Time elapsing.

Sometimes, I feel as though life is just passing me by. It’s the end of July already, what have I accomplished in 2017?

I’m on my THIRD job of the year. On one hand, I feel like an absolute job-getting machine and despite some not-so-happy working experiences, I have managed to pad out my CV with some pretty decent skills. On the other, I have outgrown the type of working environment I’m in, that’s my diagnosis on this job dissatisfaction malarkey.

I’m an intelligent person, I find bureaucracy frustrating to the point of madness. I’m a free thinker, a decision maker… I need opportunities to put my ideas into practise. I value individuality, creativity, open communication, morality, COMMON SENSE. Working for companies that value basic branding (i.e, appealing to a society afraid of change) over progression, is severely limiting to me.

Anywaaaay, this is all good and fine because maybe, just maybe (don’t get too excited), I’m ready to start thinking about a career vs a job. I was happy being just a small cog in a big machine when I was spending every penny I took home on fun, but now my priorities are changing. I have goals (beyond getting drunk at the weekend and buying the entire new MAC collection), I have dreams of a real future.

I guess, as with everything in my life, this takes me back to depression. As someone who has struggled with severe depression since childhood, there have been many points in my life where I wasn’t able to imagine a future, when I couldn’t imagine tomorrow.

I am in a good place right now, in my mind. I am 18 months seizure free, I am sleeping well, eating well, allowing myself to just BE and enjoying it.

My job is physically hard, so I’m looking at it as a bootcamp, instead of a job… A bootcamp I get paid to attend. I will be leaving in September to finish my degree and find my career.

So, in conclusion, besides not having much to show for the year, I’ve gained so much. A sense of worth, confidence, focus… We are back on track my friends.

 

Also, here’s my weekly progress form Fitbit ūüôā

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A-MAY-zing- get it??

I still haven’t settled into ‘diet mode‘.

My job is stressing me so much, migraines are making an appearance again… I need afternoon naps just to cope with life right now. I’ve started job hunting again and actually found a role that looks really interesting, but I also want to get back to uni in September and the time is a tick-a-tocking.

My dog is doing well post-surgery, he went to visit the surgeon today for an 8 week followup and the dude stamped¬†on his tail, I’ve never heard him cry out like it before! He then peed everywhere and hid under a chair, my poor boy. The vet proclaimed “His tail wasn’t there a second ago, he moved it under my foot!”… A veterinary surgeon who doesn’t realise that a dog can move his tail independently? Just mildly concerning! Haha. This vet is also THE ONLY¬†that he doesn’t seem to like, even¬†BEFORE the tail stepping incident. Weird guy, but he fixed my furbaby, so I’m ok with it.

Here’s my fitbit report –

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Massive weight fluctuations

Urghhhh, why are things always so overly complicated!

I got a new digital scale – the Fitbit Aria and after weighing in at 23lbs lighter than the old analogue knocking around in the house, I decided to opt for tracking trends instead of relying on that number… Which turns out, is far easier said than done…

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So, as you can see, fluctuations galore! These were all morning weigh-ins, naked and post-bathroom, the scales didn’t move from the spot (on hard floor). The two guest weigh-ins are from friends of mine and they were bang on.

I guess it isn’t far fetched to imagine that a body as big as mine can fluctuate 25lbs in water, etc., but STILL… Frustrating much?!

Perseverance is my friend!

Anyone else experienced annoyances this dramatic?

New job, ‘Girls’ & dogs (and maybe a bit of weight loss!)

¬†Sorry I’ve been AWOL.. Here’s an update!

I started temp work, got an assignment in a nice office. After a week, I was offered an interview for a permanent role… I interviewed casually, I wasn’t bothered about getting it or not, there were plusses and minuses to each scenario. I got it.

And then, of course, it turned to shit! I need to be self-employed, people are just SO incompetent. Once again, working for the corporate machine, with the idiotic middle-managers and endless complaints from people (who think they’re your only client) is just not going to cut it for me.

 

My job is basically picking up the company shit without a poop bag.

NEXT!

‘Girls’… OMG, OMG, OMG. I love this show and I’ve binge watched it so hard, the last episode (with Adam and Hannah and Jessa), uffffffff… Only two eps left?! I don’t want it to be over, but I can’t wait to watch from the beginning!

NEXT!

My furbaby had an op a few weeks back, it was a stressful time but he’s well and truly on the mend and I’m over the moon that he’s doing well. He had his first hydrotherapy session today =)

The only thing that gets me through the days, right now, is the thought of coming home to my boys for cuddles. They are everything to me.

NEXT!

I weighed myself at the weekend and I’ve lost 4lbs… I’ve ordered a new scale, so I’m looking forward to getting that and sorting myself out properly!

 

Quitting your job after a week.

Yes, that’s what I did.

I HATED every minute of it. I need to be challenged, stimulated, motivated… I can’t just stand around all day doing NOTHING. I learnt this when I started the job, of course.

I mean, in my interview, I said in basic English “I like being busy, I like projects, I like targets, I like curveballs.” I was met with nods and enthusiasm… That’s what we like, that’s what this job is like, this job is suited to you! Those nods were just lies. Ok, maybe not lies… But it’s all relative, isn’t it. People said to me on the job “Oh god, it’s so busy today!” flustered and flapping, and I just looked at them with bemusement “Ok…”

I spoke to my supervisor, after she penalised me for being late (because she wrote the time in the wrong format on our rota), maybe I insulted her with “I’m used working in an environment with a much faster pace and a lot of responsibility”, but she dismissed my attempt at enquiring on how I should go about resigning, ensuring me that we would be so unbearably busy I’d be eating my words in just a few hours time…

I was left with the shoes. Shoes, glorious shoes! “I hate being on shoes” – Everybody. I suppose walking back and forth between the shoe display and the¬†stockroom is a bit too much like hard work, when you’re used to doing nothing? Anyway, I actually found it quite enjoyable…¬†I could get used to this! I mused.

Then my supervisor intercepted me,

“Walk and talk with me, walk and talk.”¬†I walked¬†“Do you mind talking to me, about your epilepsy… I didn’t know you were epileptic, did you tell them in your interview?”

“Yes.” Ok, what has this got to do with anything.

“I wasn’t told about this, what did she say to you?”

“Nothing, I just told her when she asked me about medical conditions in relation to manual handling and ladders, to be on the safe side.” I laughed, let’s make light of this, it’s not a big deal.

“Well, we’ll need to risk assess you. You know, we won’t be able to send you back of house, in case you have a fit, so… You won’t be able to go to the stockroom, and do you mind telling your colleagues? So they know you can’t go to the stockroom? It’s nothing to worry about, we wouldn’t exclude you for your disability, but you will need to be risk assessed by a manager when you’re in next, we have to do everything by the book.”

I’m not going to lie, I’m not a violent person, but I felt like knocking the bitch out. How dare she make assumptions about my ‘disability’, how dare she speak to me about personal matters on the shop floor, in earshot of other staff members and customers, how dare she take away my beloved shoes?!!?! I got a little bit tearful in that moment, the frustration, the overwhelming emotions related to this stupid diagnosis… She looked me dead in the eye, she saw I was upset, she turned and walked away.

I spent the next hour of my shift manning the fitting room, gritting my teeth and processing the conversation… 3pm, time to go home, but no one came to ‘take me off’, so I waited, getting more and more angry and upset and hating myself just as much as the¬†stupid vacuous woman who put me in this mood. Twenty five minutes felt like a lifetime, and when the sweet girl came to relieve me and apologised, as she’d been sent on her break late, I snapped at her and stormed off to the till point. FIVE¬†staff members patrolled the area, you know, in wait of the horde¬†of customers who would soon be arriving! The supervisor was blocking my path, I needed to sign out and quickly, before I combusted.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m going home (30 minutes late, you vile wench).”

“Ok, do you know when you’re in next? Monday”

I called out a goodbye, no one responded. This really is an unfriendly environment, I thought, as I left the job for good.

I went straight to my friends’ house and ranted, then burst into tears. “Leave” they proclaimed, “Fuck them!” they assured. I went home to my Mum “Leave” she said, angered. I emailed my resignation with immediate effect to HR. Goodbye.

Anyway, on Wednesday, I went and got a new job. It’s not the end of the world.

Another lesson in never asking for help.

I have a job interview tomorrow, it’s just a sales assistant position, but I haven’t been to an interview in a long time. I’m nervous. I’ve researched the company (A LOT) to try and prepare as much as possible but there are a few questions I’ve come across that I’m not too sure about.. I’ve worked in retail before, but not in a high street store.

I’ve already expressed my fears to my family, not just about the interview, but the prospect of going back to work at all.

This is where we need some background information!

In October 2015 I was diagnosed as epileptic. I’ve been epileptic since I was about seven, I was misdiagnosed. Anyway, it’s a long story… I didn’t know anything about epilepsy (at all) until¬†the occupational health nurse at my old job suggested it (June 2015) following an ‘episode’ at work. I had to leave my role immediately for H&S reasons, I was offered work in a less safety critical position within the company, but it was a lot to come to terms with. I chose to leave while I awaited an appointment with a neurologist (and an official diagnoses), at the time I¬†thought it’d be a great opportunity to concentrate on my final year of university (huge mistake, let’s save that for another time).

Biggest trigger for a seizure? STRESS.

Back to the present.

My sister works as a sales assistant in a rival store. She left school at 16 with no qualifications, no aspirations, no confidence. I got her that job. I wrote her CV, I did the psychometric test online, I filled out the entire online application. I helped her choose an outfit, I talked her through a typical interview, I researched the company for her. I supported her, I believed in her.

Today I asked her for some advice, because¬†there were a few industry-specific questions I’d found, that could potentially be asked in the interview, that I was unsure of. Did I receive any help? Did I *BLEEP*!

She told me she was ‘too tired’ to give me some simple advice. Instead, she needed to go and sit at her computer talking to strangers online on her PC game.

I cried. Not because I even NEED her help, but because she is so self involved. The fact she can’t even spare ten minutes to help me, or offer me some support and encouragement when she *should* know what a big deal this is for me is hurtful.

Did I see myself as a 28 year old university dropout, unemployed, living back with my parents and 130lbs heavier two years ago? No, no I did not. I’m trying to reclaim my life, and the people who I have loved and supported (and am still supporting, because I CARE)¬†can’t be there for me when I need them.

Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe I wish I could be as¬†cold, so blissfully¬†unfazed by the people around me and their feelings. It¬†goes back to my previous rant on emotional vampires, she takes what she needs, but she gives nothing back. I shouldn’t be surprised, she has a serious track record for letting me down. To add insult to injury, I can still hear¬†her talking to and laughing at her computer (over an hour later).

Anyway, all of this upset and instead of focusing on my interview preparation, I’m focusing on my sister. Isn’t that sweet, sweeeeet irony!

Lesson I must learn; The more you help people, the more they expect… It never encourages them to be more considerate, if anything, it seems to deter it.

Back to thinking about the interview

 

 

GP fail. A rage-fuelled post.

UPDATE

My GP was utterly useless, if this comes as any surprise? I explained in detail that¬†my last focused attempt at weight loss was successful, but I had turned to comfort eating when life threw endless curveballs at me, to get me back to this point. 335lbs, give or take. I told him that¬†although I know I can lose weight (as evidenced last time), I can’t motivate myself to to do so during the peaks and troughs of clinical depression.

He told me to start taking antidepressants¬†again, I’m not allowed to take antidepressants¬†long-term because it can reduce the effect of my other medication (which is more immediately important), hence ‘weaning’ off it 4 times in the past year and a half. The torturous inconsistency of being told by the¬†GP, that I had to wean off as a matter of urgency, then told I must¬†start up on it again, back and forth, highs and lows. It’s like putting a plaster on a gunshot wound. I almost screamed with rage.

Anyway, then he printed off a ‘leaflet’, 3 columns: Low-fat foods, medium-fat foods, high-fat foods. “Try and swap foods in this column *points to 3* with foods in this column *points to 1*, you should see some good results.”

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Teeth gritted, I thanked him politely and left… Before I had the chance to grab him by his mop of hair and smash his face through the wall.

He didn’t even weigh me. He didn’t offer me any tests. He didn’t offer me any help, other than to advise me to try¬†a low-fat diet, which isn’t even a good idea for someone with my health condition (from my own research about it).

I have a BMI of 47. I read the NICE guidelines on obesity, with a BMI of over 40,¬†I fulfil the criteria¬†for weight loss surgery, bypassing the referral schemes and medications. I AM NOT HEALTHY and my GP won’t help me. I don’t even want surgery, but I also read about a team of people who prepare morbidly obese people for surgery; dieticians and psychologists… THOSE ARE THE PEOPLE I NEED.

But it’s not going to happen, this is the real world and this is my real life. I’m on my own, it’s all on me.

And for everyone who loves the NHS so much, I’m glad you won the postcode lottery. I think my next post will be about the times my¬†immediate family members and I have been failed.