New Year

The New Year's Questionnaire

Instead of an actual update, I'm going to (once again) do this New Year's questionnaire.

In short, for those of you not reading my woefully irregular posts, 2012 sucked big time (and, after only 12 days, 2013 isn't looking great either, but it at least has time to improve).

OK, here we go.

Thanks again to Linda for this...

1. What did you do in 2012 that you'd never done before?

Oh, lots of things, but most of which I wouldn't recommend - getting wasted on muscat every night, becoming almost entirely nocturnal, bla, bla, bla. You get the picture.

2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

No real resolutions, but, having lost over 10 kg in the last 6 months, I am kind of hoping to be able to maintain my new weight.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yes! My friend Caroline in London had a little boy, Alexander, in November.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No, thankfully.

5. What countries did you visit?

Italy (Milan)

6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?

A steady income, mental stability, a normal life (as normal as my life can ever be)

7. What dates from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory and why?

28 August. If you know me, you'll know what happened on that night. If you don't, trust me, you don't want to know what happened that night. But the result of my actions that night is that I'm still in hospital 4.5 months later...

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Surviving

9. What was your biggest failure?

Not surviving very well at all

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Same allergies as every year now apparently, and then the 28 August fiasco

11. What was the best thing you bought?
A fabulous Cath Kidston handbag (in red, not green, though I'm tempted by the green too now) and matching purse - I adore them and I've had so many positive comments about them!


12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

C. Whilst still very much a little girl (she only turned 11 on 27 December), she's shown a great deal of maturity these last few months. Despite all the turmoil in her life (my fault, of course), and despite being the youngest in her class, she still finished the first term top of her class and I am extraordinarily proud of her.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

No one in particular. Maybe mine.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Same answer as last year: trying to keep me and my girls afloat

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Nothing.

16. What song will always remind you of 2012?

There are several, first two cover versions: my favourite song ever, Hallelujah, sung by Jeff Buckley, and then his version of Lilac Wine; and then the "Grey's Anatomy" songs - Breathe (Anna Nalick), Chasing cars (Snow Patrol), The Story (Brandi Carlile).

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

a) happier or sadder? I don't think I need to answer that, do I?

b) thinner or fatter? About 10 kg thinner

c) richer or poorer? Also about the same - too in debt, anyway

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Laugh, smile, see friends, go out, do things for me

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Cry, feel sorry for myself, indulge in bad behaviour

20. How did you spend Christmas?

"Alone" in the sense that the girls were in Paris with D and my dad went back to Scotland. But I wasn't actually alone (my psychiatrist won't let me be alone), I was here in the hospital. It was a little bleak and workhouse-y, but not as dismal as I thought.

21. Did you fall in love in 2012?

Not really, but I made some very good male friends (gay ones) and have started a relationship of sorts with a fellow patient here at the hospital.

22. What was your favourite TV programme?

I still enjoy Mad Men, but got totally hooked on Breaking Bad and True Blood as well. I started watching The Big Bang Theory and find it quite funny (rare, for me) so may get into that too.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

No

24. What was the best book you read?

I don't actually remember reading any books at all in 2012 - which appals me!
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Pffff, I'm waaay too old for this question

26. What did you want and get?

Nothing

27. What did you want and not get?

Love and affection until November

28. What was your favourite film of this year?

I don't seem to see films any more

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 43 (God help me) in May. To be honest, I can't really remember much about it.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Being loved

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012?

*snort*

32. What kept you sane?

Nothing, apparently, though I'd say that certain friends (many of whom are very far away) kept me alive

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Pat Monahan - still, but now accompanied by Alexander Skarsgard and Joe Manganiello from True Blood

34. What political issue stirred you the most?

I'm still not really interested in politics, but war being declared on Mali by France is scary stuff (though not, I suppose, technically in 2012)

35. Who did you miss?

My friends in England - I don't see them nearly often enough; my friend in South Africa

36. Who was the best new person you met?
Yacine

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012

Getting drunk on your own whilst watching depressing music videos all night is not the best way to battle bipolar disorder

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year
Two: first, the same as last year: it's from Train's early hit, "Meet Virginia":

"She pulls her hair back as she screams, "I don't really want to live this life!"
Second, from "Chasing cars" by Snow Patrol:

"If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world"

*blink*

Errr... Hi there...

It's been three months since I last wrote here and these three months have been one hell of a ride.

From the outside looking in, not a whole lot has changed. But from where I sit, trapped inside my body, staring out through the holes of my eyes, the world has pretty much turned upside down.

My head is broken and there doesn't seem to be anything that can fix it. The bad days are getting worse, the good days are really nothing more than just "slightly less bad" days.

The self-destructive behaviour is back, the long, lonely nights, the endless tears.

I have sought help, am getting help, but so far the help isn't even making a dent in fixing whatever is broken. And I am seriously starting to believe that there is no solution - or, rather, that there is only one solution, the final act I've been dancing around on and off my whole adult life.

That one, last, desperate act isn't really a solution in absolute terms, but it would put an end to all the pain inside my head, the pain in my thoughts, the nightmares.

I am, of course, too cowardly to make that final step, so I remain here, struggling through each day, wishing my life away.

And not writing here very often.

I will try and write more, but be prepared, there's no sunshine in me any more.

Level...errr....43?

Although technically (here in France at least) it now is not, today still feels like it's my birthday. 43. Heh.

I still find it pretty hard to believe that I'm actually that old. I mean, really? 43? That seems so impossibly grown-up, and I don't feel grown-up at all. I feel like I'm just pretending (badly) to be a grown-up...

Despite drinking too much of this delight last night:

and just 3 hours' sleep, I actually felt OK when I got up this morning. I received a book and a couple of DVDs from my dad, a CD of flamenco music from D and chocolates (provided by my dad) and this:

from the girls, which was perfect.

I received more wonderful birthday wishes through the post, via Twitter and via Facebook, all of which warmed my heart and made me feel loved.

The girls and I had roast chicken for lunch, followed by a tarte à la framboise topped with chantilly, with candles and the girls singing in French and English.

It was a fairly low-key birthday, but a surprisingly good day - particularly given how miserable and crap I've been feeling lately.

The melancholy is starting to return, of course, now that the "big day" is over, but I'm thankful for this day, even if we didn't do much, even if (to be totally peevish and ungrateful) I would have preferred a real cake to a raspberry tart (however nice it was), even if it would have been nice to go out and do something rather than spend the afternoon wading through a translation about Czech communism.

I'm grateful for all the birthday wishes I received - more than I ever have before, all so very much appreciated and savoured.

I'm 43. That's pretty much mid-40s, isn't it? Holy crap.

Every year, I seem to say that the previous year wasn't a good one but that I have hopes for the new one. Well, it would appear that Pat Monahan and the guys from Train have picked up on that - this song (though clearly about Pat Monahan's real life), or at least the chorus of it, could have been written for me!

Maybe, just maybe, this really WILL be my year...

Air

When you swirl down to the bottom of the pool, the bottom of the sea, you must try to find the light and head towards it. You need to come up for air, break out into the light.

Right now, as I feel the sand between my fingers and the seaweed entwined around my legs, I can only catch an occasional glimpse of the light.

I've been told that it's there, that it's the direction to take. But right now, that cold, damp, grainy sand sticking to my fingers, the leathery ribbon-like seaweed clinging to my skin, prevent me from breaking free of this watery cloak, prevent me from struggling back up to where there is light.

To where there is air to breathe.

A to Z Afterthoughts

As I get older (and boy, do I feel like I'm getting older...), the more I realise just how poor I am at self-discipline. Obviously, this makes my decision to be self-employed rather dubious, and most likely explains why my entire life is such a  monumental fuck-up.

I started this blog basically as a means for me to say what's in my heart, in my own language, in a way that suits me, in a place where I'm not judged. My aim has never been to become a star blogger (I don't want to be recognised, or published, or asked to speak at conferences, REALLY, I don't!) and I do nothing much of anything to boost my readership. That's not what this is about.

I'm a shy person, who finds it difficult to actually say things, out loud, to other people. I don't talk about my feelings easily. I don't show emotion easily (except when I do, and then it's generally humiliatingly flagrant). But I can WRITE about them. So that's what I do.

But, as I said, I lack self-discipline. So the blog languishes, at a paltry 3 or 4 posts a month, and even I'm not happy with that. Challenges such as the AtoZ Challenge are ideal for me - they force me to make the effort and actually write something every day, but not for an unrealistically long amount of time (because I'd never stick to it, of course).

I enjoyed the Challenge, and found a few blogs I've started following - Dave, Toddlerisms, Dawn, Liz and maybe one or two more. It's been great to make contact with some of these people, find things we have in common, new pathways for discussions. New horizons, so to speak.

If there's a new challenge at any point - later this year, or next year, or whenever - I'm pretty sure I'll sign up again. Till then, I'll make my usual promise to write here more often, even though we all know I won't be able to keep it.

But I will try to keep in touch with my new blog contacts.

Thank you, AtoZChallenge - you were fun!

Z is for...

Zut alors!

There's a classic image of the stereotypical Frenchman - stripey T-shirt, beret, bicycle, a baguette and some wine, maybe a Gauloise hanging out of his mouth - and the stereotypical Frenchwoman - outrageously chic, poodle on a lead, high heels clickety-clacking. And then there are those expressions we're always vaguely led to believe the French use but that we're all pretty sure they don't.

"Zut alors!" is one of those expressions, along with "Sacré bleu!" and "Comme çi, comme ça".

None of that's particularly interesting. But what I do find interesting is that, whilst I have never heard any French person ever say "Sacré bleu!", the other two are totally in use. The latter, "comme çi, comme ça", means "so-so" and is actually pretty standard.

The other, however, may seem utterly improbable but is in fact amazingly common. "Zut" is an interjection used by anyone wanting to make an interjection but without offending anyone (in the presence of small children, for example). I would never have imagined that people actually used it.

But they do.

So. This has been a pretty crappy day, in a pretty crappy week, in a pretty crappy month and in a pretty crappy year. The A to Z Challenge is now at an end (unless there are more letters in the alphabet that no one told me about), I'm really tired, my back aches from sleeping on the sofa while my dad's here, I'm hopelessly behind in my work and my financial situation - which everyone keeps promising me will improve - persists in absolutely not doing so.

All of which means there's really only one thing to say.

Zut, alors!

Y is for...

Yellow.

Contrary to what most of the entries on this blog might lead you to believe, my favourite colour is neither dark nor depressing. No, it's yellow. A bright, sunshiny yellow.

When I was a child, my mother had very set ideas as to what colours a redhead could and couldn't wear. In the former category, there was dark green, dark blue, brown, dark purple and grey. In the latter, all the others. Every photo of me from about the age of 4 up has me wearing one of those dull, drab colours. And I yearned for a yellow jumper. Or red. Or orange. Or anything not "dark".

Added to this was the fact that all British schools have uniforms, and they're frequently dull and drab too. In the many schools I attended, I had a navy blue uniform (white shirt, red tie), a hideous brown and yellow combo (yes, there was yellow, but the uniform was still predominantly brown), a dark green + kilt combo and, for my entire middle school period, a grey-green monstruosity (white-and-green striped shirt, beige jumper and socks, burgundy cape. Yes, a cape. An ankle-length cape).

As a teenager, my parents never gave me an allowance, so I still depended on my mother for the clothes I wore. She "let me choose", but I was never in any doubt as to what she thought suitable. I managed to get her to accept lilac and turquoise, but there was still a lot of dark - navy blue, dark purple, black. With my white, white skin I probably looked more like a corpse than anything.

It wasn't till I went away to university that I finally (eventually) plucked up the courage to wear clothes that friends told me suited me, but that I knew my mother would hate. Above-the-knee skirts, for example, and fitted clothes (my mother was obsessed with the fact that I was fat, even though I've never been fat in my life. Just fatter than her. But she weighed little more than 6 stone (around 90 pounds, maybe, or 40 kg) and was 4 inches shorter).

The day I travelled home for Christmas after my first term in St Andrews, I was wearing an emerald green shirt,  pale green mini-skirt and Doc Martens. My mother almost fainted.

It was liberating. After that "success", I went wild, wearing the wildest, brightest clothes on earth - I went to a formal dance pretty much dressed as a deck chair, with a red-yellow-white striped Lycra mini-dress, gold tights and red T-bar sandals with a vertiginous heel.

Now, I've calmed down a fair amount, but still don't buy into the French thing of wearing black all winter and navy, white and beige all summer. I do have black clothes, and some beige, a little white. No navy, though, and no dark green. Almost no brown, either.

I have yellow, though. I also have yellow kitchenware, yellow walls, yellow jewellry. It's a colour that brightens my mood (and heaven knows it's needed brightening of late), warms me up, makes me feel that there's something good in the world.

Yellow is a good colour.