Black Dog Days

Morissette, I will take your ten thousand spoons over any
number of knives.

Oh, that hurt.

I've been looking after Arya while she has chicken pox, and the virus seems to have snuck in and tried to give me shingles. Fortunately, I had chicken pox and my immune system had words, but they were strong words delivered in the manner of one of the fight scenes in the new Daredevil series, and left me well and truly trashed. I was literally unable to face the train journey home on Sunday, so had to make my way directly from Ipswich to work this morning and I feel like I climbed a mountain.

Actually, I've climbed a mountain; I've climbed two, and I never felt this rough afterwards*.

It doesn't help that I was pretty hammered this time last weekend. I really need to get some sleep. Ah well, I guess that Wednesday night Marvel Marathon is out of the question.

On the upside, I had some super quality time with my daughter, in between the howling-at-the-injustice-of-illness moments and the exhaustion. On the downside, before I worked out that I was sick and hungry on Sunday, I was careening towards a state of black depression like I've not known in a good while; probably not since I stopped teaching. Fortunately Arya's presence helped to stabilise me, but it was pretty alarming.

I don't talk about my depression much, but it's always there, hovering in the background. It hits me like the proverbial black dog**, knocking me down and taking all the wind out of me. It makes me physically slower and makes me question my worth and my contribution. Arya helps because just being with her I know I am loved and held in the highest value, and that I have contributed to making something wonderful. I ought to be able to remember that when she isn't there, but it doesn't work that way.

Perhaps the most insidious aspect of depression is that it makes you feel blameworthy for being depressed. This is a trap, but knowing it is a trap and avoiding that trap are two different things. I spend much of my life on the brink of the pit, aware that there is solid ground to my back but unable to step away. It's not a unique feeling, and was described by another famous black dog sufferer***. Not that I have had actual suicidal thoughts for a long time now, but the vertiginous sensation is all too familiar.

I'm much better today, because I'm no longer fighting off infection along with exhaustion, and I can look back and, not laugh, but recognise the tricks the dog played on me and acknowledge them with a nod and a grim smile. He won't be there tomorrow, but he'll be around; it's just a case of taking it a day at a time, and keeping him out in the yard where he belongs.

* Full disclosure, they were smallish mountains in the Britannic mould, and I suspect that the invigorating fresh air helped a lot.
** "The black dog I hope always to resist, and in time to drive, though I am deprived of almost all those that used to help me…When I rise my breakfast is solitary, the black dog waits to share it, from breakfast to dinner he continues barking, except that Dr Brocklesby for a little keeps him at a distance…Night comes at last, and some hours of restlessness and confusion bring me again to a day of solitude. What shall exclude the black dog from a habitation like this?" - Samuel Johnson
*** "I don’t like standing near the edge of a platform when an express train is passing through. I like to stand back and, if possible, get a pillar between me and the train. I don’t like to stand by the side of a ship and look down into the water. A second’s action would end everything. A few drops of desperation." - Winston Churchill

Weariness, books and old friends

It's all up with my spoons at the moment. I am super tired, thanks to Arya kicking me out of bed at a critical time.

I can tell I'm especially tired because a) having retreated to Arya's bedroom after being kicked out of my own, I woke up panicking that she was gone and b) I misheard the interests of one of the contestants on Swashbuckle as 'carnage' instead of 'colouring'. I also really wanted to know who was going to win in Kerwhizz*, which can not be a good sign.

Still, we actually managed to get some time to ourselves this weekend, so Hanna and I finished off The Musketeers and watched a bunch of The 100 which has been sitting on our Sky box for ever so. The fact that we stayed up to get to the end of the finale of The Musketeers may not have helped with our spondular deficit.

We also had a visit from my old friend Jon, whom I've not seen in person in ages. On the up side, we have some tentative board gaming plans for the near future.

Also went to the dentist; all seems to be good. Yay!

I am a coherent blogger, damnit!

* Which describes itself as 'the quiz with added whiz,' although I maintain that it is actually the quiz with added er.

Life is Over and Under and Up and Down

This weekend has been a super-challenging one, as I was Arya's sole on-the-scene carer for all of the long Empire weekend. Hanna and Andrew seem to have had fun, and so did I; Arya is harder to judge, but for the most part I think it went well. We baked and I managed not to be too obsessive about keeping mess to a limit.

As a result, however, I don't have a lot to write about that isn't covered in my baby blog, because damn that was hard work. Single parents, I don't know how you do it. (Well, apart from the ones who live in filth, send their kids to school at five with no language comprehension, and spend the child benefits on booze and ciggies; I know how they do it. I mean the ones who do it right.)

George Vernon Hudson must die!

Film pitch: An inventor creates a time machine. His exhausted assistant, completely frazzled after the loss of an hour's sleep, travels back in time to kill George Vernon Hudson before he can propose the idea of changing the clocks twice a year.

It could be called Saving Daylight.

Domestic bliss.

On Friday I went to Martlesham on emergency leave to look after Arya. She had a bit of a fever from an ear infection and Hanna and Andrew have blown most of their leave already. It was also a chance of some extra time with Arya, which is not to be passed up.

The big stories of the weekend are the nursery/Arya's bedroom, which has had a dramatic overhaul, and the switch to BST, which turns out to be way more disorienting with a child involved.We spent much of Sunday in a collective fog and it was perpetually an hour later than we thought. It didn't help that Saturday night was hit and miss for sleep, although on Friday night Hanna and I got to cuddle up together and have the bed to ourselves all night for the first time in... I don't know how long.

Eschewing the many TV shows we have to catch up on, Hanna and I watched Transformers: Age of Extinction (thank you, LoveFilm) and Edge of Tomorrow on DVD/BluRay. One of these films is very good.

There is probably more to say, but I'm still a bit discombobulated. I love my family; that bears repeating.

So do you!

In 1940, the idea that 'alien' meant anything
except 'foreign' was apparently... well,
alien. Also, get the fuck out of Harwich, yo!

This weekend I traveled over to Ipswich to spend time there, as Hanna was working Friday and Saturday. This was a pretty demanding run, but since Hanna was working until 8.30 both nights, I can't really complain. We went to the Ipswich Museum, which has a bomb shelter exhibit featuring a police notice regarding the Aliens (Protected Areas) Order, which basically says no aliens are allowed in Harwich (and defines what they mean by Harwich.)

I got to spend plenty of time with Arya, although I am missing time with Hanna. On the upside, this week was a bit of a one-off to claw back some of the hours lost in transferring (and from the nightmare commute to Greenwich) and she's unlikely to be as tired and as busy in general. We've got a lazy weekend together planned for the next.

I've had a bad week for eating and I need to get a handle on that. I want to be sure I cook properly this week. I also want to get to the cinema, both to use my card and because there's stuff I want to see - Chappie, probably Seventh Son, even though I am sure it's going to suck, and what the hell, Insurgent - and I've already missed Paddington and Big Hero 6. Cinderella I'm going to take Hanna and Arya to see, even if we don't make it past the Frozen short*.

So, yeah; I feel lumpy and a bit short on spoons at the moment, but hopefully a week of living right - and keeping my diet - will help get me on the mend.

I'm also getting alternately psyched and terrified about spending the whole weekend solo with Arya over Easter.

* Ah, Frozen Shorts; that takes me way back. Also, I am now bummed out to learn that Gary Rosen died. Stupid nostalgia.

Enphoned, like an upwardly mobile monkey

Andrew and I adopt what I am sure the world
sees as our 'gay dads'  aspect.

This weekend was very heavily about Arya and Hanna, being the former's birthday (almost) and the first time I'd seen the latter since her birthday, as well as Mother's Day.

We took Arya to the zoo, which she appeared to love, although the stuffed owl that she chose from the gift shop went out of favour as it was being paid for. It feels hard to complain when that was her only serious present from us, and came in cheaper than one zoo ticket, especially as there is every chance of a change of favour any day.

One girl!
Girl for sale!
Going cheap,
Only seven guineas.

I loved the zoo as well. I've always loved a good zoo - although I have dim memories of one in, I think, America that was so dismal that it just made me very sad, despite the fact that I was only a few years old - and Banham is pretty good, and there was a flying display with an owl who was comically resistant to trainer instructions. I was dressed a little fancy, as is my wont, and in retrospect I think the combination of baby reins and steampunky waistcoat and watch chain might have looked a little like I was trying to sell Arya.

Then we went to visit my parents, and I admit I always enjoy an opportunity for Arya to spend time with them. In this instance I kind of fell asleep on the sofa (rough night + four hours of walking around a zoo,) but it was a good time and Arya seemed to remember them well enough this time, which is a big part of the point. I guess the polyamory is still new enough for me that I want to be sure the family is working.

On Sunday we went swimming, then had brunch at Chiquito's so we could go into town and Hanna could get shoes. Hanna's shopping was unusually positive (in addition to new shoes, they told her they would accept for exchange the ones that never fit quite right,) and we were able to get two damaged charms from her bracelet replaced or repaired without caviling about receipts (always tricky for gifts.) On a personal note, I popped into the O2 shop and explained that as the local Carphone Warehouse had shut down, no-one had contacted me about the end of my contract, and could I sort something out so that I didn't have to keep paying through the nose for a phone I owned outright.

I am now the (proud?) owner of an LG G3, which is so far pretty good, and most importantly is no more than I was paying. It is also scarily fast compared to the old Note 1; Plants vs Zombies is scary as hell.

Back at home, I cooked a big roast dinner (chicken) for Mother's Day, which ran a little later than I'd planned, but did work out pretty well. I also have leftovers.

Forgive me if it goes astray

I have an evil persona. Well, not really evil; he's more of a whiny, passive-aggressive dick. He comes out when I'm tired or stressed or especially hungry, and while I mostly have him in hand these days, I still have moments where I become the whiny, passive-aggressive me and I hurt the people I care about.

In place of a picture of me acting like a dick,
here is a gorilla painted like Iron Man.

Please note the careful use of pronouns there. While I consider this side of my personality to be 'not me', I'm not writing off responsibility for my actions. Whiny, passive-aggressive dick me is still me.

On the upside, I deal with this better than I used to. I manifested this side of myself on Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning, and snapped at Hanna. It was utterly uncalled for, horribly unfair and frankly ungrateful. I immediately regretted it, but you can't take these things back. I'm just glad that Hanna didn't drive off into the night with Arya swearing never to speak to me again. It might have been an overreaction, but not by very much.

Anyway, as was my response to this would have been to justify myself, but I've grown as a person. When Hanna sent me to bed with a flea in my ear I lay awake for a while, running through the various justifications in my head. This gave me the chance to assess just how much of a moaning tosser I would have sounded like and realise that when you do something for which you can expect no forgiveness, the only thing you can do is ask and hope.

And Hanna is an amazing person. I'm not saying I won't pay for this later, but she certainly didn't make a thing of it when we were both still exhausted, which shows far more wisdom than I did.

Anyway, onwards and upwards, for it is better to seek to do better than to crave indulgence for past failures. This weekend I shall not see Hanna and Arya at all, and that will sting, but the reason is that I am attending my first field LRP. I'll be crewing at No Rest for the Wicked, at Castle Fansh near Haltwhistle. I have... some kit options in hand.

I have also resolved that for financial reasons I am going to try to mod my own Nerf guns.

This does mean that I will miss Hanna's birthday, but I am instead letting her use my flat for a girly sleepover, which thus means this week's evenings will largely be given over to some manner of tidying and laying in of luxury hot chocolate components. We then have a plan to take Arya to the zoo next weekend, have a birthday tea with my parents and then a family mother's day.