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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and i'll be willin' to be movin'

Surreal though it is, I am all moved in. I feel kind of like a teenager leaving for college, without the frat parties and pillow fights, and with three nervous breakdowns and a mess of medications on my resume. In short, it's scary. No money, no family support, no hitching a lift wherever I want to go. I'm ashamed to admit that in my former daily routine my mom doled out everyone's various medications and vitamin supplements, including mine, and this morning when I had to lay out my own meds I thought I was going to cry. Pathetic!! The thing is, I KNOW I have to suck it up and cope, and I know that once I get used to flying solo it will be fun and exhilirating and inspiring (the way it used to be, back before the Mr Ex days). But this adjustment period is tough, you know? Being with Michelle is awesome, so that's one benefit, and this morning I got to work in less than half the time it usually takes. This is me, Lil, focusing on the positives...

Anyway, I am happy with how things are in the new place, everything fits (kind of) and everything looks good (mostly). Basically I have FAR TOO MUCH CRAP, and am planning to cull some of it over the next couple of months. One of the problems with living in large houses, as I've done for ten years, is that I never threw anything out -- consequently, I found a lot of things while unpacking that I thought "What??" Stupidly, one of the things I found was my quarter-written book about I. Oliver, and even more stupidly I re-read the thing and no doubt that contributed to my slightly dark mood. Decent writing, but such a sad time in my life.

We don't have internet connection at home yet, so I am having to check emails, blog, etc from work, so forgive me if I'm not around as much. I also am having issues commenting on Blogger blogs, for some strange reason - it comes up saying error on page. Hannah and Ruby Tuesday, I particularly wanted to send big loves to you both but have been unable ): I also can't seem to comment on my own posts, hence the clumsy edit situation on my previous post. Is this why people have been abandoning Blogger for Wordpress?? Can't say I blame them, as it's driving me to distraction.

(Linda Rondstadt - "Willin'")

between fight and flight is the blind man's sight

Herewith a brief update on the Life of Lil.

My grandmother is home from hospital, and much better. The infection has cleared up, and with its passing has come the welcome passing of the dementia (apart from her normal 91- year-old befuddledness). The Aged Care Assessment Team have recommended, though, that she be placed in permanent care now her health is deteriorating, unless one of us can be home with her at all times. That's just not financially possible as we aren't entitled to any carer's allowances from the government, and both my parents are still working. Usually Nanna is only home one or two days a week on her own, but that's too much now. So we've started the process of finding a decent nursing home for her. She's quite happy about the idea, as she gets lonely here on her own and while she was in hospital she told us she enjoyed having other people around all the time. There are a few places locally, and we'll try to get her in to somewhere nicer and newer with a good reputation. Aged care seems to be one of those areas that there is a major difference between the top and bottom "levels" even though it's supposed to be regulated and checked by the government.

In the midst of all this, Michelle and I finally heard on Friday that we got our house! We're signing the lease on Monday, and I have started the daunting task of packing. So far, there are 11 boxes OF BOOKS ALONE! We have a study nook/office area at the new place which Michelle has suggested I set up as a reading room - which is a great idea and such a relief as I wouldn't know where to put all the darn books otherwise. I can't part with them, though, they have been my best friends through the years. What is weird, given my bizarre childhood and tenuous relations with family, is that it seems strange and scary to be moving away from my mom. We've only become close in the last few years, partly through living together and sharing the care of nanna. Especially in the last 12 months, during my breakdown, we've actually connected on an adult and non-angry level. I hope that doesn't change once I'm gone from here. She's been supportive and positive about the move, which is awesome. For the first time in 12 years I'm going to be living solo, albeit with a roomie!

Mostly, I am thrilled about the opportunity to form my own independent life again and to live with Michelle will be a lot of fun. We have a lot in common and are more like sisters (she's 13 years younger than me). I can't wait to be closer to the city, and to my workplace, and to be released from the watching nanna, cooking, cleaning regime. Obviously my own place will need cleaning, and my own meals need cooking, but not in the same institutional way! I bought a new washing machine and a vacuum cleaner as well as some of the boring domestic supplies. The big moving day is Saturday 21st November. Wish me luck!!

Health-wise, I am still thriving on the current med combination and am managing to sleep well. I have my neurologist appointment tomorrow to find out more about the Borderline Chiari Malformation that showed up on my MRI. The headaches are still there, but I'm dealing with them, so if nothing comes from the specialist then it's no big deal. I'd rather avoid the "removing part of my skull" operation if at all possible LOL.

turn and face the change

This is a partial reprint of the online ad for my potential new home. We still haven't heard from the agent, but it can take up to two weeks for them to decide on the successful tenant. Meanwhile, the agent gets to keep my $260 "option fee" until the decision is made.

Speaking of decisions, three days ago my mum and I took my nanna to the Emergency Department as her pulmonary infection was not improving, even with antibiotics and (even more alarmingly) she was showing signs of delirium. She is usually quite lucid and aware, even though she is almost 91, but Thursday she began to act strangely (like sitting in bed in the dark trying to read and telling us about apparations she had seen, flowers on the ceiling etc). Her GP Doc thought it might be delirium caused by the chest infection so we took her straight to the ER on Friday when she was no better. Six hours later she was admitted to a ward and it seems now that she has sudden onset dementia which may or may not improve once the infection is cleared up. My brother works in aged care and he seems to think that sometimes, often, that kind of mental deterioration is permanent. In a way, it's okay because she actually seems very happy and relaxed in her "new world" whereas usually she would be angry and stressed about being sick. She recognises us but doesn't really have any "context" for things, and is content to sit beside her hospital bed gazing out the window. We were really concerned that she would be frustrated at having to stay in hospital, but that hasn't happened at all.

It's disturbing, having had a mostly coherent grandmother for almost 40 years and now, practically overnight, seeing her change into a muddled childlike person. I'm surprised by how upsetting it is. I can't stop thinking about all the things I shared with nanna that she will (probably) now forget, leaving me as the only "keeper of the memory". We were very close when I was growing up, she was a substitute for my own mother whom I was not close to, we would cook and play cards and watch TV. I especially loved the TV as my own house didn't have one until I was 14 (stupid intellectual parents LOL).

Mr Ex usually comes over to see the dog and cats on Sundays and this morning he texted me to say he couldn't make it. I called him back to tell him about nanna, as he was close to her when we were together (having never had his own grandparents around). I was irritated with myself as I teared up and then cried while telling him, and allowed myself to be comforted by him, and then I was angry because I let myself be vulnerable. He was understanding and kind, basically he is a decent person, and I suppose it's hard to break the habit after ten years of being supported by him. Such a lot of mixed emotions today and it's not even 10am haha!

six months on, the winter's gone*

My friend Michelle and I submitted an application for a rental house this morning. Very VERY exciting, and also completely terrifying (in the way of all great things lol). Am I sane enough to leave the comfort and safety of sharing a house with my parents? Can I keep working and therefore support myself financially? How will it feel to have to leave my dog and one cat behind, as logistically there is no way my new arrangement can include them? These are all things I believe I can overcome, mostly because there is NO OTHER CHOICE. I simply cannot remain in this state of flux that I've inhabited since I split up with Mr Ex and began the long process of becoming mental. I refuse to get left behind as the rest of the world, and the potential of my life, moves on without me. I feel compelled to get out there kicking and screaming, which may just be a side effect of the atypical anti-psychotic but what the hey...

It's a small-ish, grotty-ish duplex, with two bedrooms, fairly big living area and a small study nook type thing. Crapola backyard. Has my main requirement - a bath tub. One addiction I don't need to get rid of - phew. It's a mauve-lilac purple bath, actually, tres posh. The place also has ceiling fans (bonus, as jeez it's getting hot in here), a new stove, built-in robes and is 30 mins from my workplace. Currently I spent 1.5 - 2 hrs travelling each way, and oh man am I OVER that. There's a lot to be positive about, even though Michelle and I jokingly call it the "Juliette Lewis skanky duplex". It's also extremely cheap - $260 a week (for my O/S friends that's approx 138 GBP, $230USD) which is $40 a week less than most of the places we've looked at. 80% of places in Perth are over $400 a week these days, which still freaks me out. Rents have doubled in the last ten years, and I can guarantee that my wages certainly haven't increased by that much.

Anyway, apart from that there's not much news. My nanna is fairly ill with a pulmonary condition and has pretty much been bedridden all week. Am fighting the guilt about the chance of me moving out and leaving her... I have a bastard head cold, which is annoying me, and it's hot again - yuck. I've been doing well on my current medication (40mg fluoxetine a day, 10mg amisulpride, plus supplements) and Dr A told me last week he was proud of the way I had managed my work issues and was moving ahead. I know he gets paid to "validate the Borderline" but it was still nice to hear. My family are also being extremely supportive, even though me moving out will leave them financially and logistically in a hard place. My mom especially will miss me, as I share cooking, shopping, supporting roles with her. But we are looking to the future, and I need to step out from under this codependency umbrella, ella, ella....


* Belle & Sebastian - 'My Wandering Days Are Over'

i turned my face away and i dreamed about you

I have this weird theory that when I dream about certain people, it means they are dreaming about me (or thinking about me, if that person resides in a different time zone lol). Clearly this doesn't relate to the strange dream I had once about being in Starbucks with George Clooney... sadly. But I had a dream recently about a bloke I call The One That Got Away. We've all got one, well most of us, someone who was always at the back of our minds, and in our lives, as a potential mate but the timing was wrong, the the situation was impossible, and thus the person remains just a friend. In my case, even the friendship was lost due to Steve (TOTGA) moving across the country and us losing touch. But I think about him often, and he is one of the few people that I can imagine being in a relationship with without wanting to run away screaming, or start gagging. I think it's partly because the trust is there, you know, it's not like starting fresh with some guy who may or may not turn out to be an axe murderer or a mouth breather.

I met Steve through a cult I used to hang with. It was one of those quasi-interpersonal cults, focused on self-reflection rather than a residential David Koresh/Jim Jones deal with a fatal end result. Both of us moved away from the cult, actually I think the Puerto Rican leader went to jail for embezzlement or something, but our friendship was solid. One of the things the cult believed in was the soul astral travelling to another plane while we slept, so maybe that's one of the reasons I imagine Steve is dreaming about me when I dream of him. It was one of those realistic dreams when I asked a number of times in the dream "I'm not dreaming, am I?" but of course, the fantasy ends and I wake up still having not seen or spoken to TOTGA since 1994. Steve is the main reason I am on the Evil Empire of Facebook, just in case he ever wants to find me...

Things in therapy have been getting to a flashpoint, if that's the right word. It's hard work sometimes, a lot of the time really, but recently I feel like it's starting to pay off. I'm achieving clarity in the way I view my relationships, esp with my family and their patterns of behaviour. I need to get a one-way ticket out of Martyrville. Dr A talked to me about how the "nice girl" persona I have, where I seem accommodating and easy-going, mimics my mother's passive-aggressive relationship with my nanna. She resents the hell out of nanna, bitches and moans about her and her lack of parenting and yet runs around after her and constantly puts her own needs second to my nanna's. I think I grew up thinking that was the way to win friends and influence people, but now I see that it's a massive cop out and it's SO dishonest. She (I) just doesn't want to address her (my) own desires and requirements, and then make the changes to get them. I REFUSE to be like this anymore! I'm becoming "selfish" in that I put myself and my journey first - as long as it doesn't hurt or harm others I think that's how it should be. I can love and support other people without being their "bitch" haha!!

Regardless of how difficult it is, I am aiming to live an authentic, real life someday. I'm not there yet, but I'm working on it. I decided today that regardless of the financial cost, I'm filing for divorce this week. Screw the money, I need the closure. If Mr Ex will pay for half, that's fine, but if need be I will cancel my summer vacation and spend the money getting my name back. I keep saying to myself "You go girl", and I know I can hear all your wonderful supportive voices saying the same thing. I don't say it enough, readers/friends, but thank you.

(title from the pogues/kirsty macoll (RIP) fairytale of new york)

when one's heart is in the way

I had a phone call from Dr A this morning, wondering why I hadn't shown up for my 8:30am appointment. Because I thought it was at 3pm, I replied, truthful and embarrassed, with a part of me thrilled to have (for the first time) demonstrated behaviour outside the "acceptable". I've read so many comments about psychologists and psychiatrists not wanting to take on Borderline patients, for a lot of reasons, one of which is that they can be unreliable and cancel appointments, reschedule appointments, leave early, arrive late, in an attempt to manipulate their doctors. Or maybe they just wrote down the wrong time in their diary. It can happen! It was weird, to hear Dr A's slightly stern and questioning tone, almost apprehensive about what state he would find me in. As if I must be bed-ridden and avoiding, or molten with melancholy, unable to face him. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved to actually be just forgetful and inaccurate with my diary.

I was happy to not have to go to therapy today, not because I was any of the thing listed above, but simply because I usually don't make appointments for Thursdays. Thursday is my one day off during the working week, and I love it with a passionate intensity usually reserved for...well...I don't know what, but I used to be passionate and intense about things other than time off from work lol. These days, I just like to have my own timetable, and not have to be anywhere or see anyone. Even now I am non-avoiding, and trying to be interactive with the world, I leave Thursdays alone. The potential of them stretches out in front of me like the most inspiring and wonderful blank canvas - even though I usually just watch TV or go have coffee with my stepdad and nanna at the local shopping centre.

One of the reasons I was happy to avoid Dr A is the eternal question of WHAT TO WEAR. I have three distinct wardrobes, the Manic (push-up bras, heels, lowcut tops, dangly earrings), the Barely Functioning (track pants, sweats, anything shapeless and stretchy, preferably dark colours, greasy hair in a scrunchy) and my current wardrobe of somewhere inbetween. Inbetween is a work in progress, and I usually have to decide if I should wear a hat (which I like to do, fashion-wise), in case Dr A thinks it's because I am depressed and haven't washed my hair. I have to decide whether to wear makeup (haggard and washed out versus trying too hard and/or over-activated), whether to wear sneakers and jeans (casual or giving up?), or a flattering top and skirt (trying to transfer/crack on?). I know for a fact that how I present myself as a psychiatric patient is something that is noticed, and probably recorded and analysed. I know, I know, paranoid much? But, it's common sense to think that a shrink would take stock of my physical state as well as my mental one.

As always, as with every damn thing in my life, I over think and over stress. I can't say I lose sleep over the question (WHAT TO WEAR), but I definitely spend time on it. So after hearing from Dr A, and getting the reprieve, I happily put on my favourite baggy jeans, a cute pink shirt, and my fur-lined pink Crocs. This afternoon, we're heading to the shops for a coffee. And for just a moment or two, I imagine that this is what happiness feels like.

(Thanks to Tori for today's blog title, from Moment in Time)

in a bullet proof vest with the windows all closed

In the last couple of weeks my grandmother (who regular readers will know lives with me and my parents) has suffered from deteriorating health. She's approaching 91, and has been lucky to not have any life-threatening or serious illness; because of that she almost seems to be oblivious to her (statistically speaking) approaching death! She had a minor stroke about five years ago, and came to live with us, and has been in good health since then. Last week she had a couple of dizzy spells, and possibly had one or more TIAs (like mini strokes), and consequently we've needed to keep a closer eye on her (and help her to shower, walk to the bathroom, etc).

The reason I mention this is that I decided I would offer to move out of my master bedroom with ensuite bathroom so my nanna can move in. Mr Ex and I had the master bedroom when we first moved in, and when he left I got to keep it. I am fairly obsessive about germs, particularly when it comes to bathrooms, and sharing a bathroom is very very low on my "to do" list. It seemed like it was important, though, and also I thought it might prepare me for next year when I plan to move out of here. Previously, my nanna has inhabited the two back bedrooms of the house and shared a bathroom with my parents. But there was a dining room, bathroom, laundry, and another bedroom between her room and my parents', so at night we were concerned she might call out and no-one would hear. The master bedroom is opposite the formal lounge room that my parents use as their bedroom, so nanna will be closer to them, and also having her own bathroom adjacent to her bed will be easier. Naturally, in the way of narcissists, she managed to be both ungrateful for my sacrifice and irritated that she got to sit in the family room relaxing while the rest of us schlepped her many china cabinets, chairs and occasional tables up to her new quarters.

In terms of square feet of space, I think the two smaller rooms are about equal to the master bedroom. All of my stuff has fitted in to them, and each has a built-in closet which combined are almost the same as the walk-in closet I had in my other room. I have one room set up for sleeping and one with a couch and desk and book shelves. The main drawback is sharing the bathroom...but I will adjust. I do think it will prepare me to live in shared accommodation, in case I can't afford my own place next year. I also think being "less comfortable" is a good thing, as it will encourage me to live outside these four walls.

I am in agony today, after shifting all the furniture. But it has been fun to put my things away in new places and to throw some old junk away. I've discovered a few hobbies and interests that I'd let drop, which I may take up again. And I know that health-wise it's better to have my PC in a room where I don't sleep. I miss my sparkling, scrubbed, fragrantly-deodorized, my-germs-only bathroom! In the way of things, I am trying to make the best of what I know is the "right" choice.

In other news, I'm thrilled to welcome Procrastination and Her One-Eyed Dog to my life. My virtual-world friend Kate has gifted her to me, and I'm happy to have such a quirky, beautiful, clever gift in my life (describes the girl AND the stitching lol).

(title of today's post comes from my favourite Coldplay song "See You Soon")

"Star" Of The Week

In case the cheerleader didn't give it away - I got the job! My dream job, helping out with events and admin for a literacy charity, starts on Tuesday and I couldn't be more thrilled. In contrast to my last ill-fated new job, which I was dreading and felt nervous about, I can't wait to get started at DF. I went there today to sign the paperwork and meet everyone -- the clincher for me is that there are no men working there! As much as I love blokes (love them too much, to my detriment haha), I think that having them in my workplace has been a major distraction for me. No doubt I will be lamenting their absence soon!! When I get bored and cast my eyes around the office for some eye candy...

Although it sounds trite, I have been desperately wanting a job that gave something back to the community. It's something I've talked about to my friends and family for the last year, and this opportunity is wonderful. I love reading, am passionate about it, and helping people to read is a dream come true. Also, the job will use my wide range of skills - unlike other jobs I've had which focused more on either PR/marketing or office admin, this one has both aspects. I'm excited for the first time in months.

Last night I picked up my birthday present (a month early!), which was my new ten pin bowling ball.

It may be a coincidence but the first frame I bowled was 60 pins over average (which qualifies for a Star of The Week Certificate lol). I've only been bowling since January but I truly love it, even at my lowest points this year I've managed to get to league and smile and have fun. I owe my friend Michelle EVERYTHING for introducing me to ten pin - our team is called No Deal and we have heaps of goofy sayings and signals. Crazy, but fun. My parents and Mr Ex clubbed together to buy my new ball - they rock! I've named her "Pinky".

So all in all, a great couple of days. I'm hoping to get to the gym tomorrow and do some grocery shopping. Looking after the family is tricky, but I'm finding organisation helps (menu planning, timetables, etc!!) Two adults (plus me), four cats and a dog are all being fed and medicated correctly and on time. In some ways, I'm finding having the extra responsibility is a good motivator. If I don't drag my arse out of bed and cook dinner then everyone goes hungry, not just me. Mum called and she is having a terrific time, which is great - I'm so happy I managed to keep it together long enough for her to feel she could leave us all without me cracking up. If she'd missed out on this trip because of my illness I would have been devastated. I hope she brings me back something cool from Laos! I collect snow globes but somehow I don't think they have a lot of those in the Golden Triangle...

The Wastrel, and Day 4's Cartoon

As mentioned previously, I'm supporting www.mentalhealthcartoons.com and Chato B. Stewart's cartoon-a-thon for Mental Health Month. Above is the cartoon for Day 4 - great work from Mr Stewart! Stay tuned for my caricature later in the month...

The last few days have been blah. There's a lot of it going around, methinks. I have been struggling to get out of bed, feeling fibromyalgic for the first time since I discovered Reverse Therapy in 2006/07. Back then, with my wonderful therapist Maxine, and a lot of work, I recovered from FM, and I know using the same techniques again will help me. If only I had the energy. It's a Catch 22 similar to that I experience in CBT -- the therapy is brilliant, and works, but applying it requires commitment and strength that is sometimes beyond my capabilities. Well, it's NOT beyond my capabilities but it FEELS beyond them. Let's face it, showering is more than I can cope with on cripplingly tired days (like today).

I need to exercise, I need to drink more water, I need to stop eating crisps while watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer. My mother goes to Laos (a country near Vietnam and Thailand) for ten days as of tomorrow night which leaves me with primary responsibility for shopping, cooking, cleaning for my nanna and my stepdad. Is that the approaching foghorn of HMS Panic?? Today is the closing date for my Dream Job, so the decision will be made tomorrow or Wednesday. It's clear to me, even clearer as I write this, that my Taken Abed-ness is a direct response to these extra pressures. Once I move into the "Doing: One Step At A Time" phase I know I will gather enough momentum to remain upright for as long as necessary. My mantra is Hope For The Best, Prepare For The Worst.

Sleeping Sickness

The last few days have passed in a blur. A lot of napping, which always makes me worried that I am slipping back into the damn hole that Black Dog keeps digging. I also tend to sleep as a way to avoid my two family members who are home during the day -- I get even more morose when I have to sit and listen to my grandmother complain about things she has seen on television, or about the fact that she has developed light freckling on her arms (she is 90 years old). My shrink reckons Nanna sounds like a classic Narcissist, or Person of The Lie as M Scott Peck described. It has taken me 38 years to realise that just because a person is elderly, white haired and knits does not make them a jolly, benign cartoon-style grandmother. My mother is the nut she is because she was raised by my even nuttier Nanna in an atmosphere that was at best ignorant, at worst truly evil. And I cut Mom some slack because of that... My mom knows no better, she mostly did her half-hearted best to raise me and the fact that I was party raised by my grandmother (while my mom worked), well... I don't think Mom had realised then just how damaging my grandmother is/was. I feel so guilty even criticising my grandmother here in my journal. But sometimes I am so angry with her and so bitter that I have to fight not to put a pillow over her head (or throw myself off the nearest building). She is perpetually complaining, criticising, ungrateful of the fact that we do EVERYTHING for her from make her tea to do her laundry, even though she is not physically disabled in the slightest. She is just lazy and used to having everything done for her. I know, I know, she's 90 years old and probably deserves some respect, but wow it is HARD to give her any. I think that respect needs to be earned, and I don't know if I can forgive her for putting my Mom (and then me) in harm's way. Jeez. Living with her is THE WORST place for me to be. I know. It's definitely contributed to the most recent mental issues I'm having. I've made a deal with Dr A that I will work towards moving out into my own place within the next 6 months.

I suppose that gives me some incentive to return to work, as disability won't cover rent and bills if I'm living alone. I had to deal with our government social security/welfare agency this week, as my leave entitlements from work are finally used up. It's a long time since I had to deal with welfare, and the recent economic downturn has meant an increase in the number of people applying for benefits and therefore the amount of time it takes to be dealt with. I got to the agency at 7:30am, knowing that the line would build up before opening time of 8am. By the time the doors opened there were 40-50 people already waiting in line. I finally left the agency just after 9am. The amount of money I will qualify for is about a quarter of what I would usually earn, so it won't cover my living expenses (hence, I am stuck living with my family for the next while). Sometimes I wonder if I would have been better off staying married... a different set of issues there I suppose. There is so much I need to learn about myself and how to deal with life, it's exhausting to the point of being incapacitating.

I Was A Nightmare, You Were A Saint

I don't make a habit of reviewing films. For great discussions of Rachel Getting Married you should visit Wandering Coyote's blog, Bon Dobbs (isn't that a cool name??) or Mystery Man On Film. These guys do a better job of describing the film than I could. I only reference the film here in relation to me and my experience of it! What's new haha? I saw the film today, and loved it... related to it, admired it, hated it because of the reflected pain from my own life/family history. During the film I kept remembering Marsha Linehan's description of BPD as having third degree burns on the emotional skin, so that every tiny experience of pain is amplified to agonising. Personally, I most often say that it's like every bone in my body is broken, as the pain from a burn is more "searing" or sharp, and my emotional pain is not usually so acute. More dull, throbbing, aching, permanently "there" on the periphery of my awareness.

Anyway, I am a huge fan of Anne Hathaway, being a dedicated Princess Diaries fan. I thought she did a remarkable job playing the character Kym, who may or may not be Bipolar or Borderline but has certainly struggled with an addiction to narcotics and an eating disorder. Kym demonstrates a plethora of character traits and behaviours a lot of us can relate to- rapid mood cycling, impulsivity, confusion of self, paranoia, and Anne Hathaway is interesting and convincing in the role. I would like to say the movie or her performance made me cry, but in fact I was just crying as accompaniment, really didn't notice a stopping or starting of the tears, they were just part of the whole experience. I really couldn't NOT cry... I was sorrowful... I was struck all over again by how damnably hard it can be to form relationships with ANYONE, let alone people we are thrown together with by accident of genetics/birth. At one stage, there was a parade of seemingly healthy, outgoing, sociable and articulate people wishing the bride and groom well -- an inexplicably mulitnational, musically gifted group of friends and family. People quoted, emoted, sang, played saxaphone. And you just know there's going to be Kym's turn coming around, and she will be the odd one out. I don't know if I believe in the well-rounded and blessed first group, they just don't ring true for me. Emotional truth and raw, bleak honesty, however, seem to be what fits. The title of this post is one of Kym's great one-liners. Without spoiling the plot for anyone who wants to see Rachel Getting Married, I completely dissolved into sympatico giggles when Kym starts to say "That's not fair!" People in the audience behind me were tsk tsking at the character, criticising her I suppose for her self-centredness. But Kym, honey, I hear ya. Sometimes, it ain't fair.

On a musical note -- yay that the little-known UK balladeer Robyn Hitchcock gets to play himself and sing a couple of tunes during the wedding reception. He reminds me of the folk greats...Dylan...Neil Young (wonder what Mr Young thought of Unknown Legend being acapella-ed during the Rachel Getting Married wedding ceremony??)

Darth Vader, Chloe from 24 and Tony Soprano

Apart from being moody and melancholy, the three fictional characters in the title of this post have all come under suspicion as having Borderline Personality Disorder. I know there are more, a lot more, but those three came up in a Google Images search I did for BPD. I wanted to change my Facebook profile picture to something suitably dark and depressive. I ended up with a picture of Lucy from Peanuts in her 5c Psychiatry booth (see above).

I'm finding it hard to posit myself in the BPD spectrum. If you think about the 3 characters listed above, it's hard to remember them smiling, laughing, or experiencing genuine mirth that wasn't at the expense (often physical painful lol) of others. I consider myself to be pretty damn hilarious and light of spirit...sometimes...and most of the things I've read and seen about BPD seem to focus on the dark side. Old Darth should be the poster child... Maybe that's going to be where I find my niche in all this psychiatric BS, to be the Borderline Personality Comedienne. There were a couple of cartoons I liked in the BPD Google Image library, which I will probably post on here sometime. One was a guy buying a t-shirt that said "Ask Me About My Borderline Personality Disorder" and his friend asks "What's on the back?" and the guy shows him that it reads "Or I swear to God I'll kill myself". Fark I thought that was hilarious. Does that mean I DON'T have BPD???? Luckily I've still got my sense of humour and my self-relflexivity...I think those are more successful weapons against mental illness than these darn drugs.

Speaking of which...

Dr A saw me last week and I was super agitated and cranky. He recommended I go in for an inpatient stay in the PC (Clinic) to get me off the Effexor (aka "SideEffexor"). Two weeks. Uninsured, costs about $2500 a week. As much as I would love to leave the comfort of my kingsize bed, my stocked fridge, my computer and my 2 cats (yeah right), I thought there had to be a better way. Cut a long story short, I am in Day 2 of Zero Medication. I know, it's crazy to just stop. To be honest, I took 150mg, then 75mg for a few days, and now am on nothing. No Valium, no mirtazapine, no EffexorXR. The withdrawal is nowhere near as bad as the freakin drug, which was amplifying everything and making me nauseous and headachy. But it's there... some of the electro-impulses I've read about, and the sluggishness. I saw Dr A today and he had a minor hissyfit about me going pretty much cold turkey off the meds, but had to agree that I am "noticeably" less agitated and clearer. We are keeping our fingers crossed that the withdrawal stays at this manageable level... I hated the Effexor SO MUCH. Zoloft was nowhere near as weird for me, it blunted me but no excess anger or mania or mood swings. Dr A asked to see my mom today in the session, to help her spot any "withdrawal" psychosis, etc - as I live with my parents currently I guess he thought she was the person who'd have to ring the psych unit if I flipped my lid haha. Anyway, having her in the session INFURIATED me (so much for the anger being subdued haha). I hate sharing lol!! I didn't want to emote or be honest with Dr A with her there, and I know that I could easily get fixated on the paranoid delusion that they are both against me. Intellectually, I know that's total BS. But the feeling was still there...