Today on and off the waterworks have been in action. The only appropriate place they showed up was my psychology appointment this afternoon. I thought I was doing pretty good all in all this week so far. Then an off the cuff remark made about a song I was listening to made me tear up. It really cut me to the quick, my brother's incredulity at a song that I liked and even though a daft pop song made me feel better about me. And not many things make it feel okay to be me.
Of course me being me I couldn't express any of this to him for fear he may think me silly. So I just let it lie. After that I did okay. I even had a laugh here and there and talked a little on Twitter. I pottered around, made dinner and watched some television. I guess watching Joan Rivers frank documentary on More4 started chipping away at me.
My empathy went into overdrive as I felt so sorry for all the pain and loneliness she'd experienced. I couldn't relate to all of it. Most definitely not losing a husband to suicide but I could really see her heart was on her sleeve and I felt a kinship as daft as that may seem. So I got up and decided to go get into my PJ's, shake off the moroseness and get some hamster high as I call it.
Although in this case it was a gerbil high I was after. I wandered into my brother's room to see the girls and watch them scurry about. It never fails to make me smile. I had to go the extra hog though and I stuck my hand int he tank. I love it when they come sit on me. And Venus did just that, nuzzling in and playing about. While she was sitting on my palm, Luna ran underneath my forearm and I thought was sniffing me till I felt her bite down. She didn't break the skin but it definitely smarted. So shaking it off I tried earning some affection with a treat. Again though she came straight up to my hand and bit me.
I was getting paranoid by this stage so let it be for a few moments and after I saw she was okay with my brother tried again. Yet straight away she bit down.
That was it for me. I was heartbroken and if I think about it now while typing I'm sure I'll start crying again.
Coming back to the Joan Rivers thing again, what I could really understand was the need to be loved. That's all I've ever really wanted. To be liked. Loved by someone. To fit in and be part of the crowd. I never have been though no matter how hard I tried. And I tried desperately in high school. Oh it's painful to think about now about how I would twist myself for them all, pathetic really. No matter what I've ever done, I've never felt it was good enough. Not for my parents, friends, the world in general and most of all for me.
My pets have always existed outside of the harsh rules that I set for myself. They have truly been the most joyful part of my life. I feel contentment with them that I don't ever experience outside of our time together. Whether they do or they don't I've always felt such unconditional love from them. I feel wholly myself when I'm holding them and I feel at peace. My heart swells with joy that I can't even begin to explain.
And tonight when Luna kept biting me I felt so dejected. It was like having all that joy ripped away. I had been rejected. Like I was back in high school and the bullies where right that I was a lost cause. No one ever will or ever could love me. I have nothing to offer and I'm so wholly abhorrent that even sweet furry little gerbils are disgusted by my presence. My brother has told me not to take it personally and I know it's her nature, females are always more aggressive but there's a part of me that's just so sad and can't let it go. I just want to hold her and love her but she doesn't want me. And this will keep me up all night now. I know I won't sleep and right now I'm not sure if I can stop crying. I just wonder if there's ever going to be a day where I don't feel so alone and outcast.
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
Friday Feelings
Emotional. Anything family orientated has been setting me off this evening. A warm moment between father and son, to the horror and agony of watching Jaycee Lee Duggard's tale of captivity. We have a friend coming to stay tomorrow and while that's nice it means my parents won't be coming to stay. And I want to see them so desperately but I can't. I just can't step foot in that house again. And I can't express how much that shreds my heart to pieces. Especially when you hear your father on the phone expressing his sorrow for ruining your life. Which isn't the case, no matter what went down between us. I stand here today in this condition because of the choices I made. No one else.
And that's not to say I wasn't angry with my father for a long time. I was. It doesn't mean that anger was justified though. It simply blinded me to the truth of the situation. Which is my parents are two very broken people, who did their best for us. There was never any malice behind their actions, they didn't want to hurt us, they wanted to protect us. But we ended up hurt anyway and that's not something that can be erased.
But I don't want to spend my life focusing on the past and assigning blame because where will it get any of us. What I want is to have a real and honest relationship with my parents. My Mum and me are very close. She's easy to talk to and the week we spent together while my brother and father where away on holiday was great, laid back and fun.
It doesn't work that way with my Dad. There's so much distance between us. I never know what to say around him. There's just not that ease that's there between me and Mum. He keeps everything so bottled up, you're never sure what he's thinking or feeling at any given moment. And I have to be honest there's still a part of me that's just that scared little girl. He was never physical with us bar one or two regrettable situations, it was mostly verbal abuse and just a quiet distance. He was never really there with us. He's always seemed like he's somewhere else, you can just see it in his eyes. And work was hard, gruelling and demoralising at times, with a boss that loved to push his buttons. So he coped with it the only way he knew how, he'd go get a drink or he'd come home and zone out in front of the TV. Can't blame him for wanting an escape.
So there was always this quiet angst hanging in the air. We walked on egg shells at times when work was making him noticeably agitated. And even after years of redundancy he can still have a temper flare once in a blue moon.
So it can be hard to know when the best time to talk to him is. When will you get his full attention and make sure that he's not distracted or irritated and just not in the mood to talk. And i guess I unjustifiably worry about his reaction to more personal topics. Especially those pertaining to my treatment. Currently keeping it to myself that I have to go for an ECG because of my anti-depressant. Its completely routine and I don't expect any problems but my Dad has always been a worrier and it would just set him off panicking about nothing. And there's a possibility he might tell me to quit taking my tablets. He has once before instructed my Mum to throw them out when I lived at home when he saw an unflattering piece on anti-depressants on television. He's never been very pro meds anyway. Well he's not very pro any kind of therapy but he'd never try to talk us out of what we think we need. He only wants to see us happy. And I know that and love that about him. I just wish I knew a way in. I don't want to look back in years to come and wish I'd taken more chances and tried harder. It'll kill me if we can't reach a better place, especially if god forbid something happened and he passed before his time. I know me. It'd eat away at me for the rest of my life. Because that's just who I am and I don't think that's ever going to change. Not significantly at least.
And that's not to say I wasn't angry with my father for a long time. I was. It doesn't mean that anger was justified though. It simply blinded me to the truth of the situation. Which is my parents are two very broken people, who did their best for us. There was never any malice behind their actions, they didn't want to hurt us, they wanted to protect us. But we ended up hurt anyway and that's not something that can be erased.
But I don't want to spend my life focusing on the past and assigning blame because where will it get any of us. What I want is to have a real and honest relationship with my parents. My Mum and me are very close. She's easy to talk to and the week we spent together while my brother and father where away on holiday was great, laid back and fun.
It doesn't work that way with my Dad. There's so much distance between us. I never know what to say around him. There's just not that ease that's there between me and Mum. He keeps everything so bottled up, you're never sure what he's thinking or feeling at any given moment. And I have to be honest there's still a part of me that's just that scared little girl. He was never physical with us bar one or two regrettable situations, it was mostly verbal abuse and just a quiet distance. He was never really there with us. He's always seemed like he's somewhere else, you can just see it in his eyes. And work was hard, gruelling and demoralising at times, with a boss that loved to push his buttons. So he coped with it the only way he knew how, he'd go get a drink or he'd come home and zone out in front of the TV. Can't blame him for wanting an escape.
So there was always this quiet angst hanging in the air. We walked on egg shells at times when work was making him noticeably agitated. And even after years of redundancy he can still have a temper flare once in a blue moon.
So it can be hard to know when the best time to talk to him is. When will you get his full attention and make sure that he's not distracted or irritated and just not in the mood to talk. And i guess I unjustifiably worry about his reaction to more personal topics. Especially those pertaining to my treatment. Currently keeping it to myself that I have to go for an ECG because of my anti-depressant. Its completely routine and I don't expect any problems but my Dad has always been a worrier and it would just set him off panicking about nothing. And there's a possibility he might tell me to quit taking my tablets. He has once before instructed my Mum to throw them out when I lived at home when he saw an unflattering piece on anti-depressants on television. He's never been very pro meds anyway. Well he's not very pro any kind of therapy but he'd never try to talk us out of what we think we need. He only wants to see us happy. And I know that and love that about him. I just wish I knew a way in. I don't want to look back in years to come and wish I'd taken more chances and tried harder. It'll kill me if we can't reach a better place, especially if god forbid something happened and he passed before his time. I know me. It'd eat away at me for the rest of my life. Because that's just who I am and I don't think that's ever going to change. Not significantly at least.
Wednesday, 17 August 2011
Moth Dance
So here it is. Almost 4am and still no sleep. And probably none anytime soon. The bulb has went in my bedside lamp so I've had to turn on the light. This is far too bright to sleep with on.Yet I'm still not comfortable enough here to sleep without a light. I need a safety blanket. Especially considering the batshit insane things than roll around inside my noggin. Switching on the light in the kitchen and the bathroom scares me. Sometimes outright panics me, especially at night. Particularly when I'm alone. I have this strange sense of dread when the flickering occurs, like Pinhead from Hellraiser or the overused scary chick with black hair from japanese horror flicks will come crawling out at me. I kid you not these thoughts actually pass through my skull.
What is it about the space inbetween light and dark that unnerves me so?
I guess it's possibilities that immobilise me. My head always has a field day reaching for the million and one answers to "What could go wrong here?" No matter how outlandish, they arise and frightfully so.
I'm sure it all has its roots in my parents overprotective ways. I could never go anywhere without it being a military operation. I went to a Take That concert in Manchester when in highschool and I was grilled for about 2 weeks before going by my dad. I had to promise to take a note of the bus number plate, the name of the driver, where we were parked etc and I had to absolutely without question call him the moment I arrived.
It was like that with everything. Even just going to my cousins birthday party when she turned 18 I had to constantly call and check in. And if I couldn't for whatever reason I would panic like you would not believe.
All my nights out where consumed with the fear of not being able to do as I'd been asked. I'd worry about facing my angry father and just couldn't have any fun.
I'm 30 now and don't live at home but I still call to check in if I'm out. If I didn't my poor Mum would bear the brunt of his unecessary worry.
So the what ifs have played a massive role in my life, they were the seeds from which my anxiety and panic grew to the point where I'm now ruled by them.
So now even the flickering of a striplight floods my neurons with numerous and ever ghastly outcomes before it's all laid to rest when the light bursts out and sends calm across the land again.
Well not calm really. Takes a while to come down after but at least reason prevails, if nothing else does.
What is it about the space inbetween light and dark that unnerves me so?
I guess it's possibilities that immobilise me. My head always has a field day reaching for the million and one answers to "What could go wrong here?" No matter how outlandish, they arise and frightfully so.
I'm sure it all has its roots in my parents overprotective ways. I could never go anywhere without it being a military operation. I went to a Take That concert in Manchester when in highschool and I was grilled for about 2 weeks before going by my dad. I had to promise to take a note of the bus number plate, the name of the driver, where we were parked etc and I had to absolutely without question call him the moment I arrived.
It was like that with everything. Even just going to my cousins birthday party when she turned 18 I had to constantly call and check in. And if I couldn't for whatever reason I would panic like you would not believe.
All my nights out where consumed with the fear of not being able to do as I'd been asked. I'd worry about facing my angry father and just couldn't have any fun.
I'm 30 now and don't live at home but I still call to check in if I'm out. If I didn't my poor Mum would bear the brunt of his unecessary worry.
So the what ifs have played a massive role in my life, they were the seeds from which my anxiety and panic grew to the point where I'm now ruled by them.
So now even the flickering of a striplight floods my neurons with numerous and ever ghastly outcomes before it's all laid to rest when the light bursts out and sends calm across the land again.
Well not calm really. Takes a while to come down after but at least reason prevails, if nothing else does.
Zombism 101
Today is one of those days, I don't feel awful and I don't feel great. Most of me is in some nebulous parallel universe while a bit of the brain and the body stayed behind to keep up appearances. Like the less interesting version of Invasion of the Bodysnatchers.
It's just all rather blah. And I'm sat here thinking about all the things I should be doing and I can't muster the energy to give two hoots about.
For all I know there are new and fuzzy lifeforms forming on top of my dishes and cutlery but I'd prefer that it stayed out of sight and mind. Actually I'd prefer it if someone swung by and took care of it so i wouldn't have to. I don't want to worry about it. And i can't really be bothered to do anything about it.
I can't be bothered to do a lot of things when I feel this way. Washing and getting dressed are two of them. In the past fortnight I've probably taken one shower and a sponge bath of sorts.
My mood has been wavering but overall I'm not dramatically depressed but I'm not happy either. I'm in a strange inner space between the two.
Everyone can see I'm on autopilot, it's no secret. I make as much effort as is required of me to get by and no more. I don't even feel like it's my life anymore. It's really quite surreal.
I'm jut not engaged with anything or anyone at this point in time. Frankly I could simulataneously win the Euromillions and a Nobel Peace Prize and I doubt you'd get so much as a raised eyebrow from me.
I am firmly in neutral. I don't want to be. I really can't afford to be. But those are the facts.
Saturday I crashed hard. It started okay. I managed to have an almost jokey spirit. Somewhere around 4pm though it all came tumbling down. And like humpty dumpty there was no putting the pieces back together again. My mind must have known there was no going back so enter hibernation I did. On and off till about 2am. Then my brother came into the room and we caught up on that night's Penn and Teller: Fool Us, though I was still half asleep.
I still managed to eventually nod back off somewhere around 4am and refused to get out of bed before 13:30. Which of course is totally the opposite of what I should be doing. At least according to any doctor I've ever seen. Sometimes though you just get tired of fighting it and you just don't have the energy. it's also a fine balancing act to know when to keep pushing forward and when to retreat. Going full steam ahead all day every day inevitably brings on a meltdown. Then again perhaps it's because I allow myself the weekends to wallow that maintaining is so hard, perhaps it would get easier if I just did get out every day regardless of how I felt. It's all just a roll of the dice at the end of the day and you're bound to get it as much wrong as you do right.
It's just all rather blah. And I'm sat here thinking about all the things I should be doing and I can't muster the energy to give two hoots about.
For all I know there are new and fuzzy lifeforms forming on top of my dishes and cutlery but I'd prefer that it stayed out of sight and mind. Actually I'd prefer it if someone swung by and took care of it so i wouldn't have to. I don't want to worry about it. And i can't really be bothered to do anything about it.
I can't be bothered to do a lot of things when I feel this way. Washing and getting dressed are two of them. In the past fortnight I've probably taken one shower and a sponge bath of sorts.
My mood has been wavering but overall I'm not dramatically depressed but I'm not happy either. I'm in a strange inner space between the two.
Everyone can see I'm on autopilot, it's no secret. I make as much effort as is required of me to get by and no more. I don't even feel like it's my life anymore. It's really quite surreal.
I'm jut not engaged with anything or anyone at this point in time. Frankly I could simulataneously win the Euromillions and a Nobel Peace Prize and I doubt you'd get so much as a raised eyebrow from me.
I am firmly in neutral. I don't want to be. I really can't afford to be. But those are the facts.
Saturday I crashed hard. It started okay. I managed to have an almost jokey spirit. Somewhere around 4pm though it all came tumbling down. And like humpty dumpty there was no putting the pieces back together again. My mind must have known there was no going back so enter hibernation I did. On and off till about 2am. Then my brother came into the room and we caught up on that night's Penn and Teller: Fool Us, though I was still half asleep.
I still managed to eventually nod back off somewhere around 4am and refused to get out of bed before 13:30. Which of course is totally the opposite of what I should be doing. At least according to any doctor I've ever seen. Sometimes though you just get tired of fighting it and you just don't have the energy. it's also a fine balancing act to know when to keep pushing forward and when to retreat. Going full steam ahead all day every day inevitably brings on a meltdown. Then again perhaps it's because I allow myself the weekends to wallow that maintaining is so hard, perhaps it would get easier if I just did get out every day regardless of how I felt. It's all just a roll of the dice at the end of the day and you're bound to get it as much wrong as you do right.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)