After 14 months I can now, once again, tell the difference between a Monday and a Sunday, between a Wednesday and a Saturday without the aid of Home and Away.  I am employed.  I have a wage.  I have a life.  I have friends.  And I finally have an appointment with a counsellor to discuss my depression.  Do I still need to see a counsellor?  According to the mood evaluation sheet... NO.  But I won't complain that I'm feeling more cheerful.  I won't complain that I'm being paid to spend time with other human beings and talk on a phone all day.  And I certainly won't complain that for the first time in my life I am in the cool group.

Am I in my dream job?  Not quite.  But what is my dream job?  I still want to be an interior designer.  But I love insurance.  Could the two be more opposite?  I may only be spending my days chatting on the phone selling insurance but after 8 years of chasing my design dream I feel open, free and excited at the thought of the winding paths towards a career.  After a year of soul destruction, dwindling confidence and low self-esteem I am back on form at top of the class with 100% on all 3 of my assessments.  I have slipped right back in to my role of teachers pet as if I never left... does make me wonder if life-long education would be the path to happiness and enlightenment, but who wants to spend millions and never earn a penny?

Thursday night was the night for me to face my fears of giving blood.  The fears had subsided, I was feeling like the bravest of the brave, I could take on anything.  Then I walked in the room.  Was I donating blood to an emergency room of car crash victims?  I had prepared myself for blood.  I had prepared myself for needles.  I did not prepare myself for the layout of the room.  I was a bit shaky but no-one has ever conquered a fear by running in the opposite direction.  And did I mention I was looking for a few karma points?  So I bravely had my finger pricked, the multi-vitamins with iron did their job and I was sent on to stage two.  It was at this stage when the realisation set in.  First to go was the breathing, I was breathing twice as much as my lungs were asking for.  My heart began pounding hard enough for them to just remove it from my chest and squeeze the blood out quickly and easily.  I had pins and needles.  I was shaking.  Before I knew it I was in the middle of a panic attack and being led to my own little bed hidden by a screen.  Luckily I had the mother with me for support.  Unluckily though I got the nurse with the worst bedside manner I have ever known.  Did he make me feel calm?  No, he made me feel angry.  I wanted to do a good thing.  I honestly didn't see such a reaction on its way.  I felt like I was wasting his time.  He was intensifying my panic attack with his 'calming' words.  I still think I could have done it.  Before he spoke to me all I had was slightly intense breathing, had he taken me to donate I would have looked away and got on with it.  But now I will never know, I now have a fear a lot worse than before.

Its three weeks since I saw the boyfriend.  And he still isn't here now.  He won't be here until next week.  From the intention of spending extra this week with him, to spending none. I am currently living for the weekday; an enjoyable sociable distraction, one that I get paid to enjoy.  As soon as my week begins again though, I can finally live for the weekend again, to get to see the handsome man that I get to call my boyfriend.  But for this weekend I'm going to tuck up with a film, and spend tomorrow following the football scores and swotting up for my final assessment on Tuesday.  The problem with being a star pupil is there is always extra pressure to keep up the standard.  But I won't lie, I love being the knowledgeable swot type.