Is there such a thing as fashionably early? WEll I'm early. That NEVER happens!
Mrs ten minutes late, thats me.
Not tonightm you see, I am at university (hiding in the IT lab) right now as ther eis what I hope will be a motivational everning ahead. So here I sit among the students who ar elikely to grafuate withj a first as I atten,pt to tpye (I'm used to a MAC keyboard) this little story in my little black dress
Jeez this dress has seen some action this year. This is what I call my funeral dress. Tonight I have dressed it down with boots and a jacket kind of like a blazer sort of thing and of course, the lanyard.
Sometimes I love my lanyard, its great to fiddle with and it also there are good days when it makes me feel 'part of something'. OTher days when I'm huffy, I wonder why we all need to be labelled as if we are in some clone country or soemting. Gosh my writing this evening, Im sensing this is how I would write if I had some wine, yet that rarely happens.
So today, here I am at something called Greenwich portraits where they reveal photos taken of amazing people who are real achievers in this university of mine. A few things they do really well here is plan stuff like this. SO I sense I am off for nibbles and a glass of soemthing in a flute and lots of happy smiles.
My anxiety is so much better than I can even begin to explain. Most days I feel like a different person. Like the person I wanted to be. PErhaps its my hormones#/? DR says I'm definitely in my menopause. IT seems to suit me. Maybe this will be my best time of my life... maybe this is what all the struggles were for.
Anyhow, it's almost 6pm and time for me to sass my way around the poshest, most beautiful room in uni....thanks for killing time with me these past ten minutes...x
Saturday 21 November 2020
Wednesday 18 November 2020
No sleep and then a presentation
Do I laugh or cry?
I'm unsure if this is a funny story to look back on or a tragic one. Let's try and keep it light and bright. Therefore, the information contained within here might well not be at all scienfic! For purposes of entertainment, there may be exaggeration.
So once again Mum was in casualty. It seems she might have some sort of issue going on with her brain which is no great surprise to me. Since losing Dad a year ago to a brain stem stroke, I kind of knew some of the signs.
All night long we were in casualty and I had no sleep. At all.
We had the 9am presentation and I had conversed with my chilled out partner Trev. We would go first. I left mum in accident and emergency and said I would be back as quickly as i could. This was important. It was for an exam. So off I went. Putting on a little lipstick along the way too! That was the best I could do.
Hoping for a good -pass, I was disappointed that we went to all that effort for a measly 63%. It was good enough, definitely one of the better results we had in the year but still.
Anyway, main thing is mum was ok when I got back. We got home later that day. Not much they can do for her...
I'm unsure if this is a funny story to look back on or a tragic one. Let's try and keep it light and bright. Therefore, the information contained within here might well not be at all scienfic! For purposes of entertainment, there may be exaggeration.
So once again Mum was in casualty. It seems she might have some sort of issue going on with her brain which is no great surprise to me. Since losing Dad a year ago to a brain stem stroke, I kind of knew some of the signs.
All night long we were in casualty and I had no sleep. At all.
We had the 9am presentation and I had conversed with my chilled out partner Trev. We would go first. I left mum in accident and emergency and said I would be back as quickly as i could. This was important. It was for an exam. So off I went. Putting on a little lipstick along the way too! That was the best I could do.
Hoping for a good -pass, I was disappointed that we went to all that effort for a measly 63%. It was good enough, definitely one of the better results we had in the year but still.
Anyway, main thing is mum was ok when I got back. We got home later that day. Not much they can do for her...
Tuesday 17 November 2020
Have I lost the will to study?
A looming essay on Barkers Hypothesis is calling me.
Apparently, my peers are suggesting there is a lot to this essay and we need to create 3000 words on it. So here I am procrastinating. Finding that I have so much else to do in the throes of buying and selling houses and creating myself a massive portfolio of properties which might actually mean this is my main source of income.
Perhaps alleviating the need to earn money from nutrition has brought me back to a place once again of struggling to find the passion in anything other than life and writing. I am still passionate about nutrition actually... A dietitian from the Westminster Hospital came and reminded us all of this yesterday. She was so engaging and interesting and a blinking nice lady.
Leaves me confused...
Ok so rewind, this post is going to take a turn...I just took a break to get my coffee and head off to the 'careers advice' workshop. Doubtless full of people learning how to behave in an interview etc? Anyway at the coffee shop I bumped into my Phd friend who I will call Alex. She was telling me how she has a few health struggles. I cut to the chase and asked if she thinks this might be because of university and the stress that goes with it.
"Oh definitely."
"So tell me something, if you could go back in time would you still do your phd?"
'Honestly?..." she paused, "No."
I smiled at this epiphany moment. We then went on to discuss what it is I would like to do in detail. Obviously she knows a lot about the implications of being credible and making sure I do my research. Yet her advice was priceless. We decided between us that I definitely do not need a Phd to undertake such a job.
Embarrassed to do so, I didn't go into the new news of me house buying and all that comes with it, including hopefully enough income to not have to worry too much about working. (Blessed.)
While I know I am in a position to grow my writing and reviewing business, I currently am also feeling very lucky to know this platform is already taking off to the level where I have enough faith that it can happen. I'm feeling encouraged and positive.
But I still need to write this essay on Barkers Hypothesis!
Apparently, my peers are suggesting there is a lot to this essay and we need to create 3000 words on it. So here I am procrastinating. Finding that I have so much else to do in the throes of buying and selling houses and creating myself a massive portfolio of properties which might actually mean this is my main source of income.
Perhaps alleviating the need to earn money from nutrition has brought me back to a place once again of struggling to find the passion in anything other than life and writing. I am still passionate about nutrition actually... A dietitian from the Westminster Hospital came and reminded us all of this yesterday. She was so engaging and interesting and a blinking nice lady.
Leaves me confused...
Ok so rewind, this post is going to take a turn...I just took a break to get my coffee and head off to the 'careers advice' workshop. Doubtless full of people learning how to behave in an interview etc? Anyway at the coffee shop I bumped into my Phd friend who I will call Alex. She was telling me how she has a few health struggles. I cut to the chase and asked if she thinks this might be because of university and the stress that goes with it.
"Oh definitely."
"So tell me something, if you could go back in time would you still do your phd?"
'Honestly?..." she paused, "No."
I smiled at this epiphany moment. We then went on to discuss what it is I would like to do in detail. Obviously she knows a lot about the implications of being credible and making sure I do my research. Yet her advice was priceless. We decided between us that I definitely do not need a Phd to undertake such a job.
Embarrassed to do so, I didn't go into the new news of me house buying and all that comes with it, including hopefully enough income to not have to worry too much about working. (Blessed.)
But I still need to write this essay on Barkers Hypothesis!
Saturday 14 November 2020
From Phd fantasy to wanting to quit!
Sounding like a total nutcase, feeling like one too, I'm going to share my thoughts and feelings on the past few days.
Spending a good couple of days really researching deeply the courses I might want to undertake next year onwards, I felt excited. The course material sounded interesting but then I realised the excitement comes from actually doing those bits of research and filling forms as opposed to the actual work. Procrastinating on my deadlines which were looming for the uni work I need to do here and now, I stumbled over my own thoughts.
Knowing that there will be one day soon when Mum has had her time on this earth, the twins are flying the nest and my life seems more empty, I felt excited to be pursuing a career path once again.
It didn't occur to me that I might well get that same feeling from doing the thing which is my dream.
So off i have trotted into the world of application forms and personal statements.
Imperial College London, one of the top universities in the world. Clinical Research Phd for me, Diabetes and Obesity. Ideal
Kings College London, Dietetics PgDip.
London Met, Dietetics Msc
Plus I have been already enrolled on a course at my own uni. A masters which is worth a few grand to me too.
This morning I left with a spring in my step. Feeling smart these days, loving my work.
Meeting Jasmine for lunch, more springing, despite the bad back.
Walking around uni to the tune of 'hi louise' and smiles and nods (my ambassador role introduces me to many people I otherwise wouldn't have met) I was feeling fantastic.
The afternoon lecture was about obesity. Great. I love this subject.
"Hey friends." I smiled at the Six Packs.
Have I told you about the six packs? There are six of us and we are tight. Close, helpful, loving and tight. A great group.
Understanding the subject, asking sensible questions, answering many questions, our lecturer made me frown inside as she kept referring to 'people of colour' which I was unsure was racist or not.
Then, forgetting he was one of our fellow classmates in year one, she referred to someone as morbidly obese and kind of sneered about the fact he didn't agree with doing pharmacology so left the uni. He was my friend He's now at Kings. Ha! Well I was inwardly 'letting this go' as I was giving her a pinch of salt.
At the end of the lecture she kept me back.
"How do you think your presentation went the other day?"
"Yeah ok."
She frowned and proceeded to tell me that I had insufficient evidence backing up my review and therefore would be very disappointed with my disastrous mark. I was struggling to hear this. Already I had dragged myself in with three slipped discs, a menopause going on and lots of pain all over. Some of which was caused by the massive amount of painkillers I had taken to get me through this. Not only did I: think I had done ok. I thought I had done WELL.
My peers had also congratulated me too.
I revised the subject for an entire day. To create a disaster.
The angle she was speaking to me had a feeling of 'you might as well give up now'. She asked if I was prepared to let anyone look at my next piece of work as it was so important to get a good mark and turn it around.
Devastated.
Erase Erase Erase. It would be wrong of me to critique her here. Unprofessional. Yet I feel a sense of something so different between her and me. Honestly.
Instantly I felt my mental health slip back into a place I hate, a place of uncertainty about myself, my worth, my worry that I must be a really awful person in order to attract such ugliness in my life...
Refusing to believe this is me and my mental health, i let tears flow instead. Silent crying.
Then come the thoughts of being alone and dealing with life. Being not good at dealing with life when the mental health dips.
Something I do know is I want to forget about becoming a Dr. Doing that Phd seems something so unimportant.
Could I retire next year? Simply continuing to write and make films for my living. Travelling. Maybe forgetting the entire food thing. Taking care of my mother who has dementia. Possibly fostering babies too. Making life more simple....
I just feel :I want to quit. To run. To make life simple and get to work on my back issue and definitely on my mental health. Going swimming, walking the dog, all these things....
Life feels like it needs to be lived yet I feel broken hearted for the person who has been attacked from the inside out. Yes, I'm sensitive, this is something I know. But its who I am.
Right away, I am back to that person who feels like a sad person. Alone. Sensitive.
Spending a good couple of days really researching deeply the courses I might want to undertake next year onwards, I felt excited. The course material sounded interesting but then I realised the excitement comes from actually doing those bits of research and filling forms as opposed to the actual work. Procrastinating on my deadlines which were looming for the uni work I need to do here and now, I stumbled over my own thoughts.
Knowing that there will be one day soon when Mum has had her time on this earth, the twins are flying the nest and my life seems more empty, I felt excited to be pursuing a career path once again.
It didn't occur to me that I might well get that same feeling from doing the thing which is my dream.
So off i have trotted into the world of application forms and personal statements.
Imperial College London, one of the top universities in the world. Clinical Research Phd for me, Diabetes and Obesity. Ideal
Kings College London, Dietetics PgDip.
London Met, Dietetics Msc
Plus I have been already enrolled on a course at my own uni. A masters which is worth a few grand to me too.
This morning I left with a spring in my step. Feeling smart these days, loving my work.
Meeting Jasmine for lunch, more springing, despite the bad back.
Walking around uni to the tune of 'hi louise' and smiles and nods (my ambassador role introduces me to many people I otherwise wouldn't have met) I was feeling fantastic.
The afternoon lecture was about obesity. Great. I love this subject.
"Hey friends." I smiled at the Six Packs.
Have I told you about the six packs? There are six of us and we are tight. Close, helpful, loving and tight. A great group.
Understanding the subject, asking sensible questions, answering many questions, our lecturer made me frown inside as she kept referring to 'people of colour' which I was unsure was racist or not.
Then, forgetting he was one of our fellow classmates in year one, she referred to someone as morbidly obese and kind of sneered about the fact he didn't agree with doing pharmacology so left the uni. He was my friend He's now at Kings. Ha! Well I was inwardly 'letting this go' as I was giving her a pinch of salt.
At the end of the lecture she kept me back.
"How do you think your presentation went the other day?"
"Yeah ok."
She frowned and proceeded to tell me that I had insufficient evidence backing up my review and therefore would be very disappointed with my disastrous mark. I was struggling to hear this. Already I had dragged myself in with three slipped discs, a menopause going on and lots of pain all over. Some of which was caused by the massive amount of painkillers I had taken to get me through this. Not only did I: think I had done ok. I thought I had done WELL.
My peers had also congratulated me too.
I revised the subject for an entire day. To create a disaster.
The angle she was speaking to me had a feeling of 'you might as well give up now'. She asked if I was prepared to let anyone look at my next piece of work as it was so important to get a good mark and turn it around.
Devastated.
Erase Erase Erase. It would be wrong of me to critique her here. Unprofessional. Yet I feel a sense of something so different between her and me. Honestly.
Instantly I felt my mental health slip back into a place I hate, a place of uncertainty about myself, my worth, my worry that I must be a really awful person in order to attract such ugliness in my life...
Refusing to believe this is me and my mental health, i let tears flow instead. Silent crying.
Then come the thoughts of being alone and dealing with life. Being not good at dealing with life when the mental health dips.
Something I do know is I want to forget about becoming a Dr. Doing that Phd seems something so unimportant.
Could I retire next year? Simply continuing to write and make films for my living. Travelling. Maybe forgetting the entire food thing. Taking care of my mother who has dementia. Possibly fostering babies too. Making life more simple....
I just feel :I want to quit. To run. To make life simple and get to work on my back issue and definitely on my mental health. Going swimming, walking the dog, all these things....
Life feels like it needs to be lived yet I feel broken hearted for the person who has been attacked from the inside out. Yes, I'm sensitive, this is something I know. But its who I am.
Right away, I am back to that person who feels like a sad person. Alone. Sensitive.
Tuesday 3 November 2020
Why I am an idiot!
So over on my personal (lifestyle) blog "Louise Usher" I generated a very powerful blog post which has gone very viral! On this post I wrote about my passions for travel, writing and all things Lusher Life. Now, this morning I have come into uni to work in the coffee shop as I know I will be much less distracted than at home.
2 hours to work on a project is a lot of time for me. I am amazingly fast it seems. Hope that doesn't mean I don't work well on it, but I get lots done.
Now I have spent these 2 hours researching blinking Phd courses and the like. Why? Why? Why?
Stop it Lou! Stop! Stop!
The post I wrote was full of clarity and I know what I want and why. Do I want to get up to a frosty train station and travel into London? Not really. Why do I even consider this? I know where I want my career to be and being unwell last week (did I tell you?) gave me total clarity that I was going to be someone who travels and reviews places to stay and eat with health issues, special diets and/or intolerances and allergies. Even if the said catering place doesn't pay for the review, this is something I can report back on Youtube and websites and generate revenue this way. Honestly, I hate to be so calculated but you need to earn a crust right?
Yes you do and I want to make life work for me in the best way possible which I believe is to travel and see some of the world. While having time to Yoga and sort out my health issues - I'm going to the gym tonight YAY!
I had a quick look at the student blogs on the place I was looking at online. A Phd student wrote about the impact on mental health while doing a Phd. Now would I go back in time and never join uni?
Probably.
If I had known how things were going to work out I expect it would have sounded like I had died and gone to hell.
Firstly there was the panic attacks, then the anti-depressant medication, coupled with hating the public, and public places. Having an issue (definitely mental health) with getting on a train and getting off again. Living with my curtains permanently closed in my house and being paranoid at so many levels.
Moving to a university closer to home was a good move. I like this uni. There are a few kind people. There are also some nasty buggers. This academic life is so competitive. I don't like that AT ALL.
Then we have Dad being so ill he was rushed to intensive care and we lost him a few days later, planning the most amazing funeral (this was my coping mechanism) and finally getting back to uni to catch up and just about pass that year. Wanting every day to go see Mum as I was so worried about her on her own.
A year later and mum is in the same intensive care with heart block. Seriously ill. Heart surgery. Me missing uni for pretty much 3 months.
One night we were in casualty all night long. We had a presentation to do at 9am. I left mum in casualty with my ex, dashed into uni, smashed it with the presentation, left immediately (missed about 2 hours of doing nothing in casualty) and sorted mum again.
Mum then had a dementia diagnosis.
Moved in with us. I slept on the sofa for months. We did a home made loft conversion. Mum got a room. I got a bed back.
All the while of course I am suffering with my back, my crohns.
Failing year 2 by just a couple of percent on one module. Retaking. Passing.
Divorce for me.
Teaching my twins to drive.
Buying many cars!
MY daughter being run off the road by a drunk on her first day driving.
Nightmares. All over.
Last week, apparently I was close to needing intestinal surgery. As I literally crawled into uni on my knees (not quite but you imagine) high on tramadol, the department head pretty much told me to pull myself together or apply for EC.
Nasty.
How have I survived? Honestly I don't know. Now. I feel I had clarity. I do have clarity. So why am I being drawn into this silly idea of becoming a Dr? The buzz? Surely there will be a better buzz by travelling the world? That's called living the dream, not becoming a Dr?
Focus Lou. Focus.
2 hours to work on a project is a lot of time for me. I am amazingly fast it seems. Hope that doesn't mean I don't work well on it, but I get lots done.
Now I have spent these 2 hours researching blinking Phd courses and the like. Why? Why? Why?
Stop it Lou! Stop! Stop!
The post I wrote was full of clarity and I know what I want and why. Do I want to get up to a frosty train station and travel into London? Not really. Why do I even consider this? I know where I want my career to be and being unwell last week (did I tell you?) gave me total clarity that I was going to be someone who travels and reviews places to stay and eat with health issues, special diets and/or intolerances and allergies. Even if the said catering place doesn't pay for the review, this is something I can report back on Youtube and websites and generate revenue this way. Honestly, I hate to be so calculated but you need to earn a crust right?
Yes you do and I want to make life work for me in the best way possible which I believe is to travel and see some of the world. While having time to Yoga and sort out my health issues - I'm going to the gym tonight YAY!
I had a quick look at the student blogs on the place I was looking at online. A Phd student wrote about the impact on mental health while doing a Phd. Now would I go back in time and never join uni?
Probably.
If I had known how things were going to work out I expect it would have sounded like I had died and gone to hell.
Firstly there was the panic attacks, then the anti-depressant medication, coupled with hating the public, and public places. Having an issue (definitely mental health) with getting on a train and getting off again. Living with my curtains permanently closed in my house and being paranoid at so many levels.
Moving to a university closer to home was a good move. I like this uni. There are a few kind people. There are also some nasty buggers. This academic life is so competitive. I don't like that AT ALL.
Then we have Dad being so ill he was rushed to intensive care and we lost him a few days later, planning the most amazing funeral (this was my coping mechanism) and finally getting back to uni to catch up and just about pass that year. Wanting every day to go see Mum as I was so worried about her on her own.
A year later and mum is in the same intensive care with heart block. Seriously ill. Heart surgery. Me missing uni for pretty much 3 months.
One night we were in casualty all night long. We had a presentation to do at 9am. I left mum in casualty with my ex, dashed into uni, smashed it with the presentation, left immediately (missed about 2 hours of doing nothing in casualty) and sorted mum again.
Mum then had a dementia diagnosis.
Moved in with us. I slept on the sofa for months. We did a home made loft conversion. Mum got a room. I got a bed back.
All the while of course I am suffering with my back, my crohns.
Failing year 2 by just a couple of percent on one module. Retaking. Passing.
Divorce for me.
Teaching my twins to drive.
Buying many cars!
MY daughter being run off the road by a drunk on her first day driving.
Nightmares. All over.
Last week, apparently I was close to needing intestinal surgery. As I literally crawled into uni on my knees (not quite but you imagine) high on tramadol, the department head pretty much told me to pull myself together or apply for EC.
Nasty.
How have I survived? Honestly I don't know. Now. I feel I had clarity. I do have clarity. So why am I being drawn into this silly idea of becoming a Dr? The buzz? Surely there will be a better buzz by travelling the world? That's called living the dream, not becoming a Dr?
Focus Lou. Focus.
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