I’ve just finished a swimming session and I am now languishing in the David Lloyd clubhouse with a coconut latte and a couple of hard-boiled eggs. I know it is expensive and rather decadent but the thought of going to the local municipal pool filled me with dread (maybe dread is too strong) but the idea of being surrounded by the great unclean of North Birmingham didn’t exactly fill me with delight. In addition, I am child-averse and swimming pools attract a lot of little people squealing and making too many waves. I am not a particularly strong swimmer and not having to fight too hard, or dodge too many bairns, to complete a length has been a blessing. After two months I’m happy to say it is getting easier; I now feel more confident in the water. I no longer swim desperate to reach the other end terrified to stop in case I drown. I usually walk 10-12 lengths (forwards, backwards and sideways) followed by swimming for 10 lengths. I had introduced a bit of treadmill walking but this week I’ve been struggling with my legs and feet a little. Somehow in the water it is so easy, on dry land I feel every ounce of my lipoedemic (if that’s a word) flesh.
Winter is a really hard time for me; who am I kidding every day is a hard time. I am inherently lazy, or is it just the lipoedema?? This is always the dilemma. I struggle because of the lipoedema and find it easy to do nothing because the lipoedema is such a struggle. My legs are huge and heavy. The support stockings (which are utterly unsexy) help me walk, without them I would struggle more. Although it is my upper arms which are more of a worry for me. They too are huge and heavy. I find repetitive tasks, like pegging up the washing, washing the dishes and cooking long complicated recipes, tiring. If only you could get stockings for your arms!! I’m hoping the swimming will help strengthen my muscles and make moving easier over time. In the meantime, I need to keep plugging away making small improvements every day!!
Hubby was out last night, while I went to the pictures with Lesley (Doctor Sleep), with his old work colleagues from Severn Trent, despite my warnings, he didn’t get home ’til 2:30am. I pretended to be asleep to spare his blushes of being a sad, old drunk but, to be honest, I was a little pissed off because he was out so late. I’m not complaining about his going out or his drinking, I just wish he didn’t stay out so late or drink so much, as this tends to have a knock-on effect to our weekend and me specifically. Anyway this morning instead of hanging around the house waiting for him to get up I decided to go out for breakfast. I had planned to go to EAT in the Bullring but whilst driving there I changed my mind because as it is the run up to Christmas I thought he car park would be busy; especially when I’m ready to go home and I didn’t fancy being stuck in a traffic jam. Therefore, I drove round to my favourite ‘disabled’ spot on Bennett’s Hill only to be confronted by ‘no parking bollards’. ‘Bollock’s to Bollards’. I then decided to stick to my first idea and head for the Bullring however, on the way there I changed my mind once again and headed for Costa at One Stop.
It is while at Costa, One Stop that I am writing this. I still feel a little nervous using it whilst in public; stupidly I am scared if some ne’er do well takes a liking to it and knowing I’m physically weak will just grab it off me, or worse, hijack me on the way back to the car. I feel really bad having these thoughts; in all my life I’ve never had any problems (touching wood) and I honestly don’t think I’m likely to. The problem is its hard to ignore the news headlines constantly reminding you of horrible things happening to ordinarly people, every day. I find myself looking around the cafe trying to figure out who, if at all anyone, would be my nemesis. Thankfully, most look ordinary; and older couple, a couple of youngish dads with their small children, another middle-aged woman who looks to be waiting for a friend/lover. Everyone looks incredibly ordinary, then again what does a ne’er do well look like?
This is a question I ask myself quite often and there is no easy answer. Depending on what you read, who you speak to or what TV programmes you watch if can change. In Britain, invariably, young Black men are demonised, followed by foreigners of any type and the archetypal white british male coming in last. Unfortunately, nowadays it doesn’t matter whether they are Black, Asian, White or other I feel ill at ease with most young people. They have a confidence and cock-suredness that my generation, and those before me, seem to lack. Before, you jump down my throat for over-generalising…fuck off… that’s what I do and I’m not going to apologise for it. I believe before you can truly understand a problem/subject etc. it is necessary to start somewhere and over-generalising is my way of framing the question.
…since I last contributed to this blog. A lot has changed but also a lot has stayed the same. The biggest change is I feel mentally more stable; a little happier and generally feeling a lot better. I’m not sure if this is due to my passing through the menopause, attending the gym for the past two months, to swim, or something else. I no longer seem to experience the dark, deep depressions and, although my husband still bugs the hell out of me, I no longer feel like killing him on an hourly basis. This in part is due to changes he has made to his life; he still suffers with anxiety and depression but seems to be dealing with it in a more proactive way. Therefore, I no longer feel like his carer and I now have more time to take better care of myself; like signing up to the gym. I think sometimes you have to reach the bottom of a deep, dark hole before you start coming out!!