Archive for April, 2007


Alright, so today has been rather boring.  So much so that I’m back on the computer to give you all another update.

I showered today.  That’s good.  And I need to do laundry.  I didn’t bring much with me.

The food is killing me.  I need to speak to ex-partner as she is in the food industry and find out who on earth is the supplier for this joint.  It’s not cooked here–too heavy and too blargh.  It is really doing a number on my gastrointestinal tract.  But I am eating.  I need to as I have lost more weight.  Not a lot but a few more pounds.  I am now the smallest I have ever been as an adult/teen–down to where I was when I was practising anorectic behaviour.  And I’m not doing that now.

But I am in pain and whoo…I won’t tell you about the bathroom.  Well, I’m kind of used to it anyway but man, the pain is kind of bad.  And because of it–between the iron supplements (causing constipation) and the food (causing diarrhea) well:

PUBLIC EMBARRASSMENT ALERT

I have haemorrhoids (again.) Yes, this happens occasionally.  It’s happened all my life as I was told(?) I was born with anal fissures.  Yay me? So I asked the doctor today for some Preparation H.  I am so laughing as I write this…good ol’ Prep. H.  We have a long history.  I absolutely hate it but it’s so necessary at these times.

Anyway, she said that varying bowel movements don’t cause haemorrhoids! I just about slapped her.  First she’s wrong and second…my ass doesn’t lie! Then she said they couldn’t get it and she’d have to “order” something else from the pharmacy.  What? Is there a ban on “toxic” Preparation H? Good grief.  I’m tempted to go run out and buy some as I finally have off ward privileges.

That’s the only good news today.  I met with yet another psychiatrist or two or something, a social worker.  Whatever.  They are going to review my meds, blah…blah…blah…  I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, same old song and dance.  They talked about some kind of addiction therapy.  I don’t know.  I don’t know much right now.

I met a young man (same age as me? a bit younger? I can never tell peoples’ ages…)  Anyway, he is being discharged but gave me his phone number.  No, I’m not “picking up” again in the psych ward (see Hospitalization Story #5, I think, now under new category “Hospitalizations” if you want to know I was a bad girl during my first–and no, not any cute girls/women on the floor yet–haha.)  He was apparently quite amused by my disaffected commentary on life and said I should become a writer.  Well, that’s a compliment.

Oh and here’s a hot one.  Ex-partner and I think her brother told her mother that I am Bipolar.  It all came out when she called ex-partner when she was going to pick up my keys/cat and ex-partner told her what she was doing.  Her mother asked if I was Bipolar.  Now she never would have figured this out as I have never exhibited any signs in front of her.  Neither ex-partner nor I had ever told her.  So we think someone slipped.  Oh well, I don’t care and even ex-partner’s mother is being supportive.  God, I still want to just die thinking about that too.  Well, maybe not die but it’s so thoughtful and it hurts and it’s just a reminder of again what is lost–even if she is kind of a crazy woman herself.

EDIT: Re: food…they’ve just come around with a menu so I can have a look and make some selections.  That’s perhaps promising.  Maybe that will help as since I’m new I’ve just been being given whatever.  And they still haven’t “ordered” me my lovely Ensure yet.


Alright, you can’t keep a good(?)–or at least obsessive blogger down…

No Wishes

I have so many wishes for both good and evil
But I dare not speak them aloud
Nor commit them to page for eyes to see
Be they shared with best friend or foe
Oh how I beg with great ardour
Not to even think them with tired mind
For if you knew of my wishes you would weep painful rivers
Yes so identical to my own
And soon they would fill the deep waters where I drown
I would swim but eventually fail
And left weak I would sink drenched solely in tears
In this solemn wishing well alone

Do with this what you will–as always with my *ahem* literary posts. 

Alright I think I might try and listen to my iPod and relax now but that might be a little dangerous.  Might have to be careful with my music selections…yes.  The Tallis Scholars might be a definite no no right now.


Hi Everyone, I don’t have a lot of time, am exhaustedand well, hi from the psych ward…or some variation of something in our medical system…but I have access to a computer.  How bizarre is that?

They’re hardcore and weird here as I have just had a head to toe physical(?)

Erm…but everyone seems nice?

I would respond to each of you personally and maybe when I am not so absolutely knackered I will spend some time blogging about my “life” here in yes, my 6th hospitlization…oh dear.

So yes…I did go inpatient.  And I feel like I’m in complete outer space right now.  And I have no idea how long I will stay here.

Thank you to everyone for being so supportive.  It really means a lot.  Everyone is saying I did the right thing by doing this.

I still feel like crap though.  Sheesh I couldn’t even remember what I had posted on Sunday night.

Hugs,
PA…and I’m using crappy IE so this may look kind of weird and it’s already crashed once.


I think I need to go to the Hospital. I’m getting too selfdestrutrictive.–ok–fuck it i can’t spell The pain is too much. I can only hope that they will take me even though I have not overdosed or have not done a bad cutting. I haven’t even done anything, just drinking and just get get more stressed. I am still reluctant and am still thinking of staying up all night and hoping that things will get better. They won’t though. I messed up tonight. I’m still terribly still screwed up.

Fuck. Do no read my blog.


Okay, so I’m still unpacking and this was my Newton’s Cradle:

photo-3.jpg

I’ve been trying to untangle Newton’s balls but alas…it’s hopeless. Although it does have a certain appeal to it now..all completely messed up and in some bizarre hanging globular clump.

Oh well, I guess I shall have to buy another for my fix of shiny objects and fun noises…


I’ve thought about getting a tattoo about three times in my life. All of these times I was (hypo)manic. What stopped me the first two times was I could never figure out what on earth I would like permanently inked upon my body.

The third time, I got a little bit more creative and decided to design something in Sanskrit. It was the translation of the meaning of my name and my cat’s name (I had given her a name in Sanskrit) and she had just died. I even went to the tattoo shop, spoke to the artist, had agreed to have him draw it up but then, for some reason, I changed my mind. I’m actually kind of glad I did. Not that I have a problem with tattoos. I just really don’t think they’re for me.

But in light of recent events, I’m thinking I should place one of these on my forehead.

First we have this:

biohazard.gif

Or, a slight variation since I am so medically disordered, if we wish to get a little more specific:

biomed.gif

I grew up in a small town where they refined Uranium. A lot of the local “Green” people hated it and were always vowing to have the refinery torn down. Of course it never was. We were nicknamed “The Little Town That Glows.” Yes, how sweet. So maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. If that is the case, we could go with this:

radiation-sign.jpg

Or, if none of you like any of the above, we can simply go with something very generic:

do_not_enter.png

So please let me know your favourite/s.


Okay, I’m a wreck…I just woke up, had a rather fitful night and well, this is my last day of “vacation” and I have to go back to work tomorrow. The “real world.” My supposed “real life.” I’ve been thinking about this all week and it will either be good for me, or my brain will simply pack it’s own bags and go on its own vacation and I will either have to go inpatient or on Short Term Disability. I am still not doing well.

I swear, this week has been surreal. Between the move, bizarre pub madness, stress piled upon stress, the depression and fighting “evil thoughts,” it seems I’ve now been “propositioned” by my ex-boyfriend and his girlfriend.

She actually brought it up, not him apparently so it’s not the “all men are pigs” theory–and my ex-boyfriend is actually a decent guy–remember, he/they were the ones who took me home after Friday night’s incident but it was pretty much his doing.

So, I found this out late last night when he called me and woke me up. I had called him earlier in the day to say thank you for getting me home safely and well, “sorry” for ruining what was otherwise a pleasant evening? Even though it wasn’t really my fault. But I’m the sort of person that apologizes for everything anyway.

Erm…so yes. Quite an interesting phone call to wake up to. I mean, we talked about other things but well…that was certainly a biggie. I wasn’t particularly surprised because of the events of the prior evening, let’s just say but I was rather surprised to have them flung back at me rather quickly and rather, shall we say…so bluntly? Well, I’m about as blunt as a mallet to the cranium so really, I suppose I’m getting a dose of my own medicine.

I simply said that I didn’t know. And thank you and I was flattered. I mean…we sort of discussed things and it would be social and caring and gentle and we would all spend time together. It’s not like I would be some plaything and get messed around with and then tossed out the door on my ass. I mean, I know my ex-boyfriend and for all his bizarre behaviour (I suspect extreme ADD) he is a kind and gentle soul.

But oh dear. What did I do? Did I turn on that “manic charm” again? I mean, I’m not *really* feeling that (hypo)manic but pour a few drinks into me and I become this little fireball of yes, (hypo)manic energy. Or I can…and I guess I did and well…oh dear. I think because of my current state of mind, the drinking has exacerbated the cycling and it’s just mental ping pong.

Anyway, it seems I have bewitched my ex-boyfriend’s lover. Actually, there’s no “seem” about it. I fucking did and I know it. I’m just being modest because PA doesn’t like to think she is actually capable of doing such things. And well, she usually isn’t! At least not when she really wants to! Or when it’s a proper situation or like, a “proper” relationship!

*sigh*

Ex-boyfriend wants to meet this afternoon to hang out. Girlfriend won’t be there. I just want to stay in bed and hide under the duvet all day.

Well, as oft been said, my life is never boring.

EDIT: Not going to see ex-boyfriend today…only other “social plans” are to see the other gent if he calls to give him back his ring.  Maybe he won’t and I can be just left alone.

Levity



*ahem* (clears throat)

Happy Birthday To You

Happy Birthday To You

Happy Birday Dear _____________

Happy Birthday To You!

PS – Your song is on it’s way and I’m sure you are going to love it…not much of a “birthday present” but, eh?


I tried to find a certain song via YouTube to post but I can’t find it so I will send it personally. I had a pint for this person but things again got a little out of hand. It was a little like Alice falling down the rabbit hole and a bit of LSD (even though I’ve never done LSD…it was just a lot of overstimulation.)

It’s a lot I can’t talk about right now but the worst thing is that…basically…is that I was sexually assualted…Similarly to when I was a teenager and a boy grabbed my genitals very violently in high school in a hallway when I was in gym class.

This happened tonight when I was in a bar. I was taken home in a cab by an ex-boyfriend and his now partner but that is a whole other story. Running into them, I mean.

I know it’s not like rape or penetration or ripping off of clothes or really violent contact but it still feels like a violation and it still upsets me like the time it happened when I was 15.

Anyway, Happy Birthday to YOU dear friend and I will send you the song. Sorry this post is so screwed up and not really a “Happy Birthday ” post. But you know me anyway…