Busy Busy Busy

Or How This Is The Week Of Stress It Is.

Daddy has been very busy at work, a phrase that means nothing to the Terror when he wants to go visit him or wonders why he isn't home yet. So while this means work-stress for Daddy and long days in the office, I've had to cope with a tired and grumpy child on my own for longer than usual, leading to a tired and grumpy Mummy too. Especially as it's "that time of the month" which may or may not be the reason for my general low mood and crying fits. Other thing have been stressing me out, but somehow or other I finally got to the doctor and got more I Feel Fantastic pills, and have got some card and glitter-glue for the Terror's costume for his school Christmas play. I think I'll wait for someone with some artistic ability to draw and help cut out a snowflake then I can hunt for an old white t-shirt to sew it to. If I try it myself it'll just look awful.

Other problems I've decided are other peoples problems and thus will not bother worrying about. Things seemed to have settled down anyway between friends, money issues can be sorted out in the new year if necessary. And some things are just beyond my ability to do anything about.

My mother has breast cancer. Again. We have a family history and she recovered well after the first diagnosis a few years ago but only opted for a partial mastectomy at the time. After discovering she is carrying the BRCA2 gene, she was considering further prophylactic surgery, but in the meantime another tumour was found in the other breast. The good news is that it is a second separate occurrence of the disease, rather than the original having spread, and rationally speaking her prospects are good. But of course I worry. Not least because I can do little to help in practical terms and find it hard to tell her how much I love and admire her. She's borne her sufferings quietly, with no fuss and great dignity. She's gone into hospital today for the operation. I'm trying not to worry too much.

One consequence of this that does require action on my part is that I now know I have a 50-50 chance of having the BRCA2 gene myself. After putting it off for too long, I finally told my GP and asked to be referred to a geneticist. I still don't know if I want to be tested, but that's why they offer counseling. Now younger women at high risk are offered MRI scans which means earlier screening is a possibility instead of waiting (as mammography is largely ineffectual in under-40s). And of course I may not have the gene, which would vastly decrease my chances of getting breast cancer while not totally ruling it out. So it's certainly to be considered, and I'm glad to have finally done something about it.

Now I just have to pluck up the courage for a smear test. And remember to get my repeat prescription before I run out...

Jogging FAIL

I've got into the habit of going for a jog 2-3 times a week, which is good. Combined with half an hour or so of Wii Fit every day and trying not to snack too much (yay for antidepressants suppressing my appetite) this will hopefully do me some good, and allow me to fit back into half my clothes (the other half will hopefully not be too big).

Unfortunately, I've also got into the habit of starting to jog, going so far and then dropping down to a walk to catch my breath. And then continuing to walk, mind on other things until I realise I ought to start jogging again. And then I only manage a little bit more, so turn around and head for home, intending to jog most of the way. And my mind is still wandering and before I know it I've walked most of the way home.

So really, I've got into the habit of going for a walk 2-3 times a week, which while better than nothing is not quite what I intended.

Anxious

(Warning - long and rambly)

I seem to be a bundle of nerves today and I don't really know why. I guess I'm worried about something.

It could be any number of things. The Terror's misbehaviour has been increasing lately and I'm at a loss as to what else I can do to calm him down and make him listen to us. Daddy is therefore more stressed, and has some work worries about possible relocation as well as the usual traumatic process that is research. We're both on new meds, and overdue a doctor appointment to check up on our progress. I suppose it could be the drugs that are making me nervous - they certainly seem to have killed my appetite and I'm not sleeping as well, but I was oversleeping to start with. I have money worries - one of which admittedly is having too much money and the fear that I'm spending it when I know I'll have to pay it back. We screwed up a declaration of income for the Tax Credit Office and who knows what the outcome of that will be. I haven't heard from the computer shop re my laptop which leads me to suspect I wrote my phone number down wrong (I suppose they already think I'm an idiot, going in shouldn't be too embarrassing). I didn't do any work last week and now I've got a load of marking to do I can't quite face (partly because I'm so jittery).

There's the always present feeling that I'm not doing a good enough job bringing the Terror up, and the fear I'll forget something important for school. There's the guilt about having a wonderful man who's madly in love with me and yet that doesn't stop me feeling that I'm in love with someone else who isn't the slightly bit interested (and I know it won't last, but can't seem to cope all the same). There's other guilt as well, about the selfish things I've done in the past because I couldn't deal with my emotions sensibly and people got hurt. And the guilt about not staying in touch with friends, or talking to my family as much as I should. My mum has cancer again and while I rationalize that the prognosis is good and she will cope fantastically as she always does, it's still a bit too scary for me to fully accept. Mum's very sick and there's nothing I can do except try and be there for her. Other people have problems too, that I wish I could help with somehow but never can. I'm not sure why I think I can sort out other people's lives when I can barely manage my own, but I can't stop myself interfering and trying to fix things, probably because I feel at least partially responsible.

I don't seem to enjoy doing stuff as much as I used to, and whether that's the depression or the drugs or just a phase I don't know, but it makes doing anything difficult as I can't even use a reward as motivation. And yet somehow I have to keep going, struggling on and getting by as best I can. Trying my best to make other people happy, which at least makes me feel a bit better, and at least there's one person I can make happy just by being around. Well, two, I suppose. The Terror's moods never last that long really.

I'm a bit calmer now. Guess it does help to write it all out.