Long time no blog.

Hello. It's me again. Been away ages. Have to get back in the saddle; it's been too long! I've been feeling depressed and it's gone on for months now. Not very productive but something I'm not getting a handle on. I'm not being proactive, not doing things for me; not doing anything I enjoy. If I do plan something I cancel at the last minute for something mundane that I think has to be done.

I haven't felt like blogging; didn't see the point. Had nothing to say. Haven't been feeling anything really except for very low. Depressed. Haven't enjoyed anything that I've done with the family. Just been feeling flat.

The situation with the awful orphan has been getting me down. There's a stalemate. No movement, nothing going on. Deadlines come and go. The bank keeps extending them because the awful orphan comes up with some sob story and the bank fall for it. They extend the deadline again. That leaves us in limbo with the threat of losing our home hanging over us all the time. The awful orphan's not bothered. He invested nothing in these houses; no time, no effort, no love, no money, nothing. For him it's easy come, easy go.

I've been to see my GP a couple of times over the last month. He said I need sleep and gave me sleeping tablets. I told him I've been there, done that, the drugs don't work. He said I should have the sleeping tablets, get some sleep and then we'll sort out the depression. As I had no other clever ideas, in the end I agreed. I took the tablets. I went back to doc after couple of weeks, told him I wasn't impressed with the sleeping tablets. He said I could double the dose, he said the tablets hadn't done a bad job considering. So off I went with more sleeping tablets, to get some more sleep! I go back to see the doc next week. Wonder if he has a tablet to make my real problems go away.

Everyday when I leave my house for work I curse and abuse the awful orphan. I look over my fence and if his car is there, off I go into the sewer. If the younger brother's car is there he gets some of the same. Not clever, not helping me, not productive but true. A negative use of my time and energy - I know; but does it make one iota of difference? No. Am I a grown up? Yes. Can I behave like a rational, sensible, positive human being? No. I don't claim to be a Saint. It's the same routine when I get home - I drive past their house, if the cars are there off I go back into the cess pit. It's all said in my head but it's still nasty. Just because I'm not shouting these insults and curses from the roof top doesn't make me feel better about myself. I'm not proud of myself. It usually starts when I'm in the shower, first thing in the morning; same senario every day, every week, every month, for over a year now. OMG! God help me.

It's been a horrid year so far. Recently it's been worse. I haven't been to see my parents for weeks now. I don't have the energy or motivation; or I just feel ill. I've called my mum. I've offloaded on her a couple of times. At least she listens. At least I'm not so resentful towards her now; she even sympathises with me! WOW. That doesn't happen easily.

My mum's having a horrid time too. Mum used to have 5 kids and 3 son-in-laws and 2 daughter-in-laws. Now she has 3 kids, 2 son-in-laws and 1 daughter-in-law. Two of her kids died in their 40's. Then a son-in-law died at the age of 59. Number 1 daughter-in-law doesn't visit; she divorced my brother before he died. So Mum's down from 10 "kids" and 10 grandchildren, buzzing around her every other day, to 7 "kids" and 10 grandchildren. The "kids that are left don't give a toss about my Mum and Dad. The grandchildren did what they could while the family was a family but now maybe they don't give a toss either.

Obviously I'm one of the "kids". I used to give a toss. I used to do a lot for my parents. I used to give up my 2 days off from work for my Mum and Dad. They had lost their first born, a daughter who was only 46 when she died; she had left two sons who were 21 years and 14 years old. I loved my parents and I felt bad for them. I took them to the doctor, to the dentist, to the hospital, to the cinema, shopping. I did all the things I felt would improve their quality of life. Then my brother died 14 months later. I carried on doing what I was already doing. My surviving brother also helped out. He came down from Milton Keynes to west London, every Friday or Saturday and did chores for my Mum and Dad. At this point nisha also got involved; she was supposed to share the weekend duty with my brother but most weekends my brother ended up doing it. nisha's input was minimal. It was frustrating for my brother but more so for me. I was making big sacrifices, my health was poor and nisha was crying off that she was too sick to help us out. What a load of bull. nisha's diabetic, she has been since she was about 10 or 11. All she does is moan about it; she wants sympathy the whole time. It's always boo hoo with her. My older sister who died at 46 years old, was dying of rampant stomach cancer. I never heard her moan about her illness. She was in such awful pain in the last 2 months or more before she died; in those 2 months she didn't make a fuss. She didn't want sympathy. So maybe she was a stronger person than nisha? I don't think so; she was afflicted with bipolar depression from the age of 18 years. She had many episodes and a few admissions to hospital for her bipolar. She had postnatal episodes after both of her boys. She was also the main breadwinner in the family. So she didn't have it easy.

nisha picks and chooses what she wants to do. Go on a demonstration in the freezing cold - yes! Go out drinking - yes! Go out clubbing - yes! Go to a party - yes! Go out to dinner - yes! Go out to sunday lunch at a friend's - yes! Visit her sick father-in-law - yes! Visit her sick parents - no. If it's fun nisha will be the first one there. If there's alcohol she's there; if there's food too, that's a bonus. If dinner needs to be made - she's off sick. If there are dishes to wash - forget it. Laundry to do - do it yourself. Hoovering to do - no way. She calls the non fun stuff "seva"; that means - service, (litertally) in Panjabi. nisha says I'm very good at seva. She was being facaecious when she said it, but I'm not bothered.

I did make a hot dinner for my kids each day, with fresh meat and veg. I did wash the dishes for my kids. I did wash my kids clothes. I did keep the house clean. Seva for my family - no problem. And it was no problem to do seva for my Mum, Dad and my brother for over 5 years. I was trying to cope with bipolar depression; I had been through thyroid cancer; I was struggling to get into work for 20 hours a week but I did it. Meanwhile the sickly nisha was working full time, in a highly paid post for a local London council. Then I got tired, fed up and pissed off. I was being dumped on big time. My kids, although all adults, were being neglected. My husband was a second class citizen. So I finally woke up and smelt the coffee; ages after my kids had tried to show me that what I was doing would kill me if I carried on. They had tried for a long, long time, but they failed. So, I stopped doing the seva for Mum, Dad and my brother. I started looking after myself. I was in the thick of my troubles with the awful orphan so if I had carried on the way I was - I would either be dead or in a psychiatric hospital. Yes, nisha would have been pleased but it wasn't to be; I was to live another day to do more seva. Yee haa!