Today has definitely been a more positive day mood wise although I am knackered. It has to be the effects of yesterday: I guess all that emotion and pent up anger/frustration/sadness/self-loathing has to work its way out of my body somehow and then when it does, I’m left hungover from it. I had to take one of my emergency migraine pills earlier, Sumatran, as I could feel it coming on. I never thought I got much of an indicating “aura” until recently when a doctor explained to me that the foggy headache I get sometimes pre-full-blown-acid-dipped-poker in the right temple is actually the aura. I always thought aura was nausea, not an actual headache. I took the Sumatran. It didn’t make much difference. I’ve now taken two Solpadeine, I’m hoping they’ll help. Even though I’d been doing pretty well with the no Solpadeine rule. Me and my stupid fucking head.
I didn’t get up till around 11am because I felt that as I had no recallable nightmares and no cold sweats, I’d just go with it. I’d been up for about two hours when I started to feel misty headed and sleepy, so I lay down and slept for another hour and a half. But I refuse to let the guilt set in: clearly my body, and mind, needed it.
I took a break from writing lesson plans to jot down some thoughts here. Scandi has had her friends here after school and it’s reassuring to hear them laugh in the living room, even if they are wrecking the place, at least I know life is still around me: good, hopeful, young life unintroduced to the crap that will eventually catch up with them. Or maybe it won’t: maybe they’ll be more resistant to mental health issues because their generation is infinitely more educated and aware of depression, anxiety, stigma, violence, sex and the nuances of being human.
I now just have one more lesson plan to write: I’ve done two and made up an exam too, so even though I didn’t go to the gym (I really wanted to go to Body Combat but with my skull precariously positioned on the verge of not being able to contain my migrainey, acidic brain matter, reason won and I didn’t go – this isn’t an excuse not to exercise, really. I would’ve felt a thousand times better about myself if I had been able to).
Scandi’s pals have departed. I’m afraid to look at the living room.
The living room was fine, the kitchen however…
We watched Vikings and The Great Pottery Throw Down – I’m a sucker for any BBC show that starts with The Great… Sara Cox presents it and one of the judges cries every time someone does a good job. Potting/pottering/potterying (whatever the verb is) looks mesmerisingly soothing and I am tempted to Google “pottery class south dublin”. Seeing as generations of my family before me worked in a pottery, I wonder would it be in my blood. Knowing that I was incredibly shit at anything artistic at school however, I already know the answer to that question.
It’s now ten past ten and I need to get this last lesson plan done for my little venture in Speech and Drama classes. These classes are keeping my mind engaged in things literary and educational while I am incapable of working a full week. Any guilt I had over not being in work was justified yesterday when I considered how humiliating for me and unnerving for my students it would be if that level of anxiety, panic and anger happened in school. I can’t see that I’ll ever more than cover my stationery and fuel expenses with Speech and Drama, but it gives me much more than money.
The problem with me teaching English and /or Speech and Drama is that I spend an hour distracted by poetry books and apps (there are really cool poetry apps, I swear).
It’s now ten to midnight and I’ve had a lovely time re-listening to Gatsby extracts read by Jake Gyllenhaal and poetry read by Tom Hiddleston and Helena Bonham-Carter. I also have my lesson plans done and I can tick off the “Learn” tab on my Way of Life app for today (I’m trying to get into the habit of learning something new everyday or at least exercising my once capable brain back into some sort of intellectual curiosity).
Now, I’m going to pack a gym bag for the morning and have my gear ready to go. I’ll have a nice hot shower and hopefully sleep.
Even though I had cake and codeine and didn’t exercise, this feels like a mini achievement of a day, I mean, I’m alive, the child was fed and the dogs didn’t poop in the house. So yeah, success.