Gold medals aren’t really made of gold. They’re made of sweat, determination and a hard to find alloy called guts” – Dan Gable.
And rightly so. During the past twenty years I have been up and down like a yo yo. One minute I’m this young woman with the intention of satisfying her daily goals, the next minute I’m an angry anxious person who doesn’t know her arse to her elbow and is getting stressed over the simplest of things. I am trying slowly but surely to be the woman in between.
Determination is the key word in the sentence I’ve just written. Determination is what keeps us going when the medication is making us feel nauseous and the headaches won’t stop.
Determination is what allows us to get through the day and allows us to leave the house and achieve the mini goals we mark for ourselves during the course of the day. Epilepsy will always be a part of us whether that it be a seizure you were uncomfortable watching, you have a relative with the condition or whether it be you living with it on a regular basis this condition can have an adverse effect on your life if you let it.
My Epilepsy has been on my mind these past few days and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because we are approaching the seven year mark (my neurologist advised my parents that every seven years your body/brain activity changes) and I’m a tad worried that the seizures will return. I know that I will be optimistic this time around should they ever return however it has had me on edge this week.
Today has been a pleasure and a nightmare all rolled into one. The day started off splendidly with my husband and I going to see the new Wizard of Oz film at the cinema before driving round to our mothers’ homes armed with gifts for the greatest women in our lives.
Our mothers have showed both my husband and I the way situations ought to be handled that is with grace, intellect and common sense. I have said this a million times but without my mam I’d be lost. She has literally seen it all. She is probably my best friend and knows me inside out. My mother and I are fortunate that we have similar tastes and trust one another 100%. When I’m older if I grow up to be half the woman she is then I would be proud as she is without doubt my biggest fan. I could still strangle her at times though. Haha!
Anyhow enough of the soppy stuff.
The day was going well. The film was marvellous, James Franco was superb as the good old wizard and I was drooling at the screen before being rudely interrupted by my husband passing over a bottle of water and a couple of chocolate buttons. The day was going great. Here I sat in the cinema drifting into the land of Oz with James Franco on my arm. I was relaxed and excited at the thought of seeing a new film before going over to visit our parents and showing our appreciation to them.
Shortly after I returned home I got myself in a complete and utter tiz (mood). The house was a mess, food needed preparing for work tomorrow, exercise needed to be completed and the Sunday dinner (along with mash and Yorkshire puddings- only had two, the rest was healthy) needed cooking.
I felt like there wasn’t enough hours in the day and I started to become irate and frustrated with myself. My poor husband got it in the neck bless him and I thought I was going to start convulsing straight away. Words were exchanged between him and myself and the atmosphere was frosty. I think it became frostier when he used the exact words:
“You’re not organised, you have allowed yourself to get this way so you best snap it off and accept that you are at fault”
Not organised? Was I hearing this correctly? Yes I was in the wrong for shouting however not organised?
The profanities coming out of my mouth were scandalous and I was ready for a full blown argument. He was right to a degree however I didn’t want to show face. I accepted defeat and walked off with him racing behind me apologising and trying to retract his comment.
I had accumulated all my chores into one big chore without even thinking about it and I was like a woman possessed. So much for a relaxed sunday. Words cannot express my demeanour for that hour. Thank goodness for twitter pals to distract me otherwise I would have probably burst into tears for no apparent reason. I could feel myself becoming overwhelmed and had to sit down. I practised all my usual breathing techniques along with a few new ones however nothing was going to shake me.
I ran upstairs, drank two large glasses of water and took a long hard look at myself in the mirror. What the hell was I worrying about? Why was I adding up my chores, was it really necessary? There’s only so much a woman can do, I mean bloody hell I wasn’t superwoman so what was I fretting over? Come on Saz get a grip. Just make the meal and the rest can be completed later. So I put the glass down, went back downstairs and resumed as normal.
It was like one half of my brain knew I had to remain calm and take one step at a time however the other half was running full speed ahead. I couldn’t stop wittering on and I was seeing red. What for exactly, because the meal wouldn’t be made on time?
The main question I asked myself was why is my initial thought that I’m going to become unwell as soon as I become stressed out? Do any of you do that or is it just me? How can I prevent this from happening again? I try to be as organised as I can to alleviate any stress however still appear to end up in deep water.
How come we never take the advice we give to others? I’m sitting happily writing this blog to your guys on a daily basis however cannot snap myself out of this anxiety. How crazy is that? Nevermind.
My husband and I sat down and discussed this matter like adults. We both apologised and accepted that our words were uncalled for. We created a plan amongst ourselves to realise what’s more important that being our relationship. Couple’s go through ups and downs and that’s perfectly normal however to go on a rollercoaster about the same old stuff starts to get boring after a while. Life’s to short to sit there crying over trivial matters.
Once we made up (over a cup of coffee and a low fat biscuit bar) I realised that I needed to strip myself bare and go back to where I was 2 years ago after seeing Bob. I need to appreciate what’s right in front of me and accept that I’m not superwoman. I’m just Saz.