This weekend past my parents came up for a surprise visit; they’d just come back from two weeks in Canada visiting my brother so were probably really jetlagged.  My dad had driven them all over Ontario, but still drove the 450 mile round trip to see me, for one day.  It was really lovely.  We had a fabulous Sunday Lunch and then I fed them my home-made brownies at my flat before they had to go back down south.

On Monday, my actual birthday, I woke up a bit grumpy and morose.  P cheered me up though.  He made me leave the house, and we went for a day out in Glasgow, went to one of my favourite Japanese restaurants for lunch, did a little bit of shopping but generally just mooched around in the sunshine.

In the evening I had a lovely dinner with work friends, got an unexpected but fantastic little present from E (some old Cole Porter sheet music).  I was really surprised: I loved my birthday, for the first time in years.  My prophecies of doom and misery where wholly inaccurate.

Turning 30 is brilliant.  I highly recommend it.

I met with Head Doctor with an odd mixture of apprehension and hope:  as much as I didn’t love the prospect of building a new relationship, I did look forward to feeling the comfort I used to get.  Except, it didn’t quite go like that.

Firstly, Head Doctor is about 12.  OK maybe not 12, but I get the distinct impression that she’s a psychology graduate who has done a course in counselling.  (In comparison, my last Head Doctor worked as a mental health nurse, then did a bachelors degree in counselling and a masters degree in psycho-dynamic therapy).  I’m not saying that it means she’s a bad counsellor, it’s just, I think she was out of her depth with me.

I gave her a brief background and said to her

I need some help getting through this rocky patch, so I can find some stability.

She went silent for about 90 seconds (I counted) and then sighed.  Hmmmmm, ahhhhh.  Just like she was from Beauxbatons.  She didn’t say anything.  The silence got to me:

I feel like I should say something.  I’m not used to it being quiet.  Should I say something?

Hmmmmm, ahhhhh.  You can say something if you want to.

Great, thanks, that helps.  More silence.

Hmmmmm, ahhhhh.  So what did you say you want to get out of counselling?

I was a bit confused.  Did I not just tell her the answer to that, and she said nothing in response?

The session was a lot of Hmmmmm Ahhhhhh from her, and a lot of silence from me.  Eventually I said I really just wanted a referral to the CBT therapist – which is my ultimate goal, but right now I’m a bit too frazzled to take on that challenge.  I wanted to stabilise my poor brain before I embark on a mission to address my behaviour.  That was why I wanted to have some more counselling.

New Head Doctor said to think about what I wanted (again! I already told her!) and come back next week.  I called my old Head Doctor and arranged an appointment with her instead.  Sometimes I just need to talk to someone who understands me.

I found the session frustrating, disheartening and quite depressing.  Rather disappointing really.

I reached that point today.

After 4 years of Apple fan-dom, I decided to check out the competition, and got the Samsung Galaxy S2 – an Android phone.  When it arrived I was excited and eager to try what the dark side offered.  I set up email, Facebook, LinkedIn, Dropbox… all the usual suspects.  All went fine, until I tried to sync it with my MacBook.

Serious googling before I purchased it convinced me that although it might be a little inconvenient to work with, it wouldn’t be prohibitive.  I was wrong.

I spent 4 hours trying to get it to sync my music to the phone, with 3 different programmes, over USB and over WiFi.  I shouted, shook my fists, banged the table, cried, then got P to try and make it work.  It didn’t.  It just refused to sync.

I started to panic.  I would be stuck with this £400 phone for 18 months, heartbroken and frustrated.  But then I asked myself a question – what am I trying to achieve, forcing myself to use this phone?  I called O2 and put my cards on the table:  this phone is unusable.  It will not speak to my MacBook.  And hurrah!  My begging fell on receptive ears!  I can return it for a replacement.

I am an Mac geek.  Sorry.  I’m going back to iPhone.  I dipped a toe in the Android Sea and didn’t like it.  I’m sailing back to Apple Ocean and will be diving right in.

Now I just need to decide:  do I go straight for the iPhone 4, or do I try to assemble some patience and wait for iPhone 5/ iPhone 4S?

I’ve been thinking for a while about seeing another head doctor.  Not because I’m having any real issues, but because I notice that some bad habits are creeping back in.  I am utterly unable to make decisions.  I fail completely to deal with stress.  I must be in control at all times or everything becomes impossible.

I guess I’ve been lazy.  I have lost the habit of checking my behaviour.  I hope this new counselling adventure will help me to keep it real, as such, and not let my laziness get the better of me.

So far today I have:

1. registered to see a new counsellor at the university;
2. registered for a parking permit for next academic year;
3. attempted to pay for some gas and electricity I used in ghetto flat in May (long story, I might post it another time) but failed – nonetheless I tried;
4. started writing my project!

OK so now I’m writing here, but still, I’ve achieved more this morning that I did in the whole of last week.

Have a busy week ahead of me too.  I have to finish this project by tomorrow, then I’ll be back in Edinburgh Tuesday – Wednesday, on Thursday my long awaited sofa is being delivered (or at least it had better be, otherwise I’ll be firebombing Harvey’s furniture store for LYING blatantly about delivery times… they said it would take 3.5 weeks 2 months ago!), then on Friday, well, Friday will be my first day back in work WITHOUT BRACES!!!

I’m so excited!  I think Tuesday night I will be like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Anyway, back to work.

P has been busy this week too – he’s supervising some postgrad students’ theses – so it seemed like a great opportunity to work.

Alas, it was not to be.  The reasons were three-fold.

1. I got a bad night’s sleep – kept rolling over onto my poor battered-and-bruised side.
2. I had a bad morning – I found mould on my favourite jam and I made an atrocious cup of coffee.  Seriously.  Worst ever.  I managed to burn it and get half of the grinds into the cup.
3. I made a cake.

The cake was (is) wonderful.  It’s a chocolate cake with raspberry cream filling and bitter chocolate ganache on top.  But the cake will not pay for all the furniture I have bought since moving house.

Tomorrow, I will write.  I swear.

My body decided that it didn’t like the metal screws and plates the surgeon used to reconstruct my jaw, so I had another operation on Friday to have them removed on one side, as an experiment, to see if I got less trouble.

It was day surgery this time, meant to be simple.  I had a new surgeon.  Mr K, the surgeon who originally fixed my face, works at another hospital now.  New Surgeon is rubbish.  I know this for three reasons:

1. the inside of my mouth is like mincemeat
2. I have more pain and swelling than last time
3. he didn’t come to see me after the procedure.  Probably because he knew I would ask WHY DOES THIS HURT SO MUCH??

The nurses, as always, were lovely.  They got me as many painkillers as they could and I took all of them.  I needed them.  I even needed the opiate painkillers I was prescribed (but never used) last time.

P drove me home afterwards.  Saturday was a write off.  On Sunday I managed a trip to the supermarket but only got as far as aisle 4 before I started to get dizzy.  Today I managed to drive but I also managed to pull one of the stitches in my mouth so I feel a bit sorry for myself.

Now in my PJs, drinking tea, watching nonsense on TV, realising that I have a perfect opportunity to post on my blog again.  I’ve got a couple of milestone events coming up and I thought it would be nice to document them.

Firstly, in one week and two days, I’m getting my braces taken off.  I’ll have to wear a retainer, but this will be removable.  My teeth will be free!

Secondly, I’m turning 30.  Thirty.  Three-oh.  Bloody hell.

I have achieved some things though.  I have moved house, twice.  I have been discharged from therapy.  I have learned a new database language…

Other things are still the same.  I am still with P.  I am still insecure.  I still doubt that I will ever get anywhere with my PhD.

But, I’m almost happy.  I say almost because I found out this week that I need to have another surgery on my jaw; the metal plates they used to reconstruct it are causing a lot of issues.  Basically, my body is rejecting them, which is ironic because my immune system is usually pants.  It doesn’t defend me against anything.  Except the metal plates which are meant to be there and that only 8% of people react to.

I’ll be 30 in about 6 weeks time.  I hope the surgery is done with by then.  I doubt I’ll be free of braces, but at least I’ll be well on the road to mandibular perfection.  I don’t expect to get my jaw fixed and be magically happy, but the little changes that have been coming over the past few months  give me confidence that I will start my 31st year with a positive frame of mind.

I plan to come  back, sometime, and write.  I’m just not in a writing place right now.  I have a lot keeping me distracted (PhD, my business, P, surgery related things) and it’s just been hard finding a few hours to give this some proper thought.

I will be back, hopefully sooner rather than later!

Going to try and sort myself out this weekend.  Something’s got to change.