depression

I seem to have hit a low point.  And what a low point it is turning out.

I’m not sure what’s wrong.  I’m not sure if I could even hazard a guess.  I don’t think I would have any idea where to start; or I do know where to start, just I don’t know if that, or these issues, are the major contributing factor of if they’re merely a coincidental side or lesser issue.  I just don’t know.

Over the last couple of weeks it’s been something that’s been constantly there.  I thought that it had something to do with needing some alone time – before the housemates went away for a holiday.  That seemed to do the trick for a bit.  While it was just me it was grand.  I was grand.  I really had a good week and a bit; but then boom…straight back into it when they returned.

Yesterday afternoon was the first time that I’ve really considered depression as a source of all this anger, emptiness, hopelessness and loneliness that I’m feeling at the moment.  I really don’t like to think that I’ve depression; and thinking about it, pondering my life, while on the beach yesterday afternoon I googled it.  None of the signs & symptoms immediately rang a bell with me, but today things seem different.  There’s a whole new light on things, particularly since I cooked an awesome meal for dinner.

Yesterday was terrible.  I was so irritable and temperamental.  I literally could feel an almost overwhelming sense of frustration or even internalised anger.  I was like that all day.  Like I wanted to do something to get rid of the pent-up anger and frustration; perhaps even energy that I had in my system, but there was nothing there that could or would help.  I was washing up and burnt my hand twice on the fucking kettle cause it’s a tiny sink and it’s kept in the wrong fucking place.  I remember shouting ‘fuck’ very clearly and very loudly and I’m sure that everyone outside would have heard it.  I just didn’t care that people heard that.  I wanted simply to go away and not have anyone bother me.  But that wasn’t happening.

Today wasn’t so bad.  I suppose the ginger didn’t whinge as much this morning; and things were a little better at work today.  I don’t know why my moods are so up and down.  Perhaps I’ve bipolar.  I just don’t fucking know.  Anyway, I got sent home from work early, with instructions to make dinner, which I did.  The dinner was delicious.  All was good after dinner just involving watching telly & checking some emails.  On the way to bed I heard the patient get up and do something.  Wondering if I’d forgotten to turn a light off, or the computer or something I went round and asked exactly that.  They both stared blank faced at me & then he said that he got up to shut the front door.  Both of them laughing saying ‘I’ve no idea what she was talking about’ as I turned and walked to the shower nearly had me in tears – I just slammed the bathroom door (unintentionally) and got in the shower.  I felt as though they were laughing at me; not even considering the though behind the question that I’d asked.

It’s so isolating.  All the little jibes directed at me, about me, or about something I do.  It makes me feel alone, isolated and worthless.  Like I’m only here to wash up and cook and for them to have a common ground as someone to pick on or make fun of.  It’s like I can’t take a joke about me anymore.  I think that the only reason that I’m like that is that I feel at the moment as though I need to be a bit on the defensive cause there’s no one else here that will stick up for me.  And there’s not.

I’m not happy.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  But at the moment I feel as though I’ve no choice.  I just have to stick this out until I get the call that I start in a month.  As soon as the testing’s done and my start date gets set I’ll be off – probably just chilling and training somewhere.  But that’s the issue.  I get more training done here than I do anywhere else, the only exception being Vegas; but Vegas is a money issue at the moment.  It’s just more in the lifestyle here.  But, long-term I think the decision about coming here for the FYC is made – I’m going to ask for Vegas, and hope like fuck I get it.  If not, I’m not sure where I’ll go next.

In the shower tonight I was thinking about the isolation thing, and if it is in fact what is causing me all these problems.  I think it is.  I think that being lonely cause I feel like there is no emotional support there is driving my frustration and anger.  I want a girlfriend.  I want someone who cares about me, and I want someone who I can talk to while I know that they will support me, not continually pick at things that I do – and only focus on any mistakes that I might make.

It probably doesn’t help that since their return the ginger porker doesn’t want anything to do with me.  He doesn’t want anything to do with anyone but the patient to tell the truth, but it’s ridiculous.  He takes absolutely no notice of me – today in fact he stopped in his tracks at seeing me on the lounge chair.  The little fucker.  That actually made me feel really bad.  The patient said something to him about not liking me today so I said ‘well, the feeling is mutual’ and was promptly told that it was not a very nice thing to say.

How the fuck am I supposed to react.  Before they went away he was perfectly happy to be around me and now he fucking doesn’t want a fucking thing to do with me.  What am I supposed to feel about that, and how the fuck am I supposed to react to that.  I said to the matriarch today that I can not be bothered persisting if he continues to show no interest whatsoever in communicating with me, or being near me.  She said that was a shame cause he was ok before they went on holidays.  It seems as though the terrible twos have hit – and he’s exploiting every single second of it.

He’s going to end up so spoilt.  His screaming has escalated since he got back from holidays with his parents.  He isn’t hurt, or hungry or thirsty – he’s screaming, and it really is just a scream; a fucking awful scream, cause he wants the patient to pick him up.  And sure as night follows day, that’s what happens.  He seeks out the patient and stands, screaming at his feet.  Initially the patient might say no, but guaranteed within about 20 seconds he’s given in and is bending down to pick him up cooing ‘what’s wrong sweetheart?’ at him.  He’s fucking 18 months old.  He can’t understand, let alone answer you.

More seriously though, he’s rewarding this inappropriate behaviour from the ginger.  Although he might not see it as a reward in terms of ‘here, have this for doing that well’ he’s providing positive reinforcement for the behaviour by providing a positive outcome (attention/being picked up) when the stimulus behaviour (screaming) is turned on.  I think that the Aunt has tried to get the patient to see this, but it’s not working.  They end up having a massive row over it with the patient saying ‘he’s my son, I’ll pick him up whenever I want to’.  It’s just spoiling him; and he’s starting to be a little fuckhead.

It’s basic fucking psychology.  If you reward bad behaviour it’s going to teach him that he gets what he wants when he behaves badly.  And how hard is it going to be to get him to stop when he’s 3.  It’s not going to happen.

Shepherd’s Pie

1kg mince
1 onion
2 cloves of garlic
mushrooms
2 smallish carrots
Worcestershire sauce
tomato sauce
1 cup beef stock
3 bay leaves
50ml water with cornflower disolved
1kg spuds
butter & milk for mash
200g grated cheese

Fry onion, garlic & mushrooms in a little butter or olive oil. Fry until onion is soft and clear.
Add mince, fry till brown.
Add carrot & wostershire sauce & 1 cup beef stock.
Stir through & simmer before adding a small amount of cornflower mixed with water to the meat. Take off the heat and stir through as adding.
Add tomato sauce, salt, pepper & more wostershire sauce to taste.
Cook and mash spuds as per usual (milk, butter & salt to taste)
Simmer to reduce before putting in a big pot, covering with mashed spud & a layer of cheese and cooking in the oven for 20mins.

Brown cheese under the grill. Serve with green veggies.

I don’t usually put salt in mash, but the meat was a little sweet, rather than salty.

skinny dipping

Just finished a non-training day. Worked this morning then lazed by the pool for the majority of the afternoon. It was awesome too. I jumped in the pool to cool off then finished Lance Armstrong’s ‘It’s Not About The Bike’. Wow, what a story. A story of courage, determination and beating the odds. Strangely though I didn’t really find it all that motivational. More sobering, and humbling. Truly humbling to think a man could win the Tour de France seven times after beating cancer and surviving chemotherapy.

A lot of what he said about training for his initial Tour win rang bells with me. He was completely methodical, deliberate and analytical about his training. He analysed everything. Everything from his workouts – every little statistic to his nutrition. He graphed calories versus wattage, heart rate versus wattage and trained on the things, the areas that he knew he needed to see the most improvement to achieve his overall goals.

I know that I can be very analytical about things; not to the extent of graphing everything, but I could see how I could get to that point.

In other news, I think I’m starting to see some results in terms of weight loss around my rather substantial gut. I just think that I’m getting a little narrower below my waist, although there is still a long way to go. I honestly think that the week and a bit of just having meat & green veg for dinner, and really concentrating on eating better has done the trick and got me over the initial hurdle. Now it’s just a matter of maintaining consistency and effort in both diet and training. I’m really enjoying the training, but think next week I need to focus more on doing some longer sessions, perhaps some run/bike sessions. We’ll see how I go. I think the recovery week, although hard (and slightly worrying about breaking the habit) has been good for my body, and motivation. Train hard next week and I might just find the money for a massage.

recovery week

This is my recovery week. I’m struggling with it. Everyday I want to train, which is a very good thing, but training to me means going hard. Everyday I need to remind myself that it’s a recovery week and that I’m ‘not’ to go hard.

Missed work today. Read the rota wrong. Pure and simple mistake; that’s all it was. Got up and headed to the range, to find out that it was closed so I headed out to Innes Park for a round. The round wasn’t very good, to say the least. On my return to the house I found out that they’d called. I was supposed to be at work at half 8. I was sure that it was half 12; and I got home in enough time to get to work for half 12, but they didn’t need me. Swapped for some hours this morning instead.

Went to the beach this afternoon for some walk run stuff. Walked 400m then run 100, walk 50 to the end of it. Running in the softer sand made things really hard. I started to feel my calves getting tighter than they normally feel so pulled up, but cardio wise I was getting a huge workout by the end of the 100m in the soft sand.

This afternoon I went to the beach for a bit of a run/walk style thing and then some range work. Work on my short game. I was getting better by the end of it – I took 5 balls and hit my 60 from about 40m, the aim to get all 5 on the green before I could go home. It took four tries to get it done; but by the end I felt as though I was hitting the ball a lot better which is something, perhaps the thing, that I felt was missing this morning. I think, technique wise this morning the main issues were that I wasn’t watching the ball well enough and that I was letting my right leg dip as I turned through the backswing. I definitely noticed an improvement in the way I hit it when I focused on tightening up my right knee when I was moving through the backswing. I think that this kept my head steadier, and as such I watched the ball a lot better. A cue I focused on this afternoon was to make sure I could see the ball right through to impact. I felt a big difference, psychologically when I got to the top of the backswing and could see the ball as my left shoulder seemed to slip under my chin. It was something I started to look for in the when I was towards the end of hitting my 60. Was actually pretty happy with how the longer pitches went.

I also worked on controlling the length of carry when chipping over about 10m with my 60. I would pick a spot on the green and aim to carry the ball to there, with the intention of getting run after that. I think, once I’ve more control over how far I can carry the ball – i.e. can carry it to a certain point on the green then life in terms of chipping will become a lot easier. That makes it more about reading the speed of the greens rather than trying to get backspin to stop the ball near the flag. I think backspin, for me, will be more effective when I’m using a fuller 60 shot from about 30 – 40m. I’m thinking I’ll head down there again tomorrow for some more work.

my brother. the arsehole.

The title says it all I guess. I’m not sure there’s anything more to say, other than to give reasons for the above statement.

He’s become so hard and seems to have lost his heart. He’s being an arsehole about Christmas. We’re having a massive family Christmas this year. Everyone’s excited about it, me particularly cause it’s my first Christmas at home for a couple of years. I’m excited to get together with everyone and to give gifts and share the experience with everyone.

I’m particularly organised this year and have most of my presents mostly done already. My brother’s getting a book. The exact book that he asked for. He had asked me a couple of days ago what I wanted. Today I sent a text back to him saying that I’d like a Scotty Cameron putter cover. I told him what colour I would like, where you can get them and also how much they cost. Then I sent one saying that if it was too much hassle or if they were too expensive (around about $50 – so not really all that expensive) that he could just get me something else, something smaller. I got a reply saying ‘lets not worry about presents. Can we just buy for M & D and let secret santa (our family-wide, keep the costs down gift giving experience) take care of the rest?’. I sent a message back along the lines of ‘no, that’s not what I or my sister want to do’. It escalated from there. He doesn’t want a present and doesn’t want to give one. I’m not sure if it’s laziness or tightness. It can not, rationally, be tightness when he’s no issue with going out at the weekend and spending $500. I said that I didn’t understand, but thought that it would be difficult to understand the meaning of Christmas, and the gestures associated with gift giving and receiving, unless you’d had one or two Christmases away from the family. That has made Christmas more special to me.

His drinking is also out of control. My sister lives in Vegas, round the corner from him. She can not even get him to come and help her put together her new flatpack furniture. That’s really shit. He didn’t come over cause he was too hungover, when he got there he stayed for about 20 minutes and she said he spent the entire time on the phone. She was ultra upset cause she overheard him talking to his friends about how he’s banned from the Normanby. That isn’t the most upmarket place about, but they don’t ban you for nothing.

I would have thought the ‘getting the shit kicked out of him, arrested, charged and fined’ incident from earlier this year would have taught him a thing or two about respect and not acting up when you’re out. Obviously not.

the f word

I’m told, by my FT 60 that this is to be an easier training week.  I wasn’t really all that sure why cause last weeks’s stats were down on what I considered to be an easier week, although I have smashed my training and body in the last few weeks.  No wonder it’s telling me it’s time to dial it back.

I’m grumpy as anything today and consequently saying the f word quite a lot.  I could eat the face off anyone who annoys me.  And nearly everyone is annoying me in one way or another.  I’m just grumpy.  This girl at work is an idiot.  She’s an idiot at the best of times but today she’s being particularly annoying (perhaps I’m perceiving that she’s more annoying cause of my lowered bullshit tolerance level) today, and she’s doing it on purpose.  FARK!!  Just laziness, and immaturity – she would rather ask for help before looking herself of trying to do whatever it is that she has to do. 

She’s 16, so I guess that explains the immaturity.  She quit school and moved out of home just a few months ago.  Her father also died earlier this year, and I’m not completely compassionless to that; I’m sure that it would be one of the things that I would most struggle to deal with; but that’s no reason for her to leave school.  Her english, and spelling, is terrible.  She really should be at school still, learning to spell and speak english properly.  I cam so close to telling her that she had the english of a 10 year old when she was pronouncing badminton ‘bat-minton’.  Idiot.  She’s a classic case of an occa who needs more education.  She also needs to be corrected when she says the wrong words, like ‘how are yous’.  Yous is not a word.

Anyway, she’s annoying me today, so much so that I needed to come to the other shop to get away a bit.  I think I’m also annoyed at my own performance last night.  I drank too much and didn’t sleep at all well.  Not cool.  We spent all weekend fencing – tearing down one fence and putting up a 6 foot colourbond fence in its place.  It was hot all weekend, and save for little bits here and there we were out in the sun all weekend.  Although I didn’t really do that much work with the crowbar I still felt as though I was tired – and in need of a drink last night.  The frosty beers were good too.

gore-torn

So today I found a rip in my trail running shoes/hiking boots.  Not happy Jan!  I promptly phoned Kathmandu in Brisvegas asking what to do seeing as how they are less than 6 months old and were purchased in Canada.  After much searching and very little success on the Salomon website I enlisted the help of Kathmandu again.  Head to this number and speak to this guy; and good luck I was told.

No bother.  The chick was really lovely about it after I’d explained the situation and she promptly set up for me to return the shoes to have them assessed.

These shoes are one of my favourite pieces of kit.  The Salomon XA Pro 3D I have, purchased in Vancouver for the bargain price (we’ll call it good negotiating skills) of $125 CAD. I really should have written about these little foot rockets before this, but well, I guess I just took them for granted, and didn’t actually have to think about them.

They are light, waterproof and provide excellent grip, in all situations that I’ve encountered while wearing them.  Covered in Gore-Tex, and completely waterproof, I would have thought they’d weigh more than 390g – but they certainly don’t feel like it.  The shoe is, infact, completely waterproof.  Wearing them to the beach a couple of weeks ago, the got all mucky so I just washed them off under the tap – my foot, dry as a bone.  They’re comfortable, courtesy of the Orhtolite sockliner.  Although these don’t make it feel as though you’re walking on little pockets of cloud all day, they fit like a glove.  Something to do with Salomon’s ‘Sensifit’ that “works to cradle the food providing a precise and secure fit”.  It works.  I’ve never felt slippy or unstable in these shoes despite the pretty much elastic lacing system.  I also like the laces.  It literally takes about 3.5 seconds to do them up, and getting them off is just as quick – just release the clasp and you’re pretty much done.  Another thing I really like about these shoes is that they’ve included a rubber toe-cap to ward off any nasties that come your way when wearing them – we all stub our toes from time to time.  I really like these shoes.

I also love the fact that after a bit of searching someone on the end of the phone was actually helpful with my warranty questions.  No questioning or bitching at all – just help.  I like that

Today was an easier training day.  This morning, feeling motivated, I pumped out 15k on the bike in 25:50.  Not a bad way to start the day.  This afternoon I went for a more leisurely stroll down the beach.  It was a walk without a purpose.  I just wanted to get out and walk for a bit, and what better place than my local 800m stretch of beach.  It wasn’t so bad.  Took my little phone and made the little GPS gizmo in it do some work.  I quite liked the walk this afternoon – it wasn’t too stressful, but most of the time I was working in zone 2, where I find it hardest.  That might become a regular event.  The high MHR is due to a couple of little jog stretches that I did.  Just to see how I went.

15k – 25:50

27:44

365 cal, 15%

AHR: 169

MHR: 181

Walk

26:43

249 cal, 33%

AHR: 138

MHR: 171

Just as I’d turned to come back a couple that were walking in the opposite direction to me as I headed south were walking about knee deep in the water.  A smallish white was came up and nearly barrelled the chick.  She actually did the pre-fall stumble, but managed to regain her composure without getting her hair wet (not that she was a prima donna or the like).  She retreated to the other side of her husband, and to shallower waters after that little run in.

smashy smash

I’m not overly sure what the hell I was thinking when I decided to do a crossfit style 300 workout today.  I must be insane.

The workout

20, 5 for time

16 laps

squats

push ups

db bent over row – 7

crunches

10 laps

db thrusters – 7

db to shoulder – 10

reverse crunches

db swings – 10

1/2 burpee

Time: 11:10 for 20; 14:30 for total

5 k cycle – level 1 – 8:48

As I said.  I’m not sure what the hell was going on in my head.  It hurt.  Like hell.  It was some form of redemption for the shit that I’ve been doing to myself since I left NI; but there’s still such a long way to go.  Thinking back, and looking at my polar stats and previous workouts on here I’m fucked.  I’ve nothing on what I had.  So much training was let go.  And now it’s going to be so much harder to get back.

26:33

378c, 12%

AHR:176

MHR: 190

I don’t know how on earth I got through it. I know when I’ve worked hard.  I literally laid on the tiles for about 5 minutes, listening to whatever was coming out of the ipod.  It was literally just on whatever it wanted to be on – I didn’t care.  I was just sorting myself out, wondering if I wanted to throw up.  Wondering if I was going to throw up.  Not wanting water, but then not being able to stop drinking it.  An hour or so later when I headed out to the range I was still feeling as though a big old rainbow yawn might be heading my way at any time.

I’m so so tired now, I just want to go to bed, although I’m afraid to go too early for fear of waking really early, again.  I’m exhausted, but there was a switch flipped at golf today…I’m now motivated.  It came back again!

Zzzzzzzz

insomnia

Golf today.  Last night was horrendus – 3.30am I was still wide awake.  I’d shifted posts, from my bed to the couch in order to create a mind numbing effect that I hoped would put me to sleep.  No such luck.  I finally drifted off to sleep at about 5am; then woke with a start, in a panic at 6.20 to my alarm.

In the back of my mind I doubted the saneness of presenting myself for golf running on about an hours sleep.  I questioned my ability to concentrate for 18 holes, particularly while carrying my clubs.  They get heavy when it’s hot.  Surprisingly it was all good.  I honestly questioned my ability to keep focus through 3 hours, or more of golf, when I was tired; or suspected that I was going to be tired.  I wasn’t tired at all really.  My average heart rate was up for the session, probably a little to do with fatigue, but other than that I thought my concentration was fine.  I was hitting my gap and 60 well, but Mr 5 Iron isn’t working so well at the moment.  May head to the driving range this afternoon to do some work on that.  Also some chipping and putting – it can always do with work.  I putted quite well today – 35 putts for the 18 so that was good.  I had 4 x 1 putts and a couple of 3s, but was happy enough.  I kissed the hole quite a bit, and nothing really wanted to drop, but I was giving it a chance at least.  There were really only two holes that I lost concentration with my putting – think the rest just came down to whether the 2nd putt dropped or not.

End of the day I came in with 77 off the stick, which was +13 for the 18 holes.  I was shocked when I realised that I’d come through the back 9 only 3 over, but that included a nice birdie on the 18th (not at the end of the day due to the shotgun start) from at 5 – 6m putt.  Nice.

3:45

1484 c, 47%

AHR: 116

MHR: 153

Something, somewhere deep down in me switched today.  It was like I had my eyes opened, or considered another possibility, analysed performance differently and suddenly was aware of this massive factor that I’ve been happily omitting from all golf analysis.  Fitness. I’m certainly not the fittest person in the world.  And I am certainly not the least fit person waddling around.  I’ve been thinking I get about alright, carrying my clubs and managing still to do ok.  While talking with the spy (so named cause I’d bet that she was one; in a recent life), discussing my round on Sunday I realised that it’s the back 9 that usually causes me grief (with the exception of today, given that it was a shotgun start).  It’s not as though I’ve been completely oblivious to the whole golf and fitness thing, I guess I just didn’t really recognise the impact on my game until I thought about it in comparison to my performance.  Looking back at my polar results from when I was playing in NI, even though I wasn’t playing as well, I don’t think that I was hitting the hump until later in the match – usually about the 17th.  Comparing that to my training later in the day (yes, this is an update of this morning’s blog) I was so much fitter back then.  I also used to carry a full set of waterproofs with me, every single match, and much more food/water than I am at the moment.  Indicative of higher fitness levels.

Went to the driving range this arvo to teach Mr 5 Iron a lesson.  Didn’t really work.  Was shagged from my mid afternoon session, and still not really sure whether I wanted to be sick or not.  My body just felt fatigued, and I had to work really hard to keep my ‘technique’ tight.  My average heart rate was also higher, despite standing there whacking it, and not carrying any clubs anywhere.

1:29:45

630 c, 44%

AHR: 120

MHR: 144

And I’ve decided I need some stats on my site.  Not from all up, from now – this time round.  Aussie golf.

last chance saloon

Today, feeling as though I’m nearly in ‘last resort’ territory I emailed my cousin – a dietitian doing a PHD.  She’ll help me out I thought.  Away went the email and I’m now waiting patiently for a reponse.  I’ve not got one.

I arrived at work, feeling pleased that I’d done my morning run, but not pleased that I’d just waited too long, messing about, to make it to the gym before I came to work.  Although that might just have been a good thing – I’m starving, without doing the gym work.

At work I related to workmates how I emailed off, asking for advcice or a diet to help me get on track.  I’m needing this help, or feeling as though I need help because I feel deflated.  I feel that I’m not really getting anywhere and that it’s all for nothing.  Of course, I know it’s not.  And I know that I am getting results, I’m just getting tired of still being fat.  I know why the diets I write don’t work for me.  I’m not consistent enough.  I follow it like a deamon for a few weeks then boom – I’m over it.  Perhaps more variety is key.