Grrr.

Feb. 3rd, 2016 06:26 pm
gemsybobsy: (floyd)
I keep yelling about this stuff in snippets on Facebook but it feels pointless. It doesn't get me anywhere. But nothing's getting me anywhere anyway, I'm really just existing at the moment. I'm not living. I'm just working and stressing. For nothing. I spent the whole of January with butterflies in my stomach, and feel on the brink of tears AT ALL TIMES. I thought maybe typing it all out properly would sort it out in my head/get it all out...

I'm so sick of working as hard as I do and getting nowhere. No savings, not enough holiday, no sick pay... the only blip of calm I feel is when the rent has gone out of my account after two weeks of begging people to put the money in there, but then of course, hey, the account's back to £0, and next week the tax will go out, and so begins another month of scraping enough £s in just to make it through each direct debit in turn.

I'm angry that I have to pay out so many living expenses to live alone, yet wouldn't save any money even if I moved into a shared house. If I got a 'proper job' I'd have to get a degree first otherwise I can't afford to keep living alone. And I don't get any help from the government at all, not even tax credits are available to me anymore because I earn 'too much'. I'm constantly struggling and can't commit to anything - gigs are rare unless I'm playing them, holidays cause me real fear, I couldn't even buy myself anything with my Christmas money, just in case, and now that's been swallowed up.

I'm sick of seeing other dog walkers/petsitting people doing so much better than me when I was the first and nobody wanted to know back then. I see these new businesses popping up, shiny vans, loads of dogs, all accredited trainers, have a team of walkers, have paddocks and premises. When I told people in 2006 what I was offering I was repeatedly laughed at. 'Why would I get a dog and pay someone else to walk it?!' And I know I'm not entitled to success on a plate, but I never sat around and expected it to happen for me. I started this working my arse off for people who promised they'd pay for me to do training courses and who didn't do that, and they still took half my money, so I had to start doing the cleaning to make ends meet, and ten years later - the ends still don't fucking meet.

The stress makes me overeat, which makes me gain weight, and I get acid reflux/silent reflux (DIAGNOSED BY A CONSULTANT with a laryngoscope, TWICE, in 2008 and again in 2013) as a result. This is affecting my voice when speaking, and more annoyingly - seeing as I am that bird off of that synthpop band - when singing. I KNOW IT'S AS A RESULT OF WEIGHT GAIN, because in 2008 and in 2013, when a camera went down my effing nose and looked at my vocal folds and saw irritation from acid, I was the size I am now. When I was 30lbs lighter than this, when we started the band and recorded our first album, I didn't have the voice problem. My voice feels tight, tense, it's easily fatigued and I have to really work to control my pitching and avoid squeaking, and I can barely make it through a gig without it almost giving up completely and aching, hurting and feeling sore as hell. I find it really hard to even talk every single day. I'll be having a conversation and my voice will just go. I'll have to clear my throat to get a sound out. And 'ahemming' all the time makes it WORSE. I can never be arsed to explain all this so I just say, 'My voice still sucks because of the reflux.' Then everyone goes, 'But your voice is really good.' That's not what I meeean. I explain. They say, 'You're not fat though.' ARGH I know I might look okay or whatever but that's not the point. My extra weight makes my reflux worse, simple fact. They give me that look as if I'm talking bollocks. So I get wound up with that as well. I'M NOT THICK. I am talking complete sense. I didn't get this from Dr Google. So I feel the pressure to lose the weight, to prove it. So I feel stressed. So I overeat. And then I stress because I'm still not losing the weight. So I overeat. I'M SO SICK OF MYSELF.

And on top of all of that, all music now stresses me out. I can never get computers/recording equipment to work. EVER. I have written two songs, EVER. Neither of them are even half-finished. The very idea of sitting down and creating anything fills me with actual dread. So I don't bother. Might as well sell it all. And then spend the proceeds on sodding gas and electric. Every evening and weekend flies past in a blur of eating, refreshing Facebook, feeling like I'm missing out of everything cool that ever happens, and crying.

And then there's the fact that my dog won't hang out with me at home anymore, because the fridge, which is now unplugged, made a stupid cracking noise occasionally, and because he can only hear it when it's quiet, he thinks the noise happens BECAUSE I sit on the sofa or lie in bed. So he skulks downstairs unless I make him stay in here. And if I do he stares anxiously at me until I get annoyed and tell him to bugger off. And then I cry because I MISS MY CUDDLY DOODLE DOG. :'(

I know last time I felt this messed up, I changed my life and it was scary and awesome. But this time I have no idea what I want. I just feel trapped in this bumbling existence. Bit of money comes in, instantly gone. Cupboard full of groceries, instantly binged on. Bit of energy, instantly gone. I feel a tiny bit of positivity and it's instantly covered in a ton of negativity.

We're going on tour in a couple of weeks. WITH FADERHEAD. Like, it's a dream to be asked to do something like that. But all I can focus on is how exhausted I feel, how broke I am, how out of shape I am going to look on stage, and how my voice is NOT going to cope. I was supposed to be on top form for this. FFS. I feel so angry at myself. I can't look forward to anything, I feel like I can't go out and socialise because I always feel anxious or miserable. When I do see people I feel like I can't talk about any of this anymore because I feel like they're sick of hearing about it, nobody can suggest anything to me, and I want to keep this image that I'm in control, I got my life sorted, etc, etc... I think that's why I turn to food so often; it's something that gives me a little bit of luxury and relaxation in a world of stress, and it's letting that craving take control of me, instead of me having to control ALL THE THINGS all the time. Argh.

I spent the whole of the last decade sorting out my life, getting it how I wanted it. But it's not good enough. Spent the whole of last year sorting out my brain, and getting over depression and stress, but it's all right outside the door and I'm back wading through it, with concrete boots, just not wanting to get up and even bother.

I think this is why I don't write journal entries anymore. I'll just be saying the same stuff again and again.
gemsybobsy: (bhuman)
There's nothing happening so I'm doing some self-analysis. And I've only just realised this but - although I am such a busy person - I've been unconsciously avoiding things that require me to think. I do my cleaning jobs and hang with the doggies and do ballet classes. I spend my spare time cleaning at home, doing laundry, baking, wandering around the park, the shops and the market, tending to my garden... in a sort of bubble, I suppose. The only thing I worry about is what's next on the to-do list. I can't worry about anything else. Like, I physically can't bring myself to give a damn about anything, which is something I've often felt before, but there's usually an element of guilt with it. I can't sit and read anything without getting bored and impatient and I'll sit down somewhere just to get up again and feed the fish, dust something, go all the way upstairs just to put one t-shirt away, go back to the computer and commence pointlessly flicking between tabs, not doing anything meaningful there either... not even getting involved in 'worthwhile' time-sucks like reading stories and writing my diary; it's just Facebook and checking my email and bank account. Last weekend I bought a newspaper and only read to about page three. I read a few sentences while the kettle's boiling, don't take it in, then head upstairs and back to the computer... nothing going on, wander around again... like there's nowhere I can settle.

I'm not using my brain for anything. I have little interest in talking about anything. I have vague ideas for writing words and music and never actually try and do it. Tonight I told Facebook I was bored, did a quiz, then curled my hair and cut my fringe, even though I'm not going out anywhere. It's a waste of my precious time and I'm like this every day. It's like my brain has a choice between either tearing itself to pieces panicking, doubting, questioning everything... or this. I'd love to get more active, less apathetic, more passionate about stuff; get excited and actually GO OUT when I'm invited out, maybe try and record some music, write a story, actually start some of the exercise regimes I keep planning and never do... but I really think if I had the inclination to do all that, I'd have to invite the bad stuff back.

I just seem to drift! Which isn't such a bad thing. I'm happy like this. I'm getting some money in, finally, and the band's going well. I suppose it's just the pills. I'm on pizotifen now as well as sertraline, and it's quite sedating. I seem to need naps these days. On Fridays I finish early. I planned to get Logic and my microphone up and working to maybe record some song ideas for the wedding... I got home and slept from 3-7pm. I'm finding it hard to wake up in the mornings too, although it's not difficult to actually get out of bed. The migraines are mostly gone too, apart from occasional episodes of feeling super weird.

So, even though I'm not getting anything done creatively, I'm really happy and I'm a better person like this. Life is goddamn fantastic right now, but I neeeeeed to doooooo something with it. My house is clean enough!
gemsybobsy: (ballet)
I am ignoring and abusing you. Sorry, poor ickle diary. I've been really busy, trying to scrape in money to pay for a house I'm never in because I'm too busy running around Southampton like a blue-arsed fly. I've had two more bloody parking fines and had to apply for housing benefit because the council and the tax man are taking all my money. And, I am having a bit of a health scare really. I went for a CT scan for the migraines, and then my doctor sent me a letter saying,

'While it all looks generally absolutely fine there is one slight region where it looks like you might have a very small cyst. These are relatively common things to find and it has probably been there your whole life without causing you any problems. It is probably completely unrelated to the symptoms you have been having.'

So I had to go back for an MRI on Tuesday, which was lots of fun; got to have a dye injected in my arm but still didn't see a picture of my brain. Damnit! Just waiting again now, for the results. I'm not too bothered about it. Kind of blank about the whole thing. I think I might be eating my feelings, though. I haven't stopped stuffing my face since the first scan. Stupid fat is stupid back with a stupid vengeance, and I'm more annoyed about that than the wrong shiz apparently kicking off in my brain.

In more exciting news - the dancing show is in two weeks, and I'm in the opening tap number so I have GOT to shift this extra weight. Bum wobbles! We have been making loads of costumes and stuff. SO MUCH FUNS.
gemsybobsy: (choccy)
No brainpain today, but I feel so 'eye-y', if ya get me. Heavy eyelids. I also feel slightly trippy. Maybe it's just my eyes causing the migraines? Too much computering. I'm working in my old office this week, and I did last week too. I'm covering reception (ARGH PHOANS H8H8H8) but the work itself is quite fun; reports, PAT testing, faxing, copying, deciphering the messages left by potential cleaners on the recruitment line... Brings back memories! Tonight I had to walk a pack o' dawgs before and then go and clean a house afterwards, and then it was ballet! A long, busy busy day. Loads of achy bits, for the win! Lots and lots of posé turns which did wonders for shaking up my brain a bit more. Lolz.

I have realised that since I've managed to mostly dig my way out of the ol' depression rut, I go through moments where I have absolutely no self-consciousness at all. Sometimes, I am quite the extrovert. I realised this tonight while browsing in the Co-Op for bargains - I often do this on the way home from ballet as it's bargainaceous in there after 9pm. I realised that all the daft little thoughts I have in my head just seem to pop out of my mouth and I don't care who hears them. Haha. I saw a chocolate bar I fancied, 'Yumnum! I like it, gimme one o' them!' I do it all day at the office too, and sing little songs. 'Oh Didz, let's file this monthly service report, it's all done and finished, oh yeah, oh yeah...' I don't even know where this silliness came from because there was a time when I'd be too scared to even cough loudly in the office or in a shop or ANYWHERE, really, in case I got JUDGED or looked at or in case I exploded or whatever. I'd be silly with my close friends but it'd only be when my guard was down, which was hardly ever. Now my guard just pretty much stays down and Gemsy is out o' the bag. :D

Idk, maybe it's just an age thing. My nan's always chatted to randomers in shops and what have you. I chat to everyone these days. Tonight I handed the choccy to the cashier and paid for that and my fuel, then I noticed a little teeny tiny cake that was reduced to 30p or something. I exclaimed, 'Oooh!' and grabbed it, added it to my stash of munchies, and said, 'I'll have me one of them too, looks like a winner.' WTF self?

Yeah, I need to stop going to the Co-Op and looking for chocolatey bargains. Am trying to lose weight.
gemsybobsy: (amy)
TMI )

ANYWAY.

A great Christmas was had by all of us! Busy, relaxing, tiring, no drama, no illness (apart from Nan's pleurisy, but she's alright now). Very happy. Lots of quality time with my growing family. Lots of bonding with my nieces - I kissed Stevie's soft, smiley little cheeks all weekend. I talked and talked with Dhana while she watched in awe as Chinese lanterns went 'up and up and up into the night-time' and got 'OH NO! STUCK IN THE TREES!' I love those little girls so much I am actually welling up, thinking about their faces. Also - Rattler cider? Recommended. :)

Woot!

Dec. 10th, 2010 03:15 pm
gemsybobsy: (amy)
I think I'm crashing like the goddamn tram in Corrie. I feel like I'm recovering from the flu; all weak and palpitationy. Just really tiiired, and my jaw is all tense and clenchy too so I've got an 'eadache. And my car is borked too. So, I have got hardly any work done this week.

Ugh it's annoying, I hope this goes away before the weekend 'cause I'm s'posed to be going to see Rotersand.

It hasn't all been fail this week. I passed AA100. Woohoo! I got a 78!
gemsybobsy: (ballet2)
Job:
I hate cleaning. I don't want to do it. I love doggies. I want to be Mutts and Mutts!

Hobby 1:
Dancing is awesome. We're doing a Christmas show; it's all so cute. Took all the classes by myself on Tuesday. I seem to get on with kids even though they terrify me. They like me 'cause I'm daft. Being slowly convinced that I should do my exams and be a teacher.

Hobby 2:
I just really want to be IN MY BAND, ON A STAGE, PLAYING GIGS IN BERLIN AND THINGS, BUT EVERYONE'S BEING TOO SLOW ABOUT IT. It's been two years in progress now, and I'm getting so impatient! Live mixes, now? WE HAVE TO HAVE SO MANY MIXES. I just want to GET ON THE DAMN STAAAGE.

Obligatory moans:
My mind is being all noisy and I'm not getting much sleep. I look disgusting. On Tuesday my nan said, "You look knackered, girl." Awesome. I feel it, tbh. And ill, again. I have felt sick for a whole week. I haven't [TMI]been to the loo[/TMI] since Monday night before I got on the scaryplane. IBS/anxiety/depression/etc is balls, I tell you. And I have this lumpy feeling under my right rib cage; it feels like there's something in there, and nobody will believe me. 'It's just cartilage.' 'It's just glands.' 'It's just your soft ribs.' It's not supposed to feel like that! It gets all tender and owies, and it feels like it pops when I cough and when I bend over quickly, or do anything, in fact. Doing my swede in. And my toof is broken AGAIN. That'll be another £200. I need a new body, plz.

Summary:
BOO YAY WHINGE DESPAIR THE END.
gemsybobsy: (torchwood)
I visited Dr Gallagher again today. He nagged me about 'having it off' with 'a nice lad' again. Dr G quote of the day: 'It's inevitable that young lads will want to get their end away at some point.' Indeed. Everyone else has orgasms, I has trifluoperazine and an appointment for a chest x-ray. Shrug.

I watched United 93 tonight, and every time I think about it I cry. No other words, really.

FUN MEME! I'm just going to finish it tonight because I'm dead sick of it now. My favourite place is Moo Moo (it really is nothing to do with the band) and something that I miss? Ianto Fucking Jones. Some aspirations - writing, make goffband work and bring in monehs so I don't have to scrub as many gaffs, buy camper van or rent flat by myself, whatever, I just really want to buy some kitchen utensils. Another moment... um. Bringing Floyd home for the first time, starting my business. I got a puppy, an awesome new van and a new business in one week. This was four years ago next week. That time has gone terrifyingly quickly. I remember taking Floyd everywhere, sitting on the sofa stamping leaflets, driving around advertising and visiting vets and just enjoying not being in the office any more... it was blissful. Until the money woes and panic kicked in.

moar meame lawl )

Branefale.

Sep. 8th, 2010 06:11 pm
gemsybobsy: (ballet)
When I was 14, if you'd have asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I'd have probably said something like, 'Something I can just get on with and forget about when I'm at home and doing more fun things.' That is, if you had managed to get me to think about my life beyond that day, and past getting out of school and getting involved in a book, album or an episode of The X Files. Which would have been clever of you. And so it goes, that after years of hard work and dragging myself through shite (to be frank), I am finally there. I'm living my dream life. I have ADVENTURES. WITH DOGS. I pootle around the streets and potter around people's houses and my brain gets to do its daydreamy, thinky thing with nobody interfering or demanding anything of me. I (finally) earn good money doing all this pootling and pottering, and I can live very comfortably, fridgehouse issues aside. I have so much free time and can have more whenever I like; I can ask people if they'd mind swapping days because I want to swan off into London or nip to Germany. I can fit in lots of ballet. I'll be able to fit in gigs when we has them. The uni course is challenging me just enough. I'm the right amount of busy; not bored, not stressed. Perfect life. I am happy.

So why doesn't my brain realise I'm happy?

My favourite birthday was probably my 18th (awesome party) and something I regret... Hmmm. Two things: All those years spent trying to be something I'm not, and leaving Live8 before Pink Floyd. Palm, face, have you met?

moar meame lawl )

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