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Overdoing It

Chronic illness is a funny old thing (not as in haha funny, as I’m sure you’ll understand if you’re reading this!). Sometimes you can do nothing and feel absolutely awful as if you’ve run a marathon then had the remainder of life sucked out of you by a Dementor, Harry Potter style. Other times you have the luxury of doing a little bit more than usual and feeling ok, no post extertional malaise days later, you just keep on plodding along. And then there is actually overdoing it and your mind and body punishing you for it as if to make sure you never leave the house again.

Last week I worked a couple of extra hours, had to get to the vet with my kitty cat (old lady check and essential vaccines) and like an idiot decided to book a ticket to the (very) local book discussion at a book store to see my favourite writer, horticulturist, and all round awesome woman.

Extra hours worked, no more than two I might add, lifts to and from work all week by my wonderful team of colleagues and friends I was doing ok-ish. Getting to the vets with my wife which is five minutes away wasn’t too troublesome. But as we were sitting in there waiting for the nurse to find the kitty blood pressure cuff (by the way the cutest thing in history – see here), that feeling came over me, as if someone had pulled the plug out and I needed to lie down immediately. I couldn’t string a sentence together, support my own body weight – thank goodness for the kind nurse who brought in chairs – or feel like I was going to be able to keep my eyes open. When that feeling hits I feel like I could collapse at any given minute, something which thankfully has only happened once and luckily I made it to my sofa in time. As soon as we made it home my wife helped me put my pjs on and I made it to bed, tramadol, a bottle of water and a very upset kitty cat for company. I slept solidly for three hours.

As the week went on I became more and more anxious. My generalised anxiety disorder (GAD) has no known trigger but tiredness makes it so much worse. I couldn’t face the book talk, could I. At the last minute I awoke from a nap just in time to slowly get ready and get the bus which thank god is only five stops and door to door. Disability pass in hand I bagged a front seat and the driver waited until my backside had hit the itchy nylon cushion. Alys Fowler is a true hero of mine, she inspired me to garden when I was housebound for almost three months with the onset of GAD, got me obsessed with growing my own fruit, vegetables and cut flowers, study floristry and she writes an awesome book. I got the lift to the third floor, folded up Little Johnny and made it just in time. For that short period of time I forgot about being ill in the intimate setting of the small discussion and enjoyed myself more than I have in a while. Everyone I told bar my parents said I need to get out more and am too young to watch a horticulturist impart her life wisdom in my spare time, but I’m so glad I braved it and made it. My hair may have been a disaster, make up smeared around my eyes post nap, but I didn’t care, and neither did Alys when I had the opportunity to chat with her.

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Next comes the weekend. A time to have luxurious lie ins, wander about the local area (I live in Brighton’s iconic area of coloured terraced houses and steep streets), eat great food and meet friends. Er no! My so called lie in woke me at 3am Saturday morning so dizzy I had to hold onto the wall when popping to the loo, lie down in stages as my head was swirling as if I’d drank one too many bottles of wine, and of course, couldn’t get back to sleep. Dizziness to this extent is reserved for times when I have seriously overdone it. I assume this means going to the vets and sitting down to watch a 45 minute book discussion. Really living it large! The dizziness intensified and waned throughout the day depending on how close I was to my next nap and all hopes of cooking delicious healthy food went out the window for a takeaway. I felt as if I was floating all day, was nauseous and a strange pale shade of grey that matched the dark circles under my eyes. I fell asleep on the sofa, awoke as dawn broke and spent the next few hours waking up every half hour. Exhausted and still dizzy I gave in at 9am and made myself a cup of tea. Unable to get to sleep for a nap I decided to get out my notebook/laptop and write this blog.

Tomorrow the cycle begins again, my alarm will go off and my incredibly boring, sedate, yet exhausting routine starts all over again…

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Spring At Home

Spring is such a beautiful time of year, it’s a close second the array of bronzed colours Autumn brings.

If you’re a regular reader of my blog you’ll know that I don’t often get out an awful lot, and I certainly don’t have a garden to admire from the dark basement flat that is my home.

The winter had left me feeling rather down in the dumps and generally fed up of the four dark damp walls of my expensive Brighton rental home. With no grass verges outside, few trees and not a sparrow or starling to be heard twenty minutes inland from the sea, I was desperately craving some greenery and colour at home. But with the lack of sunlight I have always been convinced that no plant could survive here, just as I appeared to be struggling to.

Then I read a magazine article about how good it is for your mental health to fill your home with plants. I am lucky in that I have huge Victorian windowsills on the two windows in my flat so I decided to hot foot it (get the bus) up one of the steepest hills in Brighton to my (very) local garden centre.

I’m positive that once inside my wife despaired of me, I was thoroughly excited by the greenery an houseplant options that surrounded me and she promptly abandoned me for the book section! Cautious of the poor light I finally came home with a couple of plants, a cacti pot and some pretty pots for them.

A few weeks on, they are alive and well so after a doctor appointment we went to the local florist at our market who always have a lovely selection of plants. Having read aloe vera plants are good for aiding sleep and need little light, this insomniac got her hands on the biggest one there for the bedroom windowsill along with a beautiful red edged grass of which I’ve not a clue what it is.

Finally, I needed some floral colour, so a trip to Marks and Spencers gave me the opportunity to be treated by my wife to a couple of lovely bunches of flowers and daffodils that cost just 25p because one flower had started to open, bargain!

Having been a keen gardener back in my home town of Birmingham, and even volunteering for a Jacobean walled garden, this green fingered girl (ok, woman)  is loving chatting to and watering her plants, I forgot how much I missed it. I’ll certainly be getting a bunch of flowers every week too.

Here is a small snapshot of some of the colour that is currently filling my home. I hope you like it as much as I do!

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