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I HATE BEING CHRONICALLY ILL

Anxiety, Career, Cats, Damn like or damn comment on my damn blog! Thank you., Employment, Fatigue, Happiness, I'd like to sit down please, Insanity, It's not fair, Life is hard, MS, Multiple Sclerosis, Sexy foxes, Why aren't I Patti Smith?

September is like January Pt 2 for teachers. And probably some non-teachers as well. Like the first official month of the calendar year, I’m having a ‘dry’ September after a reasonably alcoholic summer. And I’ve made both a mind map and a to-do list. Which proper disrupted my sleep last night with list induced panic. Horror show. Disclosure: one item on aforementioned list is WRITE BLOG POST. So don’t think I’m doing this out of kindness, alright?

The first list item is: PAY MONEY INTO BANK. I’ve put a line through that one. And it’s only 10:17. Go me *rolls eyes*. 

And this is why I HATE BEING CHRONICALLY ILL. 

My walking is all difficult today, so instead of making my way through town looking all ‘together’ like a woman in a sanitary product advert, I weaved all about the pavement, in serious danger of veering into actual traffic, probably presenting as a drunk – which would be fine if I was, in reality, drunk – but I’m at the start of a dry month. And I’ve a new haircut that I alternate between HATING and REALLY QUITE LIKING but this morning it added to my woes by making me look like a DERANGED MANIAC/SMALL BOY/HARASSED HOUSEWIFE IN A KITCHEN SINK DRAMA DIRECTED BY KEN LOACH. 

And. 

Despite my friends saying stuff like, “well, you never really liked being a teacher…” THAT’S NOT THE POINT. Yes, when I could work, I complained incessantly, always boring on about wanting to go part time, BUT NOW, I’m totally envious of my teacher husband/friends starting the 16/17 school year today. IT’S NOT FAIR. Work means colleagues and intellectual stimulation and money. AND NOT FEELING LIKE A TOTAL LOSER BECAUSE YOU DON’T WALK RIGHT AND YOU GET SO TIRED AND NEED A REST AND YOUR WRITING IS TERRIBLE BECAUSE YOU ARE BROKEN. 

So. I feel great. Have a nice day. That’s one more item crossed off. 

END OF POST. 

Here’s looking at you, kid. 

Anxiety, Career, Employment, Happiness, MS, Multiple Sclerosis, Sorry Morrissey, Vegetarianism, Worry

Yesterday, I went into ‘my’ school to drop off ‘my’ laptop, keys, id badge and to collect my stuff, teacher stuff, you know, pencil cases, laminator, mini guillotine thing, from ‘my’ classroom. And that was the end of my career as a teacher.*  

90s callback! Oh Egg…

  

Pardon? Say that again? Well, I can’t make out what you’re saying if you don’t enunciate, boy! Jesus. How do I feel? Er. I dunno. A little defeated, a little melancholy, a little unsure of my place in the world. Out of sorts. Alas, like Icarus I overreached! 

But as C, wise as ever, has told (texted) me: A failed experiment is better than one not tried at all. In the words of Aliyah, another wise woman, I better ‘dust myself off and try again’. 
So. This is an opportunity, I guess, to take a good long look at my life and try to answer that near impossible question, what is it that I actually want? Whilst still earning a sufficient amount to cover the bills/at least some fun stuff obvs. 

Something’s just occurred to me, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before? MS is a total and complete kleptomaniacal bastard. 

My plan is then, to stay positive – can we turn that frown upside down! 

An aside: *book recommendation siren* I just finished reading Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Harari and, in the final chapters, he talks about happiness, about how as individuals we each have a kind of innate happiness setting, like how air-con maintains a specific room temperature, and I think mine is probably about a four, so staying positive? Tricky. D’s however is an annoying seven, so I can’t worry too much about breaking my next decision to him because, he’s a seven! He’ll get back to that pretty quickly. He’s a resilient fellow. So here goes. After eating tonight’s undoubtedly delicious chicken based dinner, I will no longer be consuming meat!** For reasons most people figure out when they’re thirteen. Not thirty-five. Better late than never, eh Morrissey! Morrissey? Come back, Morrissey! 

 
That’s the extent of my plan thus far.***

I’m sure I had more I wanted to share, but the sky has full on clouded over, and my brain has ceased to function. Well, not entirely so you don’t need to call an ambulance or anything. What is it with you taking everything I say so literally? Man. 

See ya. 

*You’re right, I will be doing some supply, but to earn a living, not as a career. 

**We’ll discuss this. 

***There’s a bit more irl.