Where D'Ya Go, Rho? Ep2 Testing Testing 1-2-1-2

Where D’ya Go Rho? Ep2
Feedback- Testing.Testing. 1-2-1-2

Well I wasn’t expecting that?

What a lot of feedback you get when you lay it out on the line and explain that you are lost?
Almost a second after pressing send to a cry for help, I found out that I am not alone and have allies all around.

My adult best pal (not people I’ve known since school who are my besties and my tribe), Lisa said “I need a hand with a stretch class. If you're free Monday/Thursday mornings (unfortunately, only option is morning you’d be doing me a favour and doing something creative.” Firstly she’s not a gym bunny and the stretch class would not have me pulling a muscle, she runs a sewing school in Paisley, The Auld Atelier and knows by suggesting a practical solution I am likely to respond. She knows me well and knows mornings are not my vibe but the call for help is a instant trigger for me to haul my carcass for a pal in need. Clever Lisa- that law degree, teaching post grad and 1st in sewing too has definitely not gone to waste. Made a plan to go give her a hand. She is a relatively new business and so busy teaching people she often needs extra hands to cope. Going to test out her class for stretchy fabrics before she unleashes it on a paying public lets her gauge what a novice will need in the way of hands help and set the pacing at the right level. Well that’s a morning out of the house sorted for a start.

Some sent hugs, some sent compliments, some sent lunch invitations while some gave sage advice or shared similar experiences.

“It comes from within you, you need to believe in you, not external factors”.
If only it were that simple. My confidence has not just dipped but pissed off entirely. The thoughts in my head are like the worst Simon Cowell comebacks from a failed X Factor audition. When the factors are internal or external when the narrative in your head sounds sadder than a country and western song it’s hard to get going of a morning and face things when you feel like Billy Connolly’s worst cripple in Nashville. At the moment I don’t know where Me is. Me is MIA. I’m not sure I really know who Me is.

“Hey lady, you lady, cursing at your life. You’re a discontented mother. And a regimented wife…” The random firing of synapses in my head has pressed play on the random jukebox in my head and has stopped on that 1970’s Charlene song- I’ve Never Been To Me. A song that has confused me for most of life as to what the hell Charlene was on about. A tune that says she’s seen things a women ain’t supposed to see and has done subtle whoring that cost too much to be free. WTF Charlene- get help, Hen. Well, if how I feel is as confusing as that song then I hope I find me before I start writing cack songs like that.
My only saving grace is that She’s been to paradise but she’s never been to me. Well I’m a Gers fan so I only have to set foot in “paradise” on Old Firm away games and if that’s paradise then Charlene can keep it. We are The People and that is one element of me that won’t be changing anytime soon.
As a kid brought up on Country and Western music, my jukebox has now changed it’s tune and I now have Don Williams- I Believe in You playing on a loop. I don’t believe in superstars, organic food and foreign cars… I’m not diagnosed but ADHD anyone?

“...before you diagnose yourself with depression ensure your not surrounded by arseholes.” (sic.)
Funnily enough I have colon cleansed some arseholes out of my circle (there is no way to make this sound good) and the lack of drama has been very soothing for my soul with less shit to get involved in, less bullshit spoken and I give less of a shit about their shit for sure. This invisibility feeling is definitely different from just a proctological overload. I need to get my shit together and when shit does hit the fan just say shit happens and keep going. I want to feel less like dogshit and feel like The Shit. Shit, that was a shitshow was it not?

My best mate almost instantly sent a message saying they had been there and done that. They discovered an NLP counsellor and found themselves again so much so they felt like a teenager. She was cool then and she’s cool now. She gave me a number to call so I will check it out. This is the same bestie who also steered me towards Davina MacCall- normally not a direction I would encourage but instead she got me listening to the audiobook of Menopausing. I definitely believe that the fact my Oestrogen and her hormone friends have pulled an Elvis and left the building is a factor in my loss of my get up and go. It got up and went not long after my final daughter was born. I say final because the process of child carrying was a colossal pain on my already Crunchie-like skeleton.

When you know you’re pregnant before you’ve peed on anything positively, solely from the fact you've started walking like John Wayne and your pelvis is loose enough to make every step feel as though your fanny is about to fall to the floor, then perhaps childbirth is not for you. 2014 was basically a year of trying to stop my youngest from falling out of my uterus early like a keen bungee jumper. Unlike my eldest who has the same bone condition as me, a child who moved in small increments protecting her frame and mine while she was cocooned inside me, this new lodger was treating my womb like an AirBnB. She elbowed and kicked, punched and prodded me on the daily, making room for herself without a care for the fixtures and fittings. She has the physical grace of my husband, so I knew after her stay Daddy's girl was definitely not getting her deposit back.

My specialist advised that another pregnancy was likely to beat me into submission and permanently into my wheelchair so suggested that while she was gonna be in there anyway, she would ask me to consider that I have my tubes cut and tied. While she was in there…while she was in there? While she was in there! While she was hauling the future gymnast out of my womb, she could end my reproductive ability by just tying a knot in it. Motherhood over with a loop, swoop and some bunny ears.

I have to say I was in two minds about it but nearer the end of my gestation, I was unable to move a muscle without a crunching accompaniment and every cough was in danger of puncturing my lung, I decided that two babies was my lot in life. I suppose if she’s in there anyway? Making it sounds as though it’s like picking up a pint of milk on the way home. No biggy. As Beyonce sings, if you like it then you should have put a ring on it. Well if you don’t want any mair you should tie a knot in it.

Mark did a wee joke while he was in the operating theatre, holding our latest arrival as a crack theatrical team went ahead to close my reproductive shutters. I asked if he would get a vasectomy in solidarity and his comeback was “nah, ma next wife might want some weans”.
The silence was golden as a mainly female operating team gave looks that would kill and the guys gave looks of sympathy for a man who didn't gauge the room when surrounded by women with scalpels in hand. Leave the gags to me, Lang. It really is all in the timing.

Anyway, I digress. I think the change is a factor and thanks to my GP I now have some tablets and a patch on arse to fill the void in my womb and the hormonal redundancy since my shop shut for good. Fingers crossed it lifts my mood and perhaps can reduce the ever growing chin hair issue. My hair is falling out of my head and now seems to be growing out my chin instead. No wonder I’m now down in the mouth when I could easily have a sideline as a ZZ Top tribute act if I don’t tweeze on the daily..

My high school English teacher (who I’m mates with, I know I’m a right crawler) said I should get it all down on paper in my own unique style and then gave me more compliments than I’ve had since parent’s night 1993. Yep, teacher’s pet then, teacher’s pet now. Dux prize winner and then Queen of Duff House. Yes, I am proud to be a head Duffer. Brown nosing aside, I have taken up that suggestion and here I am putting it down and out there. Even as a catharsis it’s worthwhile as a diary just for me but I hope that it becomes something greater as I hope others interact with my journey out of the darkness.

Join me on this search for my self and let’s see where it takes us. Strap in as I reckon it will be a bumpy ride.