Sometimes it's a hard life. I'm really struggling today, and had to take not one but two Valium in order to calm myself down enough to stay at work. All I could think about was running away. Pills, alcohol, car accidents, suicide, hospitals. Now, in the deadened calm of the diazepam, I just feel hollow and numb. Relief. I've been listening to some comedy TV shows on my iPhone to try and penetrate the gloom. Thankfully, I have my monthly appointment with Doc A this afternoon so am leaving work an hour early. I'm going to ask for more Valium (he reluctantly gave me a 20 tablet script last month which I haven't used yet but I'm worried I am going to need more). I'm wondering if he'll offer me more Cymbalta, as I'm on 90mg daily and there's evidence a higher dose might work better. I think I need a referral to a psychologist to work more intensely on CBT.
The suicidal ideation and self-harm is a real concern for me. It's been getting worse over the last few weeks. The other day I gathered all the pills in the house (and there are a lot, as Neil's mum gives us packets of her prescription-only high strength pain medication - don't ask me why!) and seriously considered taking them. I wanted to sleep forever, or end up away from everything in hospital. I'm annoyed with myself for the urge to run away. In the end, I could not do that to Neil. His dad gassed himself in the family car when Neil was in his 20s and ten years later his brother eventually hung himself after a few attempted overdoses. When he finally succeeded, it was Neil who went around to the house and found his brother's body. I just can't do that to him again. He deserves better than me. I wish I was healthy for him as well as for me.
I wonder what he must really think of me, now that we live together and he sees my daily struggle. Struggle to get out of bed, wash, dress, go to work, cook, clean, converse... Do I remind him of his dead brother, weak father, depressed mother... Does he compare me to his previous crackpot girlfriends... I don't doubt he loves me, but I worry sometimes how easy it is for pity to creep in.
Flash 'n the Pan had a hit in 1978 with a song by the same title as this post.
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
do you know the one where we all live happily
Hi everyone! I'm so sorry I've been away from the blogosphere, and crikey I have missed you all )-: Contrary to how I sometimes feel these days, I'm surviving and occasionally thriving. Went back to work fulltime two weeks ago and jeez it's been tough. I miss my four day weekends. I miss having a lazy ass job where I was able to write and check blogs every day. But, I am looking forward to my first pay cheque next week and to having enough money to start repaying my parents for all their financial support since my last breakdown in 2009.
I have a job working for a government department, it's fairly basic data entry and it's quiet and that suits me just now. I think going back to work fulltime is hard enough without having to cope with stress or phones ringing and people needing me to help them, etc. Sometimes I feel bored, but that's natural right? Sometimes (often) I feel tired, but given my new lifestyle that's expected, right?
Mostly, I have maintained a positive mood which is probably thanks to the Cymbalta and Solian more than anything else. Life outside work is going well, though there are major changes in my home life to contend with along with the changes at work. Michelle, my housemate, met a nice man six months ago and they have decided to move in together. Awesome for them, but it meant I had the choice of trying to find a new room-mate, trying to live on my own (financially difficult) or moving in with Neil. After discussion Neil and I decided I should move in with him, which I'm both excited and terrified about! He lives with his obtuse and recalcitrant 19 year old son and his small dog, and as you know I am devoted to my moody cat. His house is a lot further out of the city (where I work) and further from public transport. But apart from these minor issues, I think it's going to be great for our relationship and will save me money. Neil owns his home and doesn't want me to pay rent - so I can put that money aside for saving or repaying my parents. I'll obviously contribute to all the bills, but even so I will be a lot better off financially. I love and adore him, too!! So that's a positive environment to be in. It's just a change, that's all, and one that may bring out the worst in me, my mental illness, our relationship, etc. Moving day is April 2nd so wish us luck!
Doc A has been away in Italy at a conference, and I cancelled my last appointment, so it's been about six weeks since I saw him. With all these changes, I could have done with the support. He's stopped doing after hours consultations, so I don't know how I will juggle fulltime work with therapy. But I know I need to try and work it out.
I need to get back to work so I have to be brief. Michelle took her computer when she moved out, so I have no option for reading blogs except lunch breaks at work. I miss everyone so much! I hope you're all hanging in there, and finding some happiness. I will try and check in more often and update you guys.
Lots of love, Lil xx
Post title is from Lisa Mitchell "Coin Laundry".
I have a job working for a government department, it's fairly basic data entry and it's quiet and that suits me just now. I think going back to work fulltime is hard enough without having to cope with stress or phones ringing and people needing me to help them, etc. Sometimes I feel bored, but that's natural right? Sometimes (often) I feel tired, but given my new lifestyle that's expected, right?
Mostly, I have maintained a positive mood which is probably thanks to the Cymbalta and Solian more than anything else. Life outside work is going well, though there are major changes in my home life to contend with along with the changes at work. Michelle, my housemate, met a nice man six months ago and they have decided to move in together. Awesome for them, but it meant I had the choice of trying to find a new room-mate, trying to live on my own (financially difficult) or moving in with Neil. After discussion Neil and I decided I should move in with him, which I'm both excited and terrified about! He lives with his obtuse and recalcitrant 19 year old son and his small dog, and as you know I am devoted to my moody cat. His house is a lot further out of the city (where I work) and further from public transport. But apart from these minor issues, I think it's going to be great for our relationship and will save me money. Neil owns his home and doesn't want me to pay rent - so I can put that money aside for saving or repaying my parents. I'll obviously contribute to all the bills, but even so I will be a lot better off financially. I love and adore him, too!! So that's a positive environment to be in. It's just a change, that's all, and one that may bring out the worst in me, my mental illness, our relationship, etc. Moving day is April 2nd so wish us luck!
Doc A has been away in Italy at a conference, and I cancelled my last appointment, so it's been about six weeks since I saw him. With all these changes, I could have done with the support. He's stopped doing after hours consultations, so I don't know how I will juggle fulltime work with therapy. But I know I need to try and work it out.
I need to get back to work so I have to be brief. Michelle took her computer when she moved out, so I have no option for reading blogs except lunch breaks at work. I miss everyone so much! I hope you're all hanging in there, and finding some happiness. I will try and check in more often and update you guys.
Lots of love, Lil xx
Post title is from Lisa Mitchell "Coin Laundry".
Friday, July 23, 2010
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.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
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...
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...
Monday, May 3, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, April 16, 2010
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"
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"
Monday, March 15, 2010
Happy 200
I can't believe this blog has been going for more than a year, which means my "official" BPD diagnosis is also more than a year old. It's my 200th post today - and I want to say a massive thank you to all my readers and commenters. Having you guys around has made the last year a LOT more enjoyable, and I hope some of my ramblings have helped other people to feel more sane LOL, or less alone.
I feel as though I should do some kind of a retrospective to mark the 200th post. It's certainly amazing to me how much has changed, in my physical life as well as my mental/emotional life. Working hard with Doc A, and practising my CBT and DBT skills, and finding a good medication balance has meant that I can function fairly well most of the time. I've returned to work, moved out of my parents' house, and started dating. A year ago, none of these things seemed possible. I owe a lot to Doc A, and to my family and friends who have been supportive, but I am recognising how much of the work I did myself. I was determined to survive, and to even thrive, and even when I was most despairing, I hung on to the hope. Even in the darkest times, I focused on the tiny glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel, and I think that's what got me through. It gave me the strength to keep working at therapy and to resist the evil BPD voices in my head when they told me to binge eat, shop, pull out my hair, scratch my skin, obsess, scream...
There are times when I wonder if I can keep up the effort, but I get through them (occasionally with the help of a Valium LOL). Events of the past year have tested me, often, but I do feel like I have made progress and am functioning pretty well. As mentioned in an earlier post, Doc A says that if I came in now to see him for an initial consult he probably wouldn't place me in the same Borderline Personality Disorder category, that he would assume I was at worst a mild case. I am attached to my diagnosis, so I don't know how I feel about having it taken away!! It seems weird to think of myself as just Lil instead of Borderline Lil, even though I know that it makes perfect sense - I am not JUST my diagnoses, I am a complete and whole person underneath the crazy haha.
As an update to previous posts, I am still spending time with Lloyd, though part of me suspects he doesn't deserve me LOL. We are technically "friends", and see a lot of each other, and in many ways I'm happier without the relationship label. I am still in two minds about him, and our relationship, but being with him (mostly) makes me happy. It's weird that I'm almost 40 years old and am finally falling for an Unsuitable Boy. I always made sensible, rational choices when I actually committed myself to relationships in the past, even though some of my fantasy/obsession/crushes were kind of out there. But something about Lloyd makes me retract all my feminist beliefs and my rational decisions. My friends and family think I deserve better, intellectually I know that he needs to step up and be a man, but there is a big part of me that just loves him, you know? As much as I don't want to, and I'm fighting it, I just want him to love me.
Ugh. I can't even stand the sound of myself!! It's stupid. I'm hopeful that his hold on me will dissipate, somehow, sometime, and I'll be able to move on. Til then, I just focus on the good stuff.
I feel as though I should do some kind of a retrospective to mark the 200th post. It's certainly amazing to me how much has changed, in my physical life as well as my mental/emotional life. Working hard with Doc A, and practising my CBT and DBT skills, and finding a good medication balance has meant that I can function fairly well most of the time. I've returned to work, moved out of my parents' house, and started dating. A year ago, none of these things seemed possible. I owe a lot to Doc A, and to my family and friends who have been supportive, but I am recognising how much of the work I did myself. I was determined to survive, and to even thrive, and even when I was most despairing, I hung on to the hope. Even in the darkest times, I focused on the tiny glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel, and I think that's what got me through. It gave me the strength to keep working at therapy and to resist the evil BPD voices in my head when they told me to binge eat, shop, pull out my hair, scratch my skin, obsess, scream...
There are times when I wonder if I can keep up the effort, but I get through them (occasionally with the help of a Valium LOL). Events of the past year have tested me, often, but I do feel like I have made progress and am functioning pretty well. As mentioned in an earlier post, Doc A says that if I came in now to see him for an initial consult he probably wouldn't place me in the same Borderline Personality Disorder category, that he would assume I was at worst a mild case. I am attached to my diagnosis, so I don't know how I feel about having it taken away!! It seems weird to think of myself as just Lil instead of Borderline Lil, even though I know that it makes perfect sense - I am not JUST my diagnoses, I am a complete and whole person underneath the crazy haha.
As an update to previous posts, I am still spending time with Lloyd, though part of me suspects he doesn't deserve me LOL. We are technically "friends", and see a lot of each other, and in many ways I'm happier without the relationship label. I am still in two minds about him, and our relationship, but being with him (mostly) makes me happy. It's weird that I'm almost 40 years old and am finally falling for an Unsuitable Boy. I always made sensible, rational choices when I actually committed myself to relationships in the past, even though some of my fantasy/obsession/crushes were kind of out there. But something about Lloyd makes me retract all my feminist beliefs and my rational decisions. My friends and family think I deserve better, intellectually I know that he needs to step up and be a man, but there is a big part of me that just loves him, you know? As much as I don't want to, and I'm fighting it, I just want him to love me.
Ugh. I can't even stand the sound of myself!! It's stupid. I'm hopeful that his hold on me will dissipate, somehow, sometime, and I'll be able to move on. Til then, I just focus on the good stuff.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
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...
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...
Sunday, March 7, 2010
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...
Saturday, February 27, 2010
love and other bruises
One of the issues I'm fighting on a daily basis, having started to expose my body to another human being again, is my self-loathing, which can verge on the pathological. As lots of my readers know, I had weight loss surgery 2 and a half years ago and since then have lost 100 pounds. I still have at least 50 pounds to lose before I'm even close to "ideal weight" for my height, and sadly most of those extra pounds have formed a tight knit association with my thighs. I lost more from my upper half, especially chest region more's the pity, so now I have a disturbingly pear-shaped body. But, as I know, as I tell myself over and over and over again, it's better to be lighter and healthier and I wouldn't want to be 370 pounds again. At least it's gone, even though it took my impressive chest with it.
One of the things I find interesting and appealing about the new bloke, Lloyd, is that he had weight loss surgery last April. He's lost even more weight than I have, and is doing amazingly well and is terribly "gung ho" about weight loss. He inspires me to want to lose more, and is encouraging, but part of me wonders when it will be okay for me to just BE. To finally learn to love myself and my body, without planning umpteen ways in which to change and improve it. Where does the balance lie between wanting to be fitter and healthier and thinner and wanting to unconditionally love myself? Where does that balance lay for Lloyd?? I understand that I'm not happy with myself, or my body, so it makes sense that he would be encouraging me to lose weight if it's something I want. But what if I can't, won't, don't lose more weight? What if it's more important to put my energy into accepting myself for the flawed and fat person I genuinely am? When does it become okay to just relax and let the flab fall where it may?
I've struggled with this question so much, for so many years, but the issue is more acute now I share my physical being with another person. I suppose I open myself up to opinion, comment and yes, criticism, by bearing my body and soul to him. Don't get me wrong, he doesn't judge me or criticise my weight, and if anyone knows what it's like to be obese it's Lloyd. Which kind of makes it harder, you know... if he understands how much a person can loathe themselves, why can't he just worship me for who I am right now? To answer my own question, he does worship me, but he is unfailingly honest and upfront about everything - weight included. Would I prefer that he lie to me about my weight the way Mr Ex did, even as I slowly killed myself with food? No. No, no no.
The last week has been especially hard, hormonally challenged as I am, and I cried in front of him for the first time. He was brilliant, empathetic without being patronising, but not even being cared for in that way could ease the intense loathing I felt at the moment for my scarred and ugly body. I wish there was a pill I could take for self-hatred, a potion that could render me carefree and confident. I worry sometimes that even if/when I lose the next 50 pounds I will still feel like the fat failure. That's the problem with mirrors in the mind, I suppose.
One of the things I find interesting and appealing about the new bloke, Lloyd, is that he had weight loss surgery last April. He's lost even more weight than I have, and is doing amazingly well and is terribly "gung ho" about weight loss. He inspires me to want to lose more, and is encouraging, but part of me wonders when it will be okay for me to just BE. To finally learn to love myself and my body, without planning umpteen ways in which to change and improve it. Where does the balance lie between wanting to be fitter and healthier and thinner and wanting to unconditionally love myself? Where does that balance lay for Lloyd?? I understand that I'm not happy with myself, or my body, so it makes sense that he would be encouraging me to lose weight if it's something I want. But what if I can't, won't, don't lose more weight? What if it's more important to put my energy into accepting myself for the flawed and fat person I genuinely am? When does it become okay to just relax and let the flab fall where it may?
I've struggled with this question so much, for so many years, but the issue is more acute now I share my physical being with another person. I suppose I open myself up to opinion, comment and yes, criticism, by bearing my body and soul to him. Don't get me wrong, he doesn't judge me or criticise my weight, and if anyone knows what it's like to be obese it's Lloyd. Which kind of makes it harder, you know... if he understands how much a person can loathe themselves, why can't he just worship me for who I am right now? To answer my own question, he does worship me, but he is unfailingly honest and upfront about everything - weight included. Would I prefer that he lie to me about my weight the way Mr Ex did, even as I slowly killed myself with food? No. No, no no.
The last week has been especially hard, hormonally challenged as I am, and I cried in front of him for the first time. He was brilliant, empathetic without being patronising, but not even being cared for in that way could ease the intense loathing I felt at the moment for my scarred and ugly body. I wish there was a pill I could take for self-hatred, a potion that could render me carefree and confident. I worry sometimes that even if/when I lose the next 50 pounds I will still feel like the fat failure. That's the problem with mirrors in the mind, I suppose.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, February 15, 2010
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")
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")
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, January 29, 2010
dude looks like a lady
I have another internet-introduction date this evening, and it's brought with it the requisite anxiety and self-questioning. What should I wear? Hair up or down? Flat shoes or heels (this was easily answered as Bachelor Number 2 is shorter than me). The most pressing question is one most of you can relate to, probably, which is whether to tell, and when and how to tell, Bachelor # 2 about the mentalness. It's something I haven't discussed yet with Doc A, but will, as it's been weighing heavily on my mind. Bachelor # 1, the new friend mentioned in my last couple of posts, doesn't know either apart from a vague reference I made to "stress-related difficulties" at my last job. It's something I want to be able to share, but how on earth do I tell someone new, someone who is just starting to get to know my personality, that I'm diagnosed with a Personality Disorder?? I feel like I'd have a better shot if they really knew me first, rather than freaking them out from the first moment. Obviously this isn't a question that needs answering on Date One, but I worry that a new man will feel lied to and betrayed if this isn't brought up at an early stage.
Would welcome any feedback and advice, as always!
In other news, work plods along comfortably and I'm still having a great time living with Michelle. The weather's been diabolical, boiling hot, and we're suffering without airconditioning at work now as well as at home. Roll on Autumn. I feel like I'm in a "no news is good news" phase, so my apologies for not updating this blog regularly. Apart from the new and exciting/terrifying world of dating, I am in a fairly equilibrious state. That's probably not even a word, but y'all know what I mean. This is a good thing, right, being stable and boring and functioning with all cylinders?? Not to say there aren't days when it's a struggle to get out of bed and get to work, or days when I want to run away screaming, but mostly I think I'm doing okay. There's always that nasty niggling nagging feeling at the back of my mind that says "this can't last", but I try not to listen. Oh how I try...
Would welcome any feedback and advice, as always!
In other news, work plods along comfortably and I'm still having a great time living with Michelle. The weather's been diabolical, boiling hot, and we're suffering without airconditioning at work now as well as at home. Roll on Autumn. I feel like I'm in a "no news is good news" phase, so my apologies for not updating this blog regularly. Apart from the new and exciting/terrifying world of dating, I am in a fairly equilibrious state. That's probably not even a word, but y'all know what I mean. This is a good thing, right, being stable and boring and functioning with all cylinders?? Not to say there aren't days when it's a struggle to get out of bed and get to work, or days when I want to run away screaming, but mostly I think I'm doing okay. There's always that nasty niggling nagging feeling at the back of my mind that says "this can't last", but I try not to listen. Oh how I try...
Sunday, September 27, 2009
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)
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)
Saturday, September 12, 2009
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 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
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Something Old, Something New
I was unemployed, briefly. Emailed my former employer on the weekend to tell them that I wouldn't be coming back, which was probably neither a surprise nor a disappointment to them. It was hard to do, if only because it signalled that no matter where I end up from here, it won't be the place I was before the latest breakdown. I'm sad, but wouldn't choose to go back there, emotionally or mentally, even if it seemed at the time that things were going swimmingly. They clearly weren't. I received extremely nice and supportive emails back, wishing me all the best, and then three hours later was asked to start a new job, with a new company, on April 14th. My disability allowance (which FINALLY came in last week) finishes on April 13th, so it's perfect timing.
The new position is quite different for me - sales administration, which I think will require me to use every tiny maths skill I have. Hopefully, I won't get bored and get into emotional and social mischief...
I had my psych appointment with Dr A this morning, and apart from the new job it was all about I. Oliver. I'm not sure how or why he came into the conversation... I think narratively I must have been revisiting 1992, which is where it all started. It always astonishes me how much I cry telling the story, or stories, even twelve years after the end of things. I guess that investing yourself as passionately in someone, as I did with I.Oliver for 5 years, and then being left with nothing to show for it, is enough to make me cry. Even though I think he made the right decision, chose the right life for himself, the right woman, part of me (a crazy, adolescent deluded part) will always believe he and I will end up together in the end. I suppose I will continue that stupid fantasy until my last breath, but at least these days I don't waste time or energy on pursuing the fantasy.
I know it's sick and twisted but I love the fact that the I.Oliver finale causes people (even my hardened and impartial shrink) to gasp and groan. Even though I can't do it without crying, I kind of enjoy describing my arrival in South Carolina, the long imagined romantic reunion, the voice of the other woman on the answering machine, running away to a edge-of-town motel, stuck in this backward town because of the Independence Day holiday, him saying "but I love you", "I knew if I told you about her you wouldn't come and I wanted to see you..." blah blah blah. Most of what I remember of those 5 days in 1997 is bad movies on HBO, surviving on food from the motel vending machines and mostly just cycling between numb and hysterical. I sat in the parking lot of the motel watching the July 4th fireworks, next to a pickup truck full of Georgians who came daily across the border (apparently) to swim in the motel pool. The reality was the polar opposite from how I'd imagined this Independence Day, during the 60 hours a week I'd been working for the previous year, during the last semester of University when I broke my back to graduate top of my class to impress the great I. Oliver (future Doctor don'tcha know). The previous two years had been all about getting back to the States, getting back to him and living this so-called perfect life. Once that was gone, and gone so immediately and permanently, I had nothing left. And nothing to look forward to except a breakdown, massive weight gain and finally returning to Australia to try and rebuild my life.
Sometimes I think that's a work still in progress. Mr Ex came along 18 months later, and provided such a different picture to the one I'd painted with I.Oliver. On the rebound, on the defensive, how could I NOT marry him. If I'd searched the world I could not have found someone more different. Of course, running away and hiding my head in the sand could only work for so long, and now here I am in the same place, twelve years later. To borrow a phrase from my best friend S, I think I'm relationship-challenged. Dr A has given me as homework this week the task of writing a list of things I want from a potential partner. I quipped "to be non-existant", which was deemed by Dr A as "avoidant". Tee hee. I really don't see myself with someone, not now, not ever. Any desire I had for partnership has been swallowed by libido-killing medication, mind-fucking crushes and general malaise. I don't think Dr A believes me. I wonder if he'd be mad if I wrote "richer than god", "mute" and "impotent"...
The new position is quite different for me - sales administration, which I think will require me to use every tiny maths skill I have. Hopefully, I won't get bored and get into emotional and social mischief...
I had my psych appointment with Dr A this morning, and apart from the new job it was all about I. Oliver. I'm not sure how or why he came into the conversation... I think narratively I must have been revisiting 1992, which is where it all started. It always astonishes me how much I cry telling the story, or stories, even twelve years after the end of things. I guess that investing yourself as passionately in someone, as I did with I.Oliver for 5 years, and then being left with nothing to show for it, is enough to make me cry. Even though I think he made the right decision, chose the right life for himself, the right woman, part of me (a crazy, adolescent deluded part) will always believe he and I will end up together in the end. I suppose I will continue that stupid fantasy until my last breath, but at least these days I don't waste time or energy on pursuing the fantasy.
I know it's sick and twisted but I love the fact that the I.Oliver finale causes people (even my hardened and impartial shrink) to gasp and groan. Even though I can't do it without crying, I kind of enjoy describing my arrival in South Carolina, the long imagined romantic reunion, the voice of the other woman on the answering machine, running away to a edge-of-town motel, stuck in this backward town because of the Independence Day holiday, him saying "but I love you", "I knew if I told you about her you wouldn't come and I wanted to see you..." blah blah blah. Most of what I remember of those 5 days in 1997 is bad movies on HBO, surviving on food from the motel vending machines and mostly just cycling between numb and hysterical. I sat in the parking lot of the motel watching the July 4th fireworks, next to a pickup truck full of Georgians who came daily across the border (apparently) to swim in the motel pool. The reality was the polar opposite from how I'd imagined this Independence Day, during the 60 hours a week I'd been working for the previous year, during the last semester of University when I broke my back to graduate top of my class to impress the great I. Oliver (future Doctor don'tcha know). The previous two years had been all about getting back to the States, getting back to him and living this so-called perfect life. Once that was gone, and gone so immediately and permanently, I had nothing left. And nothing to look forward to except a breakdown, massive weight gain and finally returning to Australia to try and rebuild my life.
Sometimes I think that's a work still in progress. Mr Ex came along 18 months later, and provided such a different picture to the one I'd painted with I.Oliver. On the rebound, on the defensive, how could I NOT marry him. If I'd searched the world I could not have found someone more different. Of course, running away and hiding my head in the sand could only work for so long, and now here I am in the same place, twelve years later. To borrow a phrase from my best friend S, I think I'm relationship-challenged. Dr A has given me as homework this week the task of writing a list of things I want from a potential partner. I quipped "to be non-existant", which was deemed by Dr A as "avoidant". Tee hee. I really don't see myself with someone, not now, not ever. Any desire I had for partnership has been swallowed by libido-killing medication, mind-fucking crushes and general malaise. I don't think Dr A believes me. I wonder if he'd be mad if I wrote "richer than god", "mute" and "impotent"...
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