I didn't wanna go to the Supercrawl - I was sore and way too anxious to be around all those people. But I forced myself because I guess I felt I would rather be in pain and have anxiety than to sit home like I always do and feel like the world is spinning without me, and I'm watching people live their lives in ways I just cannot.
I love my city and the things I love most about it are things I have difficulty participating in because of my illnesses and social anxiety and that pisses me off so much.
So I went with Brian. There were about 200% more people there than I imagined - it was huge and awesome. I was nervous and overwhelmed but after being there a while, I started to relax and focus more on the art than on how I was feeling and how I might look to everyone else.
And I had a good time and felt the same inspiration I always do when I go to the Art Crawl, except much more so.
I got signed prints of Irving's clothing store on James Street that I cannot find a picture of for some reason, and a larger print of This Aint Hollywood:
We decided to end the evening by stopping at This Aint Hollywood for a drink.
I know how to change my social anxiety and I'm sure that will help, but this seems to be something else as well. I hadn't really thought about it before now, not sure why, maybe I wasn't ready for the truth?
If I get excited about something, I will talk myself out of going for it. There are dozens of reasons I give myself to rationalize not doing something. This is what I've been living like. And now look at my life - I'm not living it. I mean I'm not experiencing and pursuing things and that makes me feel stagnant, useless, and pointless.
But enough about what it has done to me.
I don't want to focus on the problem - the problem has had enough time to thrive. I want a solution.
Last night on Facebook, I saw the Hamilton Conservatory For The Arts was giving classes. I thought about taking the beginners photography class because I've lately discovered taking photos is kind of enjoyable - don't know why I never felt that way before, but anyway... I thought it would be a good thing for me to do to expand my horizons, learn some things, meet some peoples, etc. The place is really close to where I live and the money isn't a problem. Aside from the fact that I don't think I have the right kind of camera, there was nothing stopping me from going for it - except of course, myself.
I didn't know what happened in that moment between enthusiasm and deciding against it, but I believe it kinda went something like this:
Me: ooh exciting! Myself: scary. Me: It's close by! Myself:Still far enough. Me:I can learn a lot and have fun! Myself: You're not a photographer, you have more important things to attend to before you go taking classes on subjects that won't even help your livelihood. Me:This would be really good for my social anxiety exposure therapy. Myself:That's too much to handle right now. Me: I never do anything. Myself:you can't handle it. Me: okay, I guess you're right.
*Sigh*
I've been "disabled" for basically my entire 20's. My issues changed me and the way I live my life tremendously. But unfortunately, I allowed it to define and devour me. Being enveloped in health problems for long periods is a great way to neglect every other thing in life. I wasn't able to do so many things I wanted to do or used to be able to do so I guess somewhere along the way I stopped trying and reinforced the belief that I can't handle things, even though I consciously know/or at least think I can handle many things, I block myself from living the life I want to live.
Sure, I have some challenges that make it hard to do everything I'd like, but that doesn't mean I can't at least do some. I'm afraid of social situations but I can fight through that. I am way too easily overwhelmed... so I don't have to do everything all at once... I am in pain a lot of the time... so take it easy? So why doesn't "myself" understand that?
And I know I have a lot of fear about being really far out of my comfort zone, and imagining that discomfort can be enough to make me do nothing.
How can I change this pattern? (not a rhetorical question).
All my life I've been interested in many things, some of which have become passions of mine. This has made it seem impossible to figure out what it is I'm supposed to be doing with my life as far as purpose and an actual career.
When I was a little girl, I wanted to go to "Universary" and become a teacher. When I got older and discovered I could write as a career and not just as a hobby, that's exactly what I was gonna do.
There have been a lot of hiccups. In my late teens I became severely depressed and it completely stunted me. I went inward and left life behind. It immobilized me mentally and emotionally, and consequently socially and psychologically.
When I started to really pick up the pieces in my early twenties, I had to leave a promising job due to unexplainable physical and mental problems. I was diagnosed by doctors and deemed unable to work.
When one spends several years in stagnation, trying skill-lessly to get better, apart from 'normal' life and 'normal' schedules, it becomes increasingly harder to get your head above water, and keep it there. Life slowly but surely becomes purposeless, unnecessarily hard, and farther and farther out of reach.
It feels like I've been fighting forever and for the better part of those years, not getting very far. I've learned a few lifetimes worth of lessons and gained a lot of skills and wisdom. I just kept chipping away at the big boulder and after a long time, began to see it take some form. For the longest time it just seemed like it wasn't ever going to budge.
But for the past few years, I've been able to see the difference of then and now - how far I've come.
When I was younger I was extremely ambitious and I had goals and dreams, plans for the future. After years of living the kind of life I was living, I slowly stopped dreaming. I didn't even notice it for a while but one day I realized I had no idea what I wanted my life to look like anymore, just that I didn't want it to look like it did.
I still had my many interests and passions, but no direction and no real idea of how to go about getting it. It made me so sad to think I had no goals other than the same few goals I'd had for all these years: basic goals for my health since my health problems had weighed me down so much. You could go through my journals throughout the years and see the same exact themes, year in and year out, struggling with myself against the same obstacles and never seeming to get anywhere. It was really sad.
The good news is that I am mentally out of that place - I am now able to conceive of and institute plans, goals, and purpose in my life and for a while now I've been on a journey of self-discovery to figure out what that means for me.
Most recently in my journey, I came across an apparent stumbling block - the same damn block that has been there my whole adult life when it came down to deciding on a purpose/career: I don't know what I'm meant to do because I'm passionate about many things!
If my only true passion were writing, that would be easy. But that isn't the case. And I struggle with trying to figure out what path to follow. What if I choose the wrong thing and waste too much time before I figure that out? And I know I wouldn't be satisfied with any one thing (yes, I'm difficult). I've been all over the place as far as my pursuits in life go and though I need a direction, I don't wish to ignore my passions as purposes in exchange for just one.
Obviously I've thought of choosing one and doing the other things as side projects. But that hasn't seemed to fit either: the reason I'm so passionate about the things I'm passionate about is because they are all vehicles to the same end, and that end is my purpose.
I've always believed anything is possible and so I haven't given up on figuring this out. I need to figure this out. And then last night I learned a few new words:
Multipotentialism
A term defined in 1972 by R.H. Frederickson for people who, “when provided with appropriate environments, can select and develop a number of competencies to a high level.”
(from puttylike.com)
A multipotentialite is a person who has many different interests and creative pursuits in life.
Multipotentialites have no “one true calling” the way specialists do. Being a multipotentialite is our destiny. We have many paths and we pursue all of them, either sequentially or simultaneously (or both).
Multipotentialites thrive on learning, exploring, and mastering new skills. We are excellent at bringing disparate ideas together in creative ways. This makes us incredible innovators and problem solvers.
When it comes to new interests that emerge, our insatiable curiosity leads us to absorb everything we can get our hands on. As a result, we pick up new skills fast and tend to be a wealth of information.
A polymath (Greek: πολυμαθής, polymathēs, "having learned much") is a person whose expertise spans a significant number of different subject areas. In less formal terms, a polymath (or polymathic person) may simply be someone who is very knowledgeable. Most ancient scientists were polymaths by today's standards.
So I'm not alone. *phew* So now what?
Well now I feel less stressed out about it, for one thing. This is not a bad thing! I've never been comfortable in any box and I don't see how I could ever be happy trying. And why bother if that's not what I'm meant to do?
So what I need to do is figure out how to take my passions and turn them into a career - into something fulfilling, something that aides people in some way, and something that allows me to be financially independent. This is now the journey I'm on. I now feel I have permission not to be pigeonholed into one specific expertise. I just need to figure out what it will look like.
I had an awesome brainstorming session with Brian today - we listed the main things I'm passionate about doing. One thing is for certain, there is a very strong theme that runs throughout all of those things and that is healing... in all aspects. Health and well-being is what I want both for myself and for others. This seems to be the epitome of what I need to offer the world in whatever ways I can.
Brian and I came up with a pretty good idea that I am definitely going to develop though I can't be positive yet if that is the exact direction I'm going. It is very promising though. One sure way I can tell it is right is that it immediately brought up a lot of fears as well as a feeling of a huge weight lifting off my shoulders. We shall see.
But there are some things I have to do before I can get where I want to be - getting over my social anxiety is the most important one and the balls are already rolling on that. That's a huge one. Huge fears and huge discomfort. That will be an interesting journey. But I'm eager to get on with it so I can start doing more with my life.
My next step, aside from the above and doing more research on my possibilities, is formulating plans for my various goals - something I've learned is essential to do if you want to accomplish ANYTHING lol.
I have a lot of work ahead of me - I couldn't be more excited or terrified!
No idea where to start. After fifteen years of not going to the dentist, I finally went yesterday and had two wisdom teeth extracted and some cavities filled. The most dental work I'd ever had done previously was cleanings and one very tiny filling.
Brian brought me there and they gave me a magical liquid, along with some pills, tucked me in under a blanket on the chair, blindfolded me, and before I knew it there were people doing stuff in my mouth. Yes I know that sounds dirty lol. I was asleep for most of it. The only painful parts were the needles in the gums, those were horrible, but didn't last very long so no big deal.
About two hours later, Brian was there and he took me back to his place and took care of me while I slept off the drugs. I just need to make an appointment for a cleaning and I'm good - just gotta remember to floss I guess.
I do not feel less wise without my wisdom teeth, in fact, I feel even wiser ;-)
Last weekend I went to my niece, Amelie's dance recital. She is three and adorable. I've very proud to say she is the best dancer in her class and she absolutely loves the stage because after every group performance she yelled out "my turn!" lol. And during intermission she ran up and gave a little show... and down the alley... and outside afterward... I love it. I'm trying to find a video on the internets but having no luck.
This past Wednesday I had a pap. Over a year ago they found abnormal cells during a pap so naturally they decided to keep an eye on things. Well this time my gynecologist planned on doing a biopsy if any were found. It's always a fun ordeal getting a pap, ya see, because it hurts like a sun of a bitch! When I first started getting them it was not so bad - very uncomfortable but not enough to make me complain. They were smart - they looked at me, saw they needed the SMALLER speculum, and proceeded with things as such. For some reason that changed and it's like they're trying to stab my vagina. I usually leave the office feeling sore, uncomfortable, and kind of abused to tell you the truth. And this time was a gem. He could not FIND my cervix. He searched for like ten minutes with various instruments trying to find it. "It should be there" I told him nervously. It made me scared cause why the hell couldn't he find it? He's a gynecologist!
Then he found it, but apparently couldn't see enough of it. So then he tells me he's going to PULL my cervix out a little bit and so it might sting a bit O_O What? "Shouldn't it... stay where it's supposed to be?" I said, terrified now. The best part is that he doesn't even respond to my concerns, he just proceeds. Thank gods for the nurse, she held my hand, she always tries to distract me from what he's doing and she tries to read my reactions for pain and then asks what kind of pain i'm feeling etc. I think I will send her a card, actually, cause she's the only thing they have their that works, it seems.
And yes, it stung! And I didn't even ask if he put it back lol :-s After all that crap he tells me my cells are normal. *faints*
This past Saturday I attended Amelie's baptism as her Godmother :-D Brian and Drew came along, and Tiffani of course. While I'm not a believer in the religion, I do love Amelie and was happy to be part of it. In fact, it was quite nice and she was of course adorable. First thing she said as we entered the church - "Are we having cake?" :-p
She asked the priest what his white robes meant, she was really well-behaved and participated and I'm pretty sure she had some sort of spiritual experience if I didn't know any better.
At one point, the priest asked that we all renew of baptismal vows. No one there had ever been baptized aside from myself. I found it really hard to repeat the words "I do" in answer to most of the questions being asked because I really really don't believe in those things, but I did what I could because it was for Amelie. The priest dropped his glasses in the bowl of water... that's how it ended hehe.
Then we went back to my mum's place for a while - she wasn't able to make it to the church because it was raining and her wheelchair would have gotten fucked up.
On Sunday, me, Brian, and Drew went to Gage Park. It was a gorgeous day! Brian and I sat under a shady tree on a blanket and ate some lunch, while Drew went back and forth between the water park and the playground. Then around 3:30pm we all went over to where W.A.P. (whip and poi) was starting and spent the rest of the afternoon and good part of the evening with old and new friends.
Drew played with the son of one of our friends while we lazed around. I got to try out poi for the first time ever (finally) and I ended up enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would. I seemed to pick it up quickly enough, I just have some major coordination issues to contend with. It was really cool though. I bough the stuff to make a pair but Brian lost it or something stupid but hopefully for next time.
What's interesting about this weekend, to me, is that Brian and I have been together for a year and a half (on Friday) and we've never had a picture taken of us - not accidentally and not on purpose. It makes sense to me and it's sad but for some reason, this weekend we had two different people take our picture: my mum on Saturday (I hated the photo cause I'm a self-photo nazi) and then Dale on Sunday (which actually produced at the very least one good photo that I will share when I get). We've had major ups and downs during our time together, things have been shaky, I won't lie (anymore), but I took the photo thing as an omen. I hope so anyway.
Anyway, W.A.P. was good cause I really needed the social time and hopefully tomorrow will be good as well at the Hump Day munch. I have a writer's meeting tonight but I feel like fainting so I'm gonna skip it.
What else can I tell you...
I've recently made some big discoveries about my future, about what I want to do with it, mainly. And when I figured this out, it was great and I was very excited, and then it started to sink in: I can't do this because I am too afraid to talk to people, I'm too awkward and shy, too timid and anxious, too insecure because of it and there is no way you can be that way in the profession I want to go in. So this was depressing.
Then I realized two other things: a) I can't do ANYTHING worth doing if I'm this way and b) I'm not fucking shy people, I have social anxiety and THERE IS HELP.
I always thought it was just severe shyness. I didn't even think it was that big of a deal but it just kept getting worse and worse and I didn't even see what it was doing to my life. I kinda feel dumb for not even realizing and I think that's because I can and do socialize, but not without going through cycles of insecurity, anxiety, fear of not being liked, etc etc and then when I AM putting myself out there for fear of being alone forever, I am so anxious that I stumble over my words, feel stupid and think no one actually likes me, they're just being nice. etc etc. etc. It's ridiculous. I just didn't put two and two together. And now it's gone on so long that I don't know how to make much sense of it.
I've been trying to use skills I learned in DBT lately, such as observing how I feel around people and taking notice of the thoughts I'm having and not giving into urges such as asking people if they like me (yes it's that bad).
The fact that I realized I could have a future that isn't just confined to my little apartment studio (though that's good too) is what made me understand one of the major blockages preventing me from moving on with life, what is keeping me held back. Now that I know what's what, I've already started taking steps toward healing. I got a referral to a program, I'm going to be getting another referral to another program, and other than that I can look into support groups, good books, and practicing what skills I do have.
Unfortunately there's a very long waiting list but that is much better than nothing. I admit it makes me sad and frustrated that I have to wait to get going with things but I have to remember there was nothing I could do about it if I didn't even know it was there.
I find it amazing how much we can miss about ourselves because we're right in the middle of it. If only we could step outside ourselves once in while for analysis!
It is day 9, halfway through the second week and all I have written is 844 words. I started writing on day 1 and went into panic mode. This never happened in the last two years I participated, but this year I am suffering especially from depression and high anxiety. Not because of NaNoWriMo, but because of the S.A.D., the medication adjustment a few months ago, and some other things going on in my life (worries and whatnot).
I haven't been able to bring myself to write anymore. The document has sat open on my task bar since November 1st. I just closed it though. Even though I am so behind I still had a faint hope of catching up, which under normal circumstances would be hard but not impossible. But I just found out today that I am probably moving on December 1st.
It bothers me that I wasn't able to accomplish it this year, but I'm going to try to write my ass off in 2012 to make up for it.
'Space Project':
I got really far, actually I only needed to put some art on the wall and it's done. If I can get my camera to work soon I'll post a photo, but I see no point in continuing the project since I'm moving in about three weeks. I will create my space in the new place (along with many other things) and will blog all about it.
I've asked Brian to call me in the morning because a.)It's a hell of a lot nicer to wake up to him saying he loves me than it is to wake up to an alarm clock that makes me want to hide under the covers and b.)I've found it gets me up on a positive note that I carry throughout the day. Today was the first day with him doing that. It worked alright. I'll admit I went back to sleep for twenty minutes and the alarm woke me up the second time, but he asked me to meet him on messenger and I knew if I didn't he'd be calling again so at least I had a reason to get my ass out of bed. I was really nervous that I wouldn't last the day without wanting to crawl back into bed but so far so good.
And my friend Mel is coming over this evening now so I have a reason not to go back to bed as well as a reason to tidy up around here. We'll be doing some readings and whatnot.
But before the tidying up, I decided to set my timer for 15 minutes and work on my space. The good news is that the job is easier than I thought and I worked on it for more like a half and hour cause I was sort of enjoying it. It will take me way less time than I anticipated, which is awesomeness.
The bad news is that I made some messes while working and now I feel like my place is a bit overwhelming to have to tidy up. I overwhelm easily. I think if I set my timer again to 15 minutes like I did with the other project, I'll have an easier time feeling like I can actually tackle the job. Mhmm yep.
The weekend is approaching way too soon... I have socializing planned and I don't feel ready to crawl out from my cave yet. Ah well. Off I go to tidy.
Do you ever get so irritated you feel that way? I sure do. When I'm dealing with stress, especially when I'm out, I sometimes get so irritable I can't stand it. I become hypersensitive to noise and my tolerance for stupidity plummets. The feeling is so severe that I sometimes feel like running and screaming out of whatever room/situation I'm in... or at the very least, saying 'shut the fuck up already!'
I've learned skills to cope with this kind of thing, but when it gets severe like that, it's all I can do to hold on to any semblance of composure, though I'm sure everyone can see the extreme irritability all over my face - I'm a horrible actor.
Tuesdays tend to be the worst days for this as I'm up early and out the door by 9:30am and off to sit for two hours in a room full of other BPD sufferers and have group therapy. I then have lunch in a crowded hospital cafeteria and head to another type of therapy group for another two hours where there are way more people stuffed into a small room. If I'm lucky, I get to call it a day at 3pm, but at least every three weeks I have to go downtown to a pub and run a writer's group meeting (after an already long day) from 6:30pm up to sometimes 11-12. It can be almost impossible some of these days to not go completely insane.
Oh the joys of hypersensitivity...
Thank the gods this Tuesday business isn't permanent O_O
I abhor the way I look in photos. I don't mind photos of myself where I see some semblance of how I appear to myself in the mirror... it's when I have no control of the photo... when someone takes my photo and I see it.... it freaks me out in a severely unhealthy way. Yes, I know this is delusional... the person I see in the mirror is a perception of myself - the photos I like of myself are similar to what I see in the mirror... the photos I hate are probably the ones that actually look like me. Yet, when I see these photos, I am quite literally horrified and sickened. I can't even see beauty in them, I see something disgusting, a blog that takes up entirely too much space. It's kind of like seeing a horribly disfigured monster... no semblance of me in there, at least not the me I know.
Yet, people (so they claim) find me attractive, beautiful even. I don't get it. This is not a pity party, this is me trying to dissect this whole thing and figure out why I have such as drastically different vision of myself on both ends of the spectrum. What I see in the mirror seems to be a more positive projection of who I am, while photos of me seem to be a more negative projection - I have reason to beleive that how I'm seeing myself in these photos is an extreme magnification of what I perceive are my flaws. I'm not saying that the photos don't look true to life, I'm just saying that judging by the intensity of my reaction to seeing them, it would make sense that my brain is playing some tricks on me.
Honestly, I don't think I ever see myself the way others see me in the flesh, and I don't think I ever have. Back when I was thin, I thought I looked/was fat; now that I'm fat, I have no idea how I look because how I see myself in the mirror changes all the time... even as often as hourly.
I just don't get it. Seeing a photo of myself shouldn't bring me to tears - that's some serious issues.
So what is the answer? Is there even a answer? How the hell can it be so confusing? I pretty much look the same all the time (like most people) so why can't I just SEE myself in the same way? So fucking depressing.
I don't like the way my body/mind plays tricks on me during the light half of the year: what I mean is, every spring I start to 'come back to life' - I wake up from depression and low energy, I start to feel good and I start to really live the way I try so hard to live throughout the entire year but never seem to be able to during the dark half of the year. This is, of course, wonderful. The bad part about it this particular year is that never before have I worked so hard on improving myself than I have this past year and things are starting to really come together for me, slowly but surely. My worry is whether or not it is only because it's spring and not because my hard work is paying off. If it's only because it's spring, then I'm bound to fall once again when November comes around and that would really really suck because I'm so sick of the struggle. But if it's not just a coincidence, well then that's a huge deal for me.
After severe anxiety, worry, and fear I finally FINALLY started going to the YWCA to exercise. I almost passed out from panic just going there to sign up. But something strange happened when I actually went to the gym to work out - as I was working my poor neglected muscles/body, I came to the realization that I was actually enjoying myself... I've told myself my whole life that I hate exercise, that exercise and I never got along, that I was born that way. This is true in a way: I was, since birth, a very sedentary person, preferring to live in my head rather than do much moving. But now I realize why I thought I hated exercise so much that it was making it next to impossible to start and keep to any kind of regiment: I have osteoarthritis and fibromylagia - both of those diseases are about pain, pain, and pain. I'm in constant pain. So whenever I've tried to exercise, it hurt like a bitch! No wonder I didn't want to do it. Turns out though, that if I stay away from the high impact stuff (cause that damages my joints and makes my disease worse) and make sure I'm not hurting myself in the "bad way," then it's actually enjoyable! It still hurts, but it hurts in the way that it's supposed to hurt, the way exercise hurts any normal healthy person, that wonderful burn that tells you you're making your body stronger. I actually like exercise, who knew?
I'm very eager now, I want to do so much, so I'm having to force myself to take my time so I don't overdo it and hurt myself or set myself up for failure. I wish I had discovered this years ago, but you can't change the past. So far I'm spending an hour at the gym three days a week. Next week I'm going to start adding swimming (like aqua therapy, water jogging, etc) to my routine. Eventually I want to be working out at least five days a week and I'd like to do some of the yoga and pilates classes they offer as well. What a huge breakthrough for me!
I've been terrified for quite a few years now of starting any kind of routine in my life because in the past I have always failed and after so many times failing, you start to feel defeated and hopeless. I haven't had structure in my life since I was in high school, and even then it wasn't very structured so I'm having to relearn how to do it in almost every aspect of my life. I have severe "all or nothing" thinking, so that poses a challenge all on its own - it's like learning to live from scratch in a way. But I have a kick-ass therapist and she suggested having a plan for failure: a simple concept yet I never thought of it. I always thought I should just be able to pick up and start again if I failed, but it's not always that simple, and having an actual plan to follow is such a great concept and makes me feel more secure in being able to succeed.
So there's that.
In other news, I love plants. Every single spring for years and years I attempt a garden on my balcony and every single year I kill my plants. In the past I always thought it was because I end up neglecting them when I get depressed (which is true too), but this year I've realized, sadly, that I kind of don't really like gardening, and I'm kind of not very good at it lol. I wouldn't say I have a brown thumb, but I'm having to accept that I should stop trying to have a damn garden and just buy the organic produce from those who know what they're doing. I have a few plants out there now so we'll so how those do, but after this, I'm gonna go steal Sunny's tomatoes ;o)
What else is going on... my best friend is moving to another city :o( This is really hard for me, really really hard. A year ago I would be in bed crying all day and night planning my own demise over this, but I've grown a fuck-tonne and I will be okay. It's going to be hard though, he's more than just a best friend, if that makes any sense. And I guess after a year and half I should meet the girlfriend... I'm kind of proud of us though - we managed to stay close friends after all the turmoil and heartache and through such difficult circumstances when it really would have been easier ultimately to go our separate ways, we knew the value of our friendship and chose the path less traveled in order to keep each other in our lives. Who knew it could be done? The hard stuff is still not over yet, but I think the majority of it is definitely behind us. Here's hoping the future rewards us!
I am. duh. I was a chubby little girl until I hit puberty, at which point I naturally thinned out. To tell you the truth, I didn't really notice: as far as I know, I thought I was the same size the whole time (chubby or even fat, even when I was not). So anyway, I thinned out and was pretty damn hot (looking back, of course you never realize it at the time - don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone?). I still thought I was fat though, not huge but definitely "big boned," which is why dieting was always in the back of my mind, always always always. Looking back I can't beleive how sick that was, that I thought I was fat when I was so not: I was damn fine and healthy too. Nonetheless, I remember putting a picture I'd cut out of a magazine on the fridge of a super skinny model - inspiration to lose weight, I said.
So then what happened? Well, first of all, at some point along the way ( think I was either thirteen or fifteen but can't remember at the moment) I "discovered" emotional eating. Well I didn't know that's what it was at the time, but I discovered it nonetheless. Luckily it wasn't something I did too often and it didn't effect my weight too much, probably because I was still somewhat active and healthy. It's no coincidence that this discovery of emotional eating came around the same time as I was becoming unknowingly depressed. I won't go into what was going on and why that added to the depression but just that it was something I was unaware of, I just thought I was weird and super sensitive (I am both those things, but I was also depressed lol).
What's weird about being depressed in my house is that every single person in my family has some mental disorder or another (usually various) but no one said anything to me about possibly being depressed, nothing. Not sure why, but I've always been a bit bitter about that. Back to the topic.
Now, when I was somewhere in my mid teens I fell disgustingly deep in love with a good friend of mine. This caused me a lot of turmoil and inevitably ended in heartbreak for me. How badly was I hurt? Let's just say I only just got over it a few years ago, and I am currently twenty-eight. I got so depressed (still didn't know I had depression btw) that I eventually left my job and school (on the same day) and slowly but surely began shutting the world out, becoming a hermit, pretty much.
And this is where that wonderful thing called emotional eating came in handy. I embraced that coping mechanism, consciously knowing that I would probably gain weight and not caring (because what's the point in looking and feeling good if you don't see any hope for the future?). With the mixture of inactivity and emotional eating, I, of course, did start gaining and I still didn't care. I'm sure I cared on some level but at the time I was too depressed to care. That's how hopeless I felt.
I eventually got to the point where I started to suspect there might be something wrong going on and made an appointment with the doctor. This is when I found out that I did indeed have depression. They diagnosed me with bipolar (because I would go into deep deep depression and then mania) and anxiety and gave me some pills.
By this time I had a full-out eating disorder and was discovering that even though I didn't want to gain weight anymore, it was starting to become out of my control (that's the best way I can put it I think). And I was still depressed. And I didn't know how to get control of my eating again, I just thought I was weak and pathetic. I kept gaining weight.
Then, in my early twenties I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis. No wonder physical activity was so hard, I thought I was just lazy. Try and lose weight when you're severely depressed, have an eating disorder, and have physical disabilities. Right, sounds fun eh?
So I became double the size I used to be - the size of two of me. And trying to lose weight the whole time by dieting dieting dieting and trying to exercise. The dieting wasn't so hard as the exercise, for obvious reasons, but the mental turmoil one goes through when struggling with body image issues is a sickness I wish upon no one - yoyo dieting, all diets that are extremely unhealthy, for years. None of them worked. Diets don't work. I knew that, I knew it had to be a permanent lifestyle change, but by then I was so deep into the cycle of punishing myself for failing by starving myself, then inevitably binging out of starvation and comfort. I now understand that this becomes a mental disorder that only gets worse.
And so I kept trying and the harder I tried, the more weight I gained. I know that doesn't make any sense, but if you're in such a sick cycle it just keeps making you sicker and making things more distorted and eating away at your self-worth and that forbidden comfort food becomes no different than a drug addiction. The only difference is that you have to eat, which makes it harder to avoid.
And that's why I'm fat. Mind you, I don't think being fat is necessarily bad - we all have some amount of fat on our bodies, it's just when you have too much that it can take a toll on your health. If I were able to lose weight (let's hope so!) I wouldn't want to be skinny, I'd want to be pleasantly plump, as they say. That's just me.
There are many judgments about fat people, and I can understand why: it's a simple scientific formula - burn more calories than you consume and lose weight. Unfortunately, when an eating disorder develops, when there's severe depression going on, when physical activity is limited, this simple formula is moot. Don't tell a fat person to just stop eating because you never know if they're like me and get anxiety attacks just walking into the kitchen because they don't want to have to eat but know they need to.
Ultimately I'm not trying to make excuses for myself because that does no one any good, I'm just explaining how I got where I am and why I'm here.
Some days I feel absolutely disgusting, nothing but a blob of grossness that no one would ever want to look at. In fact I've stayed in many times because I thought no one should have to look at me. Sick, no? Some days I actually feel kinda hot, like yes I'm fat but I'm still damn sexy bitches ;o) Both of those are true depending on who's looking. So what others think doesn't really matter. There are plenty of men who love fat chicks, it turns their crank, but at the end of the day, it's me whose opinion matters and I'm not comfortable being as fat as I am. This goes for aesthetics as well (and especially) health.
While it's true that you can be relatively healthy and fat, there are still things going on inside your body that are not good - things have to work harder because of the extra weight and that puts stress on important processes, resulting in adverse health effects. Thinking about what my body is going through makes me sad, I want to be healthy.
I was at a level weight for a few years, but in the past year I have gained a lot more weight (yes, another severe heart break by a man I love) and this has accelerated my distorted thinking about eating and my body and all of that good stuff. But some really good stuff has happened in that time as well: I finally started seeing a therapist (I know, after being depressed most of my life you'd think I'd have gotten one sooner, but that's a whole other story of woe) and she is fucking awesome. I've been in a DBT group (Dialectic Behavioural Therapy) as well, which has helped me so much. And in about two weeks, I will be starting in an eating disorder program at the hospital.
If this doesn't help me, I don't know what will. I recently went to an information seminar for getting gastric bypass surgery, determined that this was my only hope, I fully intended on going for it. But after the information session, there was no way, I was really disappointed at finding out what it's really like and that the only thing getting that surgery does is help you lose a bunch of weight really quickly (the way you would on a fad diet) and you have to change your lifestyle by eating right and exercising anyway, the same way you would without the surgery. There is no difference, well, except for all the serious health risks and permanent sacrifices, etc. I could get the same results going on a shake diet for a few months and then dieting and exercising - I think I've already tried that lol.
Just learning DBT skills in the past six or so months has already helped me immensely with how I deal with food. I'm hopeful that the next six months, plus my therapy, plus the next year in an eating disorder group will be just what I need to get healthy. I'm tired of everything being about my weight. Just the fact that I would never tell anyone the number on the scale tells me how shameful it makes me feel, cause as some of you know, I'm not the most private person, I tell all! lol I would like to think, after being rejected by a man, that it's because of my horrible personality and not because I'm fat :op There is some truth to wanting that, trust me.
I've learned a lot through the years of being in a fat body...
I've learned the importance of not judging someone by their looks. I've learned that it's still okay (socially acceptable) to say hateful things to or about a fat person, to discriminate against them for how they look. I've learned that the media is disgusting. I've learned that people can eat well and exercise and still be fat. I've learned that they should stop making polyester/nylon clothing for plus size women because it's the most unflattering, worst possible fabric for anyone with curves, lumps, or bumps. Oh, and I've also recently learned that there are ingredients in most of the food we buy, such as high fructose corn syrup and MSG that actually effect the body in a way that negates the scientific formula of natural weight loss (calories consumed/calories burned) - it is really sad to find this out because there are some people who try so hard to lose weight and they are unknowingly consuming these additives, not knowing it is likely making their struggle pointless. I've learned a lot more, but I think I'm about done writing for now.
There was no real point in writing this, I just felt like talking about it so thanks for indulging.
Meh I just feel like writing random things. I'm having kind of a blah Friday night here with George (actually, it's just me, George is too cool to hang out with me so he's chillin' on the bed). Listening to the few tracks available right now by Evelyn Evelyn. Watched 'Capturing The Friedmans' whilst working on an art piece (believe it or not, inspired by Mr. Picasso, even though the actual piece really has nothing to do with him or his work... figure that one out... I haz artistic license bitches). Bob Dylan's on now.
I'm simultaneously gathering video, audio, and images of the good doctor (Hunter S. Thompson, of course) to put on a disc for future enjoyment. I just don't get tired of that man and his genius. He really is beyond fascination and more closely definable in spiritual terms... a deity... more important than sliced bread. Or maybe this is just the fixative fumes talking - they're pretty strong. The can says not to smoke...
I wish I had bought that bottle of wine after all.
Know what's ridiculous? The fact that the majority of us westerners live in perpetual preparation for the future, whether it be the next half hour from now, the next month, the next decade, doesn't matter, it's what we do. And we do this until we die, which means we've never really lived because we were too busy preparing. And the really dumb part about that is we're not psychic, we don't know exactly what is going to happen in the future and we all know that plans never go the way they're "supposed" to. What is the point of that? We live in anxiety, the giant 'to-do' lists dangling above our heads, telling us we'd better not (Steve Sinnicks now) waste any time because we have to get these things done first and then we can enjoy ourselves... lmfao I don't know about you, but I've never not had a to-do list. Sure I get stuff done - but more stuff comes up to replace that stuff I just did and there are always things on that list that sit there FOREVER, taunting me, making me feel bad, lingering at the back of my mind when I'm trying to sleep at night and meanwhile I'm wondering why in the world I have insomnia or why in the world I'm so tense.
Instead of wasting our very short lives worrying about what needs to be accomplished, we should be enjoying the fact that we're alive and actually LIVE. And sure, we can be a bit anal sometimes about getting stuff done, but I really think that should count for the minority of our time, not the majority. While I'm aware, lovely readers, that I'm far from the first person to point this out (Courtney Love now), these thoughts have recently made their meaning much more relevant to me and they are not just an important philosophy to strive for, so much as a major key in having a reason to get up every morning (I'm the kind of person who needs life to be meaningful, and if there isn't a real meaningful purpose or reason to live, well, that's just fucking depressing. I also know these thoughts cannot really be stated enough, we all need reminders.
Of course, all of this makes much more sense within a Buddhist, dialectic context: namely mindfulness. Okay, /super enlightening speil... now.
What else is on my mind as of late... men. I'm sure I'm going to get myself into trouble for something I'm about to say, but don't I always? I am, after all, the queen of inappropriateness (note the ego).
I've been really pissed at the male species these days because it seems to me, at least in my experiences, that men have the ability to find extra special ways of being douchebags. And I love men, I love men very much, and I'm not the type of person to typecast a whole group based on the behaviour of a few, but I am batting like, 99/100 here people. It definitely boggles my mind. (hey! fuck you Alexis On Fire! They only have samples on their MySpace page, pffft. Just kidding, love you George! But I'm putting on Sarah Blackwood now...) So anyway, I'm a big fat sucker. I get stung by men over and over and yet I keep coming back for more. Okay, maybe I am at least a little bit masochistic, but my tendencies usually go more along the lines of having my nipples pinched, not being lied to, used, blown off, etc.etc.
The only conclusions I've been able to come to are:
1. Men truly are so completely different than women, at least in the way they communicate, act, and often times think. Duh, we all know that right?
2. Men aren't nearly as brave as we think they are - muscle does not equal heart of steel and so they have many fears and anxieties (just like we do) which seem to be expressed in ways that tend to piss women off.
3. Why? Well I'm assuming it's because society conditions them to "be men" and not show fear. They're not encouraged to express themselves so how can we expect them to be able to? I'm not saying they're cavemen who can't communicate, I'm just saying that they're more likely to shut down or fly the coop if fear or difficulty arises.
On the other hand, there does seem to be a plethora of men out there who actually ARE fucking jerks. I hate to say it, but most of my friends are male and most of them are the ones confirming this conclusion. Like, lying to someone to get them into bed? Yeah, that's a jerk thing to do. Fucking jerk.
This line of thought doesn't really have a point, mostly because I have no idea what the moral of the story is, or how one can avoid the jerks or how men can all of the sudden learn to express themselves in healthy ways. I would like to add, however, that I'm fully aware that us women are nuts as well, we're just nuts in completely different ways then men... both sexes are fucked in our own special ways. But if you're a guy and you're reading this, what the hell man? what the hell...
P.S. I think there should be a 'Thank You' card or something like that for really really good oral sex.
I'm using notepad to write this due to LiveJournal having erased my damn blog the other day, right when I was done typing it, but before, of course, I had a chance to post.
I currently have zero drama going on in my life (thank gods) and nothing immediately worrisome or depressing going on.
That feels nice. Freeing.
Now I'm left with me to deal with! I'm doing a good job, considering, but I have a nagging feeling of... I don't even know... it's just unsettling.
Like, what's going to happen now?
Anxiety about the next thing that will trigger me because I know too well it kills me everytime: it's very black and white - right now I feel happy and hopeful... tomorrow, depending on what happens, I could want to kill myself (knock on wood).
A feeling of being lost, having no footing, being unsure of my self/life, feeling scattered and unfocused.
Oh the joys of mental illness.
The only explanation that comes to mind is that I'm undergoing such drastic change in my ways of thinking, behaving, and believing that I'm not sure who or what I'm becoming... unfamiliar territory.
That's an awesome thing. If I'm wrong, then I really don't know what's up. Do anxiety disorders have to be triggered by situations or can anxiety arise on its own accord?
That could be it. Who knows.
In other, not so unrelated news, I'm finally starting the DBT group next Tuesday. I've been on the waiting list for a couple of years for this! DBT is apparently the make or break therapy for people with Borderline Personality Disorder.
I used to be very bitter about not having had this therapy before... before any damage to my relationship(s) was done. But now I realize that whatever happened, happened because I needed to go through certain things and to learn certain lessons.
A bitter-sweet realization, but better late than never.
Anyhew, it's a thirteen month long intensive group therapy - two hours a week with a group and one hour a week with my therapist one on one. Lots of homework in between.
I'm really excited but a little nervous, to be honest, about walking into a room full of women who have the same illness I have... I wouldn't even be able to handle one of me, let alone a group of me! But I know I'm just being silly ;o)
Along with the DBT stuff, I'm also working with an Al-Anonsponsor and have been going to meetings.
Since I've started doing this, I've learned so much about myself, others, and a lot of things that apply to my life as both a person affected by alcohol and a person with BPD.
All I can say is I'm growing daily and my life is already so much better after only a few weeks.
I can only guess how much growing I'll do for the next thirteen months as I do the DBT and Al-Anon... they're very similar actually.
Okay, enough mental stuff! I'll re-touch on some of the stuff I wrote the other day that LJ erased...
The contest was a seemingly cool attempt to market their 2009 Nissan Cube using nothing but social media (twitter).
Fifty creative Canadians had a seemingly fair chance at winning and Sunny and Blake were among those fifty chosen.
I'm a lazy gal, so if I didn't believe the Crittendens to be exceptionally worthy or winning a car, I would never have posted about it on my blog, or spammed multiple online venues seeking votes for them.
They worked their asses off for months during the contest, I know how much time, effort, and energy was spent on their part: putting their lives on hold in the belief that this was a fair contest.
So by the time the judges were ready to announce the winners, most of us assumed either Sunny or Blake, or both of them, would be coming home from the event in a brand new car.
When that didn't happen, we were left scratching our heads.
These two entries in Encyclopedia Dramatica explain quite well why shit went down the way it did: A simple case of the worst execution of a marketing competition I've ever heard of, to put it lightly.
Speaking of Sunny: You're one tough lady! I'm glad you're doing okay (considering) and I hope they gave you a strong enough cocktail to not be in too much discomfort, and to hopefully get a decent high ;o) You are very loved <3
Completely random thought: I wish there was a healthy diet that didn't require counting, weighing, portioning, etc. of the food.
And shame on you, Winking Judge, for having the worst service I've possibly ever had the other night:
I arrived around 6:45pm, ordered a drink, and sat down.
The waitress eventually came over and asked if I wanted to order food, to which I responded that I would wait a bit, since my friend had yet to arrive.
At 7pm, friend arrived.
At 7:45pm, we were both wondering when in the world the waitress was going to come and take his order (yes he'd been there 45 minutes and no one had served him!).
So he decided to go to the bar and get his drink.
At about 9:30pm after we'd both long finished our one drink of the night and felt quite invisible and disgruntled (and hungry!), we concluded that we were not welcome.
I went to pay for my drink (no tip of course) and the waitress actually forgot that my friend had already paid for his drink.
We left, puzzled and not buzzed.
So folks, from 6:45pm to 9:30pm (two and a half hours I believe), we were approached by the waitress once and once only. She never came to our table. The place was empty. She was sitting and reading a newspaper!!! Horrid.
Anyway, to top off the lovely service, I went to the washroom and there was no fucking toilet paper in the stall.
Gya, I've been feeling so wretchedly anxious! That disgusting feeling in the pit of your stomach that drives people to use, drink, eat, fuck, sleep. It's very uncomfortable... it's a mixture of worry and fear magnified and seems to come too often when there's no purpose for it.
It's no fun feeling like throwing up for no reason... kinda dampens the day.
It's not that anxiety doesn't have a source: I have my reasons for being anxious - in fact, I've pinpointed my current reasons (or so I think) and still I feel this anxiety.
I want to retreat to my bed with my cat and dissolve into seclusion but that only leads to being more depressed... it's a lovely downward spiral that is too easy to fall into.
Deep breathing doesn't seem to be doing much either, which pisses me off because I've been told do to that when anxiety comes.
Take a pill or two... it works wonderfully most of the time. But I don't want to have to pop a pill - I want to have a solution. What to do about feeling anxious so that I actually don't feel anxious. The pills are a dream. A blissful one, but still not real. They help me cope - much like booze, drugs, sex, food, etc. except they're prescribed so I guess that makes them different (ha!).
Fixing the issues that are making me have anxiety is an obvious solution, but not an immediate one. Perhaps I should slip into a meditative state until my next shrink appointment?
Or I could bitch about it right here on the interwebz. It takes the edge off ;o)
I'm sitting at my desk in my new studio/office/workspace (choose one) and I fuck-ing-love-it. I pulled it all together today and it's pretty much done. My desk is so much bigger, I have storage, I have a balcony with sunlight and fresh-air - the only thing I can complain about at the moment is the white-trash neighbours who sit outside and drink beer while talking much too loudly about nothing and occasionally getting into a verbal match where whoever can swear at the other the loudest and most inappropriately wins.
But I say, they're all winners *thumbs up*
I live in one of the good neighbourhoods in Hamilton and these people stick out like a sore thumb.
Anyway, I can't let myself get stressed out about it. I've been in de-stress mode since last Sunday morning at meditation.
You see, when meditating, one is still. Breathe. Relax. Let thoughts drift away. Bring awareness to the moment. It's a wonderful thing. Jodie and I started going to Sunday morning meditation at a Buddhist temple up the mountain and we both loved going - it made the whole rest of the week better. But we stopped going due to early mornings being hard and most likely approaching cold weather.
Now it's about a year later and we're dragging our asses back into Bodhisattva-ness damnit.
Last Sunday was our first time back and it was an eye-opener.
I sat on the cushion, tried to relax, breathe, close my eyes.
First sensation - racing thoughts. Not just racing thoughts, but thoughts flashing by at a frequency so fast that I could hardly decipher what the thoughts were about.
Since last summer I've been working pretty hard at not having to think those thoughts that make me worried, sad, anxious, afraid, etc. T.V. on every night, all night long as I slept because the t.v. would allow me to fall asleep without having to be alone with my thoughts. The t.v. was the distraction. I didn't care what was on, as long as it distracted me, put my brain on zombie mode, I guess you could say.
Having the t.v. on while you sleep is SO bad for you. You don't get a proper rest and you don't remember your dreams. You wake up feeling gross. Also, it's addicting.
When I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is check my email, and then I'm pretty much on the computer all day. More distraction.
I'd been living like this for months and months and I had no idea I was even stressed out.
So last Sunday was the first time in a LONG time that I was forced to be completely quiet, still, aware, and it was as if all those thoughts I'd been distracting myself from came flooding through, the damn had broke. It was disturbing.
I then became aware of my breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. Long, slow, smooth breaths - that's what I tried to do... except my breaths came out short, shaky, and uneven. I couldn't breathe, that's how stressed I was.
My third sensation was pain. Nothing new, but it was worse than usual - perhaps because I was attempting to unclench from months of a stiff, tight body? Or perhaps it was merely because I was paying attention.
It was a horrible morning and left me depressed for the rest of the day. But it also opened my eyes to how poorly I take care of myself. So I decided then and there that I couldn't go on like that anymore and here I am a week later, already feeling so much better.
It's really sad when you tell your shrink that you "started to eat and breathe this week." I didn't realize how crazy that sounded till she pointed it out. Shit. What the fuck am I doing to myself?
Right. So tomorrow morning is attempt number two at meditating - I look forward to it.
Oh, and I've canceled my cable so there's nothing on anymore. Ha!
It appears as though I've rambled on quite a bit already. You might wanna take a bathroom break, cause I have a lot more to talk about.
Okay you're back! lol
George.
George racked up a $450 vet bill the other week (talk about stress). You may remember me mentioning that I took pictures of his asshole? Well I took him to the vet and it turned out he had a bladder infection - apparently bladder infections do weird things to male cats *shrugs.* He had to stay at the vet for two nights and they sent him home with two different medications and a plastic cone around his neck.
First let me tell you: George just might look cuter when he's wearing his cone then when he's not. It's too sweet to describe - I have to recommend getting your cat a cone. Pictures are coming, don't worry.
George is also freakishly undisturbed by this huge cone around his neck: he's been wearing it for a week and a half straight with zero problems. And don't tell him I told you this, but the thing is on so loosely that he could just slip his head out of it if he wanted to.
My theory? He doesn't want to.
I didn't get off that easy though. He's being so stubborn about taking his pills. I've tried disguising them in all kinds of yummy things - bacon even! He's onto me. He knows what's up. He eats around the pill or he eats the food then spits the pill out, still intact!
I've had good luck for the past two days with some wet food and cat milk so I just pray it lasts till he's done his meds cause he needs to get rid of his infection - poor guy.
And that's what's up with George - he has an exciting life.
Encyclopedia Dramatica.
Heard of it?
Me neither. Well, at least up till a few weeks ago. Now I know very well what it is. It seems my epic Suzi Blu blog post caught their attention and inspired an article of their own - it's apparently part of a series on whores, according the site. Karma really is a bitch.
On to more important things: I've watched three Monty Python movies so far and they rock: Holy Grail, Life Of Brian, and Meaning Of Life. I feel there's a good chance I might start 'getting' the references people make now lol.
I also got in a few other movies in the past couple weeks:
Chaplin - definitely good enough to own. Jersey Girl - wtf? I'd like my hour and a half back please. The Hours - I've probably watched this six times in the past two weeks and have officially added it to my list of favourites. He's Just Not That Into You - no.
The white trash are blasting hip-hop... bad hip-hop.
Hey, while I'm on pet-peeves, is it just me or is it incredibly annoying when the elevator door opens and you start to walk out but people start walking in instead of letting you walk out first? Isn't it proper elevator etiquette to let those who are in the elevator get off before the people waiting for the elevator get on? Yes, I think it is. And if it's isn't, it damn well should be.
I think that's good enough for now as far as blog posts go.
For me, blogging is cathartic, so when I go a while without doing it, I start getting a bit antsy.
P.S. My mum unloaded a fuck-ton of good quality oil paints and some acrylics too. I'm going to take a bath in them now.
I went to the park today. I probably wouldn't have gone to the park if I hadn't promised my therapist I would. Ya see she's trying to help me have a better quality of life so that the work the meds are doing aren't going to waste. She wants me to take advantage of any energy and motivation I'm feeling, which is easier said than done.
She made me choose something extremely simple to do but it had to be something that I actually wanted to do and would benefit from, otherwise I would be overwhelmed and even if I achieved the goal, would likely not stick to it in the long term.
It's a really weird therapy process that I have never heard of, yet it's so simple and makes so much sense. It takes into account how hard it is for people to take action in their lives in whatever way necessary when they're so used to hiding away in their apartment, no longer capable of maintaining any real schedule, thus being overwhelmed by the simplest of tasks... not even the task itself, just the idea of it: it has to be done - it seems monstrous when it's really very small and simple. If I have to do two things in one day? Forget about it! That becomes so overwhelming that I usually end up not doing either thing... there may be no logic in it, but it feels as real as the air we're breathing.
My existence consists of spending the day and night in my one bedroom apartment, mostly doing something on the computer. Sometimes I have to clean. Sometimes I have to shower. Sometimes I have to cook! Sometimes I have to run errands (omg).
I go out to socialize occasionally, but not much, and it's usually places where I'm already comfortable being like a friend's place, or my writer's meetings.
(the phone is ringing - I'm too scared to answer it because I don't know who it is). I hate talking on the phone and only do so when absolutely necessary, so I'm sure that has some effect on my social interaction.
I've been living like this (well actually I'm doing a lot better than I was) for years now... most of my twenties have been a losing battle.
So to the people who are reading this and wondering why I don't just CHANGE already, it is because it's all I know. I have mental illness, it makes me act and react and feel in ways that are often completely void of logic. It is quite possible that if I had gotten the proper help years ago, I would be living a very different life right now... but that's not the way life works... things tend to happen when they're meant to happen.
What the hell was this blog post about again?
Right, I went to the park.
And for reasons I cannot explain, I was sick to my stomach with anxiety at the thought of actually GOING to the park. I have no idea why. That kinda made me realize just how serious this is: if walking two blocks up the street to the park and sitting at a bench journaling for a half hour makes me that anxious and afraid, I must really have a problem because I did not anticipate that happening. Why would I? I'm not agoraphobic and I'm usually fine going out by myself when I feel like it... so what gives?
And then I got to the park and I seriously felt like people were laughing at me. No logic.
I found a picnic bench and proceeded to journal. I journaled about what I was thinking about the whole going to the park thing. The longer I sat there, the more relaxing and enjoyable the experience was. I kept trying not to look up from my journal because I didn't want to see anyone looking at me (wtf) but when I did, I noticed a girl had sat down at another bench by herself to read a book.
I tried not to look at her because I didn't want people to look at me so I thought I'd give her the same courtesy.
So I laughed at myself for being such an idiot and continued my journaling.
I stayed for fourty five minutes and would have stayed longer if it hadn't been so chilly (I despise cold!).
The walk home was better, except I thought this creepy looking man was following me so that was kinda scary, but I was just being paranoid o_O
So I don't know what any of this means, it's too big for me to try to wrap my mind around right now, too overwhelming.
I'm being guided by a very capable therapist toward a better quality of life and I believe if she sticks with me, it just might work! But at the same time I'm still terrified. I'm still afraid to set any goals right now - if I make something a goal, I will be letting myself down for the millionth time if I fail. If it's not a goal and I fail, it's not as big a deal. It's stupid, but that's where I am right now.
Except for this going to the park business that I was tricked into doing ;) I'm supposed to do it two times this week and I'm afraid I won't be able to go a second time because it's supposed to rain all the way till Saturday. Or maybe I'm more relieved than scared.
Whatever.
I have a lot more to talk about but I'll have to do it in another post. More literary fun, film festival fun, stupid people doing stupid things, and creepy dates.
At 8pm, we're given a prop, a line, and a location to incorporate into a screenplay that has to be no more then five minutes in length (on film).
We'll be going strong till midnight (myself and three other writers) - it's do or die because not only do we have to write a screenplay, but we have to write a GOOD screenplay. Like, competition-winning good. The pressure is ON.
After it's written, the rest of the 24 hours will be spent on shooting, editing, all that crazy film hoopla that I don't know much about. Maybe I'll get to watch some of the process.
I'm nervous and excited *gulp* - I love being part of projects, especially where there's writing involved. But I think we'll have a lot of fun doing it.
Did I mention that it will be me and a room full of middle-aged men? lol yep. I'm the only woman working on this (aside from the actress, who I probably won't even meet). That should be interesting!
If our entry wins, it will be played at some fancy-shmancy event and will be a very awesome item to add to my CV, yes ma'am.
It's nice to be productive/needed and all that jazz - I need more projects like this on a consistent basis. Mind you, I'm a complete amateur when it comes to script writing (I think I've attempted it once or twice) and have no wish to pursue it (I'm mostly there tonight for prose/dialogue purposes, being the awesome writer that I am), but any experience is good experience... unless it's a bad experience...
I shall divulge all the literary/filmy/testosterony goodness (and other equally unexciting items) when I return. Wish me luck!
The T.V. has been on a lot lately: I rarely watch it but it sort of keeps me company at night. Bad habit, but I guess I need it right now.
Just painted coat number three on my living room wall in 'Dare-Devil' red. I quite like it and can't wait till I can put up the wall shelves and get this room done.
Started a bit of Spring cleaning but not planning on going crazy as last year I planned such a big clean/over-haul of the apartment that I ended up getting overwhelmed and taking forever to finish.
Shrink just doubled my meds - I was on the lowest dose possible, apparently... kinda pisses me off. I hate hate taking medication but I sort of also don't want to be completely miserable.
I am pretty miserable. If someone as optimistic as I am can get like this, I feel so sorry for people who started out on the pessimistic side of life.
I've sort of given up for the time being. Not really sure what that means. I'm afraid of trying because I feel so defeated and exhausted from so many years of failure that I don't think I can handle it again. So at the moment, I'm pretty much just taking it easy, whatever that means. I'm at a stand-still of sorts. Do not apply pressure, contents may explode.
I'm most likely moving my writer's group to a new location. We've all had enough of loud, poorly lit establishments that cost us more than we'd like to spend. We have a perfect location, but the move should be worth the extra few blocks east.
Speaking of the group, one of the members is forming a team for the second annual Hamilton 24 Hour Film Festival. The script will be written by members of Hamilton Writers, with me as head writer, and the film will be credited to the group. I thought that was very nice of him to give the group publicity when he could have taken all the credit himself. That should be really fun - it's coming up on May 1st.
I'm also thinking I should buy a domain for Hamilton Writers cause the current website just isn't cutting it. So many ads. Stupid Freeservers...
And don't get me started on domains! We're coming up on May and marylin.ca has been offline since February because people are fucking stupid and don't know how to do their jobs. All I want to know is how to point my domain to the right server. It's been almost three months now and I'm still working on the problem. How stupid is that?
Ummm I've been meeting with a new group in Hamilton, currently called 'Hamilton Hacker Space' and that's been pretty cool. The plan is to rent a space in the city to share for projects of any kind that you don't really have room for or don't want to do in your home. It's for artists, crafters, DIYers, hackers, computer geeks, etc etc etc. We're currently looking for a place, so the verdict is still out on whether or not I'll be able to be an active member - it all depends on the location of the space. I don't drive, I can't walk far, and when it comes to winter months, it's impossible to get me out very far.
What else... 'Main Desserts' on Main and Locke is no more and has been replaced with 'Shanti Yoga'. The cake at 'Main Desserts' was to die for, but I think I need a yoga center more. They offer belly dancing, which I really wanna do, and on Friday nights there's meditation and chanting so I'm gonna check that out with Jodie (my super awesome friend and neighbour) this week. I could really use it.
I'm happy that the warmer weather is coming around. I'm gonna start going for walks. Need to get a new mp3 player.
I dunno what else... I'm itching to do art but my living room is all fucked-up cause I'm painting... most of my materials are kind of inaccessible. I should do something about that tomorrow gods damnit. A friend wants to do an art swap with me so I guess I'd better.
I'm tired. T.V. kills brain cells.
I saw the series finale of 'Corner Gas' tonight - I'm gonna miss that show. Canada pulled off a sitcom in the middle of R-E-G-I-N-A and it was SUCCESSFUL. That's quite the accomplishment. Kudos. Canada rocks... and we're funny as fuck.
This blog is pissing me off. I hate the colour combinations! I'm so bad with colour! Yet I do art, go figure. But yes, it's driving me crazy. I want some pink... how hard can that be? *sniff sniff* Alas I won't fret about it now... *grumble*
I think I might be driving my neighbours crazy with my over-playing of Amanda Palmer's new album. She kicks the can across the street though so fuck them. I want her photo book... photos of the dead Amanda Palmer... beautifully sick.... Amanda Fucking Palmer.
Ok no more of this nonsense. I'm getting too comfortable with this blogging thing eh? So now you know what's goin' on in a nutshell.
There will never be enough space to fill the thoughts in my head, but I appreciate this piece of the world wide interwebz, I really do.
April is here: month four - a quarter of the year passed.
This year was to be the year of 'Marylin' - the year where I stopped moaning and actually acted on life. Because when last new year's came around and the question of "what are your resolutions for 2009?" started popping up, I realized that the resolutions I had were the exact same resolutions (for the most part) I'd had every year for pretty much a decade.
I am twenty seven years old. I cannot go into my thirties with the same energy as I've been spending in my twenties. I just can't. I know I wasted a fucking decade - I can't do it again.
It's not that I've done nothing, it's that I've done a very small fraction of what I have the potential and drive to do/achieve. I've only lived a small fraction of the life I've wanted to live.
Over these years I have made some progress. I've realized a lot of the limitations I was fighting against were not as controllable as I thought. Once I stopped fighting certain things, so much stress and sadness was taken away.
All my life I've suffered from sleeping problems, which have caused a lot of problems for me regarding school, work, appointments, and even socially.
I've strived all these years to take control of my sleep patterns, thinking I just wasn't trying hard enough.
Finally, a few years ago I had an over-night sleep study done that revealed I had what's called Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder.
The doctor explained to me that trying to fight it is fruitless because it is a neurological problem, it's just the way my brain works, and that I should try to work with it if I want to be happy. One of the best things for someone with DSPD is to do a job where you can set your own hours, like writing, for example.
Great! I thought. I am a writer!This just gives me another reason to justify writing for a living.
So after this new information was made known to me, I slowly stopped fighting against the sleep issues and that has made a world of difference. I don't feel guilty or stressed out anymore about it. This has made me a happier person in general.
Ask me how my writing career is going.
Well, just take a look at my ISBN collection and that should answer your question.
Isn't it funny what excuses we can make for our lack of productivity? Mmmhmmm.
Another obstacle that came about right when my twenties started was being "disabled."
Yes, I was about twenty when I couldn't take the pain and fatigue anymore. That's when they diagnosed me with the osteoarthritis and the fibromyalgia.
I can't even begin to talk about how weird that is/was for me. I've never been a very active person, so it left everyone baffled as to why I would get osteoarthritis, and so young too. I got the fucker all over the body too. The fibro is a little more understandable, my mum has that too, but still, at twenty?
Suffice it to say, these have factored into my life substantially. It is quite hard for me to walk very far, let alone do much rigorous exercise. It makes me an outsider to my peers, who sometimes don't quite understand why we can't take that twenty minute walk to "insert place." It's embarrassing, especially because I've never been very vocal about my issues, so it just makes me look really lazy to people, since you can't see my disabilities just by looking at me.
It's also hindered my ability to lose weight. Not only is exercise difficult, but the fibro effects your metabolism and also includes depression as a side effect, which I already suffer from. (But I'll get to the weight and the depression as well.)
I don't feel sorry for myself about my physical disabilities. I'm okay with adjusting my life because of them. I just still can't bring myself to accept that I can't exercise the way other people can and I know my refusal to accept this is only because of my desire to lose weight and be healthy.
I've finally accepted that I can't be as active as most of my peers, and I've been working on being more vocal about it, but I still have shame, and I hate that I have that shame, hence more shame. I don't want to be a pain in the ass ya know?
Anyway, I have come to a place where all those feelings of shame and of trying to fight the illnesses have lessened a great deal, which means, again, that I am a happier person with a lot less stress.
Then there is the mental catastrophe to talk about.
I honestly think I had depression as a child when I look back, but there's no way to know. What I do know is that when I hit my early teens, I had it. I had really bad depression and I didn't know it was depression, I just thought I was a really sensitive person lol. A misunderstood teen.
I didn't realize I might have a problem till I was nineteen, living in a bachelor apartment that I'd rented with no employment to speak of, where I spent the majority of my time filling binders full of get-rich-quick ideas and reading tarot cards over the phone for Miss Cleo (without payment).
If you don't remember Miss Cleo, let me refresh your memory:
Three months later I found myself unable to get up from my futon because i was "inexplicably" paralyzed with depression. But this was before I started hallucinating and being afraid to go outside...
The worst part of it was that my entire family suffers from a cornucopia of lovely mental illnesses and not once did anyone in my family suggest that I might also be afflicted - they all just thought I was the "normal" one. The one who would actually go somewhere in life.
Anyway, so I sought help and was diagnosed with bipolar and anxiety disorders. The little pink pill (paxil) they gave me made me feel better for about a year, but when it stopped working, things were a lot worse and this coincided with the worsening (and discovering) of my physical issues.
Since the initial diagnoses, I'd been seeking proper help in the form of therapy to no avail, and ended up being switched to effexor for a while (this made me worse), and then to celexa (which helped a lot and which I still take now) by a family doctor who I all but reported for malpractice for so many reasons.
I was monitoring my own meds and recieving zero therapy due to long waiting lists and a bitch of an ex-roommate who failed to deliver a very important phone message to me.
It wasn't until late last year that my name finally reached the top of a waiting list and I got myself a proper therapist, working under a psychiatrist.
The official diagnoses was Borderline Personality Disorder (which I knew) and they are keeping an eye out for signs of bipolar, which is tricky because you can have both, but it's hard to tell since people with BPD usually exhibit a lot of similar traits as people with Bipolar. Either way, I'm sick in the noggin'.
The good news is I'm finally getting help. There's a program that people with BDP can go through called Dialectic Behavoural Therapy that I'm on the waiting list for. This is supposed to help drastically with my issues and help me deal with things in my life.
As for what I can do to actually fight my mental issues, I 'm really not sure. Trying to fight them in the past, as if they weren't a reality, usually proved to create more guilt and so the cycle goes. I've learned that if I don't take my illnesses into consideration, it will lead to unnecessary disappointment.
The problem is that until I do what I need to do/learn what I need to learn therapy wise, I keep going through the same mental issues as always, and as always, they take me two steps backwards. It's always a matter of keeping my head above the water, and after so many years, that is very tiring and makes it more and more tempting to just let go, to give in, to drown.
My mental illness is the strongest force in my life - it paralyzes me and I can never get used to it, because if I did, it would mean being satisfied with not improving myself or my situation.
This is the obstacle in my life that fuels the other obstacles, the obstacle that prevents the other obstacles from being removed.
If the plant continues to grow, it's kind of hard to prevent the leaves from coming back, season after season.
I'm overweight because I was so depressed that I didn't care. I'm still overweight because I'm still depressed and I use food as a drug because I don't know how to manage my emotions properly. I'm still overweight because I have osteoarthritis and fibromyalgia, which fuck up my physical activity and metabolism.
I'm overweight, which makes the physical disabilities worse, because my poor joints have to carry all that extra weight, which makes physical activity even harder, which makes losing weight even harder.
I'm overweight, which makes me depressed because I'm not happy with my body, which has given me a low self-esteem, which has effected my social life, which has made me more depressed and withdrawn, which has made me want to eat more...
It's all mental though. My own mind has created my own misery and what will happen if I can't change my mind? I wish it was more of a choice. I wish I could just buck-up and get on with life. But it's more complicated then that. I can buck-up, but it's only a matter of time before it catches up with me again and the fall is always so hard.
I feel like a whiny baby complaining. But this is my reality. I wish I were just a whiny baby, so someone reading this could slap me in the face and show me my own stupidity, and then I could move on.
So this is my reality.
I have osteoarthritis and fibromyalgia that I receive disability for because I can't work. I have this delayed sleep phase disorder that prevents me from keeping a normal schedule, which is okay, because I don't work anyway. I don't work, which allows me the opportunity to actually write and follow my dream of being a successful writer.
All of this seems to work itself out... it almost seems like the universe planned it that way for a reason.
But my reality includes this debilitating mental illness, which seems to be THE obstacle standing in my way. It scares the shit out of me to think that I'll be this stagnant and unable to escape when I'm thirty seven. I can't deal with that, I have way too much potential for that to happen.
They're playing with meds (carefully) and I'm seeing a really good therapist on a regular basis. I should be getting into the DBT program thingy quite soon according to her, at which time I'll still be seeing her.
Aside from trying again and again and not giving up, I'm really counting on the program and the therapy to give me a lot of what I need to improve the way I live my life.
And it will be completed before I turn thirty.
Something else I'm starting to consider is gastric bypass surgery. I've obviously considered it many times before, but was always against it because it's unnatural.
But now the pros are really beginning to out-weight the cons: this surgery would make me lose weight, which would take stress off my joints, which would allow me to be more active, which would improve my overall health and lessen my general pain, which would make me more generally happy. I would not be so disgusted with my body, which would make me feel more confident, which would give me higher self-esteem, which would make me happier and improve my social life, which would make me happier as well.
It would be a huge thing to not have to worry about, which would free up so much energy. It would drastically effect my mental state and level of self-love.
I'm not saying that losing weight would solve my problems. I'm naive but not that naive. I just know that it would be a gigantic step toward improving my life.
The only concern I have is that getting such a surgery would not change my eating behaviours in itself, so I would definitely need to get help on that part of the deal.
So those are two gigantic things that will be happening before the big 3-0 (not sure about the surgery yet though).
I'm so tired right now that the usual momentum I'd have for "trying again, but this time better" is not showing itself. The thought of listing all of the things I need/want to accomplish is so overwhelming that I think it's best if I just try to keep it simple until I'm more capable of pondering more. Even the simple things are making my heart rate a little jumpy.
1. Take good care of myself.
That's my first job. I'll go from there.
I'm actually not done writing this entry, but my eyes are getting a lil' tired so I'll end it for now.
If you've read all this, well, you're a trooper! Thanks :)
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