Part II - A continuation and a quote

Just a couple days ago I posted about how I am struggling again with food and the feelings that go along with that. Earlier today I was talking with my mum and came to a realization: this has been one hell of a year. It has been absolutely, completely crazy and there's a lot of pain that hasn't totally been acknowledged. There's a ton of stuff that has happened, and I've changed a lot. And I have spent the last two months avoiding spending any time alone, truly alone, because I can't handle thinking about it. I watch tv or work or volunteer or, most of all, I eat so that I don't have to think.

This realization left me crying and a little shaken. I started to make some tea (those Brits do have one thing right - tea helps) and picked up the book I just started reading yesterday, "How to be a Woman" by Caitlyn Moran. I recently heard her on a podcast debating gender issues, and having heard of the book earlier decided to give it a read. She is a strident feminist (her words), comedian, and a brutally honest look at life in today's world. And she wrote  this in her chapter called "I Am Fat!":

"No -- I'm talking about those for whome the whole idea of food is not one of pleasure, but one of compulsion. For whom the thoughts of food, and the effects of food, are the constant, dreary background static to normal thought. Those who think about lunch while eating breakfast, and pudding as they eat chips; who walk into the kitchen in a state bordering on panic and breathlessly eat slice after slice of bread and butter -- not tasting it, not even chewing -- until the panic can be drowned in an almost meditative routine of chewing and swallowing, spooning and swallowing.

In this trancelike state, you can find a welcome, temporary relief from thinking for 10, 20 minutes at a time, until finally a new set of sensations -- physical discomfort and immense regret -- make you stop, in the same way you finally pass out on whisky or dope. Overeating, or comfort eating, is the cheap, meek option for self-satisfaction, and self-obliteration. You get all the temporary release of drinking, fucking, or taking drugs but without -- and I think this is the important bit -- ever being left in a state where you can't remain responsible and cogent.

...

Overeating is the addiction of choice of carers, and that's why it's come to be regarded as the lowest-ranking of all the addictions. It's a way of fucking yourself up while still remaining functional, because you have to. Fat people aren't indulging in the "luxury" of their addiction making the useless, chaotic, or a burden. Instead they are slowly self-destructing in a way that doesn't inconvenience anyone."

It isn't perfect in how it discusses addictions - but it is perfect in how it describes me. It's exactly right and exactly what I've been doing.

Now I need to go think about this with my tea and some time.

Self Control

A little over a year ago my doctor encouraged me to try Weight Watchers - I have been obese my entire life and we had been talking for a long time about doing something about it. A week after starting I was diagnosed as pre-diabetic. That was enough to set things into stone for me - I was not going down that road. I started running again, did the program, and by June had lost a little over 60lbs.

Then I moved to England, and stopped making healthy choices. I told myself it was an adjustment period and kept trying to get back on track but it never happened. Then everything* went down and this became not a priority. I came back to Edmonton and kept being a day away from getting back on track. Except I've just gotten further and further away from that metaphorical track - and about 15 lbs away from where I had been. I have gone back to the point where I have no control over food, where I feel food has constant control over me. Every night I regret my choices - it's not about being a size 2 or something, it's about how crappy my body feels having not the right stuff put into it. It's about feeling good and in control and liking what I saw in the mirror. It's about not having a heart attack at a young age or having sugar problems.

Today was another day that started with every intention of making healthy choices, and ended with more than one binge having occured. I will admit I came dangerously close to becoming bulemic at one point before starting the healthier stuff last year - I have always binged, but I reached a point where I would feel so gross that throwing up was the only thing that helped.

God I've never admitted that to more than one or two people. I think my mum and one friend are all that I've told. Yeah. So that happened. And I feel like I'm back on the road there. I feel like I have no control, and like I can't stop the spiral.


It's crazy what happens when you sit down to write. I totally planned to take this in a different direction. I was going to talk about focusing on all the great stuff in my life (my job, my friends, my family, my sweet little apartment, my cat) versus the not great stuff (eating issues, money trouble, and being lonely). For those of you who think I plan out these blog entries or have any control over what I say - ha!

Though that's the problem isn't it? Control. I swear I used to have it. I have no idea where it went - possibly the toxoplasmosis I swear I must have gotten from Quirk has done away with it? - but it's gone.


Okay. Wrangling thoughts back together. I need to get this under control - I worked too hard to go back to the unhealthy relationship with food I had and am returning to. I really don't have time for meetings or anything like that, but I think it's time to reach out online for some support. I keep thinking it should be easy to just snap back into a routine, but it's not. I've come up with a million theories as to why it's gotten bad again (fear of rejection, trying to start a regiment with too many restrictions instead of easing in, lack of kitchen supplies/equipment, and so on) and a million plans for fixing it (goals, rewards, crazy schemes) but I think it's time to simply admit that I need help. And to make myself a priority again.

Help and priorities. Easy right? Let's give this a try...



*I assume if you are reading this you know the story. If not - archives! Tired of telling it.

On 2013

Every year around this time social networking sites start to pop up with little "year in review" surveys and apps. I always feel frivolous doing them, but I also think it's important to take the mile markers given us, such as New Year's, to look back and see where we've been and where we've ended up. So I usually give in and participate.

This year I decided to do my own retrospective instead of letting someone else set the tone and direction. But first, a little bit of personal musing on an issue I'm facing. It does go back to what seems to be a major theme in this year - choice. I have a choice between two jobs that I love equally and to most people it seems an obvious one. When there are two jobs you love and you have a chance to move from the one that pays less to the one that pays more it should be an easy move to make. Right? But there are things holding me back that I just can't stop going back to. Why is it so hard to let go of being needed and feeling wanted?


Anyways. Back to the year in review. It has been another big year in my life with a lot happening. I feel like I said the same thing last year - I keep waiting for that part of my life where the years start to slide by without being so dramatic.

So what happened this year?

I applied for graduate school, but the program put a moratorium on admissions. How different my path would have become had that not happened - probably fewer downs but I suspect fewer ups as well.

I decided to make my health a priority and managed to make some really positive changes (and get some really positive results). Mind you I then stopped making it a priority and started reversing the changes. I still have a lot of things to work on.

I travelled overseas for the first time (other than a trip to California when I was 7) and fell in love with the world out there.

I then took it a step further and moved overseas. I learned a lot about myself in doing so - that I can adapt better than I feared, that I can meet people and have fun, but most of all that I have very deep roots in Edmonton. I also learned that my values are important to me, that I still have to consider depression part of my life, and that I know when it is time to walk away from a bad situation. I reached a point of despair I have not felt for a long time, but I pulled myself out of it after removing the triggers.

I also got a tattoo. I know that one is silly and trivial compared to the rest, but it still seems important to me.

I went to Scotland twice. Again, silly but a big thing to me. I love Scotland.

I started over, again, and built a life that looks more like the one I want to be living. I'll probably crack at some point because I am living just under the line between busy and overwhelmed, but that's where I like to live.

I made new friends, strengthened bonds with old ones, and let go of some that weren't what I wanted in my life.

I touched some lives - I don't mean to sound vain or egotistical but I helped people learn and got a lot of gratitude in return. I talked openly about mental illness in a way that got a very positive and emotional response from people. I worked on my goal of having a net positive impact - and I think I made some progress.

I didn't fall in love, though there were some promising incidents. I'm still waiting on that one. Until then I have Quirk to keep me company and make me smile. And she is now one well-travelled kitty.

I love the life I have landed in. I am poor and stressed and sometimes lonely but I also get to be me. I have wonderful people in my life, jobs I love, a great family, and a good understanding of myself. And even a blog that a few people read and reply to. And I'm excited to see where the next mile takes me.

On being a niche market

This post is frivolous. Or maybe not. I guess we'll find out. Over the last couple weeks I've had a lot of people ask me about my love life (or lack thereof) and my thoughts on it. Is this because I'm sending out some kind of "I'm tired of being single and feeling like there's a whole part of life I have yet to explore" vibe? Possibly. I'm definitely feeling that way. But that's not the point, and despite how it may sound at first this is not a self-pitying post. I feel it's important to say that, because what I'm about to say now may sound like it. Read on to see why I don't feel it is. In one of these conversations recently with a work friend I was asked if I had tried on-line dating. I said that I tried before going to England, but that I didn't have much success. I then joked that it's because I'm a bit of a "niche market". I've thought a lot about this statement since and have realized just how true it is.

Now my work friend thought I was referring to my size. And I do think this comment applies to my size - not every guy out there will be interested in a girl who's bigger than the average. Though I tend to feel that if a guy can't see past the extra curve on my body to all the other great stuff that's more their problem than mine. But the comment was not just about that. It was about me as a person, about  my expectations and beliefs and activities. It was about what I want and what I have to offer.

I'm a little worried the rest of this post is going to make me sound egotistical and vain, and I'm not. Or not all the time. Most the time I bounce between cripplingly low self-esteem and thinking I'm okay but need work on how to love myself. But the point of this is to talk about the good things that make me a niche market, and maybe to get you thinking about what makes you one.

So why am I a niche market?  Here are some of the reasons.

1. I care a lot more about my mind than my looks. Don't get me wrong, I do the whole hair and makeup and clothes thing - it's just never going to be my focus. I would rather listen to interesting and educational podcasts than sit and think about outfits. I hate wearing high-heels, can't handle long nails, and despise clothes shopping 90% of the time. I am never going to be the girl who looks amazing and coiffed and that. At best I'm that girl with the weird hair who looks pretty and interesting, but different. But I can hold my own in discussions about science, math, religion, literature, history, psychology, anthropology, sociology, art, etc. etc. etc. The time I choose to not spend on appearance is spent becoming an interesting person with a wide variety of interests.

2. I need to be challenged. The people I like most in my life are those that make me feel dumb because I love feeling challenged. I love when someone can teach me things or make me question my assumptions. I don't want to sit and chit-chat about the weather for two hours. I want to debate and discuss and argue and learn.

3. I'm a sometimes-angry feminist. I don't want a "traditional" relationship. I don't want to be taken care of or bought stuff or treated like a doll. Okay, sometimes I would like to be taken care of - we all do. But I don't want to be your princess. I want to be your partner. I'm probably not going to take your name in marriage (I might just marry you, but it doesn't mean I belong to you). I'm not domesticated properly so don't expect housework out of me. I'm going to be independent and opinionated and stubborn. And I'm going to challenge you.

4. I have baggage. I have big time baggage - a history of depression can be scary to anyone. It makes me who I am, and I think it makes me a better person because I have a lot of emathy. But I can understand people not wanting to take that on.

Alright, I'm tired of coming up with a numbered list. But I'm hoping you get the idea. I see myself as a niche market because it will take someone very special to be willing to take on all that. But those aren't bad things about myself! I love these things about myself. And what I realized as I thought more and more about this is that all the best people I know are also niche markets.

So here's to being a niche market - and to whoever eventually comes along that's willing to try something a little different.

Thanksgiving

It is that time of year again, however it began this is the time that is now meant for expressing gratitude for the good things in your life. Also for stuffing yourself so full of turkey you can't move, but mostly gratitude.

It has been a rough year in some very big ways. Strangely not worse than the year before, but still a rough one. Which to me makes it even more important to give thanks. 

What am I thankful for this year?

My family. My mum especially... you may be starting to gather that she is really important to me. She is my best friend and biggest support. I would be completely lost without her, so I am grateful for her and for her health. I am grateful for my dad and the values he instilled in me, even if they do mean I sometimes take the harder path. I am also grateful for the constantly improving relationship he and I have. My brother too, and not just because he has given me a great sister. It may have taken becoming adults but I have a lot of love and respect for him. I am so grateful for the humor he brings into my life. I am also blessed with wonderful cousins like Sam, loving aunts and uncles, and grandparents who mean the world to me. 

My friends. I know... cheesy and cliche so far but live with it. I am so blessed to have an amazing group of people around me, who love me even when I do things like move across the world and then back. There are a few who have really gone above and beyond lately though. I am grateful to Chris and Courtney who have both opened their homes to Quirk and I while we find our own place, as well as for all the work they did getting Quirk to me when I moved to England. I am grateful to David and Vanessa and Becka and Katherine and Jesse for all the support they gave me during the tough month of September, it would have been much more difficult and less bearable without you. I am also grateful to the dozens of others who sent kind words and supportive thoughts and interesting podcasts to help me process what had happened. 

I am grateful to have jobs to return to that I enjoy and am excited about. Even more so since those jobs come with wonderful coworkers who I am excited to see!d

I am grateful for Quirk. While she's been rather expensive to fly around the world, she is my familiar and companion. I love her to pieces, even when she bites me for leaving her. I consider myself so lucky that she had come through our adventure relatively unscathed and quite healthy. 

I am grateful for the technology that made it possible for me to keep in touch with people from home while I was in England, and now that I'm home to keep in touch with the people who are there. It seems kind of materialistic, but I don't mean it that way. I know things would have been much tougher without the ability to talk to my loved ones in real-time with relatively little hassle.

I am grateful for my health. This should probably have gone first, but it's here instead. I am so lucky to have the doctors I have. Not just my mental health though, I am grateful for my physical health which is significantly better than it was this time last year. 

I am grateful for my education which helped develop me into the person I am today and allows me to do work I enjoy. I know I am lucky to live in a country with a good education system and that  I was able to go to University. 

Speaking of, I am grateful for all the ways in which I am lucky to have been born where I was. Access to food, clean water, relative equality, easy access to utilities and medicine, etc. 

I am grateful for the opportunity I got to go abroad and learn more about myself. While in some ways it didn't work out as hoped, I still got to meet amazing people, see more of the world, and learn a lot about myself and my values. Not bad for a few months! Yes there was some really awful stuff, but even that had it's things to be grateful for, including the knowledge that I have such better coping skills than I did when I was younger. 

That being said though, the last thanks I'm going to give on here is for being home. I love this place, and the people in it. I could write a whole entry on all the things I'm grateful for about being back, but will spare you (for now). 

I will spend tomorrow seeing my beloved fur-niece and having a thanksgiving meal with fantastic friends. I know that also makes me lucky. To anyone who actually read this far down, I wish you a fantastic Thanksgiving filled with love and laughter. There's a lot to be thankful for after all. 

P.S. Mmmm turkey. 

Update on the other side of the Atlantic

I thought I would write a quick update and let those who are curious know how I am doing post-everything.

I flew back to Canada a little under a week ago (strange to think!). After the chaos described in my last post the rest of the trip was pretty unexciting. I arrived safely to be greeted with a hug by my mum and friend Chris. Mum headed back home and Chris and I went about collecting Quirk which was a bit of a process. We eventually got the cat, who was traumatized but otherwise safe and healthy, and headed to Chris' place. I was completely exhausted but stayed up visiting until a reasonably late time and fell hard asleep, only to wake up at about 4 in the morning and be unable to fall back asleep. I was not very impressed. 

Since then my body has been working on normalizing. My sleep is still a little wonky - mostly I just wake up early when I don't want to. Quirk is staying with Chris for the time being, so when in the city ai have been as well. I just returned from a wonderful three days home with my family (strange and wonderful as always!) 

The hardest part for me right now is simply not having my own space and feeling very unsettled. I have been lining up apartment viewings. So far I have seen one that seems like it could be good, if it is still available tomorrow I will go give them a deposit and my application. I have also decided to buy a car again after much debate with myself and others. That could be a whole post on its own. I am pretty excited however. 

I start work in a week and am really excited. I am returning to a place I have worked before and quite enjoyed. I am also looking into a side job writing items for exams, I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon about it. I am hoping to make a little extra cash to help with savings and paying off the credit card bills I have been building with this whole adventure. 

So that's all the practical stuff. On the emotional end  I am much better than I was. I find myself getting down a fair bit but that is related to feeling the lack of my own space and just feeling overwhelmed by everything I have to deal with. Nothing like the depression was. Otherwise I just feel better. I remember now who I am and am still just shocked at how quickly that all got lost. I was messaging with someone the other day who mentioned that even over texts they could tell I was happier. This made perfect sense to me as I know I carry a very different tone usually than I did during this stuff. I would like to think I'm funnier and more fun now than I had been being. I still have moments where everything feels completely surreal, it is hard to believe everything that has happened. I would like to believe it was all some crazy dream.  Once I get more settled and sorted I will be fully back to myself and have a better time processing it all. 

And Quirk? She's a little grumpy with me for leaving her while I went home. But she is slowly (very slowly) getting her behaviour normalized as well. She'll never be quite the same cat as she originally was - she has seen too much to go back to that innocent state! - but I think she'll be okay. There's no sign so far of the health problems she was having in England which I take as a good sign. 

I meant this to be organized and cohesive, but my body is convinced it's bed time and very sleepy. So I will end here. 

How is my life a thing that exists?

I have decided that I should write a book and call it Vignettes from an Ordinary Ridiculous life. Why? To commemorate all the completely ridiculous things that happen to me. Things that make me ask the question "How is my life a thing that happens?"

Today's ridiculous adventure involves an administrative mess up, a last minute race through Heathrow airport, and a cat. Of course a cat, all of my most ridiculous stories involve a cat. 

Quirk and I are returning to Canada (hopefully). We had to rebook a previously planned Christmas flight which meant we had no choice in times. This resulted in a 7:30 flight from Manchester to Heathrow, followed by an 8 hour layover before leaving for Canada. For a human this is an absolutely awful flight plan. For a human travelling with a cat it's not so bad because it means we can be on the same planes. 

Or adventure begins slowly. At 2:30 this morning I woke up, put Quirk into her massive carrier, and caught a pre-arranged taxi to the cargo centre for Manchester Airport. They took her paperwork and copied what they needed, which surprised me because I thought they would need originals. Then they made me wait around while they put Quirk through an X-Ray. What they think I could have hidden in a cat I don't know, but she passed and at last I left her there and got to go back to the hotel and crawl into bed for another hour's sleep. 

At 5:30 I caught another taxi, this time with my massive luggage, to the airport proper. The poor driver didn't listen when I warned that my one suitcase was terribly heavy, and was unpleasantly surprised when trying to lift it into the boot of his car. He was probably over 60 so I felt terrible. Even more so when he refused to let me get it out myself at the airport. I took my bags in, paid the extra baggage and weight fees, and found somewhere to sit and wait for my first plane. 

The trip to London was pretty uneventful. I alternated snoozing with reading my book about English history and stopped to send love to my kitty in the hold. Arriving in Heathrow I took a transfer bus from Terminal 5 to Terminal 3, went through security for a second time, and got my Air Canada boarding pass. I then picked up some junk food and settled in for my 8 hour wait. 

Just before noon I was starting to think how I should go get lunch when I get a phone call from the company handling Quirk's flight. There's a problem. The only paperwork they can find is a photocopy of the fit to fly certificate, they don't have anything else. Not only did the guy in Manchester give me the originals back when he shouldn't have, he didn't even copy everything. They need the originals by 12:30 (cats need to be processed and boarded 4 hours prior to the flight) - can I catch a cab to their office and bring them the papers? 

Getting this cat home is pretty important to me, so of course I say yes. And then I realize I have no idea how to get out of the departures area, never mind the terminal. I walk towards the way I came in and find the security area. One person points me to an exit there, but when I ask the next person they explain that because I've already gone through and been processed I have to go out the other way. At the other end. 

I start walking towards the other end. And then I start running because I don't have much time - it's now at least 5 after and the clock is ticking. And then I remember I am carrying a ridiculously heavy purse and wearing impractical shoes so I stop running. And then I get anxious and start again. I continue this way, alternating running with fast walking, to the other end where I encounter my next hurdle. Immigration. 

See because I'm trying to leave the airport I have to go through Border Control. Even though I've only come from MANCHESTER. Even though all I want to do is run these papers over and come right back. I still have to get my passport stamped. 

At this point it is nearing quarter after. My time is half gone. I call the company in tears and out of breath, and they are able to do the miraculous! They convince Air Canada to extend the deadline by half an hour. This will still be tough but is possible. 

Going through immigration itself was interesting trying to explain what was going on. But eventually the guy just stamps my passport and gives me a look. I take this to mean I can go and start running again, this time to get to the taxi queue. 

Here is where the company comes through for me again! They are sending a driver to meet me! But I have to have money for them, so I try to describe myself and go get cash. 

And then I go outside and wait. And wait. And wait. I talk to the girl and she tells me I am looking for a white van. Because those are a nice rare species here! The clock is ticking, and all I can do is mournfully eye every white van that goes past. 

Until at last! My phone rings! He is parked near departures and using the time-honoured method of walking around looking for another person on the phone I find the driver and pass off the papers. 

I start through security feeling triumphant until a ripple of unease passes over me. I missed a paper. I forgot that it was tucked in with other stuff. I walk back out of the security line and call the company. Luckily they were able to make a new one and all is good. 

Until they notice that the CFIA stuff has a messed up microchip number on it that is. That will be fun to deal with! 

Semi Impulse Decisions

I believe this will be the last post in this depression series as I feel that I am coming out of the worst of the depression. I had a really interesting conversation with my mum last night about how I spent all of last week in a depression fugue state, and now that I am finding my personality coming through again I realize how worried I was that it wouldn't happen. I was worried that that fugue wouldn't go away, or that when it did I would have lost who I am. I spent a lot of time developing into the person I am - who I happen to quite like in fact - and the thought I may have lost her was pretty scary. But she is coming back, and it is a huge relief.

I got distracted. That's not the point of this post. This post is about the questionable smartness of making decisions while depressed. Not the decision to go home, that decision I have no regrets about - seeing myself come through again I realize just how important it is that I am getting better. However I did make another decision that I have only told a few of you about that will also have lasting effects.

This was first contemplated and planned before the big crash, so it wasn't completely a fugue state impulse. However looking back I fully acknowledge that it was conceived of and planned during the descent, and while I was already in the grips of depression. The actual execution of the decision was while in the fugue state. It was enough to actually break me temporarily out of said state which was nice. Though I don't think this will be my new coping method.

What am I talking about? Why am I being coy? Because I am worried people will judge me for this impulse decision. But here goes. Here is what I am talking about:

Recovery

Yesterday I found myself laughing at things again. This morning I didn't have to fight with anxiety when I woke up - though partly that's because I was so annoyed with Quirk trying to wake me up by pulling my hair. I won't say I'm totally back to where I want to be, but I feel like glimpses of me are showing through more and more.

I am recovering. It is a quick recovery which tells me that this was mostly definitely a trigger induced episode, and that now that most of those triggers have been taken out of the equation my medications are able to return me to equilibrium. This is a relief, I didn't want to have to go through the hassle of medication changes.

I thought after all my posts describing what depression feels like to me I would talk about something more positive - coping skills. What are some of the skills I have learned that are helping me get through? The biggest thing I recommend is contacting your doctor and/or counsellor  of course!

Breathing Exercises

I have mentioned before how I would wake up and be paralyzed by anxiety for up to hours at a time. The biggest thing I could do to get through this was breathing exercises. Nothing fancy, just breathing deeply and focusing on the words "in" and "out". Because we can't keep multiple things in our brain really well, if I focused on those words and only those words I wasn't able to think of the anxiety at the same time and slowly it would disappear.

Expressing Myself

That's what this journal was. Now not everyone is going to want to publish their thoughts and feelings for everyone to see - for all I know there could be some future fallout of me doing so but that's a risk I decided I was willing to take - but it is really important to find some way to get the thoughts out. A lot of the times when I wrote a post was when I found the same thoughts circling in my head over and over and over and starting to eat at me. I realized that if I kept them in they would just keep eating at me. Some things I just journaled privately, but I found that by having it out there for others to know it was more helpful to me. It is important to find some way to acknowledge them and then get those thoughts out - talk to someone, write them down, make art (making art is always a good thing!), anything. Just don't keep them in to eat away at your brain.

Support

I found some online support groups and registered with them as another way to reach out and communicate with others who understand. This goes in with the last one - it's a safer way to tell people those thoughts without putting them quite this public. Sometimes people will have good advice and recommendations, other times they are able to help by  just acknowledging your feelings. I don't recommend live chat rooms however - I went into one and found it just left me feeling worse.




Those are the three that I can best put into words. I know there are more that I did, but those are the three big ones. I also called my wonderful mum a lot - sometimes four or five times a day. I am so blessed to have her and that she is so patient and supportive.

Mostly I wanted to post to let people know that I am getting better. I can find myself in all the stuff going on in my brain, and that's a really  nice feeling. I am so glad I have skills to cope that ten years ago I didn't.

 There will probably be one more post in this series regarding a bit of an impulse decision I made. Until then, thank you to all who have read and who have sent me encouraging messages.

Moments of Emptiness

In 2012 one of my favourite actors/comedians, Stephen Fry, attempted suicide. Earlier this year he talked about it in an interview and some articles, around the time I came to England for my vacation & interview. I remember sitting on a plane reading an article in which he discussed the suicide attempt and his struggle with the depression side of cyclothymia. I wish I could find the article because there was a great part where he talked about being filming the TV show QI, a very bright and funny show I enjoy a lot, and how on the outside he would be laughing and joking but on the inside he would be completely miserable.

I keep coming back to this idea as I struggle to work through this episode. Most of the time right now I am alone with Quirk so I don't have to fake being okay. In fact I spend a lot of time reaching out to people digitally because simply having some form of communication happening helps keep me from sinking lower without having someone else in the room to see how I'm doing. People and their willingness to text with me about random things or about what's happening are what are getting me through this. But sometimes I'm around people, and will be having a perfectly pleasant and enjoyable time when all of a sudden the bottom drops out. All of a sudden the despair and anxiety and loneliness come rushing in all at once. That sad emptiness inside seizes its moment and reminds me of its existence sending my head spinning. I know people will get tired of hearing about these things so I sit and I smile and I pretend that I'm okay. And I wait for it to pass. And it is so very very hard to do because I feel like I am lying to my loved ones who are trying so hard to help me be okay, but I don't want to burden them by dragging down the mood and saying I'm sad again. Because I'm tired of hearing about me being sad, so they must be. Mostly I'm just tired of being sad. And anxious.

And then the moment passes, and I'm left with a little echo of the emotions but can return to what is happening around me and enjoy it again.




For those wondering about the practical side of my situation here is where it stands: I have plane tickets for me and Quirk (hopefully, we'll come back to that) for Oct 3 back to Canada. The route sucks because it was a rebooking of my Christmas tickets and I had no choice (basically I have an 8 hour layover in Heathrow). That leaves me about a week and a half here in England. In some ways this feels like an eternity, but it is also a very short time to deal with things.

My landlord has insisted that I pay all of October's rent since I didn't give a full month's notice, and that I completely empty the apartment of furniture. Everything. Even though it was leased to the person I inherited it from (I never actually signed a lease with him) as furnished, even though everything here was here when I arrived. This is one of my biggest sources of anxiety right now. I am offering the furniture to the other Canadians here if they can arrange for some way to move it. The rest will go to the British Heart Foundation or be taken away by waste removal people.

My second biggest worry is Quirk. I have her booked to fly the same flights as me, but am concerned if they will let her as she is still having some stomach issues. It definitely is stress related - it seems to be every time the arrangement of who is sleeping here changes that it happens again. I want to take her to the vet about it, but worry that the vet will then refuse to sign the "fit to fly" paperwork. I honestly don't know what I would do or what would happen if I couldn't bring her with me. But I also don't know what I would do if something happened to her. So I think I will call the vet tomorrow and see what they say. I truly believe that if I can just get her home  back to where she is comfortable and back to the food & water she is familiar with she will be okay. I just need her to be okay enough to survive the travels (first getting to Manchester somehow, then one flight to London, then another flight home). I think if something did happen to her or if she did have to stay it might just be enough to fully and completely break me - she is my best friend and I need her with me. My anxiety is rising rapidly just thinking about this.

This weekend has been a blessed relief from loneliness thanks to my wonderful friend Vanessa who came out to visit. It is hard to think tomorrow I go back to facing this alone (physically so at least). I just want this to be over and to feel okay again but I suspect that won't happen until I can be back around people I love more of the time.

Otherwise I am just keeping going. I don't want people worrying - I will get through this and be alright. But keeping in contact with me is appreciated, it is the biggest way that people can help right now to distract me with communication. That and taking away furniture and belongings to make that part easier.

The Paradox of Getting Better

Well, a few days after starting these entries I find myself in one of the strangest parts for me of these episodes - the getting better part.

I'm nowhere near back to equilibrium. I still have waves of anxiety and times when I randomly just start crying for no reason, my appetite is all over the place (non-existant for most of the day but then suddenly rampant), and I have no energy to do anything most of the time.

But there are times when I'm okay. Times when I'm able to sit calmly and get things done or do relaxing activities or enjoy something. And that's where the paradox comes in...

As soon as I start to enjoy something I get hit by a wave of guilt. I have just made a major life change that has inconvenienced many other people because of my depression and anxiety - I shouldn't be allowed to enjoy anything! At least that's what my brain tells me, and tries to make me feel bad.

Such an unhealthy paradox. I know that the most important thing is for me to grab those moments of calm and enjoyment and focus on them and build on them. Yet every time one happens I feel guilty for not being miserable. This is one of those things that I honestly cannot comment on other peoples' experiences with as I have never discussed it with others in similar situations. Do people have this problem?

This will continue to be a battle over the next few days as I work towards healthy.

The Art of Taking Risks

This post is part three in my series on depression and anxiety that are being written 90% to help me get through this next little while, 5% to help me process by  putting things in words, and 5% to help others understand depression and anxiety better.

I have received some really sweet messages from people saying that they are actually finding my last two posts really valuable in their openness and honesty. One of these messages actually tied in really well with something I have been thinking about a lot lately - the art of not just taking risks, but knowing when to stop. She actually mentioned an event I have been thinking about a lot lately and that I think ties in with the recent events - the time I tried to run an 8K technical race and didn't finish.

What is the connection? When I ran that race I was scared to do it but I gave it a try. I realized partway through that it wasn't working and was putting me in danger, but I was so determined to keep going that I pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I kept pushing. Until I found myself having an asthma attack two kilometres from help and no inhaler (that was due to a separate bit of bad life choices). I put myself in serious danger because I didn't stop when I knew I should stop. Because I forced myself to keep pushing through even when I knew it wasn't going to work.

This is another situation that I was scared to do but gave a try. I realized partway through that it wasn't working, and for a short while I continued to push. What's the difference? That time I put my life in danger because I couldn't admit when it was time to stop. This time I decided to stop. This time I saw the writing on the wall and decided to step back and keep myself safe.

~~~

The people from the school have been very supportive since I made my decision. I had a really interesting conversation with them on Monday where we discussed the idea I'm trying to get to today. I told them that if I had thought this would happen like this I would never have come and that I felt bad about things. They said something amazing -that just because I have depression doesn't mean I shouldn't ever take risks.

What a thought. Just because I have depression doesn't mean I shouldn't take risks. I can take risks. Risks are okay.

What a thought. I spent most of my life playing absolutely everything as safe as possible. I did nothing to draw attention to myself, nothing that could put me at risk of being hurt physically, nothing that could put me at risk of embarrassment or pain or worst of all failure. In the last few years I have been growing out of this. I started to be able to take risks and come out of my safe little shell. I loved it, feeling like I was brave and capable.

Now I have encountered a risk that knocked me down pretty hard. So how do I respond? Do I go back into my safe little shell? Or do I keep taking risks even knowing how badly it can end?

I choose option c. I keep taking risks but I keep this lesson in mind: it is alright to acknowledge when something is not working and when a risk hasn't turned out. But I do not let this defeat me and stop me from living a full life. Because then this really would be a failure.

Life in depression/anxiety

I just submitted and shared a post explaining the situation I have found myself in - on the other side of the world from my normal support system in a depression/anxiety relapse and trying to cope while also trying to get home as quickly as possible.

What I want to do in this post is explain a bit what it feels like to me. Something I need to make VERY clear is that every person who has depression or anxiety issues will experience things completely different. Some may have similarities to how I experience it, but no two people will have the same feelings and reactions. So this is not how anyone with these issues experiences them, it is how I experience them. Particularly how I am experiencing them this time, as it is different than from when I was younger. I have more life experience now and it changes how I feel and how things affect me.



The depression side of the coin:

While the two issues are incredibly and inextricably linked I am going to try to separate out my thoughts into those that would be considered more "depression" and those that would be considered more "anxiety".

Depression involves a number of things for me. One is simply uncontrollable crying. Sunday morning I spent four hours lying in bed sobbing. If you asked me why I was crying I would not have been able to tell you, I was just crying. This had been happening a lot over the last few weeks, I would start crying (sometimes with a trigger, sometimes with a seemingly trigger but not really about that, and sometimes for no reason at all). I could still experience happiness and have fun - I really did have fun at some of the social events that happened recently - but then when alone the tears would start.

It also involves a feeling of physical fatigue, where the body just says no. Getting up and going into work was getting harder and harder each day. And while I was still enjoying things, the enjoyment was always a little bit tainted. Like I was looking at everything around me through a dim lens.

The depression side of its coin reaches its worst when the suicide ideation begins. This was the line in the sand I had drawn. Don't get me wrong, I had already been at the point of "maybe if I get hit by a bus I don't have to deal with work and all this stuff for a few weeks while I recover" but last weekend was when I reached the "maybe I should just walk into the North Sea. Either I'll drown or die of hypothermia, but either way I won't be here anymore" point. Why? Because I was so overwhelmed I just couldn't imagine another day. Why didn't I? Because there's a part of me that remembers just how good it can get, and knew that there were better ways out.

Self-harm is another issue all together. People self-harm for a variety of reasons and I don't want to make it sound like I speak for anyone but me. The last time I self-injured was in University (either first or second year). I was dealing with depression and anxiety and a lot of stress and it just kept feeling like the emotions and problems were building and building and building inside of me and becoming pressure. Cutting was a way to release that pressure. I remember exactly where the last time I cut was - on my right leg just below the knee. As things got better this stopped happening and I never self-harmed again. I really didn't even have urges anymore, it was part of my past. But a big reason I knew it was time to step away here was that the urge was back. The pressure was building up and building up and building up and I knew I could make it release. I knew I could get temporary relief, but I didn't want that. I wanted things to get better for real. Instead I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until I fell asleep, then woke up sobbing some more and made the decision to save myself.



The anxiety side of the coin:

Anxiety affects me in a large variety of ways, and one of the ways is by interacting with the depression just discussed. A lot of the crying fits are initiated by an anxiety trigger first or by the feeling I can't cope which is the anxiety speaking.

But there are other effects to anxiety. Physical, emotional, neurological.

To explain what an acute anxiety attack can feel like I want to go back to the last one I had before this. It is actually the only one I've had in the last 5 years, and it didn't worry me too much because it was well explained. I had been training as a runner (still am, or at least will be when I get home). I ran a few 5K races and then decided to join a friend of mine running an 8K technical race. I had no idea just how technical they meant it was. I'm pretty sure there's a blog post somewhere describing the comedy of errors that that race was, but suffice to say that by the time I was having an asthma attack 2 or more km from help and with no one else on the trail my anxiety was pretty high. Looking back it is really interesting to try to separate out the two attacks as they are so similar in certain effects - with either one I can't breathe. I feel panicked and scared and my lungs just won't work. I think I cycled back and forth between the two: the asthma causing an anxiety attack which kept me from regaining my breath so furthered the asthma attack. It was a horrible, horrible experience.

An acute anxiety attack always is. I stop being able to breathe, I have to fight for every breath into my body. I burst into tears and I can't stop moving. Or sometimes I can't start moving. I often keel over into the fetal position because my body stops being able to support it's own weight. Sometimes I think I'm going to die. I had a couple of these over the last few weeks, usually out of the eyes of anyone else. They are not pleasant.

So there's acute anxiety attacks. But what about just generalized high anxiety? Well that's where I am mostly at now. The depression is receding but the anxiety is still very very high. I wake up in the morning and it feels like a physical presence weighing down on me while at the same time my heart starts racing. The last couple days I have spent a couple hours in the morning focusing on nothing but breathing until that starts to feel like a normal activity again and I can start doing other things. From there the anxiety will ebb and flow during the day. Sometimes I am almost me, other times the weight comes back and I can't breathe. I become irrationally obsessed with things that are either not that big a deal or a fixable problem. But I can't see past them. So I sit and I breathe. And I breathe some more. And some more. And if that isn't helping I take a sedative and keep breathing. And eventually it recedes again and I can resume trying to solve the problems. If you get a really intense message from me it is probably during one of these crests of anxiety - I apologize.



I hope that gives you an insight into what it is like for a person (or at least this person) battling depression and anxiety. A lot of people ask how they can help - keep in touch with me. Even if you don't know what to say, send me random thoughts and messages. The more connected to people I feel the more I stay in the low anxiety zone.

An adventure turns to depression and why I'm going home.

Hello all.

I know some of you have known me for a lot of years so know about my history, but some of you only recently came to know me and don't have that context. I have always been a very open person about my struggles, both because I find talking with people about it discourages stigma and because that is how I get through tough times - talking and getting support. Not everyone is always comfortable with the way I share my feelings, so I will give those people a warning this is probably not a post you want to read.


I may regret posting this publicly at some point, but I refuse to hide who I am and what my life is. And right now my life is tough. So here goes.

When I was younger I had a lot of issues with depression and anxiety. I don't think going into all the detail here is helpful, but I was first suicidal at a very young age and struggled through must of my adolescent years. I was lucky to have an incredibly supportive family who helped me find good resources.

When I moved to the city to attend University at the age of 18 I knew it was important I set up some resources right away. I got very lucky and ended up with a fantastic psychiatrist who I have worked with since. I also found myself involved in a peer support group for people with depression and bipolar as well as other affective disorders. This was about a decade ago. Over that decade I did a lot of intense therapy, tried different combinations of medication, and grew a lot. The last time I had serious suicidal thoughts or harmed myself was about 7 years ago. I got my degree in education and became an "adult". I worked a variety of jobs, some teaching and some non-classroom. I became a very high-functioning person and my doctor felt that I was no longer someone with depression so much as someone with childhood issues that were getting resolved and a tendency towards anxiety.


This year I decided to take a big, giant risk. I decided to try something I had considered in the past but not done - moving overseas to teach. I talked with  my doctor and we both felt that I had come far enough that I should be okay. I dismantled my life and moved to England with a teaching contract lined up and a sense of adventure. My first few weeks here were hard in terms of homesickness, I realized how strongly tied to my hometown I am. During this time we did some training and induction stuff and I met amazing people here which helped a lot. I was able to enjoy a summer where I was happy and stable, if still homesick, and having the adventure I wanted. There were a couple blips in the road, particularly concerning instability of my living situation, but things got sorted and I was feeling positive.

Then school started. That was two and a half weeks ago. This is not the time or place to try to discuss what all triggered things the way it did, but that is when things went downhill fast. Within the first week I had my first anxiety attack in years. I was coming home in tears more often than not, and really struggling with my sense of self in this system. Within the first week I also had my first meltdown, where I was unable to finish a day of teaching due to uncontrollable crying.  I told my mentor as well as my department leadership what was happening and they were very supportive. Taking the advice of them and others who have been through the relocation experience I focused on taking good care of myself and managed to tread water for about another week. Then some things happened that were out of my control. Again this is not the place to go into details, I'm not sure anywhere is except my doctor's office. But I found myself somewhere I have not been in a long time - having suicidal thoughts and fighting the urge to self-harm.

Now a quick bit of information - these two things are not the same nor do they necessarily relate as much as it sounds. The last time I self-harmed was in University when I felt the pressure of my emotions to be too much and found that the physical pain released that pressure. It was not at that time a desire to die or anything related to suicide. This time was similar - I wanted the pressure release. But this time it did accompany suicidal ideation.

So that brings me to where I am now. I decided that I could try to force myself to continue and maybe it would get better, but most likely it would only postpone an even worse crash to come. I don't have the resources and supports that I used to have, and while many fantastic people here have been very supportive it is not the same thing as having proper medical supports. I am in the process of getting supports here but it was taking too long. I decided that it was better for me and the students that I leave now than that I stay and something worse happen down the road. If I'm honest my  brain wasn't functioning properly - I found myself going into sensory overload a lot and being unable to process everything happening - which was not good for the students anyway. So I made the decision and I am returning to Canada.

But not yet. I have loose ends to tie up, and I don't know how quickly I can get them tied up. I have a housing situation to deal with, flights to rearrange, material possessions to get rid of, accounts to close and sort out (gas and water and such). I expect it will take at least two weeks for me to finish everything. So two weeks of being still away from my supports, having empty days ahead of me, and feeling incredibly alone. I am so lucky to have supportive people in my life. I am just unlucky that a seven hour time difference means that the hardest part of the day is when they are mostly asleep (and the rest who are here are at work).


So there's my story. Not posted for pity, but so that people can see what truly happened and know the truth. And so I can discuss the next parts. So I can write the next post I want to write explaining what depression and anxiety feel like to me. And the next part about risk taking with the added risk of depression. And a third or fourth or fifth possible parts as I try to explore my thoughts on this scenario while also trying to help those who don't quite understand but want to to see what it is like without burdening them by making them listen individualy.

Rag and Bone Man

This morning I got to see something interesting and new to me that exists here: the Rag-and-Bone Man.

I was sitting in the living room when my roommate ran in saying it was the Rag-and-Bone Man was here, and told me to come outside to see. I was totally confused and had no idea what she was talking about so stepped outside with her. I couldn't see anything at first but could hear a rattling noise from down the street.

My room-mate explained to me what was happening: historically these men would collect rags and bones to sell as scrap. As they rode through town they would call out and people would know it was time to out out their junk. You can read all about it on Wikipedia:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rag-and-bone_man

Today's Rag-and-Bone Man collects scrap metal, not rags or bones. When he appeared I could see he was riding a bike and hauling a cart behind him. On the cart I could see a bicycle, a couple metal buckets, and various other scrap. As he rounded the corner he called out his notice of being around. It was really neat to see! 

Scotland Round 2 - Highlights

Hello my loves! I am sitting on my couch visiting with Quirk having returned yesterday from a weeklong adventure in Scotland. I took about 200 pictures and did so many things I can't remember all of them, so instead of trying to hit everything I thought I would give a brief highlights summary of our days there.

Last Sunday we took the bus up to Edinburgh. After a frustrating adventure with Google confusing us as to the location of our hostel we got settled in and went out for a nice dinner at Nando's, which they don't have back in Canada but I was introduced to last time I was here. We didn't do much else, having an early night from travel exhaustion.



Monday morning we grabbed breakfast and explored went off for castles. We did a tour of Edinburgh Castle followed by some exploring on our own. From there we walked down the Royal Mile to Holyrood Palace at the other end.

 After some more exploring and lunch we made our way up to one of the theatre areas in the city to enjoy a play about the life of Albert Einstein. It was really enjoyable! Scientifically speaking it was sound, it was quite funny, and all around I had a blast. I even got to meet the star before going in!

 

In the evening we went to a pub where Katherine met some very nice fellows from Glasgow. We met up with them again later at a live music place called "Cowshed" which was basically a hoedown. It was a blast!

 

 

 

Tuesday morning we got up for another day of adventures in Edinburgh. We attended another play, The Steadfast Tin Soldier, after seeing the troupe singing while walking down the Royal Mile. From there we went on to do a little shopping before our tour of the historic vaults of Edinburgh. I find the vaults very interesting - they were formed when South Bridge was built (completed 1788). They were originally meant to be used by merchants but were also used for other purposes such as illegal stills and squatters. The tour gave a really interesting view of the history of Edinburgh and what life in the city would have been like. Because of the geological boundaries (and man-made ones) Edinburgh historically was actually a very small area. To make up for it they built both down and up a lot - buildings are up to 12 or 14 floors. The bridge was built to give better access to an area being developed at the time, called "New Town" as the city expanded.

 

 

 

 

Wednesday we began our tour of the Highlands. I was thrilled to discover that we had the same tour guide that I had for the one-day tour we took on my first trip to Scotland. This is where my memory becomes all out of order and I can't even try to tell you what happened in what order.

 

One big highlight was taking the chair lift at the Glencoe Ski Centre to see the views. I have a moderate fear of heights, so this was one of those "do it specifically because I'm scared to" things. I ended up riding with a girl named Cheryl who is originally from Scotland but living in England - chatting with her was a good distraction from my fear. The views were absolutely amazing and completely worth the fear.

 

We also got to walk right into the valley of Glencoe to hear the story of the Glencoe Massacre. It was a really interesting experience and much better allowed me to picture the story.

 

That evening was a lot of fun as well. I had a delicious dinner of haggis stuffed chicken with whiskey sauce. That's right, haggis. It was actually delicious - and as someone pointed out it's really no grosser than what goes into hot dogs and sausages. I enjoyed it a lot. I took off for a while and had some alone time in nature sitting along the side of the canal in Fort Augustus, and then walking up the canal to the edge of the village. After that I returned and had fun with the party-crazy Aussies in the bar. They were very silly (and some of them were very drunk) but I had a blast.




Thursday was day 2 of the tour and up to areas I had not been before. The main focus of the day was going up towards the Isle of Skye. Sadly the clouds were very low so we could not see as much as hoped, but we still got to see plenty of beautiful sights.

One of my favourite parts of the day was the river we stopped at. We walked down to the water's edge where we were told a story which involved a legend - that if you stuck your face in the water for 8 seconds it would "restore all natural beauty". Our tour guide asked for people who were willing to do this and I was one of those who volunteered. However I am me, so when I went to lean into the water my left hand slid out from under me and I fell face-first into the river. Other than being a lot more soaked than intended and having a couple bruises I was fine and had a lot of fun with it.

I also quite enjoyed a show we got to attend in the evening where we got to learn about life in the Highlands, see how tartans were actually put on, and see real, battle-scarred weapons. It was amazing and very informative!



Day 3 of the tour, Friday, took us back down towards Edinburgh. We passed through Inverness and then went to Culloden Battlefield, which was a very interesting experience. I have read many things that involve the history and aftermath of the battle there so have long been curious to see it. I actually didn't take many pictures (just one of the sign) because I felt I needed to respect the place in my own weird way. I walked from the flags marking the British side to the flags marking the Jacobite side and did some meditating and praying. It was an intensely emotional experience for me and took quite a while to process when it was done. However I am very glad to have seen it and been able to experience the place for myself.

A more fun and uplifting experience was a tour of the Blair Athol distillery and a whiskey tasting there. It was really neat to see the process of how whiskey is made, and after having tried a few whiskeys earlier in the trip I really enjoyed theirs. It is a sweeter whiskey which is aged in sherry casks. Very nice.

Our return to Edinburgh was a bit rocky - it turned out we were in our hostel's secondary location which involved quite a schlep across the city. With Fringe being going on it was a little overwhelming and I was pretty grumpy by the end (unfortunately). However by the next morning I forgave the city and loved it again!


Saturday we took a train out to Glasgow where we were able to explore a bit of that city. We spent some time at the Glasgow Science Centre, as well as exploring the Necropolis - a very interesting and beautiful Victorian cemetery. After getting all dolled up we went out for an evening on the town and got to experience a bit of local Glasgow life. It was a lot of fun.



Overall the trip was amazing. My connection with the Highlands only grew, and I miss it there already. I realized how much my country girl heart misses being out in nature and all it's beauty - something I will have to be more careful about. Attending the Edinburgh Fringe was a great experience and something I highly recommend to people. Glasgow surprised me by being much more enjoyable than I expected (having had various people warn me to not go there). However it is the Highlands I love and will keep with me.

Edinburgh Revisited Chapter 1: What a day

Hello! This will be a pictureless post for now as I am stocking up pictures to blow your minds with in future posts. We are safely in Edinburgh and enjoying a quiet night in our hostel after a comedy of errors style day. 

The morning started off alright with a relatively pleasant train trip from Cleethorpes to Doncaster. There we got some lunch and sat down to wait for our train. And wait. And wait. And wait... The train ended up being 51 minutes late. As we had no connections to make I mostly just laughed and we amused each other with YouTube videos and music. When the train eventually did arrive it was absolutely packed to the gills with people and suitcases. After some shifting around we were able to store our bags safely on a rack that was too small for most of the other luggage. We found seats after York, and after Newcastle we found new seats that were actually together. 

I spent most of the train journey listening to music and knitting. However as we reached Scotland I put the knitting away to stare out the windows and enjoy the beautiful scenery. It is indescribable. I thought that maybe I had hyped this place up to myself too much and it wouldn't live up, but I was wrong. The magic of Scotland lives! 

When we arrived in Edinburgh the station was full to the brim of people trying to get on the train for the return journey to London. We were barely able to get off the train and fight our way through the crowds to leave the station. Letting Google lead the way we began the trek to our hostel. It took us a very pretty route circumnavigating Edinburgh Castle, but not a very direct route. I can forgive Google for that. However we might have a falling out over the actual location of the hostel. It took twenty minutes of walking back and forth, complete confusion about the way buildings are numbered, and Katherine eventually asking the nice scary looking man with no front teeth directions for us to find the place. 

Then it was time to try to get in. In our defense, it turned out the door was locked and we spent five minutes trying to open it in vain. Turns out the lady had just stepped out to go to one of the flats (it is a hostel apartment building - quite interesting actually).

Once we got settled we decided to go for dinner. Last time I was here I had a lovely dinner with my beloved Vanessa at Nando's so I suggested we go there. Dinner was very lovely. So was the sangria. What followed from there was pure silliness, at least part of which is to be blamed on one of our other Canadian girls and a task she set us involving accents. That is all I will say about that for now. 

When we got back to the hostel apartment place it was time to shower and settle in for the night. My poor travel companion didn't get to shower however as it is a bit of a strange set up - turns out you have to turn on power to the shower using the big scary looking red power switch outside the bathroom. A little bit of teamwork and investigation later this process was discovered and I was able to enjoy a nice weak shower (oh how I miss good water pressure!)

Tomorrow will be a day of castles and walking along with much more silliness. I look forward to it!

Oxford

This week I travelled to Oxford with my housemate Laura. We took the train Thursday morning, which was about four hours. Not a bad trip at all! A fair amount of pretty scenery. I love going past grain fields because they remind me of home.

We decided to walk from the train station to the flat we are staying in (courtesy of Air B&B). It was a good decision! The walk was largely along the Oxford Canal which was incredibly beautiful!

My favourite thing about the canal was the ducks. They were very tame and not afraid at all. The also had ducklings! So darling!

When we got to the flat there was a bit of confusion about the location of the key and how to open the door (have I mentioned my hatred of British locks? They are awful!) but after some sandwich related blood sugar relief we dropped our stuff off and headed back out. I walked down to Oxford Castle, past some really neat sights.

 

The Castle is a bit strange. There's not a lot of castle left. The most prominent thing is a large grassy mound where the original castle, built over a thousand years ago from wood, would have stood. I will return to this interesting mound.

There is also the county hall, which is a beautiful building on part of the original castle grounds. 

Finally there are a few pieces of the castle itself (built of stone slightly later than the very first one was)

There is a tour of the castle that, from it's advertising, somewhat resembles the format of the York Dungeon that I recently visited. I decided not to do this but did pay £1 for access to walk to the top of the grassy mound. Talking with the girl in the store she explained to me that under the mound was originally a well though it has long since dried up. When they did an archaeological dig in 2003 they discovered 64 skeletons in there from the 16th century. This didn't stop me from exploring the mound however, or going partway into the well vault (which was admittedly super creepy!)

I would have enjoyed my time on top of the mount more if it weren't for the group of obnoxious European teenagers being incredibly annoying. However it was still quite neat to sit and look out at the city.

After coming down from the mound I wandered around for a bit. I made my way eventually to the Ashmolean Museum as that is where Laura was and it was the only museum open past 5. It was absolutely amazing! The first exhibit I entered was of ancient statues collected by one Duke with the story of how he built his collection and how it ended up at Oxford. From there I found my way to exhibits about Greece, Cyprus, Crete, the Near East, and Rome. My favourite part however was a room with casts of famous statues that I remember studying in my Greek/Roman Art & Architecture Class. It was so neat to see them! 

Laura came and found me in that room and we went off to find dinner. We went to Jamie's Italian, one of the Jamie Oliver restaurants. It was very delicious. 

Friday my priority was the Museum of the History of Science. Since it didn't open until noon I had time in the morning to fill. I had a few ideas but began the day with a bit of wandering in the general direction of the tourist stuff. 

I found my way to Christchurch Cathedral. It is interesting because it is both a cathedral and the college parish. It was a beautiful building, but instead of paying to go in (I had a goal of being cheap, it fell through drastically later in the day alas) I opted to walk through Christchurch Meadow. The entrance is a beautifully manicured set of gardens called the War Memorial Gardens, then it leads to actual meadows. They were a wonderful piece of country inside the city. 

I had a slight moment of juvenile grumpiness after that last picture when my camera's batteries died. I blame lack of sleep for the fact I got quite grumpy and pouty for about three minutes before I kicked myself in the butt and just went and got new batteries. From there I walked over to the Oxford Botanic Garden. It is quite a pretty botanical garden. I was getting hungry enough that I was very tempted to steal from the citrus trees. I wandered through for a while before finding a bench by a lovely fountain to sit and enjoy the picnic lunch I had purchased in the morning. It was quite peaceful and enjoyable, at least until an aggressive wasp decided that it wanted my apple far more than I did. 

After leaving the botanic gardens I walked over to the part of town that the museum was in. As it wasn't noon yet I took some pictures of nearby buildings and then hung out on a bench for a while. 

The museum was amazing. I love old scientific instruments for their intricacy and ornamentation. I was certainly not disappointed in here. There were tons of beautiful compasses, astrolabes, microscopes, sectants, chemistry equipment, and photography items. It was amazing. 

That being said the most exciting part of the museum to a physics nerd such as myself is the Einstein chalkboard. Basically it is what it says: a chalkboard preserved after being used by Einstein when he visited as a guest lecturer. I had to stop and pay homage here. 

After the museum I was finding myself very dehydrated so I stopped and got cream tea (tea + scones with clotted cream and jam) at a cute little cafe along with about four glasses of water. On the way to the cafe Google led me through an amazing little alley that I would never have noticed on my own:

I decided to continue being nerdy and walked over to the Natural History Museum. It was closed, but you could still access the Pitt Rivers Museum through it. This was a good decision I made as Pitt Rivers is amazing! 

It is called a museum of anthropology and world archaeology. It is different from other museums however as items are not sorted by origin but by use. The idea is to showcase how cultures all over the world came up with similar or different items for the same purposes. It is beautifully set up with all the items having hand-written labels. I wandered around like a kid in a candy store admiring the beautifully set up displays. It is like a giant emporium of history and has an amazing feel to it. I feel like I could spend days wandering contentedly through here admiring items. However I was pretty burnt out from touristing by this point so met Laura and headed back to the train station. So ended our lovely pair of days in Oxford!