Archive for March, 2007
Okay, we all smoke outside. Ex-partner and I do and the other couple in another unit smoke too. So I don’t know who went outside last (it wasn’t me!) but somehow, perhaps someone didn’t extinguish their last cigarette properly? Either that or someone set fire to a chair we have on our porch?
Someone rang our doorbell and normally, ex-partner and I just ignore it. Luckily we didn’t. We’re on the upper floor. I don’t know what the other couple were doing as they would have possibly had a vantage point to see the lovely blaze from their living room.
Anyway, downstairs we went and bloody fucking hell! There sat the chair completely in flames! Or what was left of it! I ran back upstairs to get some water because for some reason, the water outside had been shut off. Luckily, no burn damage was done to the wood porch but oh…if the landlord sees it…good thing I’m moving?
We tried to cover it up and ex-partner is going to try and clean off all the melted detritus tomorrow.
I am laughing so hard. It’s not funny at all but I am so emotionally dysregulated right now. Even ex-partner laughed too but not as hard as me.
So all you other smokers out there…be careful…
So what have I done today? Get up. Go to work. Do no work. Look at some blogs.
I have been emailing ex-partner and she was surprised to hear me tell her that I would actually miss her. I said to her that I am not a robot and not devoid of emotion. Even if sometimes I acted like I was. And that me moving out would probably be very lonely indeed. And that I was already feeling “depressed as fuck” as it is. Hence my post title.
I really do want to kill myself. I made a *promise* to myself years ago that I wouldn’t though. Two overdose attempts were bad enough. But right now, I sort of feel, what’s the point? I mean, really. When I look around and take stock…there really isn’t a hell of a lot in my life. There might be some people who would “miss me” but they would carry on and lead their lives just fine after I was gone, I’m sure. It’s not like I’ve got people lined up or beating a path to my door anyway.
I always try and talk the suicidal out of their states of mind and tell them that they need to hang on. Keep living. Well, looks like I’m full of shit, now aren’t I?
Now since I have a rather obliterated memory from childhood due to trauma this was indeed a bit challenging. So I decided, in order to help myself along a little bit, I’d create a theme. I’d make it a group of “firsts.” I wanted to write about them in chronological order as I a little obsessive-compulsive like that but I really need to save the last one for…well last. Because I find it rather funny. You may or may not. But I’ve always said I am not averse to publicly humiliating myself on my own blog so whatever.
1. First Cigarette: I was eight years old. I had a friend whose mother smoked and one day, she decided to steal one from her Mom’s pack. She asked me if I wanted to try it. Now I was terminally naive, gullible, curious–all of these things. I still am. I believe she had smoked before. She seemed like a pro! I took the lit cigarette and yes, actually inhaled and *cough cough*…but it wasn’t that bad actually. A little strange but I didn’t feel sick or anything. We continued to puff away every now and then until she got caught nicking the cigs and then, that was that. But a couple of years later, I think she started stealing them again so we started smoking again. Not regularly of course! Just every once in a while…
I’ve smoked on and off throughout my life but mostly on. I’m not really a heavy smoker. I’ll probably quit one of these days.
2. First Job: I’ve always had a very strong work ethic. I’ve pretty much worked and had an income for as long as I can remember in some sort of capacity. This one kicked it all off. I was 10 and I had a paper route. It was good because it was an evening delivery. I had terrible sleep arousal problems as a child (and a teenager) so a morning route would have been impossible.
I remember coming home from school and seeing the bundle tied neatly at the end of the curb. I would carry it in and find some scissors to release them and then pack them into my cloth paper carrying sack, swing it over my shoulder and across my body and trek off into my “working world.” I used a punch and cards for the collection of fees and might get the odd tip from a subscriber–usually only around Christmas time. It was a dirty job. I would come home my clothes and hands filthy black from the newspaper ink.
3. First Pet: We always had cats in the house as my mother loves them. We had one dog once. When I was about 15, my sister and her soon-to-be husband (now ex-husband…) had a cat and she had a litter of kittens–unexpectedly. They were trying to find homes for them and asked me if I wanted one. Of course! So I selected my mewling kitten from the brood, a striped little orange male and named him Rufus which means “red headed or haired.” Now apparently I had made a bad choice? Rufus lived up to the stereotype of having a rather fiery temper and being a bit crazy. He would lie innocently enough on my chest for a while and then suddenly turn into “vampire kitten!” Ouch. He was a real terror. Kittens normally have boundless energy but he was unimaginable. One day, he got outside and never came back. Bye Rufus.
4. First Attempt At University: This is actually a first within a first. While I went away to university for the first time (i.e. I have basically “dropped out” or not finished uni. three times now) I was stung by a bee for the first time. Yikes! Actually, it wasn’t an extremely bad a feeling. Kind of like a really bad needle injection.
So this was back in the day prior to all of this fancy technology and you had to run around and line up and sign up for your courses. And if they were full, you had to run around and find another line and hope you got into that one. So it was a warm fall day and I was in a T-shirt and shorts. I sat down to take a break on some steps. Well, I guess a bee had somehow managed to crawl inside my shorts and when I sat down…yep! Pretty much stung me right on my ass! Now you’d think that would be bad enough? Well, after I’d realized what happened and I saw the little bee who’d now lost it’s stinger sort of drunkenly meander out of my shorts to go off and die I sat there for a minute and…I started to feel a little funny. I started to feel kind of dizzy and my breathing became slightly laboured and I thought, oh shit…
I found the Nurse’s Office on campus and I told them what happened and that I wasn’t feeling quite right. The asked me to drop my shorts so they could have a look. They removed the stinger and applied something to me to soothe the affected area and just monitored me. I started to feel a bit better in about 20min. or so. I’ve been a little concerned about bees ever since. I’m not sure if I had a minor allergic reaction or not but I know that with successive stings they can get worse.
5. First Time Having Sexual Intercourse (i.e. Loss of Virginity): Okay, I know what you’re all thinking here. But I had to post about this because it came back to haunt me 10 years later and I really find it funny. And it’s also funny because I’m a dope. Now there are five other people involved so you have to kind of pay attention–and no, I did not lose my viginity with five people!
Alright so there is B. (male), C. (my cousin- female), JI (male), JII (male) and P. (female.)
I was on my way to visit my cousin, C. who lived a fair distance away from me. Now prior to that I had visited her and met B. During that visit, I had also met JI and P. They were all very nice. But during that visit, B. really flipped me out as he had expressed interest in me and kissed me. Now I was a total, introverted, loser, spaz as a teenager (and child.) I didn’t know what to do with that. So for this next visit, I was talking to B. on the phone and he was still expressing interest in me, telling me he missed me and all sorts of things and that he also had a “new girlfriend” and that “he knew I’d really like her…” Okay, remember #1? I said I was terminally naive and gullible? I thought he meant me!
So I arrive and I find out that he is actually dating my cousin C! I am mortified. I feel humiliated and stupid. They realize that something is wrong and I confess. They are supportive and say that actually, they have someone in mind for me–JI. Huh? So I am “set up” with JI. Now JI is nice and cute and all of that but he’s basically a total stranger. And I am just totally strange.
We had plans to go to “the city” to see The Cure that weekend. We were going to stay at JII’s home. Now JII had it really bad for P. But P. could not stand JII. So there we all were, three “nice little couples” partying it up at JII’s place (parents in absentia.) We were all pissed drunk and finally it’s time to go to bed. We are all somehow relegated off to our separate “couple bedrooms.” JI goes running off to B. “Do you have an extra condom?” I’m like…oh, so I guess this is it then?
It wasn’t that bad. I mean, it certainly wasn’t good but it wasn’t completely excrutiating, I suppose. JI rolled over and went to sleep. I stared at the ceiling for a long time. A lot of things were running through my mind. I guess I was glad to have it over with, peer pressure and all of that perhaps(?) but I felt lonely and confused. The bedroom was very cold too. It matched the way I felt inside. Cold.
The next morning I think everyone was hungover like hell. I don’t know what happened with JII and P.–if they had sex or not. All I know is that they weren’t really talking to each other so maybe they did!
JI and I kept in contact for a while but we lived so far away. We probably could have had a relationship were it not for that.
Now fast forward 10 years later. I had moved to “the city,” was dating a girl and was spending Christmas Eve at her parents’ house. They had an old family friend there who was with her daughter. They were talking about the girl’s older brother and his name started with a J… I turned to my, then, girlfriend and said, “What’s their last name again?” She told me. I said to her, “Come with me.”
We left the room and I asked her where they lived. What was the address. She told me and I started laughing. I asked her if she knew the layout of the home. She did and I said, do you know where this certain bedroom is in the home? Do you know whose it is? She said yes, it’s the daughter’s that you are speaking with who is here right now.
I told her the story of how, where, with whom, all the circumstances surrounding me losing my virginity. She laughed her head off. So yes, 10 years later, I inadvertently met the person in whose bed I lost my viginity. Over a very civilized Christmas Eve get together. And no, neither my, then, girlfriend nor I said a word about it! I just kept looking at the girl all night trying so hard not to laugh…
Alright…so who’s up next? Ah, I guess I’ll tag SeaSpray
I’ve never had a problem with these two areas intersecting and creating any “conflict,” for lack of a better term, in my life. Well, hang on. Let me back up a minute. In my own mind, I’ve never had any issues with the two.
Personally, being disordered has wreaked havoc on relationships but this post is more about clinicians, professionals and therapists.
I suppose I have been rather lucky in this regard. I don’t feel that I have been discriminated in any way from any practitioners while I have been open about my sexual identity. Except for one, many years ago, prior to being diagnosed with Bipolar. He could not understand why in a panic, one day a self-proclaimed “lesbian” would need “the morning after pill” or emergency contraception. Yes, the telltale hypersexuality of (hypo)mania strikes again! And I probably wasn’t pregnant but in my out of control mental state, best be sure!
I can’t say that I always have actually been open about my sexual orientation in every mental health setting as it may or may not have been relevant at the time (i.e. when asked during an inpatient stay, perhaps.) But I do understand that for some other members of the GLBT community who have mental health problems it can add an enormous strain on all the other issues that are already impacting them.
Alicia Lucksted has written a summary report that you can read here.
Reading some of it just made me feel so terribly awful. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have not experienced such discrimination. Even outside of a clinical setting and in the “real world,” I have been relatively untouched by being “gay” (or whatever you wish to call me–I sometimes really hate labels but perhaps they must be used at times.)
I have not lost any friends because of it, I have not lost any family members, I have not been discriminated in the workplace. I can even marry in my country if I so choose. I have never been assaulted or even stared at or called names for public displays of affection.
However, we still have a long way to go. Just because I may be one of the more blessed ones of my community doesn’t mean that the fight is over. Far from it.
When I first started Blogging (oh so few months ago..) I discovered these “meme” things that were floating around. They scared the hell out of me and still do. They sort of resemble, to me anyway, “blog spam.” And I certainly hate email spam. Although, there is kind of a nice one going around right now, I see: The Thinking Blogger Award. That one’s kind of flattering. I like blogs that can make me think. When my brain is actually capable of doing so.
However, as said above, memes kind of flip me out as there is this inherent pressure to pass them along. Now I suppose I could opt not to do so. I don’t know that many people in the blogosphere so I guess I could just pass them along to those that I do know and annoy the hell out of them but I do not wish to alienate my friends. Or I could simply hit the “next” button and randomly meme strangers? That might be interesting.
No one has ever “meme’d” me…yet. So perhaps I should simply do it to myself now and get it over with?
One of the more simple ones that I’ve seen has been “Five Things You May Or May Not Know About Me” or something… So here goes. But because I ramble, there maybe more than five packed into the points.
1. I’ve been skydiving. I’ve always wanted to be a bird since childhood so this was the closest I could come to achieving that fantasy. It was fantastic. I kind of like to be up high so I like to climb trees too. Always have. Maybe I’m part monkey and part bird. One of my favourite pictures from years ago was taken from a friend’s backyard party with me high above the boughs of a great big–I don’t even know what kind of tree it was–with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
2. Writing: I am absolutely obsessive about writing in black ink only. However. I will copy edit and proof in red ink. It is so apparent that even my boss knows about it (and accepts it.) I can also write in reverse, or backwards–you might need a mirror to read it. This was born out of years of boredom in the classroom as a teenager. I’m a bit out of practice these days, however but still can do it.
3. I have a pathological fear of butterflies. And yes moths too but butterflies are the killer. I don’t really like insects at all but butterflies are the worst.
4. I have terrible stagefright. I always performed well on stage as a child and with a posible(?) eidetic memory as a kid I was required to learn an entire role for a play to step in for another sick little one in two days. I did it and shone. My father always had an interest in performing so I followed him as I grew up even though I was crippled by shyness. By 18, I became completely paralysed and could perform no more. I switched to direction instead and after my first year in University have not participated in theatre since. I often think of going back for there is nothing like the exhilarating thrill of performing in front of a live audience but I fear that my entirely messed up brain would be incapable of remembering my lines.
5. I failed my driver’s license the first time for actually making a defensive driving manoeuvre. I massive truck came speeding out of nowhere and I simply stopped short of making my turn into the intersection. I actually saved a massive accident from occurring. All of my parking, driving, everything was spot on. But because of the irresponsibility of the other driver, I was failed anyway and had to wait another n months to try again.
Alright, I need to break all of this depressing crap that I’m spewing and post something fun!
Now I have a link to this show in my sidebar: The Rick Mercer Report. I absolutely love it and it makes me laugh out loud. Not many things can do that (i.e. television shows or movies and the like.) This was one of my favourite clips from one of the episodes. And in case you’re wondering…I roll terrible ones.
I’ve been packing. My partner has been helping me. She made a comment earlier in the week that after her cousin had a colonoscopy, she was out for a couple days afterward. Hmmm. I have an endoscopy to be done as well so she is concerned that the weekend after, I may not be too functional. The following weekend is the move.
I’ve also been out to the new apartment to do some measuring. I needed to see it again as not being a visual person, I couldn’t really remember it and also, my spatial abilities are more lacking than they already were to begin with. I blame the meds but it could be possible mental deterioration as well. Shit, the place is small. Especially the bedroom. My bed is pretty much going to take up the entire room. Oh well. I think I can make everything else manage. I’ll just have to, I suppose. We currently have a huge one bedroom and I suppose I could have rented one very large as well if I was willing to go out of my budget but I am trying to be smart with my money.
My colleague and his father have managed to come through–at least to come and have a look to do some painting. Again, upon a second look, it was interesting. I realized that the colours weren’t exactly as I had remembered. It also has lovely exposed brick which I absolutely love but of course, some idiot in the past has painted over it. It would be ideal to have it restored but that is completely out of the question price wise. There is a lot of white. More than I remember so I could just simply white wash it all and be done with it. I will see what they suggest as I have no clue and am completely uninspired at this point. I can’t “decorate” to save my life anyway.
My partner has gone out now. A friend came by to take her out. All of our friends are (or were) her friends so I don’t know if they will remain my friends in the future. If they are open to it, I am but I guess it remains to be seen. My partner is also going out this evening as well. Ah, alone time. Best get used to that as well. Will have lots of that in the near future. But that is the course to be pursued.
She’s either been going out a bit or spending time in the other room when we are together? Or perhaps I am imagining it? Maybe it’s because I come home and spend time fiddling on the computer most of the evening? I don’t know.
So yes, she and her/our friend went to go out and buy her a bed. When they left, I said, “Have fun.” Fuck me. The things that come out of my mouth sometimes. I just want to shoot myself when I don’t express myself correctly or say things impulsively. I should be gagged most of the time.
Yes, I feel like a fragile little “eggy-weggy” that’s about to crack. Don’t worry, I haven’t quite reached the level of Alex from A Clockwork Orange. I am not about to start running rampant about my city wreaking all sorts of thieving and sexual, even murderous havoc. Although while taking some OTC cold medicine, I woke up at 0200hrs the other night, my heart racing, wide awake but in a complete stupor (physically speaking–like suffering from some form of bizarre ataxia–but this was probably due to being on a hypnotic) and after sitting for a while, I actually began to hear music. I’ve never had an auditory hallucination. Now it was either the pseudoephedrine (and possibly hypnotic combo) or just the pseudoephedrine itself and my mind falling apart. Pseudoephedrine is not recommended for some of us Bipolar folks but I’ve never had a problem with it before.
But back to the egg metaphor my little shell is about to crack and my yolk ready to drip forth and make an awful bloody mess.
I had a lovely online chat with gloomferret about letting it all hang out on blogs and how I was in “rather a state” today, sitting on my hands, debating about posting and well…pressure is mounting.
I can’t find someone to paint the new apartment I have leased. Well, I can but the quotes are astronomical. Now I have never done LSD but perhaps I suppose I will get the chance to enjoy the experience every day as I move from room to room. Okay, maybe I am exaggerating a bit but it really would be more pleasant to live in if I could get this done. And I really don’t have the mental and physical energy to do it myself. I have spoken to a colleague whose father paints and does odd jobs and such so perhaps they will take pity on me and I can have them do it for a more reasonable price.
I am still sick. I am getting over my cold slowly but the rest of me still continues to be yes, sick as ever. So what else is new. Mark your calendars folks! We’re counting down to April 05 for the endoscopy and the colonoscopy! I can not fucking wait.
But in the mean time, there is so much packing and organizing and re-organizing to do. Who wants what and where is what and what the fuck is what? I am thankful that my partner does not completely hate me but well…what can you honestly expect when two people are still living together when they have indeed ended their relationship. We are civil but we are not really communicating. However, we are still sharing a bed so thankfully, no one is suffering on the couch. We both have sleep issues so that is a good thing. I suppose it could be worse and we could be tearing each other’s heads off so I guess I am thankful for that.
My emotions are up, down, all the fuck around but mostly down at the moment. I’m surprised that I can actually get out of bed, go to work and even get a damn thing done. I suspect that this will be the status quo for a while? Who knows?
Is there anything else I can add? I don’t want this blog to turn into a giant piece of shit with me doing nothing but ranting and complaining and whining. It used to be a whole lot better with well, more fun and variety(?) but life just isn’t much fun at the moment.
I just posted on my Blogger blog that I have migrated here. I was getting comments there and I’m getting them here and I can’t maintain two blogs at the same time. Yes, I have a very fractured brain (in more ways than one) and can think in (sometimes) multidimensional ways but really, having two identical blogs does not make sense.
So update your blogrolls everyone and I’ll try and get a bit more comfortable in my “new home.”
I might be migrating to WordPress. I’ve kind of hated Blogger ever since I started and I just jumped on it because, well…I saw so many other people using it.
I don’t know.
It might take me an eternity to decide.
Or it might not.
And I’m not sure if it will work. It’s supposed to–so it says. But well, it’s not like I have any Pulitzer Prize worthy stuff on here anyway. However, I do appreciate peoples’ comments and links to their blogs for reference. Even if I had to start over (i.e. if everything sort of *disappeared* into the cyber ether in the process) I suppose it wouldn’t be the travesty to end all travesties.
More change though…