(no subject)
Wow, I haven't posted in a long time. First there was exams and finals-term crazy; and then the longer I go before actually sitting down and writing the stuff in my head, the more there is that I totally need to tell and the more News I find it my duty to impart. So, nothing gets written because there is too much to write. But I am going to try and Interact More Dammit, (I love it when I do; I don't know why I find it so hard to make the first step...)
I'm back home now, in Recovery Mode from Oxford and trying to figure out where I'm at. My plan is to tae driving lessons and do some kind of volunteering this summer before going to live in Oxford in September and find some kind of work there. Not very exact planning, but hopefully workable. The only awkward thing to plan around is that I'm having another operation on my oesophagus in October - more thoughts to come on that, but the gust is that things still aren't great for me, eating-wise, but the only specialist in the Northwest is away from the end of May to the end of September, so unless I'd come home literally the day after my exams and been operated on the following Monday, he couldn't do anything any earlier. I think he (the specialist) is Worried for me in that respect; I infer that most of his cases get picked up very early on and get sorted out definitivly, so he's not used to conceptualising achalasia as a livable, longterm condition. He worries about me coping over the summer - but fuck it, I've been coping with this for years now, it's not like having to live with it is anything new.
I had a conversation with Mum yesterday about Things Which Make Me Unhappy (Many) with particular focus on Things I Don't Like To Admit To But Should (Various, mostly food and drink related anxieties), which was good to get in the open, but hard - it's exhausting talking about feelings you don't think you should have, and I hate adding to my parents stress by being unhappy; they've got quite enough on there plates with my inconvenient feelings. (Though I can see, objectivly, that that is a stupid way to think about it, I hate to burden them.)
Being back is weird - it's going to take some getting used to living with C without having my degree course hanging over me and the perpetual distraction of all the work I'm not doing. I'm used to holidays following a set pattern, and now I'll have to forge a new - hopefully more open - mode of communication. It's hard. I'm not good at taking Herself on her own terms. I can barely undersand her sense of humour, nor she mine; we understand the world in very different ways and I can't unbend myself enough to reach out. I find myself becoming horribly pious and humourless and hypocritical with her, as though embodying The Good Daughter would be any help at all!
I meant for this to be a post to communicate my Thoughts on Dollhouse to alll four interested parties, and most particu;larly littlered2 who has been waiting to here them most patiently, with a short paragraph of here-I-am-now as preface. But this has gone on long enough that I will split the post and cry mercy for your f'lists. I need to sleep now...
I'm back home now, in Recovery Mode from Oxford and trying to figure out where I'm at. My plan is to tae driving lessons and do some kind of volunteering this summer before going to live in Oxford in September and find some kind of work there. Not very exact planning, but hopefully workable. The only awkward thing to plan around is that I'm having another operation on my oesophagus in October - more thoughts to come on that, but the gust is that things still aren't great for me, eating-wise, but the only specialist in the Northwest is away from the end of May to the end of September, so unless I'd come home literally the day after my exams and been operated on the following Monday, he couldn't do anything any earlier. I think he (the specialist) is Worried for me in that respect; I infer that most of his cases get picked up very early on and get sorted out definitivly, so he's not used to conceptualising achalasia as a livable, longterm condition. He worries about me coping over the summer - but fuck it, I've been coping with this for years now, it's not like having to live with it is anything new.
I had a conversation with Mum yesterday about Things Which Make Me Unhappy (Many) with particular focus on Things I Don't Like To Admit To But Should (Various, mostly food and drink related anxieties), which was good to get in the open, but hard - it's exhausting talking about feelings you don't think you should have, and I hate adding to my parents stress by being unhappy; they've got quite enough on there plates with my inconvenient feelings. (Though I can see, objectivly, that that is a stupid way to think about it, I hate to burden them.)
Being back is weird - it's going to take some getting used to living with C without having my degree course hanging over me and the perpetual distraction of all the work I'm not doing. I'm used to holidays following a set pattern, and now I'll have to forge a new - hopefully more open - mode of communication. It's hard. I'm not good at taking Herself on her own terms. I can barely undersand her sense of humour, nor she mine; we understand the world in very different ways and I can't unbend myself enough to reach out. I find myself becoming horribly pious and humourless and hypocritical with her, as though embodying The Good Daughter would be any help at all!
I meant for this to be a post to communicate my Thoughts on Dollhouse to alll four interested parties, and most particu;larly littlered2 who has been waiting to here them most patiently, with a short paragraph of here-I-am-now as preface. But this has gone on long enough that I will split the post and cry mercy for your f'lists. I need to sleep now...