So it's been a while since my last post because I some how managed to end up working two jobs during my winter vacation. It's pretty tiring because one job takes up all my weekday days, and then the other takes up my weeknights and weekends, which in total results in a pretty lame holiday.

But I'm staying positive, and I know working so much is keeping my mind away from missing my best friend, and from analysising every second of the time I spent with my crush. In fact, as much as I hate working so much, I'd say overal I'm happy, which is a rare thing for me to say.

What I am struggling with however, is my gluten intolerance. It has been 36 days since I became gluten free, and after a few accidental intakes of gluten it is definite that it has been the gluten that has been causing me so many problems. Problem is, one of my jobs is actually working with food, and of the entire menu, the only things I can have are the drinks. Now I realise I wouldn't be eating the food while I work there anyway, but I always get a little jealous watching the people I serve 'um' and 'ah' over the menu with the freedom to choose whatever they feel like, while I have to bring my own food with me.

I was thinking about this and how much it sucked while I was sitting at the train station on my way home, when a man in a wheel chair stopped next to me. It occured to me that he must have thought those thoughts a million times, "if only they knew how lucky they are". I imagine that he would gladly become gluten intolerant for the ability to walk.

I am gluten intolerant. Nothing is going to change that, so I might as well get over it.

As a kid, I had asthma, but was told by the doctors that I'd eventually out grow it although it might occasionally come back if I exercised in cold weather. For once the doctors were right and after many, many years of having no problems I assumed I had recovered completely.

Yesterday morning I went out in the double (two people in one boat rowing) for the first time, as I'm in a single and double for a regatta this weekend. I was pretty nervous but everything seemed to be going ok. Once we'd done the warm up, we stopped while the coach was talking to us and for a moment forgot about balancing the boat. We started to tip and frantically tried to regain balance but it was too late, we knew we were going into the water, and there was nothing we could do about it.

Being in the water it took me a moment to realise that I wasn't just going to float up to the top, because my feet were tied to the now underwater boat. I untied myself and surfaced, checked the other girl was ok as well and then had to attempt to find the oars, flip the boat and climb back in. When I was back in the boat I was obviously soaked, and at sub-zero degrees was frozen. I had noticed a tightness in my chest but had decided that was normal considering I had just been dunked in the river, in winter at 6am.

That evening I went to land training where we use rowing machines. We did pieces of 1500m and had planned to do a total of 5. After the first one I was breathing heavily as everyone does after a lot of exercise but then realised it was because I couldn't breath properly, not because I was tired. I left after the first piece and went back, trying to catch my breath but unable to, I felt nausieous and was terrified.

When I got home my dad asked why I had come home early and I told him. He looked so disappointed. I know it really meant the world to him that I was rowing, because he had been a successfull rower, and with no sons he was kinda relying on me to take after him. For the first time he told me that if I didn't like it, I could give it up.

I don't know who I was kidding when I thought I could do this. I've never been sporty, I've never been good at anything. Starting rowing was the stupidest thing I have ever done, because I'm setting myself up to get hurt, but it goes against my personality to give up. I've grown so attached to the people I row with that I don't want to leave them, but I don't want to let them down.

I look at the water and I feel sick to my stomach. I'm so afraid that I'll fall in. I'm so afraid that I'll stop breathing. I'm so afraid that I can't do this.

My name is not one of those names that is easily shorted, and unlike a name such as Jessica, it is not common for people to use the shortened form of my name. My name is more like Rachel, some close friends use Rach, but most people use Rachel (no my name isn't Rachel...). The few people who call me by the shortened version of my name are my sister, my best friend, my oldest friend and my coach, everyone else calls me by the long version of my name.

I was at rowing the other morning and was sitting in front of a girl who does rather annoy me. Anyway, we were all a bit out of time and she hit me up the back with her oar and apologised, addressing me with the shortened version of my name. Aside from knowing her just a few weeks, I don't consider this girl my friend, and was almost stunned that she took it upon herself to call me that.

A few days later my sisters boyfriend was standing in the living room when I got home. I've only met him once before (my parents don't like him so he very rarely comes to our house) and the first time he met me he called me by the wrong name completely. I greeted him as I walked through to my room and he once again called me by the wrong name. I smiled and corrected him, and laughed to let him know I didn't hate him for having a crappy memory and it was no big deal.

The next time I saw him he called me by the shortened version of my name.

I know it may not seem like such a big deal to those of you who usually shorten your name, but it is a big deal for someone to call me that, because aside from me liking the full version, I feel like they need my permission to call me something else. I never mention anything, but it really bothers me. How do you guys feel about this?