Word For Wednesday (W4W) #70


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This week’s word is:

Swansonism

I am a massive fan of the American sitcom Parks and Recreation. I look forward to watching it every week and it never fails to make me howl with laughter.

I think it is pretty special insofar as every character is enjoyable for their own reasons. I completely identify with  Amy Poehler’s character, Leslie Knope. I have a massive crush on the hapless Andy, adorkably played by the very sexy Chris Pratt. I feel genuine pity for poor Jerry/Larry/Gary, the office object of scorn and ridicule with a heart of gold. My teenage crush Rob Lowe displays amazingly good comedic acting skills as the insanely positive Chris and Aubrey Plaza makes the OH’s heart beat a little faster with every episode.

But, arguably, the show stealer is the Parks and Rec Director, man’s man, Ron Swanson, and he has inspired my W4W this week.

Swanson, played to perfection by the pheromone-oozing, hunk of masculine testosterone that is Nick Offerman, is a die hard Libertarian who, despite working at City Hall, despises government and everything it stands for. Gruff and intimidating on the outside, with a menacing glare unmatched by even a Silverback gorilla, he is actually a big softie inside and always goes the extra mile to help people he cares about, (despite insisting he doesn’t care at all). One of my very favourite things is when Ron gets excited about something and his hard stare breaks into an impish expression of childlike delight as what can only be described as a girlish giggle escapes his mouth.

Ron has a very strict code by which he lives his life – hunt, kill and eat meat, stay firmly private and off-grid, approach any non-meat or non-breakfast foodstuff with suspicion, drink whiskey, make epic love, refuse to make close friendships and ‘be a man’.

He invariably gets some of the best lines in the show and a search on Google will reward you with a plethora of memes that will make anyone laugh – I call them Swansonisms. Nuggets of wisdom from the man himself.

Watch and Enjoy!

Ciao!

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

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Word For Wednesday (W4W) #69


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Yes, I know it is Thursday!

Apologies for another late W4W but I have good reason! Read on…

This week’s word is:

Tendonitis

As you will probably know if you are a twitter friend, because I have been telling all and sundry of my woes this week, I have this –

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I really shouldn’t be typing or tweeting or using my right arm much at all. The pain is intense, but as a chronically right handed person I am seriously struggling to NOT use my arm!

On Monday I had the pleasure of having my GP administer a cortisone injection directly into my shoulder joint. Yes, a two inch needle pierced my skin and sank balls deep into my poor inflamed tendon. I can tell you the sensation of 80mg of milky liquid being pushed into your tendon is not for everyone. A strange burning pressure. The worst part was afterwards; the pain seriously spiked as I paid the receptionist, (and not because I was waving goodbye to €50). The OH watched from the car as I left the surgery and said I was freakishly pale. I love pain yes, but not this type!

Two days rest and I can actually raise my arm to shoulder level again! It is stiff, and after ripping apart a whole chicken into portions for curry, a little sore, but seems to be on the mend.

It is funny that I am not remotely a 40+ year old male labourer, the most common sufferer.

I think, seeing as my pain stems from RSI from typing and tweeting, they should include bloggers and social media addicts to the list of at risk groups!

So, seeing as I have been suffering, you guys forgive my tardiness, right?

ps – you have no idea how tempted I was to have a different W4W this week… seriously, look at the number we’ve reached and remember that underneath the greying hair and ever increasing wrinkles of this blogger lies a weird little 14 year old boy freak… snigger!

Ciao!

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.

Word For Wednesday (W4W) #68


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This week’s word is

Ennui

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How I have been feeling and some explanation as to why my W4W is a day late!

I need distraction. I need stimulation. I need to be busy.

I need to not be so fucking meh!

Someone shake me? Slap me? Give me a kick up the arse!

I will try, my lovely friends, to remove my own head from where it is lodged far up my rectum soon and revert to being a cheerful, productive blogger… I really will try.

Peace out.

*drops the mike…

Ciao!

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.

Word For Wednesday (W4W) #67


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This week’s word is:

Pain.

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http://nlm.nih.gov

I live with pain on a daily basis. In fact, according to the definition above I live with chronic pain and have done for almost as long as I can remember.

I am not talking about physical pain, (although at the moment I am experiencing a lot of that also). I am referring to psychological pain – depression, anxiety, self hatred, self destruction, self loathing.

I read Cherry’s W4W and related to her situation so strongly.

It has been suggested to me by several friends, as well as the OH, that I may have Body Dysmorphic Disorder. I struggle with this idea. If I were to say yes I have that, in my mind I am also saying, yes I am not hideous and ugly, in fact I might even be attractive but simply cannot see it for myself.

I cannot accept that and I feel that if I said that it is borderline arrogant/big-headed. Yeah, I can see how you might read this and shake your head at my contrariness. After all, I am the one who regularly lifts others up and encourages them to love themselves, yet when it comes to me I do a 180 on my own advice.

Cherry told me this:

“One of the reasons people don’t think or talk about it is because they might think they’ll be seen as being vain. It’s part of the condition and it’s the lies that are warped, not your mind.”

It has given me a lot to think about today.

What would it be like to actually LIKE myself? To accept myself? To not constantly only see my flaws? To see what other people claim to see when they look at me?

Would I even still be ME?

I have always been a person who disliked or even hated herself. The concept of not being that way is foreign and perhaps even a bit scary.

These questions are overwhelming and are bringing tears to my eyes as I write them. How different would my life have been if I wasn’t always hating myself? Have I wasted all these years? Am I incapable of being happy?

Who AM I????

I think I have much more soul searching to do before I even begin to address these questions.

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💋

This week is World Mental Health Awareness Week so this post felt appropriate today.

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.

Word For Wednesday (W4W) #66


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This week’s word is:

Denial.

Ireland has a truly woeful approach to mental health. Our Health Minister admitted that €12million, originally earmarked for mental health services, was going to be reallocated. I think that in itself speaks volumes about how our government values its society’s mental health.

In Ireland, 500 people are estimated to die by suicide each year, meaning we can reasonably suspect the number is even higher. We are getting better as a society when it comes to talking about suicide and depression. But not enough, in my opinion.

Here is my denial story…

I was 17 when I sat on my bed one night, wrote goodbye letters to all my family members and took an overdose of paracetamol. I remember lying there crying, feeling only utter despair. After a while I heard my big sister come in from her work. She worked shifts and it was very late. I felt a sudden need to reverse my decision and went downstairs in my nightie and told her what I had done. She took me to the A&E where I was given a dreadful emetic and a revolting charcoal cocktail to drink.  I remember The Beautiful South were playing on the radio. Then I remember being left in a ward of adults, my lips stained black from the charcoal, dreading the next day.

I remained in hospital for a number of days while they did tests to see if the paracetamol had damaged my liver. A stern doctor and a group of medical students stood around my bed, discussing me as if I was invisible to them, handing around my suicide letters. I felt completely violated, vulnerable and pretty furious but I was a good girl, I said nothing.

My parents came and wanted to know why I had done this terrible thing. I had no words to explain it to them. I remember fleeing to the bathroom to escape their questions. They followed me and, feeling helpless and cornered I remember crying and actually stamping my feet in frustration. My father said I was acting like a child. My mother told him I was frightened.

My father was the one who came to bring me home. He was faux cheerful and insisted on taking me to a large supermarket on the way home. He told me to choose whatever fancy foods I wanted. I could not have cared less and he grew frustrated with me. He actually seemed to think a treat would fix me.

My suicide attempt was never discussed.

My father seemed to think I was “on drugs” and would occasionally ask me to promise not to “take drugs again”.

I was never offered therapy. Life went on.

I never told them the real reason I took the overdose.

(Sidenote: My mother died when I was 20 and the morning after her death my father found me downstairs very early because I could not sleep. He sighed with more frustration, I felt as if my grief was an inconvenience to him, my neediness was the last thing he needed. I had a packet of herbal remedy for sleeplessness, Valerian, next to me and he said, “You’re not taking drugs again are you?”)

Denial. My family excelled at it.

If someone you know is feeling suicidal, or you suspect they are, please do not ignore it.

Be brave. Talk to them. Ask them how they are feeling. Ask them if they feel a desire to hurt themselves or to not be here anymore.

Give them the gift of allowing them to say it. Give them space to talk about how they feel, what they need.

Understand they are in more pain than they can express. They need support.

Don’t judge them. Don’t admonish them. Don’t blame them. Don’t shame them.

Don’t bury your head.

Don’t be my father.

Denial – it ain’t just a river in Egypt.

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

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