Change in the wind says I

Morning, 

Collapsing onto my sofa in my newly turned round living room (one of mine and Mr Warehouse's COVID Jobs to do up the house during lockdown) I was exhausted. As I listened and watched my future husband play on his Xbox I faded in and out of of my surroundings, sometimes falling asleep for mere moments and others just zoning out. I was burnt out and the last few weeks had been mental workwise which had lead to the position I was that Tuesday evening last week. 

You see, I had suffered from mental health issues before and with my depression and anxiety around certain things I was able to curb that and knew when it was coming and how the dark black cloud felt. But this was different and it had been building up and up for several weeks. And so after speaking with my doctors, they signed me off with work-related stress for a fortnight. I was shocked to say the least and as I tried to explain to the HR person I felt incredibly guilty, exhausted, stressed, tired and relieved all at the same time as feeling as though I was letting down customers, engineers and staff alike. And so after a brief discussion with my HR department (lady) the company took the decision to place me on furlough instead. 

Financially this would make me better ff as I would be on basically full pay for the fortnight my doctor has advised and should the worst happen whereby either there is not enough work for me to come back to or I am signed off for longer, as before my pay will be at 80% my normal salary (as paid by the government under the Coronavirus Job Retention scheme) rather than the minimal Statutory Sick Pay (SSP) which is approximately £90 per week. This being said however I made it quite clear that I wanted i noted and on file that the issues were as a direct result of work-related stress, something I had been trying to explain and communicate for weeks.   

Nevertheless, the "Free-Time" I have had, albeit a few hours in the day since I still need to drop Mr Warehouse to and from work every day has been nice. So far I have been able to keep up with some gardening, get into the kitchen to bake many a sweet treat including a monster of a white chocolate cheesecake that we are still trying t work our way through, despite giving a third away to Big Brother Warehouse and his brood. 

I am hoping that my time out of the "workplace" or whatever you want to call it can make for some time to craft and DIY. I have acquired my grandmother's old writing bureau and have plans to revamp it with navy chalk paint and golden metalwork to match the living room's luxe gold and dark blue theme. I plan on finishing off the crafts I started but never finished such as my pebble lamp and once I finish that, I plan on starting a few more including upcycling some white trainers into some 101 Dalmatian inspired sneakers and turning some frumpy looking creps into some bedazzling jewelled kicks to wear on the dancefloor once my feet get tired from the heels on my wedding day. And if I get all of that completed I have a long list of other things I want to either get some or at least get on top of for our upcoming nuptials including welcome signs, decor and even one of those fancy Captin Bride Hats I have seen on Pinterest that I refuse to spend £60+ on when I can just use some materials and gems to achieve the boujee look. 

Ideally, I would like to create some built-in shelves in the living room and even wallpaper the downstairs WC, although I think these are mainly weekend jobs for when I have an extra pair of helping hands. It seems as though we are all going to have many more of these bank-holiday-inspired weekends where everyone either does DIY or gardening. It seems as though "New Normal" and anything relatively life-enhancing is still off the books. With figures from the BBC that state that whilst the confirmed new cases of coronavirus in the UK are over 1,500 today alone, the death toll has significantly dropped to just 121 today alone (Monday 25 May 2020). Boris Johnson's statement to the nation several weeks ago gave us all some hope, and confusion plenty. 

I am just praying that we can get away in July and that the restrictions are lifted before 5th July, enabling our little family in the making to head for the beaches and beauty spots of Cornwall, although I fear that we will wither be amongst the disappointed millions, or the very first lucky few. Things are looking hopeful however, with airlines starting up at the beginning of June and July and promises of places like restaurants and cafe's being open beginning of July, I am hoping for the latter.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

5G Fake News or a Food For Thought?

Evening All, 

Following our last catch-up last week, I eventually heard back on the contractual changes being put in place in order to action Furlough amongst employees. Thankfully I am not one of them and continue to serve both my country and my company for another few weeks at least. I am continuing to work in whatever capacity that I can but for the most part, this is doing my normal job, full time and fully paid! As long as I am doing something, my bit if you will, then I am happy. And as I said, with no kids, childcare issues at nil, twenty-minutes drive from the office and having never taken ill since working for the company I would like to hope that this will continue for as long as it can, and fingers crossed that is soon so we can all go back to normal. 

So as I now welcome in week number two as officially working from home and Day 19 in self-isolation (not by my choice I might add) I am starting to get into a bit more of a swing of it. Admittedly it is still weird and strange, working from home with my little desk set up with Mr Warehouse's gamer headset and a picture of the dogs in the corner. Odd to think that this is my new norm. Only a few weeks ago, life was normal. I was eating out and cocktails at restaurants with Miss Hackney and Miss SugarCoat, Cups of coffee and Cinema trips with Miss Tweedle-Dee - All just a distant memory. I never thought that life would be as different now. 

As a nation, we are still awaiting another chat with our dear Boris (Johnson, our Prime Minister, and a secret hunk of mine) although after coming down with the dreaded COVID-19 Coronavirus and being sent to ICU at London's St Thomas Hospital, I doubt that it will come very soon. That being said we, as the British Nation tuned in yesterday to listen to Liz (Queen Elizabeth II) talk us through what she described as a different challenge to those we have faced before. The BBC broadcast went on with the Queen who is now ninety-three bless her said the "painful sense of separation from their loved ones" that social distancing was causing for people reminded her of the experience child evacuees had during the Second World War.

Although the last week had got me thinking outside the box?! What happens if this was created? Manufactured? Constructed by a sick individual in order to gain financially or get their rocks off on the hundreds of thousands, if not millions by the time this goes out dying. Or worse - What if it is multiple people? An organisation? Illuminati maybe? No?!

A website called Wired.co.uk dived deep into the speculation that seems to be hitting social media around the links between 5G and the deadly COVID-19 Coronavirus. From an interview with an obscure Belgian doctor to apparent arson attacks in the UK, the conspiracy theory that 5G is somehow linked to the coronavirus pandemic has spread unlike any other and gained a huge following by celebrities alike including Dancing On Ice judge Jason Gardiner, Actor Woody Harrelson and Boxer Amir Khan. Even TV Darling Amanda Holden tweeted it before revoking it saying she "didn't know what it was about".

Now I know what you are thinking - What? Phone signals and 5G and Coronavirus flu? That is the most ludicrous link anyone can ever make, especially for someone such as myself who loves a Shane Dawson Conspiracy Series on YouTube! But hear me out as the more I read into it the more it seems plausible. It started with a Belgian newspaper (Het Laatste Nieuws) who published an interview they had done with Kris Van Kerckhoven, a GP doctor from a small town near Antwerp on 22nd January this year. 

Headlined with "5G is life-threatening, and no one knows it” which has now since been deleted from its website caused waves that have burned through social media and the internet. But it has not just remained online, oh no as the wild conspiracy theory has now broken out into the real world because not only did this Belgian Academic claim that 5G was dangerous, he also said it might be linked to coronavirus which was soon to sweep the planet. Obviously, at the time of publication, the outbreak was barely making international news. It wasn't relevant in the western world. So far the Virus had claimed just nine lives and infected 440 people with almost all of them in the Chinese city of Wuhan. The Belgian news article went on to state that since 2019, numerous 5G cell towers had been erected in and around Wuhan. 

Now Dr. Van Kerckhoven did caveat the statement with the notion that he had not checked all of his facts and that it should not be taken as gospel, however he had suggested the link and therefore the touchpaper was set on fire. Quickly picked up by anti-5G campaigners, Facebook and many other outlets linked to and quoted from the article. And so the snowballing and (forgive the pun) Chinese whispers started. Claims were made that this was proof of something very dark indeed happening with the rollout of 5G, an upgrade in mobile technology superseding its predecesors (3G and 4G), enabling faster browsing and allowing us to do things like watching videos, stream music or scroll through timelines, all whilst on the move. But this idea that Dr. Van Kerckhoven was peddling wasn’t new. In fact, it has been bubbling away quietly for a few decades. Someone's old chip shop paper you may say, especially when compared to the unfounded concerns about high-voltage power lines in the 1980s, mobile phones in the 1990s and that dreaded millennium bug that was going to end the world. 

Het Laatste Nieuws editor Dimitri Antonissen soon took down the article from publication and the website stating that “the quotes were unfounded and we regret the fact that the story was online for a few hours”. But it was far too late, the cat was well and truly out of the bag and running for the fucking hills. So? Does 5G worsen the effects of the COVID-19 coronavirus by weakening your immune system? Is it true that 5G outright causes coronavirus-like symptoms? Is the coronavirus lockdown is being used as cover-up to install 5G networks that can tap into and listen to everything? Is that Bill Gates bloke in on it all? Or is it that this is all an Illuminati mass-murder plot to kill off the weak and vulnerable so as to control populations and ergo ease in the idea or a new world order?

Who Knows. Truth be told no one does, and honestly, most of it sounds like utter shite. But, just maybe, if someone wanted to create something so devastating, so awful - They probably could. And if they wanted to unleash a deadly virus on the world, what better time to do it?! Starting it off in China, one of the world most controlled populations, bursting at the seams with people, all ready to go home to their families for Chinese New Year. With no sea to cross and not much-limited travelling, it wouldn't take much for the infected to start travelling to other parts of the world. Where is easiest to get to without boat or plane from China - Europe. And in Europe right now we are in Winter, admittedly coming into spring but most people around this time will have sore throats or coughs. A normal cold you might think on any other year but this. Just a thought. Just an idea. Just a theory. But nevertheless, a theory that has infiltrated every level and type of celebrity culture and could be used as a clever cloak for the dagger that the governments of the world hold?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Implant not Impregnate!

Heyy, 

Sitting in the surgery doctors waiting room to say I was nervous was an understatement. I was anxiously tapping my foot on the floor as I answered questions about my sexual health. Have I ever been paid for sex? Have I ever been forced into sex? Have I ever had abusive sex? Some of the detailed questions were strange, but I suppose they have to ask them as nurses in order to safeguard, both as an arse-covering exercise and to flag up any would-be problems or concerns. And so here I was for my fourth implant exchange. 

Looking on the NHS website, Nexplanon, otherwise known as the contraceptive implant is a small flexible plastic rod that looks a little like a match stick. It is placed under the skin in your upper arm by a doctor or nurse and releases the hormone progestogen into your bloodstream to prevent pregnancy. Lasting for 3 years, it is more than 99% effective and can be useful for women who can't use contraception that contains oestrogen.

The science-y part states that the implant steadily releases the hormone progestogen into your bloodstream, which prevents the release of an egg each month AKA your period.  It also thickens the cervical mucus, which makes it more difficult for sperm to move through the cervix, and thins the lining of the womb so a fertilised egg is less likely to implant itself and cause that dreaded pregnancy! 

The NHS website also states that you can have the implant put in at any time during your menstrual cycle, as long as you're not pregnant. If the implant is fitted during the first 5 days of your menstrual cycle, you will be immediately protected against becoming pregnant, however, if it's fitted on any other day of your menstrual cycle, you'll need to use additional contraception (such as condoms) for 7 days, although if you ask the sexual health nurse or doctor they will usually provide you with as many as you need in a nice little discreet packet, almost like a goody bag or sticker like from the Dentist. 

Some of the reasons to choose the implant over other forms of contraception are that once the implant is in place, you don't have to think about it again for 3 years and is very useful for women who find it difficult to remember to take a pill at the same time every day like me. Obviously, the implant can be taken out if you have side effects which could include periods may become irregular, lighter, heavier or longer but once removed your natural fertility will return very quickly. As soon as that implant has been removed, you'll no longer be protected against pregnancy. You can also use this method until you reach the menopause when a woman's monthly periods stop naturally.

Another common side effect is what I have most of the time which is called amenorrhoea when your periods stop altogether. It's not harmful, but you may want to consider this before deciding to have an implant if unlike me you prefer Aunt Urma staying more regularly. I think this, along with the fact I am incredibly forgetful and blase about the small stuff in life, means this is perfect and I only really need to think about it when I am having it exchanged and replaced. 

I mean obviously, it goes without saying that some medicines can make the implant less effective and that it won't work or protect against sexually transmitted infections (STIs), so you may need to use condoms as well if you are not familiar with your bed-fellow. I think I found it especially useful when I was dating (although this feels like many, many moons ago now) as I was not only using condoms but also relying on my implant too as a sort of double barrier, just in case the condom split or came off. 

To have it removed as I have this evening is simple as well and mostly pain-free. Starting with a local anaesthetic to numb the area on the inside of your upper arm, the implant is then inserted under your skin (mine was after the doctor made a tiny cut in my skin and gently pulled the implant out). It only takes a few minutes to put in and feels like having an injection so you won’t be in need of any stitches afterwards. 

As I type to you all tonight I have been through this very quick and simple procedure several times over and, like me, when it's first put in you may feel some bruising, tenderness or swelling around the implant. My arm is killing me right now, mainly because the nurse took it out and nearly forgot to put me a new one back in, by which point the general anaesthetic had nearly worn off so inserting that little stick felt like pumping molten chilli sauce into my arm. But I am now protected, at least in part from Mr Warehouse's super sperm. His whole family seem to be able to procreate at a somewhat incredible level I don't think I have ever encountered before. 

Don't get me wrong, as the day approached and even this afternoon as I thought more and more about it I know that this will be the last time I will have it going in as I will not be finishing the full term until September 2022. If Mr Warehouse had it his way we would have had children back when we met, aged twenty-two and me at twenty-three. I, however, prefer the more planned and thought out route, choosing to get life to a more stable place, with a house and well-formed relationship to steady the unpredictability of a child. And to think that the next time I lay down on that bed, fist punching the air will be when I have made the decision to breed and make more little me's!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Swollen and Sun Burnt!

Ola, 

Hearing Mr Warehouse tinkering around in the background of the holiday apartment I knew it was still dark outside. It was the day we returned to the UK and as sad as we were after burning severely on Tuesday and hobbling round Gibraltar on our day excursion my Fiance and I was certainly going to be glad of our home comforts and a few friendly faces. 

Getting up and shuffling to the bathroom, face, legs and back stinging from the waves of hot and cold, I braced myself for my morning pee. That was up until that point relaxing. Until Mr Warehouse broke the morning silence with not a 'Good morning my sweetness' or 'Wakey Wakey my little Paella princess'. No, I was confronted by an awful shriek. 
"You probably shouldn't but you should look in the mirror" Mr Warehouse said, cautiously looking at my face. I was sun burnt I got it. I suppose he thought it would be funny for me to see my red Larry lobster face and how bad I had it, especially since Mr Warehouse's sunburn had come up in blisters and breaking skin around his ankles. 

But as I got up from my seat on the Spanish "throne" I was met by my own gasp of horror. My face was so swollen I could barely see out of my right eye. I tried to open it, try and try as I might it was swollen shut. My whole face had swelled to nearly three times what it normally was for a fat cow like me. Panicked I went to Mr Warehouse, now pottering in the kitchenette, packing things into the suitcase as and when he found them. 
Bursting into tears I crumbled into his arms as I thought about how I would get home. 
"They're not going to let me through passport control!" I wailed, Mr Warehouse consoling me with his big lovable embrace. "I look like Elephant man"

Pulling myself together and calming down I did what I could, took a pill (Paracetamol) and smothered myself in aftersun and Aloe Vera before packing my things up and sorting shit out. We left the apartment in good time to get to the bus stop, but with only a few moments to spare, parking our trip to the 'Farmacia' and I had to settle with a wet muslin cloth and sunglasses to hid my hideous appearance from the locals. 
"I'll be lynched like a beastly mountain leper" I whimpered to Mr Warehouse as we boarded the bus to the airport. 

Arriving at security it was a long line and very busy. Our flight wasn't until midday and already the airport looked rammed to the point of breaking with families, kids and adults with copious amounts of luggage, bags and cases. My face was throbbing and tight from being so inflamed so after getting through to the other side out first port of call was the Pharmacy or somewhere that would sell aftersun, Ibuprofen or anything containing any Aloe or Vera. Nadda. Two Pharmacies and both were before security. Suffering we boarded the plane, nearly an hour late. Landing nearly an hour and thirty minutes late into Luton all I wanted to do was go home. Catching a cab in rush hour over to my Grandparents house we avoided most of the school traffic and after a brief pop in to say hello we headed home, arriving just before dinner time and spending an hour or so with Momma Warehouse, thanking her once again for looking after our pups who we missed dearly before heading to bed, face still swollen. 

The following morning I woke to something much worse. I now could not see out of my right eye at all. My face, still swollen, was worse from my left eyebrow across my forehead and around my eye, all over my cheek and was even impeding my speech now. I was terrified. This was serious. Calling through to the village doctors was about as much help as propping my eye open with a razor blade. I called our emergency number in the UK, the NHS 111 service. NHS 111 can help if you have an urgent medical problem and you’re not sure what to do and is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. After my assessment I was, along with Mr Warehouse and his severely burnt legs and ankles, were told to report to the Accident and Emergency.  

After waiting for an hour we were seen by a Triage nurse who not only briefly assessed us and looked over our complaints with little empathy but then went on to berate us entirely, telling us off and scolding my Fiance and I for not wearing sunscreen, branding us almost stupid and idiotic, as if we didn't need telling. 
"You're both fair. Your should have been wearing sun cream" She laid into us. Yeah because spending several hours in A&E, wearing sunglasses the whole time and with a face the size of North Africa yeah really how I would choose to spend the morning following a holiday in the sunshine. Leaving in tears it was several more hours before we saw a doctor. I was seen first and after an assessment on my skin, facial swelling and eyesight I was sent away and told that the tightness and swell should subside in five-seven days! I return to work in three! Mr Warehouse was the same diagnosis and told to carry on taking a cocktail of Paracetamol, Ibuprofen and the odd Antihistamine to take down the swelling and carry on with the moisturising with Aloe Vera and aftersun. 

It has now been nearly a week since the sunburn and I would say I have nearly fully recovered and my face is still swollen and very much so in the morning when I first wake up, but is getting better, as it Mr Warehouse's legs and ankles. Safe to say that might b our last holiday for a while ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An Amicus Curiae

Hello, 

Sat waiting for my appointment at the doctors Saturday morning I was I was anxious to say the least about what the doctor's and medical professionals would say. After my most recent appointment with them they had advised to continue my medication whilst I awaited an appointment where I can be seen through the NHS for counselling but this seems to be harder than you would have initially thought. 

After a few counselling sessions earlier on in my treatment process, I was unable to continue with them due to the high cost of the sessions themselves. They certainly helped but at £70.00 for an hour long session it was certainly not something I could afford right now or keep up, although that being said I was and still am eternally grateful for the help received. During those early therapy sessions, I finally opened up to the realisation that maybe medication is just what I needed at that point and with that I went to the doctors in order to get a quick fix. 

I'm sad and almost ashamed to admit that my work was suffering  and with a House move in the works I couldn't loose this job. As my social life dwindled also because of everything that was going on, I had, stupidly really, tried for the last few months (because the weeks of cloudiness beforehand had now turned into months) to not succumb to the need for medication in order to treat my mental health issues. Truth be told is that I needed a fairly instant result in improving my mood and therefore my performance, both at and away from my desk. The tablets used to make me feel quite queasy and nauseous most of the time but I knew they were good for me and what I needed would come soon. I needed, still do really, therapy and counselling and I need to talk about it, not medicate it away.

I have spoken before about how I was shocked that the doctor handed them out so easily, asking me very little questions about what is going on in my life to make me feel like this and how I am feeling. Unlike before there were no silly questionnaire about how depressed I am or the likeliness that I might top myself on a scale of one to ten.Every other time I have been to the doctors (not that there have been many, gosh makes me sound like a right nut case, but there have been a few occasions) there has always been a lengthy conversation about how I feel and how I have become to feel this way. Strangely I feel as though there should have been at least a little bit more push and pull. Then again maybe it was obvious and looking at my medical history it seemed the best thing for me. Initially when I went to the doctors in May of this year I was told that I will be placed on a waiting list for free counselling through the NHS and was told it would be roughly a three-month time slot from when I was referred. 

Obviously I continued with my therapy sessions and when they came to an end I went back to the doctor in order to have a check-up generally on the medication that I was on and it just so happened that it was coming up close to the three-month mark in July. I was told that it would probably be better if I went to speak to the Bedfordshire Well-Being team which were based outside of the doctors surgery and whilst part of the NHS were a different entity that could help. It was here that I learnt that it can be anywhere between eighteen-months and two-years. Certainly not the three-month time slot I was given when I first started back in April / May. 

After a meeting with a lady at the Bedfordshire Well-Being team, it was suggested by several mental health practitioners that I undertake what I thought was going to be a group therapy counselling session lasting 5 weeks. I thought that we all walk into the room sit down in a circle and say "Hi, my name is blah blah blah and I have a problem with abandonment issues particularly to do with my parents". Unfortunately this was far from the case and in actual fact it was a rather patronising lesson in what depression is and how it will make you feel. 
"No surprised that I have found it completely unhelpful as I am here because I have relapsed" I thought during my first two sessions. I am already my own well-being expert. I know the issues I have and ways I can slip back under the darkness. I already know how it feels to be depressed and I know what I need to do in order to get out. As narcissistic as it sounds I know what I am on about as I am already, at the grand old age of nearly 27, an expert of my own mental health issues.  

It was at this point that I spoke with the doctor and she confirmed that it would not be wise to stop medication and advised that in most circumstances medication is taken for a minimum of six-months, however with everything still quite unstable in my life in terms of my housing situation as well as my issues with family members, by the time the six-month anniversary comes around in October I probably will not be cured. I know that this is something I need to continue in order to build up it's effect, regardless of how I felt much better. I know that coupled with counselling and therapy I will get better it will just maybe take a little bit longer. 

Struggling I took the decision after talking with the Bedfordshire Well-Being team and several of the staff there I ended the patronising group lessons and have since then been in vainly trying to find anywhere locally that will be able to see me at such a short period of time that are not grossly expensive is almost nigh on Impossible. After a long sit in the doctors waiting room last Saturday morning, I saw the doctor (a different one every time I have been I must admit) I expressed my concerns to the them who promptly told me that it was a difficult position to be in for everyone involved. On the one hand going to my GP and seeking medical attention for my mental health was and continually is a great step in making myself better. As a result of that directly I have been put on medication to treat and improve my "chemical mood", something in which I feel is benefiting me greatly. Whilst awaiting it be one-to-one counselling via the NHS, there is very little that anyone can actually offer that will be of any use or help. 

Whilst I appreciate that the NHS in England is definitely under a huge strain, it is fundamentally wrong and critically important to increase the waiting times to a better standard.The thing is, if I broke my leg on the other hand they would try to operate as soon as immediately possible, having me in and out of that specific treatment quickly and efficiently so as to move on to the next patient. And yet for mental health it appears as though there is a lack of understanding in terms of how life threatening and dangerous it is for patients to wait to seek treatment. As with a broken leg mental health can become infected very quickly and easily causing more and more damage, and yet despite all of this the waiting list in the UK, at least for England anyway, is minimum of eighteen months and two years. 

Whilst the medicine I am on made me feel queasy and nauseous in the beginning, that has now subsided and I am now left feeling quite positive and happy in myself and my life generally although this doesn't stop the pressure that I feel from loved ones and frankly it is becoming a little too much to bear sometimes. I know that people mean well and that in reality I am of the knowledge that I need to sort out these issues but first and foremost, I need to sort myself out. Trust me when I say that it is simply a long story that I may share with you another time, but for the meantime I am doing as well as can be and battling it through to make the best out of what I have. I have been in touch recently with a couple of charities local to Bedford, one of them called the Amicus Trust which have said that they are able to give me some help with free counselling sessions in order to work through my problems as quickly as possible so that life can get back on track. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Forgetting and Falling!

Evening All, 

With the last few weeks and maybe a month or so looking and feeling brighter, I feel as though I have been lured into a false sense of security with my medication. Today and even maybe over the weekend where I stayed with Miss Tweedle-Dee whilst she house / puppy sat for her brother, I haven't been feeling sadder than usual and in a generally low mood. Several times today during what was a trying day at work (probably made worse by my lack of concentration and focus), I had noticed that I was on the brink of tears and to think that I had only missed two days worth of tablets. I could definitely tell that my focus and concentration had shifted at my desk not to anything in particular but just simply off the task in hand. I know I need to block everything out as best I can and try harder with what matters. Previously I had tried to muddle through the cloudiness, not to not succumbing to the need for medication in order to treat my mental health issues but truth be told is that I still need them as much today as I did weeks ago. 

This evening I also had a doctor's appointment in order to discuss my ongoing medication and going forward with my diagnosis. Whilst the medicine I am on made me feel queasy and nauseous in the beginning, that has now subsided and I am now left feeling quite positive and happy in myself and my life generally. Well that was until I forgot to take my meds yesterday and today. I didn't plan to it was just a simple fact of forgetting to take them and being outside of a normal routine. 

I spoke with the doctor and she confirmed that it would not be wise to stop medication and advised that in most circumstances medication is taken for a minimum of six-months, however with everything still quite unstable in my life in terms of my housing situation as well as my issues with family members, by the time the six-month anniversary comes around in October I probably will not be cured. I know that this is something I need to continue in order to build up it's effect, regardless of how I feel much better. I know that coupled with counselling and therapy I will get better it will just maybe take a little bit longer. Speaking of which, the doctor had advised to continue also with counselling sessions and therapy as it had temporarily been put on hold as I had finished my previous sessions and now awaiting a appointment where I can be seen through the NHS. 

After months of being in a bit of a whirlwind of emotions and life events, I am hoping that it is coming to an end, although I know deep down it is not. With Mr and Mrs Tweedle-Dee's big move to America coming soon in the first week of September and hopefully our house move before then I can only imagine that things will probably get worse not better. I know that this is a happy time where we should be excited about finally getting a home of our own and looking forward to putting our own stamp on the place. With the house seemingly moving along nicely and with the solicitors now finishing up their searches and the surveyor from the Mortgage Lender going in today,, I am feeling more positive than ever. There is no move date as yet so don't grab your red cups and vodka for the house party just yet. Following the survey on the house today to make sure that the house is worth the amount of money we are borrowing against it, hopefully we should hear back in the next couple of days with our mortgage offer and fingers crossed a date for our completion and exchange. I am almost certain after talking to different people at work and through other groups of friends that the process will speed along and hopefully still be set to move in before Mr and Mrs Tweedle-Dee depart. 

Whilst I am looking forward to sending my best friend off to a whole new world and life in sunny L.A, but sometimes I just feel sad about it all. I think it finally hit me (again) this weekend that I be loosing an incredible friendship with Mrs Tweedle-Dumb and whilst I have some amazing people around me, in particular Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Hackney and Miss SugarCoat nothing will ever replace my first ever best friend. I feel ashamed and selfish when I think about Mrs Tweedle-Dumb moving away with her new hubby, partly because I know the fun that we will all have trying to Skype and FaceTime each other (and not to forget the incredible holibobs), but more so because I would not have given a flying fuck about who was left behind or what they were feeling - I would have been long gone! And I want her to do the same because we will be OK back here because sitting on the reclining sofa across from Miss Tweedle-Dee she and I both knew how hard it might be but that despite it all our friendship would be OK. She knows better than anyone I think that sometimes its not even saying anything at all its just sitting and being there to be extra company other than your own thoughts. Sometimes that is just enough. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Friends Are Medicine for the Soul!

Hello everyone, 

Following last weeks rather abrupt and a matter of fact way of saying that I am now accepted that maybe medication for my depression is just what I need right now, I am glad to say that I have probably had one of the best weeks so far in my treatment. The funny thing really is that nothing major has really happened to improved my mood apart from my medication. With this in mind, I have questioned as to whether I am suffering a placebo effect from just simply popping some pills. 

Opening last week's blog may have been quite blunt and to the point, but I must stress that I do not take decisions like these lightly and I have tried to muddle through for the weeks of cloudiness have now turned into months. I have tried not to not succumb to the need for medication in order to treat my mental health issues but truth be told is that I needed a fairly fast result in improving my mood and therefore my performance, both at and away from my desk. I know I need therapy and counselling, but I also need to block everything out as best i can and focus on my job as this is what matters and what holds the key to my future. This time the stakes are higher. There is so much more to lose. My job. My lifestyle. Even my dream home are all on the line. I cannot mess this up. Whilst the medication I am on make me feel quite queasy and nauseous most of the time, I just need to take the edge off and make everything a little less sharper. so I can concentrate more and focus.

With the doctor practically signing me away with them so easily last week or so, all with not so much as a confirmation of my mental state, I am glad to be feeling a little bit more back to normal. This is not to say that I can stop taking them as the effects are something that are to be built up overtime and whilst for the super long term I hope not to be on them I know I need them right now just to simply get by and block everything else out so I can focus on what I need to. Counselling has been getting better and a lengthy conversation about how I feel and how I have become to feel this way ensued this week with some ideas about how I can tackle or deal with the issues that I have at present. 

I know people are probably silently judging me or maybe they already have questioned how I can be so happy and jolly when I have depression, however I would first ask them to never judge a book by its cover as you never know what someone is going through or how deep their problems lie. Whilst most of the people around me have been wonderfully supportive I feel like somehow breaking your leg and clearly having it in plaster makes it easier for people to talk about a illness or being sick, but with disorders such as anxiety, depression and other mentally debilitating conditions it is not so easy. 

I learnt this weekend that I have some amazing people around me, in particular Miss Tweedle-Dee. Sitting in her garden, hot as hell and struggling with the ridiculous thirty-something degree heat wave we in the UK have been getting I realised I had someone very special to me. She in particular know that sometimes its not even saying anything at all its just sitting and being there to be extra company other than your own thoughts. And sometimes that is just enough. That is all you need. Someone so gentle as to pat me on the leg with a sympathetic look that tells me she knows exactly what I am going through and that it really will be OK in the end. Someone to give me a big cuddle and make everything not seem so awful. She is the best! 

Combined with the firecracker that is Miss Tweedle-Dumb I think we have an unstoppable friendship that has lasted years and will carry on through the decades and even across the pond. Obviously my heart will break when Miss and Mr Tweedle-Dumb leave for America but I know they will be alright and we can always visit, eat Twinkies (God I hate Twinkies), go shopping at Target and walk along the beaches of LA. And everything will be OK because it always is when you have friends like them. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Taking The Edge Off

Heyy, 

So this week I started med's. Yep that's right ladies and gentlemen I have finally opened up to the realisation that maybe medication is just what I need right now. Is it's easy for me to just come out and say it like that, no not really but then again how do you go about saying it or explaining it to someone that doesn't know or understand. 

In fact, I was quite shocked and almost borderline appalled that the doctor handed them out so easily. No silly questionnaire about how depressed I am or on a scale of one to ten of likeliness that I might top myself. Every other time I have been to the doctors (not that there have been many, gosh makes me sound like a right nut case, but there have been a few occasions) there has been a lengthy conversation about how I feel and how I have become to feel this way. Strangely I feel as though there should have been at least a little bit more push and pull. Then again maybe it was obvious and looking at my medical history it seemed the best thing for me. 

Opening this week's blog may have been quite blunt and to the point, but I must stress that I do not take decisions like these lightly and I have tried for the last few months (because the weeks of cloudiness have now turned into months) to not succumb to the need for medication in order to treat my mental health issues at the moment. Truth be told is that I never really wanted to be on them in the first place, but the fact of the matter is I need a fairly instant result in improving my mood and therefore my performance, both at and away from my desk. I know what I need. I need therapy and counselling and I need to talk about it. I know not to throw the word depression around like it is nothing. It is. 

I know people may and probably are already judging me for reaching for the pill box and questioning maybe why I am not always a miserable mess, however I would first ask them to never judge a book by its cover as you never know what someone is going through or how deep their problems lie.  Somehow breaking your leg and clearly having it in plaster makes it easier for people to talk about a illness or injury, but with disorders such as anxiety, depression and other mentally debilitating conditions it is not so easy. You have those that care and ask how you are everyday obviously wanting to hear that you are doing well. But then there are others that don't quite understand just how difficult it is. These types of people will not understand and simply asked you to pull yourself together or to pick yourself up and get on with it. Phrases like this frustrate me no end as if it was just that easy I could simply wake up and be the same bubbly and happy lass as I used to be. 

You see depression makes even the smaller things in life appear so much more prominently in your mind and bigger than in reality they probably are. On it's own I could have probably dealt with any number of the issues I am facing and that some of the problems and frustrations that I am up against at the moment are simply as a result of not being 100% myself. Unlike the last times I have felt cloudy and sad I have always been able to put it down to just one thing, rather than multiple failings. My Dad went to war, my parents divorced, I got kicked out, My boyfriend left me, Blah, Blah, Blah. But what happens when it is not just one box that is ticked but all of the above? 

For me this time is more difficult as I feel the stakes are high at this time and there is so much to lose including my job, my lifestyle and even my dream home are all on the line. I cannot mess this up and just need something to get me by. I just need to take the edge off and make everything a little less sharper. Just something that can help me just get by and work through the muddle and mess of it all. Therapy last week was helpful and I feel as though we are finally getting to where I need to focus my attention on being. They make me feel quite queasy and nauseous most of the time but I have to try and to concentrate all my efforts on what and where it is needed. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Infectious Zombie Disease That Became A Reality!

Hello-Hello, 

So I know what you are all thinking. Am I dead? No?! Well Not quite. I certainly was last week though and as Monday's are normally my night to self-consume myself with Blog writing, however last week I was barely in a position to hold a conversation or eat, let alone write something. Now I am proclaiming that it all started I suppose on Saturday night where myself and Mr. Warehouse transformed ourselves from young sweethearts in love to a flesh-eating, disease-ridden Zombie Medical Team. Mr. Warehouse was my lead Consultant Doctor and I was a nurse. Nurse Price - Hmmm?!

It was a Halloween Party and rather unlike myself I had left everything till last minute and subsequently our plans to go as the Mad Hatter, fully complete with real china tea-cup impaled on face, and Mr. Warehouse as the March Hare from Alice in Wonderland (The original, not that crap Tim Burton churned out for his dwindling bank balance). So as the weekend approached faster than I anticipated Mr. Warehouse and I gave up on the hope of a warped Disney fantasy and opted for a fancy-dress shop bought costume. Nevertheless we spent most of the afternoon making fake blood, Halloween inspired cake pops and flinging a red concoction of pantry cupboard ingredient's at each other, making the whole of our little courtyard look like we had actually killed something. Good thing the Dog was still running around. Hanging up our outfits to dry, Mr. Warehouse and I took to the warmth of the inside in order to "glam" up for the party. 

The annual bash is something that is hosted by Mr. Warehouse's Cousin and his wife, a lovely couple who enjoy Halloween as much as Jack and Sally, celebrating it bigger than some people do Christmas. They decorate the whole house; Bathroom, Reception Rooms, Hallways, Landings, Kitchens and Back Yard - All in hauntingly beautiful arrays of cobwebs, black and creeped out dec's. I cannot wait for the moment in my life that it is appropriate enough to have my own Halloween Party, although I am almost certain it will take many years, weeks and pennies to achieve the levels Mr. Warehouse's Cousin and his wife have achieved. 

A successful few hours later, our costumes more intact than last year (Whereby Mr. Warehouse's overalls were quite literally ripped off his back when we dressed as the Big Bad Wolf and Little 'Dead' Riding Hood) we headed off home, and I was impressed that I had gone out of a night time and enjoyed myself at a Party whilst not drinking a single drop of Alcohol. 

But it would appear that the effects of the Zombie Apocalypse did not wear off as fast as I had hoped, for as Monday afternoon approached I started to feel queasy. "Food might help" I thought. So I had my lunch, albeit late. It made the stomach cramps and nausea worse. "A glass of milk might make it better" I continued.
But again, it made everything worse. Dashing to the bathroom in order to vomit I knew I had to go to the doctors. I couldn't believe that yet again had the same symptoms I had a few weeks ago had returned and it would appear I again had a horrendous viral infection. Only this time I needed to be at work. Not just for the fact that it was a new job and I wanted to be there to learn and show I was willing, but also the simple fact they no matter how long you are with the company they do not pay sickness. 

Shockingly poorly I went to the doctors and struggled driving home, vomiting not only in the doctors surgery but also outside the local Pharmacy whilst waiting for my prescription. I knew it was Halloween it was scary how sick I was feeling. Getting home I desperately tried to manager some bolognese but that came up as quick as it went down. Water and juice was unable to stay put also and by the time I had even thought about writing last week I was bent over double throwing up or curled up on Mr. Warehouse's lap, shivering under several blankets and layers of clothes. Having enough, my beautifully caring other-half put me to bed and left the bucket now used for such occasions and a glass of water to sip on, wrapping me up in the duvet and promising to check on me every hour, which he did but if only to make sure I hadn't choked on my own stomach acid. 

Two days later I returned to work, still not feeling great but with limiting options since I wasn't getting paid for the pleasure of sitting at home in my pyjamas under a duvet with a sick bowl to hand. I am feeling much better today and throughout the last couple of days, I am just hoping it doesn't attack me again with another bout of The Zombie Sickness Bug. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx