Archive for category Chronic pain

Hello my name is Mrs MoanyPants and I…

Met a Psychic in A&E!!

She was a bit of a rubbish psychic though, who asked a rude question and made some close-to-the-truth guesses  predictions. It was strange…and, unfortunately there are no other interesting stories of A&E, it was just I lost the ability to walk in town, had no wheelchair, everyone was busy.. sitting in town for 5 hours on my own, unable to move and in pain was not an option so a a non-emergency paramedic took me too sit in a ‘safe place’ until I was collected. Felt as if I needed some sort of badge with ‘Lost Property’ on it. It was not that bad, but I was a bit doolally with the pain & exhaustion so it was all a bit of a blur, aside from the Psychic. I got home, made yesterdays post, and attempted to sleep. Thrilling.

I was all ‘Yay, I will post all the most intresting stuff today ever and be loved, adored and feel clever and a bit more like the writer I want to be’

And…No. Because I am MrsMoanyPants today. Chronic pain is shit. Depression is shit. My hair is shit.

Instead….I wanted to post a useful link for any other miserables. CBT can be pretty magic for pain/depression/whatever. On this site it is free. And there is a man with a soothing voice..that sold it for me really! Self help is a good thing, so I like sites like this.

CBT and a soothing voice (Living Life To The Full)

In other news..

I have a new favorite artist. She is called Katheryn Harvey (I just made boy go squint at the name on the painting on the wall, bless him, he then had to spell it to me about five times…*cough*)

We have ‘Harry’ on our wall & what with being placed on the sofa this morning & being unable to get off it..I have be admiring it. It makes me smile.

Beautiful, isn’t he! More can be found.. Kathryn Harvey. About three years ago she had a small stall on the beach in Aberystwyth..and I saw Harry in my student days, it was love at first sight. I knew my Mum would love him too, so a few years later Kathryn had a shop next to the beach, and I bullied my siblings into going shares on the price as a present for mum.

I have been staring at ‘Reg’ all day and when I Have A Proper Life I will have him.

There..from A&E, to CBT, to Rabbit Paintings. You can tell I just started writing, eh?




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It gets madder and madder..

I should be sleeping…and resting my poor, failing eyesight but nay, I – having killed all other internet options – am blogging..which, if I am honest is mostly borne out of jealously due to seeing my friends super awesome new post with fucking awesome paint-drawings of mad-cats lady lifestyle here.

A mad cat, nearly the same thing..yeah


I am worried I am starting to suffer from Somniphboia but to be honest it is probably just the five-year old me putting its foot down. it wins with the ‘feed me chocolate all the time’ demands..why not go one step further and resist bedtimes?

no no no


*inserts pictures I have badly drawn on paint here. I have the ideas, just not 4 hours to spend on it*

I feel guilty when I do not sleep, mostly as I share my bed with lovely, snoring, pillow and side-of-bed stealing Boyfriend. He does not sleep properly if I am not there (altogether now..awwwwh!!) and as I am such a bitch during the day I feel that I owe it to him to try and be kind at night.

It seems I have to dilute my life into child-ahppy chunks and metaphors at the moment. I thought I was supposed to begin maturing once I got properly into my twenties, not retreat into sand-box playing mode…oh, I miss those days…

I have been writing, as you all know. I may even be kind enough to post my poem on my blog but only IF the Master poeple do not turn me away on -account of my long term folly in ‘mental health land’.

How would you make a young child do you bed? Maybe I should replicate that with myself? According to – Empowering Parents

The focus should be on your child learning how to manage himself through meeting his responsibilities and not on your child learning to manage you through power plays.

Am I power playing myself? I guess so..but I am no good with responsibility.

This is me normally..

That is me just mooching about, writing blogs at 2.40 am and wondering if I have things to do in the morning…

and then you ask me to go and lye down in a dark room. which is scary. and now they are saying it is because I need to take responbility for myself…

this is me when I hear the word responsibility…


A List Of Responsible Stuff Ifail at:

Having my own house

Paying bills

Calling people

Cleaning self – please see this post not the same as showering

Going to bed

Getting up when I do go to bed

Having a job

Not bein mad

So as I do not like and fail at responsibliy I’ll look at another option..

The Mayo Clinic say this

The scenario: It’s bedtime, but your child fusses about going to sleep because he or she doesn’t want to miss anything.

The solution: If your child can hear talking, laughing, or sounds from the computer or TV, it’s easy to see how he or she would feel left out. To ease the transition to bedtime, keep things quiet during the last hour before bedtime. Keep the TV out of your child’s room. Put away noisy games and toys. Turn off the TV, computer and video games throughout the house. Dim the lights. Limit the entire family to quiet activities, such as reading books or doing puzzles. Sleep may be more appealing if everyone slows down before bedtime.

No, everyone else is upstairs.

I am the sole one awake.

The tv is off.  i was knitting earlier, thats akin to a puzzle? I read a book? Eh. I suck at this.

I aspire towards this:


The Boyfriend just did it normal 3am wake-up for a sandwich. I imagine he will drag me to bed. Yay for moaning about responsibility and then the Boyfriend turning up so I do not have to do it my myself. ( and this was me being kind to him? OOOppps)


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Lovely Friends – Attempt Two

I deleted this because I wanted to first ask my lovely friend if it was okay to post. It feels like a dramatic step over into the overly personal..bits of my life that I tape iup, box up and only look at in safety. But, Nicoles comment (see first attempt) made me re-think. Honesty is important.

I set up this Blog because I wanted to draw stupid shit, make people smile and because I wanted to show that sufferers of significant mental health issues belonged and we not circus freaks. 


Lovely Friends

Everyone has Lovely Friends but I have been thinking recently a lot about mine. Aside from my sister I have a small but sturdy handful of utterly amazing friends.

Considering my return to the world in the form of an MA has caused a dramatic spike in memories of my Undergrad degree, as well as a lot of good, old fashioned nail biting contemplation.

Contemplation used to lead to a locked bathroom door and shameful, sad acts of violence towards myself. These days it leads to a overwhelming feeling of gratitude. I am more than enamored at this change in mindset and wanted to write a post a one of the reasons, or people, behind it.

My Old University


Emma T

I met Emma on my first day of University and I think I did a pretty epic job of freaking her the fuck out and considering hightailing the fuck out of our slightly odd smelling student housing.

I have not always had the stellar social skills I now own as a full time recluse and expert nutjob. Considering my return to the world in the form of an MA has caused a dramatic spike in memories of my Undergrad degree. I spoke too much and was anxious when I shouldn’t be. I was scared of the non-existant bearded men at my windows. I was reculse then in your face. I was strange. I was sad.

It was not easy, the degree was not easy. There were books, word counts, exams and portfolios. But I think the things around my degree were harder. There was the battle of my eating disorder, self harm, scary medical shit and psychosis.

Emma, the Boyfriend/make that fiancé and other-amazing-friend-who-shall-not-yet be named pulled me through the worst of everything, and the best.

Emma was there to dress up in stupid costumes for parties with, to drink tea with, to dance (badly, on my part) with. She was there to hand me whatever current cocktails or psych meds I was on. She was once the not-so-proud owner of my razor blades when I decided I was ‘quitting for real, this time’, she was there when I needed ambulances, when there was police, she sat up to stupid ‘o’clock in the morning in the waiting room of A&E god knows how many times.

Em drew me rabbits (and naked ladies) and together we decorated rooms for parties. She fed me Jamie Oliver food, and muffins I can never re-create (not for the want of nagging Boyfriend anyway!)

Em helped me cover up my illicit Bunny Rabbit purchase (RIP Geoffrey) and she pretended not to smoke outside with me and Boyfriend.

And somewhere in between picking me off the floor, finding herself, making her own friends, drinking tea, loving Jamie Oliver and pulling me up from some of the worst times in my life, ever, she managed to get a BA in Fine Art…

She drew, and drew, and painted and painted and threw ink and knitted and knitted and knitted and drew and knitted and spray painted and crocheted and painted and inked and sew and sew and sew and embroidered and knitted and knitted and drew…and she did fantastically.

I love and hate the space between my Undergrad and now. I hate it because it means Uni was just memories. I hate it because I miss it, I miss my friends. I miss mornings balancing tea on a kitchen table piled so high with books, art projects, half empty wine glasses and dead plants we never threw away – and being unable to balance the tea because the night before we had spent all night chatting or watching yet another film…or opening yet another bottle of wine, or playing more cards or colouring in kids books and covering the wall.

I love that space because I have watched my friends grow. I Em, as I always guessed she would, is amazing and doing the art thing while also doing a billion and one things I can’t keep up with. I love it because yet another series of Casualty has passed and Charlie Fairhead is still going strong. I love it because if time had not passed I would not be engaged to the most amazing BoyMan.

I am excited/terrified/hopeful about my MA and I am looking forward to new words, new skills and new friends – but no-one has friends like the ones I already have – and no-one has an arty, lovely, funny, sarcastic, strange Emma T like mine.

I write this mostly because I want the world/blog-o-sphere to know about my experiences. Mad people have friends. Mad people go to Uni. But also living with all this stuff, it is not easy on other people either. I do not think many people would take me on as a friend if they knew where it had taken Emma, Boyfriend and co. To be truthful I am positive that there have been times Emma and co have doubted their own decisions to remain in my life.

I do not do spoonfuls of sentiment often without the aid of Vodka.
I just wanted to air what was on my mind –and how I know how lucky I am to have someone who was willing to learn how to push a wheelchair for me!!  (in Wales –upward slopes abound)

This is my Emma T, with her fabulous and fantastic art (which she sells, like a clever bunny)

and a sample of her art that she showed in an exhibition

Emma Tann



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Lovely Friends*deleted*

I wrote a very long post and have deleted it becuase I do not feel it is fair to share that infomation with the world, It may re-appear, it may not.


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Post, sort of passes for one

Rubbish post warning

Things that are lame (said with a 14 year old pout)

1)Loosing my phone, finding it and then it breaking.

2)Wee infections…my friend said ‘weeing should be an AHHHHHHH experience not ARGH, oh how right she is

3)Chronic Pain – everything hurts. Insert four paragraphs of moaning here.

4)Catching your ball of wool on a door handle and somehow pulling all the 50 stiches of casting on you did off

5)Holby City having got oh so rubbish and cringe making



Things that are good

1) Finally getting the matts out of BitDogs silky ear fur

2) Managing to crochet a flower..and flower! (photos to come)

3) LittleDog snoring at my feet

4) Being excited to see the postman tomorrow

5) The Co-op fairtrade white chocolate with crispy bits (and not feeling guilty)

6) Stealing Boyfriends oversized PJ Bums just out the dryer

7) The picture to follow:


Shit post. Sorry. Will improve soon.


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When it hurts..

When I first woke up, nigh on three years ago, in massive amounts of pain and an inabilty to walk I was miserable.

This is not, in itself, surprising. In fact I’d say my reaction was reasonable and understandable.

Fast forward three years, a huge amount of day time TV and hospital tests I am still miserable.

This isn’t so cool. I have read everywhere..and here and here and here annnnnnd here that not being miserable eases symptoms..

to be honest, I do think this may be bullshit. If it hurts, it hurts…and It will continue hurting if you smile..BUT doing stuff and getting things done and finding interests you can do, even though it really, really hurts is important because it gives you a sense of achievement. It makes you feel like more of a human than someone who lust watches Jeremy kyle and Location, location, location all day.

Recently, I got to the point where I had seen ALL of the episodes of QI ever broadcast..that wasn’t in itself, enough to make me change my ways..but changing to re-runs of ‘Come Dine With Me’ really was..

I can’t walk far, or fast. I can’t train for a marathon. I can’t campagin for world peace..but I CAN  do more than I thought.

I have always been kind of creative..although my general outlook that ‘I am shit at everything & nothing will ever be good enough’ view has put paid to a lot of creative activity. Recently I have been trying to find small things that I can do..while I am waiting for painkillers to kick in..or in that glorious two hour period in a day when all the medications are at maxiumum effects and my pain level is a a 7 rather than a 10.

The foolowing picture is reblogged from this AMAZING BLOG, Hyperboleandahalf. I couldn’t find any other image that summed up what I meant…seriously, read this blog!

From Hyerboleandahalf i took some photos of some ‘stuff’ I have been doing to deal with the pain in the hope it may give some ideas and inspiration for others. Also I am a show off..and like being ‘look at me!! validate the stuff I did so I feel worthwhile!!’ (which is the whole reason I started a blog in the first place..but isn’t that true for everyone?)

As you all know..I have been Knitting!!!!

This is hard when it really, really, really hurts because my fingers do not like working, but when it just really hurts it is a good distraction..and stops other things like silly ‘I want to hurt myself’ thoughts..or ‘I am never going to eat again..aside from all that cake..’

Sorry about all the smoking stuff…I would have moved it out the way, but ‘yknow..I couldn’t be bothered..

Still, behold!!! The first few squares of my Amazing Blanket. Knitting is teaching me it is okay not to be perfect, mistakes happen and It sort of adds to the overall aesthetic. I am happy with it thus far, imperfections included. And so damn proud that I can pearl as well as just the normal, bog standered stitch!!

Here is it close up so you can admire my skills some more;

It feels a bit weird and uncomfortable to be showing you my knitting inperfections all up close and personal. It is akin to the time that my really-strange-socially-screwed housemate B, in third year accidently saw my boobs. (I wasn’t walking around nakey..not this time, I had the horrible experience when you take off a jumoer and the top came too…)

He should have reacted by going ‘eh, it is okay, I didn’t look..’ when I apoligised profusley for flashing my odd boobies at him..but no, not B..what he said was

‘meh, no worries, they are regular, I have seen worse’..okay WTF!!???

Okay. So. that was a detour while I deal with a flashback *cough*..on to the colouring book – I have always enjoyed colouring. I am a bit too self conscious to draw ‘properly’ because I am so worried about it looking shit. I know that seems at odds with the MSpaint i create on here..but one picture takes me about two hours to post and I am never really that happy with them.

So, I ordered a grown up colouring book from Amazon and I created some rules for myslef;

1) I do not have to finish it

2) It doesn’t matter if I go over the lines

3) It is alright if it looks a bit shitty know what? It really helps. It totally takes my mind off everything and is relaxing. It makes the ‘vile time when you are waiting for painkillers to kick in’ a whole lot faster.

My last current craft project is..sticking stuff to paper and doodling.

Yeah. The orginal inspiration was rahter more grand. I wanted to make one of these..

Dream Big, sucker

Because it is really pretty and looks like a good conversation peice;

so what did you do today?

Man in suit –  ‘ah, well I worked towards curing cancer’

Woman in Ballgown with gloves – ‘I named a new star and discovered life on a planet you didn’t learn about in primary school…what about you?’

(both of the impressive adults at this imagianry cocktail party look at me in a scary manner)

me – ‘ah, well, I, ah, suck tiles onto a birdbath and made it look dead pretty, I never thought I was able to achieve such straight lines!’

(posh man and woman with ballgown gloves walk away to talk about worthy causes)

Ironically, thanks to my termor I can’t stick stuff on in straight lines..but I aim to get there. Real tiles and a birdbath are a distant dream…

but here is what I do instead;

Bubbles and sunshine

Voices through an open window

Stick people talking

I find this really calming..especially if you cut all the squares out when you feel good..just smearing a shitload of glue on the page and placing the squares on is pleasing.

I feel much better about myself if I can list real stuff I did each day that is not just ‘lay in bed then on sofa’ and ‘looked at silly memes on net’

Somedays it is an achievement to even lie on the sofa. Sometimes it is too much to watch TV because the noise and flashing images physically hurt. Sometimes I cannot even hold a pen or a pencil because it is too heavy..but on the days I can I am trying to do small tasks, more than just smoking all day and wishing I was better.

Ever read ‘what Katy did?’ and ‘What Katy did next’..I sort of feel like she did when she fell of that swing..although for her it was sort of a religious realizations (yeah, you caught me I cannot spell ephianny..ehianfanny..epathigybtyyyy) and I am not so much religious..but yeah..good books..that and Nacy Drew pretty much sums up my childhood.

I hope you have enjoyed looking at pictures off stuff I do not do perfectly.

I am going to end with a greeting from EvilCat

EvilCat likes knitting too..

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Eating disorders, Lol cats and North Wales

I can’t believe how sneaky eating disorders can be..and so utterly stupid, 

so much so I dictated a Google image search to it; 

For my ED

Recently I have been gravitating to Inspriational Recovery Blogs such as Nicole and Gwedolyn, the ex bulimic and Recovery Inspirings Blog. I have been trying to think more positively – I had the pain enough under control today to walk BigDog. I live in a beautiful place and I attempted to actually see my surroundings, soaking up the gorgeous countryside rather than attend to my usual mantra of ‘fat,fat,fat,fat’ and soley using walking as a way to burn calories…this is what my ED makes me ignore – 

To be perfectly and utterly honest I couldn’t quite shake the numbers, weights and calcuations that were spinnig around my head, but I really did enjoy the surrounding area much more than normal. I did walk a little too far and have spent most of the day feeling sorry for myself attempting to push the pain level down from a horrible 8 to a more breathable 7. It hasn’t worked too well and my Ed has taken full opportunity of my mood and neatly tied it in with my attempt to claw my way from it’s grip…

Ed: Hi! are useless you know that? You didn’t even manage to be productive after that slow, pathetic walk this afternoon…you have just been sitting around on the sofa like a fat slug..

the thing about Ed’s is they manage to turn anything around into hard, pointy, painful spikey words…

Ed: ‘and you have been looking at recovery stories?! Ha! You’ll never be as good as those other people who have sorted out thier life, you are fat, stupid, lazy and boring..pain? ha, pain!? It is just a stupid excuse not to go out inot the world and do something meaningful..

Then the really, really smart bit..(please note the sarcasm) 

Ed: You are not even thin enough to have an eating disorder, why do you not just BINGE? You might as welll, you are not good for anything else. 

Er, yeah…because eating the kitchen of leftovers and Nutella is REALLY going to make me feel better. I am such an all or nothing person. I read about recovery and in my head I decide it is logical to just go binge, because I want to be able to eat normally so I may as well eat everything.

Reality check to idrawlikenick..binges are not part of normal eating..nor is restriction. I am not going to change overnight. I am not oging to wake up better. I am going to have to work for this and it is going to be a long, hard process. 

This inside of my head is ‘Fat, fat,fat, binge, pathetic, useless, binge, binge, binge, binge binnnnnnnnge BINGE’ 

Well, I am not giving in. Peanut butter, nutella and cold lasange, while tasty…do not go together and are not 10 o clock in the evening foods. It is not going to happen. 

Instead I am going to make myself a cup of tea and smoke (the one addiction I am not trying to fight, because If I am fighting everything else I think I should allow myself one socially unacceptable habit). I am going to find something to watch on the tellybox that does not involve weight or clothes sizes. 

I will recover..but I am not going to let my Ed tell me that binge eating is the way to conquer anorexia.

On a similar note (and please take this into account if you think eating disorders are ‘cool’ or ‘sexy’ or just a way to ‘drop 10lbs fast’)I was reading a crime thriller on my Kinsdle last night and It happened to mention the weight and height of the protaginist. This had no real bearing on the plot..which was about serial killers and stalkers and overal a very poorly written peice of crime fiction..but my thoughts got hooked on the damn weight of the fictional character and I spent the entire book feeling bad because I ‘wasn’t as thin as her’. A new low from my life with an eating disorder. Maybe it sounds like a small thing – but when you cannot even use fiction books to escape it is a fairly low moment. 

Eating Disorders are funny sad, not funny ha ha..but I still like things that make me smile..


Tomorrow I am going to attempt three things: 

1) Walk BigDog and look at pretty trees & hills, not think about calories. 
2) Take knitting needles, wool and all mindpower I can muster and attempt to do more than just throw them out the window…
3) Spend time looking at Lolcats and happy things not just porning on Come Dine With Me recipes website….

and  this evening I vow I shall not binge. No, no, no, no,no.  

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