First Aid ID

I got my ID badge for St John Ambulance today.

I go on my first official duty on Thursday – the Blur concert in Hyde Park.

I’m borrowing a uniform: hopefully I won’t have to do CPR as the shirt is a size too small. (Just think safety pins!)

It’s currently scorchio in London at the moment, so I’m envisaging: blisters, heat exhaustion, drunken faints and the like.

CBT

I had my first CBT session yesterday. It was with a new therapist – psychologist – who will be doing my therapy. So the main bulk of the session was going through everything.

I have 5 more sessions with her, then we’ll review how I’m getting on.

I’m not entirely convinced this will help or if I’ll ever be able to change my thought patterns, but people tell me it is possible, so I shall have to think positive.

On the plus side, I’ve had a crappy 2 days what with one thing or another and haven’t crumpled! Although I felt a bit weepy yesterday with the stressful day at work. So that’s good.

Also… I’ve realised that it’s not a case that noone ever fancies me, it’s more a case of the guys I like don’t seem to fancy  me, or the unsuitable ones do. So potentially one day I might meet a suitable guy who I fancy: and who fancies me back!

That would be nice!

Anyone got a plaster?

I went on my first duty with St John Ambulance yesterday. It was a family fun day in the local park. There were 4 of us – I was asked last-minute as they weren’t sure if one of the adults would turn up (we had 1 cadet).

Between the 4 of us we managed to give out 1 plaster.

I felt very proud!

I’m hoping future duties will be more exciting!

Men

Meet Richard, formerly known as Biscuit (so as not to confuse I’m reverting to real first names). I work with him.

Meet James. He’s from church.

I like them both, but I have more of a pull towards Richard. Who, on paper, is not the best prospect. At 30 (I’m 32) he’s already a grumpy old man. He has self-esteem lower than mine. He’s not a Christian (well, he’s Church of England, but whether he has a living faith, I do not know).

James is a Christian. He’s also a barrister. He’s younger than Richard, I think, but I don’t know how old. He also lives about 5 mins walk away. But I don’t know him that well yet. We hang out at church things and he’s been to a BBQ I had for my birthday.

I should fancy James. He’s attractive, he’s intelligent (they both are) and he’s funny (they both are). But at the moment I don’t know him well enough for the pull of attraction towards him to outweigh the pull of attraction towards Richard. Who is a total coward when it comes to women.

James is more tactile. Richard dislikes any kind of PDA (public display of affection), from what he says. I’m a fan of PDA – as long as it’s not too over the top or too gratuitous or in front of me on the bus first thing!

It’s an interesting struggle and dilemma I’m having at the moment with these 2. It’s different for me to be analysing this more clearly.

Who knows what – if anything – will happen with either of them. In God I trust.

Men and mental illness

[ARGH!!! I'm not sure what I did, but I just deleted 15 minutes writing on this!]

I’m not implying, by my title, that I believe men are the root cause of mental illness (though they do play a part in mine), but if you choose to believe that…

Rather, the two major things playing on my mind (other than job and house issues, but another day for those) are men and my own mental health.

My mental health

Last Friday I went for an assessment to see if I was a suitable candidate for a new group CBT session there were setting up for people with depression. My initial referral suggested that I was; spending time with the therapist revealed that I am not. I am no longer showing signs of depression (hooray!), but am still showing signs of significant lack of self-esteem and need to know how to manage this so that I will not be reliant on the antidepressants for the rest of my life. I’m back on the waiting list for one-on-one CBT.

We did, however, discover 2 rather fundamental trains of thought that underly my low self-esteem:

• I do not believe I am particularly intelligent.
• I do not believe I am very feminine

However, I do know that these are negative thought patterns and in themselves are not true (though there are elements of truth in all of them), but I am unable to break out of them myself. And they are a fundamental part of my shyness around new people, and my struggle to relate well to men.

Intelligence

I was always the ‘clever one’, while my brother was the ‘arty one’. And then I went to Uni and realised some things are just beyond my comprehension. The guys at work can talk politics and sociology and other things I don’t understand: I feel thick, and considering most of them are younger than me, I feel stuck, forever to be tied to jobs that require no particular intelligence, and imagine myself at 75 still unable to live on my own, stuck in a house share with people I don’t particularly like, because I can’t get a well-paid enough job because I’m stupid.

And the only way I can see out of this is to move in with a man. But we’ll get to that in a bit.

I have a 2:1 degree in Microbiology from a very good London university – I am clearly not stupid.

I can do things with spreadsheets, Word and PowerPoint that make some of my colleagues weep with envy. I am clearly not unintelligent.

I am learning First Aid and have already put it into practice. I am clearly not a political geek. My intelligence is in a very different area to that of those I spend a lot of my time with, which makes me feel rather insecure. I’m surrounded by those that think deeply about things: politics, faith, life. I don’t think so deeply, so abstractly.

This does not make me unintelligent. Comparing myself with others is understandable, but detrimental. And when it’s a guy I have feelings for as well, I feel doubly inadequate, as not only can I not match his intelligence, but I’m not a ‘proper’ woman!

Femininity

I was a tomboy growing up. I didn’t like skirts or dresses – they made it difficult to climb trees. I was probably too competitive – being smaller and skinnier than the boys I could climb higher.

Boys didn’t like me. Depressed from an early age I was moody. I went to an all girls school; then co-ed at A-Level. I blossomed. Girls are bitchy. Boys liked me; boys are week; girls ’stole’ them from me through gossip and bitching. I became a pariah, a joke. Only the freaks and geeks went out with me.

And then they left me because I wouldn’t put out.

And all the while I don’t feel girlie enough. I look better with short hair. But I still don’t like how I look. I look like me Dad. I look at me and see man’s features. I have dark hair, particularly on my legs. I have man’s legs!

The self harm started as a result of getting rid of these man hairs. And punishing myself for having them. And the more I do it the less feminine I feel. And so I continue in the hamster wheel of self-harm.

And now it’s a habit. And I’m trying to stop.

I have not wanted to burn myself since before Christmas – that was the last time I did it.

I have stopped biting my nails. A friend bought me nail files and nail polish and I remembered how much fun nail polish is! I’m now a little obsessed, but I have nice nails now, and with moisturiser and discipline, I’m healing the skin around them that I used to pick.

I still pick my legs. But I’m working on a bargain with myself to stop this. I’m giving myself 2 reasons I am allowed to pick, and 2 only:

• If I cut myself shaving. Which is rare only because I epilate mostly. But sometimes it takes too long to do that, and when I shave I usually take a portion of the back of my knee off. Those I can pick. There’s something I rather like about picking scabs. I know it’s gross, but I have that kind of morbid fascination with that. And I also like scars. They tell a tale, a history.
• My feet. It’s summer. Summer shoes attack my feet. I can pick them because shoes hide them.

It’s a start. It’s like moving from 2 packs to 1 pack of fags a day. I can’t do it all at once. In fact, I’m struggling to limit myself to just that. But each day I pick (pun not intended there) myself up and try again.

Men… well, I’ve gone on a bit much in this post. Shall leave them to another.

Grandad

Apparently the doctor decided today that it would be OK to discharge Grandad tomorrow.

This is an almost-90-year-old man who is half blind, has a huge bruise and black eye over and around his good eye, has smashed his good glasses, has angina, type 2 diabetes, an ulcer on his leg caused by the diabetes, a hernia, struggles to walk more than quarter of a mile, lives on his own, keeps walking into things and falling over, has to have someone come in twice a day to make sure he takes the right pills because he keeps getting confused. And the doctor’s happy to send him home?

Yesterday he fell out of his front door and landed face down in the gravel path. He was only putting out his milk bottles. My Dad’s been working in Germany this week (as part of his redundancy package they’ve contracted him for 2 weeks a month in Germany and 1 in the UK for 3 months), flying back from Paris tomorrow morning. He then has to go to Wales with Mum for the weekend to do wedding stuff with my brother, then Sunday he’s back down to Exeter again for next week in Germany. Grandad’s a 6-hour drive away. I’m 2 hours by bus-train-bus.

I rushed up yesterday and found him, this little, white-haired man, drowing in the hospital bed waiting for a CT scan. I didn’t recognise him at first – I had a choice of 2 little, whited-haired old people and it took a moment (he wasn’t wearing any glasses). He of course, without his glasses, didn’t recognise me, and he was mortified!

I have spent the evening on the phone to Mum (in North Devon) and Dad (train between Germany and France) trying to convince Dad it’s not work £330 and all the extra travel and stress involved in him trying to get to see Grandad tomorrow. He can do his bit by phone and if he needs me to dash up there tomorrow to physically stop them discharging him I will do so. Work are very understanding and accommodating about this, which is one less stress.

I managed to speak to Grandad twice today – the second time to try and convince him that he needs to tell the doctor and social workers that he can’t manage on his own. Hopefully Dad will be able to get the warden from Grandad’s sheltered residence to speak to the doctors and tell them he can’t go home until a proper care package is sorted out. To discharge him without that safety net would be irresponsible. Grandad’s of the generation where they don’t want to be a bother or cause any trouble. He just wants to go home, but doesn’t realise if he does so without proper help he will be more of a bother and a burden! I think he takes it a bit better from me, but only just.

My blissfully free weekend I was looking forward to has come crashing down around my ears. I’m supposed to be going away with friends the weekend after which will be relaxing, but I may have to crash out instead. I think I’ll be sick of train travel by then!

Still, at least I’m getting the experience 20-30 years ahead of when I’ll have to deal with my parents!

Long time…

Goodness, I didn’t realise quite how long it had been since I last posted. What has happened in the last 2+ months:

• Street Pastors: been out on my first patrol. Had to deal with the aftermath of a fight; a taxi driver was beaten up by a group of lads and I got to use my first aid skills. Still in training – only 5 more sessions to go.
• St John Ambulance: had my induction, been on First Aid at Work training (through work – I get and extra £5 a month for being a First Aider!). This weekend doing all my registration paperwork, so hopefully will have an ID card and uniform soon, so I can go out on duties.
• Had a birthday. Had a party. Good food, good company, good wine (got a wee bit drunk!)
• Exceed expectations in my annual appraisal, so get a slightly higher payrise than simply being successful.
• Have started going back to church more regularly, feeling less angst about it, but less guilty about not going. Stepping down from the PCC has its benefits, I see!
• Meeting nice, single Christian guys! Ironically NOT at the Christian singles party I went to last month. Still single, but relatively OK with it.
• Still on the therapy waiting list. Have been offered group CBT: am going for an assessment next week. We’ll see if it feels right.
• Discovered Battlestar Galactica, the 21st century series. Loving it!
• Been to the theatre. Lots!

Those are the highlights. Shall try to be a bit more on the ball here.