Moving on.

I trained as a Primary School teacher at Waikato University. I thoroughly enjoyed it and absolutely loved my first job at Berkley Intermediate (now Middle school) in Hamilton. I then left on my OE in 1996 and ended up teaching in London as a supply teacher. Much of it I enjoyed, however nowhere near as much as my New Zealand experience. Upon moving to France I found myself teaching English to adults, then Lycée and College with the odd primary school intervention. Besides the primary lessons I absolutely hated my experiences. My love of teaching was gone.

After my son N's death, teaching college kids became extremely hard. So many things triggered sudden and extreme sadness; a pair of glasses, a haircut, a look or expression. The list goes on. I'd often have to fight off tears in the middle of a lesson. I couldn't do it any longer.

After being hospitalised for 6 months in 2014/2015 coping with depression, bipolar and PTSD, I gave up teaching. I have done a few relieving stints which are OK, however I'm not allowed to earn too much while on my invalidity allowance. So, I know give English lessons to Adults, Lycée, College and primary kids. I currently have 8 lessons a week and it keeps the old brain ticking over.

In hindsight, without knowing where my life would lead, I chose the wrong career. It's so hard to retrain at the age of 48 here in France. I doubt that my brain could deal with it anyway. I wish that I'd got in to computer science or something similar.

In the meantime my lessons keep me ticking over. I hope to land some more lessons too.

What a bitter sweet thing hindsight is. 

Ink.

I'm currently checking out Breton/Celtic tattoo designs for my next ink. It won't be for awhile, but it's nice to have an objective. What do you think of these?

I love the Tree of Life. Definetly getting that when I get some dosh, after saving for a trip home to New Zealand and being able to contribute to G's education, guitar and theatre lessons; something the I'm unable to do at the moment.

Today's a new day.

Some more bullet points summing up my day. I've decided to write the majority of my pen & paper diary in this fashion too.

• Good, refreshing drug induced sleep.
• Message to my SiL in Brisbane wishing her a happy 50th.
• Blog post.
• Senseo coffee.
• Waiting for a cheque to clear so that I can get petrol & eat!
• Spotify. Currently The Police.
• No lunch. Buggered if I'm going to eat fish again. Have grown gills and fins.
• Lesson preparation for this afternoon.

To be continued...

Bucket list. A work in progress.

• Ride the Nantes/Brest cycle track (funnily enough, this may require a bike).
• Live in New Zealand again some day, possibly when retired,although I wish to be buried in France with my boy.
• Go to an NFL match hopefully featuring the Seattle Seahawks (match coming up on 14 October this year in London).
• Visit: USA, Canada, Italy, Spain (again), Croatia, all of the Scandanavian countries, Crete, South Africa, & a return trip to Turkey. Extensive tour of Australia.
• Ride in a hot air balloon.
• Skydive.
• Full sleeve tattoo (currently in the planning & financing stage).
• Be financially secure so that I can leave money and assets to my son.
• Own a dog.
• Attend an entire Rugby World Cup from pool matches to quarters, semis and final, not just random matches as in 3 previous RWCs.
• Own my own house. Bit of a pipe dream there.
• Perfect my French.

To be continued &/or edited.

Randomness...

Random stuff to sum up my day so far.

• Awake at 1.30am.
• Medication.
• Cappuccinos.
• Emails, Twitter & Facebook fix.
• Scrabble on Facebook.
• Visit from the nurse. 6 weeks and counting.
• Spinning Vinyl.
• Spotify.
• Cable tidy up.
• PH@TT menu copied for step 3.
• English lesson preparation.
• Text from Mum telling me she'll send her Hot Cross bun recipes.
• Typo on Twitter calling Hot Cross buns bums. Whakama.
• Received STAR WARS figurines. #PeterPanSyndrome
• Received Lighthouse stamp album full of world stamps. Sorting & soaking awaits.
• Messenger chats with my boy.

What will the evening hold?

Update:

• English lesson with hyperactive kids. 
• An hour on the PS3. Note to self: save for a PS4. 
• Hot water bottle. Beware boiling water! 
• Harry Potter audio book. 
• Cocoon. 
• Reading Two Brothers by Ben Elton accompanied by Rainy Mood (for background noise). 
• Cuppa Yorkshire Tea. 

Voila. My day. 

Fatty.

I put on a lot of weight after the death of our son. There were several reasons for that. I was heavily medicated and had been put on Lithium, amongst other medicines, for my bipolar. I'm sure that there is a link between this medication and weight gain. I certainly noticed a rapid change in my weight.

After the initial stages of grief, where I didn't really want to eat anything at all, I did start to eat somewhat in excess. My ex-wife pointed out to me the other day that I did eat a lot of meat. I never really noticed. I was a serial grazer and always had my head in the fridge. It was comfort food no doubt.

I've always been a bloke who enjoys a beer, no doubt a victim of the rugby, racing and beer mentality found in New Zealand. That, however, is not an excuse. Of course after the death of my son I started to drink more. I fucked up on more than one occassion and was not proud of myself. What's more, drinking while on medication was not a good look. I still enjoy a beer however now drink in moderation. I've only had about 10 beers since Christmas; probably one reason for my weight-loss.

When we separated, and later divorced, I found myself living alone. That was when I really started eating poorly. Despite a love of cooking, which disappeared after the death of N, it was so easy to buy prepared meals, pizzas, quiches etc. Not good. My favourite jeans and other clothes no longer fit me. Being on a limited budget it was very difficult to buy new clothes. That invariably saw me wearing clothes that just made me feel like shit. I didn't feel good about myself.

Enough was enough. A friend back home in New Zealand had started a diet called PH@TT (Putting Health at the Top) and was getting simply amazing results. She became my mentor for the diet and I started in November 2017. I admit to stopping over Christmas. There was no way I was going to miss the festive food. I started at 135 kgs. At weigh-in this morning I was down to 110.4 kgs!

However the PH@TT diet is not only for weight loss. It also has a remarkable affect on mental health. You think clearly and are full of energy...I've even started doing housework in the bachelor pad. Hell has frozen over!

I'm supposed to start step 3 of the program this coming Saturday, known as maintenance, however may extend step 2 for another week as I try to get my weight down as close to 100 kgs as possible.

I'm feeling good. Watch this space.

Scorched!

Well, I did a bloody stupid thing. I knocked over a pot of boiling water (don't ask me how) and burnt my foot. Second degree burns. A none too pleasant feeling to go with it. I am feeling decidedly sorry for myself. It's not really possible to walk a helluva lot. I hobble to the little boys' room and into the kitchen to make a cuppa, but the rest of the time is spent lying on the sofa. Feel free to feel sorry for me. I have a nurse coming every day for 3 weeks to change the dressing and have been looked after by my ex-wife. She even bought me some special slippers. 👍

So, I'm making the most of my last days havin Netflix and catching up on the Super Rugby that I recorded over the weekend. And of course I'm spinning some vinyl. I also have a packet of crosswords from my Mum in New Zealand to get through. She regularly sends me a selection of crosswords, code crackers and cartoons from the Northern Advocate.

So there's not a helluva lot of interesting things happening chez moi. Suffering terribly. Man pain.

Bouncing back.

It's strange how rapidly the thoughts and mood of someone with Bipolar can change. Since my last post, when I was down, things have been on the up. This was especially noticeable this afternoon on my way to give an English lesson when I loved looking at the countryside and felt content to live in France (let alone be French). Such stark contrast to a couple of days ago.

These drastic mood swings can be a right pain in the arse. You never know if you're Arthur or Martha and what the reality is. I know that the real me is the bouyant, happy part of me, and yet when I'm down I know that this is part of me too. Thanks Bipolar type 2.

Happy, happy, joy, joy thoughts include being proud of the progress I've made with my diet. I'm bordering on a 20kg weight loss. 15kg more to go. I'm enjoying working again even if it is only part time. It's helping me keep my head above water after 3 years struggling big time with finances, not helped by my spending sprees; blame that on the Bipolar too. I've basically got that under control now, so long may it continue. I'm still borderline but much better off than before...touch wood (don't need to have to buy new tyres or anything).

Loving my vinyl collection. I allow myself 1 new purchase a month. Cheap as if you know where to look. It's always a bit of a gamble as to whether the record is scratched to fuck or not, but so far I've been lucky (touch some more wood). My latest purchase was Aqualung my Jethro Tull. Noice. When I listen to it I always think about passing by Ian Anderson's salmon farm on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Odd. Reading wise, to be honest my concentration hasn't been the best over the last couple of days but I try hard to read a chapter or two a night. I don't force myself; forcing oneself is not a pleasuable reading experience. I need books that really stimulate my imagination and are exciting or full of suspense. Any suggestions?

Right now it's time to do some lesson planning, cook a dietic dinner (poached chicken and ratatouille), crank up some sounds and then settle back to watch something on Netflix (which I've cancelled in lieu of Canal+ for the Super Rugby from Downunder. I'll subscribe again if finances allow), or an NFL replay on YouTube. Cancelled lesson in the morning so I'm allowed to stay up late!

Ka kite ano.

Dip in form.

This weekend has seen me doing it tough. I've been really down; homesick, fear & unbearable sadness. It's tough and at times you doubt that you'll ever come out the other side, or even if you want to.

I climbed into bed at 4.30pm today. My cocoon. I feel better now, no doubt due to the drugs mixed with a generous dollop of Harry Potter; my saviour.  I've found a 5€ note so should be able to get to work tomorrow, otherwise I'll have to forego work until 5 March due to lack of funds; à horrible situation to be in.

I'm going to watch Midsomer Murders or an NFL match now to try and buoy the spirits.

Tomorrow is a new day. May it please be a good one.