Well, paint me orange and call me a volleyball.
So my depression is pretty much gone, as far as I can tell. I've emerged from the other side a much cleaner and neater person, which can only be for the best in the long run. I did realise, though, that I'm stronger than I thought. This occurred to me yesterday, when I realised that Mitch's problem is that he's weak. I came to this conclusion because being strong isn't being able to take on the world and hold it all in and never break down or anything... being strong is knowing when to admit you need help. I used to have a terrible problem with this, but... not so over the past few years.
But enough ranting. I got another tax rebate through, my third this year. Inland Revenue are clearly doing a lot of backdating, because they've now sent me - quite literally - tax rebates for every year I've been working (the first one covered several years). So I went to ASDA this morning and bought a toastie maker, and then immediately made a cheese and ham toastie and OH MY HOLY ME, that was so frickin' worth it. Now I just need to get me a new pair of cycling gloves... I've been needing a new pair for some months now, especially since a few weeks ago when Kriss' dog Bailey decided my ex-current pair looked like a tasty chew toy. I'll admit, it was annoying - and rather naughty of her to jump up and take them from the kitchen worktop - but it didn't bother me too much because hey, dogs will be dogs, and I not an hour earlier I'd mentioned how I needed a new pair.
Y'know what really helped? I drew a picture last night, a pretty one. I'm very pleased with my colour blending, since that's a technique I've never been able to get down before now. I drew it because... well, if I could put it into words, I wouldn't need the picture. It was nice, just watching the picture take shape, and then watching the colour build up. Finished result is pretty, and... well, I like it, anyway.
In good news, I've been cycling a LOT over the past two weeks. It's been tiring, yes, and my legs almost gave up on me the other day... but still so totally worth it. The thought of what all this exercise is doing for my already pretty formidable kick is... interesting.
And finally, after the talk I had with Mitch a few weeks ago, I asked him how it was working out last night. He said "Well" but didn't go into specifics... granted, he's been bathing more (he's up to about one a week now, instead of one a month) but as far as I'm aware (I haven't been around a great deal, so I can only go by what I've seen) that's literally it. Granted, he put a little effort in, but... he's still willing to sit on his backside and do nothing for the rest of his life, and if he's unwilling to help himself, I'm not putting any more effort into it.
The annoying thing, the bit that really pisses a lot of people of, is that there are a lot of people out there who are genuinely disabled or too ill to work, and they have to fight tooth and nail with the government to prove it. Mitch, who is perfectly capable of work but just cannot be bothered, got told immediately that everything was fine and he could continue to sit on his arse. Fair enough, he gets panic attacks in new situations... but panic attacks are easily dealt with, I don't believe for a moment they're as bad as he makes out (having witnessed a few), and let's face it... that's not an excuse anyway. It just isn't. Being unable to get out of bed in the morning because your entire skeleton is falling apart and it feels like agony is a legitimate excuse. Getting panicky and needing to go sit and calm down for ten minutes on your first day... is just what fucking happens. I've never started a job without getting a bit nervous and panicky on the first day, and this is me who's generally fazed by pretty much nothing.
I wish he could see how unfair the situation is, when people who are less capable of work than he is are paying the taxes that pay for him to sit on his backside and live the life of laziness. I wish he could understand that he's not one of life's victims, getting shat on from every angle at once... after all, if you choose to sit on the front row of the log flume, it's your own damn fault when you get wet. Don't blame the ride.
Now I'm going to spend the rest of my day being happy and productive. If you don't do the same... well, what the hell is the point? Peaceouty.
But enough ranting. I got another tax rebate through, my third this year. Inland Revenue are clearly doing a lot of backdating, because they've now sent me - quite literally - tax rebates for every year I've been working (the first one covered several years). So I went to ASDA this morning and bought a toastie maker, and then immediately made a cheese and ham toastie and OH MY HOLY ME, that was so frickin' worth it. Now I just need to get me a new pair of cycling gloves... I've been needing a new pair for some months now, especially since a few weeks ago when Kriss' dog Bailey decided my ex-current pair looked like a tasty chew toy. I'll admit, it was annoying - and rather naughty of her to jump up and take them from the kitchen worktop - but it didn't bother me too much because hey, dogs will be dogs, and I not an hour earlier I'd mentioned how I needed a new pair.
Y'know what really helped? I drew a picture last night, a pretty one. I'm very pleased with my colour blending, since that's a technique I've never been able to get down before now. I drew it because... well, if I could put it into words, I wouldn't need the picture. It was nice, just watching the picture take shape, and then watching the colour build up. Finished result is pretty, and... well, I like it, anyway.
In good news, I've been cycling a LOT over the past two weeks. It's been tiring, yes, and my legs almost gave up on me the other day... but still so totally worth it. The thought of what all this exercise is doing for my already pretty formidable kick is... interesting.
And finally, after the talk I had with Mitch a few weeks ago, I asked him how it was working out last night. He said "Well" but didn't go into specifics... granted, he's been bathing more (he's up to about one a week now, instead of one a month) but as far as I'm aware (I haven't been around a great deal, so I can only go by what I've seen) that's literally it. Granted, he put a little effort in, but... he's still willing to sit on his backside and do nothing for the rest of his life, and if he's unwilling to help himself, I'm not putting any more effort into it.
The annoying thing, the bit that really pisses a lot of people of, is that there are a lot of people out there who are genuinely disabled or too ill to work, and they have to fight tooth and nail with the government to prove it. Mitch, who is perfectly capable of work but just cannot be bothered, got told immediately that everything was fine and he could continue to sit on his arse. Fair enough, he gets panic attacks in new situations... but panic attacks are easily dealt with, I don't believe for a moment they're as bad as he makes out (having witnessed a few), and let's face it... that's not an excuse anyway. It just isn't. Being unable to get out of bed in the morning because your entire skeleton is falling apart and it feels like agony is a legitimate excuse. Getting panicky and needing to go sit and calm down for ten minutes on your first day... is just what fucking happens. I've never started a job without getting a bit nervous and panicky on the first day, and this is me who's generally fazed by pretty much nothing.
I wish he could see how unfair the situation is, when people who are less capable of work than he is are paying the taxes that pay for him to sit on his backside and live the life of laziness. I wish he could understand that he's not one of life's victims, getting shat on from every angle at once... after all, if you choose to sit on the front row of the log flume, it's your own damn fault when you get wet. Don't blame the ride.
Now I'm going to spend the rest of my day being happy and productive. If you don't do the same... well, what the hell is the point? Peaceouty.