I talk to myself. Actually, i talk to myself alot.
Sometimes i talk to myself to sort things out. To keep myself company. Pretending to talk to the dog. To remind myself things. To sing. To talk myself into something. To talk myself out of something.
Today, i was working on the super secret project to get it finished up. The craft-that-shall-not-be-named. Its a craft I have never done before, but i saw a good tutorial, and i thought it looked easy enough i i would be able to do it.
The entire time i was working on it, i was talking to myself....well sing talking to myself.
I have this mantra that i use when i am doing a new task, because it reminds me that even though something is new, it is doable.
"Nothings impossible, nothings impossible, nothings impossible you see. Somethings improbable, somethings improbable, somethings improbable you know"
Its weird. But it works for me.
Does that make me crazy?
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
On scent, searching for "edward", sleep and dreams
I will always reember my first boyfriend. I will remember him and not because he was particularily remarkable. I was in 9th grade, as was he. And, like most 9th grade romances he was never the love of my life, nor did we ever get that far. But, I will always remember him because he wore CK One, and i think i was more in love with that scent than i was with him. Even now, i will be out walking my dog (as happened to me today) or in some public place and someone will walk by me. They will have a scent that reminds me of how he smelled in CK One, and my knees melt a bit and no matter who it is, i find myself a touch attracted to them. To that scent.
The same thing has happened to me time and again. Everyone I have ever dated or been involved with, I can remember the scent of. Some clearer than others. Some at different points in the relationship (ill come back to that in a sec), but scent is a strong attractor and a strong sense in me. Some scents are comforting - like the smell of certain foods i associate with home. Some scents are scary - usually those that trigger some bad memories in me. Some scents make me feel ill - usually related to certain chemicals. But the overriding thing is i think i walk through this world using my nose more so than anything else. I forget faces, names, even the sounds of voices, but i can identify who is nearby by what I can smell.
Funny story - i was in a relationship. Happy, enjoying myself, and then suddenly something changed. I couldn't put my finger on what but i wasn't as insta-attracted as i was at first. Almost a year later i found out why. He had stopped wearing deoderant. Apparently, the scent i had associated with this person was yet another mass produced product - to which i am slightly disappointed in myself for always finding myself attracted to the way certain products smell on certain people as opposed to how they themselves smell but.... I was surprised by how something as simple as that started the chain in changing how i saw, reacted to and related to someone. Its one of the many things that leads me to think that losing my sense of smell would, for me, be more catastrophic than losing my sense of sight or hearing. I do enjoy my sense of touch though, and taste is closely linked to scent so.....i would like to keep those two.
I know for me, in relationships, i am frequently attracted to the same type of presence. Someone who can make me feel small, fragile, someone i get this sense that i can depend on. In some senses, I am looking for my Edward - looking for someone to protect me, to take care of me and to fawn over me.
One of the blogs i read was talking about this recently - and remembering their Edward. I haven't been so lucky. I dont have just one "edward" to remember. I have a few. I remember the girl with spikes who taught me how to defend myself, and called me "little amanda" and made comments about my appearance that just enforced those feelings that make us feel (and i hate to describe it as such because my inner feminist is crying very hard) girly. I remember the big strong boys who could lift me up and make it seem effortless - even as i screamed - who made me feel that no matter how strong i was, if i wasn't strong enough, there was someone there who was. There have been a few of those - and I am attracted to them for their sheer strength and ability to phsyically hurt me, even while they are all big teddy bears and afraid to use their strength near anyone.
I have been lucky enough to have a few "edward's" in my time. and unlucky enough, or perharps not smart enough to both have let them go and to have chased them away. I want to feel strong on my own, independant, i-am-woman-hear-me-roar. Having these people in my life, i don't feel that way and my inner feminist gets upset and bitchy. Because, while my inner girly-girl is rejoicing, it often feels only one side can come out to play.
I want to be both, strong and taken care of. Butch and femme. Girl and feminist. And to be with someone, gender irregardless, where i can feel both. Because i knw that kind of balance doesnt happen to often in real life, i seek it in a less than orthodox way - to have one on each arm, and edward and someone for whom i am their edward.
Life doesnt work that way.
In other news, I am in the process of doing what they call a "hard reset" to my sleeping patterns and insomnia tendencys. It involved only allowing myself just over 6 hours in bed a night. Regrdless of how much i sleep. Which supposedly after a certain point of exhaustion, my brain will learn it is to go to sleep and stay asleep when it is given the chance and to make good use of its time. It hasn't learned this lesson yet which means in reality i am getting next to no sleep at the moment. I hope this works, but until it does i am tired, cranky, likely to cry to easily (as if i dont already) and if i hit a certain point of exhaustion, i might become violent in the i would like to kill someone way. The hard part of course being deciding on a target (just joking).
But having 18 hours a day means having to fill 18 hours a day - and realizing all my hobbies and activities dont stretch that far or that i am not sure if i want them to go that far.
The hard part for me when it comes to sleep is the dreams. I have weird, strange and disturbing dreams, often violent ones or night mares. Because of them i wake up scared, anxious, and can quickly go into a panic attack after waking. It hasn't happened recently (the panic) but the dreams are a far too frequent occurance.
As of late, the dreams have been a strange mixture of pleasure and horror, and i am not a fan of what i have been dreaming of.
I had a dream that my younger sister gave me $5 to help her commit suicide. By smothering her with a pillow in my mother's bed. Which we were both sleeping in. And, i agreed to the plan. But she kept cheating and taking breaths, which meant i couldn't actually smother her. She said it was ok, and we would try again later, but she was tired. She went to sleep, and i started having sex, in the bed, with a male. No orgasm (this is a common theme in my dreams, is that there is never a dream, or real, orgasm. Which makes me frustrated when i wake up LOL). When my sister woke up (sending the male scrambling out of the room), she was upset to still be alive, and therefore told my mother on me for trying to kill her. This got me kicked out of the bed, so i charged my sister the $5 ...and yea i know the dream is weird.
I had another dream that there was mushrooms growing in my nose.
I had a dream where i was coughing up blood, and despite 2 trips to the ER, was told this was normal and i should go home and stop bothering people - even thought i knew this meant my lungs were liquifying inside of me and this was a dangerous and bad thing to have happen. I was going to go abck to the ER a third time (as the coughing and the blood was getting worse) but before i went, knowing i would be hospitalized if they finally listened, i wanted to have one last good time. Insert sex here.
My dreams have, of late, been like this - a combo of erotica (which i think boils down to the fact i haven't been laid in a while and am missing out on that human contact. I know you can get that type of physical and mental connection without sexual activity, but it is just easiest, for me, to find it in sex. It is, despite everything, less scary that way - maybe because then the absolute worst thing someone can do to be is to abuse me sexually. And that I have lived through. Because, at least then they cant get at me where i am most vulnerable, in my heart and my thoughts. Its a way to get the connection i am looking for,, but maintain the distance and control that makes me feel safe. I knwo this is not the healthiest way to handle things but right now, it is how i function. I am working on changing this and recognizing it is the first step.
The dreams have been erotica and horror. The horror is typical for me. The combo is the part i am having trouble handling - it is hard to wake up from a dream and not know if you are breathing fast because panic is coming soon, or because you are aroused.
It confuses me and it makes me anxious because i just dont know. And so i want to go back to these at least being separate dream topics. Things are easier to handle when they are separate and maintian their little spaces in life.
The same thing has happened to me time and again. Everyone I have ever dated or been involved with, I can remember the scent of. Some clearer than others. Some at different points in the relationship (ill come back to that in a sec), but scent is a strong attractor and a strong sense in me. Some scents are comforting - like the smell of certain foods i associate with home. Some scents are scary - usually those that trigger some bad memories in me. Some scents make me feel ill - usually related to certain chemicals. But the overriding thing is i think i walk through this world using my nose more so than anything else. I forget faces, names, even the sounds of voices, but i can identify who is nearby by what I can smell.
Funny story - i was in a relationship. Happy, enjoying myself, and then suddenly something changed. I couldn't put my finger on what but i wasn't as insta-attracted as i was at first. Almost a year later i found out why. He had stopped wearing deoderant. Apparently, the scent i had associated with this person was yet another mass produced product - to which i am slightly disappointed in myself for always finding myself attracted to the way certain products smell on certain people as opposed to how they themselves smell but.... I was surprised by how something as simple as that started the chain in changing how i saw, reacted to and related to someone. Its one of the many things that leads me to think that losing my sense of smell would, for me, be more catastrophic than losing my sense of sight or hearing. I do enjoy my sense of touch though, and taste is closely linked to scent so.....i would like to keep those two.
I know for me, in relationships, i am frequently attracted to the same type of presence. Someone who can make me feel small, fragile, someone i get this sense that i can depend on. In some senses, I am looking for my Edward - looking for someone to protect me, to take care of me and to fawn over me.
One of the blogs i read was talking about this recently - and remembering their Edward. I haven't been so lucky. I dont have just one "edward" to remember. I have a few. I remember the girl with spikes who taught me how to defend myself, and called me "little amanda" and made comments about my appearance that just enforced those feelings that make us feel (and i hate to describe it as such because my inner feminist is crying very hard) girly. I remember the big strong boys who could lift me up and make it seem effortless - even as i screamed - who made me feel that no matter how strong i was, if i wasn't strong enough, there was someone there who was. There have been a few of those - and I am attracted to them for their sheer strength and ability to phsyically hurt me, even while they are all big teddy bears and afraid to use their strength near anyone.
I have been lucky enough to have a few "edward's" in my time. and unlucky enough, or perharps not smart enough to both have let them go and to have chased them away. I want to feel strong on my own, independant, i-am-woman-hear-me-roar. Having these people in my life, i don't feel that way and my inner feminist gets upset and bitchy. Because, while my inner girly-girl is rejoicing, it often feels only one side can come out to play.
I want to be both, strong and taken care of. Butch and femme. Girl and feminist. And to be with someone, gender irregardless, where i can feel both. Because i knw that kind of balance doesnt happen to often in real life, i seek it in a less than orthodox way - to have one on each arm, and edward and someone for whom i am their edward.
Life doesnt work that way.
In other news, I am in the process of doing what they call a "hard reset" to my sleeping patterns and insomnia tendencys. It involved only allowing myself just over 6 hours in bed a night. Regrdless of how much i sleep. Which supposedly after a certain point of exhaustion, my brain will learn it is to go to sleep and stay asleep when it is given the chance and to make good use of its time. It hasn't learned this lesson yet which means in reality i am getting next to no sleep at the moment. I hope this works, but until it does i am tired, cranky, likely to cry to easily (as if i dont already) and if i hit a certain point of exhaustion, i might become violent in the i would like to kill someone way. The hard part of course being deciding on a target (just joking).
But having 18 hours a day means having to fill 18 hours a day - and realizing all my hobbies and activities dont stretch that far or that i am not sure if i want them to go that far.
The hard part for me when it comes to sleep is the dreams. I have weird, strange and disturbing dreams, often violent ones or night mares. Because of them i wake up scared, anxious, and can quickly go into a panic attack after waking. It hasn't happened recently (the panic) but the dreams are a far too frequent occurance.
As of late, the dreams have been a strange mixture of pleasure and horror, and i am not a fan of what i have been dreaming of.
I had a dream that my younger sister gave me $5 to help her commit suicide. By smothering her with a pillow in my mother's bed. Which we were both sleeping in. And, i agreed to the plan. But she kept cheating and taking breaths, which meant i couldn't actually smother her. She said it was ok, and we would try again later, but she was tired. She went to sleep, and i started having sex, in the bed, with a male. No orgasm (this is a common theme in my dreams, is that there is never a dream, or real, orgasm. Which makes me frustrated when i wake up LOL). When my sister woke up (sending the male scrambling out of the room), she was upset to still be alive, and therefore told my mother on me for trying to kill her. This got me kicked out of the bed, so i charged my sister the $5 ...and yea i know the dream is weird.
I had another dream that there was mushrooms growing in my nose.
I had a dream where i was coughing up blood, and despite 2 trips to the ER, was told this was normal and i should go home and stop bothering people - even thought i knew this meant my lungs were liquifying inside of me and this was a dangerous and bad thing to have happen. I was going to go abck to the ER a third time (as the coughing and the blood was getting worse) but before i went, knowing i would be hospitalized if they finally listened, i wanted to have one last good time. Insert sex here.
My dreams have, of late, been like this - a combo of erotica (which i think boils down to the fact i haven't been laid in a while and am missing out on that human contact. I know you can get that type of physical and mental connection without sexual activity, but it is just easiest, for me, to find it in sex. It is, despite everything, less scary that way - maybe because then the absolute worst thing someone can do to be is to abuse me sexually. And that I have lived through. Because, at least then they cant get at me where i am most vulnerable, in my heart and my thoughts. Its a way to get the connection i am looking for,, but maintain the distance and control that makes me feel safe. I knwo this is not the healthiest way to handle things but right now, it is how i function. I am working on changing this and recognizing it is the first step.
The dreams have been erotica and horror. The horror is typical for me. The combo is the part i am having trouble handling - it is hard to wake up from a dream and not know if you are breathing fast because panic is coming soon, or because you are aroused.
It confuses me and it makes me anxious because i just dont know. And so i want to go back to these at least being separate dream topics. Things are easier to handle when they are separate and maintian their little spaces in life.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
sounds
Part of me wants to respond to things i have read in other peoples blogs. To comfort, to use this space for other people and I am working hard to remind myself, that first and foremost, this space is for me. That I am asking teh world to make a few inches for me and that this is the space that i want to claim as my own. I am reminding myself there are so many other spaces - email, twitter, msn, phone, that i can use to be there for other people, to be that person people can rely on. I am trying to remind myself that i get to be important too - and its hard because my habit is to put other people first, and sometimes, that can be damaging to me. I need to remember that in order to take care of people and to be of help, i have to be enough to be ok for me first - that if i am not that, i will drop the ball when it is most important.
I am sensative to sounds - i always have been. This morning, 5 am, i was awake, but in that relazed state when you aren't fully in the world and are partly in your own head. That slow wake up place that is almost like meditation. Mom walked by my room, to go sleep on the couch for a bit. As she walked by she said "i cant get any sleep", quietly, to herself. I had earplugs in but i heard "its almost a quarter to 8"...and i panicked thinking i was late to work.
Simple sounds - a beep, ding, or tone from the tv or horn, honking in the street - cause my anxiety to spike to near panic attack levels. I can usually get it under control pretty fast by identifying the sound and reminding myself there is no threat to me from a commercial or stupid driver out on the street. But the simple fact is this is something that happens to me, on a daily basis, every day, from morning to night and even in my sleep.
Part of why i dont sleep is because of this reaction i have to simple every day sounds - i wake up from a sleep, panicked because mom coughed or the students MSN beeped, or the heater turned on.
Its not something i know how to control or fix - not something i understand truely why i am like this. I think it relates to an overall feeling of safety - to always being on alert because i always feel as if there is something bad or dangerous that could be headed my way. It may be a leftover from the abuse - that i am still expecting people to come at me with some type of abuse, something i can be overpowered with, some pill or new torture.
I was thinking while i was driving the bus today. I look back at some of the things i experienced - things that didn't happen to me but rather that i just watched. Being 9 and the one at the scene of an emergency (unconscious person, surrounded by adults, waiting for an ambulance on an island) and being the one in charge of the scene - the one giving teh instructions, providing care, and being the one with the most knowledge about what needed to be done. And in situations like, in watching my sister in the hospital, in knowing things were wrong with the people i cared about - not once did someone ever tell me that it was going to be ok. That things were going to be fine.
I was a kid. I was afraid. I have the normal fears and anxieties that little kids have. But i was gifted and I was well read and i could speak and understand at a level closer to an adult. So no one ever thought that i would need the reassurance you would give a child. Because i think at times, they would forget that i was a child.
When i shattered my finger, the dr talked to me like any normal patient - telling me about bone spurrs, subcuteaneous pressure, fractures, pain control, temperature sensativity. Because these were things that second grade me could understand. But no one told me it was going to heal and be ok.
No one told me it was ok to hurt, to be scared, to be a child. Just because i could read medical text before i was 10 never meant that i had the feelings of an adult. I didn't.
It seems that was forgotten. Now as an adult, these are things i am stil trying to learn. Its much harder now. The world is bigger, scarier, and sometimes things aren't going to be ok. And sometimes the simple words you would give a child are hard to give someone you see as an adult.
I wish i knew these things back then.
I am sensative to sounds - i always have been. This morning, 5 am, i was awake, but in that relazed state when you aren't fully in the world and are partly in your own head. That slow wake up place that is almost like meditation. Mom walked by my room, to go sleep on the couch for a bit. As she walked by she said "i cant get any sleep", quietly, to herself. I had earplugs in but i heard "its almost a quarter to 8"...and i panicked thinking i was late to work.
Simple sounds - a beep, ding, or tone from the tv or horn, honking in the street - cause my anxiety to spike to near panic attack levels. I can usually get it under control pretty fast by identifying the sound and reminding myself there is no threat to me from a commercial or stupid driver out on the street. But the simple fact is this is something that happens to me, on a daily basis, every day, from morning to night and even in my sleep.
Part of why i dont sleep is because of this reaction i have to simple every day sounds - i wake up from a sleep, panicked because mom coughed or the students MSN beeped, or the heater turned on.
Its not something i know how to control or fix - not something i understand truely why i am like this. I think it relates to an overall feeling of safety - to always being on alert because i always feel as if there is something bad or dangerous that could be headed my way. It may be a leftover from the abuse - that i am still expecting people to come at me with some type of abuse, something i can be overpowered with, some pill or new torture.
I was thinking while i was driving the bus today. I look back at some of the things i experienced - things that didn't happen to me but rather that i just watched. Being 9 and the one at the scene of an emergency (unconscious person, surrounded by adults, waiting for an ambulance on an island) and being the one in charge of the scene - the one giving teh instructions, providing care, and being the one with the most knowledge about what needed to be done. And in situations like, in watching my sister in the hospital, in knowing things were wrong with the people i cared about - not once did someone ever tell me that it was going to be ok. That things were going to be fine.
I was a kid. I was afraid. I have the normal fears and anxieties that little kids have. But i was gifted and I was well read and i could speak and understand at a level closer to an adult. So no one ever thought that i would need the reassurance you would give a child. Because i think at times, they would forget that i was a child.
When i shattered my finger, the dr talked to me like any normal patient - telling me about bone spurrs, subcuteaneous pressure, fractures, pain control, temperature sensativity. Because these were things that second grade me could understand. But no one told me it was going to heal and be ok.
No one told me it was ok to hurt, to be scared, to be a child. Just because i could read medical text before i was 10 never meant that i had the feelings of an adult. I didn't.
It seems that was forgotten. Now as an adult, these are things i am stil trying to learn. Its much harder now. The world is bigger, scarier, and sometimes things aren't going to be ok. And sometimes the simple words you would give a child are hard to give someone you see as an adult.
I wish i knew these things back then.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
On habits, food, depression, and orgasms (abuse trigger warning)
Today, i had my therapy appointment. With a therapist who isn't my study therapist as he is on vacation but the study I am in requires that i go every 14 days or less...and today was day 13. And i needed more medication anyways, plus the hospital (did i mention i go to therapy at the neuropsyciatry unit at a toronto hospital. Me - who is afraid of being hospitalized and never relased for my mental problems, goes into a hospital psych ward at a major toronto hospital for therapy. And speaks honestly about my anxiety and depression. If this isnt a huge change for me, i dont know what it. And every 2 weeks they let me go again. They let me go home. Because they believe me when i say i am not a harm to myself, and because it is true. And because me, the drs, and the people in my life both near and far can all see that slowly, day by day, i am changing and things are for once getting better. We are going to come back to this later as this is the longest aside ever!)
The therapy always involves going through a depression scale questionaire - to check that the meds are working, for study purposes, and because a side effect of SSRI's is while they are kicking in they can make you extremely suicidial. Luckily i have not had this side effect, in fact the only side effect i have had (which is a minor headache) has been mitigated by the sheer doses of medication i am on (tis hard to have a headache from vascular constriction when on a total of 10 doses of medication designed to cause vascular dilation among other things.
One of the questions in the questionaire has to do with eating sugar and carbs. I LOVE sugar and carbs - anything wheat based i like. bread, pasta, pastry, cakes, you name it i love it. And my usual dr asks me if i eat too much of them stuff, to which, every time i have to answer yes. Yes, i eat too much because this is the majority of my diet, and some days, this is all i eat. I skip eating meat (which i dont really like, because of the texture) and fruits/veg (lack of availability in a cash strapped, living below the poverty line household) and eat just carbs and sugar.
But this new therapist asked the question differently. Not did i eat it but did i crave of need it? And i had to think hard. I remember sitting on the couch at times, even semi-recently, with chipos and cake/ice cream/chocolate. Stuffing my face, alternately sweet and salty. And needing it. I remember spending years thinking something was wrong with me because not only was i incapable of feeling "full" or "hungry" but i could eat an endless amount, and still not feel as if i had eaten anything until i had had a piece of chocolate or cake or something with sugar.
But recently? No - i mean my appetite is decreased, yes, which isnt a bad thing, as i am maintaining my weight loss. But I also dont have nearly the cravings i used to have. I dont "need" the sugar. But i eat it every day, twice a day, anyways. And i realized i was doing this out of habit - i was so used to needing a sweet at certain times of the day that i got into the habit of eating it. And, until today i never noticed that that "need" was gone. And i wonder, if that need is gone, than why dont i jsut skip it. But, out of habit, at certain times, i automatically reach for the cookies, for the candies, for the junk because the habit is so ingrained in me. It makes me wonder what other habits i have gotten into that i could give up, and just havent recognized it.
How many things do i do as a habit and how many of those are negative. Could i give those up, why did i develop them?
I remember starting into disordered eating. I remember flirting with anorexia at times - living off an apple and a diet coke a day. Living off 1/2 of rice cereal at times. Wondering how many meals i can skip and what it would do to me. I remember going through these things - where the only reason i ate the apple was because my girlfriend at the time gave it to me and the gesture behind that meant more to me than not eating. I remember, that for as long as i have known, food was love for me. I remember hiding junk food in my room, in all kinds of places, because it made me feel safe to have that under my bed, in my "secret" drawer, and in my desk. It made me feel ok to know that, when food was abuse for me (for a while, my access to food was strictly controlled, and when one of my abusers - my mother - was in a bad mood, meals could be "cancelled" for days. Not only was she not cooking, but also we were not allowed to eat either. I remember when, because she was upset that i was getting a life outside the house, all i was allowed to eat was one microwave tv dinner a day. I remember being handed $20 a week and knowing that had to covere everything i needed for the week - food, personal supplies, field trips, school things, everything. It never covered everything, even if i only needed food for the week. The average person eats about $50 worth of food in a week. I had $20 so i learned not to eat. I remember after, when her medications were "better" adjusted, and the restrictions became bizarre - not ebing allowed to eat anyhting more "green" than iceburg lettuce, being force fed butter when she thought i would die without it, being made to eat wheat right after i was told it could possibly kill me. I remember these things.)
For the longest time, without out going into the the kitchen, i could tell you at any given moment how much of any particular "treat" - ice cream, cookies, chips, etc - we had in the house, and where it was. I kept track of these things because it made me feel safe - when access to food was controlled, access to junk and other crap food was not only free, but encouraged. So i knew what i needed to, in order to survive.
But right now, I dont know and i am a happier for not caring. Sometimes i even forget that there is cake in the freezer or chocolate in the cupboard because right now, i feel safe enough to forget. To know that if i need something, i can get access to it and that is a good feeling for me.
When i saw the therapist today, she asked how i thought i was doing, depression wise, and i would like to think things are getting better for me. I feel hopeful and i am making plans for the future. Plans to go out and get what i want and even if i feel as is i might not be good enough, I am going to try anyways because, maybe, jsut maybe, i can succeed. But it is never going to happen if i dont try and i am finding that i am willing to try.
I look back at the things i have been through, am going through and the mental spaces i have experienced and where i stand not. I look back at what i think of as being depression and i look back and what i think of as being "remission" from a depression that stretches so far back i clearly remember my first suicide attempt. I was in first grade. I was not yet 7 years old and i was already trying to kill myself over the things i had been through and the experiences i would still rather forget.
I look back at the times when i was less depressed, for truely, there isnt many times that i remember a happiness that was at least tainted by depression in one way or another or a freedon that wasnt shadowed by anxiety. I look at those times and, specifially i look back to the last remission i had (the one that has lasted the longest and was a time of change for me, until, that too failed and i found myself back in the pit that is depression and the rut that is the way that i have always lived my life). And i see an unfortunate influance in it that i wonder why i didnt recognize at the time. I look back at time when i was so happy, i remember at one point crying, just a bit, from how wonderful things were. I look back at a time when i remember sitting, in a room that because familiar to me, and talking about the future and hope and how things were good. I had these conversations and now i look back at them and i wonder because shortly after that i made decisions that, in the end, i think influenced my fall back into depression, and anxiety. I look at when these feelings started to go away and the decisions i made that came right before then and i dont wonder. I am not saying anyone or anything is responsible for me other than myself but i am saying, while hindsight in 20/20, some of the influences in my life that i thought were good at the time were not.
I wanted to say something - to someone that i have hurt. I am sorry for the way i treated you. To the person who was there with me the LAST time in my life that i thought about suicide, to the person who was there with me while i climbed out of that pit and made the decision not only to live, but to stop self injuring and to start on the long journey that has led to me being alive today, I wanted to say, I am sorry, and even more so - thank you. Thank you for being there to talk to me on the nights when i "wanted to do something stupid". Thank you for understand the dark and sometimes difficult world that i was living in. Thank you for being strong enough to kick my ass when i needed it, even when i made it hard for you. Thank you for believe in me, when we we both teens, and from the bottom of my heart, thank you for starting me on the path that has led to today. In some ways, the day you went with me to buy Kali, and new things for my room, you saved my life and helped me to recommit to the idea that i was going to live and that i was, finally, going to give up trying to die. Thank you. Thank you. and, with the biggest hug i can offer, thank you.
Now, onto orgasms, as if this blog hasn`t suddenly, without reason, gotten graphic and intimate enough for one evening.
Oragasms.
Things that can make us cum.
I had a weird dream last night - about someone i had previously been sexually involved with, among other things. In the dream, all i wanted from this person was an orgasm. I didn`t want to have to look at them, talk to them, or even admit we were in teh same room. It stand to reason, given where i am right now in terms of things but it was an odd way of looking back for me - a way of being honest about my past. A way of being honest with what i stuck around for and why.
I enjoy masturbation, and those who know me well enough, know that it is a regular part of my life, and that i think it is healthy and good for you. When i was afraid for people to see me naked - when i insisted on having sex with my partner of the time while i remained half clothed (thank you for putting up with that, i wasnt capable of anything else at the time, and thank you, for putting up with me while i got to a point where i could show you). When i was in this place, in some way, being with myself helped me - it helped me to be naked, to touch what parts of my body i could, because it helped me to connect to the fact that, yes, i had a body and as damaged and as horribly scarred as it was and still is, that was ok. That i could still be interesting, sexually, and worth someones time, despite not being whole.
In all of this, i have learned about myself, and what i enjoy. And what i dont. And sometimes, i am afraid of what i enjoy and i am afraid to admit that i enjoy it or afraid of admitting that i enjoy it. And, because of a history of sexual abuse in my past, being afraid of me and my sexuality is hard for me. Sometimes, i struggle to have a sexuality, i fight so hard to have one and own one and keep one, and so to have that conflicting emotion is a struggle for me.
I had an orgasm today - i am relearning, in a way, some of the parts of masturbation i had forgotten about when i allowed it to become `rote`or routine, like fantasy. I had an orgasm today, and it was intense and amazing and that was good. But, because of what happened in it, i was also ashamed and i was also afraid. I am worried about going back to my bed now, becuase that is where it happened and i am afraid there might be evidence of it and i am afraid someone will see it and either freak out or judge me.
I had an orgasm today and part of me is absolutely thrilled with the experience, and part of me is ashamed of it and that is weird for me.
In sex, we are all interested in different things and while i am ok with that, alot of people aren`t. And that is where i have problems talking about things because, i am afraid of the people who might not be ok with me.
I have interested in some things, sexually, since i remember my first erotic dream while i was still in kindergarden. I have had some experiences in teh area, some good, some bad, and all with some level of anxiety because there is possibly always going to be that fear for me.
How to do it, to be ok with having interests, to not be afraid, to forget the bad? How to get past this hang up that lives in my head to be ok with me.
Part of my journey is in being ok with me, as a whole, not just sexually.
The therapy always involves going through a depression scale questionaire - to check that the meds are working, for study purposes, and because a side effect of SSRI's is while they are kicking in they can make you extremely suicidial. Luckily i have not had this side effect, in fact the only side effect i have had (which is a minor headache) has been mitigated by the sheer doses of medication i am on (tis hard to have a headache from vascular constriction when on a total of 10 doses of medication designed to cause vascular dilation among other things.
One of the questions in the questionaire has to do with eating sugar and carbs. I LOVE sugar and carbs - anything wheat based i like. bread, pasta, pastry, cakes, you name it i love it. And my usual dr asks me if i eat too much of them stuff, to which, every time i have to answer yes. Yes, i eat too much because this is the majority of my diet, and some days, this is all i eat. I skip eating meat (which i dont really like, because of the texture) and fruits/veg (lack of availability in a cash strapped, living below the poverty line household) and eat just carbs and sugar.
But this new therapist asked the question differently. Not did i eat it but did i crave of need it? And i had to think hard. I remember sitting on the couch at times, even semi-recently, with chipos and cake/ice cream/chocolate. Stuffing my face, alternately sweet and salty. And needing it. I remember spending years thinking something was wrong with me because not only was i incapable of feeling "full" or "hungry" but i could eat an endless amount, and still not feel as if i had eaten anything until i had had a piece of chocolate or cake or something with sugar.
But recently? No - i mean my appetite is decreased, yes, which isnt a bad thing, as i am maintaining my weight loss. But I also dont have nearly the cravings i used to have. I dont "need" the sugar. But i eat it every day, twice a day, anyways. And i realized i was doing this out of habit - i was so used to needing a sweet at certain times of the day that i got into the habit of eating it. And, until today i never noticed that that "need" was gone. And i wonder, if that need is gone, than why dont i jsut skip it. But, out of habit, at certain times, i automatically reach for the cookies, for the candies, for the junk because the habit is so ingrained in me. It makes me wonder what other habits i have gotten into that i could give up, and just havent recognized it.
How many things do i do as a habit and how many of those are negative. Could i give those up, why did i develop them?
I remember starting into disordered eating. I remember flirting with anorexia at times - living off an apple and a diet coke a day. Living off 1/2 of rice cereal at times. Wondering how many meals i can skip and what it would do to me. I remember going through these things - where the only reason i ate the apple was because my girlfriend at the time gave it to me and the gesture behind that meant more to me than not eating. I remember, that for as long as i have known, food was love for me. I remember hiding junk food in my room, in all kinds of places, because it made me feel safe to have that under my bed, in my "secret" drawer, and in my desk. It made me feel ok to know that, when food was abuse for me (for a while, my access to food was strictly controlled, and when one of my abusers - my mother - was in a bad mood, meals could be "cancelled" for days. Not only was she not cooking, but also we were not allowed to eat either. I remember when, because she was upset that i was getting a life outside the house, all i was allowed to eat was one microwave tv dinner a day. I remember being handed $20 a week and knowing that had to covere everything i needed for the week - food, personal supplies, field trips, school things, everything. It never covered everything, even if i only needed food for the week. The average person eats about $50 worth of food in a week. I had $20 so i learned not to eat. I remember after, when her medications were "better" adjusted, and the restrictions became bizarre - not ebing allowed to eat anyhting more "green" than iceburg lettuce, being force fed butter when she thought i would die without it, being made to eat wheat right after i was told it could possibly kill me. I remember these things.)
For the longest time, without out going into the the kitchen, i could tell you at any given moment how much of any particular "treat" - ice cream, cookies, chips, etc - we had in the house, and where it was. I kept track of these things because it made me feel safe - when access to food was controlled, access to junk and other crap food was not only free, but encouraged. So i knew what i needed to, in order to survive.
But right now, I dont know and i am a happier for not caring. Sometimes i even forget that there is cake in the freezer or chocolate in the cupboard because right now, i feel safe enough to forget. To know that if i need something, i can get access to it and that is a good feeling for me.
When i saw the therapist today, she asked how i thought i was doing, depression wise, and i would like to think things are getting better for me. I feel hopeful and i am making plans for the future. Plans to go out and get what i want and even if i feel as is i might not be good enough, I am going to try anyways because, maybe, jsut maybe, i can succeed. But it is never going to happen if i dont try and i am finding that i am willing to try.
I look back at the things i have been through, am going through and the mental spaces i have experienced and where i stand not. I look back at what i think of as being depression and i look back and what i think of as being "remission" from a depression that stretches so far back i clearly remember my first suicide attempt. I was in first grade. I was not yet 7 years old and i was already trying to kill myself over the things i had been through and the experiences i would still rather forget.
I look back at the times when i was less depressed, for truely, there isnt many times that i remember a happiness that was at least tainted by depression in one way or another or a freedon that wasnt shadowed by anxiety. I look at those times and, specifially i look back to the last remission i had (the one that has lasted the longest and was a time of change for me, until, that too failed and i found myself back in the pit that is depression and the rut that is the way that i have always lived my life). And i see an unfortunate influance in it that i wonder why i didnt recognize at the time. I look back at time when i was so happy, i remember at one point crying, just a bit, from how wonderful things were. I look back at a time when i remember sitting, in a room that because familiar to me, and talking about the future and hope and how things were good. I had these conversations and now i look back at them and i wonder because shortly after that i made decisions that, in the end, i think influenced my fall back into depression, and anxiety. I look at when these feelings started to go away and the decisions i made that came right before then and i dont wonder. I am not saying anyone or anything is responsible for me other than myself but i am saying, while hindsight in 20/20, some of the influences in my life that i thought were good at the time were not.
I wanted to say something - to someone that i have hurt. I am sorry for the way i treated you. To the person who was there with me the LAST time in my life that i thought about suicide, to the person who was there with me while i climbed out of that pit and made the decision not only to live, but to stop self injuring and to start on the long journey that has led to me being alive today, I wanted to say, I am sorry, and even more so - thank you. Thank you for being there to talk to me on the nights when i "wanted to do something stupid". Thank you for understand the dark and sometimes difficult world that i was living in. Thank you for being strong enough to kick my ass when i needed it, even when i made it hard for you. Thank you for believe in me, when we we both teens, and from the bottom of my heart, thank you for starting me on the path that has led to today. In some ways, the day you went with me to buy Kali, and new things for my room, you saved my life and helped me to recommit to the idea that i was going to live and that i was, finally, going to give up trying to die. Thank you. Thank you. and, with the biggest hug i can offer, thank you.
Now, onto orgasms, as if this blog hasn`t suddenly, without reason, gotten graphic and intimate enough for one evening.
Oragasms.
Things that can make us cum.
I had a weird dream last night - about someone i had previously been sexually involved with, among other things. In the dream, all i wanted from this person was an orgasm. I didn`t want to have to look at them, talk to them, or even admit we were in teh same room. It stand to reason, given where i am right now in terms of things but it was an odd way of looking back for me - a way of being honest about my past. A way of being honest with what i stuck around for and why.
I enjoy masturbation, and those who know me well enough, know that it is a regular part of my life, and that i think it is healthy and good for you. When i was afraid for people to see me naked - when i insisted on having sex with my partner of the time while i remained half clothed (thank you for putting up with that, i wasnt capable of anything else at the time, and thank you, for putting up with me while i got to a point where i could show you). When i was in this place, in some way, being with myself helped me - it helped me to be naked, to touch what parts of my body i could, because it helped me to connect to the fact that, yes, i had a body and as damaged and as horribly scarred as it was and still is, that was ok. That i could still be interesting, sexually, and worth someones time, despite not being whole.
In all of this, i have learned about myself, and what i enjoy. And what i dont. And sometimes, i am afraid of what i enjoy and i am afraid to admit that i enjoy it or afraid of admitting that i enjoy it. And, because of a history of sexual abuse in my past, being afraid of me and my sexuality is hard for me. Sometimes, i struggle to have a sexuality, i fight so hard to have one and own one and keep one, and so to have that conflicting emotion is a struggle for me.
I had an orgasm today - i am relearning, in a way, some of the parts of masturbation i had forgotten about when i allowed it to become `rote`or routine, like fantasy. I had an orgasm today, and it was intense and amazing and that was good. But, because of what happened in it, i was also ashamed and i was also afraid. I am worried about going back to my bed now, becuase that is where it happened and i am afraid there might be evidence of it and i am afraid someone will see it and either freak out or judge me.
I had an orgasm today and part of me is absolutely thrilled with the experience, and part of me is ashamed of it and that is weird for me.
In sex, we are all interested in different things and while i am ok with that, alot of people aren`t. And that is where i have problems talking about things because, i am afraid of the people who might not be ok with me.
I have interested in some things, sexually, since i remember my first erotic dream while i was still in kindergarden. I have had some experiences in teh area, some good, some bad, and all with some level of anxiety because there is possibly always going to be that fear for me.
How to do it, to be ok with having interests, to not be afraid, to forget the bad? How to get past this hang up that lives in my head to be ok with me.
Part of my journey is in being ok with me, as a whole, not just sexually.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Crafting as the cure
I have a post, still brewing in my head, but i think i am afraid to put it out to the world because it starts to get into the intense stuff. I think I am afraid in some ways to speak out about the abuses i went through and how they affect me now, and what they mean to me. I think I am afraid to actually let people know because part of me is still trying to protect my abusers. I think because I have done whatever i can towards forgiving them, as much as a person can, that i am afraid to drag it all out into the open and have it go badly. I am afraid someone will confront me about it, force me to do something, or even worse, because its only my word against theirs, that they will tell me i made it all up.
I went to the GP's on friday, as the post h1n1 death cough started to get worse, again, and the fever started to come back. It turns out the respiratory infection never cleared, and had caused swelling and other icky things. So one stronger, longer antibiotic later you would think would be the cure? Wrong. I also needed steroids and cortosone for the nasal passages (for the swelling and irritation), plus apparently the whole thing had agrivated my asthma and i would have to take puffers.
Wait, what asthma? I apparently have that. The cold chest feeling that happens when i run is apparently asthma. Its weird, I had wondered, vaguely, if that was normal but it hasnt killed me yet and other than making me not like running, it hasnt hugely impacted my life. I thought i was just fat and out of shape, and that was why running sucked. But, lots of medication later, running is better than i thought it was. I dont know how i feel about upping my "lifetime" meds to 4 now but...i guess it is what it is. Its weird to think about having to bring this drug with me everywhere though, even if i can see it helping. Its weird to watch a dr write out a prescription for HUNDREDS of doses of medication, because he is sure you are going to need them. To currently be on a total of 10 doses of steroids a day (though that will go down as the death cough goes away).
OK, so now to what i meant to talk about.
I craft. I knit, i latch hook, i cross stitch and as of yesterday I have started a new kinda cool craft (to be revealed later if it actually turns out as it is a secret surprise gift). I craft because it helps me. I craft because it lets me think, without obsession. I craft because it keeps my hands busy and when my hands are busy, they are not being destruction, they are not hurting. I craft because i think it helps to keep me sane, because it helps to keep me from worrying, sometimes, and i craft because in the end it gives me a sense of accomplishment.
I made a huge, beautiful cross stitch of wolves howling at the moon and every time i look at it, i think - there are days, etched in the threads, where i gave myself permission to stop for a bit and take some time for me. In the little x's are my choice to craft away my anxiety, my depression, my problems, instead of crying them away, instead of cutting them away.
I knit, and in everything, everytime i finish something - if it is good or bad it doesn't matter, is a sense of accomplishment. Is a sense of now matter if i am feeling worthy or like a failure that day, I can do this. I can make yarn and string into something, hopefully usable. I give away alot of what i finish and in doing so, i like to think i am adding something good to the world. That with my yarn and needles i can show people that i care for them even when my words dont work. That in giving away my time i can heal some of the hurt i cause in this world.
I like to encourage people to craft, no matter what it is that they choose to do. I think that taking the time and effort to make something with your own hands, to invest in something and to see it finished, is good for the soul. I think it undoes some of the damage that our modern world does. The internet is fast, and the tv is mindless and videogames are violent or repetative, and in the end it all creates a dependance and even a sense of anxiety and mindlessness. I like to think taking the time to do something with ones hands - something that takes thought and takes effort and even creativity, helps to bring us back to a sense of reality that doesnt flash, beep, or require the endless pushing of buttons. And maybe it is one more thing to hold onto in this world.
I craft because i think it helps me. I craft because i see it as being a part of the cure to all of the things that happen in life. I craft because i enjoy it and because it makes me feel good.
What do you do when the world gets to be too much?
I went to the GP's on friday, as the post h1n1 death cough started to get worse, again, and the fever started to come back. It turns out the respiratory infection never cleared, and had caused swelling and other icky things. So one stronger, longer antibiotic later you would think would be the cure? Wrong. I also needed steroids and cortosone for the nasal passages (for the swelling and irritation), plus apparently the whole thing had agrivated my asthma and i would have to take puffers.
Wait, what asthma? I apparently have that. The cold chest feeling that happens when i run is apparently asthma. Its weird, I had wondered, vaguely, if that was normal but it hasnt killed me yet and other than making me not like running, it hasnt hugely impacted my life. I thought i was just fat and out of shape, and that was why running sucked. But, lots of medication later, running is better than i thought it was. I dont know how i feel about upping my "lifetime" meds to 4 now but...i guess it is what it is. Its weird to think about having to bring this drug with me everywhere though, even if i can see it helping. Its weird to watch a dr write out a prescription for HUNDREDS of doses of medication, because he is sure you are going to need them. To currently be on a total of 10 doses of steroids a day (though that will go down as the death cough goes away).
OK, so now to what i meant to talk about.
I craft. I knit, i latch hook, i cross stitch and as of yesterday I have started a new kinda cool craft (to be revealed later if it actually turns out as it is a secret surprise gift). I craft because it helps me. I craft because it lets me think, without obsession. I craft because it keeps my hands busy and when my hands are busy, they are not being destruction, they are not hurting. I craft because i think it helps to keep me sane, because it helps to keep me from worrying, sometimes, and i craft because in the end it gives me a sense of accomplishment.
I made a huge, beautiful cross stitch of wolves howling at the moon and every time i look at it, i think - there are days, etched in the threads, where i gave myself permission to stop for a bit and take some time for me. In the little x's are my choice to craft away my anxiety, my depression, my problems, instead of crying them away, instead of cutting them away.
I knit, and in everything, everytime i finish something - if it is good or bad it doesn't matter, is a sense of accomplishment. Is a sense of now matter if i am feeling worthy or like a failure that day, I can do this. I can make yarn and string into something, hopefully usable. I give away alot of what i finish and in doing so, i like to think i am adding something good to the world. That with my yarn and needles i can show people that i care for them even when my words dont work. That in giving away my time i can heal some of the hurt i cause in this world.
I like to encourage people to craft, no matter what it is that they choose to do. I think that taking the time and effort to make something with your own hands, to invest in something and to see it finished, is good for the soul. I think it undoes some of the damage that our modern world does. The internet is fast, and the tv is mindless and videogames are violent or repetative, and in the end it all creates a dependance and even a sense of anxiety and mindlessness. I like to think taking the time to do something with ones hands - something that takes thought and takes effort and even creativity, helps to bring us back to a sense of reality that doesnt flash, beep, or require the endless pushing of buttons. And maybe it is one more thing to hold onto in this world.
I craft because i think it helps me. I craft because i see it as being a part of the cure to all of the things that happen in life. I craft because i enjoy it and because it makes me feel good.
What do you do when the world gets to be too much?
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The One Percent Challenge
In every day there are 24 hours. Each hour, 60 minutes. 1440 Minutes a day that each and every one of us are gifted with. Every day.
One percent of that time is just 14.4 minutes. The average tv program takes up 2-4 % of a day. Thats amazing.
I'm going to challenge myself to dedicate just 1% of my day to me. 1% of my day to something that is good for me. I am going to start with a big challenge. Every day, I am going to make *just* over 1% - 15 mins - for my health. Physical and mental. I am going to do something, every day, that benefits me, physically and mentally.
Just 15 mins every day. It seems so doable. Such a small amount and yet, let me put it to you this way. If you donate the equivilant of 1% of your time to charity - even if all you make is minimum wage, you would be giving near to 1000$ in a year.
So what can you do for yourself in 1%? I challenge everyone to join me - lets give ourselves just 1%, 15 mins everyday. If it is for health, fitness, me-time, family time, anything. What can you do with 1%, how much can you accomplish?
I challenge as many people as this can reach - 1%. Are you worth it?
One percent of that time is just 14.4 minutes. The average tv program takes up 2-4 % of a day. Thats amazing.
I'm going to challenge myself to dedicate just 1% of my day to me. 1% of my day to something that is good for me. I am going to start with a big challenge. Every day, I am going to make *just* over 1% - 15 mins - for my health. Physical and mental. I am going to do something, every day, that benefits me, physically and mentally.
Just 15 mins every day. It seems so doable. Such a small amount and yet, let me put it to you this way. If you donate the equivilant of 1% of your time to charity - even if all you make is minimum wage, you would be giving near to 1000$ in a year.
So what can you do for yourself in 1%? I challenge everyone to join me - lets give ourselves just 1%, 15 mins everyday. If it is for health, fitness, me-time, family time, anything. What can you do with 1%, how much can you accomplish?
I challenge as many people as this can reach - 1%. Are you worth it?
Thursday, November 5, 2009
The power of Puppy love, letting go, and singing out loud
I have this habit. Before i go to sleep, i write imaginary journal or blog posts. It helps me work through things, to start thinking it through and to go through this...process of dealing with things in a way i can handle. I do it at other times of the day as well, but then, if it gets to intense, there are things i can to do distract myself or to stop the process. At night though, i can't. When the lights go out is when i start to go through this and while it interferes with sleep, i think it also is good for me.
But, in going through this, i take myself through alot of emotions - angert, hurt, fear, and a number of other emotions, mostly negative because this is the time i use to deal with things i have been through that i am unable to process the rest of the time. The things i avoid, the things i am afraid of, the bad things.
I think Mocha knows this though. I have been in the habit of going out to the couch for an hour or two when this starts. For some reason i am more in control there, and i feel safer. For some reason, this helps me to eventually be able to sleep, as opposed to going through this until the alarm rings.
Mocha comes with me and, as soon as i start doing this, she jumps up and curls herself into my chest. It helps. It helps to ground me and to make me feel safe and loved. It helps me to go through this with her in my arms, pushed against me. It is as if she knows that i need that contact, as if she understands and is taking part of it on for me and as if she wants to help. And it helps in ways that i cant explain or describe except to say, it is healing me. Or helping me to heal myself.
I believe in some strange or different things in the universe. I believe in the power of energy and in the elemental good or bad nature of it - that there is such a thing as positive and negative energy and that we emit it and, that in the end, when life ends, we will be judged based on our energy. And that there are paths to be travelled, in both a positive and negative way, and that, while neither is wrong, they do lead in different directions. I believe that the energy has colours, and that leads the way on the path. I believe that we are in this earth, in the form that we exist in, because there is some elemental lesson we need to learn. And that, until we learn this, we are doomed to repeat this life again and again, in human form. Until we learn our lesson, we cannot move on to whatever is next, and that whatever is next has more lessons, until we reach a final end.
I dont know what my lesson here is but...i am trying, whatever it is. But i am afraid of experiencing negative, or what i percieve to be negative energy. I am afraid to let myself hurt, cry, or be angry. I am afraid to not be happy, even as i dont know how to be happy and even as i am afraid that if i allow myself to be happy, that it would be a bad thing. It is like hope, when you allow yourself to hope, if it, whatever it might be, doesnt happen, it is harder than if you never allowed yourself to hope at all.
I am trying to let my energy out - i am trying to give whatever is in me to the universe. To let it out into the big open space that is our planet, and to let it dissipate and go away. Outside of me, whatever it is that i am experiencing seems smaller, and more manageable and it seems to just float away, almost as if on the wind. I am trying to let the energy out and trust, that even though it feels big and overwhelming inside of me, that the universe, as vast as it is, can handle it. That the universe, and i mean the space - not the people, can handle more than i can without everything that is the basis of this planet going out of whack. That me being angry or upset will not, in the end, be the butterfly flapping its winds in china. That the world is stronger than that. I am trying.
I have been singing out loud in the car again. I have an MP3 player/broadcaster that allows me to listen to a constant stream of music, no commercials or talking heads, that fits the mood i am in. The music on there covers every mood i am likely to experience, from angry to in love. I didn't notice that i had stopped singing though, until i started again. I sing when i am happy and i am happy when i sing. The two go hand in hand for me and maybe, i need to watch for when i stop singing because it means i am not happy. That something is distracting me from feeling free enough to sing.
I have a bad voice, i admit it. Its just this side of horrific. But someone once told me that even so they loved to hear me sing because they could hear my heart and feelings in the song. And it is true, when i sing, i sing my emotions. Its why my music is so varied because, even though part of me is hurting, i can sing the songs of pain and that can make me...happy enough to do so. I dont have the words to explain it but it as if i can sing the emotions out of me and in doing so, it lightens me.
Yesterday, a day of anxiety over something small and trivial (how i would be received at knit night - i spent so much time before i went working out how to justify myself for decisions i had made. Expecting certain people to be so...defensive over something that truely was not their business as to require me to justify why i chose to cut him out of my life. I expected problems where there, in the end, were none) - yesterday, a woman i know commented how i seemed much happier now than i was the last time i saw her. And even though i was stressed and anxious and even though a part of me is still reeling from the talk with the dermatologist, she was right. I am happier.
According to my last assesment by the therapist, the depression is starting to improve. It was the same thing i told him, but in going through the questions and the symptoms, it was confirmed. For whatever reasons - be it the study drugs, or be it the changes i am working on making I am happier.
In other fun news, i am also lighter. A total of 15 lbs, for which i was surprised. I am halfway to my goal weight, all through changes that life made for me. I got ill, so i ate less. This means i feel full sooner and I am giving myself permission to leave food on my plate. To not eat until I feel sick to my stomach, then to not take medication to allow me to continue to eat. I am allowing myself to be pickier and i am allowing myself to listen to my body and to assume that perhaps, it knows something i do not.
I am only hoping this is the better path than what i was doing before. Once before i let myself say "no, i am full" and "no, eating this is making me feel ill" and at that time, i lost so much weight as to become unhealthy - more so than being overweight is for me. I am hoping not to go down that path. I am hoping, this time my body is ready for this, and i am hoping mentally i am as well.
Wish me luck.
But, in going through this, i take myself through alot of emotions - angert, hurt, fear, and a number of other emotions, mostly negative because this is the time i use to deal with things i have been through that i am unable to process the rest of the time. The things i avoid, the things i am afraid of, the bad things.
I think Mocha knows this though. I have been in the habit of going out to the couch for an hour or two when this starts. For some reason i am more in control there, and i feel safer. For some reason, this helps me to eventually be able to sleep, as opposed to going through this until the alarm rings.
Mocha comes with me and, as soon as i start doing this, she jumps up and curls herself into my chest. It helps. It helps to ground me and to make me feel safe and loved. It helps me to go through this with her in my arms, pushed against me. It is as if she knows that i need that contact, as if she understands and is taking part of it on for me and as if she wants to help. And it helps in ways that i cant explain or describe except to say, it is healing me. Or helping me to heal myself.
I believe in some strange or different things in the universe. I believe in the power of energy and in the elemental good or bad nature of it - that there is such a thing as positive and negative energy and that we emit it and, that in the end, when life ends, we will be judged based on our energy. And that there are paths to be travelled, in both a positive and negative way, and that, while neither is wrong, they do lead in different directions. I believe that the energy has colours, and that leads the way on the path. I believe that we are in this earth, in the form that we exist in, because there is some elemental lesson we need to learn. And that, until we learn this, we are doomed to repeat this life again and again, in human form. Until we learn our lesson, we cannot move on to whatever is next, and that whatever is next has more lessons, until we reach a final end.
I dont know what my lesson here is but...i am trying, whatever it is. But i am afraid of experiencing negative, or what i percieve to be negative energy. I am afraid to let myself hurt, cry, or be angry. I am afraid to not be happy, even as i dont know how to be happy and even as i am afraid that if i allow myself to be happy, that it would be a bad thing. It is like hope, when you allow yourself to hope, if it, whatever it might be, doesnt happen, it is harder than if you never allowed yourself to hope at all.
I am trying to let my energy out - i am trying to give whatever is in me to the universe. To let it out into the big open space that is our planet, and to let it dissipate and go away. Outside of me, whatever it is that i am experiencing seems smaller, and more manageable and it seems to just float away, almost as if on the wind. I am trying to let the energy out and trust, that even though it feels big and overwhelming inside of me, that the universe, as vast as it is, can handle it. That the universe, and i mean the space - not the people, can handle more than i can without everything that is the basis of this planet going out of whack. That me being angry or upset will not, in the end, be the butterfly flapping its winds in china. That the world is stronger than that. I am trying.
I have been singing out loud in the car again. I have an MP3 player/broadcaster that allows me to listen to a constant stream of music, no commercials or talking heads, that fits the mood i am in. The music on there covers every mood i am likely to experience, from angry to in love. I didn't notice that i had stopped singing though, until i started again. I sing when i am happy and i am happy when i sing. The two go hand in hand for me and maybe, i need to watch for when i stop singing because it means i am not happy. That something is distracting me from feeling free enough to sing.
I have a bad voice, i admit it. Its just this side of horrific. But someone once told me that even so they loved to hear me sing because they could hear my heart and feelings in the song. And it is true, when i sing, i sing my emotions. Its why my music is so varied because, even though part of me is hurting, i can sing the songs of pain and that can make me...happy enough to do so. I dont have the words to explain it but it as if i can sing the emotions out of me and in doing so, it lightens me.
Yesterday, a day of anxiety over something small and trivial (how i would be received at knit night - i spent so much time before i went working out how to justify myself for decisions i had made. Expecting certain people to be so...defensive over something that truely was not their business as to require me to justify why i chose to cut him out of my life. I expected problems where there, in the end, were none) - yesterday, a woman i know commented how i seemed much happier now than i was the last time i saw her. And even though i was stressed and anxious and even though a part of me is still reeling from the talk with the dermatologist, she was right. I am happier.
According to my last assesment by the therapist, the depression is starting to improve. It was the same thing i told him, but in going through the questions and the symptoms, it was confirmed. For whatever reasons - be it the study drugs, or be it the changes i am working on making I am happier.
In other fun news, i am also lighter. A total of 15 lbs, for which i was surprised. I am halfway to my goal weight, all through changes that life made for me. I got ill, so i ate less. This means i feel full sooner and I am giving myself permission to leave food on my plate. To not eat until I feel sick to my stomach, then to not take medication to allow me to continue to eat. I am allowing myself to be pickier and i am allowing myself to listen to my body and to assume that perhaps, it knows something i do not.
I am only hoping this is the better path than what i was doing before. Once before i let myself say "no, i am full" and "no, eating this is making me feel ill" and at that time, i lost so much weight as to become unhealthy - more so than being overweight is for me. I am hoping not to go down that path. I am hoping, this time my body is ready for this, and i am hoping mentally i am as well.
Wish me luck.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
On learning
Learning is a long process and its one i think i am, in some ways, just starting. And it might be a journey that doesnt have a defined end. And I am ok with that.
I am learning to be bored. It seems strange, because part of me thinks that i am learning to be lazy - to not do something, to put it off, and to be ok with that. Which in some ways goes against who and what i am. I always want to be doing something - never one to just watch tv, i want to craft and read and be active all the day long. I am learning to give up some of that, to enjoy being still and slowly, i would like to think, i am learning to relax. And maybe this is good for me, I am not yet sure. But i hope that it is.
I am learning to let myself take naps. Right now this has good and bad. With recovering from H1N1, i need the extra sleep as my body is still fighting infection and to get back to normal. Health-wise, H1N1 did me no favours and the medications i am on to fix what it has done, are doing me harm. Physically, i am tired because physically, i am weak, and unfortunately, undergoing some further internal damage and bleeding as a result of some of what i went through when i was sick. But I am napping, almost every day, and i am learning to give myself that time, to let go for a bit and let myself go to sleep and to be ok with that. And i think that maybe, this is a lesson i can learn at night as well. Right now, its a lesson i am fighting to capture so i can understand how to sleep when it is time to sleep.
I am learning to not take life as an emergency. When I got the call that the lesion was, in fact, skin cancer, i heard those words, and yes, it was bad. But i also managed to hear that the edges were clear. That i was cured. That, other than monitoring semi-regularily, that things will be ok. That, this crisis might actually be bearable and livable. I am learning.
One day at a time, i am learning.
I am learning that sometimes, you have to be "ok" to feel anxious - that you just have to let it happen because that is your way of saying "this is a struggle for me" or "there is something about this that is uncomfortable". But also, that sometimes, you have to just let those feelings go, to not focus on them, and that, in time, they pass and you can go back to being "ok" or at least, to not being anxious. Learning to let go...but this will take time.
I am learning that sometimes, in life, i will be judged, by friends, bosses, family and the people of the world. And that sometimes i will do well and sometimes i wont and that that to can be ok. I don't have to be prefect so long as i am ok with what i did - so long as i feel ok about who i am. Today I was DRAP'ed (driver review and accident prevention - it happened because i'm new and it happened because of teh accident i had a few weeks ago). A boss rode with me and took notes and judged. And yes, it made me nervous, and yes I still dont like going through things like this but you know what? It wasn't an emergency, and it wasn't the end of the world. I drove the way i think is best, and I did what i could, and in the end, i think it went ok. She said things that were good, and bad, and i will get the formal report after but, if nothing else, i actually felt supported regardng a safety issue i have been making a point of since september. So maybe, good will come of it, and if nothing does, well it is over and it was ok. It was ok to be nervous and it was ok to try my best and if that means i missed something, that is ok as well because, in the end, i felt like i did what was right for me.
Right now, no, i don't feel ok about who i am, but, i am working on that. I am working, fighting, battling, to change that. Inside and out. And I can become someone i will like, and that i will become someone i can accept and that that is not something that has to happen today.
I am trying, on many fronts, and that, for now, is something.
I am learning to be bored. It seems strange, because part of me thinks that i am learning to be lazy - to not do something, to put it off, and to be ok with that. Which in some ways goes against who and what i am. I always want to be doing something - never one to just watch tv, i want to craft and read and be active all the day long. I am learning to give up some of that, to enjoy being still and slowly, i would like to think, i am learning to relax. And maybe this is good for me, I am not yet sure. But i hope that it is.
I am learning to let myself take naps. Right now this has good and bad. With recovering from H1N1, i need the extra sleep as my body is still fighting infection and to get back to normal. Health-wise, H1N1 did me no favours and the medications i am on to fix what it has done, are doing me harm. Physically, i am tired because physically, i am weak, and unfortunately, undergoing some further internal damage and bleeding as a result of some of what i went through when i was sick. But I am napping, almost every day, and i am learning to give myself that time, to let go for a bit and let myself go to sleep and to be ok with that. And i think that maybe, this is a lesson i can learn at night as well. Right now, its a lesson i am fighting to capture so i can understand how to sleep when it is time to sleep.
I am learning to not take life as an emergency. When I got the call that the lesion was, in fact, skin cancer, i heard those words, and yes, it was bad. But i also managed to hear that the edges were clear. That i was cured. That, other than monitoring semi-regularily, that things will be ok. That, this crisis might actually be bearable and livable. I am learning.
One day at a time, i am learning.
I am learning that sometimes, you have to be "ok" to feel anxious - that you just have to let it happen because that is your way of saying "this is a struggle for me" or "there is something about this that is uncomfortable". But also, that sometimes, you have to just let those feelings go, to not focus on them, and that, in time, they pass and you can go back to being "ok" or at least, to not being anxious. Learning to let go...but this will take time.
I am learning that sometimes, in life, i will be judged, by friends, bosses, family and the people of the world. And that sometimes i will do well and sometimes i wont and that that to can be ok. I don't have to be prefect so long as i am ok with what i did - so long as i feel ok about who i am. Today I was DRAP'ed (driver review and accident prevention - it happened because i'm new and it happened because of teh accident i had a few weeks ago). A boss rode with me and took notes and judged. And yes, it made me nervous, and yes I still dont like going through things like this but you know what? It wasn't an emergency, and it wasn't the end of the world. I drove the way i think is best, and I did what i could, and in the end, i think it went ok. She said things that were good, and bad, and i will get the formal report after but, if nothing else, i actually felt supported regardng a safety issue i have been making a point of since september. So maybe, good will come of it, and if nothing does, well it is over and it was ok. It was ok to be nervous and it was ok to try my best and if that means i missed something, that is ok as well because, in the end, i felt like i did what was right for me.
Right now, no, i don't feel ok about who i am, but, i am working on that. I am working, fighting, battling, to change that. Inside and out. And I can become someone i will like, and that i will become someone i can accept and that that is not something that has to happen today.
I am trying, on many fronts, and that, for now, is something.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
A place for me
I want a place to write about my day, my life, my thoughts and just what i feel like writing about and expressing to the world.
I want pictures but to be honest, as much as i love having them and taking them, i find importing them to the actual blog to be difficult and i don't know why or what i am doing right or wrong but it sure is something.
Today, i walked my puppy after dark. It wasn't that late however, my neighbourhood being what it is....well its going downhill pretty fast. Today, while walking my puppy, i saw gang activity. Again. It doesnt make me feel safe to walk alone with a small dog at night because, all it would take is someone in a bad mood or just the wrong day. I hate being afraid to walk outside at 8:30 at night because the neighbourhood is just getting to that point. And i hate looking at the people i pass by and wondering if they are going to follow me.
I'm going through alot of changes in my life right now. Most for the better I think.
I have started new medications and therapy to help with depression, insomnia, and anxiety. So far, things are doing better but i can't guarentee if that is because of the medications or the fact i cut one of my biggest stressors out of my life or both. It is doing better though, more manageable. I feel more in control and that is a bonus and it is helping me.
Financially...I am effed. My current job isn't paying my bills let alone my life. Plus the fact i am supposed to be saving 60-150$/week for europe in 18 months. Which so far hasn't happened, but I am not that far behind as i still have some study money that i can rely on for that. Thank god for study money, for selling my problems out to scientists and researchers for the benefit of everyone. So far, the studies have done me no harm, and the current study is doing me some good. I am hoping to do another study soon, one that will pay for most of Europe, if they open it up soon. I went and talked to Jen about going back to my old job but, at the moment, that isn't possible. I have people in there that are working where they can to change that but....its a waiting game and playing it is hard on me right now. So out i will head to look for other similar work to add to the income and make things a little easier on me right now.
Stock itself does not pay consistantly - in the fact that i dont receive my checks regularily which is making things awkward as well on that front. They also short each and every check by 5-10 hours which is a huge amount. They short me almost an hours pay a day and call it justified with nothing that i can to to change things. It bugs me but i need the job and truely, what can i do about it? I am hoping that any of the many jobs i applied for, and have inteviewed for, might come through but i understand the realities of where i am in life and....well, it needs to change but....change takes time.
I am working on going back to school, with my dream school being in ottawa. I am trying to find out what is the requirements for that and if i can make it in or not but...once again, things are moving slowly on that front as i am waiting for contact from a liason officer. My next step is to call them, but it might be expensive to call that far for that long on mom's current lack of a phone plan at all.
I think that writing will be good for me.
I am also working on the xmas knitting. I am making socks socks and more socks but...i am bored. I learned how to DPN and since then i haven't had much challenge. They move fast but...i dont know, i am just slightly bored. I made a beaded scarf, and that was ok but it also wasn't quite as much of a challenge as i had been hoping for. i dont know if i am in a craft rut or what but something is going on with me, craftually, and i am just loking for the inspiration it will take to fix it or to change something.
Like i said, i am in a place of so much change right now and most of it, i think, is going to be good for me.
Scary, different, but overall....good for me
I want pictures but to be honest, as much as i love having them and taking them, i find importing them to the actual blog to be difficult and i don't know why or what i am doing right or wrong but it sure is something.
Today, i walked my puppy after dark. It wasn't that late however, my neighbourhood being what it is....well its going downhill pretty fast. Today, while walking my puppy, i saw gang activity. Again. It doesnt make me feel safe to walk alone with a small dog at night because, all it would take is someone in a bad mood or just the wrong day. I hate being afraid to walk outside at 8:30 at night because the neighbourhood is just getting to that point. And i hate looking at the people i pass by and wondering if they are going to follow me.
I'm going through alot of changes in my life right now. Most for the better I think.
I have started new medications and therapy to help with depression, insomnia, and anxiety. So far, things are doing better but i can't guarentee if that is because of the medications or the fact i cut one of my biggest stressors out of my life or both. It is doing better though, more manageable. I feel more in control and that is a bonus and it is helping me.
Financially...I am effed. My current job isn't paying my bills let alone my life. Plus the fact i am supposed to be saving 60-150$/week for europe in 18 months. Which so far hasn't happened, but I am not that far behind as i still have some study money that i can rely on for that. Thank god for study money, for selling my problems out to scientists and researchers for the benefit of everyone. So far, the studies have done me no harm, and the current study is doing me some good. I am hoping to do another study soon, one that will pay for most of Europe, if they open it up soon. I went and talked to Jen about going back to my old job but, at the moment, that isn't possible. I have people in there that are working where they can to change that but....its a waiting game and playing it is hard on me right now. So out i will head to look for other similar work to add to the income and make things a little easier on me right now.
Stock itself does not pay consistantly - in the fact that i dont receive my checks regularily which is making things awkward as well on that front. They also short each and every check by 5-10 hours which is a huge amount. They short me almost an hours pay a day and call it justified with nothing that i can to to change things. It bugs me but i need the job and truely, what can i do about it? I am hoping that any of the many jobs i applied for, and have inteviewed for, might come through but i understand the realities of where i am in life and....well, it needs to change but....change takes time.
I am working on going back to school, with my dream school being in ottawa. I am trying to find out what is the requirements for that and if i can make it in or not but...once again, things are moving slowly on that front as i am waiting for contact from a liason officer. My next step is to call them, but it might be expensive to call that far for that long on mom's current lack of a phone plan at all.
I think that writing will be good for me.
I am also working on the xmas knitting. I am making socks socks and more socks but...i am bored. I learned how to DPN and since then i haven't had much challenge. They move fast but...i dont know, i am just slightly bored. I made a beaded scarf, and that was ok but it also wasn't quite as much of a challenge as i had been hoping for. i dont know if i am in a craft rut or what but something is going on with me, craftually, and i am just loking for the inspiration it will take to fix it or to change something.
Like i said, i am in a place of so much change right now and most of it, i think, is going to be good for me.
Scary, different, but overall....good for me
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