicking and the guilt piling up for doing so and even more for thinking in that way; I've found it to be a vicious cycle. Since I've been feeling the toll of these fits on my general health and well-being though I thought it was about time that I really made an effort with it.

 I feel as though it has had an impact on my relationship too. Paul has always had a very caring nature and for as long as we've been together he's really looked after me but because neither of us know what's causing it, when it will happen or what to do about it it's scary and very frustrating for us both. He's learning well how to cope with me though, going to doctors appointments with me, researching bits that he can and helping me with keeping a note of what happens during and after seizures. His workplace have been accommodating too,  letting him take the time off for the appointments or if we've spent the night at the hospital, and allowing him to keep his phone on hand to get in touch and see how I am through the day. One drawback though is that Paul says it makes him feel quite possessive doing this, especially when I was on a weekend away with friends and he just wanted to be sure I was okay; I've been doing my best reassuring him that I don't mind and I really understand both why he feels like that but also why he wants to be sure I'm okay. It can be horrible thing seeing someone you love ill in this this way and not knowing how to fix it - and unfortunately for us it seems to be me who does most of the being ill!

 I'm currently easing myself into a routine of self care and really hope to carry on with it even after I've gotten a diagnosis and hopefully something to control the symptoms, so here are a few tips that I would like to pass on as somebody who has struggled to get into it, I know I'm not the only one!

• Don't feel like a burden - you most certainly aren't!

 This is something I really had trouble with, possibly fall-out from past mental health issues, but to begin with I found it hard to accept help and allow myself to be looked after by Paul and other friends and family. I hated the fact that there were things I had to rely on others for, like making sure I'm safe during a seizure and caring for me afterwards; I suppose I felt guilty more than anything else that people around me were on edge because of it. What finally convinced me to change this thinking was the wonderful women I went with to Horton Women's Centre and those that I met there too. Being in such a safe, supportive environment with people I was so close to got me to thinking that they have no obligation to look after me but do it because they care for me and about my well-being. I've always verbalised my concerns and still tend to apologise after seizures but even with that compromise it's had a very positive impact on my own dealing with them as it takes at least one element away from my anxiety around them by not worrying so much.

• Know and respect your limitations

 Another big hurdle with my past experience of self care, not knowing or just flat out ignoring my limits. I often convinced myself that I was able to do more than I was doing and I could always do "just that little bit more" than I was and I'd be fine; not just physically but mentally too. When I had tendinitis I would still go into work with my arm in a sling, serving food on day shifts, cleaning the top shelves, serving as quickly as I could on busy Friday nights. At the time I thought I could give Wonder Woman a run for her money but looking back it really slowed down my recovery time. This time round it's taken getting injured at work during a fit to stop me, after the incident Head Office requested a note from my GP to say whether or not they thought I would be safe to continue working; when I went my GP said she didn't feel she was able to guarantee this, which I took as a bit of a blow because I really do enjoy my job and now I'm having to take sick leave. To their credit though, when it first began they were very supportive and accommodating of me, making sure that I wouldn't be working alone and would be only doing duties they felt I would be safe doing. Sadly in the end with the environment I work in it just wasn't safe for me, bars can be dangerous places, but I really did appreciate the lengths they went to to support me and eventually the message it sent me about having to accept that it was in my best interest.

• Treat yourself and eat well

 Treating yourself can take on many forms and I find it's a very important part of looking after yourself, whether it's a nice glass of wine, taking a long bath, having a weekend away, a small indulgence when you feel you need one can do you the world of good. However in the past I've had a lot of issues with my weight and body image and I've found I tend to get really, really hungry after seizures, craving carby, sugary foods. At first I'd be reaching for crisps or chocolate and it was very helpful, having that little indulgence to make me feel better after a fright. Now that I've adjusted a little more to the situation it has become easier to plan around this, get in foods that I know will do me best, giving me the energy boost that I need rather than just something to fill the void. However I have been determined to treat myself at least once a day, something "bad" for me (often a nice glass of wine!) so that I'm staying as healthy as I can but still allowing myself that bit of enjoyment.

 Another thing I've found very useful around food is to prepare meals in advance. As it gets later in the day I tend to feel worse so I'm trying to get into the habit of cooking when I feel up to it, or even daring enough to make a trip to the shops, and pop it in the fridge/freezer for I want it through the week. It's a good way to ensure that when you're at a low point then you'll be eating food that's good for you rather than reaching for whatever is easiest, but at the same time there's absolutely nothing wrong with the easy option if that is the type of food you get the best feeling from. Paul and I always have the deal that if I cook then he does the washing up, it's a system that works for us but lately it's not working as well; luckily he's very handy in the kitchen, not just at the sink, and has been cooking for us when I don't feel up to it. I try and do the same through the day and keep on top of the dishes, just to return the favour, but it always reminds me why we struck up that deal in the first place - I bloody hate doing dishes!!

Well looked-after!

• Keep yourself busy

Unfortunately the post-fit cravings have led to me putting on a little weight, along with the exercise I'm used to doing no longer being safe (if I can't have a bath by myself because of them then swimming is definitely out of the question). So I've been looking for other types of gentle exercise that I can do at home, finding something that works for me that I can enjoy safely. It can be quite stressful and at the minute I'm finding it hard just keeping busy. Daytime television can be easy entertainment as a one-off but after a few days it really starts getting to you. It's the best time of any to start reading all those books you haven't got round to, do those craft projects you got all the supplies for but haven't found the time for, take a walk, explore bits of your town you've never been to before. Finding a routine can be useful if you're that sort of person, I'm struggling to find one at the moment but I'm sure I'll get there.

 With Paul working, me being off on the sick and being off uni at the moment I'm finding it difficult even to keep busy. But it's giving me a bit of time now to get ahead on wedding planning, and if it's done now then it'll be one less stress later on! Doing it in my free time now gives me time to have all the details thought out, but I can guarantee that many future posts on wedding planning will include the phrase "If it's not done now then it will never get done!"


 While this is no means a definitive list and may not work for everybody it's what I'm finding the most useful at the moment. You may well see some updates to this list but for now I'm off to play Pokémon for a bit, my DS and I have become reacquainted over the past few weeks.

 Until next time xx