Monday, April 18, 2011
fear is the heart of love
So much has changed over the last six weeks. Left my job, got a new one. Left my house, got a new one. Left my independent life, became a live-in girlfriend. Not all of it's been easy. In fact, most of it has been fracking hard. I feel like I'm treading water, waiting for my feet to be able to touch bottom, but all there is down there is a vast, terrifying, murky depth. Honestly, I don't know how long I can keep my head above water. Being mad is all very well when you live alone and work only three days a week. There's a lot of time leftover for retreating to bed with the sheets pulled up over my throbbing, pounding, naysaying head. These days I have to be awake, showered, dressed (and not just in sweat pants or a sarong) and ready to face the world by 6.45am. Neil asks me if I have had breakfast (puke at the thought), made lunch (ditto), tells me to have a great day. Without fail, I spend the entire hour and a half journey to work thinking how I can get out of going, or how I can be well enough to not be in one of the hospitals I pass, or what food I can binge on or junk I can purchase to cheer myself up. I am no sicker than before this all began. Mostly, I manage to feel "normal" and complete a day's work. But there's no doubt that the extra social pressure takes its toll. For most of the weekend I collapse thankfully into sleep or junk-TV watching. I eat entire packets of chocolate biscuits then berate myself for being so fat, lazy, unmotivated, hideous, ill, ill, ill. Neil asks me, fearfully, if I've taken my medication. Yes, yes, yes, but I am still mad, you see. The medication takes the sharp edges off but you can still be hurt by the blunt ones. My things arrived at Neil's two weeks ago and are still half-packed. I don't have enough cupboard space for my clothes, pantry room for my food, bookshelves for my books. My belongings randomly overflow out of boxes like the disjointed conversations I have with people at work. Nothing makes sense, there's no rhyme nor reason, no place for my Big Ole Crazy to be. I miss having space. I miss having peace and quiet and nothingness. It was easier to convince people I was okay when I didn't actually have to see them. I don't know if I can do this. But I am still here, trying. Title post from Death Cab For Cutie's "I Will Follow You Into The Dark"
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
do you know the one where we all live happily
Hi everyone! I'm so sorry I've been away from the blogosphere, and crikey I have missed you all )-: Contrary to how I sometimes feel these days, I'm surviving and occasionally thriving. Went back to work fulltime two weeks ago and jeez it's been tough. I miss my four day weekends. I miss having a lazy ass job where I was able to write and check blogs every day. But, I am looking forward to my first pay cheque next week and to having enough money to start repaying my parents for all their financial support since my last breakdown in 2009.
I have a job working for a government department, it's fairly basic data entry and it's quiet and that suits me just now. I think going back to work fulltime is hard enough without having to cope with stress or phones ringing and people needing me to help them, etc. Sometimes I feel bored, but that's natural right? Sometimes (often) I feel tired, but given my new lifestyle that's expected, right?
Mostly, I have maintained a positive mood which is probably thanks to the Cymbalta and Solian more than anything else. Life outside work is going well, though there are major changes in my home life to contend with along with the changes at work. Michelle, my housemate, met a nice man six months ago and they have decided to move in together. Awesome for them, but it meant I had the choice of trying to find a new room-mate, trying to live on my own (financially difficult) or moving in with Neil. After discussion Neil and I decided I should move in with him, which I'm both excited and terrified about! He lives with his obtuse and recalcitrant 19 year old son and his small dog, and as you know I am devoted to my moody cat. His house is a lot further out of the city (where I work) and further from public transport. But apart from these minor issues, I think it's going to be great for our relationship and will save me money. Neil owns his home and doesn't want me to pay rent - so I can put that money aside for saving or repaying my parents. I'll obviously contribute to all the bills, but even so I will be a lot better off financially. I love and adore him, too!! So that's a positive environment to be in. It's just a change, that's all, and one that may bring out the worst in me, my mental illness, our relationship, etc. Moving day is April 2nd so wish us luck!
Doc A has been away in Italy at a conference, and I cancelled my last appointment, so it's been about six weeks since I saw him. With all these changes, I could have done with the support. He's stopped doing after hours consultations, so I don't know how I will juggle fulltime work with therapy. But I know I need to try and work it out.
I need to get back to work so I have to be brief. Michelle took her computer when she moved out, so I have no option for reading blogs except lunch breaks at work. I miss everyone so much! I hope you're all hanging in there, and finding some happiness. I will try and check in more often and update you guys.
Lots of love, Lil xx
Post title is from Lisa Mitchell "Coin Laundry".
I have a job working for a government department, it's fairly basic data entry and it's quiet and that suits me just now. I think going back to work fulltime is hard enough without having to cope with stress or phones ringing and people needing me to help them, etc. Sometimes I feel bored, but that's natural right? Sometimes (often) I feel tired, but given my new lifestyle that's expected, right?
Mostly, I have maintained a positive mood which is probably thanks to the Cymbalta and Solian more than anything else. Life outside work is going well, though there are major changes in my home life to contend with along with the changes at work. Michelle, my housemate, met a nice man six months ago and they have decided to move in together. Awesome for them, but it meant I had the choice of trying to find a new room-mate, trying to live on my own (financially difficult) or moving in with Neil. After discussion Neil and I decided I should move in with him, which I'm both excited and terrified about! He lives with his obtuse and recalcitrant 19 year old son and his small dog, and as you know I am devoted to my moody cat. His house is a lot further out of the city (where I work) and further from public transport. But apart from these minor issues, I think it's going to be great for our relationship and will save me money. Neil owns his home and doesn't want me to pay rent - so I can put that money aside for saving or repaying my parents. I'll obviously contribute to all the bills, but even so I will be a lot better off financially. I love and adore him, too!! So that's a positive environment to be in. It's just a change, that's all, and one that may bring out the worst in me, my mental illness, our relationship, etc. Moving day is April 2nd so wish us luck!
Doc A has been away in Italy at a conference, and I cancelled my last appointment, so it's been about six weeks since I saw him. With all these changes, I could have done with the support. He's stopped doing after hours consultations, so I don't know how I will juggle fulltime work with therapy. But I know I need to try and work it out.
I need to get back to work so I have to be brief. Michelle took her computer when she moved out, so I have no option for reading blogs except lunch breaks at work. I miss everyone so much! I hope you're all hanging in there, and finding some happiness. I will try and check in more often and update you guys.
Lots of love, Lil xx
Post title is from Lisa Mitchell "Coin Laundry".
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
just a jump to the left
And then a step to the right. To and fro, up and down, here and there. Life is a comedy of swings and roundabouts lately, and if I didn't know better I would wonder if I were experiencing a mixed episode... Recently I spent the majority of ten days in bed, paralysed with the crippling grief of depression and swallowed whole by a black cloud. An appointment with Doc A (the first one in 3 months due to his vacation) had me upping my Cymbalta meds and since then things have improved. But one of the things I instigated while I was languishing in my depressive episode was to quit my job.
Rather than it being an impulsive act, or the result of a breakdown, I decided to quit because my job has steadily become too easy, too boring, too pointless, too... well, too simple to just not go. There are a lot of positives, and they were very kind to me last year when I had my month of mental health leave, but in the end it was time for me to move on. I've decided to look for full-time work, which is terrifying but necessary. I need money. I need private health insurance, and to pay $500 to finalise my divorce. I need a decent haircut and colour. I need new shoes. I've been finding it increasingly impossible to live on the part-time wage I was receiving, so I have to at least TRY to work more hours. I've done it before, and I believe that if I find a job that's halfway interesting and productive I will be happy to go full-time. Even if it's just for six months or a year until I get ahead again.
I can't lie, though, it's a scary proposition. I am used to having four days a week to spend in bed recovering from working three days. I am used to a slack workplace that expects very little where I can (as I am now!!) check blogs, write emails and apply for other jobs without anyone commenting. Bring it on, though. I kind of look forward to having expectations placed upon me, I almost believe that I will rise to the occasion and perform as required. At the moment, even though so little is required of me, I still languish in depression and lazy bed-ridden-ness. My mum made the point that I may as well "die trying"!! If I am going to have a massive meltdown why not do it while earning stacks of money and doing a high-faluting job??
Thus far, I've had a few interviews and been offered one job which seemed to be nearly as boring as the one I have now. I have until March 3 at my current position, so there's time to find something. Neil and I are going to Melbourne tomorrow for a few days holiday, which I am SO looking forward to. I get to introduce him to my friend H, and we are going to a great zoo over there which has open range safari type landscape with African animals. My parents paid for the plane tickets as a Christmas present, and Neil has saved up the spending money as I am ridiculously poor )-: I am looking forward to the break, and some time spent with my lovely boy. We had a great Valentine's yesterday, went out for dinner and talked about possibly moving in together at some stage over the next few months. YIKES!! Big changes!
Rather than it being an impulsive act, or the result of a breakdown, I decided to quit because my job has steadily become too easy, too boring, too pointless, too... well, too simple to just not go. There are a lot of positives, and they were very kind to me last year when I had my month of mental health leave, but in the end it was time for me to move on. I've decided to look for full-time work, which is terrifying but necessary. I need money. I need private health insurance, and to pay $500 to finalise my divorce. I need a decent haircut and colour. I need new shoes. I've been finding it increasingly impossible to live on the part-time wage I was receiving, so I have to at least TRY to work more hours. I've done it before, and I believe that if I find a job that's halfway interesting and productive I will be happy to go full-time. Even if it's just for six months or a year until I get ahead again.
I can't lie, though, it's a scary proposition. I am used to having four days a week to spend in bed recovering from working three days. I am used to a slack workplace that expects very little where I can (as I am now!!) check blogs, write emails and apply for other jobs without anyone commenting. Bring it on, though. I kind of look forward to having expectations placed upon me, I almost believe that I will rise to the occasion and perform as required. At the moment, even though so little is required of me, I still languish in depression and lazy bed-ridden-ness. My mum made the point that I may as well "die trying"!! If I am going to have a massive meltdown why not do it while earning stacks of money and doing a high-faluting job??
Thus far, I've had a few interviews and been offered one job which seemed to be nearly as boring as the one I have now. I have until March 3 at my current position, so there's time to find something. Neil and I are going to Melbourne tomorrow for a few days holiday, which I am SO looking forward to. I get to introduce him to my friend H, and we are going to a great zoo over there which has open range safari type landscape with African animals. My parents paid for the plane tickets as a Christmas present, and Neil has saved up the spending money as I am ridiculously poor )-: I am looking forward to the break, and some time spent with my lovely boy. We had a great Valentine's yesterday, went out for dinner and talked about possibly moving in together at some stage over the next few months. YIKES!! Big changes!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Childless Women - Lacking An Essential Humanity??
I found a link to this really interesting and thought-provoking exhibition on a blog I follow Edge of Everywhere. Moved by the negative reactions to her and other women’s decisions not to have children, Miriam Schaer embroidered real quotes onto white baby dresses with red thread, creating a shocking visual representation of the societal prejudice against childless women.The artist writes:
“Selfish… Neurotic… Irresponsible… Immature… Unfeminine… Unfulfilling… Materialistic… Uptight… Deviant” — all words I have heard to characterize my decision to not have children, a decision transforming me into a target of one of society’s remaining and widely held prejudices.
Baby (Not) on Board: The Last Prejudice?, addresses the question of why the existence of women who choose maternal independence over child-rearing angers or offends so many people and institutions. The work presented here is part of a continuing exploration of our culture’s pejorative views about women without kids. For Baby (Not) on Board: The Last Prejudice?, I hand-embroidered representative negative comments on baby dresses using red thread to create scarlet letters. Gathered from interviews with childless women, online research, and personal experience, the statements taunt and accuse, and are typical of an endless flow of critical statements that seem to be growing bolder even as non-traditional families are gaining greater acceptance.
These pictures really touched me, as a woman who for most of her life has been uninterested in having children. I've most definitely had that decision questioned, sometimes almost vilified, even though I have the "excuse" of being physically unable to easily bear children and probably having to have had IVF or similar if I had been keen on having children. I just have so many reasons why kids can't and won't be a part of my life, not the least because of my mental illness. I have nieces and nephews I adore, but in general I find children uninteresting and irrelevant to me and my life. Why is this so horrifying to people?
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
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...
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