Tuesday, 5 May 2015

Oh it's Banked.

Oh the last 4 days have been truly wonderful. The weather has been beautiful. My heart has been filled with joy.


The past week had been terrible. I was on lockdown and unable to leave the hospital during the day. Only Bean could bust me out in the evening. Oh those hours dragged with only the occasional punctuation of ceramic fun. Sure, I'm useless at it but I do find it relaxing and I don't particularly care that I'm rubbish. (Which is a big step for me!)

Indeed there is a certain zen like quality I've discovered, akin to a moment where you cannot be disturbed and in that moment you are focussing on something outside yourself. The voices calm down and Magic FM pervades. Indeed it was the ceramic-like silence I yearned for each day as the ward inexorably moved to a crescendo with the staff seemingly unable (or not wanting) to control the most vocal of patients. My head, felt as if it were in a vice and I found myself taking paracetamol not as a way to die, but as a way to live. 

So as Friday arrived I sat on my hospital bed waiting to be seen in ward round. Yet it wasn't until 6 pm I was seen. (Top tip psych team, perhaps start your ward round at 9am like alllll the other doctors) After waiting and waiting. I took to standing in the corridor, alternating between making one of the old ladies tea and walking to the smoking cage (not actually on fire) to practise my zen breathing whilst feeling like Hannibal Lecter. 

When my time finally came and made my impassioned plea. Yes I lied to get out of hospital just a week ago but not even in my darkest hour would I try to kill myself on the weekend of my husband's birthday that would be pretty poor form. I wanted to support my husband, for a change. I wanted my husband to enjoy his weekend. I wanted my husband to have a drink on his birthday. I wanted to have sex with him and I wanted to sleep in my own bed. I wanted to be outside. I wanted to feel the sun on my skin. I wanted to wear nice clothes. I wanted to cuddle my foster family. I wanted to bake and cook lovely things for his party. I wanted to see my wonderful brothers. I wanted to see my pregnant friends (one delivered this morning squeeeee!). I wanted to raise a glass (and take but a sip) of champagne to my two friends who recently got engaged. I wanted to feel as if I had a life. I wanted to feel normal.

I know, I wanted a lot. I know they see me as a flight risk. I understand why it is difficult for them to trust me. So I was incredibly happy when after much discussion I was allowed home. Allowed home to be a wife to my husband. I was allowed to feel normal. It was a magical feeling.



So Saturday arrived and I had slept in my own bed and my head was filled with happiness and not pain. The magical feeling continued. We somewhat broke protocol as Bean allowed me to go out on my own. With his stern warning that it would not be cool to kill myself ringing in my ears, I inhaled freedom. I was so glad he chose to trust me because it meant I could attend the brush calligraphy with Quill London with the amazing tutors Emma Block and Teri Muncey of The Lovely Drawer.




The sun was shining, I felt happy and perhaps a little pretty. I was a ridiculous cliché. I felt as if I was walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale. I danced all the way home. I danced home for husband cuddles and an amazing dinner. You see, last year the husband made a BBQ smoker which is amazing! A 45 gallon drum of joy. The meat is slowly cooked but also infused with a delicious smokiness. Oh it is amazing. If you can get an invite to eat his amazing meat I suggest you take him up on it. My favourite is roast chicken but he's also dabbled in ribs, brisket and pulled pork. So for his first of the season he went with chicken. Oh lordy, it's perfection. 

After filling myself to the brim on amazing chicken and losing the wishbone contest I embarked upon creating his birthday cake. 3 hours later, it was 1am and I wanted to cry. I'd finished creating a monster. A monster 6 layer cake with an attempt at rosette icing. I only realised at 11pm that the icing nozzle I needed wasn't in my box of tricks. Ah well. However, I am covered in purple. The purple being swiss meringue buttercream. I retired to bed, hoping that I didn't turn our sheets purple (after a rather lame attempt to de-purple) and that the cake will be vaguely edible the next day.

After another blissful night's sleep it was time to make the house ready for a Bean Party. The husband dealt with all the meat. Oh so much meat. The smoker was full. Oh the joy! Balloons were blown up and tied out side and the sun kindly came out as the first guests arrived at 4pm and stayed in the air until wind told us to hide inside.



I was so happy to see my big boy's face when he blew out his candles and that we got to toast to two of our newly engaged friends. The cake was welcomed by all and looked pretty pimp on a plate! It was a day full of laughter and love and meat and bourbon and trifle and cake. What more could you want? We went to bed exhausted but seriously happy campers.


(Oh and if you want your friends to throwdown I suggest you make salted caramel rice krispie treats. Seriously, it was a good job I held some back. Bitches and man bitches love that shit. They are crazy addictive! I'm a bit scared to share the recipe! I might once the wounds have healed.)




Monday was our day of rest. We snuggled with the kittens and barely moved. It was truly wonderful.

And now we arrive at Tuesday. Last night I declared on instagram* that I had felt it was a turning point moment. (See I can't stop with the clichés). I hadn't felt so happy, so content, so smiley for so very long. I truly hope this is the start of a new journey. I was meant to return to hospital today but I stayed away and said I would return after voting on Thursday evening. I just couldn't face entering the maelstrom after such a relaxing weekend. 

I guess I need to take that first step. It's incredibly scary and the voices are still loud but love can conquer all right. I often think about the words, "if loved could have saved you, you would have lived forever." Perhaps love could save me? Perhaps? Perhaps? Perhaps?


*come along and follow my rather imperfect life albeit with all the colour already - @annaandthering

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