Jul 26

 Hello blog. It's been a while.

I've been busy. Well. Busy for the new normal me. Which by any standard is absolutely not busy. But for my ailing CFS ass I've been busy. Pushing things to the limit whilst trying not to super over do it and crash. With varying success.

First things. I am back to work. 2 days a week.

My first day back was weird. Super weird. Andy purposefully didn't give me much to do. And everyone else - including the new hire - had been made to get on with things and spread their wings. Which. Is how it should be.

But it was weird. It felt like walking on eggshells. That I didn't belong. Didn't want to be there. Andy had been doing things. Making mistakes without me. Ignoring my previous advice. But in somethings had followed my example.

I suppose big picture it's to be expected.

But I felt super weird.

I had to take stock of myself half way through the day. And try to figure out what I was feeling. Super rare for me to be in that kind of place. Somehow it feels like I have moved on. I don't know how it has happened. We had a chat about my time off and how I felt. I was honest. Time off had done me good. Work was a major drag. Also the way things had been going the last 24 months was shit. And I was at the lowest point of giving a shit about work ever. But it wasn't the work. It was the place. It was you. I still like computers. And doing shit. Just not for you.

The second day was better. I noodled around and kicked the tyres. Looked at what had been done. Chatted to one of the techs. Caught up with the new hire dev. He seems very competent. Which is good.

This week. More of the same. I feel weirded out. The work is not enjoyable. I don't want to start. And I can't wait for it to be finished. If you think that's a normal attitude to work, sure, but that's not me. I haven't punched cards like that in decades.

Today I have figured out that I truly like the coding side of things. Noodling with a bit of code. Debugging a problem. Making the computer Do A Thing. I like it. I get a kick out of solving a problem. The kick is as short lived as a hummingbirds wing flap, but it is there. I've never really quantified it before, and thus never really been 100% sure of my like of computers and IT and stuffs. But the pure aspect of solve a problem and do a thing is what it is. It is exactly the same purr I used to get when solving the logic puzzles in the puzzle books my mom had that she always skipped doing because she didn't like them. I can distinctly remember the brain buzz I used to get with them. And it's the same. 100%.

So there's a thing.

I like solving problems.

Another thing. I like all the rest of IT surrounding it less. Planning elegant architecture and making it all fit is cool, but not as much of a buzz. Making a sound business plan for all of that so that in 10 years time your investment was well spent is less of a buzz again. Dealing with people is the lowest. And I can say, I don't like it. Dealing with problem people - which is much of what it ends up being I can say I really dislike. I don't want to do it in fact. Fuck that.

Ok. Cool. Good to know I suppose, I have a clear idea of what I do and don't like.

Anywho. Work ticks on. Andy has mysteriously stated that he's going to talk to me about "my role and renumeration" subject to what the accountant says. Given he floated the idea of share offers last week I guess it's going to be that. Something around the lines of taking a share in the business in some form or another.

Which on paper is cool I guess. And sounds very grown up. And yada blah.

But honestly ?

I don't give a shit.

My heart and mind are wandering elsewhere. The bit of me that's stuck at work is now very unhappy. Chained to the floor - a chain of my own making to be clear. No one is forcing me to stay. The pure me wants to be away. Experiencing life. Doing shit. I guess perhaps some of this is down to taking 5 weeks off and working at a different place and feeling better and getting perspective and all that malarkey. I don't know.

Things as ever for me in these post chronic illness years continue to shift. My priorities and capabilities are nebulous. I am not sure where I am going. I know that what has gone on previously is now done. Over. Gone. A change has been forced on me. Some of it for good. Some of it for bad. Getting older also weighs in on the calculation. And so I wander without a super clear idea of the road ahead. I have some money. I have a roof over my head. There are options. I don't know.

So that's work.

My current plan is just to let things settle. Which I think is very wise. This is accrued wisdom. Sometimes just sitting and letting things settle, time pass, time to think, time to feel is the best move. And then make a decision. No need to rush it, if rush is not needed. Sit. Percolate. Consider. I am well aware that it can take days sometimes for things to filter through in people from initial event to consequence in person. And in some cases those things can take years if not decades. It's so often the case that we do not properly feel the consequences of something until long after they have happened. Whilst our fight or flight reflexes are honed for that snap response, make a decision in the split second and scarper. Our more thoughtful side, emotional side, and everything else takes considerably longer to process it all - and also gather the data. Sometimes it takes time to gather data that is pertinent to what you're considering. Few things can be assessed accurately in a split second. Deciding whether to run or fight the threat - sure. Everything else. No.

So time. Breathe. Take your time. Endure the weird feelings. The shit. And see if it gets better. Or if this is it. And consider what the pros and cons of everything are.

Also on the nature of time. Time is increasingly compressed. As I get older. Each year that passes more dramatically shifts the goalposts. One less year to need money for. One less year closer to retirement. One less year of life. Etc. At some point. Even if nothing else changes. The factors end up tipping the balance in the other direction. Considering retiring at 21 is a very different prospect from considering retiring at 61 through nothing more than time passed.

And at my age. There is more time behind me than is in front of me. Guessing the value of those years is tricky, impossible even to say with a degree of accuracy. If you are fated to drop dead in a year. Then go live what life there is to be had now. If you are fated to drop dead in 40 years. Eh. But also. What the quality of those later years will be. Probably not great. The longer you get, the greater the chance of being a vegetable in a chair. Worth it ? Probably not.

Anywho. That's work. And money. And that kind of stuff.

Athena is ok. As ever. Increasingly old. She's slowed down again. But is still game. Her 14th birthday inches closer. She has been with me now more than I had any right to expect. I talk about Ares more often now - without melting down. It still hurts. And sometimes it blindsides me and makes me ache in a terrible way that overwhelms me. But I can talk about him. And sometimes he appears in my dreams. And it's lovely - and sad.

I still don't know what happens when Athena goes. And it will be sooner than later. It will be I think the worst hammer blow of all. Not just for her being gone. But also the dramatic shift my life will then take. An empty house. No life. No movement. No other. I honestly cannot see how I survive it. But I don't know. The stubborn will to live is a spiteful thing. But I can see that Tsunami on the horizon. Slowly rolling towards me. And I am at sea level. On the shore. Watching it approach. Getting closer to everything I have on the beach. Not an if. But a when. And it will hit. And wipe everything out before it. And I will be washed away. Drowned.

But that. Is tomorrows problem. Live for today. For eventually it all ends anyway. All of it. All of us. Everything. So think about today. Tomorrow will come when it comes.

Hazel is still here. Her last couple of days here before she heads off to her dads to dog sit for a week or so. She has fully moved at this point. All her stuff has transferred from her old flat to the new. She has somewhat completed her DIY tasks at the new place. Somewhat.

She has been, as is typically the case, a disaster at getting shit done. Put off. Avoided. Then done badly. In a rush. Her initial move went badly. They only moved half her stuff. More than was specified they said. There was disagreement over what she had stated needed to be moved. It meant another day of moving needed to happen. I can't say who is at fault her. She is adamant she put all her stuff down. That being said, she has continually underestimated the amount of crap she has. And in all her other moves has basically lost stuff. In one case. Due to her ex boyfriend losing patience with her not moving her stuff after six months of procrastination and just dumping it outside in the weather.

So uh huh.

She asked me if she would need to pay again - the movers had said it would be the same payment again for another day of work -, or whether we could shift it. Just two cars full she said.

Ok. We can move it if its two full cars. Not idea. But meh.

It was not two cars full.

It was four cars full. And extras.

Again. She has history with this. She has done this same thing before. Exactly. And to me. " I just need to move a couple of things " = I need to move a car stacked full of shit at midnight.

I didn't lose my temper with her - you can't because she will just go thermonuclear rage monster. But I was annoyed with her. And I - somewhat gently somewhat in good humour - let her know she had fucked up.

I had told her long before any planning had been done that I couldn't move stuff. I couldn't help with that. Energy levels. Health. CFS. Yada. Also the heavy stuff in her flat - fridge, cooker etc, no way. When cooking dinner for me is a reach energy wise. Moving house is mythical. She was fine with that. Of course. No problem.

It ended up she spent 5 hours with the actual movers, 1 hour of which was travelling. And 12 hours with me, 4 of which was travelling.

By any kind of reckoning, whether I liked it or not, I had been involved with the bulk of the moving.

She had done her usual. Underspecified. Hand waved away issues that were actual problems. I am not sure where she gets this behaviour from. It smells like a convoluted trauma thing going on. Where she will not fess up to problems. And just tries to bury her head in the sand. It ranges from the small to the enormously important. No one goes here - only one person parks there, its fine to block the way. It was not fine. There was very definitely more than one person. There's not much to move here, that can all go in a bag. There was a lot to move and it did not all go in a bag. And on. And on. It gets super frustrating when you call her - accurately - on her bullshit. She doubles down anyway. And a short time later we all get to find out that Hazel is full of shit, and Johnny was right. Again. Now let's not talk about it.

Stressful.

The other frustrating thing about her moving is that she is the slowest most aimless mover ever. Think of the worst person you can when moving. Then probably add some. And you get Hazel. I timed her on some runs. At one point - a point she was supposed to be fully packed, in boxes, just needed ferrying to the car - it took her nearly 20 minutes to carry one armload of things to the car. 20 minutes. This meant filling up a car was taking hours. Some of it I directly helped her shifting bits and pieces. Some if it I spent in the car. Trying to preserve my energy, or nursing blown out knees or a wheezing chest. Invariably I would get impatient at her as she spent yet another 20 minutes doing god knows what - staring into the sky - and I would go grab boxes and start shifting stuff. At which point she bucks up a bit and starts going quicker.

All round frustrating. I spent my last two days before work basically moving her, at tasks she said she had done, and had not, and had spent time before hand wasting. I had to pick between two shit options - burn energy to help her get it done because she was hopeless without me. Or end up wiling away literal days whilst she aimlessly wandered about inefficiently moving and procrastinating. Either way. I lose.

I told her she could not be left unsupervised. I wasn't joking. She is utterly hopeless.

Anywho. It's now done. I had to remind myself to always be careful of taking any judgement Hazel makes at face value. You can't. Basically. She'll frequently get it badly wrong. And then procrastinate on doing it until that too becomes a problem. And often to the point where the problem will become very serious. As it was during the move, we were shifting stuff beyond the official hand over keys day - which itself was a few days late. So. By any measure. Blown a few deadlines. For no good reason other than laziness. Fortunately I was there to bail her out. And the people who were expecting the keys took it in good nature. But yeah. Always the pattern. Everyone else has to go above and beyond to cater to the disaster of planning and doing that is Hazel. And if you complain. You're more often than not the villain.

Teeth gratingly frustrating. And a situation I do my very utmost to avoid with her by drawing careful boundary lines between what's her responsibility and consequences, and what is mine, and how much help can reasonably be expected.

To her credit she took the - gentle - rebukes on the chin for once. She did not retreat into the trauma anger monster and start lashing out. She accepted she had fucked up. If it's any help she said, I am annoyed at myself for getting it wrong. Well I said. Not great. But. Admitting you have a problem is half the battle. Typically you just pretend it's not a thing.

So. She's doing better. With herself. And she navigated me being annoyed with her. Also typically a trigger meltdown point ( As she has little self worth and then believes she is going to be abandoned, and so out come the anger demons ).

I think at worst I gave her a "for fuck sakes Hazel".

But I joked about her stinky cushion on the final run. It reeked. Mould. Mildew. Damp. Really bad. She was adamant about keeping it. And turning it round into something usable. Perhaps I said, if we leave it on the floor, some helpful motorist will put it out of its misery by running it over. You think I should put in the bin ? No. I think you should set it on fire. I don't have money to throw it away. Your dad gave you a bunch of money for moving. Treat yourself. Get a new cushion.

She kept the cushion. I told her it was a grave mistake. Sticking a mildew cushion in her flat with all her other stuff, couped up for a couple of weeks. It will get into everything. But I said. Hazel is free to make mistakes. You do you.

And now we're up to date ish.

I've talked to a few people in the intervening weeks. Been a bit more social. By accident, not plan. Went out for a very long lunch with a fellow CFS type person. We shared experiences again. It can be a useful touching point. I get this. Yeah. Me too. It's difficult isnt it. Yes. Etc. It's like having someone to share your odd view of the world with. How Do You Judge How Much You Can Do. Tricky.

Overall my physical health has wavered, not as bad as it had been, but it's a fight. A fight to keep it somewhere livable with. Along the way I have been epically taking the piss. Shifting heavy crap around ( I won't even get into the saga of the super heavy flooring vinyl delivered early to Hazels new place that required shifting up and around a tight above ground flat ). Doing DIY tasks. Blah.

Mentally. I've been fairly stable. I think having Hazel around stops me spiralling down a lot of the time. I don't have room for it, if that makes sense. I guess in a simplistic way, I don't have enough time on my own to get there. In a very no brainer way then, having some company around me does me good. Even though we basically live at different ends of the house. And pass each other by like ships in the night. It's enough.

But all that being said. The return to work has been marked by a notable drop in energy. Health. Mood. The works. The drag is apparent. Like kicking an anchor out the back of a moving car. Oh. Wow. That's not good.

No. It isn't.

Which in itself makes you majorly think about the future. And stuff. And lifespans. And Athena.

And we get back to the start of this blog.

But also it has to be said the strain of moving Hazel over the last few weeks has also taken its toll.

I did note to Hazel that once again I was in a position - much like Andy - where others fuck up and then the responsibility becomes mine to fix. I totalled up the moving time I had done for her. Well she said. I've been doing that too. Yes. But it's you that are moving. Not me ! And I can't move stuff. But your problem becomes my problem. Whether I like it or not.

But, in the end it has all worked out. We've got through it. Not easy. Not nice. Don't want to repeat it. But everythings done. And all is happy. 

Next time she said. I will not make the same mistake again.

Uh huh. I said dubiously. Bullshit.

She will make the same mistakes again. I can guarantee it. It is one of her flaws.

I think on a sidenote, me talking about how everyone has flaws softens the blow a bit for her. You fucked up. You are a fuck up. So is everyone else. In different ways. She has got decidely better about talking about her flaws without being triggered. Real progress.

Last thing.

Been watching The Dectorists over the last few weeks. A BBC ( gasp ! ) series now on Netflix. Low key. Quite. Gentle. Beautiful. It is an amazing piece of work. Not because of the highest mountains it has climbed. Not because of the fiercest battles. Or greatest depths plumbed. But because it is gentle. And subtle. With nothing to prove. No major dramas to be had. Or villains to overcome. It is a beautiful snapshot of a more rural England and the people in it. Average people. Nice. Busying around with their unimportant but lovely hobbies. And conversations. It is like a breath of fresh air amongst the screaming and wailing, among the reality this, and Kardashian that. Amongst the ever richer, ever flasher, influencer bullshit, and toxic online drama and arguments.

It should be required viewing for every Brit in my opinion. It is lovely and relaxing. And portrays a much more closer to reality view of what England and its people are than anything else I think.

If nothing else. Watch it for the pretty East Anglian countryside it is always shot in.