drawn to those ones that ain't afraid

I'm really not good with change. One of the precursors, perhaps even catalysts, to my last psychotic break was shifting offices - the entire company moved across town to a newer, fancier office space which was my very idea of hideousness. Our old building was opposite a park, walking distance to the comfort of retail outlets and various cafes, and the office layout was cubicle style. I shared my cubicle with people I almost-liked. Then we moved to a street shared with a brothel and a methadone clinic where our entire company was set out over one huge floor, in open-plan setting, and my desk was adjacent to a couple of the loudest, most irritating telephonists and also near enough that I could overhear every critical comment directed at me from the woman known as the Notorious B.I.T.C.H. My paranoia, OCD, introversion, hysteria and the like escalated to the point that within a month I could no longer do my job and was put on medical leave (never to return).

I guess my point is that I need to make sure I'm doing okay with this new massive change in my life. Loneliness and abstract terror aside, am I managing to readjust and get in to some kind of groove? On the plus side, I am in good therapy now and have working medication (unlike prior to my breakdown when the huge dose of sertraline I was taking was making things worse rather than better). On the negative, I don't really have any stability in other areas of my life - although I've been at my job for 7 months now (can you believe how fast time passes??) I still feel like most people there consider me at worst a destructive influence, at best a hard-working annoyance. I'm determined to work at it, and stay there, because it's proving to be a great way to work through some of my Borderline issues and tendencies. But it's not the most comforting place to be and consequently I'm in a state of unease (disease? lol) at home as well as at work.

Knowing all this, and being self-aware and mindful (love that DBT), I believe I can claw my way to a state of security and calm. In some ways, the odds are probably against it, but one thing the odds don't take into account is my sheer bloody-mindedness haha!! I swear, that is more powerful than any medication or therapy for getting me through hell and high water. I simply refuse to let my illness, other people, fate, Satan, or what-ever beat me down. Dylan Thomas would say "rage, rage against the dying of the light", P!nk would say "don't let me get me". I like to quote the game show and shout NO DEAL.

dressed like a punk you were too young to remember

Had a great session with Doc A on Thursday, where I rambled about my babyish fears and feelings of separation anxiety from my family, and he made the predictable, yet accurate, statements about the challenges of individuation and such. I sometimes think that my main gain from therapy is the validation, which seems so irritating because it's a basic service I shouldn't need to pay $250 an hour for, and for which Doc A needn't have studied for ten years! I could have just recorded my own voice on a tape recorder saying "you are fine, you are okay, yes you have reasons to be angry, yes it's okay to feel sad". Aaargh. I'm kidding, really, I know there's more to it and that the work I'm doing with Doc A has helped my Ego gain control over the rampaging Id and all that Jungian palaver. In the end, I can say 100% that therapy is worth the effort and the financial outlay - I'm "better" with it than without it I guess. That's what it comes down to with medication, too. If I function more effectively, and feel happier and more peaceful on fluoxetine and amisulpride, then I'll keep taking it.

In other news, I had a brief reawakening of my mojo a couple of weeks ago, brought about by a flirtatious afternoon with my 18-year-old coworker Logan. Innappropriate, who me?? It's interesting to me that I could actually FEEL myself becoming BPD-ish, and more importantly could head my obsessive fantasies off at the pass, as if they were runaway brumbies lol. He's a lovely lad, and if I was twenty (or even ten haha!) years younger I'd give it a red hot go, but really - even I know where to draw the line. Logan is the only man who works for the Foundation, and Michelle said to me maybe I'd fixated on him because I missed male company and Logan was the only male in my environment... Probably true! I'm not exactly falling over blokes in my current life. Most of the time I don't want one (a bloke that is), but sometimes it's nice to imagine. I'm relieved that my fancying Logan was a short and sweet moment in time, rather than a long drawn-out obsessive crush like that last two workmates I flirted with. Maybe I really AM becoming well??

(Belle & Sebastian provide today's song lyric - "I'm a Cuckoo")

and i hate elevator music...the way we fight

I'm a big, fat, bawling, slack-jawed baby.

I miss having a fully-stocked fridge and pantry.
I hate having to add up in my head how much it costs to buy cheese AND crackers.

I miss air-conditioning.
I hate having to grovel to property managers about broken ceiling fans.

I miss green garden beds and roses.
I hate stupid weeds and overgrown garden mess.

I miss my mom cooking three nights a week.
I hate having to organise my own meals every damn day.

I miss window locks and safety screens.
I hate worrying about thieves, rapists and murderers.

I miss my dog and my other cat.
I miss the swimming pool.
I miss having the internet and email at home.
I miss someone noticing if I'm too sick to get out of bed.

There are plenty of things I don't miss about living with my family. Notably, the extra 2 hours bus transport every day. But it's a massive adjustment, and sometimes I catch myself in the mindset that it's a temporary move, as if I'm on vacation somewhere alone and will end up back in the family home before long. Of course, that's not true, nor do I WANT it to be true.

I guess I'm just waiting for time to pass, and for it to seem normal/acceptable/okay that I am lacking all those things listed above. I know it will happen. Meantime I'm Cliche-Girl - keeping my chin determinedly up, soldiering on, hanging in there, waiting to exhale...