Way back when I wrote that one about text message kisses, Panda didn’t think she had anything to write to accompany it. We’ve both been feeling a bit sorry for ourselves – for a whole bunch of different reasons – some big, some silly, some that mean more than they should and some that are just upsetting because we’re girls and being sulky is how we cope. You need a funk, sometimes. The lows make the highs higher, n’all that. After being silly and drunk on a friend’s sofa last week, I found a note we’d written on my phone. It said “take your own advice”. Us two here what write this mess and nonsense spend most days trying to give each other advice. But we don’t really listen to ourselves. So we’re starting to. Here’s my wonderful, funny, brave and awesome friend Panda, writing all by herself, and maybe MAYBE, taking her own advice. There is just nothing I can write to accompany it. Touché, Pandapants. x
I’m in a funk of 40000 years (3 days) Now I’m not normally one to publicly moan or whine but going back to the basics of this blog and the fact it was a way for me and Crumpet to tell each other our stuff I shall proceed with my story and try to keep it brief.
So if you read our body talk post you’ll know I was born with Spina Bifida. Although I can walk I have damaged nerve endings in my legs and feet and since the age of 12 have had various toes chopped off and other bits of bone. They’re wide and misshapen, I’ve not been able to wear anything except converse or big boots for about ten years and because of the missing toes my knees take a lot of weird weight baring and hurt like a mother fucker. I stopped working when I was 18 and was put on a disability allowance. This has NEVER been something I’ve been comfortable with. The whole benefits thing, sponging off the state and all that Jazz. So for the last three years I’ve been studying to be a counsellor as I figured I wouldn’t be on my feet all day and if they were really bad I could work from home.
What I really really want to do though is work with young people, I found being a teenager really fucking hard. Going into school on crutches or wearing hideous special shoes meant I got a lot of stick and no one to really talk to about it. Growing up is weird and difficult and to have a non judgemental understanding person to talk to would have been ace and may have meant I avoided my lost years where I went out and did a lot of drugs and generally acted like a bitter bastard. So my goal has been to work in a school, it’s all been going well, I’ve passed my diploma, I’ve been seeing a few private clients on a voluntary basis and I’ve set up doing some voluntary work in a secondary school a few mornings a week which I am/was due to start soon.
So what’s my facking problem then????? Well for the last few months my feet have been slowly deteriorating. My right one has been giving way on me and if I’m walking alone now its near on impossible. My left having taken more pressure has now started to ulcerate (yeah I’m hot) and my knees a painful twat. Basically if I’ve got no one to hold on to I’m walking like a spaz. On more than one occasion someone has pointed out that they saw me the other night blah blah blah cor you were bloody pissed weren’t you? Ummmm actually no, I just walk like a wobbly drunk now. I’ll watch people walk and not have to think about it and get small pangs of annoyance that every single step I take I’m aware of and it’s hard and I have moments of IT’S NOT BLOODY FAIR I WANNA RUN AND SKIP AND JUMP AND WEAR SEXY HIGH HEEL SHOES.
Over the years I’ve seen Dr after Dr and they’ve all been shit, one was obsessed with amputating my foot. Another didn’t recognise an infection till it turned into gangrene, I had bloody GANGRENE……It was quite trippy actually. Anyway yeah I’m not under any proper health professional and I’m left pretty much to deal with it myself. This latest turn of events though has forced me to book an appointment with my GP and just hope that they can put me in touch with someone who knows what they are doing. I don’t wanna end up never going out because I’m scared I’ll fall over if I do.
So I’m feeling sorry for myself, how the fuck can I go work in a school if I can’t even walk into the building, I have visions of a hoard of teenagers calling me a drunk and sticking spastic signs to my back. I’m also having to fill in forms regarding my disability because of Cameron and his reform and it’s just rubbish. I WANT to get back to work, but I can’t yet, I hate being on benefits but errr could you not take them off me at the moment please.
So there’s my three-day funk, all I actually want to do is wallow in it. Roll around in my own misery like a dog in its own shit. Buy a lot of lounge wear and watch endless repeats of Jeremy Kyle. Or as I found myself this morning, crying in my car listening to Kermit the frog sing Rainbow connection whilst I stuffed a fresh cream éclair into my face. Then Crumpet told me to take my own advice. I’m a fucking counsellor this is what I DO…….But I know it takes work and sometimes its easier to get lost in the bluurgghh than climb your way out. But three days is my limit for feeling shit so now’s the time to sort it out.
My first question is always ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ Well regarding my benefits I’ll probably have to have some meeting about my ‘disability’ if they deem me fit for work then great, they can help me find something suitable that works round my health stuff and the fact I have a three and six-year-old. This is not a bad thing, yes things may change, maybe I’ll lose some money but I’m not about to be made homeless so I WILL survive.
So in regards to my health, the worst worst case scenario for me has always been that I’ll end up loosing my legs and that’s a BIG worse case scenario. What if I did, it happens to people, I’d get pretty falseys and hell I’d be able to wear lovely shoes again WIN. What I’m hoping’ll happen is that I find a DR who knows what he’s talking about who will prevent me from having anything else amputated and can maybe give me something to help with my balance. I saw on a website the other day that they actually make false big toes. Imagine the party tricks you could do with one of them.
I’m not dying, I’ve got amazing hair and a pretty face, this is my life to do with what I want and at the end of the day although it might not always seem like it I AM in control and I make the choices.
So I can choose to be miserable or choose to get over it and get happy. If I want to be a counsellor then regardless of whether my walkings a bit doolaly I’ll be a bloody counsellor. I know how good at it I am so why should anything stop me. We create our own lives and our own futures, to sit back and blame the world for the stuff you have going on is giving up all your power. It’s not the situation itself but how you view it that counts. If my ulcer gets worse I’ll have to bed rest for a few days. I can see that as ‘Oh for fuck sake I can’t go out this is so unfair and boring’ Or ‘Yipeee three days in bed endless tweeting and watching films’
So there we go, funk over… As one of my dearest always says to me ‘Keep on trucking little viking’ and that’s it isn’t it. You get your dream and you work for it and you over come the obstacles in your way. If there were no obstacles imagine how boring it would be… Like a level of Mario with no Ghosts to run past, or pumpkins to squash or Bowser to defeat. It’s that satisfaction of getting through the shit bits of life that make the good bits so good.
So next time you find yourself in a funk, let yourself wallow for a bit. Eat cake, have a cry, spank your inner monkey and all that. Then fucking smash that funk to pieces, it’s not a problem it’s a challenge and when you get through it (Which you will) It’s gonna feel bloody fantastic.