Archive for May, 2010
Not really so much of a joke here. Funny in an odd sense, however?
I went out drinking last night, and of course, a stupid thing to do. Nonetheless, human beings are stupid creatures, and I may be a real prize winning example, there. With my obscenely, long, self-medication history, when you are battling a lot of demons in your head, that demon itself, may come knockin’ on your doorstep. It’s not your demon, though. It’s an old friend that’s never left your side. Always there. Reliable to a “fault.” Helping you through everything you’ve ever had to deal with, over all those years.
So, it’s pretty hard not to welcome that old buddy back with open arms. Even though I’d left him behind some time ago.
I left the pub without even bothering to finish my last drink. Or second last…third last… It was my last, though. Still, it very easily couldn’t have been.
Alcoholism is a disease. Many strong theories abound regarding genetics (yep, over here) and even the hardwiring of brains. An “off” switch is lacking, in simple terms. Alcohol doesn’t affect the alcoholic’s brain in a certain manner, and subsequently bodily processes in a certain manner. Unlike other people–whose brains are different.
Anyway, how “funny” or “odd,” that someone who could probably drink the vast majority of you under the table, simply walked away. Why not just keep drinking if I was in such rough shape to begin with?
I was tired. I wasn’t even completely plastered! If anything, I was drunk on exhaustion! Or drunk on fighting. This battle.
I am tired. Maybe it’s time to put down my sword. At least for today? I think I already have, and will leave it laying on the floor for the rest of the night. Well, I shall try, at least.
Because the thing is, I can’t stop this battle. You only get so many chances (if any?) to try and make sense of things in your own little Universe. And when you do, you might actually end up finding that your own little Universe is not be so “little” after all. Despite the fact that this is making me go insane at various points, almost killing me, too, I should probably–no definitely–consider myself quite lucky. If I have to go through all of this to make it out the other side? It should all be worth it?
…or maybe just without water from the womb?
I’ll begin to breathe…again.
“Hole In The Heart” by Karine Polwart
I’ve asked myself this question before but maybe not so much in the forthcoming manner. I’m going to end up “interviewing” myself here, as well. You may learn a bit more about my blogging habits than I’ve revealed, but if there’s one thing this blog is, that would be honest! In fact, I think I’ve actually revealed some things to me!
However, before I begin, how have I asked this in the past? I suppose it’s been more in an immediate sense. Done out of frustration? I’ve questioned the point of my writing, as I’ve felt it all garbage. I’ve felt angst and anxiety when I couldn’t come up with material.
I’ve found blogging tedious, boring. I’ve posted how many times about needing a break, only to come right back! Then, I feel it’s some kind of crazy addiction! That confuses me like you wouldn’t believe and drives me totally over the edge!
So, I’m going to ask this question now (and a few more) in a broader sense.
1. Why, just exactly, the hell do I blog?
In no particular order: I find it cathartic, I do want to help people and provide useful information if I can. I use my blog as a diary–a tool for tracking details about my own mental health issues (e.g. my seizures.) I try to use it as a creative outlet and I’ve used it to reach out to others, whether I know if they’re reading or not. Sometimes as a cry for help.
2. Do you regret any of your posts?
Oh, shit yeah! There are some that I used to call (and I still do) “Drive-by’s.” As in a Drive-by Shooting? I can’t take credit for that term. I read it on another blogger’s blog who had me blogrolled.
Those posts were written when I was generally in self-medication heaven (or hell.) They’re pretty fucked up (or entertaining dependent upon your perspective.) Then again, I was too (fucked up, but not entertaining!) I could include some “non-self-medicated” ones, where I was just plain, old bonkers, but the Drive-by’s I usually reserve for the ones I wrote while being wasted.
Many of my “cries for help” posts I am extremely embarrassed about. It may not be so much in writing them, but more about they way I did it. I’m not sure. I don’t like to ask for help, let alone cry for it!
3. Beyond individual posts, do you feel anything negative about your blog, overall?
Not really. As an entire package, I don’t think I have any strong feelings regarding it, period.
4. Have you ever wished you never started your blog?
Oh, god. This is one of those weird, hypothetical questions where you really have no clue, do you? How can you go back to any decision you’ve ever made, and imagine how it would have affected your life, all the way up to present day!
I suppose I would have to say yes. Or at least thought about it at some points? This blog has been around for a little over 3.5 years. Hmmm…lots to think about? Lots of potential “yes” answers, there? And even though wishing I’d never started may seem counterintuitive to the prior question, that one is all about content.
My blog has taken me down some twisted roads, darkened alleys, over rocky terrain, through beautiful gardens and left me standing still, scratching my head at empty crossroads. It’s brought to me so many emotions. I don’t even know if I could name them all–and that has nothing to do with my Alexithymia! Some of them I was already well aquainted with; some I preferred never to get to know!
5. Do you think you’ll ever shut down your blog or quit blogging?
I don’t know. For now, though? Nope.
Starting new course tomorrow at school. Can barely get out of bed and move now. Can’t think at all. Can this or will this “force” me to think? Somehow get me going(?) That would be good.
I can’t go on much longer like this. Any choice? No. I can’t control my brain. I can’t control life. I wonder what’s going to happen in the near future? I’m kind of laughing. Just how much more can I take? I’m already pretty, fucking far gone! HA! Oh, shit. Goddamn, bloody hell! I am seriously losing it! *laughing*
It’s not funny, really. I was amazed I could speak in a relatively, coherent fashion on the phone today.
Logic and reason can only take you so far. I can see the logic and reason but I can’t grasp it. Because I think I can see some of the “illogical,” too. Yes? And it makes sense. So, the “illogical” becomes the logical! Why, then, if it all “makes sense,” am I so messed up?
Because not everything in life is logical. No, the vast majority of it isn’t. Sorry, Spock. I want ya, I need ya, but this time…
Also, please note that this has been written under the heavy influence of Valium and Gravol. I don’t believe I’ve reached the point of self-medication yet. No, seriously. Well, maybe ease up on the Gravol? I don’t know. I’m too much of a wreck so maybe I do need it! And tummy is not happy! *nods*
Maybe my life is getting closer to becoming that nuclear wasteland after all. I’d mentioned that a couple of days ago. I’d actually really like that to happen. I thought I’d been to the brink and back before. Perhaps, I was only doing some warm ups.
So lemme get this straight.
I’m completely, psychologically imbalanced, as I was choosing life vs. death yesterday.
I’m nowhere near finished school.
I have yet to find a job and I have no clue how long that will take.
And now, I have entered into a partnership to start a business.
I found a cardboard box when I came home and was given our “first receipt” to throw it into!
If I wasn’t crazy before, I am now. Or I will be. Or I am. Or I will be. Or I…
I’m trying to “decide” whether or not I can get out of bed for the rest of the day. Decide.
They say you always have decisions and choices in life, but what if life makes those decisions and choices for you? Then it places you almost in a trap. Sure, there may still be some left, but what of their variability? Does life only offer up so many choices? Even then, do you make the decision or does life remain the trickster that it is, only to allow you to think you’ve done it. When it has again.
Today didn’t begin so well. I got up, took my meds, grabbed some breakfast. Hey! Some self-care! Good for me, right? I went back to my bed and with barely a spoonful into me, I started choking from uncontrollable, heaving sobs. At least it wasn’t like when I was in the restaurant the other night, fighting back the urge not to water down my Pad Thai. No, I was at home and free to make my cereal as soupy as I wished.
Life is offering me one choice right now, and that is to move ahead. Wait. No. There is another choice.
I briefly considered throwing myself into hospital and had I enough strength to laugh, I would have rolled right off my bed! After so many of them now (seven) they are of no use to me. I’m either going to off myself (and it will be successful) or I won’t. That is not to say I am going to do it at the moment, but those are my “choices.” Quite simply put: basically, black and white.
This black and white dichotomy will no doubt travel with me all of my life. That is, until I choose the “other” option? Not to move ahead? I probably never will choose to kill myself, but nothing is without the realm of possibility. And please, let us refrain from any debates regarding suicide? I’m not really in the mood, if you haven’t already figured that out.
To move ahead is my reality, though. Realities, dichotomies, blacks and whites. It’s very easy to read the dichotomies in black and white on a page: you can’t have joy without sorrow; pleasure without pain; love without loss; loss without grief; fear without anger… I needn’t go on. But the reality of it?
I know I’ve had my share. Even just recently if you’ve been reading this blog, and I’m still facing some issues. So often, I don’t know what to do about all of those things above. It’s another dichotomy I face. I’m either numb, or in so much pain I can barely function. It’s usually the former.
Not long ago, I spoke to someone who said they had been through so much, it was like their entire world was completely obliterated in the process. The fact that they survived, was almost a testament that they could presumably get through anything? I thought them kind of lucky, even though that process was surely a living hell.
I guess my life hasn’t reached the point of becoming such a nuclear wasteland (yet?) Maybe it will become so…maybe even soon? And then I’ll be left standing amidst nothing but rubble. All on my own, as well.
Poor Aspie Teacher! I denied her information about this via Twitter, because I said I wanted to write a post about it. Then what do I go and do? I don’t write it!!!
I don’t like doing things like that. It makes me feel totally irresponsible and mean. Well…here it is. The post with a bit more information about the cane I bought.
Aspie Teacher, up there had asked me what it looked like. I had described it a bit in the post above, however, there is a lot more detail as to why I bought it (for my seizures and epilepsy etc…) In terms of what it looks like, it’s one of those collapsible ones that you tend to see used by people who are visually impaired. This is exactly what I wanted, so I could pack it up and carry it with me wherever I went. You see, the whole point of me buying it, was because I started having Reflex seizures and they’ve been hitting me like Mack Trucks–right out of the blue.
It’s also black. Why? How could you even ask such a question??? It’s black because black rules the Universe!!!
As a bit of time passed, I realized that if I was going to be hobbling around on this thing, something needed to be done. Even though black rules the Universe, that wasn’t enough. Hmmm…let’s see if we can fancy up my “Wonder Cane,” a bit. I’d try and take some pictures but that wouldn’t work. It’s a skinny, cylindrical object. Kinda hard. So, I’ll just tell you what ended up on Wonder Cane.
Right at the top, I put a little Radiation Symbol. I called up my good pal Spider-Man and he came by for a visit. It’s been about a year, I think? He brought some nice drawings of him along with that, so he’s crawling around and popping out in a couple of places. From some of his older feature cartoons, some yellow “starbursts” that look sort of like “Kapow’s!” that you’d see on the screen.
After that, Spidey and I decided to take a bit of a vacation. It’s been a long time since he’s been to Canada, and I’m patriotic, so I bought him a flag. I put some Canadian paraphernalia on Wonder Cane, for sure! *PA salutes flag*
And speaking of flags, we had a little problem getting a flight to our destination. Well, at least part of it? To get across the ocean, the only way we could do it, was by hopping aboard a Pirate Ship! “ARRRR Matey!!!” Thankfully, they didn’t ask for Doubloons or anything, and our cash was good enough. I think they liked us too, as I managed to score their flag! It’s wrapped around the top to cover the manufacturer’s name and logo. Two large skulls and crossbones. Definitely had to cover up that!
We finally reached our destination. Egypt. I actually met someone from the lineage of Nefertiti! Can you believe that! They gave me a really great (and highly valuable) picture of her. And an amazing Ankh! I was speechless. They have prime real estate on Wonder Cane!
On the way home, we decided to relax and unwind. We went to an aquarium and bought some fish. Really, pretty ones, too! Bright and shiny! We found a wee Panda that looked like it was in need of rescue, so we took him home, as well. And of course, Aspie Penguin. Did you think he didn’t come along as well? His was the first picture I added. It’s an adult one of him, though. The one on my blog, his avatar, is from his younger days.
So, I guess that’s it? That’s Wonder Cane!
I was dragged out of the house tonight, very much against my own will. Probably just as well. It hasn’t exactly been one of my best days. The PTSD Fairy came to visit me but in a much more “exciting” way! Oh, yes! Today I got to have maybe, just maybe…a bit of my past and present collide. I’m not sure yet. I haven’t had enough time to think about it because I was dragged out of the house tonight–very much against my own will.
Unfortunately, PTSD isn’t a very nice dinner companion. It’s not exactly good manners to cry into your dish of Pad Thai, is it? That’s alright, PA. Just keep swallowing. You like your food nice and spicy anyway, don’t you? Let’s just crank the heat right up?
So full of snark was I, the word fuck came out of my mouth about 14 times while eating. I just about told J. to fuck off before we even entered the restaurant. When we were leaving, a kid wasn’t watching what he was doing, and banged into me with my all my gear. I called him a “motherfucker.”
Okay…are we reaching Aspie Meltdown Territory? Bipolar Cycling City? A bit of fireworks going on? At least in PAs head?
Well, not just there. Fireworks in my neighbourhood. This is an annual thing for “Victoria Day.” Yes, “Happy Birthday You Old Dead Queen!” Actually, it’s the only decent fireworks show they have in my city, anymore. Rather a shame, but tonight I couldn’t give a shit. That is why I was dragged out of my house tonight–very much against my own will. J. and his friend wanted to come down and shoot them, as we all did last year.
However, J. said he didn’t bring his camera. He “wasn’t going to bother.” I told him that if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have bothered either! Then we argued about discussed how I should shoot them. Meanwhile, I had already set my camera up for both options (HIS way and MY way.) Just so I could prove that I knew what would work? That I…well, I thought I knew what was best?
So, walk down to the water, jam the tripod into the sand and wait for the show. I didn’t tell him how I was shooting.
I’ll try to show you all some of the fruits of my labour as soon as I can. 270 pictures is kind of a lot to go through. Yep, that’s right. I shot 270 pictures during a fireworks display. With no remote or cable release, also. It was almost a bit of a workout, but I “won?” Doing it MY way? *rolls eyes*
I always use ‘bulb’ and it’s even easier with Digital SLRs now. He wanted Aperture Priority. When he saw the shots and how many, he admitted defeat. They’re not all winners, of course! Hardly! But that is how photography works. You have to take how many shots to get just the right amount of…”winners?” Or even anything that will pass? And I’m not even a professional. Hardly again!
Yeah, I guess it was good to get out. Do something somewhat creative? At least the pics are a lot better than last year’s.
Fucking Aperture Priority. *laughing* I don’t think I could have whipped off my 270 with that! HA!
NOTE TO PA: When you get up tomorrow, have a look at your recent blog posts. You are really sounding like a bitch.
I’ve often wondered if I am one of “those people.” You know the type, right? They live, breathe, practically devour the continual chaos they create for themselves. I’ll stay away from the psychobabble and medical jargon (I know, on this blog?!) However, there are now “terms” for “those people.” They may even be able to get help for their “affliction.”
Then again, maybe “those people” just need to look in the mirror and shut the fuck up. Now there’s some good therapy.
Okay, Socrates. I do try. Sometimes I may try to much. In fact, I’m pretty sure of it. Ripping apart every little piece of myself, putting it on slides over and over again. Examine, re-examine, get a new slide… I can’t count the number of microscopes I’ve broken. I guess that’s a fair indication, then.
So in the end, is my life worth living or not? That’s not really what I’m looking for, though: “The unexamined life is not worth living.” It’s about content, yet even still, begging the question of its worth seems tangential at best, and merely ponderable at worst!
Nonetheless, if I’m one of “those people,” I do look in the mirror, just as the microscope, and I do tell myself to shut the fuck up. Or maybe I don’t. Maybe the mirror is just another slide, eh Socrates? Or, it’s another piece from a broken microscope, which makes me start your process all over again. But then it becomes meaningless, because eventually, I realize that the mirror’s broken.
Maybe I don’t need a mirror so much as I thought. I can still tell myself to shut the fuck up without it? No. I need to somehow see what I am telling myself to shut the fuck up about.
Hey, at least I can admit all of this? You’ve got to give me some points for that. It may be more than can be said for “those people.” But, the question remains unanswered. How much of the chaos in my life am I ultimately responsible for?
Years ago, I was seeing a therapist, and she gave me a tiny scrap of paper with this quote from Nietzsche: “You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.” I wanted to tell both her and Nietzsche to shove a BBQ charcoal briquette up their asses, do a jig, and then shit me out a diamond instead.
Yeah, yeah…I get the picture…I gotta shit out my own star.
Actually, it’s more a question of when. Not whether I’m going to do it. Maybe I should do it now while I’m stoned out of my mind. Gravol to attempt to quell the post-“ick”tal© nausea, and Valium to try and keep the anxiety and depression at bay (that also come along with the package.) Although, my Valium doesn’t make me stoned.
I have an outstanding email to send but I’ve been procrastinating. I had to take care of another first that had triggered something, and that led up to me not sending the other one. On top of that, before I received the email that triggered me, the one I am putting off was going to be emotionally laden enough–and potentially triggery on its own! However, it does have its good points, too! *sighs*
There are three people in my family that I care about. Plus, an extremely, confusing fourth. That would be my mother. I am no longer tied to her as a small child without choice. Now, I am tied to her of my own volition. There’s a reason for that. That reason is actually one point of my procrastination.
The other three that I actually care about? That would be my sister, my cousin C. (from non-bio dad’s side) and his mother (married into non-bio dad’s side, but divorced long ago, and recently widowed.) Do I need to point anything out there that might be a bit triggery? Also, do I need to point out that I didn’t use the word love? I don’t think I even could.
Maybe the rest of them can, all of them can but… Oh, I’ve heard the word enough. Bandied about, all around, and once I became old enough to comprehend its concept, did I even feel it from them then?
Well, I know I don’t feel it now! I suppose it’s not so much of a problem when you “presume” something, then manage to grasp the certainty of it in your head. Nonetheless, when a cold, hard reality hits you straight in the face, you may still get a bit of a shock.
I haven’t spoken to non-bio dad (and by extension the rest of them) in three years now. It wasn’t a conscious decision. Time made it for me. It kept rolling 7’s on a point game, while I slumped in front of the slots with an empty wallet. But that group? The odds of finding love from them really are like winning the $1,000,000 from that 25 cent machine. They don’t hang around casinos, though. No, they wouldn’t be able to adapt to that environment. They don’t gamble. They play for keeps.
Vultures, high atop in their trees of denial. They fly to each other’s trees every so often. Actually, quite often. Circling around in their venue, large arcs indicating their pack-like mentality. There’s only a middle ground in their preternatural wilderness. If you’re weak or display any signs of being so, you can’t find anything large enough to hide behind on the landscape. If you’re too strong, you can’t run faster than the entire horde. Either way, they’ll tear you apart, bleed you in seconds, and eat you simply as a snack in between meals.
So, why haven’t I sent that email yet? It’s to my cousin’s mother. This woman was like a mother to me. I didn’t see her often as she and her son lived on the other side of the country. But when I did, I never left her arms, her lap. Even when not a child. Hell, if I saw her now, it probably wouldn’t change and I’m 40 years old! I received more affection from her than I did my own mother. That’s not a judgment. Just fact. My mother is unbelievably, mentally ill. She is untreated and never has been her entire life. Definitely Bipolar but sometimes I can almost see all of my diagnoses in her.
Hearing the news from my cousin that this woman’s husband died was upsetting enough. But then he followed it up by asking if anyone had told me. WHAM! Remember what I said up there about having a grasp of it in your head but…? Now, let me get this straight Vultures. I mean so little to you, that someone dies and you still won’t speak to me? I see. Or rather, I don’t see! Bloody hell! I don’t think I want to see!!! I don’t think I can see!!! You’ve just swooped down and plucked out my eyes with your razor sharp beaks!!!
As for the rest of the triggery? Well, it will be so good to re-establish contact, and she wants to hear from me very much. Although, she and my mother were extremely close. I want to bring up bio-dad with her. You see, that is why I am now tied to my mother of my own volition. She is starting to open up about my conception and who my father really is. My mother may have shared some things with this woman. If so, I want to find out what those things were.