heaven in my hurricane

This is a photograph of my brain. No cabbages, no obvious lesions, but as I have just the scans and no report, we'll have to wait and see. I have an appointment with Dr A on Monday, and the radiology clinic have faxed the report to him. During the MRI there were no audible screams of horror, or ironic chuckling, but due to my muffler-headphones and the extreme noise of the blasted machine I would probably not have heard them anyway. Nobody told me that the MRI machine would sound like putting your head in a washer/dryer. If I hadn't had a headache for the previous 3 months I would definitely have come out with one lol. It was also the most claustrophobic, anxiety-inducing experience I've had in some time... I think it's similar to my opinion of childbirth -- no-one tells you quite how horrifying it is because then no-one would ever go through it!

One of the reasons I found it so difficult was the choice of location. Seven years ago Mr Ex and I endured 6 months of stressful, painful, embarrassing, intrusive and ultimately unsuccessful fertility treatment in that very same hospital. Before yesterday's scan I had coffee in the same coffee shop where Mr Ex and I sometimes sat after various tests, phrases like "hostile mucus" and "deceased sperm" running through our heads. After my scan I used the same bathroom I sat and cried in after one or another sad meeting in which our treatment nurse Janet, or an offsider, shared the inevitable bad news of another failure. It brought back so many memories I thought I'd forgotten, or driven away with my determination to be sexily un-child-ed. But the soul doesn't forget, and the cellular memory pushed me hard in the back towards the edge yesterday...

Glad it's over. I'm not surprised my brain showed a lack of obviously-fatal tumour-shaped objects. I should be so lucky. I told my friend Michelle that I was possibly one of the few patients they had in the clinic who would have been disappointed to be NOT dying. Having a terminal illness would just put an end to all this irritating and exhausting business of living and trying and working on being well. I know, I know, I know. It's not funny. We've all lost people we love, good and special people, to tumours, cancers, lesions...But I'd be lying if I denied that a sick and twisted part of me has always hoped that there would be a denouement to my life that would render me worthwhile and purposeful.

Sadly, unless the report tells me something I couldn't find by comparing my MRI scans to Google Images of "brain lesions", it seems I must continue to find purpose in living rather than dignity in dying.

I spent some time with my oldest friend Samantha today, and her baby daughter Sierra (whom I call my niece). Here she is in all her cuddlesome glory:

Even jaded old me had to admit that life seemed to have more oomph to it when she was nearby, even though I'm sadly not the slightest bit clucky or maternal. I really have made peace with being child-free (I refuse to say child-less as if I am less of a person, less of a woman because my body won't work in certain ways). I'm thrilled and blessed to consider Sam's three kids as my nephews and niece, and perhaps one day my perennial bachelor brother will settle down and make me a genuine blood aunty! Sometimes I wonder if being a mother would have made a difference, would have somehow filled part of the gaping hole in my heart. Being back in that hospital this week certainly made me wonder at the paths we take in life, and those that we're forced down through circumstance. In the end, though, I guess where we end up is where we're supposed to be. How would Jon Kabat-Zinn describe it - "Wherever you go, there you are?" Yep, ain't that the kicker.

(NB: Today's title from P!nk "The One That Got Away")

you're an angry blade and you're brave

A small update post-conference. It's been, it's done, seemed moderately successful apart from the usual technical glitches and no-shows. Sir J has moved on to his next "gig", and I am enjoying a well-earned day off.

Tomorrow I have to go and have the MRI I've been avoiding most of the year. Dr A has often said it would be useful to see what effects, if any, my lupus has had on brain function (and, ergo, depression, headaches, mania, moods, etc). I guess it will be interesting to know if any lesions are present, not that there's much they can do about them. Maybe it will turn out that I have a cabbage in my head instead of a brain haha.

Increasing my dose of fluoxetine has not helped my OCD or binge eating at all, and Dr A is suggesting a mega-low-dose anti-psychotic be added to the mix. I would then reduce to my previous low dose of fluoxetine, as the Abilify (or whatever) will be activating enough. The meds merry-go-round is so annoying, and confusing. But it would be good to not be a slave to the trich and binge rituals... Any feedback or advice from y'all would be welcome, as I know Abilify is something lots of folks have tried. Apparently the risk of weight gain is less than with other a-p drugs?

So much going on, no wonder I find it hard to sleep through the night. I am determined to not start medicating for sleep, though, as I know it's a hard road to come back from. This may sound like a negative post, but I'm feeling well. Relieved the work situation will now wind down slowly until December, when the Foundation closes for a month.

(Angry Blade - Iron & Wine)

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

when one's heart is in the way

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

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

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

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

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

in a bullet proof vest with the windows all closed

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

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

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

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

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

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

but I can see that star when she twinkles

Firstly - thanks to everyone who responded to my last post. Your supportive comments really help, and it means a lot to know that other people know where I am coming from. Hugs to all!

I know it's been another long break between blog posts. This time it's due more to the business of life than the avoidance of such. Work has been hectic, and since I've tried to take things less personally I'm finding it easier to deal with. Basically, I don't have much in common with the folks who share my office, which is a good thing in many ways. I'm happy for them that they don't "get" me, it means they are well adjusted and easy going types who tend to talk things out rather than freak out and/or vent. Now I've realised that fact I try to limit my venting to Fee, my close friend at work, and just fake it out with the rest of them. It's working fairly well. I need to keep my job, for a number of reasons, and most of the time I enjoy being there.

Apart from being busy at work, and sometimes bringing work home with me to do in the evenings, I've been getting out and about. Somewhat! I haven't turned the corner, exactly, but I'm approaching the corner with less trepidation. I've caught up with friends on three occasions, including seeing my new niece S for the first time! I call her my niece, and her brothers my nephews, although we're not blood related. Their mother Samantha is my oldest friend, we met in high school and even when our lives took very different paths (she became a mother at 17), we've remained close. Her eldest son is now 21, and an amazing, well-adjusted, smart and hard-working man. The middle child is 12, and vastly different to his brother but equally awesome. Now my friend has a daughter, and the baby is truly gorgeous! I know I'm biased, but really, she's an angel. Spending time with the family last weekend was really nice, and I'm thrilled that I managed to get out and do it. Samantha is completely different to me in personality, and very strong, but she understands my mental struggles and is very forgiving when I can't manage to see them. For instance, I missed my nephew's 21st birthday party a few months ago because I just couldn't face such a large gathering. Having that kind of friend, who makes allowances and is happy to see me whenever I can manage it, is truly something to be grateful for.

I also had a great day with my friend Michelle, who I hadn't seen for a few weeks now we're not bowling together. I miss bowling, but I miss Michelle more! Was nice to catch up with her and feel like I was rejoining the world. I think breaking the avoidance habit will take time, the first instinct for me is always to think "now, just get through the day and then you can retreat to your bed". But I am making plans for the future, and trying every week to get out there more. One of my homework tasks from Dr A is to set some goals, which I will share with y'all once I get around to it! Something I am looking forward to is moving out on my own next year. I really need my independence back, and after four years of helping to care for my grandmother (the ungrateful narcissist lol) I think I need it to be my turn. My parents are all for it, very understanding actually, which helps me to look upon it positively. I'm scared, in so many ways, of being on my own and surviving. But it needs to be done.

It's a small life, but it's mine. It has flaws and challenges, but I am facing up to them and changing things. There are a lot of things that I'm too overwhelmed to deal with right now (driving, relationships, anger, health & fitness...) but I'm taking small steps in the right direction. When I saw Dr A this week I told him I thought a lot about the question he asked "Do you WANT to change?" I've decided that wanting to want to change is the same as wanting to change, it's simply less emphatic! A position that's perhaps not as wholeheartedly enthusiastic about the process, but still open to the possibility.

(Title of post is from Tori Amos' Twinkle - gorgeous song)

born to be alive

The best thing that can be said about the last couple of weeks is that I am still fighting the good fight. Sometimes it's hard, but I know I don't need to tell y'all that!

Doc A gave me a major league hard time on Thursday about my avoidance of all things life-related. Apart from work, I don't leave the house. While at home, apart from eating dinner and showering, I spend my time in bed watching dvds and reading. He tells me I need to "re-engage with the world", and warned me I am displaying signs of Avoidant Personality Disorder. So that would make three "disorders" in my confused personality... Apparently there is a two-for-one combo deal known as "avoidant-borderline mixed personality" (AvPD/BPD). No wonder I have a permanent headache!

In the end, although I admit I am going through a resistant phase with my therapy, and throw up all manner of reasons and excuses to NOT follow Dr A's advice, I know he is right. I know that the less I participate in the world, the less likely I am to want to, or feel able to. I know that I am at a dangerous crossroads, where I'm fighting to hang onto enough sanity to maintain my job (which is a great, easily managed job). I tell Dr A that I am too tired, too lethargic, too depressed to go out and meet people, or do social things, or join a class. His argument is that I create or manifest or perhaps exacerbate these physical/mental conditions in order to avoid.

So I am trying to put myself out there more, and reach out to the "real world". Ten or twelve years ago I was active, motivated and sociable and I know I can get back there, or to somewhere close by. I have been thinking about studying a language or a craft, and perhaps doing a gym class once a week. I went to a public meditation last night, with my friend Fee from work. Dr a said to me a number of times during our session on Thursday - "Do you WANT to change?" I really had to think about it, and came up with the answer "No, but I want to WANT to change". And that has to be start, right?

I have been away from this blog-world for a couple of weeks, and have missed catching up with everyone's news. So I'll try and get around over the weekend and see what y'all have been up to while I've been bed-ridden and avoiding!