empty rooms that echo as I climb the stairs

Last week my grandfather died. We had the funeral yesterday, and it was - as these things go - fairly bearable. He was 90, and had "a good innings" as they say. Was rarely ill, and widely loved, and will be missed. After the funeral we went back to what was his and my grandmother's house for a few beers (which he would have approved of!) and made a circle around what was always "his" chair. No-one wanted to sit there, but eventually the size of the crowd and the age of most of those attending, meant that seats were at a premium and one or another of us sat there for the rest of the afternoon. It's weird, but I think a lot of older folk, especially grandads, have "their" chair.

My family is a bit of a divorce/separation/abandonment minefield. Both my stepdad and his brother have been divorced and remarried (the latter four times). There are kids, stepkids and halfsies. Though I considered him my grandfather, and called him Grandpa for almost 35 years, we weren't blood related. He's my stepfather's Dad. My stepfather came to live with us when I was 4/5 and never left, eventually marrying my mum in 1994. To do this, my stepdad left his own two children (a boy and a girl, the same ages as me and my younger brother). My father ended up moving in with my stepdad's ex and there was a few years of "Wife Swap" going on for real...ugh...I feel tacky and 70s-influenced just thinking about it. Anyhow, I raise the topic because it's relevant to what went on yesterday. My stepdad has only seen his son Rob a couple of times in his life, last time being 25-odd years ago, although he has (and the rest of us have too) re-established a fairly nice relationship with his daughter. Rob could not forgive as easily as his sister, I guess, which is reminiscent of my own brother who has never seen our father since his abandonment.

Yesterday, Rob showed up at the funeral, having caught a three hour flight. He recently made contact with my grandparents, closing the gap that had existed for so many years - I think having his own two kids had made him sentimental perhaps and wonder about his grandparents. But he still hadn't seen my stepdad - until yesterday. It was a massive, major shock to see him. I thought my stepdad was going to faint (literally). He said to me it was more shocking and upsetting than his father passing away. But in the end, it turned out brilliantly. We all hung out with Rob and he chatted with everyone. I commend him for turning up like that, coming into a potentially hostile (or at the least uncomfortable) atmosphere. Really great bloke, who I like a lot. I hope we get to stay in touch more now that he's made the effort to heal our family's rift. I wondered if my brother started to get ideas about his own father... though he knows that I've given up on that relationship.

It really got me thinking about how rarely I saw my grandpa, but how easy it was to love him, and how little I see of my nanna (Mum's mother) now she lives in a nursing home. About how guilty I feel regarding that, and how I plan/hope to change it. About how much family creates and affects us, and how much time we spend trying to run away from it. And about that fact that, sometimes, blood means as much as years you've spent together.

Post title from Don McLean's Empty Chairs.

forever is a long, long time when you lost your way

Today's post title is from my favourite Guitar Hero song "Lasso" by Phoenix. My roommate Michelle bought a Nintendo Wii a few weeks back and it's really been more fun that I imagined. I am especially loving the music games, as I am a frustrated karaoke queen, and am a lot better on guitar than I thought I'd be. It's nice just to kick back and have fun with Michelle anyway. We realised yesterday that we've been living in our skanky Juliette Lewis duplex for a year now -- and so much has changed during that time. We were both single back then, and now are seeing really great guys, and we were both in a more precarious mental state than we are (mostly!) now. I think living there has been good for me, she definitely inspired me to start internet dating and look how well THAT turned out.

Neil and I are still blissing out on each other and having a lot of fun. We've been extremely social lately, having had two weddings, a hen's/buck's night and a 40th birthday to go to. They were all his friends, of whom he has many, but I'm starting to feel like I fit in with them and they're all pretty welcoming. Neil also rocks because he bought me some new clothes to wear for all these outings as I was feeling a bit "blah" about my wardrobe. He earns a lot more than me, but I still felt uncomfortable about him spending money on me... His previous girlfriend scored a new car from him, as well as a stack of other stuff she didn't deserve (miaow! LOL) and I don't want to be perceived like her. She was very materialistic, from what I can gather. My oldest friend once worked with this girl (as well as with Neil) and she doesn't have a high opinion of her. I think that my struggle to be accepted by Neil's 19 year-old son is proving to be difficult partly because of the last girlfriend.

Although work, family, friends and love life seem to be stable and nice, there are still more moments of panic/black-hole-ness than I would like. I guess it's called recovery for a reason, not "all-better-now". I had to take a Valium at work the other day, for the first time in months, which certainly worked and helped chill me out for the day so I could get through it. But I was disappointed that my regular medication, and the mental effort I am expending on "being normal", wasn't sufficient to keep the nasty away. I had bad PMT as well this month, which is common but annoying. It makes me irritable and shaky as well as the physical aches, cramps and tiredness. Neil knows about most of my mental history, and Doc A, and the meds, but I try not to always be harping on about it. He lost two close family members to suicide, and I feel so damnably guilty and selfish whenever I want to whinge about my low mood. Being with Neil has definitely shown me another side to mental illness, the survivor's side, and Michelle and I often have to adapt our conversation or anecdotes out of respect for his experience. We have both attempted suicide, and have regular suicide ideation (as Doc A would say), but try not to express it when Neil is around. He knows I have been down that road, but I figure he doesn't need reminding of it.

All in all, life is wonderful yet comes with its own minor pitfalls. I'm navigating them...so far... Being around someone kind and loving definitely helps, even though it adds a social pressure to my life in some ways. I am worried about my eating though, and my consequent weight issues. Neil loves his food, and also loves shopping, and those two things are high on my binge-list. I have to try and maintain the weight loss I achieved through my weight loss surgery three years ago, even if I can't manage to lose the rest of the excess weight. I don't want a repeat of the Mr Ex scenario where we both gained 50kg while we were together. No sir, no way.

A New Favourite

These comics are from my new favourite website www.catversushuman.blogspot.com

The creator is a supercool girl from San Francisco named Yasmine. I want to be her friend. I want to BE her.

Though I have just two cats (one of whom lives with her grandmother because she can't play nice with her sister) I am definitely a crazy cat lady...

A Post Secret Moment

the costume makes the clown

Over the weekend Neil and I went to a costume party held by a friend from work. It went really well, and I will attach a photo at the bottom of this post so you can see me as Queen Victoria and Neil as a hunky King Arthur.

Getting the costume organised was a moment of stress for me. The invitation called for us to dress as someone famous (dead) from history, and all of the people I could think of were either men or old ladies. Apart from people like Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe, who I knew were already coming to the party, and who I could not really hope to emulate due to their amazing sexiness and style. We went to a huge costume store near the city and rather than let us browse the costumes and choose, the staff asked what costume we wanted and then found it for us. Consequently, I ended up with the ugliest, most shapeless dress you ever saw, which was kind of a Gone With The Wind dress but they said it was okay for Queen Victoria (one of my ideas). I was extremely depressed when I tried it on, as it made me look hideous. There I was surrounded by sexy Catwoman, French maid, school girl type costumes and gorgeous skinny women trying them on, and I was wearing a black polyester sack. Ugh. It came with a hoop petticoat, which did NOT help, and they gave me a weird gold headband crown. In the end, I decided to just take the outfit and try to dress it up a bit. It seemed clear from the attitude of the staff and the other customers that there weren’t a lot of options for plus size costumes… The staff member asked me “What size ARE you?” and when I told her, two other customers turned and stared at me. It reminded me of the embarrassment I had shopping for a wedding dress (when I was even heaiver than I am now), when I ended up getting a dress made for me as the stores were so rude.

Anyway. I guess it reminded me that it's nice to have control over our lives in some ways (like choosing every day what we wear, and making ourselves happy and comfortable with fashion) and when we have to step out of that zone it can be confronting. I hardly ever feel that crippling low-self-esteem these days… being loved/desired has done wonders for me in that area. But I had a rough day at the costume shop. Neil kept telling me to try and find something else, but I really just gave up. I felt like I was being punished for not losing more weight after my surgery and not making an effort. In the end, I found a purple crown and sceptre/wand in Toys R Us and also some rocking elbow-length velvet gloves that cheered me up! I think the costume ended up a success, even though the party was full of fabulous Audreys and Marilyns I didn’t feel too bad.

falling from the heartbeat of this girl

I saw Doc A on Friday, for the first time in over a month - probably the longest stretch I've been "psych-free" since I started treatment in Feb 2009. The session was good, primarily because he validated all the issues I've been having since I went off the Solian (anti-psychotic) and basically advised me to keep doing what I was already doing on my own - namely go back on the Solian and try to maintain mindfulness with my eating and shopping binges. He seemed adamant that I've proven I need the Solian, even in the small dose I'm taking. I think that having a period off the medication, during a stress-free and trigger-free time in my life, was a good "test". I am okay with needing the Solian. It's primarily for schizophrenia, which I don't have, but is also proven to work for BPD and OCD in conjunction with an anti-depressant.

So I have been taking the Solian again for a week and feel markedly improved. My mood is better, I feel less "split" and distracted, I have managed to reduce my binges (both eating and shopping), and overall I am less anxious. Had a great weekend with Neil, finally met his mother which was a lot less scary than I'd imagined LOL, and some more of his friends. Also spent time at my place with Michelle, who gets on famously with Neil. It is such a relief that they are compatible, and there are no issues, as one of the other guys I dated this year, Lloyd, triggered massive (justified) anger from Michelle. He really was a jerk. Sometimes I have to pinch myself, metaphorically, to make sure I'm not dreaming the fact that I now get to hang out with someone as generous, loving, fun and kind as Neil. Did I tell y'all that we met on an internet site that is primarily for sex and hookups than for actual romance and dating?? SO WEIRD. I had grown tired of the metrosexual passive types I was meeting on the traditional dating sites, so put my profile up on a site more "out there" - and ended up meeting one of the few men on that site who actually was after more than just a one night stand. How funny. Neil told me afterwards that he didn't realise that site was known for "swingers" and the like! Jeez, I do love him.

Post title is from one of my fave songs at the moment, Angus & Julia Stone's "and the boys". They are an awesome brother/sister duo from Sydney. Here's the film clip for those who are interested...

should be hoping but I can't stop thinking

No matter how much I think I've changed, or "recovered", there's always the Big Dark hovering the background waiting to devour. Lately it's been creeping around making its evil presence felt in subtle ways. A couple of episodes of binge eating. Some temper tantrums. Shortness of breath, tightness of chest. Whether it can be blamed on PMS or the medication change is something that will come to light in time, but the overall negativity of mood at the moment is scaring me shitless. Housemate Michelle said to me last night "What's your problem, you've got a job, somewhere to live, a boyfriend..." and although it was said entirely in jest, she really has a point. Outwardly, there is no reason for my uneasy feeling. No external trigger for these nerves that are starting to stretch out like barbed wire.

I am considering going back on the antipsychotic, Solian. I definitely wonder if the binge eating is related to going off the meds, as one of the main reasons for Doc A prescribing it was to help with my eating. I've started "inhaling" food again, instead of maintaining mindfulness and enjoying food in a relaxed and slow way. I ate a huge bag of potato chips in less than half an hour on Monday, and then polished off a number of chocolate bars. It reminded me of the bad old days before my weight loss surgery when I would regularly binge like that. I have no idea what triggered it, if anything. Although there have been some nasty thoughts hovering around lately.

As much as I am happy and in love, and definitely feel "loved", part of me wonders when it will all start to go bad. When Neil will see how pathetic and ugly I am, when he will realise the huge mistake he's made, when he will run away and never look back. It's a constant struggle to keep these stupid, pointless, damaging, groundless fears at bay. If a short time passes when we don't have sex, I think "It's the beginning of the end, he's gone off me already." If he doesn't text me until lunchtime I think "Remember the beginning of our relationship, when the first thing he did every morning was text?" Who am I to second guess and question such a decent and honest man?? I don't deserve him if I'm going to act in such a self-destructive way.

One of the things I constantly say, and believe, is that relapse is part of recovery. I suppose this is one of those moments of relapse, when old habits and thought patterns threaten to sabotage my current happiness. I'm trying so hard not to be terrified that the Cymbalta is losing effectiveness, and that another breakdown is imminent. So far I am managing to keep up at work, and still show a fairly cheerful front to Neil and everyone else. The Big Crazy is still held at bay, which is something positive I suppose. While I maintain control, and have insight, I have hope that I will get through this time of darkness.

*Post title is from This Woman's Work (Kate Bush) - melancholy as suits my mood...

lucky just to linger in your life

I've been absent from here again, caught up in the blissful ordinariness of life. It seems that I blog more regularly when things are bleak, so rest assured if you haven't heard from me in a while it's because all is well. It seems so trite to post the positives, even though I know people are happy to hear them.

My bloke, Neil, is lovely.


He listens to my complaining, laughs at my lamest jokes, cooks me delicious meals and buys me stuffed toys and flowers. He's fun and fabulous in bed! Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure it's not a wonderful dream I will wake up from to find myself lonely and alone. Having someone in my corner, on my side, is an amazing feeling and I am SO LUCKY. I accidentally called him by Mr Ex's name the other day, due in part probably to the physical resemblance but also because I spent ten years using Mr Ex's name. Neil took it in his stride and didn't get upset, which was a relief. I felt awful, because in no way does Neil remind me of Mr Ex in any way apart from the superficially physical. I think he knows that, which is why he was okay with my little faux pas!

Apart from ye olde love life, things are fairly stable. Work is going well, I now work three days a week (Tues - Thurs) and then have a four day weekend every week - which I gotta tell you, rocks!! Neil has Sundays off, and mostly Mondays, so we often spend a couple of days overdosing on each other. I am incredibly relaxed with him, even naked LOL. This is probably TMI but for the first time I feel like I have the opportunity and the support to just let go and have fun in the bedroom. We're both experimental and openminded and really match each other well. Which, as regular readers will know, is the opposite to Mr Ex. I always thought I was oversexed, or weird, but being with Neil shows me that it wasn't me who had the problem all those years...

Doc A suggested I was stable enough to go off the anti-psychotic (Solian), which I did a few weeks ago. I haven't really noticed any difference, and thankfully the OCD hasn't returned and I haven't been binge-eating. Doc A also pushed out my appointments to once a month rather than once a week, which suits me as there doesn't seem to be a lot to talk about lately. Unlike other relationships, I'm not black/white, obsessive or game-playing with Neil, and we are building a good level of trust that keeps me comfortable. I keep expecting problems to crop up, for triggers to go off, but so far the last couple of months have been placid. No doubt something will come along to derail or perturb me! But meanwhile, I am enjoying the smooth ride.

greetings loved ones

Ticking along, ticking along. Life continues to surprise and delight me with its evenhanded sweetness. I am steadily growing fonder of The Man (Neil), who loves to buy me flowers and cheesecake and recently cooked me the best roast dinner I've ever eaten. We talk every day, and each time we see each other it's the perfect mix of excitement and relaxation. Weird, but it feels like we've been dating for years already. Did I tell y'all he bears more than a passing physical resemblance to Mr Ex? It freaks me out sometimes, makes me wonder whether there is something sick and twisted going on in my subconscious. Michelle, housemate, says as long as Neil doesn't resemble Mr Ex in character then that's the most important thing. But it's twelve years since Mr Ex and I first hooked up, so who would know what he was like then, before the marriage rot set in and the sexual ambivalence started to send me mad... I tend to think that Neil is made from stronger stuff, and much more focused and passionate than Mr Ex ever was. And if his only major flaw is that he is of similar build and colouring as my ex-husband, then Neil is definitely a keeper.

I've told Neil about the coincidence, and he is conscious of not reminding me in other ways of Mr Ex. I think I will have to run it past Doc A and see what he thinks, whether he's concerned that I am reliving the past or trying to subconsciously return to those dark days of unhappy matrimony.

In other news, my Cymbalta side effects have all but disappeared. I've been taking it (60mg) for almost 2 and a half months now, and it's still working a treat to keep me activated and stable-minded. At first I had wicked constipation (TMI? Sorry!), cotton mouth and a few troubles with orgasm, but thankfully all those things have passed. Doc A promised they would, but naturally I thought I knew better LOL. I'm finding that my weight has dropped slightly, as my appetite seems decreased, which is always a benefit. It's one drug I wouldn't hesitate to recommend. Combined with the 50mg of Solian I am taking, it's really helped me to turn things around from where they were in dismal May. Most of the time I feel mellow, cheerful, positive and full of potential. Work asked me to increase my hours, which I'm happy to do now I'm stable again, which shows they must think I am "well" and functioning.

As good as the Cymbalta is, though, I think it's just as empowering and enriching to have someone kind and loving in my life. Someone who tells me how much I mean to him, and reinforces my positive thoughts and qualities. Someone I inexplicably feel physically comfortable with, and who "lights my fire" on a regular basis (-: I am officially resigned from the dating sites now, and am focusing my attention on the relationship I have, here and now. He called me his girlfriend the other day, and damn if it didn't feel good...

(title of post from Katy Perry's California Gurls)

a boy, a girl and a rendezvous

Firstly, a big thank you to Jen Daisybee from Suicidal No More for the I Choose to Live Award. This means a lot, as I really do believe living, and living well, is a choice and it's a choice I make every day. For those of you who haven't checked out Jen's blog, please do so - she is an incredibly inspiring writer who deals with Schizoaffective Disorder as well as some other difficulties.

Things have been steadily improving for me, and I am prepared to confess that I may in fact be a little bit "in lurve". It's someone entirely new, who I have only known for two weeks, but so far things are going amazingly well. There are no "buts", no negatives, no clarifications and best of all no qualms from him about being in a relationship. I decided two weeks ago to end things with Anthony, as he was determinedly casual and noncommittal, and seemed to prefer to just take things as they came rather than make plans. It just didn't suit me, and I had started to email my new man (Neil) and felt there was real potential there. We (Neil and I) have been completely honest and upfront from the start, and as a result have become close very quickly. We've had three dates since we met, and each one is more relaxed, more fun and more romantic than the last. He confessed to me that he is looking for true love, which is the first time I've heard that this year. The ten men I have met/dated this year have been predominantly reluctant to even mention love, let alone actively pursue it, so Neil is refreshingly different. On our first date, he bought me a gorgeous teddy bear, and has texted and/or called me every day since we met. He calls me babe and sweetheart. He tells me I make him smile. He does what he says he will, when he says he will.

I know it's early, but I really think this one might be a keeper. We'll see! The finding out is the fun part, anyway!!

I saw Doc A this week for the first time in a month; he has been in Germany for the First International Congress on BPD. He came back with heaps of interesting info, such as Abilify is the "go to" medication they've found for BPD + depression, but BPD without depression does not typically respond well to medication. They discussed DBT (Marsha Linehan was a keynote speaker) and MBT and TBT (this last one is what Doc A says he and I do, it's Transference Behavioural Therapy), and all three have major merit and success in treatment according to the Congress. One of the interesting things is that pharmaceutical companies had very little input into the Conference, which meant that the outcomes and topics weren't as skewed as other Conferences. Doc A is very much against what he calls the "pharmaceutical industry merry-go-round" and refuses to see drug reps at his practice. I'm so lucky to have found such a kick arse doctor. Really makes a big difference.

Hope this finds everyone hanging in there and maybe even doing well xx

Today's title is from Belle and Sebastian's Women's Realm - one of my all-time favourite songs.

round and round and round in the circle game

I seem to be struggling to keep up with blogging these days. Not much going on in the day-to-day sense, some whole days pass by with nothing remarkable to report, but it's more a lack of interest than a lack of something to say. I think blogging, for me, is a seasonal thing, or it's at least mood-based. I definitely come and go from here, and from the blogs of my online friends, and even though I think of you all regularly, it's sometimes hard to find the time and the energy to log on.

Perhaps it's because I am spending more time dating these days - both in real-life and online. My beau Anthony is still in the picture, and I still really like him, however we've been discussing open relationships and in theory I support the idea. I was monogamous for ten years, and it was reeeeeaaaaaally difficult, and part of me now believes that having a primary relationship with supplementary partners is the way to go. It's controversial, I know, and requires a huge level of trust and communication in the primary relationship. And it can't be just because one person wants it open, it has to be agreed upon by both parties. But a large part of me believes that it's not necessary to embrace monogamy "just because". Just because it's the done thing, or the option society encourages, or the thing most people do, doesn't mean it's the best option for me. Anthony and I are not exclusive, yet, maybe never will be, and so I am dating a couple of other people as well. It feels good, and everyone is aware of everyone else, and no-one is being set up for hurt (I hope, especially hope not me LOL).

Whether or not Anthony and I end up as primary partners in an open relationship, or whether I end up committed and monogamous with someone else, remains to be seen. Anthony has admitted being open to the idea of monogamy, with the right person and in the right circumstance, so I suppose that's an option too. We've been seeing each other for a month, and it's fairly casual, more casual than I would like if I'm honest. I am intense kind of person, as y'all know, and to see each other once or twice a week is not my ideal. Which may be one of the reasons why I am keen to have other men in my life...

One of my other guys, Mitch, has two kids aged 4 and 5, which is quite scary for me. I'm not sure if I'm "stepmother" material... I like him a lot, though, and I'm sure his kids are adorable. We had our first date on Saturday night and talked for hours, went bowling and had dinner and coffee. We have a lot in common, more than I first thought when I was matched with him, and even though Anthony is still my Number One, Mitch could definitely work his way up Lil's Dating Chart.

Healthwise, I am relatively stable and happy. I think my current medication mix is a good one, and even though Doc A is away in Germany for a couple of weeks I am hanging in there. He definitely doesn't agree with the polyamory/open relationship idea, by the way! He thinks it triggers one of the primary BPD issues of rejection/abandonment and would make me even more "hypervigilant" about any partner I had. He has a point, darn it, but I am still open to the idea. If I become well, and BPD-recovered, then hopefully hypervigilance will be a thing of the past, along with the BS of abandonment/rejection. Man, do I ever live in hope...

Continued improvement in life and mood, which I am glad to experience. My new beau, Anthony, is still proving to be honest and upfront with me, and seems to like spending time with me, and I am trying hard not to hear doom approaching. I wish that for once I could just enjoy something without lamenting its frailties and anticipating its end. I keep reminding myself that the current moment is the only one I know I have for real, for sure, so I should just enjoy it for what it is.

In just 4 days I turn 40, and it really has messed with my head lol. I sailed through turning 30, even as other friends found it hard to transition. But 40 is proving to be a challenge. I am dealing with it by planning a weekend away for my parents and some of my closest friends, which will be fun and a distraction.

is that supposed to be your poker face or was someone run over by a train

Just surfacing briefly to try and read a few blogs (so many hundreds in my Google reader...so little time) and to write an update on my situation.

In the last few weeks since I wrote, a lot has improved. Cymbalta has come into my life like an avenging angel, banishing the last of the homicidal Prozac-ity and energizing and revitalizing me. I feel so much better, so clear and focused. I started back at work yesterday and it went well, I am back on reduced hours and everyone has a slightly concerned way of watching me when they think I'm not looking. But overall, I am happy to be back and they are happy to have me.

My extra work with Dr A has paid off also, he says to not give Cymbalta all the credit as I've worked hard to try and regain my hold on sanity. My focus now is working with him on some CBT related goals in the areas of self-esteem, relationships and the like. I am determined to be able to be a functioning, positive partner for someone at some stage, and I think I need help with that (esp given my experiences with dating this year).

Also, I have met someone new. Someone I was introduced to online five months ago and have been emailing back and forth with regularity. We finally got to meet in real life and hit it off - now I am playing it as cool as I can, and trying not to place too much hope and expectation on him. Early days, but better ones folks.

(Title from Fountains of Wayne "No Better Place")

empty as a pocket with nothing to lose

This is not a good time in the Life of Lil. I had a bit of a heartbreak/letdown when Colin decided he preferred another to me, and that stupid event has escalated into a full-scale breakdown, leaving me unable to work and on disability for at least a month. I really need help to get a handle on my emotions, and my desperate need to be liked/loved/dated.

I am going through a massive medication change, along with intensive therapy with Doc A, trying to find a pathway through this darkness. The Prozac is clearly not working, as I am on a high dose and still feel depressed 90% of the time, which could definitely be avoidance but I am willing to try a medication change to see if it helps. I start on Cymbalta on Monday, and I have increased my anti-psychotic Solian six-fold which has helped me feel more integrated. I had a couple of hideous dissociative episodes ten days ago, which prompted the increase in the Solian, and it's helped. I am also scoffing Valium like it's going out of fashion, just to keep the edges softer and the panic at a bearable level.

I can't believe after a year of solid and productive work I am back at square one. I'm annoyed with myself for letting a man affect me so profoundly, especially a man I had only been out with twice. Ridiculous. I obviously need to take myself out of this internet dating scene, but it's developed into a full-scale addiction... I don't know what to replace it with, what I would look forward to if not the potential for love and companionship.

I am cripplingly lonely.

This is not something I would admit for the longest time, but having to cope with the "loss" of Colin, or the POTENTIAL of him anyway, has shown me how much I have started to rely on the possiblility of being with someone. That terrible temptation to fill the BPD Big Empty with someone else, to place my terrors on someone else's shoulders and hope they can bear them better than I. It's a disaster.

I don't have internet access at home just now, Michelle has left for two weeks and taken it with her, so dragged myself to the local shops to use the public access booth - just to post an update and apologise for not being around lately. I am hopeful of a change in weather and circumstance. Keep your good vibes coming my way, and I will do the same back yáll.

Passionate Blogger Award

Thank you Sarah (at This Lunatic Express) for this lovely recognition. I am passionate about blogging, it really helps me to keep the loony at bay, and reading all the blogs I have on my reading list is a big part of that. Like Sarah says, it's hard to choose just five to pass it on to but I decided to look at some of my new(er) contacts in blogging. Here are my choices:

Matthew at Chronic Impending Disaster (even if he DID post that internet dating was for the desperate LOL)
Arifaery at Fighting Labels
MissFlame1 at My Life & Challenges So Far
Lady Amanda at Living With An Invisible Disability (this lady has one of the biggest and warmest hearts in the blogosphere)
Bipolar Geminate

Y'all know I love and adore you - keep up the great blogging and help us all TRY to stay sane(ish).

the only things that I know, I know too well

One of the things I liked most about my new dating partner Colin is when asked in his profile what were the 5 things he couldn't live without, one of the things he chose was "hope". I love that answer, it's something my regular readers know I pride myself on, even when life is at its darkest. But the problem with hope is that is leads to dangerous things like expectation, longing, anticipation, and then the plain vanilla terror of rejection.

I am struggling at the moment with trying to remain hopeful and positive, yet not place too much emphasis on how much Colin is tied up in that -- to hope for the best yet prepare for the worst, perhaps? Since I last wrote we have had another excellent date, one of those dappled afternoons where conversation and laughter flowed over us like the sweetest of waves, and are planning to meet again this coming Wednesday night. He has a lot going on in his life just now, and in many ways the timing is terrible as he leaves soon for a month in the USA. He will be away for my 40th birthday party, which makes me sad, as I know I would have enjoyed it more had he been there. But even knowing him, knowing he exists in the world and may like me, makes me happy. I can survive a month without him, though hopefully we will have progressed slightly further along the dating path by then as things remain ambiguous at the moment. I'm suffering from the "he's just not that into you" blues, whereby the time he spends studying, working, living his life transmogrifies in my mind into dates with other women, avoidance of me, yadayada. Sigh. I am so impatient, just wanting to know once and for all whether he likes me, how much he likes me, where he sees this heading...

It really does one's head in, this balancing act between liking someone and wanting them to like me, yet not actually putting too much emphasis on the importance of same. I don't know how to like Colin without putting my heart into it. I don't think I would like to be someone who could play this weird game of keeping my cards close to my chest. So I think I just need to live and love and all consequences be damned (within reason).

Title from Richard Easton's Pastel Gothic, great local artist

supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

On the corner of my street is a big house with an impressive rose garden, with bushes that froth over the wall and into the street. I've taken to stopping as I pass and smell the roses, how cliched. They are all colours, each has a slightly different scent. The reason I share this with you now is that a week ago I didn't even notice them, would walk straight past either crying, frowning or lamenting my fate, or all three at once. But since I followed Doc A's advice and faced my fears, going back to work and sticking it out, things have taken a turn for the better. It really did have a flow-on effect. Friday night I resisted the lure of Lloyd, who was texting me wanting me to go out with him and offer him my usual support and adoration. I felt like I am finally moving on from the maniacal obsession...

I saw Doc A yesterday and he said to me "Patients as aware as you rarely exist in therapy" and "You're so brave, I'm proud of you". Even though I take his validations with a BPD-grain-of-salt, I was chuffed that he said them. I felt like I'd earned them, having been thoroughly sick and terrified of returning to work after my enforced week's mental leave but doing it anyway. And doing it without tears, panic, or escape plans.

I had good news to share with Doc A, and to share here with y'all now. The date with Colin on Sunday was really, really nice. It's a dull word, that doesn't do the event justice, but it kind of describes it. No drama, no meanness, no embarrassment, just solid, easy conversation with a mature and interesting man. I managed to be friendly and outgoing without using my full-on BPD-overdrive Mary Poppins persona - which is a major victory. And yes, he called. And yes, we have a second date on Saturday. And yes, I am happy. Thankfully, it feels more like rebuilding than emotional BPD mood bouncing.

when the first cup of coffee tastes like washing up she knows she's losing it

As the last couple of posts will attest, I am struggling just now. I took a week off from work, annual leave / mental health leave, and went to see Doc A a few times to try and work out how to get back on track. What I thought was my illness, or a general breakdown, he blames entirely on my focus on Lloyd and the dysfunctional relationship we're in. While I admit that there's a lot of energy being sent the way of the Unsuitable Boy, it's hard to comprehend that he/my reactions to him are entirely to blame for the shitty way I feel. When I am with him, I'm happy(ish); we've been spending a lot of time together over the last week as he was in hospital and needed my help (always a bad sign, as I am incapable of resisting the lure of someone who needs me...).

Doc A flatly refused to write me a medical certificate for disability. He basically said I could sack him and find a new doctor, but as far as he is concerned I am not incapable of working, I just need to focus more energy towards work and less towards the Unsuitable Boy. SIGH. I know he is right. His theory makes sense to me -- I am preoccupied with the friendship-that-can't-be-more, and the constant disappointment he gives me. Doc A pointed out that the main fear of a Borderline is rejection/abandonment, and the way my relationship with Lloyd is, that is all I ever get from him. Because I love him, and he doesn't feel the same, any time I spend with him is a constant reminder of those failings.

I am back at work today, shaky and worried, but I am here.

I am trying to minimise the Lloyd Effect, and have a date with a nice man named Colin on Sunday. Doc A suggests that I keep trying to work on functional, positive, rewarding relationships as it will help me to move on from The Unsuitable Boy. Intellectually, I am completely aware that Lloyd is wrong for me, and in fact is an arrogant, selfish SOB. But my heart has made a connection that won't just go away. Obviously it has to go away... yet it's not an easy transition. I have decided to try and limit contact with him as much as possible, try to minimise the addiction/craving (as Doc A describes it!!).

Thank you everyone for your lovely and supportive comments lately, it's really made things better. I am continuing to fight the good fight - and with your help, my medication, some DBT and Doc A I will make it to a happier place! I am determined, my friends xx

Thanks to Belle & Sebastian for the title of today's post, it's from their song "She's Losing It"

broken hearted girl

it's life, Jim, but not as we know it

Pitiful update on pathetic life.

I am struggling to even string a sentence together these days, which is why I've been absent from this page. I'm here now to reassure those of you who have noticed the absence that I am still fighting. Still waving, not drowning.

I am half-leftover-in-love with the Unsuitable Boy, who continues to string me along one text message at a time. Consciously, I know we are wrong for each other, and intellectually I understand the complex reasons why I can't let go. He is one of the only people I've ever met who is crazier than I am, he makes me feel normal, I don't have to do my fake "Mary Poppins" persona with him and be cheerful/chirpy, I feel empathetic and compassionate towards him for his past. None of these things are foundation-for-relationship. The deal-breakers between us are many, but they make little or no impression on the sad and sorry part of me that just wants to be with him rather than without him.

Work situation is dire, I am crippled with boredom and apathy and as poor as the proverbial church mouse. Time is approaching when I make my yearly foray into the job market. I seem to only be able to manage 12 months at a job (the last three positions have been almost exactly one year). I need more money, greater stimulus, perhaps a wider range of social opportunity. Men. My workplace is 100% female, and sometimes I fear I may suffocate from the estrogen.

I have an appointment with a community financial counsellor this week, attempting to stave off the bankruptcy that has threatened me since my breakdown and loss of employment last year. When I left my husband I inherited a large debt that I've struggled to pay off, and with the added issue of only working part-time, and being badly paid, the debt has spawned other, lesser debts, that now threaten to engulf me. I am trying, so hard, to keep paying everything and keep food on the table. It makes me so very very tired.

This is one of those posts people will wish they never read lol. It all has to be said, for I would never want to self-censor, but I apologise for the lack of cheer. Bleak and dark days, my friends. But I continue to struggle against the black dog.

Happy 200

I can't believe this blog has been going for more than a year, which means my "official" BPD diagnosis is also more than a year old. It's my 200th post today - and I want to say a massive thank you to all my readers and commenters. Having you guys around has made the last year a LOT more enjoyable, and I hope some of my ramblings have helped other people to feel more sane LOL, or less alone.

I feel as though I should do some kind of a retrospective to mark the 200th post. It's certainly amazing to me how much has changed, in my physical life as well as my mental/emotional life. Working hard with Doc A, and practising my CBT and DBT skills, and finding a good medication balance has meant that I can function fairly well most of the time. I've returned to work, moved out of my parents' house, and started dating. A year ago, none of these things seemed possible. I owe a lot to Doc A, and to my family and friends who have been supportive, but I am recognising how much of the work I did myself. I was determined to survive, and to even thrive, and even when I was most despairing, I hung on to the hope. Even in the darkest times, I focused on the tiny glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel, and I think that's what got me through. It gave me the strength to keep working at therapy and to resist the evil BPD voices in my head when they told me to binge eat, shop, pull out my hair, scratch my skin, obsess, scream...

There are times when I wonder if I can keep up the effort, but I get through them (occasionally with the help of a Valium LOL). Events of the past year have tested me, often, but I do feel like I have made progress and am functioning pretty well. As mentioned in an earlier post, Doc A says that if I came in now to see him for an initial consult he probably wouldn't place me in the same Borderline Personality Disorder category, that he would assume I was at worst a mild case. I am attached to my diagnosis, so I don't know how I feel about having it taken away!! It seems weird to think of myself as just Lil instead of Borderline Lil, even though I know that it makes perfect sense - I am not JUST my diagnoses, I am a complete and whole person underneath the crazy haha.

As an update to previous posts, I am still spending time with Lloyd, though part of me suspects he doesn't deserve me LOL. We are technically "friends", and see a lot of each other, and in many ways I'm happier without the relationship label. I am still in two minds about him, and our relationship, but being with him (mostly) makes me happy. It's weird that I'm almost 40 years old and am finally falling for an Unsuitable Boy. I always made sensible, rational choices when I actually committed myself to relationships in the past, even though some of my fantasy/obsession/crushes were kind of out there. But something about Lloyd makes me retract all my feminist beliefs and my rational decisions. My friends and family think I deserve better, intellectually I know that he needs to step up and be a man, but there is a big part of me that just loves him, you know? As much as I don't want to, and I'm fighting it, I just want him to love me.

Ugh. I can't even stand the sound of myself!! It's stupid. I'm hopeful that his hold on me will dissipate, somehow, sometime, and I'll be able to move on. Til then, I just focus on the good stuff.

know when to fold 'em

Following up to the events of my last blog post, I am still in contact with Lloyd, known colloquially as The Most Unsuitable Boy In The World. His calls and texts have been steady, and he asked me to go out with him to dinner, the movies, just to hang out. I weakened, and weakened, and weakened... eventually consenting to seeing him after he admitted he had made a major mistake and wanted/needed me in his life.

I am definitely The Biggest Hypocrite In The World, having always scoffed at women who had those on/off relationships and who took back men who had treated them poorly.

I'm not admitting (either to him or to you, dear readers) to us being back together, but we have seen each other a couple of times and it's been wonderful. Easy. Honest. Better than before. He's been opening up to me, admitting he's scared and self-sabotaging because he really likes me. None of this excuses or explains his previous attitude, and it certainly doesn't mean that another freak out / break up won't happen. I have made a couple of casual dates with new guys, which I think prompted Lloyd to realise what he was missing out on. So obvious. But yes, I am a sucker for it. I just missed him intensely while we were apart, and being with him feels better than being without him. What's a crazy nutjob girl to do??

I saw Doc A yesterday and he was surprisingly supportive about the situation. I thought he would roll his eyes and poke fun at me for being so human LOL. But after I had filled him in on all the goings on, he said that maybe it was worth another shot and that everyone deserves a second chance. I guess when it (IF it) gets to third, fourth, twenty-ninth chances he might change his mind!!

I am still in a state of confusion, and planning to date other people for the next couple of weeks while I sort my head out. Lloyd is not thrilled, but understands - I think.

All of your comments on the previous were completely true, and accurate, and echoed things I've told myself over and over again. I don't know how it's possible to forgive him, and still care about him, but it JUST IS...

you gotta know when to hold 'em

Lloyd broke up with me on Wednesday night. By text message - classy. And every day since then he has contacted me trying to get me to see him "as friends". I think he probably means the friends with benefits kind of friend LOL. I was devastated at first, I'm not gonna lie, there was sobbing and vomiting involved and many, many curse words. But now I am just confused. He says we get along beautifully, and have so much in common, but there are other contributing factors which mean we shouldn't "go out" as such. He had an argument online with Michelle, my housemate; he says he has not lost as much weight this month as previous months, which may or may not be because he's sabotaging himself because of me (!!!); the "physical side" of our relationship is not working for him (yet he has tried to booty call me twice since breaking up with me)... yada yada yada.

Ultimately, I have come to the conclusion that he just isn't ready for any kind of commitment. In many ways, he is like a 15 year old boy - messy, disorganised, sex-focused, immature - and I think as we grew closer and bonded more it scared the crap out of him. What a fricken cliche!!! I have been so laidback and easygoing, not demanding anything from him in the way of labels or commitments, so I can only imagine the freakout is entirely in his own head. What has really upset me is that he won't leave me alone since telling me it wasn't working. I wish he would just leave me to heal and move on. I am trying to get my head around the idea of going back on the internet dating roundabout and finding someone else, even though it's soon. I think that getting back on the horse, so to speak, might be the only way I stay sane...

love and other bruises

One of the issues I'm fighting on a daily basis, having started to expose my body to another human being again, is my self-loathing, which can verge on the pathological. As lots of my readers know, I had weight loss surgery 2 and a half years ago and since then have lost 100 pounds. I still have at least 50 pounds to lose before I'm even close to "ideal weight" for my height, and sadly most of those extra pounds have formed a tight knit association with my thighs. I lost more from my upper half, especially chest region more's the pity, so now I have a disturbingly pear-shaped body. But, as I know, as I tell myself over and over and over again, it's better to be lighter and healthier and I wouldn't want to be 370 pounds again. At least it's gone, even though it took my impressive chest with it.

One of the things I find interesting and appealing about the new bloke, Lloyd, is that he had weight loss surgery last April. He's lost even more weight than I have, and is doing amazingly well and is terribly "gung ho" about weight loss. He inspires me to want to lose more, and is encouraging, but part of me wonders when it will be okay for me to just BE. To finally learn to love myself and my body, without planning umpteen ways in which to change and improve it. Where does the balance lie between wanting to be fitter and healthier and thinner and wanting to unconditionally love myself? Where does that balance lay for Lloyd?? I understand that I'm not happy with myself, or my body, so it makes sense that he would be encouraging me to lose weight if it's something I want. But what if I can't, won't, don't lose more weight? What if it's more important to put my energy into accepting myself for the flawed and fat person I genuinely am? When does it become okay to just relax and let the flab fall where it may?

I've struggled with this question so much, for so many years, but the issue is more acute now I share my physical being with another person. I suppose I open myself up to opinion, comment and yes, criticism, by bearing my body and soul to him. Don't get me wrong, he doesn't judge me or criticise my weight, and if anyone knows what it's like to be obese it's Lloyd. Which kind of makes it harder, you know... if he understands how much a person can loathe themselves, why can't he just worship me for who I am right now? To answer my own question, he does worship me, but he is unfailingly honest and upfront about everything - weight included. Would I prefer that he lie to me about my weight the way Mr Ex did, even as I slowly killed myself with food? No. No, no no.

The last week has been especially hard, hormonally challenged as I am, and I cried in front of him for the first time. He was brilliant, empathetic without being patronising, but not even being cared for in that way could ease the intense loathing I felt at the moment for my scarred and ugly body. I wish there was a pill I could take for self-hatred, a potion that could render me carefree and confident. I worry sometimes that even if/when I lose the next 50 pounds I will still feel like the fat failure. That's the problem with mirrors in the mind, I suppose.

shiny, shiny, bad times behind me...?

In the middle of Week 3 of my new "relationship" and it seems like all is well. As well as can be expected when you factor in my general insecurities and mentalness and the fact that he is by-and-large used to his own company. I still enjoy every minute we're together, and try not to ruin every minute we're apart with my incessant ponderings/stress attacks. Being vulnerable again after a time spent solo is such a big deal, as described here in this terrific post by Ruby Tuesday. I don't think I am particularly adept at it, the raunching and relaxing with someone...it's been quite some time since I was last intimate with anyone, and 12 years since I was last with someone new. Having to negotiate the likes/dislikes and (ahem) nooks and crannies is definitely a learning curve, but I am giving it the old college try! The payoff is worth it, naturally, and I imagine that the closeness and comfort we find in each other means that the relationship is also worth it. I am trying hard to avoid Future Speculation. It's early days, and there are some fairly substantial issues we have to negotiate before any talk of Happy Ever After. But Happy Right Now - that I can do.

Doc A was surprised and happy to find that since we'd last met I had started seeing someone seriously. I saw him on Monday and he was full of constructive advice, naturally, especially about making sure that I maintain the other parts of my life that are non-Lloyd-related. He said something like "only one sixth of you is the part in the relationship, the other 5/6 are doing their own thing". Which is fine in practise but truly difficult to achieve in real terms. I have to fight the impulse that says we need to be with each other all the time, and share every damn thing. I have to curb the tendency I have to share every minute detail with him and with everyone else ABOUT him. I have to maintain perspective and rationality and composure and good sense and try to be in my Wise Mind. But part of me wants to lose myself completely and love unreservedly and dive head first. I think this is an ongoing struggle, and one I need to keep an eye on. It feels like I have to be suspicious of feeling too good, but also suspicious of the Negative Nancy voice that tries to sabotage and second guess. Yikes. It was certainly easier in many ways to live a solo, single, simple life.

I wouldn't trade him for anything, though. It's wonderful to talk and laugh with someone special, and to be cuddled by a 6ft 7 in giant of a man makes me feel like a delicate flower lol. Even if it lasts but a minute, I am happy.

you'll be the prince and I'll be the princess*

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, and although I spent it in an untraditional setting, I did get to spend it with my favourite man. It's almost impossible to believe it's been just over a week since we met. Things are moving fast, but with purpose, you know? Like there's something strong at the core, and the surface is just there for it's own sake. Whether we go here or there, say this or that, the connection transcends everything. Last night he said to me it's like we've skipped the casual dating and are already close/committed. I try to hold back and put on the brakes, because that's what I'm "supposed" to do (build trust, get to understand him, delay sex, yada yada) but what feels right is to just give myself over to the experience and enjoy every minute we have together.

Whether this backfires and ends up hurting like hell, well, that remains to be seen. The way my heart works, it wouldn't matter how many hours we'd spent together or what intimacy we had or hadn't shared. If I like him, and it goes sour, it hurts. SO I may as well go with it, and risk my heart. It won't kill me! I feel surprisingly strong, too, as though a bad result won't derail me and undo all the good I've done in therapy over the last year. I haven't breached the mentalness subject except for mentioning I've suffered depression (so has he), but other than that I've been extremely honest about what I want and how I feel. It's well-received by him, and reciprocated... and I think the honest rapport we have is one of the reasons I'm confident.

It's so hard to know whether to be a romantic and just believe, or to be a cynic and just mistrust. I think a mixture of the two is probably the best outcome. I'm a bit of a true believer when it comes to love, though, and it feels SO AMAZING to be at the start of something that may be worth believing in. Valentine's Day rocked this year, and it's hard to picture being happier than I was eating chocolate and watching the sunset with my baby...

(*Taylor Swift - "Love Story")

a lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment

Take the Quiz here!

the dizzy, dancing way you feel

Here’s the best and the worst thing about life. You never know when it’s going to surprise you, and throw you the most amazing unexpected curve ball that changes everything. This is what’s happened to me, people.

My date with Bachelor No 2 was a bit of a non-event, no sparkage and heavy-effort conversation, and he took three phone calls on his cell phone during our date, which I found a bit rude. So he went into the “no, thank you” pile. A week later, along comes a new prospect, who sounded great in his profile but you just never know. It's easy to write a great profile, not so easy to impress in person. We talked for a couple of hours on the phone and really hit it off. Then I met him for bowling and dinner on Saturday and to use a terrible pun, I was totally bowled over! Bachelor No 3, let’s call him Lloyd, made me laugh more than anyone has in years, and he’s smart and sensitive and handsome and interesting. Most incredibly of all, HE LIKES ME. He really likes me. I am trying to play it somewhat cool, but we’ve seen each other every day since Saturday and it’s progressing nicely. For the first time ever I feel coy in writing this blog, like there are details I want to keep to myself rather than sharing every darn thing the way I usually do. Suffice to say, I can’t wipe the smile off my face and the hope in my heart is stronger than ever. I’m determined to enjoy this as long as it lasts and try not to sabotage it with my crazy ways.

Thank you to the always gorgeous Joni Mitchell for today's title, it's from Both Sides Now.

dude looks like a lady

I have another internet-introduction date this evening, and it's brought with it the requisite anxiety and self-questioning. What should I wear? Hair up or down? Flat shoes or heels (this was easily answered as Bachelor Number 2 is shorter than me). The most pressing question is one most of you can relate to, probably, which is whether to tell, and when and how to tell, Bachelor # 2 about the mentalness. It's something I haven't discussed yet with Doc A, but will, as it's been weighing heavily on my mind. Bachelor # 1, the new friend mentioned in my last couple of posts, doesn't know either apart from a vague reference I made to "stress-related difficulties" at my last job. It's something I want to be able to share, but how on earth do I tell someone new, someone who is just starting to get to know my personality, that I'm diagnosed with a Personality Disorder?? I feel like I'd have a better shot if they really knew me first, rather than freaking them out from the first moment. Obviously this isn't a question that needs answering on Date One, but I worry that a new man will feel lied to and betrayed if this isn't brought up at an early stage.

Would welcome any feedback and advice, as always!

In other news, work plods along comfortably and I'm still having a great time living with Michelle. The weather's been diabolical, boiling hot, and we're suffering without airconditioning at work now as well as at home. Roll on Autumn. I feel like I'm in a "no news is good news" phase, so my apologies for not updating this blog regularly. Apart from the new and exciting/terrifying world of dating, I am in a fairly equilibrious state. That's probably not even a word, but y'all know what I mean. This is a good thing, right, being stable and boring and functioning with all cylinders?? Not to say there aren't days when it's a struggle to get out of bed and get to work, or days when I want to run away screaming, but mostly I think I'm doing okay. There's always that nasty niggling nagging feeling at the back of my mind that says "this can't last", but I try not to listen. Oh how I try...

back on the chain gang

First day back at work after a month away. It's so much harder than I imagined...coming back. At least everyone was off, as the place closed its doors for four weeks, so there's not the usual paranoia of returning to work wondering who said what about me when and why. But there is the concern that I've forgotten HOW. How to do my job, how to smile and nod and chatter politely. What did you do on your holidays Lil? No stories of travel, of exotic parties, of outings and such. A lot of sleep, brought on by boredom, inertia and the ever-present vague pulse of panic that was easier to avoid by nodding off. The good thing about Being Back is that I have some time very morning to blog and visit blogs, which is harder at home using Michelle's laptop.

My date on Wednesday last was perfectly charming. We had a lot of fun, he beat me at bowling, he bought me lunch, we talked and laughed a lot. He has an interest in someone else, someone who was just a couple of days ahead of me in the internet matching stakes, so it seems we will remain in that Just Friends zone. There's no JUST about it, according to me, because I need friends more than I need random lovers. So I am thrilled to have made it onto his friends' roster and already feel my life is richer through knowing him. Whether I have the nerve to do it again, the whole meeting and greeting thing, with another boy, remains to be seen. It takes it out of me, even in a friendship scenario... esp. as I am currently languishing a little in the doldrums. Probably just a matter of waiting until the upswing.

I will be your Ferdinand and you my wayward girl

The problem with rejection is that when it visits it brings all it's obscure relatives that you'd forgotten. The cute guy who didn't add you on Facebook, the guy at work who never noticed you, the boy at school who called you a loser...they all come calling when some new rejection rears its head. To clarify, I don't really feel rejected by what's happened, but it did bring to mind other slights and disappointments, and I automatically believed the rejection came from my innate ugliness, weight and self-esteem issues.

Clarification. For the last week and a bit I've developed a great email exchange with a guy from my internet dating site. He's someone special - smart, funny and kind, and I'm planning to meet him next week. The bummer came a couple of days ago when he told me he'd started seeing another woman from the site, and as he's (in his words) a "one woman man", he can only meet me as a friend. Which is great, truly, because who knows if we would have any chemistry anyway. Perhaps this man and I would have ended up as "just" friends, even if we WERE both single. But I was hurt and disappointed that the opportunity is no longer there. We're still emailing every day, and have an awesome connection (SO much in common) and I can't wait to meet him on Wednesday. I felt a bit sad and rejected (that whole "what about me?" scenario) but I'm cool with it now.

I can't even believe I'm the same person I was six months ago. So far this year I've been out almost every day (movies, lunch, coffee, bowling) and I've actually made a new friend. The new medication mix is definitely working for me, and I'm trying hard to not fall back into old patterns (eg: becoming obsessed with my new friend and making my whole life about him). I see Doc A on Monday, so am planning to update him on all this! Good timing, hopefully he can help me to keep up my good work!

(Belle & Sebastian rock today's title, from Piazza New York Catcher - also on Juno soundtrack!)

almost didn't notice the roses

It seems like 2010 is shaping up to be a strange and wonderful year. Bring it on, I say! Christmas was a bit of a challenge, mostly because of my grandmother staying with us. She went into care at a nursing home a month ago and came out for a couple of days over Christmas. Although the place we chose for her is top-notch in many ways, with million dollar views over the city and river and the highest patient-staff ratio in the city, she continually complains about being unhappy. I'm not sure what she expects from us, we cared for her as well as we could, for as long as we could (five years) and now her health has deteriorated to the point where she needs professional care. But she seems to think we moved her into care for our own amusement, or from spite. And perhaps believes if she complains and snivels enough we will move her back home. None of these things are true. In the end, I am ashamed to admit I was pleased to come back here to my own new home, and drop her off at hers, and lalalala try to pretend none of it was happening. Being back at my parents' place was okay, but overall it made me happy I am here in my rockin' duplex with Michelle.

Michelle is a joy, she's literally one of the funniest people I have ever met and we entertain ourselves for hours making up songs, shouting random witticisms at each other, and contemplating life. We're planning on having a kick-ass year, including a massive costume bash for my 40th birthday in June. The other day we bought Singstar for PS2 on ebay and plan to harrass our neighbours with our tuneless fun hahaha.

Another area of life that's surprising me is my social uprising. I decided that I wanted to put myself out there a bit, and perhaps meet some new friends, so I signed up to an internet dating site - yikes!! It's a good site, and more detailed and meaningful in its profiles, so I'm seeing some high quality matches, which is nice. I hold out much hope for 2010! At the very least I am going to have some new friends to invite to my party :D

I am still on a month's vacation from work, so am borrowing Michelle's laptop to access the internet - so if it seems I am not around the blogosphere so much, then that's the reason. I am still trying to keep up with everyone, even if I don't get the chance to comment!

Previous blog title is from an Iron & Wine song, today's courtesy of Taylor Swift's Our Song

cuddle some men they'll remember you bitterly

I have typed this blasted thing twice and my borrowed laptop has crashed, am now giving up on blogging for the day. I'm alive and well, and wish all a safe , truthful and happy 2010 xx