I Don’t Cave To McDonald’s!

This is a blog about depression. If you are easily offended or take offence to my very sarcastic humour, please do not read any further. Mental illness is not a joke; it is not something to point fun at and I fully understand that. BUT…when the going gets tough, sarcasm and humour is my defence and so I will be parading it around all over this blog.

 

If you need help, please get it. Whilst I hope this has a happy ending, I don’t know yet and given I’ve not been able to fix myself, I really don’t want others using this as a ‘How To Be Happy for Beginners v2.0’

 

 

I sleep for a lot longer than planned. It’s 09:45 when I finally emerge from my room! Friend KH has not only gotten up, she’s also fed Baby HH, dressed Child MH, taken Child MH to nursey and then taken the dogs to the vet. I feel very lazy. Oh well, at least it was a great night’s sleep. It’s such a relief to be sleeping again. Last week’s insomnia bout was not fun. We have breakfast and some baby cuddles before starting to pack and head off. Friend KH is heading to her parents for the weekend so we are both packing. I’ve got one night at home and then I catch a train north of the M25 for a friend’s wedding this weekend. I’ve not taken the train in ages. Having a car has meant I’ve always driven. Firstly, it’s cheaper than train tickets these days, secondly, you can arrive and depart whenever suits you. I’m looking forward to the train though. I can read on the way there and watch the scenery go past. Funnily enough, when you are driving, neither of those activities is recommended. Plus, having discovered megabus sells train tickets, it’s also a bargain. Friend KH asks how I feel about the wedding this weekend. Mixed is the honest answer. I’m excited, for obvious reasons, but also, a little concerned how I’ll handle so many people I don’t know. Friend FH, who’s wedding it is, has amazingly booked me accommodation at the venue so if it gets too much for me, I can easily slip away. It’s a huge relief.

 

Just before setting off, I post the card to Father. It’s still annoying me that I signed for Sister. I also decide I may as well drive the detour to Mum’s to get rid of this large, bulky, heavy item for mum. If I don’t do it now, it’ll be weeks. It’ll add about 45 minutes onto my journey which doesn’t sound too bad but I really want to get home. Maybe I can treat myself to a McDonalds for doing a good deed?

 

I set off and rapidly consume quite a lot of the pick n’ mix from yesterday. Oops. Well, I’m not having lunch, I tell myself, so this is ok. The journey isn’t too bad and I am setting off from Mum’s quicker than I thought I would be. The mental wrestling match starts. To have a McDonalds or not to have a McDonald’s, that is the question. As I approach the roundabout near my flat, I head down the road towards the McDonalds. I know, in my recent posts I’ve been stating how much I dislike my size. It’s all true but that doesn’t stop me wanting to comfort eat. My desire of McDonald’s is probably somewhat related to my nerves about this weekend. At the last minute, I convince myself not to go to the drive through. Before I know it, I am reversing the car into its parking space. I’ve done it, I’ve avoided a binge-fest. Another sign I am moving in the right direction.

 

I enter the flat to two talking cats. They are very pleased to see me. In the same way having Child MH excited to see me, it’s lovely to know they missed me. I know, really, they missed the food and cuddles but I tell myself it’s me. Also, I’ve been very lax with them recently and they’ve been chilling out in my bedroom rather a lot. They know me coming home will mean the bedroom door being opened. I have things to do. I’d originally planned to head for a swim but that’s gone out the window. I may have been able to avert a McDonald’s trip but that’s the limit of my self-control for the day. In fact, I plonk myself on the sofa with some biscuits. I do a few chores but don’t do the thing that really needs doing, packing. The train is at 10:26 tomorrow. To avoid a panic attack on the bus, I am planning to leave a spare 45 minutes to get to the station. That means an early morning. Packing tonight is really the only option but I continue to put it off. In fact, cleaning the litter tray and scooping the cat’s poo is more appealing. I think (which should read, I know) that the other reason I am feeling sensitive about the weekend is weddings always thrust in your face just how single and alone I am. I know I am not the only single in the country, I know that ‘there’s still time’ but oh wow, this mixed with seeing Friend KH and RH having such a lovely family really makes me jealous. So, instead of tackling the problem, I sit on the sofa with the blinds down and talking to my cats. I can’t understand why I’ve not been snapped up already with that heady combination.

 

To put off the shower decision too, I call Mum. You know it’s bad if calling Mum is higher up the ‘easy to do’ list than packing. She has missed me, she has been worrying about me. She is dreading the hospital family morning on Saturday but she’s doing it just for me. She tells me how much this shows she supports me. The round of ‘when are you going back to work’ questions start too. She thinks that because she is going on Saturday, it somehow correlates to my return to work. I am not sure how this logic works but as far as I am aware, there is no connection. Yes, I do want to go back to work, yes, I understand already this won’t be helping my career but honestly, I am sick of justifying my sick leave. I obviously needed it so would Mum please just stop asking. 30 minutes of Mum grilling later and I say bye. I think she was in the middle of saying something to me but I don’t know nor care what is was at this point.

 

This would be a great time to run a bath, do a face mask, exfoliate, shave and all other manners of a beauty regime in readiness for Friend FH’s big day. Do I though? No. No I do not. I tidy they flat, I carelessly throw some clothes into the case, I hang up some clothes, I clean the fridge, I sort recycling (yes, it’s back again!) and stack the dishwasher. I also realise I am stressing about the train tickets. They were considerably cheaper than normal and I only have an email to prove I did in fact pay for them. What if they are fake? Thankfully, Friend GG is at the other end of my text to tell me not to worry, they are not fake, they will be real, they will allow me to travel.

 

Finally, at 0130, I’m a rather sweaty mess that is ready to sleep. The case is packed bar the dress I am planning to wear to the wedding. I am not sure if it’ll do up. It was rather tight when doing it up for Sister’s wedding party so the pick n’ mix and cheese over the last few days won’t have helped. I’ll try it on tomorrow, after my shower. I should also own up to the fact, it’s been in the ‘hand washing’ pile since my Sister’s wedding party without actually making it to be washed. I’m using that strange logic that, because it has been sat there so long, it has magically self-cleaned. I have also heavily sprayed it with some Jo Malone Linen Spray. The stuff of dreams hey. My hair is back at McDonald’s greasy even though I washed it on Wednesday at Friend’s RH and KH’s house.

 

Oh to be a cat!

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