Bowling With Borderline Lil

ding dong merrily on high

2011-12-23T12:44:00.002+08:00

I wanted to pop in and say g'day and wish all my readers and friends a safe and happy Christmas - and if happiness is too much to ask for, I wish you peace and calm and a nice stiff drink.

Things with me are good, though there's been no positive news on the job front. I've had an interview for a terrific job but have not heard back - apparently things in government departments move very slowly, especially at this time of year. I still live in hope. Meantime, I am plodding away at my data entry job for another hour and then I have 11 days off - hooray!! Once I come back from break I should only have another ten days here before I leave - although my boss wants me to stay on until I find something else.

I'm looking forward to Christmas in some ways, and dreading it in others. The pressure of family and social activity is acute, as we all know, this time of year. I love the food, though, and the presents. My awesome friend H sent me a huge box of presents which I can't wait to open, and there are some others under the tree at home that look interesting. I went overboard shopping for Neil as usual, mostly DVDs, clothes and a laser pointer so he can play with Charly and Roxy the cats. I hope he likes everything I got him.

Because I'm on leave I might not be on the computer so much for the next couple of weeks, but I'll update you when I return. Meantime, take care of yourselves and be well. Thank you for all your support this year, the madosphere means the world to me and all of you in it xxx

what doesn't kill you makes you stronger

2011-12-05T14:55:00.005+08:00

I've been applying for new jobs, as this INTERMINABLE contract I'm stuck in finally finishes in January. I started here in March, on a three month data entry job, and am still here nine long, boring, pointless months later. I'm really bad at this job, as I've said here before. Well, not REALLY bad. But not brilliant, which is rare, as I usually over-perform and show off and am the star employee. I just can't get my head around the logistical nature of this data, and sometimes make errors. My boss is really nice but has to point out said errors.

Sigh

Anyway, one of the outcomes of this dreadful job (apart from the fact that I miss so many days of work due to hating it...) is that my employment mojo is completely gone. I want to stay in government and have been browsing the job sites, but even when I clearly CAN do the job, part of me says "no you can't, you're crap". This is partly due to our old friends depression and low self-esteem, but I think a big part of it is my current experience. I've never been rubbish at a job )-: I am such an over-achiever, perfectionist type that even from school days I've wanted to be the best student/employee as well as the most popular. Until I get bored anyway...

I feel like I am at a major crossroads in my career, where I need to step up and find something challenging and interesting that I can achieve in. That's why I left my last proper job, the part-time one, because I wanted something more. And lord help me, I got trapped here in data entry, leather elbow hell.

Sigh

I also struggle with applying for government jobs because of the selection criteria. I don't know if they have them in other countries, but in Oz every government job requires you to address a set of attributes, showing how you have that attribute and using examples. Sometimes they're easy like "good communication skills" but other ones are extremely specific and technical and hard to waffle/bluff about.

In other news, I put up our Christmas tree. This is pretty big news, as it's the first time I've done it since I left Mr Ex - and when we were together, HE insisted on doing it and was extremely anal about it, and HATED tinsel. Bah humbug. Needless to say, this year I added tinsel. I used some of my decorations and some of Neil's, so it's a genuine combination tree for our first Christmas living together (-:

All it needs now is some presents underneath, which I am intending to wrap tonight. I'm feeling quite in the mood for Christmas this year, although I will miss the month's vacation that I used to get with my last job! In this job, I get a week off which is nice. The family are spending three days at a resort, with Christmas lunch in a restaurant, so it should be less stressful than previous years. We are spending Boxing Day with Neil's best friends, whom I also adore, which will be great fun. I am trying hard to be positive, and stay motivated. Fight, fight, fight!!

bounce

2011-11-30T12:40:00.003+08:00

First I was bad. Then I was great. Now I'm just in limbo. And by that I don't mean the fun game played with a broomstick. I mean that awful nothing state, where the slightest push can send me rocketing either way. It's like being on the crest of a rollercoaster and knowing that the plummet to darkness is just a millimetre away. I feel like if I try hard enough I will be able to get the happy place back.

The three day Ignite Your Life course was amazing. It inspired me, and challenged me, and since then I've been feeling more positive and worthwhile and able to change. I've been less depressed, not at all suicidal and had more energy. Until... Until. Until. Until. There's always an "until" isn't there? Or an "and then/but then". I'm so grateful for the two and a half weeks of strength and sanity but WHY does it have to end? Monday morning dawned and my old friend lethargy was back, with apathy and self-loathing not far behind. Of course I could have, and should have, used the strategies I learned in the course to change my mental state and try to motivate myself... Instead I spent the next two days in bed feeling the old depression envelop me. I guess I felt comforted in some way, it's easier to slip back into old patterns than try to develop new ones, right?

I'm frustrated that I am not "cured".

I know that it's impossible, but I still kind of wanted it.

Even though I am the first to tell people you need to work hard at recovery and illness management, in the end I am a lazy SOB who wanted an easy way out.

The teachers I met at Ignite Your Life would say I'm using the mental illness, depression, suicide "game" to try and gain attention, connection with others, and self-worth. They're right, because while I definitely have mental illness, it's my choice how that illness manifests itself and how far I let it take hold of my life. I definitely had a choice Monday morning and I made the choice to remain trapped in the depression cycle.

All I can do now is try to switch my mental state and embrace happy, energising, positive thoughts. Which might be (IS!) tiring, but is certainly within my capabilities. I'll let you know how it goes :-D

the only way to get there is to go straight down

2011-11-07T12:36:00.002+08:00

Lately I've been wishing for a BPD episode. Anything to shake up the dank, dreary depression that's threatening to block out the whole world. I remember hypomania with fondness... I miss anger, rage, fury - emotions of any kind - as lately I seem to be a blank/black canvas. I'm barely managing to keep my job, getting to work about two days out of five, spending the rest of my time sleeping. I used to blame my anaemia for the sleeping... but lately I've realised that the iron infusion must have kicked in by now, and therefore depression is probably the cause. If I'm honest, this spell of depression has been creeping up on me for months, starting before I raised my Cymbalta level to 120mg. Changing that medication has done nothing, supporting the research I keep reading about which says doses higher than 60mg are pointless.

I don't get paid for the days I'm having off, so I haven't been able to afford to see Doc A. But I'm making the effort this week, and scraping the cash together, as the situation is getting dire. I know he will suggest starting Lamotrigine, as that was one of his suggestions last time. I don't know why I'm on the fence about Lamotrigine...part of it is the cost, especially now I'm verging on unemployed, and part of it is because it's always been in reserve. For "just in case". If I start using Lamotrigine, what will I have left for next time the medication fails me??? More Lamotrigine I suppose.

I spent another day in hospital last week, having upper and lower gastrointestinal tract exams to check for bleeding. Nothing showed up, so my anaemia is unexplained. The haematologist believes it's related to my weight loss surgery. Regardless of the cause, I am still as light-headed and exhausted as ever. I have the Ignite Your Life course this weekend, Friday to Sunday, and I'm dreading it. I have no idea how I will manage to be upfront, present and awake for all those hours, when I usually spend half the weekend asleep. I'm desperate for some relief from this depression, though, and anecdotal evidence suggests this course can provide it. My parents and brother have done the course, and found it inspiring and energising and claim there were a few people who were previously medicated for depression (unipolar and bipolar) that now no longer need medication. I'm skeptical. And don't intend to give up my medication for anyone/anything. I'm a true believer, even though at the moment it doesn't seem to be doing much for me.

I was talking to my family about this course a couple of weeks ago and confessed that I really don't think the course organisers will have come across anyone as lunatic as me. Anyone as recidivist and recalcitrant. Are they prepared for someone whose only goal in life is to not complete suicide? They sent out this pre-course questionnaire and it had all these questions like "What are you most proud of?", "Name four emotional states you regularly experience", "What are your motivations for doing this course". Even reading the questions made me exhausted and hopeless. "How would you describe yourself" was one, and my immediate answer was "fat, fucked, failure". I can't decide if right now is the best or worst time for Ignite Your Life... most of me, the hopeful part, believes that things happen for the right reasons, and therefore it must be the best time. I really, truly hope to experience some life-altering changes. I can't wait to update you all next week.

I'm sorry I haven't been commenting as much on your blogs as I have in the past. I feel like anything I say will be negative and pointless, so often I will stay silent. But I'm still reading, and I hope everyone who's going through a hard time right now will soon be on an upswing. Lots of love to all xx

while your blood counts its losses

2011-10-18T12:57:00.005+08:00

It's been a while. Up and down, up and down. I had my iron infusion last Monday, which was terrifically fast service. Unfortunately, it ended up costing me $814 because my private health insurance wouldn't pay (I haven't been with the insurance company for 12 months which is the qualification period). Luckily I have a supportive partner with some cash reserves who could lend me the money! He agreed with me that waiting to qualify under insurance (March next year) wasn't feasible, and we have to get this anaemia fixed asap. So I spent 6 hours in a comfy reclining chair in hospital, in the ward with the chemo patients, being pumped full of iron. Apparently I will start to feel better in 2/3 weeks. I had no side effects to the infusion, which is awesome. They served me lunch and coffee and cake, and I had a television to amuse me as well as my iPhone.

The next day I felt a little under the weather (which is expected after an infusion, you get kind of like a flu with aches and pains - weird, huh?) but decided I would go to work. However, on the way to the bus stop I was attacked by a neighbour's dog who had escaped through the fence. At first it was just growling and barking so I kept walking but then it latched on to my thigh!! OUCH!! Needless to say, I screamed and it backed off. A nice man from another house came out to see if I was okay and I rang Neil (who was on night shift and still sleeping) and the man helped me get back to my street (avoiding the dog which was still lurking). Neil took me to the hospital as there were three puncture wounds and a huge bruise already forming (and that was after being bitten through denim jeans!! Imagine on a baby's face...ugh). They washed it out and bandaged me up, my tetanus shots were up to date so that was that. I couldn't believe it was two says in a row I was in hospital! For the local readers, Hollywood Private Hospital day one, Swan Districts day two!

All up I ended up not going to work for 4 days last week. Here's what the bite wound looked like a couple of days ago...

Admittedly, the bruising wouldn't be quite so impressive if I wasn't anaemic! I was glad the puncture wounds didn't bleed too much after having $814 worth of iron put in there the day before LOL.

My mental state has been quite badly affected by all this. I'm feeling extremely sorry for myself and guilty because the dog ended up being euthenaised (sp?) as the owners wouldn't pay for it to be registered when the Council came to check on it. Neil wants me to get legal advice and pursue a damages claim for lost earnings, and stress, but I just want to put the whole thing behind me. I get a little nervous now when I see loose dogs on the street, even small ones, and I'm worried that the neighbours will do something to retaliate against us. They are already "bad" neighbours in that they are extremely messy with junk all over their lawn and often have shouting matches in the street. The neighbours themselves clearly have no money or insurance but their home is owned by the government and the government department will have public liability insurance we could claim under. But is it worth it for a couple of thousand dollars? The woman has six kids under the age of ten and enough stress already. Sigh.

Anyway, that's my update. I'm having a difficult year!

Post title is from the same Horrible Crowes song as last time, Blood Loss. Thought it was relevant (-:

sirens they come, sirens they go

2011-10-03T10:37:00.005+08:00

Post title is from another Horrible Crowes song "Blood Loss".

I had a fantastic time in Melbourne. Since I've been back, however, the darkness has been trying hard to claim me again. I ended up having another week off work after I got back, simply because getting out of bed was too difficult, too painful. I can't decide if what I'm feeling is simple exhaustion, due to the anemia, or the return of depression my old friend/foe. All I know is it's fracking hard to accomplish anything, and days will pass without showering, speaking to anyone except Neil (and then it's just the basic exhange of words), or eating anything apart from caramel biscuits.

Didn't you all LOVE this card from PostSecret this week?

I think this is what's going on for Neil at the moment. He seems to have given up trying to inspire or encourage me to get my arse out of bed and to work. He said to me the other day "I'm scared of pushing you over the edge", and I felt so damn guilty... I'm constantly aware of the fact that he lost his dad and his brother to suicide and that he must worry so much about me. I just can't seem to get motivated enough to get moving.

I have a couple of hopeful moments ahead of me. I see a haematologist tomorrow about my anaemia and he will book me in for an iron tranfusion. This entails being hooked up to an IV for six hours in hospital while I'm pumped full of iron. A couple of people I know swear by these transfusions and I'm praying that I get booked in for one in the next few weeks. Having more physical energy must have a positive effect on my mental pain. The other thing is my parents and my brother are paying for me to do a course entitled "Ignite Your Life" - a three day course in self-development and transformation that the three of them have done in the past, and which they swear will have an amazing effect on my life and attitude. I'm slightly cynical, even though I've seen the difference in them and it's pretty profound. I really hope to gain benefit from the course, and maybe finally have clarity in my path in life. I have a fantastic relationship with Neil, and for that I am eternally grateful, but pretty much everything else in my life is dismal. "Ignite Your Life" runs from November 11 - 13.

I'm sorry I've been absent from this page for so long. It's been hard to know what to say, when all I've been feeling is BLAH. But despite my gloomiest of outlooks, there is still a persistent, hopeful chink of light at the end of this tunnel. And that's what keeps me going, slow and steady.

behold the hurricane

2011-10-03T09:52:00.003+08:00

The only saving grace in the darkness of the last few weeks is the album "Elsie" by the Horrible Crowes. Behold the Hurricane is the amazing song/filmclip from the album and I'm going to share it with y'all cause it really spoke to me.

addicted to a certain kind of sadness

2011-08-30T16:27:00.003+08:00

Tomorrow afternoon I leave for my girly weekend with H in Melbourne. I'm really looking forward to:
a) being away from work (and early wakeup calls)
b) seeing H
c) being in Melbourne

I love Melbourne. It's on the other side of Australia from Perth, for those who don't know, and it may as well be a different country in some ways. It's far more "arty" and cosmopolitan, the food is AWESOME and they have trams, which I love. I'm going to be there almost a week.

I'm not looking forward to:
a) being away from Neil (who is going to Cairns, Queensland, for a gambling weekend with his poker buddies)
b) leaving Charly (beloved feline) in the care of the slacker stepson J
c) meeting a lot of H's friends and being super social

Being with H is great, she is a gorgeous girl and understands me and my mental health issues. I'm a bit nervous about her friends, but am hoping they are laidback and not too exhausting. I am worried about my energy levels as they are still really low with the iron deficiency. I guess I will just pace myself and not overdo it. I'll have a lot of time on my own as H is working except for the two weekend days. I have plans to sightsee and shop and maybe get a massage.

I might not be able to blog or visit y'all while I'm away from work for ten days. I will try and check in now and again, partly because I will suffer withdrawal symptoms without it!

My title for today is from my favourite song at the moment - Gotye's Somebody That I Used To Know. Great Aussie songwriter.

spend your time biting your own neck

2011-08-09T09:17:00.003+08:00

(Title from Mumford & Sons Little Lion Man)

It's really quite a challenge to separate my other blog, the weight removal one, from this one. I feel like my journey to fitness and healthy eating is directly related to my journey to sanity. Which is, I suppose, why I am consulting mental health specialists to help with curtailing my emotional eating and bingeing. Which is, I suppose, the battle a lot of us face -- the entertwined illnesses of ED and MH, two evil parasites fighting for control over our mind and body.

Rather than talk in weight, I'll tell you, beloved readers, that in six weeks of this health and wellness program I've shifted my BMI from 47 to 43.4. A downward movement which no doubt will improve my health. I'm still morbidly obese (I kind of like that term...because I AM morbid, in the sense that I'm precoccupied with death LOL) but I'm getting healthier. My goal BMI is probably around 29, which is still overweight but suits my build and my physical health I think.

In general, life has been fairly positive for me since I last wrote. I am planning my vacation to visit my best friend H in Melbourne, which takes place Aug 31 - Sept 6. Three weeks tomorrow - yippee! We are going to eat, drink, gossip and fire each other up in our respective life challenges. I got a fairly large tax refund due to my low income earner status, and therefore am fairly comfortable with money just now. Neil and I are planning a trip overseas next year to Singapore and Thailand, which will be frickin AWESOME and gives me something to work towards with my fitness and saving money.

Apart from a couple of shaky moments, my mental health has been strong. I haven't needed to take Valium for weeks, and the 120mg Cymbalta and 100mg Solian seem to be keeping me stable. I do think the healthier eating has made a difference, and the small amount of exercise. I am hoping to increase my exercise. I've been doing a self-hypnosis/meditation CD that my hypnotherapist gave me which is helping me to sleep, and to curb my overeating. My contract at work has been extended for another couple of months, which is both good and bad. I am happy to not have to look for another contract, but the job is rather boring and I have no friends )-: Basically, aside from the polite hello and goodbye, no-one speaks to me all day. On one hand it's low stress and peaceful, but it kind of drives me mad. After all these months I'm getting bored. And boredom is always dangerous for BPDs.

Things at home are lovely. I adore Neil more every day, and if it wasn't for his slacker teenage son everything would be perfect. But I guess every situation has its challenges! Neil has been super-supportive of my health kick, although he still suggests takeaway now and again. I've been having takeaway occasionally, because at least this way I am incorporating all kinds of food rather than avoiding or restricting too much.

I really do believe that my mental state is a rollercoaster, and I happen to be cruising through an "up" phase. But I am enjoying it while it lasts. It's a relief to feel balanced and relatively positive about things.

dancing with myself

2011-07-21T13:04:00.002+08:00

Since I last wrote a few things of note have happened.

1. I went to hospital with what turned out to be a gallbladder attack. I have gallstones, lots of them, and will probably have to have the gallbladder out sometime in the next year. Because of my weight being over 120kg I can only be operated on in the two largest public hospitals in Perth which means an extended time on the waiting list. Or I wait until my private health insurance matures in March 2012. Hopefully I can just avoid another attack. It was the most excrutiating pain. One of my BFs (who has four kids and had her gallbladder out last year) says it's a pain worse than childbirth.

2. Neil and I went out to dinner to celebrate one year together! I had a smallish steak and salad and a cocktail, which didn't interrupt my healthy eating plan too much. So far (almost 3 weeks) I've lost 5kg, which is something to celebrate too.

3. Mood wise, I have been hanging in there. Weirdly, or perhaps not so weird, it seems that eating better has improved my state of mind. Probably the extra dosage of Cymbalta is also working. Needless to say, the suicidal thoughts and desperate jitters have subsided and I haven't needed to take a Valium for a couple of weeks now. Phew. Crisis averted?

4. I saw on Catherine's Marmite on Toast blog that she had a link to her 43 Things. Having wanted to do a "Bucket List" for a while, I took the opportunity to copy the lovely Catherine and do my own 43 Things. You can find it here. Some of the things I intend to do while on this earth are: become a runner, visit South America, learn swing dancing, drink more water and meet Joshua Jackson!!! An eclectic mix LOL.

My apologies for such a dull, pedestrian post. Such is my life just now, and I must say I'm somewhat relieved.

every tear's a waterfall

2011-07-07T11:22:00.003+08:00

I made a momentous decision last week. I decided that enough was enough with regard to my binge eating and weight gain and have re-started my healthy eating and weight removal journey. I feel self-conscious and triggery talking about it, knowing that a number of my friends in the madosphere are dealing with eating disorders and the like. But it had to be done, guys.

Three and a half years ago I paid a LOT of money to have weight loss surgery and while I lost weight (50kg/100 pounds), I've since regained a significant amount. My bingeing is out of control. I am obsessed with junk food. I eat for comfort, boredom, relaxation. These things are not healthy, and I've kind of let them go while I worked on some mental health issues.

Now I'm relatively stable, mentally, I am hoping to find the wherewithall to tackle my eating.

I've restarted my other blog, renaming it Borderline Lil's Losing Weight. Feel free to visit over there www.lastchancelil.blogspot.com or not. I won't be offended!

I am on meal replacement shakes/bars at the moment, which is a medical intervention for obesity and only supposed to be used under supervision. It's a very low calorie (approx 800 cal per day) diet, with the only solid food I'm eating being two cups of low starch vegies per day. So far (this is day six) it's going okay. There's an element of relief...I HATE my addiction to food, my obsessive behaviour towards it, so I'm glad to have the decision making on my meals taken away for now. Reintroducing food, in 12 weeks, will be a challenge I'm sure.

I'm planning to go back for a visit to my weight loss surgeon Gorgeous Jon to see if I need revision of my surgery, or how he can help me otherwise.

I'm fairly certain I have stretched out my reduced stomach, and whether this can be fixed or not, I've no idea. The meal replacement diet will help that, I hope. And I have completely removed junk food and takeaway from my life for now, even though in the end I hope to occasionally be able to enjoy it without going to extremes.

I have also made an appointment with a binge eating specialist, who does hypnotherapy and NLP (neuro-linguistic programming). I've ordered a binge eating book from the internet which is recommended by a lot of doctors and pdocs - it's based in CBT and has a complete programme that goes with it.

What's funny is that I KNOW THIS IS BPD-esque ALL OR NOTHING THINKING!!! But I've decided to USE the all or nothing extreme behaviour in my favour for once, and do something proactive. I'm trying to positively channel my obsessiveness into weight loss and healthy eating.

This is just an update, and I don't imagine I will talk much on this blog about the health plan. I am conscious of my ED friends and their issues, and would never want to negatively affect them/you. But I wanted to share this big change with my friends! And I hope you will all wish me luck (-:

Happy Birthday to My Pixie-Love

2011-06-29T09:08:00.003+08:00

Hope your day is special like you. Thank you for your friendship xx

pictures of you

2011-06-27T15:32:00.004+08:00

My new profile pic was taken at Roller Derby on the 18th of June. I made some streamers from crepe paper for my team The Bloody Sundaes (who won by one point - yay!).

This is a picture of me and my sweetie taken in Melbourne earlier this year.

Happy Belated US Father's Day. Our Father's Day is celebrated in September, I have no idea why! Here are Neil and Charly sharing a kiss (-:

Just felt like sharing those with you all. In other news, my mood is still low. This morning I did not want to go to work, was dreading it, and all the way here on the bus and train I was thinking about getting off, going to a bottle shop (off-licence) and buying a litre bottle of vodka and then lying down in a park or cemetery somewhere. My bus passes a nice cemetery. It's lush and green and has lots of those very old headstones with the worn-off writing. It looks peaceful in there.

I have two reasons for NOT adding Lamogitrine/Lamictal to my medicinal regime. One, I know it's expensive as it's not on the PBS except if you need it for epilepsy. Recently I found out Sairs from This Lunatic Express is stopping taking it because it's so expensive. SO frustrating when medicine we need is not subsidised by the government. My second reason is that I want to keep Lamictal "up my sleeve" for the next time Cymbalta poops out and stops working. If I start Lamictal now, then what will happen to me in six, twelve months time when I need extra meds??

But I am wondering if the extra Cymbalta is making much difference. I feel perhaps 20% better some of the time. Maybe I just need to give it more time. It's been what...two weeks? Three? I think I need to keep going with it for at least six weeks in order to get the full benefit of the increase. I need to work harder with my thought processes to calm myself and control my impulses.

A good thing that happened last week was my birthday presents from my bestie H arrived from Melbourne. They are awesome!! She sent me this hilarious book called The Action Heroine's handbook, which shows you how to wrestle a man with your bare legs, jump out of a moving train, make molotov cocktails and lots more action heroine stuff. It's great. Another book she sent me is a travel guide for Bangkok as Neil and I are planning a trip to Thailand next November. The parcel included a Hello Kitty furry beanie, Barbie stationery, Bio Oil, a Buddha and heaps more. She is definitely my favourite gift giver! H recently started a blog, by the way, called For The Good, The Bad & The Fugly. Her blogger name is Rainbow B and you should check it out. She's not quite as mental as me and probably will swear more because I try not to in blogland (even though I am a potty mouth in real life).

I went out to the movies last night with my ex-housemate and another one of my BFFs (I have three), Michelle. We saw Bridesmaids and cacked ourselves laughing. It was really funny, and a little crass, and had an adorably cute guy in it. Which always helps! I am incredibly lucky to have my three real-life besties. I thank the universe for them every day. Especially H and Michelle, who both know what it's like to suffer from depression and anxiety. I also adore my blogworld friends, who get me and know me just as well but in different ways. H and I are real-life friends now, but we met in blog world through a Dr Phil website in 2005. So you never know where our awesome blog friendships will end up! I am hoping some day to get to the US/Canada and UK to meet some of my blog pals. And over to the eastern states of Australia to meet up with Sairs and Bec and Miz PRN!

always the young to fall

2011-06-17T15:53:00.003+08:00

Thanks to Linda, the lovely owner of the blog Blue Skies, Coudy Days, and clever Pixie from Cloud Illusions, politics has been on my mind. I'm not one for soap boxing, or discussing politics at all really. I tend to agree with Linda, who says that politics these days is about "lies and greed", but I also agree with her comment that veterans deserve respect and admiration for their sacrifice and bravery. It seems that now, even more than in the Vietnam Era, pointless and foolish conflicts are taking lives all over the world. Australians, along with people, mostly young people, from other countries. have recently lost their lives in Afghanistan.

After hearing the Buffy Sainte-Marie song at Linda's blog I was inspired to share my own protest song from the same 1960s era - I Ain't Marching Anymore by Phil Ochs. Phil's basic premise in this song is that if we all say "No" when asked to go to war, then there can be no war. Unfortunately, there are enough poor, disenfranchised, aimless, patriotic and aggressive souls out there at the moment to keep war going...

The way I fell in love with Phil Ochs was through my former love and soulmate I. Oliver. Once I learnt more about Phil I cared for his music even more. He was a prolific and passionate singer songwriter who fell into mental disarray in the 1970s. An alcoholic, diagnosed with bipolar disorder, Phil eventually committed suicide in 1976 when I was six years old - many years before my American boyfriend introduced me to him on an old eight track of his dad's.

Thanks Linda (and the original post at Blog Fodder) for reminding me about protest, sacrifice, and the potential we humans have for changing the world. To quote Linda : Those of us who still believe in social justice, freedom, and caring for our fellow beings around the world, can still come together and change things.

Power to the people indeed.

ain't nobody who can sing like me

2011-06-17T08:20:00.003+08:00

The improvement is slight but it's definite. A few days ago I started taking my Cymbalta at night instead of when I wake up, as I thought it might help with the early morning moodiness. Although my sleep has suffered, and I wake up more easily through the night and don't feel as "rested", there seems to be a marked difference in my morning attitude. Whether this is just because the increase to 120mg has started to work (Doc A said it would take a week to feel 10% better), who knows, but I'm grateful for the improvement. I don't feel the dragging, energy-sapping dread upon waking. I'm almost "perky". Well...almost!! I'm planning to continue the evening dose as long as I don't start waking up early (pre 6.30am), start to feel extra tired during the day, or get manic. I'm still averaging seven or eight hours of sleep a night which is less than I usually need but still plenty.

The last couple of days have seen the suicidal thoughts almost disappear. I can't describe what a relief that is, and anyone who has been there will know exactly what I mean. Part of the relief is that I now feel enthusiastic about my upcoming birthday (Sunday 19th). We have some great plans, so I was feeling very depressed about being depressed (LOL). Now, for the first time in quite a few weeks, I feel life coming back into my heart and mind and excitement starting to build. Hooray for turning 41! I have to say, so far being in my 40s has been wonderful (-: Meeting Neil was one of the best things to ever happen to me, and I'm so thankful he has put up with me and continued to be calm and stable and love me through this last bleak episode. I guess it really is true love!

My plans for my birthday are as follows: Saturday night we are going out to watch a Roller Derby bout with some of Neil's friends from work. Then the two of us will go on to a strip club, just for a laugh and to hopefully get in the mood for some hijinks in the bedroom *blush*. We've been to this particular club before and enjoyed some lapdancing; Neil loves the fact that I am openminded and keen on this kind of thing. The girls there are really nice and sweet, and are always extra friendly to women. On Sunday we are going out to the movies to see Super 8 (even though I am petrified of aliens and I think this movie is about aliens!!) and then out for a pizza dinner with my parents. Monday night I am going out with Michelle to see Bridesmaids, which I can't wait to see. I've heard so many good things about it! So all in all I think the next few days are going to be super fun. One of the things I love most about my birthday is my friend H always sends me the BEST presents. Well, last year she was visiting so she gave them to me in person, but as she lives in a different state she usually posts them and isn't it fun to get packages in the mail?? I LOVE it. We are both into the same girly, selfhelp, pink, Barbie, princessy type things so I always love her presents. She spoils me rotten.

I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but thank you SO MUCH to everyone who commented on the last few posts. I hadn't realised that I was having some BPD issues with Neil until your comments pointed it out, so massive thanks. Big hugs to my darling Kate (Lucid Intervals), BPDisme2, Shattered One (Walking the Borderline), Afton (In the Pink), Pixie (Cloud Illusions), Saracide (Borderline Psychobabble), Sairs (This Lunatic Express), Linda (Blue Skies, Cloudy Days), D'Artagnan (Living in Iowa), and a smiley welcome to Lola (Moose Lips Sink Ships) and www.friendtoyourself.com

I really love Billy Bragg, and he recorded a great song with the band Wilco called Way Over Yonder in The Minor Key (previous post title). The second line to the chorus is "ain't nobody who can sing like me", hence the title for today. The song was used nicely in the recent rom com movie Love and Other Drugs, which starred the gorgeous Anne Hathaway. Did anyone see the film? I thought the themes were interesting, especially how much time, money and energy went into finding a successful drug to "cure" male impotence compared to drugs to cure Parkinsons Disease (and also, I believe, to find cures for illnesses like depression, and other girly things like PMT haha).

That's all from me for now, and I can't help but be hopeful that my positive mood lasts and that the next post will be just as sparkly. Wishing you all love, happiness and peace xx

way over yonder in the minor key

2011-06-14T14:29:00.003+08:00

Struggle aplenty, I continue to fight for air. Yesterday was diabolical from the minute I woke up, with panic constricting head and heart. It took me an hour extra to get ready for work and actually go. Stomach was heaving and roiling, hands shaking. What if something happens to me on the way to work...what if it doesn't...

All the while Neil was kind and supportive and trying so damn hard. I wanted to hit him with the bedside lamp. I wanted to scream at him "This is all your fault, if you didn't have such a tragic history with suicide I could just kill myself already!"

Instead I said to him, semi-rational: "We should break up, you deserve better, you deserve someone normal and balanced who doesn't worry you." He made all the right noises, told me he adores me the way I am and admires me for coping so well most of the time. But who knows if we'll actually get through this dark time. He loves me, of course he loves me, but love...it's a fucking joke. It's not enough ammunition against BPD and depression, and I should know because I already lost one man who loved me against the odds. Mr Ex worshipped me, and tried his damnedest, but in the end the illness maimed and claimed the relationship and then stood laughing in the wreckage.

I am trying to calm my mind with meditative thoughts and to ease the nausea and shaking with breathing exercises. It feels somewhat like shuffling deck chairs on the Titanic. I am trying to be confident that the Cymbalta will kick in...soon...any minute now...

born to try

2011-06-10T10:13:00.005+08:00

Updating on yesterday's post, I'm feeling slightly stronger. I laid it all on the line to Doc A and he was angry I hadn't let him know sooner. I told him I struggle with my identity in therapy - for instance, he often tells me I am the "perfect" patient, or a "good" patient, and I hate to let him down and lose that validation. I don't want to admit to him that I am suffering suicidal thoughts, or languishing in the doldrums. It's really stupid. Honesty is the cornerstone of therapy, after all, so I'm accomplishing nothing by lying or avoiding the truth.

Anyway, after asking a lot of questions about potential triggers and behaviours, Doc A decided that this latest slump of mine is not BPD related, and in fact is "simple" biological depression. So the solution is medication tweaking - I am testing out 120mg of Cymbalta daily for the next week and if that has no effect I have a prescription for Lamotrigine/Lamictal. Which I would take in addition to the Cymbalta. I feel kind of trendy, even being considered for Lamotrigine, because I know a few other bloggers who take it and it seems to be quite successful. Apparently there is a well-known side effect of "Lamotrigine rash", and if that occurs I have to stop taking it. I'm hoping that the extra Cymbalta does the trick, because that way I have the Lamotrigine in reserve for any future episodes. It truly sucks the way that medication "poops out" (Doc A says this is the technical term LOL) and our brain chemistry works its way around our meds. I wish it was as simple as finding one medication and sticking to it for the rest of my life. I know I'm not alone, but in the last seven years I've taken eight different anti-depressants and an anti-psychotic. Apart from the meds, I've also tried Kava, St John's Wort and Valerian. Then when you add to that the hypnotherapy, acupuncture, Chinese medicine, naturopathy, etc, it's all a little overwhelming. I know y'all can relate!!

I ended up telling Neil about my suicidal thoughts; even though I knew it would worry him I couldn't keep lying. I'm pathologically honest these days after The Marriage That Truth Forgot. He was concerned, and interested in what Doc A had to say, and ultimately said he was happy I had confided in him. We're both confident that the extra medication will help level out my moods.

In other health news, I have an appointment with Dr Paul (my lupus specialist) on June 29th and am on the waiting lists at three hospitals for my gastroscopy/colonoscopy to check for ulcers/polyps/etc. I've been on iron supplements for a couple of weeks and I feel slightly less tired (which could be the caffiene tablets I'm taking!) and breathless. I feel like my health, both mental and physical, is a waiting game at the moment. Just need to be patient and see how it pans out... Need I point out that patience is NOT one of my virtues (-:

Thank you so much to everyone who commented on yesterday's post, and to Linda who posted a great song on her blog for me. It means so much that people are listening and understanding xx

(NB: Born To Try is a song by an Aussie called Delta Goodrem, who I believe appeared on the US version of Dancing With The Stars recently.)

down among the dead men

2011-06-09T13:07:00.004+08:00

Sometimes it's a hard life. I'm really struggling today, and had to take not one but two Valium in order to calm myself down enough to stay at work. All I could think about was running away. Pills, alcohol, car accidents, suicide, hospitals. Now, in the deadened calm of the diazepam, I just feel hollow and numb. Relief. I've been listening to some comedy TV shows on my iPhone to try and penetrate the gloom. Thankfully, I have my monthly appointment with Doc A this afternoon so am leaving work an hour early. I'm going to ask for more Valium (he reluctantly gave me a 20 tablet script last month which I haven't used yet but I'm worried I am going to need more). I'm wondering if he'll offer me more Cymbalta, as I'm on 90mg daily and there's evidence a higher dose might work better. I think I need a referral to a psychologist to work more intensely on CBT.

The suicidal ideation and self-harm is a real concern for me. It's been getting worse over the last few weeks. The other day I gathered all the pills in the house (and there are a lot, as Neil's mum gives us packets of her prescription-only high strength pain medication - don't ask me why!) and seriously considered taking them. I wanted to sleep forever, or end up away from everything in hospital. I'm annoyed with myself for the urge to run away. In the end, I could not do that to Neil. His dad gassed himself in the family car when Neil was in his 20s and ten years later his brother eventually hung himself after a few attempted overdoses. When he finally succeeded, it was Neil who went around to the house and found his brother's body. I just can't do that to him again. He deserves better than me. I wish I was healthy for him as well as for me.

I wonder what he must really think of me, now that we live together and he sees my daily struggle. Struggle to get out of bed, wash, dress, go to work, cook, clean, converse... Do I remind him of his dead brother, weak father, depressed mother... Does he compare me to his previous crackpot girlfriends... I don't doubt he loves me, but I worry sometimes how easy it is for pity to creep in.

Flash 'n the Pan had a hit in 1978 with a song by the same title as this post.

all the small things

2011-06-07T14:16:00.005+08:00

Here's a Cat Versus Human comic I had to share, as it emphasises to me why a lot of us mentally interesting folk love our kittehs and goggies (dogs for those of you unfamiliar with LOLcat lingo!).

My cat Charly is usually in two minds about my depression. She HATES me crying and sniffling but she loves to lay in bed with me for hours. Regardless, there is no doubt she makes me feel better most of the time. For this one of her middle names is "Prozac" (full name Charly Louise Feral Beryl Prozac S). I know I'm not alone, as I've read other bloggers comments on their pets and how beneficial they are to our mental health.

This is one of those "Gratitude" posts I'm trying out, and at the top of my list of things to be thankful for is animals -particularly cats. Here's some other stuff to be going on with...

REASONS TO SMILE

1. Animals, esp cats. And especially those viral videos I get sent like the one with the owl and the kitten playing, and the mama cat comforting the kitten who had a nightmare. Could those things get any cuter???

2. Buffy. We finished our seven season marathon, and as always I cried at the end. The girl power, all women are slayers, theme is just awesome. I wish I was as kick arse as Buffy and Willow!

3. Movies. My favourite past-time. I saw X Men First Class and it rocked!! Though disappointing that the female mutants were evil )-: I like Storm from the other movies, but she didn't make an appearance.

4. Neil. I'm the luckiest woman in the world, I swear. He is patient and kind and decent. And a hunk of spunk (Aussie slang for a hottie LOL).

5. No Doz (caffiene tablets). Thank you for keeping me alert and awake at work!!

6. Roller Derby. It's brilliant! We're going again on the day before my birthday - 18 June. Great present, huh?! Those women are so tough and cool!

7. My boss Jan (he's a man, it's pronounced "Yarn" - Polish origin). Even though I have had so many sick days lately, he's supportive and understanding. I never worry about calling him, I know he'll be ok and not make me feel guilty or lazy. He doesn't know about the mental illness, but I believe he would be okay with that too.

8. The Madosphere. I love my blogger friends, and learn new things and feel new things every day from your terrific writing. Keep it up guys!

I have some challenges in my life at the moment (having the flu on top of lupus, anaemia, etc, is not fun) but I'm glad I took the time to note some positives. I think I should write down some of this stuff and read it every morning when I wake up, because it's getting harder and harder to motivate myself to get the hell out of bed. Brain = fizzy, body = shaky but I am still fighting y'all!

Repost - Buddhism for the Mentally Interesting

2011-06-07T13:10:00.003+08:00

This post comes from This Compassionate Life, which is an excellent blog I recently came across via Bec's blog at me plus bipolar. I consider myself a Buddhist believer, even though I'm not practising. My mum and brother are both followers of the Mahayana Tibetan tradition so there's a lot of Buddhist thought and conversation when we all get together. I really liked this post, as it's simple and straight forward but contains a lot of good information. Here is an excerpt for those interested in Buddhism and how it might relate to mental illness, and please go and visit This Compassionate Life for even more interesting info...

Buddhism for the Mentally Interesting
This is part 2 of the post that began with Meditation for the Mentally Interesting a couple of weeks ago. Meditation in the Buddhist tradition, while eye-opening and supremely useful, is only one part of what Buddhism is all about. I dither about whether to call myself a Buddhist on a daily basis- some people say you need to believe in rebirth & karma to be a Buddhist, some people say you need to practice with a teacher- I don’t fit into either category. Either way, though, the fundamental concepts of Buddhism resonate deeply with me, and have been instrumental in shaping both my worldview and how I approach mental health and mental ill health. Here are the Buddhist ideas that have made the biggest impression on me from a mentalist point of view:

The Four Noble Truths
The Buddha’s basic teaching is summarized in what is known as the Four Noble Truths, which are:
1. Life is suffering (dukkha in Pali- suffering is only a loose translation)
2. The origin of suffering is craving (attachment to desires)
3. Suffering ends when craving ceases
4. Freedom from suffering can be attained by following the Eightfold Path (acquiring wisdom, practicing ethical conduct & training in mental development through right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness & right concentration)

That really is Buddhism in a nutshell- these four statements are layered in complexities, but they are also very simple. It seems obvious to me now that everybody suffers, no matter how healthy they are, how much money they have, how isolated or how loved they feel. As long as people cling to wanting more, wanting less or burying their heads in the sand (more on those three things later on), there is always going to be dukkha- ranging from the feeling that something’s not quite right to immense emotional suffering on both an individual and societal scale. My personal level of dukkha is on the more extreme end of that continuum, but emotional disorder or not, we’re all on there somewhere....
[EDIT]
...As I understand it, the concept of what is known as Buddha nature comes from Mahayana Buddhism (which is the branch of Buddhism that the Zen and Tibetan traditions sprang from.) In my opinion, for someone who struggles deeply with their mental health, it’s one of the most powerful Buddhist concepts because the idea is that everyone has the capacity to become awakened, to become a Buddha. To deeply see the nature of reality and have the poisons of craving, aversion and delusion fall away. Everyone can be free. And what’s more, you don’t have to change yourself in any way to do this- your true nature is already there, just waiting for you to wake up to it. If you want to try to think of it in Western terms- everyone is basically good.

Just think about that for a second, what that would mean. The idea of Buddha nature is so different to what is pervasive in our culture, informed as it is by the Christian concept of original sin; and it is, of course, so different to what my emotional brain regularly tells me about myself- that I’m a horrible, evil person, intrinsically bad, intrinsically broken. But Buddhism invites me not just to believe, but to experience the reality of my true nature for myself- as a constantly changing stream of life. There is nothing there for labels like ‘evil’ or ‘bad’ to cling to. There is just life; pure, unadulterated life. Experiencing life, really living in every moment, is the essence of Buddhism. That is why I practice.

Mad Cow

2011-05-26T15:54:00.002+08:00

I wrote a post yesterday which I then deleted. It's the first time I've done that, and some of you have asked about the missing entry. I guess it was clear from the couple of lines you could read that it was a low-mood mopey post, and those reading regularly will know anyway that I've been somewhat under the weather.

Once I'd written the post, I published it and then went to read it over for editing. Put simply, it sucked. It whined on about how attached I am to being ill, and how I feel envious of my blog friends who are currently "worse off" than me (with regards to ED, or being in hospital, etc). Utter crap, something I felt for a minute and then pretty much "got over". One thing I've learnt about myself is that I don't need to give voice to every thought and feeling I have. Some of them just aren't worth the air time. And that's what was going on yesterday. Even if I am feeling low, intellectually I know that I am okay and surviving, and I don't want to be in the grips of a fullblown BPD attack or major depression. I feel extremely sympathetic for my friends who have recently suffered relapses.

Today, I'm mostly just tired and lethargic. But, contrary to what was said in my previous/deleted post, I am not too tired to keep fighting. If fighting the good fight is all there is, then so be it. What are the alternatives? None.

who will sing me to sleep

2011-05-20T16:21:00.003+08:00

My gorgeous friend Pixie (she of the wicked blog Clouds and Illusions) introduced me recently to Kate Rusby, an amazing Yorkshire lass with a voice like an angel. The title of my second post of the day (unheard of!) is from her song "Who Will Sing me Lullabies". Almost as lovely a voice as Ms Pixie herself!

As lots of folk are, I'm preoccupied with death. I'm not sure if that's a result of, or a cause of, suicide attempts, but I tend to think it's linked. I also had a near death/out of body experience when I was 7 years old. I don't think it's healthy, to think about death and dying as much as I do... I realised the other day that my job is not helping me to change that focus. What I do each day is watch video of major roads in the state, and assess each road for hazards that may result in fatal car accidents. Basically I watch as a tree passes and decide "yes, that may kill someone if they crash into it". Then I record it on a spreadsheet. So my whole day is filled with thoughts and decisions about fatal car accidents. Death. I also have to make a record of roadside memorials. I guess they are all over the world? Where a family sets up a cross and shrine to mark where a family member (or members) have lost their lives in an accident? Cheerful work. NOT! No wonder I am morbid and preoccupied with death. No wonder I am afraid to get my drivers licence!

All the doctor talk about bleeding, ulcers, polyps and tumors doesn't help either. I realised today that I've never told my parents or Neil what song I want played at my funeral. Have I reiterated that I want to be an organ donor?? Have I told them I want to be cremated???

I thought I'd ask you guys what song you most want played at your funeral, if you've considered it. I think most of us have at some stage or another. My song is Moby's "We Are All Made of Stars".

like playing solitaire in a cyclone

2011-05-20T13:32:00.007+08:00

Sick, sick, sick.
Tired, tired, tired.

After three weeks of 100% attendance, I had yesterday off work. Just could not go. I know I don't need to explain this to anyone from the madosphere. Anxiety, depression, anger, self-injury, self-inflicted post-binge comedown...we've experienced it all, eh?? And there are any number of reasons to go back to bed and pull the covers up over our heads rather than get up and go to work. Sigh. I'm just so damnably SICK of being sick, physically and mentally. I'm completely over it. I sometimes look at people I know who have strong work ethics, positive attitudes and iron-clad constitutions and I just want to kill them!! Jealousy is overwhelming. I want to be really well, not just a little bit, copingly well. I want to have true energy, not fake caffiene-induced bursts of effort.

All this whinging does nothing, so I shall stop it. I went to see my doctor on Monday after work and he showed me the results of the blood tests, which aren't good. Not only am I in all likelihood suffering from a lupus flare, I am also extremely anaemic and possibly bleeding internally (therefore causing the anaemia) from an ulcer or bowel polyp. Polyp is such a funny little word. Anyway, I have to have a gastroscopy and colonoscopy, but can't get bookings for them until late July (and that's in the private health system). So I just have to wait, and take massive amounts of vitamins and minerals in the meantime hoping to raise my iron levels. I will see my rheumatologist Dr Paul sometime in the next couple of months to update him on this latest information and see if he has any insight. A couple of other areas of the blood count were abnormal too, in ways that can represent a lupus flare.

In some ways, lupus reminds me of Borderline Personality Disorder. It tucks itself away, hidden somewhere deep inside so that you think you have it licked. Then when you relax, pat yourself on the back and congratulations for a job well done then BAM! It comes back full force, and makes a total fool of you. I can fight it, and strategise against it (immunosuppressant, anti-psychotic, NSAID, anti-depressant, mind/body medicine, DBT, CBT, therapy, meditation, rest, blah blah) but in the end, it never, ever, ever goes away. Not permanently. Not for any length of time. Just long enough so that you take your eye off it for a second, and thus give it chance to take over again. I'm just so damn tired of having to be VIGILANT.

Yesterday's "mental health day" off work was made marginally better by the arrival of a fantastic parcel of zines I bought from Sarah at This Lunatic Express. I think most of my followers also check in over there, but for anyone who doesn't know Sarah, she's a great writer and has experienced a lot. Her zines cover all aspects of her eating disorder, BPD, bipolar, anxiety, hospitalisations and more. Reading them made me admire her even more, she is brave and honest and I need a kick up the ass for feeling so sorry for myself when people like Sarah have a lot more to deal with than me. Get her zines, people. Read them. She rocks.

This morning I got up and showered and dressed, then laid back down in bed. "I can't go today, honey" I said to Neil. He hugged me and said "You need to go to work, babe. You need to try, even if you come home during the day if you feel bad." I didn't know whether to slit his throat or hug him back. "Otherwise, it just gets too easy to say "I can't" and no longer try," he continued. Hating him, loving him, knowing he was right, I got up and went to work. He's right. For me, it does get easier the longer I avoid things. And I need to work. Financially I just can't afford to go back to the way things were unless it's completely 100% unavoidable. Today it wasn't 100%. Tomorrow, who knows...

(Title from Darren Hanlon's song "People Who Wave At Trains". I like to wave at trains, by the way. Not local, public transport trains, but definitely long distance holiday-maker trains. When I travelled across the US on Amtrak trains I loved waving out the window to the little kids who waved to me. Good times.)

is this a hickey or a bruise???

2011-05-16T13:12:00.007+08:00

I'm completely in love with Katy Perry's new song "Last Friday Night", which is where the title of today's post comes from. One of the other things I love most about the gorgeous Katy is this..

I want, I want, I want! Her new perfume is just the bomb. Luckily my birthday is next month and I've been dropping major hints to Neil haha.

While on the subject of cats, I totally love the new comic from Yasmin at Cat Versus Human:

This is EXACTLY how my friends react to my cat-fluff-laden house and clothes. But what can I say, I love Charly to pieces and if she wants to sit on my best sweater or sleep on my pillows, she is more than welcome! Thank heaven I found a man who loves animals just as much as I do!

Things with me are going okay. Still exhuasted and nauseous, I have an appointment with my GP this afternoon to find out the results of my blood tests. Am going to get an appointment with Dr Paul, my lupus specialist, in the next month or so (hopefully) to see if this is a lupus flare or something else. I had a great weekend, though, mainly because of the Eurovision Song Contest, which regular readers will remember me raving about last year. I just love it, lots of Australians watch it each year even though we're clearly NOT part of Europe LOL. It's kitsch, quirky and in bad taste sometimes, but some of the music is awesome and I love learning bits and pieces about other countries. This year's winner was Azerbaijan, who were one of my top 5 acts. Neil looked up Azerbaijan on wikipedia after the win and we learnt all about their independence from the former USSR, and that the capital is Baku and the population is approx 9 million. It's a Muslim country, and they were the first Muslim country to initiate voting for women (in around 1918, so years before the US or UK!). We're such a romantic couple, laying in bed googling hahahahaha.

Thanks for everyone's support over the last few low-mood posts. I'm so grateful for this blog, and the blogs of my friends, which help keep me moderately sane! I'm also grateful for my readers, of whom I now have 103!! Thank you for reading, commenting, emailing (-:

Things I love just now...

* Cats

* Neil

* Coffee

* Blogs

* Survivor's Boston Rob - bless his heart xx

* Adele's CDs 19 and 21 (anyone who hasn't heard her, look for her Brit Music Awards performance on youtube, it's just amazing)

* Buffy

how many times could you have blown a kiss...

2011-05-04T15:23:00.005+08:00

...but instead you swung your fist? My favourite band at the moment are The View, and that line is from their song "Beautiful". I like that line because it sums up how much of life is choice, and how much choice affects our self-esteem. I am trying to be more positive this week, in an attempt to re-wire my mind/body connection and perhaps feel healthier. Wish me luck!

In the spirit of such things, I am copying some of my favourite bloggers (Sarah at This Lunatic Express and D'Arty at Living In Iowa as well as the fabulous Wandering Coyote) and writing a post about the positive things in my life. It may end up being short haha! But it's something I don't "do", and should. I am grateful for a lot, and need to focus on that rather than feeling sorry for myself. So here goes.

My relationship with my angel Neil is healthy, and happy, and he's a damn fine bloke. I'm lucky!

Biological Family continues to be a positive experience, after many years of the opposite. My mum is finally in therapy, which is great for her but also the rest of us (-:

We recently got a new addition to the family, Roxy - an 18 month old cat who belongs to Neil's son Jarrad but is equally loved by all of us. Except my cat Charly, who is not one to play well with others... Here's Roxy...

My ten pin bowling team No Deal are placed second in our league, and considering we are an all-girl team that's pretty awesome! Traditionally men bowl better than women, apparently. Blah.

Michelle (my former housemate) and I have tickets to the Roller Derby on May 21st which will be freakin' wicked!!

I no longer have to take valium regularly to survive work, even though I'm working fulltime. It's a fairly dull job, but worthwhile, and I'm left alone doing it. It's quiet and low stress.

I have an appointment with Doctor Graeme, my lovely GP, on Friday and will be able to organise some blood tests and a referral to my Immunologist Doctor Paul. Steps towards better health!

I am incredibly fortunate to have support from this madosphere, the mental health bloggers, who are terrific and wise and funny and brave. Thank you!

I have to admit, I feel happier for having made that list. It cancels out all the worries and stresses I normally have on my mind. Maybe I will have to make it a regular thing. Neil and I are currently in the midst of a Buffy The Vampire Slayer marathon, after seeing the original movie on television a couple of weeks ago. I have all the DVDs (and Angel). My latest saying has become "What Would Buffy Do??" when I get negative. While I'm not planning on taking up staking or kick boxing, having an attitude of strength and survival is all-too-important.

we wear our bruises like watermarks

2011-05-02T11:40:00.004+08:00

Thank you so much to be darling friends for your comments previously. I wish I could say things have improved. They are made markedly worse, at the least complicated, by the re-appearance of my lupus in a hideous whole body flare that threatens to render me inert. (FYI - Lupus, or Systemic Lupus Eurythematosus is an autoimmune disorder, whereby the body's immune system attacks itself, eg: organs, joints, skin, rather than attacking external threats like bacteria or viruses. It's usually hereditary and incurable).

I'm not foolish enough to gloss over the connection...mind/body medicine is one of the things that cured my fibromyalgia (kind of similar to chronic fatigue and sometimes connected with lupus) and helped control my lupus, so I know that what I think and feel is reflected in my physical wellbeing. The fact that I've been struggling with some emotional issues has left me fatigued and rundown, and a perfect target for a lupus flare. So far it has shown up as joint pain (particularly my hands and right knee), constant nausea and neck pain. I'm lucky, in that my degree of lupus is very mild (so far). I am medicated for it, which helps, and thus far my autoimmune system hasn't attacked any serious organs. I know people who have kidney and liver or heart disease from lupus, and people who have lost eyesight and mobility. My paternal grandmother died because of it.

Anyway. I am now feeling even sorrier for myself, and struggling even more to maintain a positive outlook. I am even tireder than I was when my problems were "just" mental/emotional. The way I beat fibromyalgia and controlled my lupus in 2005 when I was first diagnosed was through fairly strict mind/body medicine - predominantly meditation and diet, as well as the medication.

I just don't think I have the energy it will take to get well again.

Last time I was ill, my mental state was strong, I was in (what seemed then to be) a supportive marriage, I was barely working in a casual job. Basically, I had a lot in the positives column. Now...it seems like things were just starting to take shape for me in my new work/home, and BANG, life throws me a curve ball. Ain't it always the way.

Neil is even more concerned than before, now I'm even more bedridden and exhausted and complaining. I have to make an appointment to see my specialist and find out if my medication needs changing. There really is only one medication for lupus (Plaquenil) but maybe I need more, or something new might have become available. I was so complacent and cocky... I thought I had the lupus whipped.

My mental state has kind of taken a back seat at the moment. I'm feeling okay, coping mostly with work and getting on well with my adorable man. Big picture is kind of blurry. Finer points are kind of rough round the edges. I haven't felt BPD-ish for quite some time, which is mostly (I think) due to the basic CBT/DBT I have ingrained in me, as well as the medication and a strong relationship based on honesty and boundaries. But the scary part is, I feel like I may be slowly unravelling. If I have lost control of my physical health, is my mind the next thing to go??

Title from Perth band Birds of Tokyo's song "Plans".

fear is the heart of love

2011-04-18T09:05:00.004+08:00

So much has changed over the last six weeks. Left my job, got a new one. Left my house, got a new one. Left my independent life, became a live-in girlfriend. Not all of it's been easy. In fact, most of it has been fracking hard. I feel like I'm treading water, waiting for my feet to be able to touch bottom, but all there is down there is a vast, terrifying, murky depth. Honestly, I don't know how long I can keep my head above water. Being mad is all very well when you live alone and work only three days a week. There's a lot of time leftover for retreating to bed with the sheets pulled up over my throbbing, pounding, naysaying head. These days I have to be awake, showered, dressed (and not just in sweat pants or a sarong) and ready to face the world by 6.45am. Neil asks me if I have had breakfast (puke at the thought), made lunch (ditto), tells me to have a great day. Without fail, I spend the entire hour and a half journey to work thinking how I can get out of going, or how I can be well enough to not be in one of the hospitals I pass, or what food I can binge on or junk I can purchase to cheer myself up. I am no sicker than before this all began. Mostly, I manage to feel "normal" and complete a day's work. But there's no doubt that the extra social pressure takes its toll. For most of the weekend I collapse thankfully into sleep or junk-TV watching. I eat entire packets of chocolate biscuits then berate myself for being so fat, lazy, unmotivated, hideous, ill, ill, ill. Neil asks me, fearfully, if I've taken my medication. Yes, yes, yes, but I am still mad, you see. The medication takes the sharp edges off but you can still be hurt by the blunt ones. My things arrived at Neil's two weeks ago and are still half-packed. I don't have enough cupboard space for my clothes, pantry room for my food, bookshelves for my books. My belongings randomly overflow out of boxes like the disjointed conversations I have with people at work. Nothing makes sense, there's no rhyme nor reason, no place for my Big Ole Crazy to be. I miss having space. I miss having peace and quiet and nothingness. It was easier to convince people I was okay when I didn't actually have to see them. I don't know if I can do this. But I am still here, trying. Title post from Death Cab For Cutie's "I Will Follow You Into The Dark"

do you know the one where we all live happily

2011-03-23T08:34:00.002+08:00

Hi everyone! I'm so sorry I've been away from the blogosphere, and crikey I have missed you all )-: Contrary to how I sometimes feel these days, I'm surviving and occasionally thriving. Went back to work fulltime two weeks ago and jeez it's been tough. I miss my four day weekends. I miss having a lazy ass job where I was able to write and check blogs every day. But, I am looking forward to my first pay cheque next week and to having enough money to start repaying my parents for all their financial support since my last breakdown in 2009.

I have a job working for a government department, it's fairly basic data entry and it's quiet and that suits me just now. I think going back to work fulltime is hard enough without having to cope with stress or phones ringing and people needing me to help them, etc. Sometimes I feel bored, but that's natural right? Sometimes (often) I feel tired, but given my new lifestyle that's expected, right?

Mostly, I have maintained a positive mood which is probably thanks to the Cymbalta and Solian more than anything else. Life outside work is going well, though there are major changes in my home life to contend with along with the changes at work. Michelle, my housemate, met a nice man six months ago and they have decided to move in together. Awesome for them, but it meant I had the choice of trying to find a new room-mate, trying to live on my own (financially difficult) or moving in with Neil. After discussion Neil and I decided I should move in with him, which I'm both excited and terrified about! He lives with his obtuse and recalcitrant 19 year old son and his small dog, and as you know I am devoted to my moody cat. His house is a lot further out of the city (where I work) and further from public transport. But apart from these minor issues, I think it's going to be great for our relationship and will save me money. Neil owns his home and doesn't want me to pay rent - so I can put that money aside for saving or repaying my parents. I'll obviously contribute to all the bills, but even so I will be a lot better off financially. I love and adore him, too!! So that's a positive environment to be in. It's just a change, that's all, and one that may bring out the worst in me, my mental illness, our relationship, etc. Moving day is April 2nd so wish us luck!

Doc A has been away in Italy at a conference, and I cancelled my last appointment, so it's been about six weeks since I saw him. With all these changes, I could have done with the support. He's stopped doing after hours consultations, so I don't know how I will juggle fulltime work with therapy. But I know I need to try and work it out.

I need to get back to work so I have to be brief. Michelle took her computer when she moved out, so I have no option for reading blogs except lunch breaks at work. I miss everyone so much! I hope you're all hanging in there, and finding some happiness. I will try and check in more often and update you guys.

Lots of love, Lil xx

Post title is from Lisa Mitchell "Coin Laundry".

just a jump to the left

2011-02-15T11:02:00.003+08:00

And then a step to the right. To and fro, up and down, here and there. Life is a comedy of swings and roundabouts lately, and if I didn't know better I would wonder if I were experiencing a mixed episode... Recently I spent the majority of ten days in bed, paralysed with the crippling grief of depression and swallowed whole by a black cloud. An appointment with Doc A (the first one in 3 months due to his vacation) had me upping my Cymbalta meds and since then things have improved. But one of the things I instigated while I was languishing in my depressive episode was to quit my job.

Rather than it being an impulsive act, or the result of a breakdown, I decided to quit because my job has steadily become too easy, too boring, too pointless, too... well, too simple to just not go. There are a lot of positives, and they were very kind to me last year when I had my month of mental health leave, but in the end it was time for me to move on. I've decided to look for full-time work, which is terrifying but necessary. I need money. I need private health insurance, and to pay $500 to finalise my divorce. I need a decent haircut and colour. I need new shoes. I've been finding it increasingly impossible to live on the part-time wage I was receiving, so I have to at least TRY to work more hours. I've done it before, and I believe that if I find a job that's halfway interesting and productive I will be happy to go full-time. Even if it's just for six months or a year until I get ahead again.

I can't lie, though, it's a scary proposition. I am used to having four days a week to spend in bed recovering from working three days. I am used to a slack workplace that expects very little where I can (as I am now!!) check blogs, write emails and apply for other jobs without anyone commenting. Bring it on, though. I kind of look forward to having expectations placed upon me, I almost believe that I will rise to the occasion and perform as required. At the moment, even though so little is required of me, I still languish in depression and lazy bed-ridden-ness. My mum made the point that I may as well "die trying"!! If I am going to have a massive meltdown why not do it while earning stacks of money and doing a high-faluting job??

Thus far, I've had a few interviews and been offered one job which seemed to be nearly as boring as the one I have now. I have until March 3 at my current position, so there's time to find something. Neil and I are going to Melbourne tomorrow for a few days holiday, which I am SO looking forward to. I get to introduce him to my friend H, and we are going to a great zoo over there which has open range safari type landscape with African animals. My parents paid for the plane tickets as a Christmas present, and Neil has saved up the spending money as I am ridiculously poor )-: I am looking forward to the break, and some time spent with my lovely boy. We had a great Valentine's yesterday, went out for dinner and talked about possibly moving in together at some stage over the next few months. YIKES!! Big changes!

Childless Women - Lacking An Essential Humanity??

2011-01-18T11:54:00.004+08:00

I found a link to this really interesting and thought-provoking exhibition on a blog I follow Edge of Everywhere. Moved by the negative reactions to her and other women’s decisions not to have children, Miriam Schaer embroidered real quotes onto white baby dresses with red thread, creating a shocking visual representation of the societal prejudice against childless women.

View the exhibit online

The artist writes:

“Selfish… Neurotic… Irresponsible… Immature… Unfeminine… Unfulfilling… Materialistic… Uptight… Deviant” — all words I have heard to characterize my decision to not have children, a decision transforming me into a target of one of society’s remaining and widely held prejudices.

Baby (Not) on Board: The Last Prejudice?, addresses the question of why the existence of women who choose maternal independence over child-rearing angers or offends so many people and institutions. The work presented here is part of a continuing exploration of our culture’s pejorative views about women without kids. For Baby (Not) on Board: The Last Prejudice?, I hand-embroidered representative negative comments on baby dresses using red thread to create scarlet letters. Gathered from interviews with childless women, online research, and personal experience, the statements taunt and accuse, and are typical of an endless flow of critical statements that seem to be growing bolder even as non-traditional families are gaining greater acceptance.

These pictures really touched me, as a woman who for most of her life has been uninterested in having children. I've most definitely had that decision questioned, sometimes almost vilified, even though I have the "excuse" of being physically unable to easily bear children and probably having to have had IVF or similar if I had been keen on having children. I just have so many reasons why kids can't and won't be a part of my life, not the least because of my mental illness. I have nieces and nephews I adore, but in general I find children uninteresting and irrelevant to me and my life. Why is this so horrifying to people?

empty rooms that echo as I climb the stairs

2010-12-01T16:15:00.003+08:00

Last week my grandfather died. We had the funeral yesterday, and it was - as these things go - fairly bearable. He was 90, and had "a good innings" as they say. Was rarely ill, and widely loved, and will be missed. After the funeral we went back to what was his and my grandmother's house for a few beers (which he would have approved of!) and made a circle around what was always "his" chair. No-one wanted to sit there, but eventually the size of the crowd and the age of most of those attending, meant that seats were at a premium and one or another of us sat there for the rest of the afternoon. It's weird, but I think a lot of older folk, especially grandads, have "their" chair.

My family is a bit of a divorce/separation/abandonment minefield. Both my stepdad and his brother have been divorced and remarried (the latter four times). There are kids, stepkids and halfsies. Though I considered him my grandfather, and called him Grandpa for almost 35 years, we weren't blood related. He's my stepfather's Dad. My stepfather came to live with us when I was 4/5 and never left, eventually marrying my mum in 1994. To do this, my stepdad left his own two children (a boy and a girl, the same ages as me and my younger brother). My father ended up moving in with my stepdad's ex and there was a few years of "Wife Swap" going on for real...ugh...I feel tacky and 70s-influenced just thinking about it. Anyhow, I raise the topic because it's relevant to what went on yesterday. My stepdad has only seen his son Rob a couple of times in his life, last time being 25-odd years ago, although he has (and the rest of us have too) re-established a fairly nice relationship with his daughter. Rob could not forgive as easily as his sister, I guess, which is reminiscent of my own brother who has never seen our father since his abandonment.

Yesterday, Rob showed up at the funeral, having caught a three hour flight. He recently made contact with my grandparents, closing the gap that had existed for so many years - I think having his own two kids had made him sentimental perhaps and wonder about his grandparents. But he still hadn't seen my stepdad - until yesterday. It was a massive, major shock to see him. I thought my stepdad was going to faint (literally). He said to me it was more shocking and upsetting than his father passing away. But in the end, it turned out brilliantly. We all hung out with Rob and he chatted with everyone. I commend him for turning up like that, coming into a potentially hostile (or at the least uncomfortable) atmosphere. Really great bloke, who I like a lot. I hope we get to stay in touch more now that he's made the effort to heal our family's rift. I wondered if my brother started to get ideas about his own father... though he knows that I've given up on that relationship.

It really got me thinking about how rarely I saw my grandpa, but how easy it was to love him, and how little I see of my nanna (Mum's mother) now she lives in a nursing home. About how guilty I feel regarding that, and how I plan/hope to change it. About how much family creates and affects us, and how much time we spend trying to run away from it. And about that fact that, sometimes, blood means as much as years you've spent together.

Post title from Don McLean's Empty Chairs.

forever is a long, long time when you lost your way

2010-11-17T15:30:00.005+08:00

Today's post title is from my favourite Guitar Hero song "Lasso" by Phoenix. My roommate Michelle bought a Nintendo Wii a few weeks back and it's really been more fun that I imagined. I am especially loving the music games, as I am a frustrated karaoke queen, and am a lot better on guitar than I thought I'd be. It's nice just to kick back and have fun with Michelle anyway. We realised yesterday that we've been living in our skanky Juliette Lewis duplex for a year now -- and so much has changed during that time. We were both single back then, and now are seeing really great guys, and we were both in a more precarious mental state than we are (mostly!) now. I think living there has been good for me, she definitely inspired me to start internet dating and look how well THAT turned out.

Neil and I are still blissing out on each other and having a lot of fun. We've been extremely social lately, having had two weddings, a hen's/buck's night and a 40th birthday to go to. They were all his friends, of whom he has many, but I'm starting to feel like I fit in with them and they're all pretty welcoming. Neil also rocks because he bought me some new clothes to wear for all these outings as I was feeling a bit "blah" about my wardrobe. He earns a lot more than me, but I still felt uncomfortable about him spending money on me... His previous girlfriend scored a new car from him, as well as a stack of other stuff she didn't deserve (miaow! LOL) and I don't want to be perceived like her. She was very materialistic, from what I can gather. My oldest friend once worked with this girl (as well as with Neil) and she doesn't have a high opinion of her. I think that my struggle to be accepted by Neil's 19 year-old son is proving to be difficult partly because of the last girlfriend.

Although work, family, friends and love life seem to be stable and nice, there are still more moments of panic/black-hole-ness than I would like. I guess it's called recovery for a reason, not "all-better-now". I had to take a Valium at work the other day, for the first time in months, which certainly worked and helped chill me out for the day so I could get through it. But I was disappointed that my regular medication, and the mental effort I am expending on "being normal", wasn't sufficient to keep the nasty away. I had bad PMT as well this month, which is common but annoying. It makes me irritable and shaky as well as the physical aches, cramps and tiredness. Neil knows about most of my mental history, and Doc A, and the meds, but I try not to always be harping on about it. He lost two close family members to suicide, and I feel so damnably guilty and selfish whenever I want to whinge about my low mood. Being with Neil has definitely shown me another side to mental illness, the survivor's side, and Michelle and I often have to adapt our conversation or anecdotes out of respect for his experience. We have both attempted suicide, and have regular suicide ideation (as Doc A would say), but try not to express it when Neil is around. He knows I have been down that road, but I figure he doesn't need reminding of it.

All in all, life is wonderful yet comes with its own minor pitfalls. I'm navigating them...so far... Being around someone kind and loving definitely helps, even though it adds a social pressure to my life in some ways. I am worried about my eating though, and my consequent weight issues. Neil loves his food, and also loves shopping, and those two things are high on my binge-list. I have to try and maintain the weight loss I achieved through my weight loss surgery three years ago, even if I can't manage to lose the rest of the excess weight. I don't want a repeat of the Mr Ex scenario where we both gained 50kg while we were together. No sir, no way.

A New Favourite

2010-11-10T13:33:00.004+08:00

These comics are from my new favourite website www.catversushuman.blogspot.com

The creator is a supercool girl from San Francisco named Yasmine. I want to be her friend. I want to BE her.

Though I have just two cats (one of whom lives with her grandmother because she can't play nice with her sister) I am definitely a crazy cat lady...

A Post Secret Moment

2010-10-20T13:53:00.002+08:00

the costume makes the clown

2010-10-12T15:24:00.005+08:00

Over the weekend Neil and I went to a costume party held by a friend from work. It went really well, and I will attach a photo at the bottom of this post so you can see me as Queen Victoria and Neil as a hunky King Arthur.

Getting the costume organised was a moment of stress for me. The invitation called for us to dress as someone famous (dead) from history, and all of the people I could think of were either men or old ladies. Apart from people like Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe, who I knew were already coming to the party, and who I could not really hope to emulate due to their amazing sexiness and style. We went to a huge costume store near the city and rather than let us browse the costumes and choose, the staff asked what costume we wanted and then found it for us. Consequently, I ended up with the ugliest, most shapeless dress you ever saw, which was kind of a Gone With The Wind dress but they said it was okay for Queen Victoria (one of my ideas). I was extremely depressed when I tried it on, as it made me look hideous. There I was surrounded by sexy Catwoman, French maid, school girl type costumes and gorgeous skinny women trying them on, and I was wearing a black polyester sack. Ugh. It came with a hoop petticoat, which did NOT help, and they gave me a weird gold headband crown. In the end, I decided to just take the outfit and try to dress it up a bit. It seemed clear from the attitude of the staff and the other customers that there weren’t a lot of options for plus size costumes… The staff member asked me “What size ARE you?” and when I told her, two other customers turned and stared at me. It reminded me of the embarrassment I had shopping for a wedding dress (when I was even heaiver than I am now), when I ended up getting a dress made for me as the stores were so rude.

Anyway. I guess it reminded me that it's nice to have control over our lives in some ways (like choosing every day what we wear, and making ourselves happy and comfortable with fashion) and when we have to step out of that zone it can be confronting. I hardly ever feel that crippling low-self-esteem these days… being loved/desired has done wonders for me in that area. But I had a rough day at the costume shop. Neil kept telling me to try and find something else, but I really just gave up. I felt like I was being punished for not losing more weight after my surgery and not making an effort. In the end, I found a purple crown and sceptre/wand in Toys R Us and also some rocking elbow-length velvet gloves that cheered me up! I think the costume ended up a success, even though the party was full of fabulous Audreys and Marilyns I didn’t feel too bad.

falling from the heartbeat of this girl

2010-09-21T16:05:00.003+08:00

I saw Doc A on Friday, for the first time in over a month - probably the longest stretch I've been "psych-free" since I started treatment in Feb 2009. The session was good, primarily because he validated all the issues I've been having since I went off the Solian (anti-psychotic) and basically advised me to keep doing what I was already doing on my own - namely go back on the Solian and try to maintain mindfulness with my eating and shopping binges. He seemed adamant that I've proven I need the Solian, even in the small dose I'm taking. I think that having a period off the medication, during a stress-free and trigger-free time in my life, was a good "test". I am okay with needing the Solian. It's primarily for schizophrenia, which I don't have, but is also proven to work for BPD and OCD in conjunction with an anti-depressant.

So I have been taking the Solian again for a week and feel markedly improved. My mood is better, I feel less "split" and distracted, I have managed to reduce my binges (both eating and shopping), and overall I am less anxious. Had a great weekend with Neil, finally met his mother which was a lot less scary than I'd imagined LOL, and some more of his friends. Also spent time at my place with Michelle, who gets on famously with Neil. It is such a relief that they are compatible, and there are no issues, as one of the other guys I dated this year, Lloyd, triggered massive (justified) anger from Michelle. He really was a jerk. Sometimes I have to pinch myself, metaphorically, to make sure I'm not dreaming the fact that I now get to hang out with someone as generous, loving, fun and kind as Neil. Did I tell y'all that we met on an internet site that is primarily for sex and hookups than for actual romance and dating?? SO WEIRD. I had grown tired of the metrosexual passive types I was meeting on the traditional dating sites, so put my profile up on a site more "out there" - and ended up meeting one of the few men on that site who actually was after more than just a one night stand. How funny. Neil told me afterwards that he didn't realise that site was known for "swingers" and the like! Jeez, I do love him.

Post title is from one of my fave songs at the moment, Angus & Julia Stone's "and the boys". They are an awesome brother/sister duo from Sydney. Here's the film clip for those who are interested...

should be hoping but I can't stop thinking

2010-09-15T10:14:00.003+08:00

No matter how much I think I've changed, or "recovered", there's always the Big Dark hovering the background waiting to devour. Lately it's been creeping around making its evil presence felt in subtle ways. A couple of episodes of binge eating. Some temper tantrums. Shortness of breath, tightness of chest. Whether it can be blamed on PMS or the medication change is something that will come to light in time, but the overall negativity of mood at the moment is scaring me shitless. Housemate Michelle said to me last night "What's your problem, you've got a job, somewhere to live, a boyfriend..." and although it was said entirely in jest, she really has a point. Outwardly, there is no reason for my uneasy feeling. No external trigger for these nerves that are starting to stretch out like barbed wire.

I am considering going back on the antipsychotic, Solian. I definitely wonder if the binge eating is related to going off the meds, as one of the main reasons for Doc A prescribing it was to help with my eating. I've started "inhaling" food again, instead of maintaining mindfulness and enjoying food in a relaxed and slow way. I ate a huge bag of potato chips in less than half an hour on Monday, and then polished off a number of chocolate bars. It reminded me of the bad old days before my weight loss surgery when I would regularly binge like that. I have no idea what triggered it, if anything. Although there have been some nasty thoughts hovering around lately.

As much as I am happy and in love, and definitely feel "loved", part of me wonders when it will all start to go bad. When Neil will see how pathetic and ugly I am, when he will realise the huge mistake he's made, when he will run away and never look back. It's a constant struggle to keep these stupid, pointless, damaging, groundless fears at bay. If a short time passes when we don't have sex, I think "It's the beginning of the end, he's gone off me already." If he doesn't text me until lunchtime I think "Remember the beginning of our relationship, when the first thing he did every morning was text?" Who am I to second guess and question such a decent and honest man?? I don't deserve him if I'm going to act in such a self-destructive way.

One of the things I constantly say, and believe, is that relapse is part of recovery. I suppose this is one of those moments of relapse, when old habits and thought patterns threaten to sabotage my current happiness. I'm trying so hard not to be terrified that the Cymbalta is losing effectiveness, and that another breakdown is imminent. So far I am managing to keep up at work, and still show a fairly cheerful front to Neil and everyone else. The Big Crazy is still held at bay, which is something positive I suppose. While I maintain control, and have insight, I have hope that I will get through this time of darkness.

*Post title is from This Woman's Work (Kate Bush) - melancholy as suits my mood...

lucky just to linger in your life

2010-09-01T09:58:00.004+08:00

I've been absent from here again, caught up in the blissful ordinariness of life. It seems that I blog more regularly when things are bleak, so rest assured if you haven't heard from me in a while it's because all is well. It seems so trite to post the positives, even though I know people are happy to hear them.

My bloke, Neil, is lovely.

He listens to my complaining, laughs at my lamest jokes, cooks me delicious meals and buys me stuffed toys and flowers. He's fun and fabulous in bed! Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure it's not a wonderful dream I will wake up from to find myself lonely and alone. Having someone in my corner, on my side, is an amazing feeling and I am SO LUCKY. I accidentally called him by Mr Ex's name the other day, due in part probably to the physical resemblance but also because I spent ten years using Mr Ex's name. Neil took it in his stride and didn't get upset, which was a relief. I felt awful, because in no way does Neil remind me of Mr Ex in any way apart from the superficially physical. I think he knows that, which is why he was okay with my little faux pas!

Apart from ye olde love life, things are fairly stable. Work is going well, I now work three days a week (Tues - Thurs) and then have a four day weekend every week - which I gotta tell you, rocks!! Neil has Sundays off, and mostly Mondays, so we often spend a couple of days overdosing on each other. I am incredibly relaxed with him, even naked LOL. This is probably TMI but for the first time I feel like I have the opportunity and the support to just let go and have fun in the bedroom. We're both experimental and openminded and really match each other well. Which, as regular readers will know, is the opposite to Mr Ex. I always thought I was oversexed, or weird, but being with Neil shows me that it wasn't me who had the problem all those years...

Doc A suggested I was stable enough to go off the anti-psychotic (Solian), which I did a few weeks ago. I haven't really noticed any difference, and thankfully the OCD hasn't returned and I haven't been binge-eating. Doc A also pushed out my appointments to once a month rather than once a week, which suits me as there doesn't seem to be a lot to talk about lately. Unlike other relationships, I'm not black/white, obsessive or game-playing with Neil, and we are building a good level of trust that keeps me comfortable. I keep expecting problems to crop up, for triggers to go off, but so far the last couple of months have been placid. No doubt something will come along to derail or perturb me! But meanwhile, I am enjoying the smooth ride.

greetings loved ones

2010-08-04T15:31:00.003+08:00

Ticking along, ticking along. Life continues to surprise and delight me with its evenhanded sweetness. I am steadily growing fonder of The Man (Neil), who loves to buy me flowers and cheesecake and recently cooked me the best roast dinner I've ever eaten. We talk every day, and each time we see each other it's the perfect mix of excitement and relaxation. Weird, but it feels like we've been dating for years already. Did I tell y'all he bears more than a passing physical resemblance to Mr Ex? It freaks me out sometimes, makes me wonder whether there is something sick and twisted going on in my subconscious. Michelle, housemate, says as long as Neil doesn't resemble Mr Ex in character then that's the most important thing. But it's twelve years since Mr Ex and I first hooked up, so who would know what he was like then, before the marriage rot set in and the sexual ambivalence started to send me mad... I tend to think that Neil is made from stronger stuff, and much more focused and passionate than Mr Ex ever was. And if his only major flaw is that he is of similar build and colouring as my ex-husband, then Neil is definitely a keeper.

I've told Neil about the coincidence, and he is conscious of not reminding me in other ways of Mr Ex. I think I will have to run it past Doc A and see what he thinks, whether he's concerned that I am reliving the past or trying to subconsciously return to those dark days of unhappy matrimony.

In other news, my Cymbalta side effects have all but disappeared. I've been taking it (60mg) for almost 2 and a half months now, and it's still working a treat to keep me activated and stable-minded. At first I had wicked constipation (TMI? Sorry!), cotton mouth and a few troubles with orgasm, but thankfully all those things have passed. Doc A promised they would, but naturally I thought I knew better LOL. I'm finding that my weight has dropped slightly, as my appetite seems decreased, which is always a benefit. It's one drug I wouldn't hesitate to recommend. Combined with the 50mg of Solian I am taking, it's really helped me to turn things around from where they were in dismal May. Most of the time I feel mellow, cheerful, positive and full of potential. Work asked me to increase my hours, which I'm happy to do now I'm stable again, which shows they must think I am "well" and functioning.

As good as the Cymbalta is, though, I think it's just as empowering and enriching to have someone kind and loving in my life. Someone who tells me how much I mean to him, and reinforces my positive thoughts and qualities. Someone I inexplicably feel physically comfortable with, and who "lights my fire" on a regular basis (-: I am officially resigned from the dating sites now, and am focusing my attention on the relationship I have, here and now. He called me his girlfriend the other day, and damn if it didn't feel good...

(title of post from Katy Perry's California Gurls)

a boy, a girl and a rendezvous

2010-07-23T20:43:00.005+08:00

Firstly, a big thank you to Jen Daisybee from Suicidal No More for the I Choose to Live Award. This means a lot, as I really do believe living, and living well, is a choice and it's a choice I make every day. For those of you who haven't checked out Jen's blog, please do so - she is an incredibly inspiring writer who deals with Schizoaffective Disorder as well as some other difficulties.

Things have been steadily improving for me, and I am prepared to confess that I may in fact be a little bit "in lurve". It's someone entirely new, who I have only known for two weeks, but so far things are going amazingly well. There are no "buts", no negatives, no clarifications and best of all no qualms from him about being in a relationship. I decided two weeks ago to end things with Anthony, as he was determinedly casual and noncommittal, and seemed to prefer to just take things as they came rather than make plans. It just didn't suit me, and I had started to email my new man (Neil) and felt there was real potential there. We (Neil and I) have been completely honest and upfront from the start, and as a result have become close very quickly. We've had three dates since we met, and each one is more relaxed, more fun and more romantic than the last. He confessed to me that he is looking for true love, which is the first time I've heard that this year. The ten men I have met/dated this year have been predominantly reluctant to even mention love, let alone actively pursue it, so Neil is refreshingly different. On our first date, he bought me a gorgeous teddy bear, and has texted and/or called me every day since we met. He calls me babe and sweetheart. He tells me I make him smile. He does what he says he will, when he says he will.

I know it's early, but I really think this one might be a keeper. We'll see! The finding out is the fun part, anyway!!

I saw Doc A this week for the first time in a month; he has been in Germany for the First International Congress on BPD. He came back with heaps of interesting info, such as Abilify is the "go to" medication they've found for BPD + depression, but BPD without depression does not typically respond well to medication. They discussed DBT (Marsha Linehan was a keynote speaker) and MBT and TBT (this last one is what Doc A says he and I do, it's Transference Behavioural Therapy), and all three have major merit and success in treatment according to the Congress. One of the interesting things is that pharmaceutical companies had very little input into the Conference, which meant that the outcomes and topics weren't as skewed as other Conferences. Doc A is very much against what he calls the "pharmaceutical industry merry-go-round" and refuses to see drug reps at his practice. I'm so lucky to have found such a kick arse doctor. Really makes a big difference.

Hope this finds everyone hanging in there and maybe even doing well xx

Today's title is from Belle and Sebastian's Women's Realm - one of my all-time favourite songs.

round and round and round in the circle game

2010-07-06T14:31:00.003+08:00

I seem to be struggling to keep up with blogging these days. Not much going on in the day-to-day sense, some whole days pass by with nothing remarkable to report, but it's more a lack of interest than a lack of something to say. I think blogging, for me, is a seasonal thing, or it's at least mood-based. I definitely come and go from here, and from the blogs of my online friends, and even though I think of you all regularly, it's sometimes hard to find the time and the energy to log on.

Perhaps it's because I am spending more time dating these days - both in real-life and online. My beau Anthony is still in the picture, and I still really like him, however we've been discussing open relationships and in theory I support the idea. I was monogamous for ten years, and it was reeeeeaaaaaally difficult, and part of me now believes that having a primary relationship with supplementary partners is the way to go. It's controversial, I know, and requires a huge level of trust and communication in the primary relationship. And it can't be just because one person wants it open, it has to be agreed upon by both parties. But a large part of me believes that it's not necessary to embrace monogamy "just because". Just because it's the done thing, or the option society encourages, or the thing most people do, doesn't mean it's the best option for me. Anthony and I are not exclusive, yet, maybe never will be, and so I am dating a couple of other people as well. It feels good, and everyone is aware of everyone else, and no-one is being set up for hurt (I hope, especially hope not me LOL).

Whether or not Anthony and I end up as primary partners in an open relationship, or whether I end up committed and monogamous with someone else, remains to be seen. Anthony has admitted being open to the idea of monogamy, with the right person and in the right circumstance, so I suppose that's an option too. We've been seeing each other for a month, and it's fairly casual, more casual than I would like if I'm honest. I am intense kind of person, as y'all know, and to see each other once or twice a week is not my ideal. Which may be one of the reasons why I am keen to have other men in my life...

One of my other guys, Mitch, has two kids aged 4 and 5, which is quite scary for me. I'm not sure if I'm "stepmother" material... I like him a lot, though, and I'm sure his kids are adorable. We had our first date on Saturday night and talked for hours, went bowling and had dinner and coffee. We have a lot in common, more than I first thought when I was matched with him, and even though Anthony is still my Number One, Mitch could definitely work his way up Lil's Dating Chart.

Healthwise, I am relatively stable and happy. I think my current medication mix is a good one, and even though Doc A is away in Germany for a couple of weeks I am hanging in there. He definitely doesn't agree with the polyamory/open relationship idea, by the way! He thinks it triggers one of the primary BPD issues of rejection/abandonment and would make me even more "hypervigilant" about any partner I had. He has a point, darn it, but I am still open to the idea. If I become well, and BPD-recovered, then hopefully hypervigilance will be a thing of the past, along with the BS of abandonment/rejection. Man, do I ever live in hope...

2010-06-15T19:25:00.002+08:00

Continued improvement in life and mood, which I am glad to experience. My new beau, Anthony, is still proving to be honest and upfront with me, and seems to like spending time with me, and I am trying hard not to hear doom approaching. I wish that for once I could just enjoy something without lamenting its frailties and anticipating its end. I keep reminding myself that the current moment is the only one I know I have for real, for sure, so I should just enjoy it for what it is.

In just 4 days I turn 40, and it really has messed with my head lol. I sailed through turning 30, even as other friends found it hard to transition. But 40 is proving to be a challenge. I am dealing with it by planning a weekend away for my parents and some of my closest friends, which will be fun and a distraction.

is that supposed to be your poker face or was someone run over by a train

2010-06-09T19:31:00.003+08:00

Just surfacing briefly to try and read a few blogs (so many hundreds in my Google reader...so little time) and to write an update on my situation.

In the last few weeks since I wrote, a lot has improved. Cymbalta has come into my life like an avenging angel, banishing the last of the homicidal Prozac-ity and energizing and revitalizing me. I feel so much better, so clear and focused. I started back at work yesterday and it went well, I am back on reduced hours and everyone has a slightly concerned way of watching me when they think I'm not looking. But overall, I am happy to be back and they are happy to have me.

My extra work with Dr A has paid off also, he says to not give Cymbalta all the credit as I've worked hard to try and regain my hold on sanity. My focus now is working with him on some CBT related goals in the areas of self-esteem, relationships and the like. I am determined to be able to be a functioning, positive partner for someone at some stage, and I think I need help with that (esp given my experiences with dating this year).

Also, I have met someone new. Someone I was introduced to online five months ago and have been emailing back and forth with regularity. We finally got to meet in real life and hit it off - now I am playing it as cool as I can, and trying not to place too much hope and expectation on him. Early days, but better ones folks.

(Title from Fountains of Wayne "No Better Place")

empty as a pocket with nothing to lose

2010-05-20T13:05:00.003+08:00

This is not a good time in the Life of Lil. I had a bit of a heartbreak/letdown when Colin decided he preferred another to me, and that stupid event has escalated into a full-scale breakdown, leaving me unable to work and on disability for at least a month. I really need help to get a handle on my emotions, and my desperate need to be liked/loved/dated.

I am going through a massive medication change, along with intensive therapy with Doc A, trying to find a pathway through this darkness. The Prozac is clearly not working, as I am on a high dose and still feel depressed 90% of the time, which could definitely be avoidance but I am willing to try a medication change to see if it helps. I start on Cymbalta on Monday, and I have increased my anti-psychotic Solian six-fold which has helped me feel more integrated. I had a couple of hideous dissociative episodes ten days ago, which prompted the increase in the Solian, and it's helped. I am also scoffing Valium like it's going out of fashion, just to keep the edges softer and the panic at a bearable level.

I can't believe after a year of solid and productive work I am back at square one. I'm annoyed with myself for letting a man affect me so profoundly, especially a man I had only been out with twice. Ridiculous. I obviously need to take myself out of this internet dating scene, but it's developed into a full-scale addiction... I don't know what to replace it with, what I would look forward to if not the potential for love and companionship.

I am cripplingly lonely.

This is not something I would admit for the longest time, but having to cope with the "loss" of Colin, or the POTENTIAL of him anyway, has shown me how much I have started to rely on the possiblility of being with someone. That terrible temptation to fill the BPD Big Empty with someone else, to place my terrors on someone else's shoulders and hope they can bear them better than I. It's a disaster.

I don't have internet access at home just now, Michelle has left for two weeks and taken it with her, so dragged myself to the local shops to use the public access booth - just to post an update and apologise for not being around lately. I am hopeful of a change in weather and circumstance. Keep your good vibes coming my way, and I will do the same back yáll.

Passionate Blogger Award

2010-05-03T16:18:00.005+08:00

Thank you Sarah (at This Lunatic Express) for this lovely recognition. I am passionate about blogging, it really helps me to keep the loony at bay, and reading all the blogs I have on my reading list is a big part of that. Like Sarah says, it's hard to choose just five to pass it on to but I decided to look at some of my new(er) contacts in blogging. Here are my choices:

Matthew at Chronic Impending Disaster (even if he DID post that internet dating was for the desperate LOL)
Arifaery at Fighting Labels
MissFlame1 at My Life & Challenges So Far
Lady Amanda at Living With An Invisible Disability (this lady has one of the biggest and warmest hearts in the blogosphere)
Bipolar Geminate

Y'all know I love and adore you - keep up the great blogging and help us all TRY to stay sane(ish).

the only things that I know, I know too well

2010-05-03T14:12:00.003+08:00

One of the things I liked most about my new dating partner Colin is when asked in his profile what were the 5 things he couldn't live without, one of the things he chose was "hope". I love that answer, it's something my regular readers know I pride myself on, even when life is at its darkest. But the problem with hope is that is leads to dangerous things like expectation, longing, anticipation, and then the plain vanilla terror of rejection.

I am struggling at the moment with trying to remain hopeful and positive, yet not place too much emphasis on how much Colin is tied up in that -- to hope for the best yet prepare for the worst, perhaps? Since I last wrote we have had another excellent date, one of those dappled afternoons where conversation and laughter flowed over us like the sweetest of waves, and are planning to meet again this coming Wednesday night. He has a lot going on in his life just now, and in many ways the timing is terrible as he leaves soon for a month in the USA. He will be away for my 40th birthday party, which makes me sad, as I know I would have enjoyed it more had he been there. But even knowing him, knowing he exists in the world and may like me, makes me happy. I can survive a month without him, though hopefully we will have progressed slightly further along the dating path by then as things remain ambiguous at the moment. I'm suffering from the "he's just not that into you" blues, whereby the time he spends studying, working, living his life transmogrifies in my mind into dates with other women, avoidance of me, yadayada. Sigh. I am so impatient, just wanting to know once and for all whether he likes me, how much he likes me, where he sees this heading...

It really does one's head in, this balancing act between liking someone and wanting them to like me, yet not actually putting too much emphasis on the importance of same. I don't know how to like Colin without putting my heart into it. I don't think I would like to be someone who could play this weird game of keeping my cards close to my chest. So I think I just need to live and love and all consequences be damned (within reason).

Title from Richard Easton's Pastel Gothic, great local artist

supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

2010-04-20T20:08:00.002+08:00

On the corner of my street is a big house with an impressive rose garden, with bushes that froth over the wall and into the street. I've taken to stopping as I pass and smell the roses, how cliched. They are all colours, each has a slightly different scent. The reason I share this with you now is that a week ago I didn't even notice them, would walk straight past either crying, frowning or lamenting my fate, or all three at once. But since I followed Doc A's advice and faced my fears, going back to work and sticking it out, things have taken a turn for the better. It really did have a flow-on effect. Friday night I resisted the lure of Lloyd, who was texting me wanting me to go out with him and offer him my usual support and adoration. I felt like I am finally moving on from the maniacal obsession...

I saw Doc A yesterday and he said to me "Patients as aware as you rarely exist in therapy" and "You're so brave, I'm proud of you". Even though I take his validations with a BPD-grain-of-salt, I was chuffed that he said them. I felt like I'd earned them, having been thoroughly sick and terrified of returning to work after my enforced week's mental leave but doing it anyway. And doing it without tears, panic, or escape plans.

I had good news to share with Doc A, and to share here with y'all now. The date with Colin on Sunday was really, really nice. It's a dull word, that doesn't do the event justice, but it kind of describes it. No drama, no meanness, no embarrassment, just solid, easy conversation with a mature and interesting man. I managed to be friendly and outgoing without using my full-on BPD-overdrive Mary Poppins persona - which is a major victory. And yes, he called. And yes, we have a second date on Saturday. And yes, I am happy. Thankfully, it feels more like rebuilding than emotional BPD mood bouncing.

when the first cup of coffee tastes like washing up she knows she's losing it

2010-04-16T11:49:00.002+08:00

As the last couple of posts will attest, I am struggling just now. I took a week off from work, annual leave / mental health leave, and went to see Doc A a few times to try and work out how to get back on track. What I thought was my illness, or a general breakdown, he blames entirely on my focus on Lloyd and the dysfunctional relationship we're in. While I admit that there's a lot of energy being sent the way of the Unsuitable Boy, it's hard to comprehend that he/my reactions to him are entirely to blame for the shitty way I feel. When I am with him, I'm happy(ish); we've been spending a lot of time together over the last week as he was in hospital and needed my help (always a bad sign, as I am incapable of resisting the lure of someone who needs me...).

Doc A flatly refused to write me a medical certificate for disability. He basically said I could sack him and find a new doctor, but as far as he is concerned I am not incapable of working, I just need to focus more energy towards work and less towards the Unsuitable Boy. SIGH. I know he is right. His theory makes sense to me -- I am preoccupied with the friendship-that-can't-be-more, and the constant disappointment he gives me. Doc A pointed out that the main fear of a Borderline is rejection/abandonment, and the way my relationship with Lloyd is, that is all I ever get from him. Because I love him, and he doesn't feel the same, any time I spend with him is a constant reminder of those failings.

I am back at work today, shaky and worried, but I am here.

I am trying to minimise the Lloyd Effect, and have a date with a nice man named Colin on Sunday. Doc A suggests that I keep trying to work on functional, positive, rewarding relationships as it will help me to move on from The Unsuitable Boy. Intellectually, I am completely aware that Lloyd is wrong for me, and in fact is an arrogant, selfish SOB. But my heart has made a connection that won't just go away. Obviously it has to go away... yet it's not an easy transition. I have decided to try and limit contact with him as much as possible, try to minimise the addiction/craving (as Doc A describes it!!).

Thank you everyone for your lovely and supportive comments lately, it's really made things better. I am continuing to fight the good fight - and with your help, my medication, some DBT and Doc A I will make it to a happier place! I am determined, my friends xx

Thanks to Belle & Sebastian for the title of today's post, it's from their song "She's Losing It"

broken hearted girl

2010-04-15T14:18:00.001+08:00

it's life, Jim, but not as we know it

2010-04-06T11:33:00.002+08:00

Pitiful update on pathetic life.

I am struggling to even string a sentence together these days, which is why I've been absent from this page. I'm here now to reassure those of you who have noticed the absence that I am still fighting. Still waving, not drowning.

I am half-leftover-in-love with the Unsuitable Boy, who continues to string me along one text message at a time. Consciously, I know we are wrong for each other, and intellectually I understand the complex reasons why I can't let go. He is one of the only people I've ever met who is crazier than I am, he makes me feel normal, I don't have to do my fake "Mary Poppins" persona with him and be cheerful/chirpy, I feel empathetic and compassionate towards him for his past. None of these things are foundation-for-relationship. The deal-breakers between us are many, but they make little or no impression on the sad and sorry part of me that just wants to be with him rather than without him.

Work situation is dire, I am crippled with boredom and apathy and as poor as the proverbial church mouse. Time is approaching when I make my yearly foray into the job market. I seem to only be able to manage 12 months at a job (the last three positions have been almost exactly one year). I need more money, greater stimulus, perhaps a wider range of social opportunity. Men. My workplace is 100% female, and sometimes I fear I may suffocate from the estrogen.

I have an appointment with a community financial counsellor this week, attempting to stave off the bankruptcy that has threatened me since my breakdown and loss of employment last year. When I left my husband I inherited a large debt that I've struggled to pay off, and with the added issue of only working part-time, and being badly paid, the debt has spawned other, lesser debts, that now threaten to engulf me. I am trying, so hard, to keep paying everything and keep food on the table. It makes me so very very tired.

This is one of those posts people will wish they never read lol. It all has to be said, for I would never want to self-censor, but I apologise for the lack of cheer. Bleak and dark days, my friends. But I continue to struggle against the black dog.

Happy 200

2010-03-15T09:11:00.002+08:00

I can't believe this blog has been going for more than a year, which means my "official" BPD diagnosis is also more than a year old. It's my 200th post today - and I want to say a massive thank you to all my readers and commenters. Having you guys around has made the last year a LOT more enjoyable, and I hope some of my ramblings have helped other people to feel more sane LOL, or less alone.

I feel as though I should do some kind of a retrospective to mark the 200th post. It's certainly amazing to me how much has changed, in my physical life as well as my mental/emotional life. Working hard with Doc A, and practising my CBT and DBT skills, and finding a good medication balance has meant that I can function fairly well most of the time. I've returned to work, moved out of my parents' house, and started dating. A year ago, none of these things seemed possible. I owe a lot to Doc A, and to my family and friends who have been supportive, but I am recognising how much of the work I did myself. I was determined to survive, and to even thrive, and even when I was most despairing, I hung on to the hope. Even in the darkest times, I focused on the tiny glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel, and I think that's what got me through. It gave me the strength to keep working at therapy and to resist the evil BPD voices in my head when they told me to binge eat, shop, pull out my hair, scratch my skin, obsess, scream...

There are times when I wonder if I can keep up the effort, but I get through them (occasionally with the help of a Valium LOL). Events of the past year have tested me, often, but I do feel like I have made progress and am functioning pretty well. As mentioned in an earlier post, Doc A says that if I came in now to see him for an initial consult he probably wouldn't place me in the same Borderline Personality Disorder category, that he would assume I was at worst a mild case. I am attached to my diagnosis, so I don't know how I feel about having it taken away!! It seems weird to think of myself as just Lil instead of Borderline Lil, even though I know that it makes perfect sense - I am not JUST my diagnoses, I am a complete and whole person underneath the crazy haha.

As an update to previous posts, I am still spending time with Lloyd, though part of me suspects he doesn't deserve me LOL. We are technically "friends", and see a lot of each other, and in many ways I'm happier without the relationship label. I am still in two minds about him, and our relationship, but being with him (mostly) makes me happy. It's weird that I'm almost 40 years old and am finally falling for an Unsuitable Boy. I always made sensible, rational choices when I actually committed myself to relationships in the past, even though some of my fantasy/obsession/crushes were kind of out there. But something about Lloyd makes me retract all my feminist beliefs and my rational decisions. My friends and family think I deserve better, intellectually I know that he needs to step up and be a man, but there is a big part of me that just loves him, you know? As much as I don't want to, and I'm fighting it, I just want him to love me.

Ugh. I can't even stand the sound of myself!! It's stupid. I'm hopeful that his hold on me will dissipate, somehow, sometime, and I'll be able to move on. Til then, I just focus on the good stuff.

know when to fold 'em

2010-03-09T16:14:00.002+08:00

Following up to the events of my last blog post, I am still in contact with Lloyd, known colloquially as The Most Unsuitable Boy In The World. His calls and texts have been steady, and he asked me to go out with him to dinner, the movies, just to hang out. I weakened, and weakened, and weakened... eventually consenting to seeing him after he admitted he had made a major mistake and wanted/needed me in his life.

I am definitely The Biggest Hypocrite In The World, having always scoffed at women who had those on/off relationships and who took back men who had treated them poorly.

I'm not admitting (either to him or to you, dear readers) to us being back together, but we have seen each other a couple of times and it's been wonderful. Easy. Honest. Better than before. He's been opening up to me, admitting he's scared and self-sabotaging because he really likes me. None of this excuses or explains his previous attitude, and it certainly doesn't mean that another freak out / break up won't happen. I have made a couple of casual dates with new guys, which I think prompted Lloyd to realise what he was missing out on. So obvious. But yes, I am a sucker for it. I just missed him intensely while we were apart, and being with him feels better than being without him. What's a crazy nutjob girl to do??

I saw Doc A yesterday and he was surprisingly supportive about the situation. I thought he would roll his eyes and poke fun at me for being so human LOL. But after I had filled him in on all the goings on, he said that maybe it was worth another shot and that everyone deserves a second chance. I guess when it (IF it) gets to third, fourth, twenty-ninth chances he might change his mind!!

I am still in a state of confusion, and planning to date other people for the next couple of weeks while I sort my head out. Lloyd is not thrilled, but understands - I think.

All of your comments on the previous were completely true, and accurate, and echoed things I've told myself over and over again. I don't know how it's possible to forgive him, and still care about him, but it JUST IS...

you gotta know when to hold 'em

2010-03-07T08:50:00.003+08:00

Lloyd broke up with me on Wednesday night. By text message - classy. And every day since then he has contacted me trying to get me to see him "as friends". I think he probably means the friends with benefits kind of friend LOL. I was devastated at first, I'm not gonna lie, there was sobbing and vomiting involved and many, many curse words. But now I am just confused. He says we get along beautifully, and have so much in common, but there are other contributing factors which mean we shouldn't "go out" as such. He had an argument online with Michelle, my housemate; he says he has not lost as much weight this month as previous months, which may or may not be because he's sabotaging himself because of me (!!!); the "physical side" of our relationship is not working for him (yet he has tried to booty call me twice since breaking up with me)... yada yada yada.

Ultimately, I have come to the conclusion that he just isn't ready for any kind of commitment. In many ways, he is like a 15 year old boy - messy, disorganised, sex-focused, immature - and I think as we grew closer and bonded more it scared the crap out of him. What a fricken cliche!!! I have been so laidback and easygoing, not demanding anything from him in the way of labels or commitments, so I can only imagine the freakout is entirely in his own head. What has really upset me is that he won't leave me alone since telling me it wasn't working. I wish he would just leave me to heal and move on. I am trying to get my head around the idea of going back on the internet dating roundabout and finding someone else, even though it's soon. I think that getting back on the horse, so to speak, might be the only way I stay sane...

love and other bruises

2010-02-27T19:41:00.003+08:00

One of the issues I'm fighting on a daily basis, having started to expose my body to another human being again, is my self-loathing, which can verge on the pathological. As lots of my readers know, I had weight loss surgery 2 and a half years ago and since then have lost 100 pounds. I still have at least 50 pounds to lose before I'm even close to "ideal weight" for my height, and sadly most of those extra pounds have formed a tight knit association with my thighs. I lost more from my upper half, especially chest region more's the pity, so now I have a disturbingly pear-shaped body. But, as I know, as I tell myself over and over and over again, it's better to be lighter and healthier and I wouldn't want to be 370 pounds again. At least it's gone, even though it took my impressive chest with it.

One of the things I find interesting and appealing about the new bloke, Lloyd, is that he had weight loss surgery last April. He's lost even more weight than I have, and is doing amazingly well and is terribly "gung ho" about weight loss. He inspires me to want to lose more, and is encouraging, but part of me wonders when it will be okay for me to just BE. To finally learn to love myself and my body, without planning umpteen ways in which to change and improve it. Where does the balance lie between wanting to be fitter and healthier and thinner and wanting to unconditionally love myself? Where does that balance lay for Lloyd?? I understand that I'm not happy with myself, or my body, so it makes sense that he would be encouraging me to lose weight if it's something I want. But what if I can't, won't, don't lose more weight? What if it's more important to put my energy into accepting myself for the flawed and fat person I genuinely am? When does it become okay to just relax and let the flab fall where it may?

I've struggled with this question so much, for so many years, but the issue is more acute now I share my physical being with another person. I suppose I open myself up to opinion, comment and yes, criticism, by bearing my body and soul to him. Don't get me wrong, he doesn't judge me or criticise my weight, and if anyone knows what it's like to be obese it's Lloyd. Which kind of makes it harder, you know... if he understands how much a person can loathe themselves, why can't he just worship me for who I am right now? To answer my own question, he does worship me, but he is unfailingly honest and upfront about everything - weight included. Would I prefer that he lie to me about my weight the way Mr Ex did, even as I slowly killed myself with food? No. No, no no.

The last week has been especially hard, hormonally challenged as I am, and I cried in front of him for the first time. He was brilliant, empathetic without being patronising, but not even being cared for in that way could ease the intense loathing I felt at the moment for my scarred and ugly body. I wish there was a pill I could take for self-hatred, a potion that could render me carefree and confident. I worry sometimes that even if/when I lose the next 50 pounds I will still feel like the fat failure. That's the problem with mirrors in the mind, I suppose.

shiny, shiny, bad times behind me...?

2010-02-24T08:05:00.004+08:00

In the middle of Week 3 of my new "relationship" and it seems like all is well. As well as can be expected when you factor in my general insecurities and mentalness and the fact that he is by-and-large used to his own company. I still enjoy every minute we're together, and try not to ruin every minute we're apart with my incessant ponderings/stress attacks. Being vulnerable again after a time spent solo is such a big deal, as described here in this terrific post by Ruby Tuesday. I don't think I am particularly adept at it, the raunching and relaxing with someone...it's been quite some time since I was last intimate with anyone, and 12 years since I was last with someone new. Having to negotiate the likes/dislikes and (ahem) nooks and crannies is definitely a learning curve, but I am giving it the old college try! The payoff is worth it, naturally, and I imagine that the closeness and comfort we find in each other means that the relationship is also worth it. I am trying hard to avoid Future Speculation. It's early days, and there are some fairly substantial issues we have to negotiate before any talk of Happy Ever After. But Happy Right Now - that I can do.

Doc A was surprised and happy to find that since we'd last met I had started seeing someone seriously. I saw him on Monday and he was full of constructive advice, naturally, especially about making sure that I maintain the other parts of my life that are non-Lloyd-related. He said something like "only one sixth of you is the part in the relationship, the other 5/6 are doing their own thing". Which is fine in practise but truly difficult to achieve in real terms. I have to fight the impulse that says we need to be with each other all the time, and share every damn thing. I have to curb the tendency I have to share every minute detail with him and with everyone else ABOUT him. I have to maintain perspective and rationality and composure and good sense and try to be in my Wise Mind. But part of me wants to lose myself completely and love unreservedly and dive head first. I think this is an ongoing struggle, and one I need to keep an eye on. It feels like I have to be suspicious of feeling too good, but also suspicious of the Negative Nancy voice that tries to sabotage and second guess. Yikes. It was certainly easier in many ways to live a solo, single, simple life.

I wouldn't trade him for anything, though. It's wonderful to talk and laugh with someone special, and to be cuddled by a 6ft 7 in giant of a man makes me feel like a delicate flower lol. Even if it lasts but a minute, I am happy.

you'll be the prince and I'll be the princess*

2010-02-15T08:57:00.004+08:00

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, and although I spent it in an untraditional setting, I did get to spend it with my favourite man. It's almost impossible to believe it's been just over a week since we met. Things are moving fast, but with purpose, you know? Like there's something strong at the core, and the surface is just there for it's own sake. Whether we go here or there, say this or that, the connection transcends everything. Last night he said to me it's like we've skipped the casual dating and are already close/committed. I try to hold back and put on the brakes, because that's what I'm "supposed" to do (build trust, get to understand him, delay sex, yada yada) but what feels right is to just give myself over to the experience and enjoy every minute we have together.

Whether this backfires and ends up hurting like hell, well, that remains to be seen. The way my heart works, it wouldn't matter how many hours we'd spent together or what intimacy we had or hadn't shared. If I like him, and it goes sour, it hurts. SO I may as well go with it, and risk my heart. It won't kill me! I feel surprisingly strong, too, as though a bad result won't derail me and undo all the good I've done in therapy over the last year. I haven't breached the mentalness subject except for mentioning I've suffered depression (so has he), but other than that I've been extremely honest about what I want and how I feel. It's well-received by him, and reciprocated... and I think the honest rapport we have is one of the reasons I'm confident.

It's so hard to know whether to be a romantic and just believe, or to be a cynic and just mistrust. I think a mixture of the two is probably the best outcome. I'm a bit of a true believer when it comes to love, though, and it feels SO AMAZING to be at the start of something that may be worth believing in. Valentine's Day rocked this year, and it's hard to picture being happier than I was eating chocolate and watching the sunset with my baby...

(*Taylor Swift - "Love Story")

a lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment

2010-02-10T08:11:00.001+08:00

Take the Quiz here!

the dizzy, dancing way you feel

2010-02-09T13:00:00.002+08:00

Here’s the best and the worst thing about life. You never know when it’s going to surprise you, and throw you the most amazing unexpected curve ball that changes everything. This is what’s happened to me, people.

My date with Bachelor No 2 was a bit of a non-event, no sparkage and heavy-effort conversation, and he took three phone calls on his cell phone during our date, which I found a bit rude. So he went into the “no, thank you” pile. A week later, along comes a new prospect, who sounded great in his profile but you just never know. It's easy to write a great profile, not so easy to impress in person. We talked for a couple of hours on the phone and really hit it off. Then I met him for bowling and dinner on Saturday and to use a terrible pun, I was totally bowled over! Bachelor No 3, let’s call him Lloyd, made me laugh more than anyone has in years, and he’s smart and sensitive and handsome and interesting. Most incredibly of all, HE LIKES ME. He really likes me. I am trying to play it somewhat cool, but we’ve seen each other every day since Saturday and it’s progressing nicely. For the first time ever I feel coy in writing this blog, like there are details I want to keep to myself rather than sharing every darn thing the way I usually do. Suffice to say, I can’t wipe the smile off my face and the hope in my heart is stronger than ever. I’m determined to enjoy this as long as it lasts and try not to sabotage it with my crazy ways.

Thank you to the always gorgeous Joni Mitchell for today's title, it's from Both Sides Now.

dude looks like a lady

2010-01-29T08:09:00.003+08:00

I have another internet-introduction date this evening, and it's brought with it the requisite anxiety and self-questioning. What should I wear? Hair up or down? Flat shoes or heels (this was easily answered as Bachelor Number 2 is shorter than me). The most pressing question is one most of you can relate to, probably, which is whether to tell, and when and how to tell, Bachelor # 2 about the mentalness. It's something I haven't discussed yet with Doc A, but will, as it's been weighing heavily on my mind. Bachelor # 1, the new friend mentioned in my last couple of posts, doesn't know either apart from a vague reference I made to "stress-related difficulties" at my last job. It's something I want to be able to share, but how on earth do I tell someone new, someone who is just starting to get to know my personality, that I'm diagnosed with a Personality Disorder?? I feel like I'd have a better shot if they really knew me first, rather than freaking them out from the first moment. Obviously this isn't a question that needs answering on Date One, but I worry that a new man will feel lied to and betrayed if this isn't brought up at an early stage.

Would welcome any feedback and advice, as always!

In other news, work plods along comfortably and I'm still having a great time living with Michelle. The weather's been diabolical, boiling hot, and we're suffering without airconditioning at work now as well as at home. Roll on Autumn. I feel like I'm in a "no news is good news" phase, so my apologies for not updating this blog regularly. Apart from the new and exciting/terrifying world of dating, I am in a fairly equilibrious state. That's probably not even a word, but y'all know what I mean. This is a good thing, right, being stable and boring and functioning with all cylinders?? Not to say there aren't days when it's a struggle to get out of bed and get to work, or days when I want to run away screaming, but mostly I think I'm doing okay. There's always that nasty niggling nagging feeling at the back of my mind that says "this can't last", but I try not to listen. Oh how I try...

back on the chain gang

2010-01-18T07:49:00.002+08:00

First day back at work after a month away. It's so much harder than I imagined...coming back. At least everyone was off, as the place closed its doors for four weeks, so there's not the usual paranoia of returning to work wondering who said what about me when and why. But there is the concern that I've forgotten HOW. How to do my job, how to smile and nod and chatter politely. What did you do on your holidays Lil? No stories of travel, of exotic parties, of outings and such. A lot of sleep, brought on by boredom, inertia and the ever-present vague pulse of panic that was easier to avoid by nodding off. The good thing about Being Back is that I have some time very morning to blog and visit blogs, which is harder at home using Michelle's laptop.

My date on Wednesday last was perfectly charming. We had a lot of fun, he beat me at bowling, he bought me lunch, we talked and laughed a lot. He has an interest in someone else, someone who was just a couple of days ahead of me in the internet matching stakes, so it seems we will remain in that Just Friends zone. There's no JUST about it, according to me, because I need friends more than I need random lovers. So I am thrilled to have made it onto his friends' roster and already feel my life is richer through knowing him. Whether I have the nerve to do it again, the whole meeting and greeting thing, with another boy, remains to be seen. It takes it out of me, even in a friendship scenario... esp. as I am currently languishing a little in the doldrums. Probably just a matter of waiting until the upswing.

I will be your Ferdinand and you my wayward girl

2010-01-07T12:33:00.006+08:00

The problem with rejection is that when it visits it brings all it's obscure relatives that you'd forgotten. The cute guy who didn't add you on Facebook, the guy at work who never noticed you, the boy at school who called you a loser...they all come calling when some new rejection rears its head. To clarify, I don't really feel rejected by what's happened, but it did bring to mind other slights and disappointments, and I automatically believed the rejection came from my innate ugliness, weight and self-esteem issues.

Clarification. For the last week and a bit I've developed a great email exchange with a guy from my internet dating site. He's someone special - smart, funny and kind, and I'm planning to meet him next week. The bummer came a couple of days ago when he told me he'd started seeing another woman from the site, and as he's (in his words) a "one woman man", he can only meet me as a friend. Which is great, truly, because who knows if we would have any chemistry anyway. Perhaps this man and I would have ended up as "just" friends, even if we WERE both single. But I was hurt and disappointed that the opportunity is no longer there. We're still emailing every day, and have an awesome connection (SO much in common) and I can't wait to meet him on Wednesday. I felt a bit sad and rejected (that whole "what about me?" scenario) but I'm cool with it now.

I can't even believe I'm the same person I was six months ago. So far this year I've been out almost every day (movies, lunch, coffee, bowling) and I've actually made a new friend. The new medication mix is definitely working for me, and I'm trying hard to not fall back into old patterns (eg: becoming obsessed with my new friend and making my whole life about him). I see Doc A on Monday, so am planning to update him on all this! Good timing, hopefully he can help me to keep up my good work!

(Belle & Sebastian rock today's title, from Piazza New York Catcher - also on Juno soundtrack!)

almost didn't notice the roses

2010-01-03T22:05:00.003+08:00

It seems like 2010 is shaping up to be a strange and wonderful year. Bring it on, I say! Christmas was a bit of a challenge, mostly because of my grandmother staying with us. She went into care at a nursing home a month ago and came out for a couple of days over Christmas. Although the place we chose for her is top-notch in many ways, with million dollar views over the city and river and the highest patient-staff ratio in the city, she continually complains about being unhappy. I'm not sure what she expects from us, we cared for her as well as we could, for as long as we could (five years) and now her health has deteriorated to the point where she needs professional care. But she seems to think we moved her into care for our own amusement, or from spite. And perhaps believes if she complains and snivels enough we will move her back home. None of these things are true. In the end, I am ashamed to admit I was pleased to come back here to my own new home, and drop her off at hers, and lalalala try to pretend none of it was happening. Being back at my parents' place was okay, but overall it made me happy I am here in my rockin' duplex with Michelle.

Michelle is a joy, she's literally one of the funniest people I have ever met and we entertain ourselves for hours making up songs, shouting random witticisms at each other, and contemplating life. We're planning on having a kick-ass year, including a massive costume bash for my 40th birthday in June. The other day we bought Singstar for PS2 on ebay and plan to harrass our neighbours with our tuneless fun hahaha.

Another area of life that's surprising me is my social uprising. I decided that I wanted to put myself out there a bit, and perhaps meet some new friends, so I signed up to an internet dating site - yikes!! It's a good site, and more detailed and meaningful in its profiles, so I'm seeing some high quality matches, which is nice. I hold out much hope for 2010! At the very least I am going to have some new friends to invite to my party :D

I am still on a month's vacation from work, so am borrowing Michelle's laptop to access the internet - so if it seems I am not around the blogosphere so much, then that's the reason. I am still trying to keep up with everyone, even if I don't get the chance to comment!

Previous blog title is from an Iron & Wine song, today's courtesy of Taylor Swift's Our Song

cuddle some men they'll remember you bitterly

2010-01-01T20:45:00.002+08:00

I have typed this blasted thing twice and my borrowed laptop has crashed, am now giving up on blogging for the day. I'm alive and well, and wish all a safe , truthful and happy 2010 xx

drawn to those ones that ain't afraid

2009-12-08T07:59:00.003+08:00

I'm really not good with change. One of the precursors, perhaps even catalysts, to my last psychotic break was shifting offices - the entire company moved across town to a newer, fancier office space which was my very idea of hideousness. Our old building was opposite a park, walking distance to the comfort of retail outlets and various cafes, and the office layout was cubicle style. I shared my cubicle with people I almost-liked. Then we moved to a street shared with a brothel and a methadone clinic where our entire company was set out over one huge floor, in open-plan setting, and my desk was adjacent to a couple of the loudest, most irritating telephonists and also near enough that I could overhear every critical comment directed at me from the woman known as the Notorious B.I.T.C.H. My paranoia, OCD, introversion, hysteria and the like escalated to the point that within a month I could no longer do my job and was put on medical leave (never to return).

I guess my point is that I need to make sure I'm doing okay with this new massive change in my life. Loneliness and abstract terror aside, am I managing to readjust and get in to some kind of groove? On the plus side, I am in good therapy now and have working medication (unlike prior to my breakdown when the huge dose of sertraline I was taking was making things worse rather than better). On the negative, I don't really have any stability in other areas of my life - although I've been at my job for 7 months now (can you believe how fast time passes??) I still feel like most people there consider me at worst a destructive influence, at best a hard-working annoyance. I'm determined to work at it, and stay there, because it's proving to be a great way to work through some of my Borderline issues and tendencies. But it's not the most comforting place to be and consequently I'm in a state of unease (disease? lol) at home as well as at work.

Knowing all this, and being self-aware and mindful (love that DBT), I believe I can claw my way to a state of security and calm. In some ways, the odds are probably against it, but one thing the odds don't take into account is my sheer bloody-mindedness haha!! I swear, that is more powerful than any medication or therapy for getting me through hell and high water. I simply refuse to let my illness, other people, fate, Satan, or what-ever beat me down. Dylan Thomas would say "rage, rage against the dying of the light", P!nk would say "don't let me get me". I like to quote the game show and shout NO DEAL.

dressed like a punk you were too young to remember

2009-12-07T08:28:00.004+08:00

Had a great session with Doc A on Thursday, where I rambled about my babyish fears and feelings of separation anxiety from my family, and he made the predictable, yet accurate, statements about the challenges of individuation and such. I sometimes think that my main gain from therapy is the validation, which seems so irritating because it's a basic service I shouldn't need to pay $250 an hour for, and for which Doc A needn't have studied for ten years! I could have just recorded my own voice on a tape recorder saying "you are fine, you are okay, yes you have reasons to be angry, yes it's okay to feel sad". Aaargh. I'm kidding, really, I know there's more to it and that the work I'm doing with Doc A has helped my Ego gain control over the rampaging Id and all that Jungian palaver. In the end, I can say 100% that therapy is worth the effort and the financial outlay - I'm "better" with it than without it I guess. That's what it comes down to with medication, too. If I function more effectively, and feel happier and more peaceful on fluoxetine and amisulpride, then I'll keep taking it.

In other news, I had a brief reawakening of my mojo a couple of weeks ago, brought about by a flirtatious afternoon with my 18-year-old coworker Logan. Innappropriate, who me?? It's interesting to me that I could actually FEEL myself becoming BPD-ish, and more importantly could head my obsessive fantasies off at the pass, as if they were runaway brumbies lol. He's a lovely lad, and if I was twenty (or even ten haha!) years younger I'd give it a red hot go, but really - even I know where to draw the line. Logan is the only man who works for the Foundation, and Michelle said to me maybe I'd fixated on him because I missed male company and Logan was the only male in my environment... Probably true! I'm not exactly falling over blokes in my current life. Most of the time I don't want one (a bloke that is), but sometimes it's nice to imagine. I'm relieved that my fancying Logan was a short and sweet moment in time, rather than a long drawn-out obsessive crush like that last two workmates I flirted with. Maybe I really AM becoming well??

(Belle & Sebastian provide today's song lyric - "I'm a Cuckoo")

and i hate elevator music...the way we fight

2009-12-02T07:50:00.002+08:00

I'm a big, fat, bawling, slack-jawed baby.

I miss having a fully-stocked fridge and pantry.
I hate having to add up in my head how much it costs to buy cheese AND crackers.

I miss air-conditioning.
I hate having to grovel to property managers about broken ceiling fans.

I miss green garden beds and roses.
I hate stupid weeds and overgrown garden mess.

I miss my mom cooking three nights a week.
I hate having to organise my own meals every damn day.

I miss window locks and safety screens.
I hate worrying about thieves, rapists and murderers.

I miss my dog and my other cat.
I miss the swimming pool.
I miss having the internet and email at home.
I miss someone noticing if I'm too sick to get out of bed.

There are plenty of things I don't miss about living with my family. Notably, the extra 2 hours bus transport every day. But it's a massive adjustment, and sometimes I catch myself in the mindset that it's a temporary move, as if I'm on vacation somewhere alone and will end up back in the family home before long. Of course, that's not true, nor do I WANT it to be true.

I guess I'm just waiting for time to pass, and for it to seem normal/acceptable/okay that I am lacking all those things listed above. I know it will happen. Meantime I'm Cliche-Girl - keeping my chin determinedly up, soldiering on, hanging in there, waiting to exhale...

and i'll be willin' to be movin'

2009-11-23T08:07:00.004+08:00

Surreal though it is, I am all moved in. I feel kind of like a teenager leaving for college, without the frat parties and pillow fights, and with three nervous breakdowns and a mess of medications on my resume. In short, it's scary. No money, no family support, no hitching a lift wherever I want to go. I'm ashamed to admit that in my former daily routine my mom doled out everyone's various medications and vitamin supplements, including mine, and this morning when I had to lay out my own meds I thought I was going to cry. Pathetic!! The thing is, I KNOW I have to suck it up and cope, and I know that once I get used to flying solo it will be fun and exhilirating and inspiring (the way it used to be, back before the Mr Ex days). But this adjustment period is tough, you know? Being with Michelle is awesome, so that's one benefit, and this morning I got to work in less than half the time it usually takes. This is me, Lil, focusing on the positives...

Anyway, I am happy with how things are in the new place, everything fits (kind of) and everything looks good (mostly). Basically I have FAR TOO MUCH CRAP, and am planning to cull some of it over the next couple of months. One of the problems with living in large houses, as I've done for ten years, is that I never threw anything out -- consequently, I found a lot of things while unpacking that I thought "What??" Stupidly, one of the things I found was my quarter-written book about I. Oliver, and even more stupidly I re-read the thing and no doubt that contributed to my slightly dark mood. Decent writing, but such a sad time in my life.

We don't have internet connection at home yet, so I am having to check emails, blog, etc from work, so forgive me if I'm not around as much. I also am having issues commenting on Blogger blogs, for some strange reason - it comes up saying error on page. Hannah and Ruby Tuesday, I particularly wanted to send big loves to you both but have been unable ): I also can't seem to comment on my own posts, hence the clumsy edit situation on my previous post. Is this why people have been abandoning Blogger for Wordpress?? Can't say I blame them, as it's driving me to distraction.

(Linda Rondstadt - "Willin'")

meditating in the mosh pit

2009-11-16T19:14:00.003+08:00

The title of today's post comes from a book rather than a song lyric. I don't "do" book reviews, have always been better at reading books than describing them to others, however I wanted to express how much I loved reading Introvert Power by Laurie Helgoe. It helped me see that it's okay to want to avoid chit chat at work, and to wish some folks would just shut the heck up already! I'm not "anti-social" because I prefer my own company to that of most other people, and it explained why and how I gain such joy from my rich Virtual World. Introvert Power claims that more than half the population are Introverts trying to get by, and fit into, a world that it geared towards Extroverts, and that a lot of Introverts put themselves down or criticise themselves for not being more outgoing or extroverted. Definitely applies to me!

Here's the product description from Amazon:

"If you have introvert inclinations and are doubting yourself, this is a must read. Or if you know someone who exhibits introvert symptoms, read this book before calling the shrink."
- Bhante Yogavacara Rahula, author of One Night's Shelter: An Autobiography of an American Buddhist Monk

EMBRACE THE POWER INSIDE YOU
Are you an introvert? Psychologist and introvert Laurie Helgoe reveals that more than half of all Americans are. Introverts gain energy and power through reflection and solitude. Our culture, however, is geared toward the extrovert. The pressure to enjoy parties, chatter, and interactions can lead people to think that an inward orientation is a problem instead of an opportunity.

Helgoe shows that the exact opposite is true: Introverts can capitalize on this inner source of power. INTROVERT POWER is a groundbreaking call for an introvert renaissance, a blueprint for how introverts can take full advantage of this hidden strength in daily life. Supplemented by the voices of several introverts, Helgoe presents a startling look at introvert numbers, influence, and economic might.

Revolutionary and invaluable, INTROVERT POWER includes ideas for how introverts can learn to:

Claim private space
Carve out time to think
Bring a slower tempo into daily life
Create breaks in conversation and relationships
Deal effectively with parties, interruptions, and crowds

QUIET IS MIGHT. SOLITUDE IS STRENGTH. INTROVERSION IS POWER.

And a quote from inside the book:

Introverts generally prefer a rich inner life to an expansive social life, we would rather talk intimately with a close friend than share stories with a group and we prefer to develop our ideas internally rather than interactively.

Hooray, I actually feel like someone out there, maybe lots of "someones" understand me. I know from my friends here in the "madosphere" that there are a lot of people struggling with the pressure to be constantly "up" and "on" in our lives. Laurie Helgoe's book is written in a light-hearted yet forthright way, and was an easy read as well as an interesting one.

I'm currently reading "The Dance of Anger" so maybe that'll be my next "non-review" lol...

EDIT/ADD ON
For some reason Blogger won't allow me to comment on my own posts today, so here's what I would have said in response to the comments below!

Firstly, how thrilled am I that Laurie Helgoe visited my blog and made a comment! Thank you so much Laurie. One of the things I loved most about Introvert Power is the personal tone she uses, with many anecdotes from her own life and relationships as well as quotes from other introverts. Brilliant book, I have already ordered two more copies for friends.
Coyote - I thought of you often while I was reading, there are a lot of correlations between things Laurie mentions in the book and situations you and I have experienced and discussed. Definitely look out for it.
Dreamwriter - thank you for dropping by, I always enjoy your reviews!
Lady Amanda - I know what you mean, I am more talkative than some Introverts (Laurie Helgoe calls us Socially Accessible Introverts) but definitely prefer the company of other Introverts who tend to understand my need for quiet time. I think you'd get a lot out of the book! Hugs back x

between fight and flight is the blind man's sight

2009-11-15T08:01:00.003+08:00

Herewith a brief update on the Life of Lil.

My grandmother is home from hospital, and much better. The infection has cleared up, and with its passing has come the welcome passing of the dementia (apart from her normal 91- year-old befuddledness). The Aged Care Assessment Team have recommended, though, that she be placed in permanent care now her health is deteriorating, unless one of us can be home with her at all times. That's just not financially possible as we aren't entitled to any carer's allowances from the government, and both my parents are still working. Usually Nanna is only home one or two days a week on her own, but that's too much now. So we've started the process of finding a decent nursing home for her. She's quite happy about the idea, as she gets lonely here on her own and while she was in hospital she told us she enjoyed having other people around all the time. There are a few places locally, and we'll try to get her in to somewhere nicer and newer with a good reputation. Aged care seems to be one of those areas that there is a major difference between the top and bottom "levels" even though it's supposed to be regulated and checked by the government.

In the midst of all this, Michelle and I finally heard on Friday that we got our house! We're signing the lease on Monday, and I have started the daunting task of packing. So far, there are 11 boxes OF BOOKS ALONE! We have a study nook/office area at the new place which Michelle has suggested I set up as a reading room - which is a great idea and such a relief as I wouldn't know where to put all the darn books otherwise. I can't part with them, though, they have been my best friends through the years. What is weird, given my bizarre childhood and tenuous relations with family, is that it seems strange and scary to be moving away from my mom. We've only become close in the last few years, partly through living together and sharing the care of nanna. Especially in the last 12 months, during my breakdown, we've actually connected on an adult and non-angry level. I hope that doesn't change once I'm gone from here. She's been supportive and positive about the move, which is awesome. For the first time in 12 years I'm going to be living solo, albeit with a roomie!

Mostly, I am thrilled about the opportunity to form my own independent life again and to live with Michelle will be a lot of fun. We have a lot in common and are more like sisters (she's 13 years younger than me). I can't wait to be closer to the city, and to my workplace, and to be released from the watching nanna, cooking, cleaning regime. Obviously my own place will need cleaning, and my own meals need cooking, but not in the same institutional way! I bought a new washing machine and a vacuum cleaner as well as some of the boring domestic supplies. The big moving day is Saturday 21st November. Wish me luck!!

Health-wise, I am still thriving on the current med combination and am managing to sleep well. I have my neurologist appointment tomorrow to find out more about the Borderline Chiari Malformation that showed up on my MRI. The headaches are still there, but I'm dealing with them, so if nothing comes from the specialist then it's no big deal. I'd rather avoid the "removing part of my skull" operation if at all possible LOL.

turn and face the change

2009-11-08T09:08:00.003+08:00

This is a partial reprint of the online ad for my potential new home. We still haven't heard from the agent, but it can take up to two weeks for them to decide on the successful tenant. Meanwhile, the agent gets to keep my $260 "option fee" until the decision is made.

Speaking of decisions, three days ago my mum and I took my nanna to the Emergency Department as her pulmonary infection was not improving, even with antibiotics and (even more alarmingly) she was showing signs of delirium. She is usually quite lucid and aware, even though she is almost 91, but Thursday she began to act strangely (like sitting in bed in the dark trying to read and telling us about apparations she had seen, flowers on the ceiling etc). Her GP Doc thought it might be delirium caused by the chest infection so we took her straight to the ER on Friday when she was no better. Six hours later she was admitted to a ward and it seems now that she has sudden onset dementia which may or may not improve once the infection is cleared up. My brother works in aged care and he seems to think that sometimes, often, that kind of mental deterioration is permanent. In a way, it's okay because she actually seems very happy and relaxed in her "new world" whereas usually she would be angry and stressed about being sick. She recognises us but doesn't really have any "context" for things, and is content to sit beside her hospital bed gazing out the window. We were really concerned that she would be frustrated at having to stay in hospital, but that hasn't happened at all.

It's disturbing, having had a mostly coherent grandmother for almost 40 years and now, practically overnight, seeing her change into a muddled childlike person. I'm surprised by how upsetting it is. I can't stop thinking about all the things I shared with nanna that she will (probably) now forget, leaving me as the only "keeper of the memory". We were very close when I was growing up, she was a substitute for my own mother whom I was not close to, we would cook and play cards and watch TV. I especially loved the TV as my own house didn't have one until I was 14 (stupid intellectual parents LOL).

Mr Ex usually comes over to see the dog and cats on Sundays and this morning he texted me to say he couldn't make it. I called him back to tell him about nanna, as he was close to her when we were together (having never had his own grandparents around). I was irritated with myself as I teared up and then cried while telling him, and allowed myself to be comforted by him, and then I was angry because I let myself be vulnerable. He was understanding and kind, basically he is a decent person, and I suppose it's hard to break the habit after ten years of being supported by him. Such a lot of mixed emotions today and it's not even 10am haha!

six months on, the winter's gone*

2009-11-05T14:59:00.003+08:00

My friend Michelle and I submitted an application for a rental house this morning. Very VERY exciting, and also completely terrifying (in the way of all great things lol). Am I sane enough to leave the comfort and safety of sharing a house with my parents? Can I keep working and therefore support myself financially? How will it feel to have to leave my dog and one cat behind, as logistically there is no way my new arrangement can include them? These are all things I believe I can overcome, mostly because there is NO OTHER CHOICE. I simply cannot remain in this state of flux that I've inhabited since I split up with Mr Ex and began the long process of becoming mental. I refuse to get left behind as the rest of the world, and the potential of my life, moves on without me. I feel compelled to get out there kicking and screaming, which may just be a side effect of the atypical anti-psychotic but what the hey...

It's a small-ish, grotty-ish duplex, with two bedrooms, fairly big living area and a small study nook type thing. Crapola backyard. Has my main requirement - a bath tub. One addiction I don't need to get rid of - phew. It's a mauve-lilac purple bath, actually, tres posh. The place also has ceiling fans (bonus, as jeez it's getting hot in here), a new stove, built-in robes and is 30 mins from my workplace. Currently I spent 1.5 - 2 hrs travelling each way, and oh man am I OVER that. There's a lot to be positive about, even though Michelle and I jokingly call it the "Juliette Lewis skanky duplex". It's also extremely cheap - $260 a week (for my O/S friends that's approx 138 GBP, $230USD) which is $40 a week less than most of the places we've looked at. 80% of places in Perth are over $400 a week these days, which still freaks me out. Rents have doubled in the last ten years, and I can guarantee that my wages certainly haven't increased by that much.

Anyway, apart from that there's not much news. My nanna is fairly ill with a pulmonary condition and has pretty much been bedridden all week. Am fighting the guilt about the chance of me moving out and leaving her... I have a bastard head cold, which is annoying me, and it's hot again - yuck. I've been doing well on my current medication (40mg fluoxetine a day, 10mg amisulpride, plus supplements) and Dr A told me last week he was proud of the way I had managed my work issues and was moving ahead. I know he gets paid to "validate the Borderline" but it was still nice to hear. My family are also being extremely supportive, even though me moving out will leave them financially and logistically in a hard place. My mom especially will miss me, as I share cooking, shopping, supporting roles with her. But we are looking to the future, and I need to step out from under this codependency umbrella, ella, ella....

* Belle & Sebastian - 'My Wandering Days Are Over'

they call me mellow yellow, quite rightly

2009-10-25T13:45:00.003+08:00

Greetings friends, my apologies for not updating sooner. Yes, the new medication (Solian) is working well - reducing the hair pulling and binge impulses, definitely reduced anger, and I am sleeping a lot better. It's a low dose but a good 'un! I see Dr A on Wednesday, after his month in Europe, and will be happy to report that things are fairly good. Certainly better than a couple of weeks ago.

My friend Michelle and I have our plans to move out together well underway. Sometime between now and February we'll be sharing a small house or a duplex/unit (I think y'all in the US call it a condo, like an apartment but bigger and usually with ground floor access?). We've seen a couple of places, and have narrowed down our search to a few key suburbs - all of which are closer to work than here. I am completely OVER the 1.5 - 2 hr bus trip each way. We looked at a place on Friday that was 10 mins walk away from work but sadly it had no bathtub and was suffering from a semi-permanent mould invasion. Ugh. I am so excited about living with Michelle, who is my closest friend and someone I can be honest with. She has been staying here on and off over the last few weeks and the more time I spend with her the more I am convinced that rooming together makes great sense financially as well as emotionally. Now we just have to find somewhere!

I start a three week course tomorrow on Flower Essences and herbal remedies, which is something my mom and I are interested in. It'll be nice to do the course with her, and I am also booked into a goal setting course next month. Hopefully I will still feel well enough to do the course by then...the problem with feeling well is that sometimes I commit myself to things that I end up regretting!

So far, the only side effect I've felt from the Solian is a dry mouth, and the fact that I'm slightly drowsy - but as I take it before bed anyway, that's no biggie. I'm finding that slightly numb effect to be welcome, even though mentally I struggle with the idea of blunting and how it detaches me from my necessary emotions of anger, frustrations, etc. I think that for the next few months, to find accommodation for next year and to finish my two courses as well as complete the semester at work, I need all the help I can get. Dr A says the ultimate goal is to reduce or stop medication completely, but it may take years to get there. I am so impatient, want everything now now now now now haha!! But I am trying to look at this as an investment, and will take the anti-psychotic while it helps.

Spending time with my friends and family has kept me away from my virtual world, and I MISS YOU ALL! Hope to catch up soon.

why is the last mile the hardest mile?

2009-10-13T19:04:00.003+08:00

Three weeks ago Dr A gave me a prescription for an atypical antipsychotic, and tonight I started taking amisulpride (aka Solian). I wasn't keen to start a new medication while Doc was lazing on a beach in Portugal, but really, the last week has been hellish and I'm hoping for some kind of miracle. It's a low dose, but it's possible that it will help to stablise my moods and help with the trichotillomania, binge eating, angry freakouts, etc. When he wrote the script Dr A said it could keep me up all night, or help me sleep, and I'm desperately hoping it'll be the latter. So damn tired, so sick of the nightmares I'm having.

I took a personal day off from work today, after waking up with that utterly helpless feeling, knowing I would not be able to summon the strength to face the world. I spent the morning writing a list of all the crap I have to worry about, which (weirdly enough) helped. I'm now attempting to prioritise these things, and will work through them one at a time. Sigh. My dog had to have $500 worth of x-rays a couple of weeks ago, after rupturing her cruciate ligament jumping down from her groomer's table for goodness sake! Whose dog DOES that? So unfortunately, my divorce is temporarily on hold. But I still plan on doing it as soon as I save up the money again. I have also contacted Mr Ex regarding a few loose ends, possessions, etc, and it felt quite decent to be assertive. I am still overwhelmed with resentment and anger about a lot of things regarding our marriage/his lies. And I suppose one day that will all have to be dealt with.

I logged on here today and found I had one less follower. Nick Drake just the last straw, huh? LOL. My friend Kate once mentioned how easy it is as a blogger to place stock on who has you on their blog lists, and who follows you, and she is (as usual) right. It sucks that someone abandoned me while I was down!! I'm kidding, but you know what I mean, right? I have another friend who warned me, and rightly so, about the indulging in melancholy music when I'm already feeling low. I'm terribly prone to that, so have avoided all tear-jerking emo type music today! Apart from the blog post title, which is courtesy of Morrissey.

One of the bright moments in the last week has been my kick arse friends, in the real world and the virtual. It helps so much to know other people know what the black dog looks like, and how persistently he hangs around hoping for some scraps of sadness. Another bright spot was seeing Whip It - a movie that may be responsible for my unattractive and clumsy entry to the sport of roller derby!! If only I could a) skate, b) think of a good derby name and c) wear fishnets without resembling an overstuffed bag of oranges. LOVED the movie and am determined to live the tagline - BE YOUR OWN HERO!

black eyed dog he knew my name

2009-10-12T20:14:00.004+08:00

Nick Drake was born on June 19 - the same date as me and Heath Ledger was born in Perth, Western Australia - the same city as me. It's weird how things overlap, and the fact that one of the last things Heath Ledger worked on before he died was a tribute film clip to my favourite Nick Drake song definitely gives me a shiver or two.

Things are tenuous here, as my posting of this clip suggests. But I know that I can wait out the blues and things will improve again. So much to say, so little energy to describe it properly. It's mundane and parochial but hey, it's my life. Managing to eat (a little too much), sleep (somewhat less than the necessary amount), go to work (if begrudgingly) and stave off bankruptcy (for the moment). All else resides in the too hard basket, and I apologise for my lack of substance around y'all's blogs lately. I will be back. In Nick Drake's words things will be Bryter Layter.

the story is old, I know, but it goes on*

2009-10-03T20:27:00.004+08:00

A friend of mine, John at www.myranting.co.uk, wrote a short story once that said, in part : There's just something missing right now. I'm not sure what it is. But whatever it is, it's not fuckin' there. A big void in my soul that I've tried to fill with every single kind of nonsense that I can possibly think of. This statement has always struck a chord with me, as it describes the way I've felt all my life. It explains SO MANY poor choices...the wrong men I pursued, in the wrong ways...the terrible/wonderful substances with which I've abused my body...the obsessions, hobbies, compulsions, images, personas, vendettas, friendships, all of which inevitably failed to fill that void that I call the Big BPD Empty.

It's only now, nine months after my official diagnosis with Borderline Personality Disorder, that I am starting to feel the void getting smaller. And it's amazing to me that I never realised the way to heal my heart was from the inside out. Always wanting to push/shove/stuff things IN to myself, there wasn't room for the growth of what wanted to come OUT. That sounds slightly gross, lol, I swear this isn't one of my posts about bodily functions! I guess what I am trying, poorly, to say is that all along the substance that was needed to fill my Big Empty was stuff that already existed in ME. It's not one thing, it seems to be a grunge-coloured mixture of fury, joy, terror and rapture at the moment... but it's definitely true and real and all that hippy stuff haha. It seems like the more work I do at finding out how I really feel and think about things (my self, my life), the less that void threatens to engulf me.

I had my last session with Dr A this week before his month-long vacation - now I'm flying solo for four weeks, when I usually see him once a week. I think it's a good opportunity for me to see how I travel without him to keep me on track, and maybe it will all go down the tubes by the end of October but there's a good chance it won't. Although I've never been a member of AA I know enough to be able to quote one of the sayings of the 12 Steppers - "it works if you work it". That definitely applies to my battle against the Big Empty. Even though sometimes I would rather stay in bed and/or drink gin and/or eat a truckload of junkfood and/or pull my hair out by the handful I know that the hard work is where the reward lies. Damn it.

(*The Smiths - Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me)

i turned my face away and i dreamed about you

2009-09-27T17:54:00.007+08:00

I have this weird theory that when I dream about certain people, it means they are dreaming about me (or thinking about me, if that person resides in a different time zone lol). Clearly this doesn't relate to the strange dream I had once about being in Starbucks with George Clooney... sadly. But I had a dream recently about a bloke I call The One That Got Away. We've all got one, well most of us, someone who was always at the back of our minds, and in our lives, as a potential mate but the timing was wrong, the the situation was impossible, and thus the person remains just a friend. In my case, even the friendship was lost due to Steve (TOTGA) moving across the country and us losing touch. But I think about him often, and he is one of the few people that I can imagine being in a relationship with without wanting to run away screaming, or start gagging. I think it's partly because the trust is there, you know, it's not like starting fresh with some guy who may or may not turn out to be an axe murderer or a mouth breather.

I met Steve through a cult I used to hang with. It was one of those quasi-interpersonal cults, focused on self-reflection rather than a residential David Koresh/Jim Jones deal with a fatal end result. Both of us moved away from the cult, actually I think the Puerto Rican leader went to jail for embezzlement or something, but our friendship was solid. One of the things the cult believed in was the soul astral travelling to another plane while we slept, so maybe that's one of the reasons I imagine Steve is dreaming about me when I dream of him. It was one of those realistic dreams when I asked a number of times in the dream "I'm not dreaming, am I?" but of course, the fantasy ends and I wake up still having not seen or spoken to TOTGA since 1994. Steve is the main reason I am on the Evil Empire of Facebook, just in case he ever wants to find me...

Things in therapy have been getting to a flashpoint, if that's the right word. It's hard work sometimes, a lot of the time really, but recently I feel like it's starting to pay off. I'm achieving clarity in the way I view my relationships, esp with my family and their patterns of behaviour. I need to get a one-way ticket out of Martyrville. Dr A talked to me about how the "nice girl" persona I have, where I seem accommodating and easy-going, mimics my mother's passive-aggressive relationship with my nanna. She resents the hell out of nanna, bitches and moans about her and her lack of parenting and yet runs around after her and constantly puts her own needs second to my nanna's. I think I grew up thinking that was the way to win friends and influence people, but now I see that it's a massive cop out and it's SO dishonest. She (I) just doesn't want to address her (my) own desires and requirements, and then make the changes to get them. I REFUSE to be like this anymore! I'm becoming "selfish" in that I put myself and my journey first - as long as it doesn't hurt or harm others I think that's how it should be. I can love and support other people without being their "bitch" haha!!

Regardless of how difficult it is, I am aiming to live an authentic, real life someday. I'm not there yet, but I'm working on it. I decided today that regardless of the financial cost, I'm filing for divorce this week. Screw the money, I need the closure. If Mr Ex will pay for half, that's fine, but if need be I will cancel my summer vacation and spend the money getting my name back. I keep saying to myself "You go girl", and I know I can hear all your wonderful supportive voices saying the same thing. I don't say it enough, readers/friends, but thank you.

(title from the pogues/kirsty macoll (RIP) fairytale of new york)

it's only life after all*

2009-09-21T13:58:00.004+08:00

You'll laugh.

Dr A went over the report from my MRI and while I have no tumours or lesions (thank you Google Images) apparently I DO have inferior cerebellum tonsils, which consitutes a congenital brain abnormality called Chiari Malformation. Except, the degree of abnormality is such that it's know as a BORDERLINE Chiari. I kid you not. Even my brain is f'n borderline!!!!! I had to laugh. It may or may not be the cause of my headaches, so now I have to see a specialist neurologist for more testing. It's not fatal, just debilitating, and sadly it cannot take the blame for my general mental wackiness.

I can't believe I have some other blasted "Borderline" condition. Maybe I should look around for some more Borderline diagnoses, I can start a collection. It takes up less room than snow globes.

(*Closer to Fine, again!)

heaven in my hurricane

2009-09-19T20:26:00.005+08:00

This is a photograph of my brain. No cabbages, no obvious lesions, but as I have just the scans and no report, we'll have to wait and see. I have an appointment with Dr A on Monday, and the radiology clinic have faxed the report to him. During the MRI there were no audible screams of horror, or ironic chuckling, but due to my muffler-headphones and the extreme noise of the blasted machine I would probably not have heard them anyway. Nobody told me that the MRI machine would sound like putting your head in a washer/dryer. If I hadn't had a headache for the previous 3 months I would definitely have come out with one lol. It was also the most claustrophobic, anxiety-inducing experience I've had in some time... I think it's similar to my opinion of childbirth -- no-one tells you quite how horrifying it is because then no-one would ever go through it!

One of the reasons I found it so difficult was the choice of location. Seven years ago Mr Ex and I endured 6 months of stressful, painful, embarrassing, intrusive and ultimately unsuccessful fertility treatment in that very same hospital. Before yesterday's scan I had coffee in the same coffee shop where Mr Ex and I sometimes sat after various tests, phrases like "hostile mucus" and "deceased sperm" running through our heads. After my scan I used the same bathroom I sat and cried in after one or another sad meeting in which our treatment nurse Janet, or an offsider, shared the inevitable bad news of another failure. It brought back so many memories I thought I'd forgotten, or driven away with my determination to be sexily un-child-ed. But the soul doesn't forget, and the cellular memory pushed me hard in the back towards the edge yesterday...

Glad it's over. I'm not surprised my brain showed a lack of obviously-fatal tumour-shaped objects. I should be so lucky. I told my friend Michelle that I was possibly one of the few patients they had in the clinic who would have been disappointed to be NOT dying. Having a terminal illness would just put an end to all this irritating and exhausting business of living and trying and working on being well. I know, I know, I know. It's not funny. We've all lost people we love, good and special people, to tumours, cancers, lesions...But I'd be lying if I denied that a sick and twisted part of me has always hoped that there would be a denouement to my life that would render me worthwhile and purposeful.

Sadly, unless the report tells me something I couldn't find by comparing my MRI scans to Google Images of "brain lesions", it seems I must continue to find purpose in living rather than dignity in dying.

I spent some time with my oldest friend Samantha today, and her baby daughter Sierra (whom I call my niece). Here she is in all her cuddlesome glory:

Even jaded old me had to admit that life seemed to have more oomph to it when she was nearby, even though I'm sadly not the slightest bit clucky or maternal. I really have made peace with being child-free (I refuse to say child-less as if I am less of a person, less of a woman because my body won't work in certain ways). I'm thrilled and blessed to consider Sam's three kids as my nephews and niece, and perhaps one day my perennial bachelor brother will settle down and make me a genuine blood aunty! Sometimes I wonder if being a mother would have made a difference, would have somehow filled part of the gaping hole in my heart. Being back in that hospital this week certainly made me wonder at the paths we take in life, and those that we're forced down through circumstance. In the end, though, I guess where we end up is where we're supposed to be. How would Jon Kabat-Zinn describe it - "Wherever you go, there you are?" Yep, ain't that the kicker.

(NB: Today's title from P!nk "The One That Got Away")

you're an angry blade and you're brave

2009-09-17T16:44:00.005+08:00

A small update post-conference. It's been, it's done, seemed moderately successful apart from the usual technical glitches and no-shows. Sir J has moved on to his next "gig", and I am enjoying a well-earned day off.

Tomorrow I have to go and have the MRI I've been avoiding most of the year. Dr A has often said it would be useful to see what effects, if any, my lupus has had on brain function (and, ergo, depression, headaches, mania, moods, etc). I guess it will be interesting to know if any lesions are present, not that there's much they can do about them. Maybe it will turn out that I have a cabbage in my head instead of a brain haha.

Increasing my dose of fluoxetine has not helped my OCD or binge eating at all, and Dr A is suggesting a mega-low-dose anti-psychotic be added to the mix. I would then reduce to my previous low dose of fluoxetine, as the Abilify (or whatever) will be activating enough. The meds merry-go-round is so annoying, and confusing. But it would be good to not be a slave to the trich and binge rituals... Any feedback or advice from y'all would be welcome, as I know Abilify is something lots of folks have tried. Apparently the risk of weight gain is less than with other a-p drugs?

So much going on, no wonder I find it hard to sleep through the night. I am determined to not start medicating for sleep, though, as I know it's a hard road to come back from. This may sound like a negative post, but I'm feeling well. Relieved the work situation will now wind down slowly until December, when the Foundation closes for a month.

(Angry Blade - Iron & Wine)

fate has been against me from the start

2009-09-12T14:30:00.004+08:00

Not much to list these days, on the positive or the negative side of the tally. Work is completely off the chart lately. I was hired in May to co-ordinate the Foundation's biggest event of the year, which comes up next Monday and Tuesday. I've booked the venue (5 star hotel), accommodation for two speakers, managed to organise catering, invitations, name tags, checklists, and also a display of our literacy products for sale. I've even managed to sleep occasionally in between OCD flashes of inspiration/stress lol. Bottom line, I am looking forward to Wednesday when it will be all over and our visiting speaker (a Lord of the realm, gulp) will be winging his way back to the UK. Remember my last post when I lamented my lack of fashion-nouse, well let me tell you the concerns over what to wear to Dr A have paled in comparison to what to wear meeting Sir J. We also have Members of Parliament attending, high ranking public servants. Please, let Borderline Lil behave herself!

The good thing about being busy with something real, ie: work, is that it distracts me from the gigantic empty chasm that is my heart-felt life. Most of the time I cope well with being alone, spending time with friends is always a benefit and I am slowly exchanging my avoidant habits for social hobby-type things. I was talking to someone recently and realised that I have closed off my heart from even the idea of romantic/sexual relationships. Which is sad, cause once upon a time I was good at them and actually enjoyed them. Enjoyed the lead-up, the anticipation, the possibility and the consummation (ha ha). The person I was talking to is a true romantic, and it struck me that I used to be one too. These days I find it hard to remember how that felt, and why it changed. I just feel relieved that now I'm not dating I don't feel the need to study my body and catalogue its flaws, don't need to make sure my sheets are clean and my legs are stubble-free. No more second-guessing my conversation, studying the signs. For everything I miss or fondly remember about dating there are as many things that I'm relieved to leave behind.

Part of me hopes (damn hope that persistent little bitch) that I might find a place in my heart for love again. That my body and mind might be strong enough to enter the world of the relationship. I guess time will tell! In the meantime, I send out props to those of you who are still fighting the romantic fight, and putting your heart out there. In particular John, the Shane MacGowan-esque songwriter who supplied the title of today's post. You can listen to it here. If I was ten years younger and half a world from where I am, I might even develop a girly crush... Love your work, man x

when one's heart is in the way

2009-09-03T11:30:00.003+08:00

I had a phone call from Dr A this morning, wondering why I hadn't shown up for my 8:30am appointment. Because I thought it was at 3pm, I replied, truthful and embarrassed, with a part of me thrilled to have (for the first time) demonstrated behaviour outside the "acceptable". I've read so many comments about psychologists and psychiatrists not wanting to take on Borderline patients, for a lot of reasons, one of which is that they can be unreliable and cancel appointments, reschedule appointments, leave early, arrive late, in an attempt to manipulate their doctors. Or maybe they just wrote down the wrong time in their diary. It can happen! It was weird, to hear Dr A's slightly stern and questioning tone, almost apprehensive about what state he would find me in. As if I must be bed-ridden and avoiding, or molten with melancholy, unable to face him. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved to actually be just forgetful and inaccurate with my diary.

I was happy to not have to go to therapy today, not because I was any of the thing listed above, but simply because I usually don't make appointments for Thursdays. Thursday is my one day off during the working week, and I love it with a passionate intensity usually reserved for...well...I don't know what, but I used to be passionate and intense about things other than time off from work lol. These days, I just like to have my own timetable, and not have to be anywhere or see anyone. Even now I am non-avoiding, and trying to be interactive with the world, I leave Thursdays alone. The potential of them stretches out in front of me like the most inspiring and wonderful blank canvas - even though I usually just watch TV or go have coffee with my stepdad and nanna at the local shopping centre.

One of the reasons I was happy to avoid Dr A is the eternal question of WHAT TO WEAR. I have three distinct wardrobes, the Manic (push-up bras, heels, lowcut tops, dangly earrings), the Barely Functioning (track pants, sweats, anything shapeless and stretchy, preferably dark colours, greasy hair in a scrunchy) and my current wardrobe of somewhere inbetween. Inbetween is a work in progress, and I usually have to decide if I should wear a hat (which I like to do, fashion-wise), in case Dr A thinks it's because I am depressed and haven't washed my hair. I have to decide whether to wear makeup (haggard and washed out versus trying too hard and/or over-activated), whether to wear sneakers and jeans (casual or giving up?), or a flattering top and skirt (trying to transfer/crack on?). I know for a fact that how I present myself as a psychiatric patient is something that is noticed, and probably recorded and analysed. I know, I know, paranoid much? But, it's common sense to think that a shrink would take stock of my physical state as well as my mental one.

As always, as with every damn thing in my life, I over think and over stress. I can't say I lose sleep over the question (WHAT TO WEAR), but I definitely spend time on it. So after hearing from Dr A, and getting the reprieve, I happily put on my favourite baggy jeans, a cute pink shirt, and my fur-lined pink Crocs. This afternoon, we're heading to the shops for a coffee. And for just a moment or two, I imagine that this is what happiness feels like.

(Thanks to Tori for today's blog title, from Moment in Time)

in a bullet proof vest with the windows all closed

2009-08-30T09:16:00.004+08:00

In the last couple of weeks my grandmother (who regular readers will know lives with me and my parents) has suffered from deteriorating health. She's approaching 91, and has been lucky to not have any life-threatening or serious illness; because of that she almost seems to be oblivious to her (statistically speaking) approaching death! She had a minor stroke about five years ago, and came to live with us, and has been in good health since then. Last week she had a couple of dizzy spells, and possibly had one or more TIAs (like mini strokes), and consequently we've needed to keep a closer eye on her (and help her to shower, walk to the bathroom, etc).

The reason I mention this is that I decided I would offer to move out of my master bedroom with ensuite bathroom so my nanna can move in. Mr Ex and I had the master bedroom when we first moved in, and when he left I got to keep it. I am fairly obsessive about germs, particularly when it comes to bathrooms, and sharing a bathroom is very very low on my "to do" list. It seemed like it was important, though, and also I thought it might prepare me for next year when I plan to move out of here. Previously, my nanna has inhabited the two back bedrooms of the house and shared a bathroom with my parents. But there was a dining room, bathroom, laundry, and another bedroom between her room and my parents', so at night we were concerned she might call out and no-one would hear. The master bedroom is opposite the formal lounge room that my parents use as their bedroom, so nanna will be closer to them, and also having her own bathroom adjacent to her bed will be easier. Naturally, in the way of narcissists, she managed to be both ungrateful for my sacrifice and irritated that she got to sit in the family room relaxing while the rest of us schlepped her many china cabinets, chairs and occasional tables up to her new quarters.

In terms of square feet of space, I think the two smaller rooms are about equal to the master bedroom. All of my stuff has fitted in to them, and each has a built-in closet which combined are almost the same as the walk-in closet I had in my other room. I have one room set up for sleeping and one with a couch and desk and book shelves. The main drawback is sharing the bathroom...but I will adjust. I do think it will prepare me to live in shared accommodation, in case I can't afford my own place next year. I also think being "less comfortable" is a good thing, as it will encourage me to live outside these four walls.

I am in agony today, after shifting all the furniture. But it has been fun to put my things away in new places and to throw some old junk away. I've discovered a few hobbies and interests that I'd let drop, which I may take up again. And I know that health-wise it's better to have my PC in a room where I don't sleep. I miss my sparkling, scrubbed, fragrantly-deodorized, my-germs-only bathroom! In the way of things, I am trying to make the best of what I know is the "right" choice.

In other news, I'm thrilled to welcome Procrastination and Her One-Eyed Dog to my life. My virtual-world friend Kate has gifted her to me, and I'm happy to have such a quirky, beautiful, clever gift in my life (describes the girl AND the stitching lol).

(title of today's post comes from my favourite Coldplay song "See You Soon")

but I can see that star when she twinkles

2009-08-27T10:04:00.004+08:00

Firstly - thanks to everyone who responded to my last post. Your supportive comments really help, and it means a lot to know that other people know where I am coming from. Hugs to all!

I know it's been another long break between blog posts. This time it's due more to the business of life than the avoidance of such. Work has been hectic, and since I've tried to take things less personally I'm finding it easier to deal with. Basically, I don't have much in common with the folks who share my office, which is a good thing in many ways. I'm happy for them that they don't "get" me, it means they are well adjusted and easy going types who tend to talk things out rather than freak out and/or vent. Now I've realised that fact I try to limit my venting to Fee, my close friend at work, and just fake it out with the rest of them. It's working fairly well. I need to keep my job, for a number of reasons, and most of the time I enjoy being there.

Apart from being busy at work, and sometimes bringing work home with me to do in the evenings, I've been getting out and about. Somewhat! I haven't turned the corner, exactly, but I'm approaching the corner with less trepidation. I've caught up with friends on three occasions, including seeing my new niece S for the first time! I call her my niece, and her brothers my nephews, although we're not blood related. Their mother Samantha is my oldest friend, we met in high school and even when our lives took very different paths (she became a mother at 17), we've remained close. Her eldest son is now 21, and an amazing, well-adjusted, smart and hard-working man. The middle child is 12, and vastly different to his brother but equally awesome. Now my friend has a daughter, and the baby is truly gorgeous! I know I'm biased, but really, she's an angel. Spending time with the family last weekend was really nice, and I'm thrilled that I managed to get out and do it. Samantha is completely different to me in personality, and very strong, but she understands my mental struggles and is very forgiving when I can't manage to see them. For instance, I missed my nephew's 21st birthday party a few months ago because I just couldn't face such a large gathering. Having that kind of friend, who makes allowances and is happy to see me whenever I can manage it, is truly something to be grateful for.

I also had a great day with my friend Michelle, who I hadn't seen for a few weeks now we're not bowling together. I miss bowling, but I miss Michelle more! Was nice to catch up with her and feel like I was rejoining the world. I think breaking the avoidance habit will take time, the first instinct for me is always to think "now, just get through the day and then you can retreat to your bed". But I am making plans for the future, and trying every week to get out there more. One of my homework tasks from Dr A is to set some goals, which I will share with y'all once I get around to it! Something I am looking forward to is moving out on my own next year. I really need my independence back, and after four years of helping to care for my grandmother (the ungrateful narcissist lol) I think I need it to be my turn. My parents are all for it, very understanding actually, which helps me to look upon it positively. I'm scared, in so many ways, of being on my own and surviving. But it needs to be done.

It's a small life, but it's mine. It has flaws and challenges, but I am facing up to them and changing things. There are a lot of things that I'm too overwhelmed to deal with right now (driving, relationships, anger, health & fitness...) but I'm taking small steps in the right direction. When I saw Dr A this week I told him I thought a lot about the question he asked "Do you WANT to change?" I've decided that wanting to want to change is the same as wanting to change, it's simply less emphatic! A position that's perhaps not as wholeheartedly enthusiastic about the process, but still open to the possibility.

(Title of post is from Tori Amos' Twinkle - gorgeous song)

born to be alive

2009-08-15T15:23:00.002+08:00

The best thing that can be said about the last couple of weeks is that I am still fighting the good fight. Sometimes it's hard, but I know I don't need to tell y'all that!

Doc A gave me a major league hard time on Thursday about my avoidance of all things life-related. Apart from work, I don't leave the house. While at home, apart from eating dinner and showering, I spend my time in bed watching dvds and reading. He tells me I need to "re-engage with the world", and warned me I am displaying signs of Avoidant Personality Disorder. So that would make three "disorders" in my confused personality... Apparently there is a two-for-one combo deal known as "avoidant-borderline mixed personality" (AvPD/BPD). No wonder I have a permanent headache!

In the end, although I admit I am going through a resistant phase with my therapy, and throw up all manner of reasons and excuses to NOT follow Dr A's advice, I know he is right. I know that the less I participate in the world, the less likely I am to want to, or feel able to. I know that I am at a dangerous crossroads, where I'm fighting to hang onto enough sanity to maintain my job (which is a great, easily managed job). I tell Dr A that I am too tired, too lethargic, too depressed to go out and meet people, or do social things, or join a class. His argument is that I create or manifest or perhaps exacerbate these physical/mental conditions in order to avoid.

So I am trying to put myself out there more, and reach out to the "real world". Ten or twelve years ago I was active, motivated and sociable and I know I can get back there, or to somewhere close by. I have been thinking about studying a language or a craft, and perhaps doing a gym class once a week. I went to a public meditation last night, with my friend Fee from work. Dr a said to me a number of times during our session on Thursday - "Do you WANT to change?" I really had to think about it, and came up with the answer "No, but I want to WANT to change". And that has to be start, right?

I have been away from this blog-world for a couple of weeks, and have missed catching up with everyone's news. So I'll try and get around over the weekend and see what y'all have been up to while I've been bed-ridden and avoiding!

we are all made of stars

2009-07-27T09:51:00.004+08:00

A terribly sad few days here in the Lil household, as we said goodbye to Possum. My mom has had Possum and her brother Tigger for 10 years, half of that time they've lived with me, and as kittehs are part of the family, her death has hit us all hard. She had an embolism or heart attack (not sure which) and although she was clearly no longer "all there", she was not in pain, so we brought her home to spend her last hours in front of the log fire as we said mantras for her rebirth and laid her under a pillow case blessed by His Holiness the Dalai Lama. As Buddhists, it's really really really a difficult decision to euthanaise and we were thankful she wasn't suffering and could just pass peacefully. It happened early Saturday morning and we're adjusting to a house with just three kittehs. Her brother has been calling for her, and wandering around a bit lost. She was tiny, and quiet, and not the most robust of kittehs, but she had the sweetest personality. We will all miss her.

love cats

2009-07-23T22:00:00.003+08:00

www.icanhascheezburger.com never fails to make me smile!

not somebody who's seen the light

2009-07-23T16:59:00.003+08:00

Sometimes I like to do Sudoku puzzles. I always carefully write the answers in pencil, so I can rub them out and start over, but every now and again I just can't solve it and the puzzle ends up illegible - scratched and rubbed raw. No matter how many times I try to erase and rewrite the answers, there are the odd Sudoku puzzles I just have to accept as failures. Draw a line through. Either throw them away, or turn the page and start a new one.

What if a life is like that? Are there a finite number of ways in which I can try to make things work? What if next time I try to reimagine myself and start things over, it's just too late? Maybe the bare bones of my life are so fragile and patched up that I need to draw a line through it and start a new one?

These are the things I think about.

(title from Hallelujah, all versions I think, but my favourite is Leonard Cohen's original)

closer i am to fine

2009-07-21T19:09:00.002+08:00

10 reasons to be grateful:

My brother had minor surgery today, and came through with flying colours. A full recovery is expected
Finally finished my darn tax return and according to my estimates I should get a couple of grand refund. Enough to pay back my folks for the Great Child Support of 2009 and have some left over for my Christmas getaway-slash-runaway
I finally got around to replacing my first and most loved Indigo Girls cassette tape with a CD (hence the title of this post, celebrating one of their best tunes)
After finding out a few peeps at my new workplace consider me a) distant, b) bitchy and/or c) up myself, I resisted the temptation to get all BPD on their asses and start demonstrating Anger Mismanagement 101
Also resisted temptation to quit and run away
I think my hellish cold may be just that, and NOT (as I suspected) the slightly more malevolent cousin to swine flu. Can almost breathe without coughing now - hooray
I have some wonderful new readers, and therefore some new blogs to visit! Hi there!
Due to my dual citizenship with the UK I can almost get away with celebrating England's terrific win in the 2nd Ashes cricket test. Tho' I feel slightly guilty, their team is vastly more talented and considerably cuter than the Australian team.
Yesterday it hailed so much here that it looked like SNOW!!! We don't get snow. Or even hail, usually.
The new season of The Amazing Race starts the day after tomorrow (well, new to us anyway). My favourite thing is to groan over Phil's thrift store style outfits with my mom, and be thankful it's not me having to zoom through Pakistan/Russia/Laos in 24 hrs. Hooray for television in general, really. It's saved me more than once, especially this year.

this is the last day of our acquaintance

2009-07-16T20:59:00.002+08:00

Something that I didn't anticipate when I joined this cracked bunch of mental health bloggers is how darn FOND I would become of y'all. Consequently, I've been majorly bummed out lately to find a few of my blogging friends have either deleted their blogs or abandoned them. I also clicked some of the blogrolls of my regular visited sites and found a fair few of their links also led me to the ubiquitous "site not found" message. In my research, I've discovered there's an actual term for it - "blog abandonment".

I know it happens. People move on, get lives, get committed (ha!), find other outlets. I read somewhere that 60-80% of blogs are abandoned within the first month, and that the average lifespan of the 20-40% that survive is seven months. In my other blog-life, (2 years as part of the weight loss surgery community) people regularly come and go from my comments and followers pages. But somehow, it doesn't feel as sad. I think the way in which I connect to, and support, mental health bloggers is much more real to me. Which no doubt says more about ME than about anything else lol. Did I ever mention my pathological fear of abandonment??

I miss you, my lost bloggers - especially Belinda, Kate and John. If you're still lurking about and reading, you know who you are and know that I wish you well. I hope that the things that took you away from the blogs I loved are good, healthy, happy, positive things. I hope you are thriving, or at least surviving.

(*today's post title is from the awesome Sinead O'Connor song of the same name)

til you lost me there in the open road*

2009-07-13T09:51:00.004+08:00

Mr Ex came over yesterday, to have his weekly custody visit with The Dog. I'd planned to bring up the D.I.V.O.R.C.E. last week, but he played the Deadbeat Dad and didn't show for the visit. I knew Dr A would chew me out if I saw him this week having still not broached the D-subject with Mr Ex so I bit the bullet and said, ever-so-casually "So, I've been finding out about how to start divorce proceedings".

I swear, he was surprised.

We've lived apart for well over a year, and except for a handful of social gatherings the only time we've spent together is when he picks up or drops off The Dog. He's never mentioned reconciling, apart from immediately after I told him to move out, and has made no effort to win me back in any traditional (or, indeed, visible) ways. But he seemed shocked that I would actually download and print out paperwork to officially end this thing. Weird. Although, having said that, I became hollow and teary after he left. Even though I don't want to be in any kind of relationship with anyone, and certainly think it's best for me & Mr Ex to not be married, I was struck by the inevitable wave of sorrow that true endings bring. For a long, long time our marriage was good, and for almost all the eleven years we've been together our relationship/friendship has been rock solid. We just aren't meant to be married.

This has been a truly tough week. My friend Michelle, my only regular-contact friend, has decided she doesn't want to continue bowling in our team, and as bowling is my only social outlet/hobby, it's kind of devastating. I'm trying to decide whether to find another team, but given that I have only ever bowled with Michelle, I think most of my enjoyment in bowling has been in spending time with her. I understand her reasons, and most of the time I manage to not take it personally, but it's just one more hit in a week when the hits just keep coming. Dr A rang me just now to reschedule today's appointment to Wednesday, and had I told him even one of the things I've dealt with over the last 2 weeks he would not have rescheduled. I told him everything was fine, showed some High-Functionin' Flair, and now have to struggle along. I knew he would only ask me to reschedule if someone was in a major crisis, so how could I be petty? There are a great many folk worse off than me, even if I am having a tough week lol. I think I am going to have a bath, make a cup of tea and read my new book. It's not a permanent replacement for therapy, but it's okay by me.

(*today's post title is from Tori Amos' A Sorta Fairytale)

No More Guilty Left To Pardon

2009-07-11T17:05:00.009+08:00

I was browsing in a bookstore on Friday night, after a difficult and tiring week, when things became even more hideous. I saw my father. He was pretentious and fancy-suited in the literature section, looking at Joan London's "The Good Parents". Okay, I didn't really see the book he was holding, but afterwards (during the vomit/rant/vomit phase) I laughed to myself that it was probably some such thing. Thankfully, although he glanced my way (and I was only 20 feet from him), he didn't recognise or acknowledge me and I was able to slink away, shaking and feeling the Black Empty invading my insides once more. I haven't seen him, or contacted him, in eleven years yet I knew without a doubt who he was - a visceral reaching out that surpassed any negativity or memory. Part of me felt like the four year old he walked away from and didn't contact again (until forced to 14 years later). Part of me wished I resembled the semi-confident, only partly-mental 28 year old I was the last time he hurt me. But most of me just had to run away and throw up the lovely meal I'd had with work colleagues, and then sit shaking and enraged on the train home.

A few people looked at me as if I was on drugs, and catching a glimpse of myself in the window I could see why. It's weird how emotional and mental challenges reflect in the physical being. I was pale, shivering, fighting back tears, wanting to smash something, desperately desperately wanting to EAT (even though I'd been throwing up into a trash can just moments earlier). I managed to get home without incident, and was fairly composed by the time I got here - rather than ranting or screaming I just made a passing comment to Mom about this small-town-city, and how I'm lucky to have not run into him before now. She, in Queen of Denial mode, said something like "Oh, you shouldn't let people like that upset you". No kidding LOL.

Seeing him, and then in the hour or so coming home afterwards, I could feel the Great Unravelling start. I'd already been having a stressful week (divorce papers, tax returns, pain-in-the-ass work colleague, hormones, yadayada) and I clearly saw looming the coming apart of all my hard work, and my hard-won stability. And you know what, I thought

FUCK
THAT
SHIT.

Excuse the profanity all! But I truly thought to myself, Lil, this can go either way and you get to chose where you end up. So I practised some DBT (Self-Soothed, Distress Tolerated) and talked myself down from the anger. I simply REFUSE to let him hurt me any more. This episode showed me that techniques like Mindfulness and the Non-Judgemental Stance have become comfortable for me, as they came into my mind fairly quickly when the Emotion Mind started to create havoc. I know a lot of people question DBT, and consider it to be jargonistic and over-simplified. I've read some criticism of it, and a lot of praise, and the praise seems to come from people who have used it to become well. That's enough for me, I suppose, and I think it's the best recommendation - people who are managing their Borderline Personality Disorder are often doing so by using the skills of DBT. That's what I want more than anything, to be well and healing. It was a rough couple of days this week, but (as I've said before) those are the ones that really test us - right?

The photo at the start is one of only three or four photos I have of myself with my father. I think I could already tell he was an imposter. My expression certainly hints at it...

(*Post title is from Iron & Wine's song "A Book Unfinished")

It's The End Of The World As We Know It

2009-07-05T09:55:00.003+08:00

And I feel fine (as the song goes).

This week's session with Dr A focused mainly on the two tasks he's set for me as homework. A while back he mentioned that me getting my driver's licence would be a huge benefit, not only in practical terms but also because it would mean I had conquered a life-long fear. He's right, and it's not like I haven't already thought of that myself... but the actual physical task of going and getting my Learner's Permit (for the SIXTH time) is beyond me at the moment. However, I have promised to visit the licensing website and do the online Learner's test as practice, and also to find out the costs involved. I first got my Learner's Permit when I turned 17 (the legal driving age in Western Australia), and was also given a car by my beloved grandfather. The car, a 1972 Ford Cortina, had been his and when he died a few months later I wondered if the loss of freedom (he never got another car) had finished him off. I moved to the city a few months after my birthday, leaving the car with my parents until I eventually decided to sell it (having only had a few lessons and not really ever feeling comfortable with the idea of driving in our country town, let alone the Big City). I've had other goes at learning to drive, with varying success, but I've never booked a driving test - the idea of having to park on command, and to follow complicated instructions from the examiner, seems to negate the fact that I am actually a fairly competent driver (according to the various instructors I've had over the last 22 years).

My second piece of homework involves Mr Ex, and the fact that our 12 months' legal separation was completed this week. I downloaded the paperwork (don't you love the technological age) for the divorce but had yet to broach the subject with Mr Ex, especially as last weekend he came along to my Bowling Birthday Party and we had a great time. Not a "getting back together, happy every after" great time, but a great time nonetheless. Dr A had a bit of a go at me for the mixed messages I was sending out willy-nilly... especially to myself. I definitely DO NOT want to be married - to anyone. But that fact remains that I adore Mr Ex, for all his faithlessness and foibles (and by that I don't mean "infidelity". Blame Wandering Coyote's deep thoughts here for the use of the word "faithless" haha). Part of my worries about him, whether he thinks we'll get back together, whether he will do something self-harming. But, in the spirit of "Being In Therapy" I agreed with Dr A that the paperwork needs to be addressed. I printed it all out today and was planning to deal with it when Mr Ex came over to walk his dog. My best-laid plans were thwarted when Mr Ex texted me to say he can't come over today. At least the papers are printed and filled out, and in reality I don't need Mr Ex's permission or signature to file them. I do, however, need an amount of cash to go with said papers. Ouch.

Apart from these nagging administrative tasks, my life continues to sail along. I start my new hours tomorrow, which sees me working every second Monday along with Tues, Wed and Fri each week. On the opposing Monday I see Dr A. Which still gives me Thursdays to sleep in, vege out, blog and blog-visit and see friends. I think I will manage, it's a fine compromise, and having some extra money is always welcome. I can save up to get divorced - blah. I still haven't written to my friend H, who sent me the out-of-the-blue birthday presents. I've been thinking about it, and intend to do it, it's another one of those "when I have the energy" tasks. Being mental is exhausting lol.

One area I need to watch is the continuing urge I have to over-achieve at work. Given that work was my area of downfall prior to this most recent breakdown, I've really been keeping track of my thoughts and emotions at work - and during the week I had a weird "showing off" hypermanic episode. I still crave validation and approval constantly, and have to fight the urge to pursue it from my superiors at work. It's one thing to do my job well, but another thing to undermine other staff, over-achieve, big note myself and get breathless and giddy when I'm given praise. The best thing was, though, that I caught myself in Emotion Mind (as DBT would call it) and could step back and use Reasonable Mind to see the situation for what it was - thereby stopping the roundabout before it got going. Something that might have progressed and spun out of control, was dealt with fairly quickly. Being only low-dose medicated also helped, because I am not as numb/blunted these days I'm more aware of my changes in physiology (heightened colour/warmth, faster breathing, shaking hands, talking faster) which sometimes come along with my Emotion Disregulation episodes.

All The More A Pair Of Underwater Pearls

2009-06-25T11:01:00.003+08:00

I'm continuing my recent trend of using favourite song lyrics for my blog titles, so forgive any obscurity! This last week has been perplexing and a challenge (not the least because I'm now 39 and feeling I am approaching that gray area known as "middle age", but I digress...). I spent the weekend at a fantastic seminar by a man called Ian Gawler, who survived a terminal cancer diagnosis over 30 years ago and now teaches meditation, healing and general wellbeing. The two day workshop was one of my birthday presents, from my parents (who both attended as well), and although it was exhausting to be out of the house and listening/concentrating for two full days, it was definitely worth the effort. The Saturday was completely devoted to meditation techniques and sessions - generally I only get around to meditating once or twice a week, but I'm determined to make it a daily practice. That's the way to get the most benefit, especially for someone in therapy and managing a mental illness. One of the things that struck me the most about the weekend was Ian saying that the idea of meditation can become a source of stress and anxiety (ie: "I really have to meditate, why can't I meditate better, why can't I concentrate", etc, etc). He suggests to find a method that works and do it in a comfortable way for just a short period of time until it becomes second nature, then increasing time spent in meditation and the style of meditation. I've always been particularly successful at guided meditation, and I found out that is probably due to my learning style (Auditory). My mum, on the other hand, finds she needs a visual focus otherwise she is distracted from the guiding voice by pictures appearing in her mind. Interesting stuff. I can't deny that meditation and relaxation techniques have helped with my recovery.

One of the weird things about my birthday is that I received a text message, and presents, from someone I mentioned in an earlier post. I hadn't heard from this friend for about 8 months, since I spent thousands of dollars on visiting her for her 30th birthday, so I had kind of assumed we were no longer sympatico. Of course, I hadn't had the chance or opportunity or desire to share with her the details of my breakdown in Dec-Jan. In my cracked BPD way I had assumed she hated me, and didn't care that I was crumbling, when in fact it seems she was imagining I was just busy and having a great life (and was therefore out of touch with her). It did my head in somewhat...to have this person and these feelings pop back into my life when it sometimes seems like that was a totally different Lil. The presents, the contact...they struck me as slightly "off", like they belonged to someone I used to be. There's no question that I have changed mightily, and necessarily. I am probably less fun, less apt to smile and indulge in banter. But I think I am a more whole person now, if that makes sense. I finally feel like I am working towards "real", after a lifetime of experiencing that horrifying Borderline "who the fuck am I?" emptiness. I hope that writing to my friend H, and updating her on all the ways in which the last 8 months have in fact been the antithesis of happy and busy, will enable us to move our friendship to a new level. It's worth a try, because as strange as it was to have her contact me, it also feels like the right thing. Now I've got used to the idea!

At work, things are going well. My boss took me aside last week (on my birthday actually) and asked if I was interested in more hours. It happens to me every time. I intend to work part-time, and then get sucked into the love-to-show-off, flattery vortex of being needed and agree to more hours, get more money, and then get tired and depressed and strung out. Not this time. I told her I would consider working every second Monday, which is a compromise that suited us both. Also, she tells me I will be getting a payrise next month because they think I am far-exceeding their expectations and in general doing a kick-ass job. Yay for me! I was relieved, because you just never know what people are thinking. I felt good about my standard of work, but it's nice that the boss confirmed it. I still love going there, and am gradually getting to be friends with one of the girls and am opening up a little to the other staff. It's an effort sometimes to be New Lil, though, because the quasi-comfortable craziness of Borderline Lil is still close to the surface.

This is a long and winding post. I have been tired and overwhelmed by life and learning and have been too long away from my dearheart bloggers. My apologies! I am slowly catching up on all the goings-on in blogworld over the last week.

They Say It's Your Birthday

2009-06-19T17:53:00.001+08:00

"Kathy, I'm lost" I said, though I knew she was sleeping

2009-06-18T13:20:00.006+08:00

It's strange the things that can bring on the melancholy. My stepdad bought a dvd today, of Simon & Garfunkel's Concert in Central Park (1981 I think) and has been playing it while I was in the kitchen cooking. For a lot of different reasons, the songs brought up memories, mostly sad. When I was about 10 years old I found an LP record in my parents' collection that had a handwritten name on it I recognised. It turned out to be (as I suspected at the time), one of the few things my mother kept that had belonged to my father - a Simon & Garfunkel record that I would secretly play when my mother and stepdad weren't around. Over the years I became more and more enamoured of them, and folk music in general, and I ended up buying the Concert in Central Park album in about 1987. Hearing the songs again reminded me of how in those days, at 17, I was still under the misapprehension that being depressed was something I would "grow out of". I believed that all the low moods and suicidal thoughts were part of my groovy & creative personality and I channelled them as much as I could into writing songs, stories, poetry.

What struck me the most today was that I could recognise melancholy approaching, and rather than eagerly laying down and becoming its mistress, I fought it and won. I used Mindfulness to view the feelings objectively, and could see clearly (maybe for the first time) the two paths on offer. I could either go with the sad memories, and add to them in the same way I was adding ingredients to my vegie soup, ending up with a confusing mess of mixed emotions and general blah. Or, I could feel and acknowledge the sadness/loss, briefly revisiting the memory of the past before letting it go.

Half an hour later, instead of being bedridden, binge eating, self-harming or bawling, I was finishing off making my soup and starting on brownie cheesecake (as my birthday treat for tomorrow). All the while still singing along with Simon & Garfunkel (that's one long concert lol).

I used to think that my over-emotional or extreme reactions to songs, films, books, etc were part of my personality. With DBT, I view it differently -- the reaction is the first, "normal" part of the equation, and the BPD encouraged me to take the reaction to the extreme and let it overwhelm my thoughts and (therefore) my emotions. With the new filter of my Wise Mind I'm learning/trying to enjoy the reaction to the song (for instance), but keep it in context and balance. It's still not second nature to me, but I know it gets easier to practice DBT/CBT skills.

One of my all-time favourite songs, and my favourite S&G tune, is "Kathy's Song". I used to cry when I heard it, especially the lines:
"I sit and watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you, go I"
Forgive me if I've misquoted, I'm writing them from memory! Anyway, today I heard those words in a completely different context and they didn't make me sad. I even half-jokingly substituted "DBT" for "you" in the final line. This morning could have ended up very differently, much bleaker, without my new therapy. A few people I know who have done DBT call themselves "DBT Geeks", or DBT Obsessives - experiencing it work really does make you a convert/true believer! I hope I don't come across as simplifying Borderline, or other mental illness, and I am definitely not saying Dialectical or Cognitive Behaviour Therapy is the only way to treat these things. They have just worked for me, after many years of NOTHING working. And I wanted to share it.

The Trouble With Love

2009-06-17T18:22:00.004+08:00

I've decided the trouble with love is that its a finite resource. Much like gold or copper, once its gone, all that's left behind is a dry and barren landscape which is good for nothing. Today I was thinking about all the great passion in my life, for boys mostly but also for "obsessions" (some ppl call them hobbies lol), and how that passion is so closely linked to my illness that I doubt I will ever "go there" again. I just couldn't trust myself to feel that extreme and still remain emotionally in control...yet I don't know how else to be when I am involved with someone or something new.

So I'm left with the feeling that while I may have a productive and sane life for the next 40 years, I doubt whether I will ever feel that grand love. I've spent the first half of my life being crazy for things...crazy for boy X,Y or Z, for girl A, or for Dawson's Creek/Barbies/Scrapbooking. Then I was just plan ole crazy. And now, I'm not crazy, I'm mostly stable and sane, but that seems to come at the price of losing the passion. Or at the very least curbing it.

I do think it's a step forward, to grow up and away from all-consuming hyperattachments, crushes and obsessions. But I think I will always miss that mania. This time last year, every breath was pure adrenalin and excitement. I longed to go to work to interact with Lewis, and to feel hilarious and gorgeous and fabulous. There was always that emptiness underneath, though, which is the nasty worm in the Borderline apple. While I may not scale the dizzying heights of lust and passion, these days I can sit safely in my own skin for long moments at a time without wanting to rip myself apart. It has to be a good thing.

SNAFU

2009-06-16T18:42:00.005+08:00

After five weeks of solid performance at my new job, I had a truly crappy day. In the scheme of things, it's not that bad. No-one got fired. No-one got shouted at. No-one cried (though I felt like it). I've been working on a couple of graphic design jobs, which is not what I was hired to do and something I at which I am only self-taught, and I think I took on more than I should have. After printing 500 full-colour copies of one of the forms, a major error was noticed (too few boxes in the credit card payment section) and we had to reprint them. I remind you, the place I work is a CHARITY and can barely afford to print the darn things once, let alone TWICE. It was a stupid mistake, and the two bosses had signed off on the form without noticing, so maybe I shouldn't be beating myself up quite as badly as I am...

But there you have it, the self-loathing swings into action to replace the self-aggrandisement. Even though I have resisted my usual urge to show off and big note myself around the office, secretly I was feeling quite superior and patting myself on the back for my amazing coping skills. Ha! Life always knows how to level me out... Afterwards, all I wanted to do was eat. I needed junk food, stat, to block out the surprise/shock of my fellow workers that I, Ms Perfect Superwoman, had made a mistake. To medicate the intense embarrassment and shame that reminded me I was just the same fuckup I have been in every other job/relationship/situation/etc. With concentration, and some Distress Tolerance skills, I managed to chill out and not run to the chicken and fries emporium across the street. I also managed to realise I was over-reacting (dare I say it...BPD-style catastrophising?), and reminded myself I was human, not a piece of useless crap. It was a big lesson, and let's face it, that's where the true learning and recovery starts. But man, it sucked. I offered to pay for the extra printing (which was appreciated but not accepted) and made a vow to check and re-check all the other graphic design work I'm doing.

A couple of people said to me afterwards that they were relieved that I showed I wasn't superwoman. The newest employee (apart from me) said she'd felt intimidated because I was picking everything up so quickly! Sometimes I am stunned that the world sees the Happy & Capable Lil facade and believes it... 'cause it feels like the Big Crazy is so close to the surface that everyone on earth can see it.

PS: If you're that way inclined, please send prayers and/or love to Coyote & Juno. Poor kitteh is not well - feel better soon Juno xxx

Xenophobe

2009-06-14T17:24:00.003+08:00

I really don't play well with others.

I love y'all here in the virtual world, you don't require anything from me apart from occasional touching base and a modicum of honesty when I do so. As part of the online mental health community, I know that my friends understand how hard it is to form sentences and make sensible comments when in the grip of madness. In the real world, it's SO damn hard to fit in and feel comfortable. The way I have coped with this past year, with psychosis and diagnosis, is to stop being part of the "real world" in anything but a token way. Leading up to my breakdown I was permanently "on"- hyperattaching, falling in love, falling out, imagining enemies, experiencing vendettas. It exhausts me to even think about it now. No wonder I am spent... strung out and tired of the nuances and negotiations. These days, I prefer my own company and can barely make the effort to hang on to the couple of friendships that have survived the post-BPD-mania fallout.

At work, everyone gathers at noon to have lunch together. I can't tell you how irritating this is. I'm using all my coping skills to just stay focused and be productive, and then I have to sit and make chitchat with the nice ladies? Oy. They are the friendliest group of people I've ever worked with, and I know that compassion is something they have in spades, but for obvious reasons I don't feel inclined to share the whole "crying/slashing/screaming/blackness" that was the first half of 2009. I've been really strong, and followed Dr A's advice in not over-sharing or being trusting with people until I make real connections with them. In the past, my MO has been to throw myself headfirst into social situations, showing off and sharing all my gory details in an attempt to impress people and "make friends". I'm not interested in being that person any more, truthfully, I cringe at the memory of it.

I'm embarrassed at the so-called bonds I imagined I had with people.

I'm hopeful I'll never leave myself open to manipulation and ridicule like that ever again.

Even if it means living a solitary life, I need to stay away from that kind of behaviour and its consequences. Since I've retreated into my own world, things have been undeniably smoother and calmer. Away from the drama and potential fuck-over that is "Other People", I'm making some headway and feeling like I may actually live to see 40. It's not reality, and some day Dr A is probably gonna expect more from me than "getting to know myself". I really think, though, that I might be someone who needs to live a life somewhat removed from others. The big areas of catastrophe in my life have been those involving connections to other people (both men and women, platonic as well as sexual).

Meanwhile, I am finding myself "finishing up" at my desk for ten or fifteen mins after lunch has started. Then, I take a while to make my lunch. So that hopefully I only have to face the conversational firing squad for twenty minutes maximum. I try not to, but I feel guilty for being so "antisocial". These are kind, sweet ladies, who just want to get to know me. How can I start to explain the grocery list of reasons why they really DON'T want to know me??

Lost & Found

2009-06-09T20:56:00.003+08:00

It's my birthday soon. In ten days, in fact, and it will be my last "30 something" birthday, as next year I face up to the big 40. This time of year always makes me contemplative...what have I done with the last 12 months, what do I want from the future, yada yada. It makes me realise what I have lost, all those dreams that I've shelved (perhaps permanently), but more importantly I've started to focus on all that I've gained. So here's a list of some Lost & Founds I've been thinking about lately.

Lost

50kg (over 100 pounds)
an unhappy marriage
mental stability (which was only achieved through over-medicating and denial anyway)
ability to hold down a full-time job
potential of, or desire for, future relationship with man or woman

Found

some kick-ass online friends (and a real-life one - you rock Michelle!)
a whole grocery list of adjectives to describe my life...like peaceful, independent, brave
CBT and DBT, and generally awesome other types of T from my shrink Dr A
a life with minimum medication and (fairly! mostly!) stable moods
a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder, which helps me make sense of my mixed-up life and wacky behaviour
what I like to call "the best job in the world", which is badly paid and a long way from home but makes me happy to be there
the ability to tie my shoelaces, sit comfortably in a chair, walk a few miles without fainting and the joy of buying clothes "off the rack"
new passions like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, tenpin bowling and Taylor Swift

There is a lot to be thankful for this year, and even though I have lost contact with three of my four former "best friends", and sometimes I miss Mr Ex like crazy, overall I think I am doing okay. Some days I feel like the madness is nipping at my heels again, but I try and kick its nasty little rat-face and tell it to get away. Therapy is hard, even when it's working, maybe more so when it's working. There is a lot to be done, and I know that I've only scratched the surface of the angry Lil.

I think that the picture at the top of this post, which is entitled "Optimism" (by meppol from www.deviantart.com) captures my state of mind. Trying, always, to think of the glass as half full.

This One's For Coyote and Juno

2009-05-31T14:21:00.003+08:00

I made the top LOLCAT from a photo of my cat Sami - I heard Wandering Coyote might be in need of a new therapist and most of us agree cats make the best doctors. Then the second LOLCAT is one I saw today at www.icanhascheezburger.com and I instantly thought of the beautiful and voluptuous Juno and her BLFD.

Wandering Coyote's blog was the first one I found, back in Jan/Feb when I was struggling with my psychotic breakdown and eventual diagnosis with Borderline Personality Disorder. I googled "California Rocket Fuel", the medication combo I was on (Effexor and Mirtazapine), and lo and behold I found a kindred spirit. Coyote found herself a stalker hahahahaha. Jokes. No, really! Through Coyote I found my other blogging friends, all of whom have helped me navigate my way to semi-sanity. I just wanted to say thanks, and to reassure her that even on days when she feels like shit she means the world to me (to us, yeah?).