Yep, it's November. Oops. Babble below has now been corrected (thanks Dan). I don't know if it's just me, but it feels like this year has really flown by..!

So I'm feeling a bit better thank you. Al made the mistake of asking how I was on Monday... and I told him. At length. Oops.

He was gobsmacked. That's the bit I forget, if I just told people I was struggling, they'd be falling over themselves to offer help. But instead I just carry on, being awkward and stubborn and making myself ill. He gave me a lift home on Monday, and Euan rewarded him with an enforced viewing of the Nutcracker Prince, current favourite DVD. Al also gave me a lift home on Tuesday, via the supermarket, where I picked up a few essentials and an apple pie. Non-essential but I reckoned it was about time for a treat. I felt daft for not asking sooner, and grateful that I had an easy journey home to look forward to on the days I most needed it.

Colin was able to give me lifts to and from work for the rest of the week, which helped my flexi and my stress levels. It's not that I have a problem with buses specifically. I quite enjoy sitting there listening to music and absorbed in my own little world, but it's the waiting, the weather and unreliability I don't like.

Oh, and the news this week is that my job won't exist in a few years, because as part of the reduction in staff that HMRC have to achieve most of our work is being centralised. So I've got to wait and see whether we're all being transferred to Liverpool - if it takes me an hour to get to Wrexham, I'm lucky enough to be outside the "reasonable travelling time" bracket so they can't force me - so I can stay in Wrexham, and transfer to Processing. Oh God no. So I'll stay in Debt Management, hold out for the Re-Skilling bursaries they're hinting at, see whether it's worthwhile and consider my options. Knowing my employers, I suspect the timescale will be extended a few times anyway, and their original plans will be altered until unrecognisable, so there's no point stressing yet. I think it's going to be all about finding the right time to jump, when they're getting worried and throwing money at people to leave.

Went for lunch with Andrea on Thursday, after she had popped to Woolies for a new coat for Ethan while I got my boot re-heeled again. Timpson's had done it the previous day and it had already fallen off. The nice chap fixed it for me and explained why it hadn't worked. I forget the detail, but he did use the phrase, "You've got the biggest size of hole, you see," which I thought was quite rude.

I went to a funeral on Friday - that phrase usually elicits a vaguely concerned and sympathetic expression from people, until I explain that I didn't know the deceased personally, and I was just going for support. I didn't mention in my last babble, but while I was off work Steve's friend Daz popped round - his Dad had died and he had to get into the flat, but Coedpoeth police station was unmanned, so with nothing else to do until they came back he rang Cuffy, who said he was round at the Missus' place. If you see what I mean. So we went to the funeral too, and it was packed. I recognised loads of people from the shops, the buses, just generally wandering around the village. Who knows, I might even have known Daz's dad by sight if nothing else. It would have been insensitive to ask if anyone had a photo though...

At least it meant Lynne (a.k.a. "Daz's missus") got to meet me, albeit in odd circumstances. Steve said she used to pester him to get a girlfriend, then when he did she wanted to meet me, and know all about me... I asked what he told her. He smiled and said, "As little as possible." She seemed very nice.

And yesterday was spent meeting Dan and Mum and going for a wander around a garden centre. Pleasant, especially as Uncle Dan helpfully kept Euan in check for me. I was feeling a bit panic attacky. It's nice to be with someone who understands, so that when I go, "Mmm, got to walk away now," he nods and keeps an eye on Euan until my head stops spinning.

Sorry!

I haven't stopped babbling, it's just that I'm doing more of it verbally and less of it here. It hasn't helped that since the last Babble, my optimism about the plumbing was misplaced and I spent over a week with no water or heating, and my panic attacks have come back resulting in a week off work.

The above may or may not be related.

In addition, Simon's had a bit of a crisis. About a week after payday, he ran out of money, and couldn't get into work. It would help if he didn't drink so much. He was pleading for money, but I just said I'd give him train tickets. Then he said he was out of food too. So I said I'd take him shopping. Oh, and he had no gas. So I said he should bring his gas card with him. He said it would be simpler to give him petrol money, I said he could take or leave the train tickets, because if he doesn't turn up for work, he's run out of chances with them.

It may seem like I was being deliberately awkward and not helping a friend in need, but let's just say this isn't the first time this has happened, and I know what happens when Simon has cash.

He got a lift in. I bought him a week's worth of food, put £20 on his gas card, and he was so ill (two days cold turkey because he couldn't afford booze) that the doctor signed him off for 2 weeks. Transport problem solved, for now. Within two days, I was getting stupid texts and phone calls at 3am. Again. As if I'm not disturbed enough by the cat and Euan, and their midnight wanderings.

He was after more food and gas, because he said he'd been a bit greedy. A bit??? I'm also supporting me and the sprog here! All that food and heat used in two days? Couldn't he just wear an extra jumper? So I told him off for being so irresponsible, told him to grow up, told him I could reason more with Euan because at least he had some concept of cause-and-effect, and said the only way he would get any more help out of me was if he started taking some personal responsibility.

He promised he would. Of course, he didn't. I had to turn my phone off at 4am, just to get some sleep. Some other friend has been cajoled into buying him drink, so I'm washing my hands of him until he's prepared to be honest with himself. Argh. He's got a heart of gold, but it's being dragged around by alcohol.

Other stuff: The plumbing nightmare. My house is so old, the pipes caused trouble. In fact, the catalogue of problems, solutions which caused more problems, chaos and inconvenience was so distressing I'd rather not go through it all. It wasn't fun. But it's fixed now. I have new taps and a new sink, and I just have to finish the grouting and get it all sealed.

(Admittedly, if I raise the shower head above shoulder height, the water stops. Believe me, compared to all the other crap, this is a minor problem. I don't care. I'll just sit under it to do my hair.)

I've done some more work on Euan's room, and it's getting more like a jungle. There's a green curtain to go through (vines, of course, with a little imagination) and his new night-light is a funky glass leafy one. Once I've finally cleared out all the stuff that's waiting to go to the tip, I can put stuff away properly, and then I plan to paint more animals on his walls. Eventually. No rush. I certainly don't need any more pressure.

Ah yes, pressure. And panic attacks. They first hit me two years ago. I didn't know what was happening, the doctor was dismissive, and it took me a while to work out what was wrong. Then I spent Christmas feeling so weak that just eating a simple meal would mean I had to go and sleep. I couldn't stand up for long periods of time. My head felt fuzzy, I felt sick a lot, and I hid away from New Year. But that was the worst bit. It got better after that.

They hit every so often, and they're difficult to describe but it's getting to be an unpleasantly familiar feeling. My head and neck go tingly, and my eyes feel dry. I can't remember how to breathe. Stop breathing in yet? Is that deep enough? Am I getting enough oxygen, or am I getting too much now? Don't want to over-breathe and get that numb feeling again. Where's the "reset to automatic" on your lungs? And the really odd bloated feeling, like you need a really big fart. But you don't. It feels like your insides are trying to get out. And the woozy dizziness. Especially in a shop or noisy place. Too much information! Everyone shut up! Turn off the lights! Too much going on, everyone stand still, everything just stop for a few minutes! My brain doesn't like all this stuff it's being bombarded with.

I want to scream and get out but I know I need to stay calm. "Panic" is the wrong word. Panic doesn't describe the feeling that you're about to collapse because your legs have gone weak, you feel nauseous, your head is being crushed from your eyebrows up, and your hair has abandoned its roots and is crawling all over your scalp. That's not panic. That's a very real physical feeling that some kind of demon has grabbed you and is trying to pull you inside out... and all around you, people carry on as normal, brushing past - DON'T TOUCH ME - and shouting at their kids - SHUT UP THE LOT OF YOU - and there's nowhere to go because HOME is suddenly a very long way away and a bus ride is an insurmountable obstacle.

If there's someone with you, their concern will be met with the shortest, snappiest response possible because talking interferes with breathing. To try and explain this part, allow me to outline an example. I was feeling the onset of an attack in the local shop, so I headed quickly for the checkout. Steve said, "Didn't you want bread?" to which I replied, "Yesbuttheydon'thavetherightsort." So he said, "But Euan will want his Lion Jam on toast tomorrow, so you'll need some. Which sort did you want?"

"Sliced whole&white."
"What about a bloomer? Or a half tin loaf? Do you want wholemeal or white?"
"Dunno, feel ill."
"I'm only trying to help. Do you want me to leave you alone?"
"Don't know! Sorry! Can't cope!"
"Should I pick one up then?"
"Don't know. You choose."

I was having enough trouble keeping my mind off the fact that I was in a queue, and the checkout lady was moving in slow motion, and she was joking with the customer, who was putting his money away so slowly it felt deliberate. Couldn't they see I needed to finish and run? Couldn't they see how ill I was feeling? I couldn't cope with questions about bread too!

Poor Steve. He picked up a loaf of bread, and as a result Euan's breakfast the next day went smoothly. And I found it very difficult to explain my odd behaviour to Steve. The absence of the bread I wanted had triggered the attack. Everything felt wrong, the world was out to get me, and I couldn't stand there and compare the other breads, because it was all wrong. My brain refused to even take in any more information, so the array of WRONG bread just upset me.

OK. I've just read that back. I will completely understand if instead of clarifying the feeling, it just convinces people I'm a nutter. But that's the feeling. It's like someone's taken my brain off the hook.

So. The first one of this new batch got me in town. I'd been good and gone in early, instead of arriving just as the shops are thinking about closing. So the unexpected onset of a panic attack in the cute little Cook Shop was very unwelcome. I politely got out. I walked down the street, feeling daft. I went into T J Hughes. I forget why. The attack came back. I felt awful. I got a drink of water in the cafe, and a cuppa. I sat down. Everything was too bright, too loud, too close. (It's a big shop, and I had a table to myself with space around it, but the whole point is your perception goes crazy.) I phoned Steve, as interaction and normal talking sometimes helps. It helped, after about ten minutes. But he suggested I get a bite to eat, and I said I couldn't - the overloaded feeling extends to eating too. Can't eat, I'll suffocate or explode!

So he talked me down. I sipped my tea. I felt stupid, but most of all I felt annoyed that the attacks were trying to send me running home on the first day I try Christmas shopping. Of course, that's part of it. When I first had panic attacks, I couldn't get buses for ages because the first one happened on a bus. Shops are bad, because they're a frequent trigger. If I've had a drink the night before it makes me more likely to get them. The unstoppable approach of Christmas is an absolute bastard for causing them.

So maybe I shouldn't have gone Christmas shopping by bus...

Anyway. The main point is that I got over it, and had a productive day. And felt proud of myself for tackling it head-on and not letting it control me. So I felt optimistic about getting everything sorted out properly this year.

And then on the Monday I started my new job, and that same week the plumbing started. Great. With hindsight, it's not very surprising that I've just spent a week off work curled up in a metaphorical foetal ball screaming, "MAKE IT ALL STOP!!!"

The new job is (theoretically) OK. But in practice so far it's been a big bag of steaming shit. The training I've had - all thirty minutes of it - barely covered the basics. The information site on the Intranet is as much use as a chocolate diet book. My computer keeps kicking me out of the Tax Credits screens, which are coincidentally the exact same screens I need to look at. IT support are now centralised and incompetent. And my manager comes over to check how I'm getting on because I sit miles away from the rest of the team, and it feels like he's checking up or criticising, even though I know he's not. And I'm not allowed to keep up with my Class 2 NIC cases because now I've cleared the backlog they're no longer a priority, so they've also taken away the one area I had responsibility and pride in.

So my days were running as follows:
3:00 Phone call from Simon. Ignore.
3:04 Phone call from Simon. Ignore.
3:08 Text: "Some friend you are. Thanks a lot." Turn off phone.
4:30 Cat scratches door for food. Downstairs to push him out of catflap.
5:20 Euan goes to toilet and asks if it's morning yet.
6:50 Euan's wide awake. Get him breakfast.
7:30 My alarm goes off...
8:45 Give Steve cuppa, go to school.
9:00 Drop Euan off.
9:25 Bus turns up.
9:45 Get to work. Feel like I've already run a marathon.
10:00 Manager asks how it's going. (Repeat every couple of hours.)
10:30 Computer kicks me out. (Repeat every half hour.)
11:00 Phone IT Service Centre. Repeat every time I can be bothered.
11:20 I come across a case I don't know what to do with. There is no guidance available. (Repeat throughout day.)
12:30 Lunch. At my desk.
14:00 Quietly try and do some Class 2 work so it doesn't all get dropped.
15:30 Someone asks me about CSSC. I agreed to help people keep in touch when they left! As in, an external email list! I am not the new face of Wrexham CSSC and I do not have the time or energy to organise anything! And I don't know why Lorraine's not answering her mobile!!
16:00 Give up trying to make computer work, get chocolate. Lots of.
17:10 Leave for the bus, losing flexi but have to collect Euan by 6pm.
18:00 Collect Euan.
18:15 Go shopping for essentials. Nothing too heavy.
18:30 Get home. Feed animals. Feed Euan.
19:30 Bedtime routine for Euan.
20:00 Eat. Wash up. Laundry. Tidy up. Open post. Check emails.
20:30 Do grouting or whatever needs doing tonight.
22:00 Steve gets dropped off.
22:15 Cuddle up on sofa with a cuppa.
22:17 Start snoring.
01:30 Steve wakes me to go to bed.

That's a worst-case scenario. But most days have elements of it. And weekends are spent sleeping. There's just no room for manoeuvre. It's very constrictive. And I can't just "pop" anywhere to sort things out, or to shop, because buses mean that every trip is an expedition.

So this week, I have been trying to reset my head.

Off work, so I've been sorting out some of the things I never get time to do normally. And I've even rediscovered what it's like to just be able to sit still. It's very nice.

I've stopped shouting at Euan so much, and I've stopped crying at Steve so much. I've been smiling without being told, "Smile." It's been a really good week.

I just don't want to go back, because it's so obvious that it's bad for me, but I can't stay off forever. And I have the joy of the Back-to-Work interview to look forward to. Do I take the easy option and say I had a cold, or do I try and convey the feeling of terror that came over me when I contemplated getting on a bus?

I know what that would cause. That Look. The "Oh great, she's a neurotic psycho. I'll just humour her and write it down. Why can't she pull herself together?"

Yet again, I haven't won the Euromillions rollover, so it looks like the office beckons.