I'm trying...

But this post is proving to be difficult to write.

So I'll just fill this blog post with meaningless drivel. I am now in WEEK SIX of my placement, hows that? I am now carrying a caseload of 4 patients *wheeeee* , I have my first discharge coming up this week and I am juggling the role ok (well I think I'm ok?!).

Little J is angry at me/us/ for suddenly being away from him 5 days a week and is acting out as a result. Last week he cried and said 'please mummy, no more university - I don't want you to do that anymore' :( - it's so difficult to explain to a 5 year old that the end is coming soon, so we just say - Xmas little one, Xmas everything will be better.

I'll be back tomorrow to conclude the father chapter.

ps - I'm back at the gym - saturday, pump then cycle and then today I did cycle at 6.15am!!!

my father - part 3

So we were up to round one of the Marjorie versus Alexis fight yes?

So anyway, the next morning I woke to find my father gone on his round the countryside adventure and to say I was hurt and disappointed was an understatement. I rang my mum and she gave me a bit of strength. I continued on in my daily ritual of television, television, food, cigarettes a bath and then more television. Marjorie would come home and attempt to start some type of argument with me. I actually distinctly remember the day after that first argument when she came home and I was up to the afternoon viewing of home and away - she came in and began to pick up the cushions next to me, puff them up - make tsk tsk noises and attempt to get me to pick some type of fight. This was what type of wacko I was dealing with.

The days lagged on and although relations were icy, we began to get on with our normal everyday lives again. Me stuck in the house, while they carried on working. But everything about Marjorie began to make me irritable. I never forget bad behaviour and so I began to watch her closely and things began to annoy the absolute crap out of me. Apparently she was allergic to salt, pepper any flavourings or seasoning so dinner was bland and boring every night. Our long weekend drives became torture sessions where they would pretend everything was fine, while I would sit behind her in the car seething and I began to contemplate what would happen if I put pepper into her food.

It was around this time that she came home and announced over dinner that she had someone that she wanted me to meet, a friend that I could make -Naomi a flatmate of a fellow teacher she worked with - who invited me over to her house in Norwich on the saturday night. I was so excited, I'd been in the country for 2 months and I hadn't been anywhere! They dropped me at Naomi's house and she took me out for a wild night on the town! We had lots of fun and it remains a very positive memory of that journey. The monday after that event, Naomi rang me shocked to tell me that her flatmate had come home from school and told her that Marjorie was talking about the 'slut' that was staying at her house and basically saying horrendous things about me. The flatmate couldn't believe she was saying so many outrageous things about me and told Naomi to let me know. I rang my Mum and coupled with the homicidal thoughts I was having, she advised me to get out of there asap, store my luggage there and spend the rest of my money on an European trip and then come home. It sounded great to me. Now I just had to get a chance to find my father on his own. Marjorie never allowed him and I to be alone.

My chance came one morning when I saw him go to the garage tinkering with his car. I went out and calmly said something to the effect of 'I don't think this is working.. this is what has been happening.. explained the slut name calling.. offered my reasons and said I was going to go on a European jaunt.. store my luggage with him and then go home'. He took it all in with little reaction, he accepted my reasonings etc. But by this time Marjorie had got wind of me and my father alone and came out to us in the garage. I turned around and said 'will you just FUCK off'. And yes, well things decidely took a turn for the worse. My father was mortified that I had spoken like that in public - she began shrieking at me and I let it all out, 3 months of her bullying, intimidation and just plain evil tactics against me. My father turned to me and said 'I didn't ask for this, I didn't ask for this to happen. You and me we are like chalk and cheese'. And I turned to him and said 'Well I am the child here, I didn't ask to be born. You are supposed to be a father. And I am mighty glad that we are like chalk and cheese, because if you had been more of an influence on me I might have turned out like YOU'. He then said that I was to leave his house immediately and that he would call the Police. I rang my Mum hysterical and she was livid, absolutely furious. She said 'do NOT leave, you wait till tomorrow morning - tell him to call the police'. I then rang Naomi and asked her if she knew anywhere that I could stay and I am forever thankful to her, she gave me details for a bed and breakfast near Norwich train station. I rang my Mother back to tell her this and she said 'hold on girly, I'm leaving on a Malaysian airlines flight - I'll see you there - you tell that bastard I'm coming over and he had better watch out!'

I retreated to my bedroom and began to sort my stuff out. I began to think about how I could defy them in the next 12 hours until I was forced to leave their house. I began to smoke in my bedroom, ashing into the pot purri bowl that Marjorie had so lovingly left for me. I took the card where she had welcomed me into her family; tore it into little pieces and littered it all over the bedroom. I took all of my clothes down to the laundry and began washing and drying all of my clothes. At one point I walked past Marjorie when my father wasn't near and she leant in and said 'look at your GOOGLY eyes!' (yes she remembered that pearler, from last entry!!), I laughed and said that at least I wasn't a barren old woman who a problem with facial hair. Once they went to bed I continued my small acts of defiance against them. I called every single person in my telephone book *blush* and spent most of the night on the phone to everybody. I then went up to the bathroom, had a bath and then with much pleasure tipped as much as I could out onto the carpet (the bathroom was carpeted). Pretty shallow types of revenge, but I was 21.

I slept for a couple of hours and set my alarm to wake me early. When they woke up - I had everything packed and waiting. My check in was at 10am but at 7 I was ready to get out of there. My father packed my suitcase in the boot and drove me alone into Norwich. He didn't say one word to me. We stopped at the hotel, he parked - got out and carried my suitcase out of the boot, along the footpath and up the stairs into the bed and breakfast. He carefully put my suitcase down, turned on his heel and walked away from me. I stood there, shocked beyond belief that my father - my Daddy would leave me without even saying goodbye. Its fair to say at this point that I collapsed with grief, even now thinking about it is incredibly painful to me. How could someone do that? How could they walk away without a second glance. He didn't know that my Mother was coming. He just left me alone. The manager of the place was witness to this and knew something serious was up - she quickly moved heaven and earth to get me into a room earlier - and I collapsed into bed. I remember little of this time, I know I did a lot of crying - I didn't leave the room. I didn't eat. I just cried.

The next morning - my mum arrived at Norwich train station, with a huge suitcase and nothing in it. She was steely and angry and immediately tried to ring my father at home. Luckily for him, there was nobody home. I remember her turning to me and saying, ok kiddo - lets enjoy this place for a few more days before we head on home hey? Where do you want to go? and I said LONDON please, London! So after a day or two longer in Norwich, Norfolk - we left by train. We went and caught Phantom of the Opera in London and then caught a boat to Amsterdam where I smoked a lot of pot - we wrote phantom postcards addressed to Marjorie at her workplace and blew off steam this way. The laughs we had as I penned a thank you postcard to Marjorie thanking her for her recommendations for a clitoris piercer were loud and long and sustained us for many a train trip! After a week we got on the plane and headed home to Darwin where as we landed I began to cry. I didn't want to be back there, and I fell into a black hole. I stayed at home - here I was; home again - and I didn't want to face people and tell them that my father didn't want me.

About 2 weeks after I returned home, one of my friends who I had worked with in a nightclub up in Darwin, rang me. She had moved to Melbourne and invited me to come down and join her. Her boyfriend at the time was a freight pilot and he organised for me to be flown down on a freight plane for a bottle of gin. So, off I went to Melbourne - with a suitcase, a bottle of gin for the pilot and a trip to a city I had never been to. The rest as they say, is history.

I still have more to tell about my father. There is current stuff still going on. I will tell you, but it will have to be the concluding chapter, because this entry is soooooo long.

My father - part two

I didn't realise this would be interesting to other people lol.

So... I was up to the phone call.

I remember being at my cousins house and having my Mum ring me and say 'your father is going to ring you, you have to come home'. I couldn't quite believe it, I was numb, excited, terrified, scared, emotional, anxious, happy - you name it, I felt it. I rushed home and then the phone rang and as easy as that, there I was talking to someone who I had waiting most of my life to speak to. He was casual, excited, and I distinctly remembered him saying 'how old are you?' which made me feel a bit strange, didn't he know that? And then he asked when my birthday was which gave me a twinge of pain, didn't he think of me every year on my birthday, like I thought of him on November the 15th every year without fail? But that twinge was overtaken by the excitement I felt and my Mum felt for me as we marvelled at our find!

Over the next week a flurry of phonecalls happened across the continent - and my Mum came up with a great idea suggesting that I change my tickets from New Zealand to visit my extended family to go to England and stay with my flesh and blood, my father. By this stage it was only 2 weeks until I was due to go, but my Mum managed to change it and all of a sudden - bang I was lining up at customs at the age of 21 to fly across the world, to meet my father at the other end at Heathrow airport. I remember the flight well. I didn't sleep a wink the entire flight as I again went through all the emotions; giddy with excitement, terrifying fears, teary, scared, happy as well as being unbelieving that at the other end, I was going to come face to face with my father, the missing part of me.

I remember getting off at Heathrow and being overwhelmed by the size of the airport, it was massive (hey, Darwin girl here!). I came out through customs desperate for a cigarette and found a smoking area inside of the airport (it was obviously the 90's), while I waited - terrified. I remember smoking my cigarette and seeing a grey haired man, with golden skin and my eyes walking towards me. I hurriedly put my cigarette out and turned to meet him. He looked so different from the father that I remembered, in all my imagining of how this moment would happen - I had imagined my father with dark hair and a younger, firmer face.

I've forgotten about what exactly happened during that first meeting - my memory is not so good - probably due in no part to the jet lag that was trying to engulf me. I do remember driving the 3 or so hours back to Norfolk, to his house in Norwich - with he and his partner Marjorie. I remember being in awe of the rolling countryside and the dairy cows everywhere (hey, Darwin again!) and I remember stopping for breakfast somewhere along the way home and them trying to convince me to have a fried bread (bleurk!). After some time we arrived at their house - a heritage listed 300 year old house which was called 'Gothic House' - it was a tudor style beautiful house. My father apologised and said he had to go to work 'for a few hours', I didn't care because I was exhausted and I had planned to sleep anyway. I went up to my bedroom, made beautifully with a gorgeous little card from his partner welcoming me into their house etc. I unpacked and looked longingly at the bed.

Majorie called out and asked me to come down for a cup of tea. I considered it and thought it polite to do so, but planned very quickly to make my excuses to have a nap soon after. I remember sitting there with a cup of tea and Marjorie started off pleasant enough, but after a short while she began to confide in me about my Father. I started to shift uncomfortably in my seat as she began to disclose my father's various indiscretions and how he cheated on her with 'this one' and then that one. I stared at her, with my eyes hanging out of my head as she went into more and more detail and of course after all these years, I couldn't remember exactly what she said except for when she regaled a time that she came home and checked the sheets of the bed where I was to stay claiming that 'the sheets were still WET from them' *vomit*, I remember thinking at that point, who is this freak? I said 'oh, well I guess this is really none of my business' and then apologised and explained that I hadn't slept for over 30 hours and went off to bed.

My father wasn't around much during my time over there. Marjorie worked as a teacher in a seaside town around 30 minutes away, so she was also gone every day. This gave me much more time than I would have liked, alone. It was freezing cold, I had no transport and I was in a village about 20 mins drive out of Norwich. Now, I'm quite an extroverted type of person - I have lots of friends and I am always busy at home. I had come from working two jobs to fund this trip - lots of goodbye parties, love and romance and then bang I was placed in a house in the middle of a foreign country with no friends, no car and in the middle of nowhere. It's sad now to think back to what I turned into. My whole day began to revolve around the television. I would start the day with morning programs, then came neighbours/home and away, then the Jerry Springer type shows. There would be a break of an hour, where I would go and have my daily bath and then walk over the bridge to the shop, buy cigarettes and the papers before I would return back in front of the television to catch the second instalment of home and away and neighbours. After that one of them would be home. This is what I did 5 days a week - oh and I greeted the mailman - I was desp for company. I can't tell you what I did at night, I don't have that many memories - I do remember helping my father a little bit on the computer..

Weekends would be filled with my father driving me around the countryside. I remember a hell of a lot of churches and old buildings. I remember driving through Essex, Sussex, Cambridge. I remember my father buying me an icecream when it was 1 degree, even though I didn't want one - who eats such things when it is that cold?? The British apparently lol. While I was happy that we went on these "family" drives, I needed more. There were things that I needed to get off my chest to my father, about how I missed him, why didn't he come and find me, did he miss me? Some issues that I had been carried around and stuff that I wanted to go over. The only problem was that those were subjects that he just didn't want to talk about. He said; oh, that is the past - why dwell on the past.. lets look to the future! Which made me feel even more funny because this had consumed me for almost my entire life. I couldn't just put it aside and pretend everything was alright. Little did I know that there would be little chance of just carrying on as if everything was fine anyway....

Back to Marjorie. As I mentioned, my father worked a lot. And Marjorie was home before him and would take me to the shops or on errands that she had to do. And yes, after her 'sheet story' she continued to tell me inappropriate things - by god she did. I remember her taking me to a gym that she thought I might like to join (hinting that I should, yet it was a 20 minute drive away when I had no car) and we made pleasant conversation in which I told her that the only time anyone had ever teased me at school was to call me 'googly eyes' (I have big eyes..!) which I found hysterically funny. Her favourite topic of course though was to direct me back to the cheating ways of my father, oh goody just what I like to think and talk about (NOT). Anyway she spoke about this woman he used to be with and said 'oh you are so lucky that he wasn't with her when you found him, she would have NEVER let you into his life'. I laughed and said 'oh I don't think I would allow anybody to stand in the way of meeting and getting to know my father, if she would be silly enough to do something like that, that is'. I spoke firmly about that because I didn't think that would be a reason enough for anyone to stand in the way of a daughter meeting her father - and I wouldn't have stood for it.

The next day as I sat at home after my bath/walk to the shops for smokes, I had settled in to watch home and away. My father and Marjorie arrived home and after a few minutes of hushed conversation in the kitchen, my father called me in. I walked in, my father looked funny and Marjorie was looking at me with disgust and hatred in her eyes. My Dad said 'Alexis, Marjorie has just told me that you threatened her last night and said that if you asked me to, I would leave her for you'. I looked at them and went 'huh?'. He repeated it to me again and after thinking about it for a while I realised how my statement made the night before.. (go on read it again, do you see anything untoward in my comments??) and told him so. Marjorie seethed and said 'you're a liar, you are a liar. You said you would take him away from me if you wanted to etc etc etc'. My jaw was hanging in the breeze at this point. My father turned away and she walked up to me and slapped me across the face - unfortunately he didn't see that. But what he did see when he turned around was me with my hand closed into a fist, swung back and ready to punch her square in the face. He restrained me. I became hysterical. She retreated upstairs to her bedroom and I sat down and he told me that he was seriously considering leaving her. I cried that she could have been so cruel to me. He told me that he was due to travel for 3 days around the countryside and I begged him not to go because I couldn't be alone with her, for I felt sure that she actually hated me.

He played the go-between for a number of days and relations began to thaw. But I didn't forget, because I never do. And the cease fire was only temporary anyway.

I must break this into another part because it feels so therapeutic to write this out and now it has turned out so much longer than I had aimed it be. So, keep hanging on and I'll be back with the next installment.

My father part one.

Hello all,

I'm trying NOT to transcribe at the moment and a post I answered on an internet forum has prompted me to write about this person, my father.

My mother and father met in Darwin in the early 1970's. She a divorcee with 4 young children and he a divorcee with 2. They met, fell madly in love and were together. Cyclone Tracy briefly separated them, but they reuinited in Perth. They decided to have a child together some time after that and within a year, I was born. Sounds like a perfect story, right?

Well. Let me fill you in. Apparently there was a lot of fighting, abject poverty (apparently I was clothed in cloth nappies made from towels) and the marriage was anything BUT happy. Regardless they got married when I was around 18 months old, and then broke up when I was 2. Obviously I don't remember any of this.

What do I remember? A man who went to disneyland and brought me back a real Cinderella dress which I wore everyday until it disintergrated, his puppies, jumping on his bed with gay abandon as my now five year old loves to do. I remember his pool (remember this point for later) - just positive happy memories of my Daddy.

At some point in 1981, my mother decided to move back to Darwin and so we left and that was the last time I saw my father until 1998. From 1981 until 1998 - I dreamt, fantasised and hoped that my father would come and rescue me - I clung onto my memory of being taken to Myers and told 'pick anything you want for Christmas Alexis', of the big mexican hat - when the going got tough with my Mother during my teenage phase - I clung to his memory. I had to find him, I had to find him.

And so as I neared my 21st birthday - my Mother and I sat down - and decided to try and find him. We went through every phone book and rang every entry in Australia that had his name - but to no avail. I was upset but tried to pretend it didn't matter - but little did I know that my Mother had put an advertisement in a magazine that was printed in New Zealand and Australia and it was this advertisement that my cousin living in Auckland found. She rang me.

(now the following may read like a hillbilly novel - I swear this is true!! And it is possible you may think less of my breeding ;) )

My cousin had not seen my father since he had left NZ all those years ago (way before my existence) - but she could fill in some family history as I was apparently related to half of Auckland. My paternal grandfather was a Welsh man in the Navy, he met my paternal grandmother in Tonga, married her and took her back to NZ where they had 4 children (the oldest, my father). He then left her and went on to marry another ELEVEN, yes eleven wives all of who were Maori. He had children with each of them, hence the comments about many relatives situated over there.

My cousin and I shared quite a few stories and I planned to try and get over there. My mum was so excited by this, she decided to buy me a ticket to NZ for my 21st. That was around November 1997. In the early months of 1998, my Mum had another brainwave - she was sure my fathers family would still be residing in Perth and so took a chance at ringing a radio station that had talk-back (apparently v.popular over there), she told them the story and they asked to speak to me live on air...! Well, within a week I'd had a phone call from my paternal grandmother who lived in Perth and a phonecall from my Father who was now living in England!!!

I'm going to leave you hanging.. this story is far longer than I first thought. I might come back later and add more to the story.

Just had to share...

I think it was in a previous post I mentioned the life changing and positve aspects of the sw area that I am in whilst on placement.

Today I got to experience that first hand just how amazing this work is. Today we went on a home visit. Home visits occur when patients appear to be ready to start having some weekend leave, they go home to their family overnight in the lead up for them coming home. Before that happens, the Occupational therapist goes to the house to see whether any adjustments need to be made and that the patient will be safe. Today I went on one of this visits.

This person had not been home for a number of months. The emotion that he and his family felt when he walked through the door, I just couldn't begin to describe. Well, I could but it just wouldn't convey it. It was enough that I had to blink back tears a number of times - it was just so amazing watching this clearly loving family just be and the patient reuniting with his pets that he hadn't seen for a number of months. Joyful, ecstatic, emotional, beautiful.

how privileged am I, to have been able to witness this family experience today?

On the drive back to the hospital with the patient, the news came on.. it was a story of parents (I think?) who had been arrested after starving their 7 year old daughter to death, she was found weighing 9kg at that age. Everybody audibly groaned at the description and I turned to my supervisor and said... 'and there is the other side of social work'.

here we go... week 4

Yesterday I started an independent case load. I was the person the patient met, I was the person the family met and provided education to. Now I am the one who will meet with the consultant and family and run all of the meetings...

And I would have started it earlier had I not been doing the lit review during work time last week.

In the hospital file, my name is next to social worker.

Yaaaaah! Here we go.

Still loving the placement.

I've done the literature review and methodology (2nd draft) so my next deadline is 1st draft of results and discussion and that is due in less than 2 weeks. I guess to do that, I will have to finish transcribing..... so that is my next task.

Things to do with fellow bloggers...

Donna. We are going to meet. And drink wine. I really, really want to meet you.

Melissa. I'm going to take you to Bridge Road in Richmond to feed you some yummy tofu.

Jenn. We are going to drink a really, really big bottle of drink together - while we yee-ha about our degrees.

Anyone else?

(I'm having an 'I love..' stage drinking my wine).

Good news!

Completed my sixth interview today! All interviews are DONE! Such a great feeling to know that I have finished, and the interview itself was again brilliant. I feel like I have been blessed to be able to meet all of these women who have allowed me to come and share in their most private experiences. Now to do it justice.

Spent the entire tram and train trip back to North Melbourne on the phone with my supervisor - was good to clear the air about our meeting (see previous post) because as I mentioned I was feeling a little vunerable. But all is good and she has even invited me and my family to come to lunch or dinner with her family once she hands her PhD in and I hand my Honours in.. so I think the sands are shifting between supervisor to friend and mentor (though I told her, I was hoping it would involve a meeting in a bar with plenty of wine - hic!). Which suits me fine because as you can already guess, she is very much on the receiving end of a girly crush from me. And this is so funny because, as I was telling James today, when she was the lecturer of the subject I was undertaking a couple of years ago - she almost failed me and I was pissed off and never really thought of her again, until she rang me this year to invite me into the program... She says I'm going to have to move on from the 59 she gave me from the essay that I submitted in the RESEARCH subject, but I can't get over the sheer irony that I'm now an honours student conducting my own research - In fact I actually think it is hilarious! But yes, now - I've actually found someone that not only I respect and admire - but who I actually like too!

Anyway, enough gushing.

Today the other student who is on placement at the hospital (in oncology) and I had a peer supervision session, at a terrible little cafe across the road from the hospital. None other than http://www.rhcl.com.au/ here. God, does anyone know how to make the link hidden so you click on a word to get there? I'm such a techno-phobe. Anyway - one cafe latte and one pear and chocolate muffin later (omg, I'm so going back there) and quite a lot of chatting - we pledged to do this on a weekly event, to debrief to each other. Because she has also been finding it tough, lovely girl she is too :(.

I went via the ward (my supervisor had an RDO) and did some independent sw - meeting with a new patient and talking to two others... ooh I'm getting the hang of this I reckon :). Then went down to a BBQ on the lawns outside my building - had a sausage and then ran to the train to get out to the North Western Suburbs to interview my final participant. Now I'm at home with my beautiful children. Aaaaah, I just love me a friday - James is out in the kitchen making a pizza for dinner, children are eating their pizzas that they made and decorated - all is right in the world.

tofu

Still feeling a little overwhelmed by my workload but two very important things have happened in the last 24 hours..

My fifth interview;

This is what it is about. Being entrusted to hear someones personal story - it really brought the end goal back into sharp focus. I am so grateful and privileged to hear these women's stories and I only hope that I am able to do the justice that this story deserves. Also, it just reinforced the themes that I had already gathered from my other interviews. This stuff needs to be told. I just need to remember this when the going gets tough.

My supervisor;

Today my uni supervisor came into my workplace and took me for lunch - her treat. We spent over an hour talking through some things - and I think I might share them here with you. First of all she wanted to know if I had recovered from my angst, or whether I was just *pretending* that I had recovered? Hmm interesting question I said. I replied that I thought I had recovered, but it was just so hard to tell - because I am an angsty person in general - like I worry about things I have no control over and I am more anxious than the average Joe. She then mentioned that throughout the year she has noticed me making a number of comments when talking about further study (ie - PhD) that I always say 'oh that is James' domain' or 'I always get James to read over it, he is the smart one' or comments to that effect. This is the up/down side of having a SW for a supervisor.. LOL. She wanted to know whether this pattern of thinking dominated in any way.

And well, yes. It does.

I couldn't hide it from her any longer. The following jumble fell from my mouth in a virtual heap on the table next to the tofu/eggplant/couscous/sweet potato deliciousness that we were stuffing our faces with;

1.My complex family history - disjointed. Grew up feeling like a failure, told I was a failure.
2.I had my first baby - and the failure feeling magnified to a point where I considered everybody to be much better off without me.
3.Starting SW and during my developmental subject making this horrid realisation that it wasn't normal to being gripped with terror whenever I left the house and having a *wee* breakdown in 2004.
4.Having therapy and making connections to point 1 +2 + 3. Such a major day, that one. The psychologist forced me to yell out what I felt described myself and the overwhelming theme was 'useless'. So many tissues were used as that little realisation came to a head. Good god, that is the theme I had lived my life to. It was awful, awful, gut wrenching - still is to realise this is my schema.
5.Our work together made a lot of ground and I recovered somewhat, but unfortunately this will be a life long battle. And as I said to my lunch companion today, this is my schema. This is the recording in my head. It is something I have to battle each and every day. I seem to cover it well though. I present as a confident and competent woman who knows what she is talking about and where it's at. But underneath that veneer, is someone who is waiting for someone to out her for the fake that she is.

And when I said all of that.. I though *shit* should I have just let it all out like that? Why did I do that? Nothing like a bit of therapy with my tofu I guess.

She then recounted a time when a couple of months ago her and another lecturer were chatting in front of me and they both agreed that they would be very happy for me to see their children as a sw and I apparently looked at her with utter disbelief. I couldn't believe that they thought so highly of me.

And so after some more talk about my study/placement/life in general - we shared anecdotes of mother-guilt, catholic guilt and just guilt in general (I've probably mentioned it here too - it is the one emotion I feel every waking moment), we languished in the sun and promised that every supervision session should be like this, though I said a glass of wine would complement the session to no end, but imagine the confessions that would come rolling out then!!! So with a sense of resignation we finished up our lunch and I went back to work. As soon as we parted the self-doubt began to creep in. What was I doing telling her these things? What does she think of me now? Am I just a navel-gazing twit who needs to just get on, with getting on? What made me just expose my vunerability so easily, to someone I respect and admire so much? Who I consider to be a friend?

Only time will tell I guess...

I absolutely do not mean to whinge...

but I'm feeling really overwhelmed at the moment.

In the past two days I have had two more people offer themselves as participants for my research. Which has been fantastic for the research (and for me) but that means that I have to juggle my full time work commitments.

So tomorrow I have to be, yes BE on the 7.21am train in order to make my 9.30am interview tomorrow. Then I have to back track back into the city to rush back to work. Meanwhile, my work (as mentioned in previous posts) is incredibly challenging too - and my headspace is pretty much taken up as that. Then I have to have my 2nd draft of my literature review in by monday and I still have more than one transcription to complete (that is without adding in the two that I will do this week).

waaah. I can't stop and chat, I have to get my self organised to be on that 7.21 train tomorrow morning. Oh and above all? I have no money until friday.

I did get to the gym this morning though.