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.

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.

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...

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"

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...

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")

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.

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

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)

fate has been against me from the start

Not much to list these days, on the positive or the negative side of the tally. Work is completely off the chart lately. I was hired in May to co-ordinate the Foundation's biggest event of the year, which comes up next Monday and Tuesday. I've booked the venue (5 star hotel), accommodation for two speakers, managed to organise catering, invitations, name tags, checklists, and also a display of our literacy products for sale. I've even managed to sleep occasionally in between OCD flashes of inspiration/stress lol. Bottom line, I am looking forward to Wednesday when it will be all over and our visiting speaker (a Lord of the realm, gulp) will be winging his way back to the UK. Remember my last post when I lamented my lack of fashion-nouse, well let me tell you the concerns over what to wear to Dr A have paled in comparison to what to wear meeting Sir J. We also have Members of Parliament attending, high ranking public servants. Please, let Borderline Lil behave herself!

The good thing about being busy with something real, ie: work, is that it distracts me from the gigantic empty chasm that is my heart-felt life. Most of the time I cope well with being alone, spending time with friends is always a benefit and I am slowly exchanging my avoidant habits for social hobby-type things. I was talking to someone recently and realised that I have closed off my heart from even the idea of romantic/sexual relationships. Which is sad, cause once upon a time I was good at them and actually enjoyed them. Enjoyed the lead-up, the anticipation, the possibility and the consummation (ha ha). The person I was talking to is a true romantic, and it struck me that I used to be one too. These days I find it hard to remember how that felt, and why it changed. I just feel relieved that now I'm not dating I don't feel the need to study my body and catalogue its flaws, don't need to make sure my sheets are clean and my legs are stubble-free. No more second-guessing my conversation, studying the signs. For everything I miss or fondly remember about dating there are as many things that I'm relieved to leave behind.

Part of me hopes (damn hope that persistent little bitch) that I might find a place in my heart for love again. That my body and mind might be strong enough to enter the world of the relationship. I guess time will tell! In the meantime, I send out props to those of you who are still fighting the romantic fight, and putting your heart out there. In particular John, the Shane MacGowan-esque songwriter who supplied the title of today's post. You can listen to it here. If I was ten years younger and half a world from where I am, I might even develop a girly crush... Love your work, man x

The Trouble With Love

I've decided the trouble with love is that its a finite resource. Much like gold or copper, once its gone, all that's left behind is a dry and barren landscape which is good for nothing. Today I was thinking about all the great passion in my life, for boys mostly but also for "obsessions" (some ppl call them hobbies lol), and how that passion is so closely linked to my illness that I doubt I will ever "go there" again. I just couldn't trust myself to feel that extreme and still remain emotionally in control...yet I don't know how else to be when I am involved with someone or something new.

So I'm left with the feeling that while I may have a productive and sane life for the next 40 years, I doubt whether I will ever feel that grand love. I've spent the first half of my life being crazy for things...crazy for boy X,Y or Z, for girl A, or for Dawson's Creek/Barbies/Scrapbooking. Then I was just plan ole crazy. And now, I'm not crazy, I'm mostly stable and sane, but that seems to come at the price of losing the passion. Or at the very least curbing it.

I do think it's a step forward, to grow up and away from all-consuming hyperattachments, crushes and obsessions. But I think I will always miss that mania. This time last year, every breath was pure adrenalin and excitement. I longed to go to work to interact with Lewis, and to feel hilarious and gorgeous and fabulous. There was always that emptiness underneath, though, which is the nasty worm in the Borderline apple. While I may not scale the dizzying heights of lust and passion, these days I can sit safely in my own skin for long moments at a time without wanting to rip myself apart. It has to be a good thing.

Layered, As An Onion

Sometimes it feels like I am shuffling deck chairs on the Titanic (as they say). Or maybe I'm building a particularly precarious matchstick bridge over this raging torrent I call the River Crazy. As I posted yesterday, I constantly question the point of planning, of having ideas and making choices. What if, what if, what if. Nonetheless, I went to an interview yesterday for a job so exqusitively perfect for me it should be framed and hung on the wall in order for it never to tarnish or disappoint. Three days a week - exactly what I think will work best for me financially and logistically. With a not-for-profit organisation, specialising in literacy. Great team of women, laidback office, interesting and varied work. There were 6 of us on the shortlist, and I will find out one way or another by the middle of next week. Don't you just love that expression "one way or another"... such an innocuous way to describe the beginning or the end, the heaven or the hell of things.

Mr Ex took me to the interview, as he is on holidays and a genuinely decent bloke. The office is located a fair way away, but for 3 days a week I can manage the bus trips. Having a lift there and back for the interview was terrific, and we spent a bit of time together afterwards. In a few days it will be one year since I decided I had to put the dying marriage out of its misery, in order to salvage some happiness for Mr Ex (and maybe, myself). I can see he is more himself again, and that rips at me more than anything. I always believed I was a person who added to situations, to people, rather than took away. But although Mr Ex will say I was everything to him, and brought so much to his life, I would be an idiot to not recognise the path I took him on was nothing he would have chosen or imagined for himself. Still, I made the hard choice for both of us when he was too stuck and too afraid to make it, and every piece of serenity he's gained since then reassures me that it was the right thing. For a while, I wondered if he would fight to get me back, or try to convince me we should try again. But a year later, it hurts me to look him full in the face and realise he is scared that I will ask for another chance.

I blamed so many issues for my marriage problems, and told myself I was leaving to pursue a lot of different things for myself. I have achieved none of them, and now I realise that I was telling myself stories of an exciting and passionate life full of truth in order to disguise the facts... I knew a breakdown was coming, and I could not survive it for both of us. I had to know that Mr Ex was relinquished of responsibility this time, so that I could avoid the crippling guilt and the temptation to fake my way out of it. He was, and is, my best friend, even if we were never ideal marriage partners, the friendship is still there. And this year I have been overwhelmingly relieved that his involvement with this breakdown was limited, and that he could get on with his life without the mental wife hiding in the closet.

Being alone is also the only way I will be able to fight my way back from this illness, knowing myself and my behaviour as well as I do. There are so many layers to my Crazy, like an onion I peel back one only to find another and another. There are scary times ahead, as I start to realise some of the truth at the centre of the layers. But this time I can't just put the layers back together hoping no-one will notice the weeping cracks. This is one time when it HAS to be all or nothing.

Please Remember Me, Fondly

Happy birthday I. Oliver.

I miss you, always.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lyrics to this song, one of my favourites and oh so beautiful

Please, remember me
Happily
By the rosebush laughing
With bruises on my chin
The time when
We counted every black car passing
Your house beneath the hill
And up until
Someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range,
A piggy bank
A vision too removed to mention
But Please, remember me
Fondly
I heard from someone you're still pretty
And then they went on to say
That the pearly gates had some eloquent graffiti
Like 'We'll meet again' and 'Fuck the man'
And 'Tell my mother not to worry'
And angels with their gray handshakes
Were always done in such a hurry
And Please, remember me
At Halloween
Making fools of all the neighbors
Our faces painted white
By midnight we'd forgotten one another
And when the morning came I was ashamed
Only now it seems so silly
That season left the world
And then returned
And now you're lit up by the city
So Please, remember me
Mistakenly
In the window of the tallest tower call
Then pass us by
But much too high

To see the empty road at happy hour
Leave and resonate
Just like the gates
Around the holy kingdom
With words like 'Lost and Found' and 'Don't Look Down'
And 'Someone Save Temptation'
And Please, remember me
As in the dream
We had as rug-burned babies
Among the fallen trees
And fast asleep
Aside the lions and the ladies
That called you what you like
And even might
Give a gift for your behavior
A fleeting chance to see
A trapeze
Swing as high as any savior
But Please, remember me
My misery
And how it lost me all I wanted
Those dogs that love the rain
And chasing trains
The colored birds above there running
In circles round the well
And where it spells
On the wall behind St. Peter's
So bright with cinder gray
And spray paint'Who the hell can see forever?'
And Please, remember me
Seldomly
In the car behind the carnival
My hand between your knees
You turn from me
And said 'The trapeze act was wonderful
But never meant to last'
The clown that passed
Saw me just come up with anger
When it filled with circus dogs
The parking lot
Had an element of danger
So Please, remember me
Finally
And all my uphill clawing
My dear
But if I make the pearly gates
Do my best to make a drawing
Of God and Lucifer
A boy and girl
An angel kissing on a sinner
A monkey and a man
A marching band
All around the frightened trapeze swingers

The Way It Feels For A Girl

In the last month I've dreamt about Lewis four times. I haven't spoken to him in 6 months, it's more than 5 since I last clapped eyes on him. Yet he comes to me at night and reminds me of why he was the one who changed it all, and who changes it still. How is it that someone can make me laugh until I cry in a dream, yet the next morning I can't remember what he said, or how he looked, I just get that overwhelming reminder of how good I felt being with him. I read somewhere that dreams reach forward from the past to make a point about the future or the present. What are you trying to tell me, Lewis...

I have such a long and detailed list of my hyper-attachments, starting at age 9 when I stole perfume and jewellery from my so-called best friend in order to better emulate/become her and have her tricked-up life for myself. Lewis came into my life last year, 12 months ago almost exactly, when I was already feeling uneasy in my shrinking skin. It took a few weeks, which is a long time for me -- often my BPD hyper-attachment crush strikes me one day and is set in stone the next. (The one after Lewis was literally picked from the crowd, with a friend, CS, directing me as to my best bet for my next Flirt Object.) Anyway, Lewis moved desks at work to sit opposite me and the rest is platonic crush history. Hundreds of emails, shared DVDs and CDs, sotto voce confabs, laughing, laughing, laughing and lo and behold, suddenly I'm sleeping alone and not wearing my wedding ring. I in no way blame or credit Lewis for me finishing things with Mr Ex. His smart, sarcastic connection with me just rocked an already sinking ship. Next thing, Titanic city.

In the way of these things, invariably my BPD style of psychotic bonding freaked him out. I moved departments. We drifted apart. I chose my next victim, and therein lies a whole new ball game. Let's just say, I don't dream about HIM. But Lewis...ah, Lewis. He'll always be special. He told me the truth , which is always scary for the deluded among us! My adoption of his culture introduced me to Saxondale and Chewin' The Fat. He handled me, and the strange love/hate roundabout we were on, with sensitivity and aplomb. Mostly. I don't know what the dreams mean, or if they mean anything. I'm fond of telling people who confide their dreams to me that dreams are junk mail from our subconscious...but that's more to make them shut up than because I believe it to be true! I always have a soft spot for previous MFO (Main Flirt Object)s, except for the ones I've attempted to poison or who took out restraining orders - JOKE!

If I had to look back over the last year and pick out fleeting moments of happiness, they would all feature Lewis and my friend Michelle, who for a short while formed a triumvurate of anarchy with us in our staid and oppressive workplace. Maybe that's why he still features in my dreams, because I've always been lucky enough to create a BETTER world in my dream state, rather than deal with nightmares where I'm naked, redneck or being chased by dogs. Trying to recreate recent joy, I guess I naturally turn to Lewis. It used to always be I. Oliver in my dreams, my long-lost soulmate and star-crossed lover, but he is a long and sad story for another day.

By the way, here's a secret for ya. Sometimes, in the dark part of my heart, I wonder if I really want to get well, if it means losing that all-consuming rush of hyper-attachment. I miss it, I crave it more than anything else "forbidden". I struggle with it every day. I dread going back to work if only because it throws up that possibility. Here, safe at home, there's no-one to hurt me. But there's no-one to adore, either. A dilemma, no?