Autumn’s approach

The nights are drawing in, and it feels right to have a Custard Cream to dunk into a cup of tea – a sure sign that Autumn is getting closer. I’ve missed the whole of the Summer pretty much, which is weird, as whilst it’s my least favourite season, it still needs to be there so I can appreciate the others all the more.
As it stands, I’ve got a niggly cold, which isn’t causing me hell as much as a bunch of irritation, as sneezing hurts because I’m not moving around as much so tends to throw my joints out (and occasionally, back in).
Add to that an ear infection, which isn’t bothering me in the slightest, but I know is there thanks to it trying to spread to my jaw (which happens 9/10 times I get an issue). Hopefully I’ve caught it early enough, and am plying it with ibuprofen in order to prevent a golf ball appearing on my jaw, and tomorrow I’ll add honey and lemon to it. And hopefully lots of garlic too.

I’m a little disappointed, as I’ve just weaned myself off all the painkillers – tramadol especially, as that stuff can be evil. I’ve been put on it for a length of time twice. The first time, in 2012 was fine; I’d been warned not to come off it cold turkey – especially as I was on the max dose, so I halved it, then halved it again, and came off over a couple of weeks without any real problems.
This time, I had to be more careful. A couple of weeks ago, I missed ONE dose, as I’d slept in, meaning my last dose was due around 3am, and I’d fallen asleep around 12am and had slept right through, which was long enough for it to come entirely out of my system, and I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck! I thought I’d got the flu, as I’d got jelly shaky legs, as well as that prickly crawling sensation you get when the blankets move. It wasn’t until a few hours later that I’d worked out what had happened, and I knew I needed to start reducing sooner rather than later, as the longer I took them, the worse it would be. So I did it over a few days, given I’d already flushed it from my system in that instance. I’ve had a week without that and the paracetamol, and the pain isn’t completely gone, but it’s tolerable without, and if I need to I can always take some paracetamol.

The only thing I’m still taking after discharge is Asprin, which I’ll need to do for a year minimum, if not for life. As much as I don’t like taking pills of any kind (the pill being the exception, as mine is amazing, and stops those issues entirely) that one I can deal with – it’s not for pain, it’s to keep the blood supply in check, I think as much for the bypass as for the leg that’s now missing it’s Saphenous Vein to provide it.
No blood clots or complications for me thankyou very much!!

At the moment, I’m on wait and see for the torn cruciates, due to the complications making operating to repair a Very Bad Idea(tm), which means another two months of the knee brace (which is a cast below and above the knee with a hinge on both sides of the knee, which essentially controls the amount of bend I can have, and stops me from twisting it) but on the plus side, the consultant is happy to increase the amount of bend (previously limited to 90degrees) and is also happy for me to begin to bear weight on it as well, so it’s at least in the right direction.
So come Tuesday, I’ll be getting a new cast whatever, as they need to amend the hinges. They also need to remove it so I can have an ultrasound scan of my knee and lower leg to check the bypass is all OK, so that’s also a good thing, as apparently I’m losing weight, which has made the cast loose. This one is currently being held together by velcro as they’ve cut two inches out last time, and it’s now loose again… >.>

The advantage of this happening, means that I should hopefully be able to get in and out of a car now, which we’ll hopefully test next week as well. And if I manage to secure a chair somehow, then I might even manage to make it out to the comic event at Doncaster on Sunday. Not that I’ll be able to buy anything, as I don’t have any money coming in other than my statutory sick which (given my Housing Benefit claim may well be denied) won’t cover even the essentials.

I am beginning to feel horribly cooped up and hemmed in now.
I’ve never been one to just sit around, whether inside or outside, and I’m really starting to feel the strain, both mentally and physically. I may joke about it, but my bottom is REALLY starting to hurt now, because I can’t walk, I’m constantly laying or sitting on it. Aside from the respite I get when I lay on my side, which I can only do for a short time because the weight of the cast on my good leg starts to get too much, and also get pain in my hip.

I’m also starting to feel rather bored. It’s hard not to get frustrated at the situation, especially when there’s lots going on around and you’re unable to do anything to help, but there’s also only so much of something you can do. Going to try and get stuck into some crafts, and also got a couple of Online Learning things to do, but they’ll only take up a couple of hours a day, and week, respectively. I’ve also applied for some work from home stuff – writing and proofing mostly, but it could be weeks until I hear from them….

Usually at this time of year, I’d have been out and gathered fruits that were ripening and be baking crumbles, cobblers, and strudels, as well as breads and all kinds of autumnal goodness. But this year, it looks like I’ll be settling for a Custard Cream to dunk in my tea…

Advertisements

An Update.

Summer is ending.

I haven’t really seen that much of it this year. 5 Weeks in a hospital bed, 2 weeks in a hospital bed, but not in a hospital.

I tried posting a couple of weeks ago, about a day, but WordPress lost the post, and didn’t even save a draft copy, which was annoying.

So instead I come to post again.

I don’t know if I’ve changed much in the while since the accident. People tell me I’ve lost weight, and maybe I have, but that’s just a bonus really. I’ve done what I always do, which is to take things as they come, after all, once they’ve happened, I can’t change that. All I can do is get on with it. So since this injury, which according to the consultant and medical journals is classed as “life-altering” I’ve just gotten on with it.  From waking up with an external fixator on my leg, and being told it would be there for six weeks, and would need a second operation the day after to fix the artery which was damaged beyond repair, to being told the frame would be taken off a little early due to the recurrence of an infection in the pin site, to the realisation that Iwouldn’t be able to go home after getting out, or for some time after that.

I’ve had moments of being angry, definitely. At myself, at the hospital for not diagnosing me correctly to begin with, at the hospital for being stuck in an environment which does nothing but destroy your spirit and will. At objects being in the way, or out of reach even, but those moments have passed quickly, and I’ve instead made the best of it.

There’s frustration too, a hell of a lot of that. Mostly for the simple things I can no longer do without help. I can’t just get up and go get a drink if I’m thirsty, or go to the toilet unaided. If it’s not within my immediate reach I have to ask for help. THAT is frustrating, especially for someone as independent as I am. But I know that it will pass. I may never be able to run again, maybe I won’t be able to walk any kind of distance anymore – which in itself, for me, would be soul-destroying, but at the end of the day I’ve survived, and I’ve made it through this event.

I see people around me getting frustrated – I don’t necessarily have a lot else I can do – and when people come to see me, I can often see what else is going on, and I  know full well, there are lots of people who are having their own battles with their own frustrations at the moment. I can’t say anything though a lot of the time, because unless you can accept that you are struggling, angry, frustrated, annoyed, or anything, then you are stuck there. Whether you’re convinced that you can’t handle much more because you’re trying so hard to keep everything going, or if it’s because you’re trying to be strong for someone else who is fighting their own demons. Whether it’s that you’re not moving forwards with work as quickly as you’d like, or that a business is going through a dry patch. Until you actually accept that, you’re not going to be able to move yourself out of it at all.

And that can be the hardest thing in the world.

It’s only when you do this you can plan – when you can accept that you’re terrified of flying because you’re scared of heights, or enclosed spaces, you can begin to work to overcome that, starting small, and working up to something challenging – of if you accept that it’s a dry patch in your business – you can begin to look at alternative strategies for marketing – adding something new, or networking, just to discover it’s not just you. The thing is you’re never as alone as you think, but unless you communicate that, you’ll be stuck in the dark shady world of can’t, and noone else can get you out of there.

I certainly don’t have all the answers, far from it. I get frustrated over not being able to do stuff every day, multiple times a day, but I do see what other people go through and feel and think, and wish they could be as pragmatic as I am sometimes. But we’re all different, and that’s a good thing. We all have different strengths, skills and weaknesses, and the right combination of friends will cover all bases – and you never know, if you actually acknowledge your struggle, there’ll be others struggling too, and probably someone who is able to help. But you have to take that step. And sometimes the hardest thing of all is waiting for someone to realise that for themselves, and knowing until then, there’s nothing that you can do.

 

I’ve got a long hard road ahead of me and it will be full of frustrations, and at times, it will feel impossible, like I can’t possibly do it all, but it will just be temporary, and I’m lucky to have people around who are able to remind me of that when I stumble and fall. And I will be that person for those I care about as much as I am able, but the one thing I cannot counter from experience is pride.

 

but that’s another story for another day. I just wish people were able to lay it aside and admit when they’re struggling before things blow up and come to a head. Then the rest of us can help.

What we have here….is failure…. to communicate….

I’ve found it hard to write recently.

Mostly down to lack of time, as when I do feel able to write, I’m inevitably in no position to be able to do so. Then if I do sit down, there are no words. Something that happens a lot lately.

I’ve learnt and realised an awful lot of late. Too much to list. Some of the things I don’t know I know yet… but I know them… if that makes sense?

And I’ve been the busiest I’ve ever been between students and other commitments, work, and those I care for. I knew that it would be a struggle, but all of a sudden, mid June, and the end is in sight. I’d joked a while ago that I’d scheduled the weekend everything finishes as being the weekend I fall apart and break down. I’m not sure that isn’t too far from the truth to be honest. More and more I feel weighed down physically as well as in other ways by the weights I tend to bear. The world would probably be an exaggeration, but sometimes isn’t too far off.  The thing is that balances out the forces pushing outwards from the inside. Well, that’s usually the case. There’s an imbalance of late. Which is why I’m feeling it more. Maybe I will need to look at both sides to try and sort them out.  I’m still finding myself unable to express myself, and to speak about things, or write, or anything really when it comes to some things. I’m beginning to understand that a little more on that front I think… and it was always going to be an issue at some point – I found my sneaky little birth chart going through some papers yesterday and re-read it and for the first time realised just how… different I am in some ways to others. Most of the charts I see are generally spread over a few things. Mine isn’t. At some point I might post it up… but I think come mid-June, there will be changes made.

Recently started helping a very very good friend, who has helped me a lot of late. It’s nice to be able to reciprocate in some small way as I like being able to show I care by being able to help, not just so I retain a modicum of usefulness and therefore a reason to be kept around…so this is good.  Reminded me I have stuff I need to sort too. And of course we have some plans made,  short, medium and longer term..and it’s kinda nice to have a partner in crime and things to look forwards to.

First thing I need to do though, ultimately is get through the door that’s appeared and has been making itself more and more known of late. Just let me get to mid June first… or at least a point where I get enough time to actually spend looking at it….and then deal with the inability to talk…. and then… well… there’s a whole list. But one thing at a time eh?

 

time to fade away… it’s better than burning out.

On a good day I sometimes see myself as a fixer. I turn up, facilitate what is needed, whether it’s networking, encouragement, revealing a truth, or something practical…storm in a teacup if you like, and once the ripples settle, and things are moving the way they should, it’s time for me to move on. Little bit like Nanny MacPhee I guess… (!)

Today is not a good day.

Today I see myself as the hindrance to progress. I notice that I remove myself from the picture and things go better. Days like today it’s very hard to fight the idea that maybe I would be better off removed. That maybe I’m holding people back from their progress by being around.

Mostly though I’m angry. At myself more than anything. For listening, and for not listening. For pushing myself that bit too far, when I should have listened to the voice telling me to turn tail and flee. I’m angry at everything the last day or so though, and I DON’T like that. Last night I was hesitant about venturing into town because of St Patrick’s day, and the potential crowds and rowdiness.
I’d spoken to a friend about it, who’d said I should try to see my friends and not worry too much about what might not even happen. So I sucked it up and decided to go. I didn’t even have to get into town before encountering what I didn’t want to meet. They got on the bus. But, I decided I would push through and be able to calm down and would be OK. What I should have done, was got off the bus and turned around and gone home. Instead, I managed to calm down a bit, got the admin I needed to do out of the way, and realised that I wasn’t feeling brave enough to really talk to anyone. I ignored another point where I could have chosen to go home. Instead, telling myself it’ll be OK… and then some rather loud people got to playing some game, which set me right on edge again…and it was all downhill from that point. I came across as awkward, and I don’t know what… because I ended up feeling a bit interrogated when I asked a question, which made me want to RUN. I sat on it, but I was glad to be able to escape, and that isn’t right. I went home and went to bed. Not even an episode of QI helped, so I went to bed.

I woke up again covered in bruises. Second day in a row, although not the same place this time. Yesterday I’d blatantly been held down by the chest, as I can make out the handprints (there’s no way I could have done it to myself without removing my arms and switching them round… ) this morning, it’s my arms and shoulders that are suffering. Thank goodness for long-sleeved tops is all I’ll say about coming to work today. I don’t know what has happened while I’ve been sleeping – I remember struggling against being pinned and the bed being a mess upon waking up, so obviously been tossing/turning/writhing, but who or what I’ve been rallying against, I don’t have a clue. I’m not sure I want to either to be honest, although I also don’t want it to continue either. Ironic really, that normally I’m wanting to not remember what I dream about, that the one time it might be a good idea to have a clue is the one time I don’t. I’ll admit to being a bit uneasy about it, maybe even a little scared.

It’s certainly not the first time that what has happened in my dreams has spread into the real world, and it’s not even the worst occurances. The worst was being sliced in the ribs by a sword in my dream, and waking up to find my side opened up – 6″ long and a good half inch deep. No blood or anything, and nothing I could have done it on. And witnessed. I’ve woken up covered in scratches across my face and arms from being raked by claws, when I have no nails able to do that. And I’ve had bruises before I have a photo of the giant one in the middle of my back which a friend had found after I’d complained of back pain. A couple of weeks ago, I had a scar appear on my right arm overnight, including the ridge. The ridge has gone, but the scar is still there, and if I’d had the corresponding injury to it, I would have known. Why it happens, and why it comes through to waking life, I don’t know. Wish I did! I’d like to understand it… but this feels different. I can’t explain why or how, maybe it’s because there is a definite handprint, or maybe it was the feeling of being pinned down and the panic associated with that, I don’t know…. but there is a point where it starts to sound a little crazy, even to me. And I think this is getting to that point. I don’t have a clue where to begin as to understanding it, let alone being able to do something about it… any any suggestions would be welcomed, cause I’ll consider anything as an option, even that I’m just losing my sanity. I’m sure plenty think that… and maybe they are right. I don’t know… but this is a bit odd, even for me…. are alarm bells ringing for anyone else??

Sara’s Choice.

First off, I apologise if this doesn’t make as much sense as it might.

I haven’t slept yet, and words are not massively forthcoming as it is, but I need to man up and just get on.

Currently, I’m at a crossroads. Unfortunately there isn’t a path I can choose which won’t present a problem.

I could choose to go backwards. That’s a no go in itself. I know what lies there. Nope.

To the sides lie the people I love and care a lot about. Problem with this is that because I have dared to do this, I am afraid they’ll be hurt.

On one side, I could choose to walk away, which would prevent them from being inevitably hurt and disappointed when they eventually work out just what a shitstorm of a mess I am and what happens to those I care about. Something I can’t let happen anymore.  On the other side, I could stay, and wait to be discovered. To be seen for the fraud I am.  I could also go straight ahead… where I crumble and show just how fragile and broken I am… and wait for everyone to run. And I would wholeheartedly understand their reasoning to it as well.

Logically I know someone will probably point out the fact that I haven’t considered the other option… that actually, they won’t and it will be OK. I have to accept that there is a possibility, otherwise I’d be as much of a zealot as the creationists. But it’s not something I can see, or believe. And that in itself saddens me. Because for EVERYTHING I have fought for over the last two years… I still can’t grasp that. And I’m honestly not sure I ever will. I’ve taken down a lot of the walls I’ve put up over a very long time, but there’s still a huge amount to go, and aside from my own concerns that I lack the strength and the will and the ability to get there.

I know I’m not explaining any of this well at all. But I need to try.

This choice is nigh on impossible for me.  But I know I can’t escape it. I’m not thinking about the path of least resistance either. What I’m thinking about is what will cause the least damage. I’d rather sacrifice myself in favour of those I care about. They are worth it- I am not. That’s the way that I see it. And I *hope* (because whatever else, hope, cruel mistress that she is will always remain) that I can change things so maybe I can see what others see that I am blind to. For now, the best I can do is accept that others have their opinion, which is a lot more objective than mine, and that if I respect their opinion then I have to give just cause and consideration to that.

So I guess the path I need to take is to move forwards. And hope against everything I KNOW so far, and accepting that I don’t yet know everything, that I am wrong. Because I’m not sure I can walk this path alone, the others, yes. But not this one. Because I need to smash what’s left to smithereens before I can make any salvage from the ruins. And that’s something I can’t do by myself, let alone anything that follows.

I guess this is me asking for help. Not sure who what or how, but I’m at the limit of what I am able to do on my own I think.

But I also need to try and maintain a bit of perspective. And remember that actually I would NEVER have considered that I might even be in this position one day. So to be here and having to consider all of this is in itself, a victory.  I also need to try and remember that not everyone is actually out solely for their own gain. That there are other people who care as much as I do about people they care about.

I also need to remember that actually, every time I cry, every time I have to stop and think about something and reconsider whether or not it’s right to dismiss it out of hand or consider that there may be a point. Every time that I feel, it’s another chink in armour that was built with the intention of NEVER failing. Armour that *needs* to be broken.

At the moment, I want to just retreat into the numbness and the nothingness but I know I can’t do that indefinitely. I hate being so mistrusting and suspicious of everything, and I hate myself for being so stuck. I don’t use that word often, but it’s the right word for this. I don’t want to.. and that’s where the battle is. Because I know I’m not at the bottom yet, and those people who for whatever reason do actually give a stuff will have to deal with that, and they don’t deserve to.

 

I’m stuck running round my own head again at the moment. Kinda glad my student today has cancelled. Maybe I will be able to just go sit in the park for a while, or go for a walk in an effort to quieten the torrent somewhat. Maybe I should just let it spill… I don’t know.

Answers on a postcard I guess…

It’s not all gloom and doom!

I realised this morning that I probably sound pretty morose of late… I’m actually not, which has surprised me as much as anyone I think. Sure, I definitely feel like crawling into a corner and avoiding everything and everyone until this is over, but I’m also above all else, a realist. I know that things don’t happen at convenient moments, and don’t fit neatly into boxes. I can’t retire from life just because my past has come back to give me a good kick up the arse again.

So I get on with things. I get up, get a shower, and I go to work. I try to make sure to eat, sleep (where I’m allowed) and exercise, and get things done. Counting my regular job plus tutoring (and travel) I work a 52 hour week on average, so if nothing else I’m busy. And that’s not a bad thing as long as I stick to my rules.  First rule is Monday nights are my night off. Even if I end up doing housework, chores or mundane house stuff, as long as I’m not planning lessons or thinking about work stuff, that’s OK.  Second rule is no work at weekends unless I’m being paid extra. I might not always have mega-exciting stuff planned, but even I know I can’t be all go, all the time. Third rule is plan social stuff. Even if it’s just meeting a friend for coffee and a chat. I have the capability to go weeks without seeing anyone outside of work, but it’s not a good idea to do so.

Very simple rules that will hopefully serve me well. I’ve been sticking to them since I decided them, so no complaints really.

In terms of eating – weekdays I have a little bit of porridge in a morning with a banana and some seeds mixed in, and soup for lunch. Teatime varies. Weekends is a lot more relaxed. This seems to be working well, as I’ve lost an inch and a half off my back (as a bra that was too tight now fits, and tshirts are slightly less pronounced around the chesticle area) and definitely a few kilograms. Now I just need to get into a routine with the exercise again. A friend has some chair exercises I can do at work, and also looking into sorting a specific workout I can boot up and do in a morning for 10 mins after stretches.

So I’m definitely not being idle, and if nothing else, feeling the way I do tends to drive me to being mega organised and efficient. Who said a touch of type A personality is a bad thing!! Overall, I’m just trying to take things as they come, and where I can’t believe things, just accept that those who have said them believe it in the hope that I can then move towards believing it too.

The Void – (Probably one of the most thought through posts I’ll write)

That sounds kind of bad really, but I don’t sit and think about my posts when I write them usually. I have a tendency to overthink and overanalyse at the best of times, and so to sit and think about what I want to say when I’m purely writing to get stuff out of my head into a format that’s communicable and as a memory to myself would be severely counterproductive… that being said, this post has had a fair bit of thought.

I started trying to write about this the other day, and stopped, because it was sounding a bit melodramatic and a bit incredulous, however as the week has gone on, I’ve remembered more and more just what experiencing this can be like, and I need to get this out and down, if only to serve as a reminder to myself for the future just why I *need* to deal with this.  Today, I got some stuff written by pen and paper about it and I’m hoping that a third time will be the charm, so to speak.

There have been many times when I’ve gone to try and explain what I’m feeling, or thinking, and I just can’t. Words choke in my throat before they have a chance to be vocalised, I feel like if I go any further then something Really Really Bad will happen.” Anxiety!” is the answer to come from anyone who thinks they know anything’s lips. Perhaps, in part, definitely. The fact that I believe I’m worth less than the scrapings from someone’s shoe, and don’t deserve, let alone am allowed to be able to discuss myself in anyway definitely contributes to feeling anxious, definitely, but there’s more to it than that..  and it’s a feeling that I get at other times as well – usually when I’m feeling raw and vulnerable. Something I’ve been feeling especially over the last couple of weeks. When it isn’t related to my attempts to express myself, it tends to start quietly, building up to a tumultuous roar that refuses to back down or go away.  Always located in the same place. Only once have I been able to do anything with it other than bury it, and that very nearly broke me.  I call it ‘The Void’ And the best way I can explain it is as follows:

Imagine a bottle – a wine bottle is probably best for this. Like all good vessels it is there for storing things. In this instance, it’s the place you put all of the crap that you don’t know how, or don’t want, or can’t deal with. As more happens, more stuff is added, but that’s OK, because it’s a strong bottle, and it’s contents are compressing nicely, and there’s plenty of room, so you add more and more stuff to it – not consciously, not deliberately, and you probably don’t even realise it’s what you’re doing. But the more that goes in, the greater the pressure gets. As the different things get more compacted, they begin to combine, and to form one big thing instead of lots of smaller things, and you could swear, sometimes that it was beginning to look back at you when you went to check the bottle… so you do the only thing you can think of. You seal the bottle and try and forget about it.

It even works for a while. You get the breathing space to begin to learn how to actually deal with situations you never should have had to experience, so not so much goes into the other bottle, and you keep on top of that… and you go about life… until one day…  you can feel a weird sensation in your chest, almost like something is squirming around. You pay it a little attention and it dies down, apparently sated, and you carry on, but before long, it comes back, and you find that isn’t enough, and that the writhing increases, and with it, you swear you can feel claws… so you push back… and once more, it dies down for a while… Eventually, you manage to block out the sensation, but what’s left is somehow worse, and you feel like there is a black hole at your core, threatening to suck every part of you into it. Empty. Black. Nothingness. Acknowledging it only  brings the feeling back. The tearing, clawing writhing feeling that is going to rip you apart from the inside before spilling out into everything you are,taking you and everything and everyone you care about with it. The pain with it is real, but you know it isn’t caused by anything physical. Explaining it sounds crazy, to the point that when you stop and think about it, you’re not even sure it’s possible… and you find yourself physically pushing it back down constantly, because if you stop, then that’s it. You don’t know if there’ll be anything left. You find yourself wishing that you could show someone what you feel, but you’re also sure that if you took someone else’s hand and placed it over that spot of both nothingness and screaming agony, they would feel nothing. But you would feel a little better. You’ve seen that happen before. And so instead, you find yourself holding yourself together, pushing it back in, back down, physically sometimes, because you’re afraid of what would happen if you let it take it’s course. That there would be nothing left to recover. You tried uncorking the bottle once before- it was open for seconds, before you jammed it back in and you lost yourself for days … and it took someone else coming to find you curled up in a corner sobbing uncontrollable and literally holding you for three *hours* until you regained enough wits to stop feeling nothing but the pain and to realise that you were still there.

The thing is… I *know* that this needs to come out. The contents of my bottle are not pretty, hurt like hell, and probably have a vendetta against me for being shut away for so long. But it meant I survived. It meant I could continue. In my bottle is all the stuff I remember, the things that haunt me in my nightmares. The things I’m remembering somewhere inside, when I look like I’m daydreaming. the things I don’t remember because they’re too much, my own self hatred, guilt and everything else I’ve taken on because ultimately I feel like it’s all my fault. The bottle is cracking under the pressure, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it together, and I can’t risk a volcano erupting, and people being injured in the fallout. Enough people have been hurt because of my existance.

Thing is, I just don’t know what to do… I don’t know if there *is* a safe way of starting to siphon some of this off, and keep my sense of self, let alone my sanity intact. But I know I have to do something. And time is starting to run away. from me. I can’t ask anyone to help pick up whats left either. It’s unfair on them. This is a mess of my own making, even though I know that I simply did what I had to do to survive then. These are the consequences of that. And I fully admit that frankly, I’m fucking terrified.  But I’m more terrified of not being able to control it.

I think this is a good definition of stuck between a rock and a hard place. I just wish I had a clue as to where I could go…or what to do…