Good grief that took longer than I'd like...

 Just spent ages going round in circles to get back into my blogger. So yeah, long story short, GooglePlus became a thing and I transferred everything over there. Five years later, GooglePlus shut down and deleted everything, and now my personal history has a great big gap in it - as do many of the posts here, apparently, because they've also lost loads of my images. So I lost my temper with Google and hid over on Facebook for a few years. I still don't trust Google, but honestly, I don't trust Facebook to keep my memories that well either, and Blogspot is still alive, so chances are they're not likely to bin it any time soon. 

Most of the OG dragons have passed away - all at decent ages, I should say; Hyphen was well over a decade, even as the walking carcrash he was. I'm currently caring for five dragons: Jacques (OG), Bob, Frank (OG), Monty and Duuder. (Pictured: Frank) Frank has double cataracts and is basically a glacier in lizard form. Regularly looks dead, isn't actually. 

So, since I last wrote in, what, 2014? I can't remember whether I was still at the bank, or whether I'd already told my boss "You don't pay me enough to be this miserable" and walked out. He told me I got "city rates" and I clarified "No, you're not listening. You don't pay me enough to be this miserable."

I walked straight into a job at Currys, didn't have a clue what I was doing, and after a few months got right into my stride and eventually became one of the best computer specialists out there - Diamond Grade Intel Professional (only about 50 in the world), Microsoft Champion (pioneering the new retail project and the Everest Project), a Microsoft Gold Elite (one of the very first in the world, now considered to be a global leader training programme), a Google Retail Master and a bunch of other stuff - and demon of PLC. PLC was like, a computing convention we would get sent to every year, and I brought back the gold medal/top score for Grimsby every year. Turns out I have a competitive streak a mile wide! Still proud I got asked to take two turns when our team was one down - I did my team good. Politely declined promotion to management three times. 

Meanwhile, turned out I was autistic all along. Who know? (Not me, but apparently everyone else lol!)
Oh, and I bust my leg playing rollerderby, so that was fun. Six weeks off, and a bright pink cast. 

Annnnnnd then COVID hit in 2020. Things got real weird. Like, really weird. I'd recently been given a promotion to business advisor and landed some hefty sales (so I could get my weekends back and more stable working shifts - all I'd ever wanted, and a little pay bump!) but suddenly there was weird rumours going round. We were furloughed, and the rumours continued for months, with the BA's being the last to be brought back in. Where's my desk? Shop floor and weekends? What? So yeah, long story short, they were getting rid of all the middle management, and that included business advisors. My boss tried damned hard, but was struggling to get any guarantees for hours (and even then, it would only have been 30, when I was working 40), and this went back and forth for weeks. I was already having some serious mental health issues due to the anxiety, the uncertainty, the trying to work with COVID, the customers not doing basic required rules stuff... I don't entirely remember what happened, but something went very, very wrong. I ended up in the server room dissociating, hyperventilating and non-verbal again for about an hour, which... isn't a huge pile of fun or very practical. I've had panic attacks before, but these are a whole new level. Apparently it's part of the fun of being an autistic. I went home, I got signed off for extreme stress and tried to hold it together for a few weeks while my boss tried to come up with a more concrete contract. The company then realised they were getting rid of qualified staff only a few months before Christmas, and offered to graciously "extend" our redundancy til January. (Pictured, Monty)

I quit there and then.

"But Amber, that doesn't make sense..." I hear you think.
Eh. I had been dangled about for literal months by this time, and they wanted us to work the worst time of year in the worst working conditions I've ever known (and I've cleaned toilets at a plant hire firm!) and then after they were done with us, just lob us out in January? It was an insult on top of multiple lacerations. Nah. Nah mate. I wasn't risking having another breakdown, because if I'd taken the extension to January and then had to leave, I'd have forfeited my redundancy. I'm autistic, not unintelligent. I took the pittance they offered and off I went. Didn't get any gifts or a card, but eh, no real surprise - I still haven't forgiven them for going to someone else's house instead of my wedding. (I've made much, much better friends since then, I'm glad to say. Knowing yourself makes a world of difference!)

Anyway, I was just in time to leap onto a university course (two weeks late) in psychotherapy, got my student loans and maintenance loans in about 24 hours flat, and have been doing that for the last year. As part of my work, I'm seeing a great therapist.

Probably a good job too - during COVID, in no particular order, I got made redundant, had a massive blowup argument with my biological father (and am now disowned), lost two grandparents and my lovely neighbour, my husband nearly died and my parents got divorced. Jesus. Sounds a bit bleak when I summarise it like that. 

In fairness, I'd hit my limit with what I could do at Currys and I pretty much left on a high (and won an £899 laptop at the last PLC). 

I'm not sure where I am over cutting ties with my biofather - the first time he got in touch with me spontaneously, of his own accord, unprompted, in over ten years was when I broke my leg. I'd always been the one to reach out (and rarely got replies anyway) *shrugs* I know I'm bad at communication, but it goes both ways, yknow? I do know that it was the healthy thing to do after he used MY photo to make a political point about COVID (and putting grandparents at risk, which I most certainly was not!), without asking me, without TELLING me, and trying to make out it wasn't a big deal, it's not like he named me after all so what's the problem?
Yeah. Quite.
It's still up on his Facebook. I'm still angry about it.
I was already unhappy about a bunch of other stuff with him, but that was ... cruel and thoughtless, bordering on malicious. To clarify, he's never shared a photo of me before. He didn't tell me he was proud of me for going to uni, no, instead used me as a poster child for getting people killed. 

My husband is okay though - oh heck, that's a point, yeah, I got married in 2015(?). That won't be on here either! Yeah, the funny guy I was dating early on in this blog, I'm now married to. We bought a house together. Wild, huh? 

He had atrial fibrillation, passed out and cracked his head open on the bath. They cardioverted him (zapped him with the hearty restarty - tech move, switched him off and back on again!), stuck his eyebrow back together, and he's not had another episode in about 12 months, so we're out of the main danger zone. 

My grandmother died on my birthday, same as my grandad did seven years prior (she always did like a BOGOF, and why have two days for people to be unhappy? Heh.) Rich and I stood to say a word at the funeral as requested. We said "Plethora!" and sat back down. My brother called out "Thanks, that means a lot." 

My other grandfather had been ill for a long time, so it wasn't unexpected. I am pleased that we gave him a chuckle when we nipped into the hospital to see him - I told him that the sealegs had skipped a generation, his grandson was a better boatsman than his son. I was told by the staff at the funeral that I shouldn't be there, but if I stood at the back of the room, it'd be fine... I was... unimpressed. I was named in the eulogy for goodness sake - someone else had snuck in and stolen my seat while I was holding the door for the rest of the family!

ANYWAY. I intend to do both of them proud; Nan B cared for so, so many people in her years of service as the vicar (and before), while Grandad G had worked in child services for decades. I looked up to them, respected them deeply, and will work hard to honour them. 

I think that's most of the big stuff covered. I'm tired and late for ukulele practice. (Thanks Grandad P!)