The Big C

I lost a friend today to cancer ~ a friend with whom contact had become sporadic since I moved away, but a friend none the less, our daughters were mates and we wasted many an hour at childrens parties sniggering and gossiping. She and I weren't part of the 
establishment, the Mummy Mafia, and so a lot of our sniggering was done about the absurdities of that clique.

I have done a lot of soul baring on this Blog ~ such a lot, in fact that I recently got an award for it ~ but this has made me pause for thought. There are now 3 kids and their Dad flung into the abyss of pain and loss that follows such a death, and beyond the usual condolences and visits there is nothing I, or anyone else, can do to help stop their pain.  And that, to coin a phrase, pains me.. She was such a free spirit, a one off, that none of the conventional options seem at all appropriate.

So I think I shall go up to the local Reservoir and throw some petals to the wind ~ and watch as they dance in the breeze and flutter away, and while they do that I shall mentally raise a glass to her amazing spirit, which is now free to dance and play with no more suffering.

Good Night my friend, sleep easy xx

Je ne regrette rien ~ And other lies..

You know what they say about getting complacent?? Yes, it's damned dangerous ~ you relax and think that maybe, this time, it really WILL be ok. Cue cynical laughter please.

For those of you who know me, you will know that I have struggled on and off for years with the dark demon of depression and that I am also very good at hiding it ~ so good that last time I got as far as suicidal before anyone found out.

I don't know if it is a common theme but I am also very very bad at asking for help, it's a mixture of pride, stupidity and ADHD "Head in the Sand" mentality. A pretty dodgy combination when life is OK, and a potentially lethal one for a single Mother with no support. I have some amazing friends and they have been there for me in so many ways but still the little voices in my head stop me coming clean and saying "Help me please" because, as the little voices tell me, if I stop being good old Nicki then nobody will like me enough to stick around and help. Those little voices are terrible companions.

So, since I last wrote I have changed jobs ~ not getting paid month after month gets old pretty quickly ~ and have made an attempt to start dealing with my debts and the general chaos that infests my life. I also dropped my guard and allowed myself to believe that just maybe life would improve.

Can we spot the Schoolgirl error? The thing that I, as an ADHD sufferer, was unable to work out? The basic fact is that when the immediate horror is lifted my brain becomes caught up in the next thing and I lose sight of things that still require my attention ~ and funnily enough that doesn't mean the problem goes away, it means it comes back bigger and better after a time.

The current horrors ~ a letter from the Council telling me they have applied to a Magistrate for me to be sent to Prison for unpaid Council Tax, a Final Demand from the bank regarding my overdraft and several other unpaid bills that are rearing their heads. Ironically now I am being paid properly I am WORSE off than I was, because everyone can get to me for money now, and Oh Boy, are they doing so..

I have found out I can apply for something called a Debt Relief Order ~ effectively going bankrupt, but cheaper ~ and I WANT to do it, no, I NEED to do it, but in order to achieve this I need to organise the paperwork, find out exactly who I owe and how much, get in to see the Citizens Advice Bureau (no mean feat in Rochdale, no appointments means you start to queue outside from 8am for 10am opening and the hope you are in the first 3 or 4 people as they are the only ones who get seen).

Now, I know you are all saying "Well crack on and do it then" ~ and you're all right, I should do ~ but the pernicious nature of ADHD is such that I have totally frozen and cannot deal with any of it. Add in the fact that I know I am plummeting back down into the abyss of depression (Lord knows why!!) and maybe you can start to understand.

So, I continue to make jokes about "Oh this time next week I'll be in Prison" whilst not being completely sure that it wont actually be the case. I convince the kids it's fun to buy a weeks food, including packed lunches, for under £20 and that no, we really DON'T need the heating on (nothing to do with having no money to put on the Gas Card of course).

When I go out, I rely on the kindness and generosity of my friends; buying a bottle of wine is a distant memory and I have even stopped smoking (apart from the very odd slip up). I am even in the worst of positions that I owe dear friends money.. and that, above all, kills me.

So, I am going to do something I genuinely cannot do in "real life" ~ I am asking for help. Not "good advice" or "a shoulder to cry on" but honest to God HELP. The text of a letter I can send to the bank, information of how to deal with the Council, someone prepared to help by acting as my Mediator.

I am scared, really I am, and ashamed, I don't enjoy parading my inadequacies in public as a general rule. I know that this blog post will give certain people more ammunition but I can't worry about that now, my immediate problem is more important.

Please don't judge me for my failings, judge me on my sincere desire to sort this out and move forward. And always remember the saying "There, but for the grace of God.."

That Old Adoption Malarky..

Harking back, as you do, to my Blog about Adoption I thought someone might care for an update.. No?? Well you're getting it anyway..


Showing my true ADHD colours, I downloaded the form for requesting information, filled it in, posted it and THEN thought "Oh Bugger, I'm not sure I wanted to have done that". So I then spent a couple of weeks switching between hoping my request had got lost in the post and wondering why I had received no reply ~ there really is no pleasing me sometimes!


Anyway, I came home today to find a letter for me from the General Register Office. What to do? Apparently the answer is hop up and down as though in dire need of the toilet and..er.. SNIFF the envelope a few times.. And THEN I opened it.


It is a simple letter ~ Apparently my birth details have been forwarded to my local Social Services and will be available for me to see, once I have had "counselling" (For God's Sake). So, that's that really.. All I have to do is make the appointment and forty mumble years of not knowing will be over.


Well, therein lies the rub.. I'm STILL not sure I want to know ~ but knowing the records are accessible is as maddening as seeing the perfect pair of shoes for sale when you just happen to have the food shopping money in your wallet..


The sensible me (yes there IS actually) says there is no harm in waiting a little longer, being completely sure before I make the call, but the emotional side wants to run down to the office tomorrow and DEMAND they show them to me instantly.. and neither side has the upper hand as yet.


So if anyone else has any words of wisdom, please PLEASE feel free to share ~ I am in a positive lather of indecision here and a word or two of wisdom would be much appreciated.

We All Need A Guardian Angel

I know you're all gagging to know what drama has befallen me this week ~ I mean it's not as though it's going to have been quiet and uneventful is it? When trying to describe the last few years the only words that spring to mind are "Car Crash TV".. So we'll crack swiftly on shall we?


So.. I've lost my job for being too posh (understandable really) and am back to the world of no money and fear of the unknown. If I am honest, the job thing did knock me badly ~ Having struggled out from the abyss of suicidal depression, I felt myself sliding backwards and the old insecurities rearing their ugly heads. And then the killer blow ~ an eviction notice from my Landlord, thereby realising the ultimate fear ~ the inability to protect my kids and keep them safe.


For months now I have been trying to claim Housing Benefit ~ something I have dreaded as it seemed to me to be the sign of ultimate failure, but needs must at certain times of life. Anyway, it would appear that people like me don't get things like that, and many months and several different applications later I was so far behind with my rent that I blush to admit it. Every time I applied I was asked for everything from bank statements (embarrassing, all those minus signs) to Completion Statements for the house I sold over 2 years ago and everything in between. Every time I provided those details I was asked how I managed to survive on no benefits and my standard answer was "very badly" ~ which becomes more and more accurate every time I get asked. However the Great Grey Monolith that is the Housing Department round here decided that I obviously have money stashed away somewhere and kept turning my down ~ month after month. Earlier this year I was reduced to pawning my jewellery in order to make some sort of dent in the arrears and the next step would be selling my car - unfortunately it's still dead as I can't afford to get a new starter motor for it, which means I can't sell it ~ another thing on the list of things that I can't afford.


Anyway, I buckled again and saw the darkness gathering ~ ironically I need more antidepressants but the lack of car means I can't go and get a repeat prescription ~ and just could not see how to get out of this situation. I felt bitter that I had managed, somehow, for over 4 years and yet was ultimately doomed to fail at this stage. I have no family and my friends list is sadly lacking in millionaires so there was no-one to ask.


Guardian Angels come in many forms, and mine is 5" nothing and called Tina. She has felt bad because she didn't recognise the signs of my last breakdown (nothing to do with the fact I am so good at hiding things) and has appointed herself as the person to help me get back on my feet. And so, this week she and I have been to the Citizens Advice Bureau, the Job Centre, the Housing Office, the Job Centre (again) and anywhere else I needed to go. She has also stood up to my Landlord and explained that bullying me wont help as "If I end up topping myself he still wont get his rent" ~ now THAT was magnificent to watch!


So we reach the end of the week.. we have walked maybe 40 miles this week, and it's a uphill slog back home after crying at the Housing Office I can tell you! I am told I qualify for a "Good Cause" backdate of my rent and I have finally been awarded Job Seekers Allowance. I still have no car and some serious rent arrears, and the dark clouds are still hovering, but I have my kids and my dog and my Guardian Angel. In my life so many people have let me down, or not been what they said, that I have almost forgotten how to trust anyone ~ and so to have a tiny little Guardian Angel with a Heart as big as the world is amazing ~ despite everything I can't help but think how lucky I am.

Where's that Fat Lady 'cos I can hear her singing

Now, let's have a moment to reflect on life's ironies shall we? My last blog was all about my new job and how excited I was for the future ~ forgive me while I laugh at my unbridled optimism, I really should have known better..


So I went and started my new job ~ Some of the reasons for me being employed were that I am well spoken (or posh.. ), good with clients and have experience of the Estate Agency business. All good, solid reasons for being taken on to deal with lettings and also sharpen up their customer service and point out any faults in the existing system. Still with me.. let's carry on...


I went in, full of the joys of spring and sheer unadulterated fear, ready to set the world to rights. It's been a while since I worked in the business so I fully expected to have to relearn some stuff, but dealing with customers never changes and neither does a basic level of service with regard to returning calls and being on time for appointments. I wasn't thrilled to see that the latter two were sadly lacking, and bearing in mind that Estate Agents have a reputation marginally bettered by Pond Life normally, I could see that this was a problem. So when I was asked after a couple of days I told him what I had seen. My Goodness but he was delighted.. Glad I'd picked up on these two vital matters and wanted me to bring them up at the morning meeting..


For anyone who has sat through an American block buster the plot will be shockingly clear... I shot myself in the foot it seems. I gave him the immediate hints he needed and he rewarded me by telling me that really I am too well spoken and too nice to customers and this doesn't work within his business.. Oh and Thanks for the help, don't let the door bang you on the arse on the way out..


All this took place on Friday against a background of (this is COMPLETELY true) a man armed with a machete running into the flat above the Post Office next door, being pursued by Police armed with Tazers... Hold on.. maybe he's right, maybe I AM to posh for this town after all...


So we're back to Square One.. Once again I have no job, and that means no money, and that means threats of losing my home and not being able to provide for my children. But I have managed with no financial help for 4 years and I shall, somehow, continue to manage. I wont crack under the weight of the fear that surrounds me constantly, and I wont let my children down. The new Nicki has taken a tremendous battering, but I shall carry on and try to remain hopeful. Mind you, if anyone does have about 3 grand down the back of the sofa which they can lend to me with the promise of it being returned one day.. feel free to inbox me!

Re-embracing the Demon Drink..

I think I have mentioned, quite possibly more than once, that a big part of my getting better was to stop drinking. In the past, alcohol has played a major part in my life and at times it's been too major for my own good. In my early twenties I gave up for a year and a half out of necessity ~ I was far too close to having a serious problem if I am honest. You know that person who's quite funny, very funny, and then a royal pain in the arse when they're drinking?? Yep, that was me.. Some may say that wasn't down to alcohol but I beg to differ. I needed that lovely warm glow to allow me to be the person people wanted to see.. I just didn't know when to stop. Anyway, glossing over the, um, finer details, suffice to say that abstention was the only option at the time.

So, fast forwarding more years than I care to admit, I was proud of the fact that I had got through some of the worst times in my life without falling back into a bottle.. Bereavement, marriage break ups, all of those without that reassuring warmth and lovely blurring of the edges that drink gave me. Sure I could drink socially, and the odd glass at home of an evening wasn't a problem; the trouble is that complacency is a dangerous thing and drinking crept up on me and my last serious relationship involved a vast amount of alcohol ~ the alcohol lasted longer than the relationship and getting drunk became quite normal.. Not hideously falling over drunk, just a happy blurring that I convinced myself helped me sleep at night.. well, if I could have slept of course!

Anyway earlier this year I realised that I needed to stop again and so I did.. Just like that and it wasn't hard.. in fact it was very easy. I didn't miss drinking, I didn't miss the hangovers and mostly I didn't miss the disappointment in my kids' faces. Granted my consumption of "Pointless Coke" (that's caffeine free Diet Coke) went through the roof, and my friends were staggered to find out I really do like Pepeprmint and Jasmine Teas, but that's no bad thing.

So now, I have cautiously re-introduced alcohol into my life. I currently have 2.6% strength French Lager (known as Rat's Wee) in my fridge and I enjoy drinking a cold beer on a warm evening but funnily enough one or two is more than enough.. I have no desire to reach the warm fuzzy place that had become so normal in my life. For anyone who knows the film "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" you'll know that Paul Newman's character talks about drinking until he hears a click in his head, and that click mean peace.. well, I've learnt that the click doesn't bring peace it brings a blurring of the edges that comes roaring back into sharp focus the next morning.

I'm not saying I'll never get drunk again, but I am saying that I can now enjoy it in moderation ~ it is no longer a means to an end it is simply one of life's small pleasures to be enjoyed in the same way as everything else.. within reason.