Not Much Longer

2016 is soon to be over.  I've been done with this year since . . . well, since pretty early on actually.  One good thing I can think of was moving in with my boyfriend.  The rest has been pretty rubbish.  It's not just the number of pretty cool people who have died.  It's not just the whole Brexit thing.  Though I did vote remain.  It's not even the fact that Trump is actually going to be the U.S. president.  Though I have to admit, that one really did horrify me a bit.  I think it's realising what a horrible we're living in now.  I'm desperately trying to bring my daughter up with good values.  I'm trying to help her become a tolerant person.  She's not even ten yet, but she has some understanding of what Trump's winning of the vote means.  She wasn't too happy about Brexit either, bearing in mind one of her best friends is Polish.

It's been a pretty tough year personally too.  My Mum left my alcoholic father.  My older sister decided to send an overly aggressive message via Facebook claiming to have terminal cancer.  She doesn't by the way.  Her husband assured us that she's fine.  For a while I was feeling like my life belonged to a soap opera.  I used to think The Ex's family were all nutcases.  My family's gone a bit bonkers this year though.  I'm beginning to think that what I always considered sanity is actually insanity.  The bulk of the people I see around day to day are the sane ones, and I'm the tolerant, accepting freak.  But if I'm a freak, then so is my boyfriend.  And my Mum.  And possibly my daughter.  She does have moments when she seems more like The Ex though.  But all children tell silly, childish lies.  I shouldn't worry so much.  But I do worry that he's got his claws in too deep.  What if she turns into one of the mindless masses.  One of the ones who isn't really racist, but is happy enough to vote a racist bigot into power.

Of course, wishing for the end of 2016 is silly.  2017 might be even worse.

Drivers

I don't drive.  I admit that might make me unsuited to comment on the driving skill of others, but as a non-driver I would wonder why I know more than some people who have not only learned to drive, but have actually passed a test.  I'll start with indicators.  As a pedestrian, I rely on drivers to indicate so I know whether or not it's safe to cross the road.  This is even more useful when I'm with my daughter.  Yet these days I am sorry to say it is no exaggeration to say that most drivers don't seem to bother with indicating.  A serious pet hate of mine.  I've been known to make rude gestures at such people.  I've also been known to make such gestures at people who run red lights and nearly run my daughter and myself over.  I'm pretty sure it's worse now than it used to be. But I don't have the most reliable memory at times so I could be wrong.  My boyfriend agrees though.  And he is a driver.  He uses a method of driving he calls defensive driving.  By assuming everyone else on the road is a brainless idiot who won't look where they're going etc, he says he has avoided more than one accident.  But then no one walking around town seems to look where they're going anymore either.  And it's not just because they've got their eyes glued to a phone either.  When did everyone lose the ability to be aware of their surroundings?  And is that even what's going on?  I have no idea.  I'm still capable of noticing the world going on around me.  For now it seems my survival depends on it.  And scarily enough, that's not an exaggeration.

What A Year So Far

I've been avoiding making any kind of statement regarding all the celebrity deaths so far this year.  It's not that I don't care.  I do.  I just felt that everyone else had kind of said it all for me.  And in some cases, perhaps I wasn't that bothered.  I was genuinely gutted about Bowie.  More so by Alan Rickman.  I just loved his voice.  And he was a bloody good actor.  And of course there was Victoria Wood as well.  But Prince is the one that has really got to me.  The Diamonds and Pearls album was one of the first tapes I ever owned.  I remember being a kid, maybe nine years old, and being thrilled to get it.  I can't remember whether it was a birthday present or Christmas present, but I remember it was on the desperately want list.  So yes, I've loved Prince's music ever since I first started to love music.  And hearing of his death saddened me.  Genuinely so.  Which I why I have felt the need to say my piece.  I would of course appreciate it if no one else amazing dies this year.  Surely we've lost enough already.

Almost Done Now

So the big move is over and done with.  All my benefits have been cancelled.  It's a nice feeling actually.  Though I still feel a bit strange about the fact I'm now mostly living off my boyfriend's wages, given I make a pittance compared to him.  Not that he's on a vast wage or anything.  He's just earning a fair bit more.  But I'm contributing to the household budget.  I'm still financially independent, which is important to me after everything with The Ex.  I'm feeling a lot better now.  Still stressed, but to a much lesser degree.  And all that's left to do is inform the odd person here and there.  And a bit more unpacking.  We're getting there though.

My daughter seems to have adjusted to the move very quickly.  She had her bedroom sorted before long before my boyfriend or I had even managed to put our stuff into more organised piles.  She hasn't done her holiday homework yet though.  Despite my constant nagging.  She has to design and make a model of a food making machine.  She's done the design, but has yet to build the model.  She'll get help with that of course.  Joy.

Three Days!

We're moving in three days!  And I am stressed beyond belief.  Though when we were round at my parents' house earlier today my mum commented on how calm I seemed.  If only she knew what was going on in my head.  And about the cruel cold silence I subjected my boyfriend to the other day.  I'm still ashamed when I think about it.  Sure, he might have left booking the removal van a bit late, but we have one now, so all is fine.  I love him.  I shouldn't be cruel to him.  He's not The Ex.  He's nothing like The Ex.  It's just a knee jerk reaction I think.  And then I get frustrated that I'm still getting those.  Oh well.

I'm missing him actually.  My boyfriend, not The Ex.  He's moving big bookshelves in his car this evening.  It means we can spend tomorrow evening moving the piles of books currently on the floor at our new place onto the shelves so that the removal men can move in the other furniture without tripping over piles of books.  That's the plan anyway.

The State Of Things

I am aware that my personal problems are incredibly trivial in light of current world events.  Just a though that occurred to me after posting that last post.  But that's part of my current stress thingy, why I'm considering (if only fleetingly) seeking more professional help.  The state of the world in general, of people in general is incredibly depressing.  People seem to be so easily controlled by the media.  Why do an awful lot of people blame all Muslims for the Brussels bombings?  I know a good few Muslims from school.  My best friend through primary school is a Muslim.  Not one of the Muslims I know is on the side of ISIS.  Just like that no Christians I know support any Christian terrorists, or the KKK, or the Westborough Baptist Church.  Why do people have to be so intolerant?  Why are so many people so willfully ignorant?  Would it kill people to question the media a bit more?  People need to learn how to think for themselves a bit more it seems.  When did people stop being able to form their own opinions?  Or accept arguments that aren't one hundred percent  in line with their own agendas.  Or should I be wondering around condemning every last person who isn't one hundred percent like me?

And a world where people are taking Donald Trump seriously as a presidential candidate?  In my opinion, that's a dangerous place to be.

Stressful Times

I might have gone a bit mad with the stress lately.  At my lowest point yesterday I actually began to wonder if maybe I should start thinking about going along to the doctors again.  It's been a few years now since I was last on the happy pills, and they never really worked for me.  I've never been convinced that any of my problems were due to a chemical imbalance, even when I was suicidal with depression.  Which I haven't been for nearly ten years now.  It was an on/off thing between the ages of fifteen and twenty-four.  Funnily enough, leaving The Ex seemed to cure that one for good.  Don't get me wrong, I still have periods of wishing I could cease to exist, but the desire to actually plunge sharp objects into my wrists has well and truly vanished.  Hopefully for good.  Like I said, the urge has been absent since I was twenty-four, and left The Ex.

But since Crazy sent that message to my boyfriend about how I should get counselling if (shock horror) I'm still not over what The Ex put me through, if he really put me through it, I've been wondering if there isn't something I might do beyond spouting off on here like some kind of crazy person.  I'm still not as crazy as Crazy though.  I actually recognise the wrongness of emotional abuse for a start.  But then she doesn't seem to believe me, not that she wants to hear what I have to say on the matter.  Which would be fine, if she didn't insist upon joining in when The Ex starts on at me.  I have no desire to go into all that again.  But I wasn't wrong to be cross when they let my daughter go in a car with no seat-belt, while the rest of them were all safely buckled in.  She was in the back middle seat as well.  And until The Ex gives me a reason to trust him, why the hell should I?  Especially when he's the least trustworthy person I know.  Just because he's perfect in Crazy's eyes, is no excuse for her to jump down the throat of anyone who has good reason to disagree.  Especially if she is unwilling to even hear the other person's side of the argument.  Very strange.

But I am feeling a bit better today.  Less desperate for a resolution.  Which I'm not going to get from them.  But I'm ok with that right now.  I might not be later.  But I am right now.  Besides, I've more important things to think about now.  Like the fact that I'm moving house in a week!  Hopefully!  And my god is that stressful.  I've still so much stuff to pack.  And most of my books have moved already.  I need my books for my sanity.  Though I still have hold of Marian Keyes latest.  I love her.  She's so funny.  I wish I could write like her.  Instead of like me.  Something to aim for I suppose.

Just A Question

If you're not even willing to just listen to someone's side of the story, how can you justify taking the side against them?

She Has A Name Now!

Crazy.  She is officially Crazy in my head.  The Ex's moronic girlfriend that is.  I have christened her Crazy for the sake of this blog.  Because she is.  Unless I've been missing out on something huge here.  Apparently, according to Crazy, absolutely everyone can get completely unlimited free counselling sessions at any time.  No limits to the number of sessions available.  No cost.  Wow.  How has this managed to escape my attention?  I have had counselling on two separate occasions.  I have completed a short course in counselling skills that was taught by a practicing counsellor.  The first time I underwent counselling I was only seventeen.  And I was suicidal.  It was a free charity for troubled teens that offered this service.  And there was a six month waiting list.  The second time was in my mid twenties for severe social anxiety.  It was limited to four to six sessions with a counsellor using the NHS approved method of CBT (that's cognitive behavioural therapy for those who don't know.) and it was a complete waste of time.  CBT doesn't work for everything.  But beyond those initial sessions I would have had to pay for private counselling.  And the idea is that your problems are sorted in the shortest time possible.  But maybe my actual counsellor and my tutor were wrong.  If so, where is this free, unlimited counselling available?  Why is it not common knowledge?  Especially if it is guaranteed to fix all of my issues regardless of what they are.

She is crazy for other reasons too, but this reason seemed the most pertinent at the current time.

How Does One Relax Exactly?

I've been very stressed lately.  Moving.  My parents splitting up (Yes I know I'm an adult and don't live with them anymore.  But it's still kind of upsetting.) and the continued existence of The Ex and his moronic girlfriend.  Though I had a good chat with The Ex last night at parents evening and have been forced to conclude that perhaps he has actually improved.  That or he has morphed from the world's worst liar to the world's best liar.  Something I consider unlikely.  Not beyond the realms of possibility, but unlikely.  Which to be quite frank puts the moronic girlfriend in a worse light.  But never mind.  

Anyway, I wanted to try and de-stress a bit this morning before I busy myself with more packing.  I had one of those de-stress face mask things and thought I'd put that on and sit with my book for a bit.  But no, I put the thing on and am suddenly overcome with the urge to start packing immediately.  And then I had to have a mini stress about the lack of washing machine, and how I really need to get a white wash on.  And then the mask started dripping off my face.  That's never happened before.  So maybe de-stress is not for me.  But I've been wondering for a while at the fact my brain seems to find me extra things to stress about when I'm trying to relax.  Even playing a computer isn't relaxing.  Most feature decision making.  I'm rubbish at making decisions.  Oh the stress.

Growing Pains

My daughter is now nine years old.  She told me the other day that she still believes in the Easter Bunny because she wants to.  I feel a bit strange about this.  It's not that I'm desperate for her to grow up.  I miss my sweet, curly haired toddler.  But I am beginning to wonder at what point I should challenge this whole Easter Bunny/Father Christmas thing.  That's assuming I should.  Maybe it's better to let her wander through life believing in such things.  But I don't like deception.  And to be frank the stress of getting caught filling up her stocking at Christmas is something I could do without.  Certainly once she's ten.  But I don't want to crush her dreams.  And if we're now at a point where she's deliberately choosing to believe these things, does it mean that deep down she knows they're not real?  She's just not quite ready to give up on the illusion just yet?  And if that's the case, maybe it's the same with all her friends.  Maybe she's not the sole believer in her class at school.  Maybe she's not heading for a painful future.  But one thing I am certain of, there are painful times ahead for her.  And they'll very soon be here.

The Moral High Ground

Can I just say how much I love being able to take the moral high ground?  So I'm not perfect ok?  But I get such satisfaction knowing that the person arguing with me really doesn't have a leg to stand on.  Or maybe the people who pick fights with me (or do I pick fights with them?  If so it's not intentional.) are just a bit lacking in the intelligence department.  I'll be honest here.  I don't really argue with anyone other than The Ex and his moronic girlfriend theses days.  And I only argued with her once and that was because she butted in to a row between The Ex and me.  I don't know her well enough to pick a fight with.  She claims otherwise though.  This very day she claimed such to my lovely boyfriend.  Unfortunately for her, he not only knows me very well, but he was present at the occasions to which she was alluding, and included in the Facebook conversation.  Also my boyfriend is not a moron.  My standards greatly improved after The Ex.  And a couple of other rather large errors in judgement.  I like to think I have at last learnt my lesson.  He has a degree in physics.  Not that I'm meaning to brag.  As someone who couldn't hack A Level physics, I am generally in awe of anyone who can actually manage to get a degree in the subject.  Much intelligence is needed for such a feat.  And he shares my liking for honesty.  She is no more honest than The Ex is.  I believe some interesting conversations are ahead.  I wonder what she'll claim next?  And I can't decide if I'm more cross or amused.  I am enjoying the moral high ground though.  Generally I don't have to tell lies about others to win a row.  I might exaggerate the odd detail now and again, but I never tell outright lies about anyone.  And definitely not to people who know the person in question better than I do.

I just hope my daughter comes to appreciate mine and my boyfriend's honesty over her father and step-mother's lies.  I'm becoming more and more scared that she's ging to end up more like them, which is possibly silly.  But I'm not sure.  Like I said, I may be an honest sort, but I'm not perfect and she knows this.  Hell, she's nine and thinks she knows better than I do.  But I love her, and I want what's best for her.  I'm not sure the same can be said about The Ex and Step-Mum.  Hell, Step-Mum criticised me for being capable of considering any money spent on my child a waste, even it was spent on something she didn't need and was consequently not going to wear.  Financial responsibility is lost on some people it seems.  Oh well.

Moving On

Moving house.  Very Stressful.  It's not even just the sheer depressingness of packing your life away in boxes and bags. It's trying to remember all the people you need to inform of this important change.  And then there's silly things like knowing I'll never get to complain about the size of my kitchen again.  At least for as long as I'm living in the new place.  And what about my bathroom ceiling mould?  That hopefully won't be a problem at the new place, but for some reason I feel I'm going to miss it.  But then I do rather enjoy to complain.  I do it so often it's become a part of who I am.  I've been a miserable sod for as long as I can remember.  Seriously, I was a cynical child.  I idolised Garfield and Grumpy Bear from the Care Bears.  No pink, happy bears for me.  I wanted to be the blue, miserable one.

So, the thought of leaving this house I've been living in for the past seven and a half years is giving me mixed feelings.  It's exciting yet upsetting.  I know where I stand here while there are so many unknowns at the new place.  Our new flat is gorgeous.  But it's a flat and I've not been in one of them since my disastrous relationship with The Ex.  What if my boyfriend, who we're moving in with, turns out to be like The Ex after all.  Sure, he seems all wonderful and nice right now, but what if?  And he is lovely.  He's honest in a way that continues to be refreshing even after a year and a half together.  My daughter loves him.  He loves my daughter.  He'll sit through my whinging, and listen while I complain yet again about The Ex and his moronic girlfriend.  And I do that often.  So why the sudden worry?  It's a big step I know.  And there's more than my future happiness riding on it, but my daughter's as well.

I'm trying to be optimistic though.  My worries are unfounded.  But we are all going to miss the cats next door.  Terribly so.