Happy September. August has left with my blessing and any hope of proper sunshine this country hopes to have for the rest of the year.
August was bad.
It started with a heavy weight on my chest and a constant feeling of dread that all was wrong and if it wasn't it was about to be. The smallest thing would annoy me and I couldn't sort out irrational anger from normal anger anymore. I would have mood swings where I was at my funniest and dazzling and in two hours I would be weepy. I thought it was PMS and then my period wouldn't turn up and let me tell you, I am as regular as a Swiss watch. I broke out in spots on my chest (me beautiful skin!!!), I was so bloated I couldn't wear my rings or high heel shoes and no period for three weeks.
Two things happened one weekend that finally made me go to the doctor. The first was that a friend would ask me about my birthday (next Monday !!) and I would be so upset. I couldn't face my birthday. I kept thinking that I was about to be 28 and all I could see were things that were wrong, I kept thinking I should have some kind of 5 year plan or something, I then refused to book the VIP room where I was going to have my birthday. I just didn't want to know. Then the worst was waking up on a Sunday morning crying my eyes out for about three hours. I missed Church (not my normal MO) and just lay on my couch for what seemed like for ever.
The next day I booked my appointment.
So the long and short of it was that eight years ago I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and I was told that my levels were low and I should be able to carry on just fine, but from what I was telling him, it had cranked up a couple of gears and that now I had a common symptom: depression. So after referring me to the hospital for tests etc. He wrote me a prescription of anti-depressants! I told him HELL NO! I'm Nigerian, we don't roll like that. He then went on and on about her my symptoms will only get worse while I am waiting for my turn to the see the gynaecologist. For any woman reading this it's like when you go to the hairdressers and YOU KNOW that the style they are working on your head won't suit you but your powerless to change their mind. Well this is what it was like only that instead of a hairdresser it was my family doctor.
Did I mention I have had the same doctor since I was 10?
So I took the prescription but I didn't go to the pharmacy. I went home and gave it to the Maternal Unit. I went upstairs and I said to God, "I do not live on Wisteria Lane, I am not about to start taking anti-depressants, you have to help me find a way to beat this!"
So I went online and saw countless websites with all these women from around the world sharing different ways which they have tried to bring it under control and manage their symptoms(can't be cured). So while I wait for the slow machine of the NHS to reach me, I am trying to tackle this myself. All the websites say the same thing: bring your weight down and watch your hormone levels balance out (irregular hormone levels is what causes all the issues). So it is back to weigh ins and weight loss chatter on my blog :) I can't call it Freaky Bridesmaid Diet so it needs a new name....any suggestions? The bitch of it all though is that a rise in the wrong hormones makes weight loss more difficult to acheive [sigh].
With regards to the prescription, my Mum looked up the drug is her kick ass medical dictionary and it had the worst list of side effects she had ever seen. She was so horrified that she ripped it up at work on her ward and threw it away without thinking and then remembered it wasn't even hers! LOL! She came home and apologised for not telling me first but she was resolute.
I don't care I wasn't going to take it anyway! Anyway I exercise more, spend more time in prayer and reflection , just that moment in the day when you have quiet time and can pause and be still. I also called back the club and re-booked my birthday doo daa. I note that I am still over fussy over things and worry stupidly (case in point, latest problem my dress is too short for my party and my knees look awful. PLEASE SOMEONE BEAT ME) but I just shake it away.
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I got to know someone special. Someone who made me feel special, no scratch that ......made me feel like a Princess and a Goddess all rolled into one. I didn't feel like I was playing a balancing act, where the wrong move would make you fall. I could be myself and be free. I've had letters that made me cry and poems that make me blush and phone calls that make me laugh at 2 am in the morning. I can't find the words.....treasured! There it is, I felt treasured and hand on my heart no man has ever made me feel that way, not once. As wonderful as I have felt though, it all reminds me of spun sugar; sweet, beautiful but oh so very fragile. Whatever happens, I don't regret knowing you. I thank God for bringing you into my life, because when I felt like I was in a gutter, you put me on a throne.
xxx
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My Mum flew to America for her niece's wedding and couldn't pack because she was working double shifts everyday so I packed for her, matched all the outfits, sewed on missing buttons, did fashion consultancy on wrapper and handbags and shoes and wrapped in cling film and sellotape 10 bottles of Ace bleach for my Aunt as they don't have in it America (I know I know). So when she came back from work with a bunch of roses I thought it was because I had helped her pack but she said: "No not just that. I know I want you to move to your husbands house (when I was your age I had married your Father) but you should know I appreciate everyday that you are here with me." Awwwwwwww I love my Mum!
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BIG BOSOM HUG (c) to everyone on Blogsville and massive shout out to my Followers! See oh ..... 32 beautiful Caramelicious people. Thank you oh! I remember when it was six LOL! God bless xx