Friday, January 26, 2007

Day 159.1

(Going to Mum's...) On the train, with my hamster in my pocket. I'm not kidding (about the hamster).

Day 159

Going to Mum's.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Day 156

Silence is golden? Well, at the moment I’m not sure…

Today is day two of only speaking to my mum once a day. I usually speak to her several times a day, and on bad days, it feels like cables and wires connect us, all day long.

My counselling appointment on Friday morning brought about this happy little sojourn down independence alley.

Last week was hermit like. Sleeping all day long, my days punctuated with phone calls. The shrieking phones (that seemed to be) constantly ringing, were driving me insane so, I buried my head further under the duvet and several pillows for a few days.

Alarms were/are another annoyance. Every part of me screams when they go off. I have two, set 15-30mins apart because I switch them off and go back to sleep - the trick of having two is supposed to make me wake up when the second one goes off, but I just end up burying them under the pillows together, in my half awake, stressed out and irritated state. I was interested by my recent practice of: “I’ll just close my eyes for five more minutes…” knowing full well I could have overslept for several of my appointments last week. I didn’t care. I didn’t care if I slept through everything last week.

It is a strange position to be in when people calling to check you are OK irritates you. You feel guilty and responsible. I feel responsible for making people worry about me in this state, but also feel guilty that they worry; that their days are punctuated with time consuming checks on me. Mum is the main caller but also the only one of a few, that I would speak to, we had a call code so I would know it was her and I would pick up. However, I had begun to feel as though her calls were “checking up calls” [She isn’t checking up on me though is she? She’s just making sure I’m not dead.] where I felt obliged to report back on my achievements of the day (usually none) and then we would get into the “you need something in your day” conversations. Afterwards I’d slope back off to bed and bury myself all over again. And so it went on…

After having the weirdest appointment with my counsellor to date, we decided (she suggested I agreed) that it might be an idea to limit calls to once a day. Ironically these were the days that my phone provider cut my phone off. I felt like calling them to tell them that they’d just cut off a suicidal person’s one mode of contact, but no, don’t be silly, of course I didn’t.

My counsellor often attributes this ‘sudden death’ when questions on productivity arise to “gifted child syndrome” (or words to that effect). It makes me want to giggle when she says “gifted child.” “Me, gifted? a) Hilarious, b) not so and c) even if it was true, isn’t that too easy – the theory that someone who is gifted shuts down when external expectations come with their ‘gift’? I recognise the fact that when I am good at something, and am asked (what seems like constantly) why I don’t use my gifts, I shut down. But “gifted child syndrome” or whatever she called it, she’s talking about kids that can tell you the square route of 976558.01 at aged four. Or can spell and know the meaning of “hypotenuse” at two. Surely?

We also talked about stress. I hate the word stress, but alarm bells began to ring for my Friday counsellor when I visibly recoiled and said ‘no’ to any form of relaxation therapy. Stress; adj – middle management buzzword.

Everyone I know says “I’m soooooo stressed out”, it is akin to “I’m soooooo depressed.” In my newly refurbished head this translates as: “Fuck off, you have no idea,” (apparently I am now the only one who is allowed to have these “conditions”). Well, I actually only think I have depression, and only because I am told that a lot, and because I tell it to myself, a lot, hoping I begin to believe it and don’t stab myself in the brain because my head won’t shut up instead. I digress. And so it appears that I am now, apparently, “middle management”.

Crap, I just want to call my mum.

Friday, January 19, 2007

Day 152

Yesterday's most poetic morning:

My sister came to stay the day before yesterday, before flying off to the land of milk and honey to visit her beau. She had an early flight, so at 5.30am I was helping her down the staircase with her cumbersome suitcase, wishing her a safe journey.

This early hour has been (of late) the time that I usually go to sleep and here I was getting up and starting a new day. It was so, so, utterly peaceful. Then it started to snow.

I stood silently, with a small smile to myself, watching the cold snow fall; it was so beautiful. I can never remember thinking that snow falling was beautiful, especially in a built-up city. But there I was in the dark, holding aside my net curtains, nose almost touching the glass, maybe trying to smell it? White flakes falling noiselessly from the sky, almost as if they were respectfully doing so, so as not to wake anyone else. It was a private dance, just for me. Just me and the snow.

Our family started to say goodbye to someone today. At 2pm a part of our family, silently and in mourning, began the final stages of tying up a life. The beautiful day when miracles happened and my sister flew somewhere to make herself happy and the snow fell. The day when I was on the right side of awake to see the dawn. It somehow all seemed so appropriate, and so peaceful.

May you rest in peace. I hope you can hear me.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Day 151

"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered here,
While these visions did appear;
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend..."

A Midsummer Night's Dream
William Shakespeare

Monday, January 15, 2007

Day 148

It is amazing, I think, how quickly one can become indifferent and estranged from the (cold hard) reality of life. I live within four walls and I am safe here. I rarely go outside, I blank calls, I don't watch the news. You can actually and simply let go and vanish - if you so desire.

The problem with disappearing is that people will let you. It is not up to those around you to sustain your life because that, my friend, is entirely and solely dependant on you. When you decide that you don't have the energy to carry on, there is no-one there to work your life for you. There is no one there to keep everything together. Sure, you have your supporters, but actually if you choose not to play the obligatory game, and not to roll that dice - you just start to fade and nobody notices.

Some people think that life is just something that happens to them. That they are without control. Some people believe life is about fate: that there is some pre-determined destiny awaiting us all. Others rely on their chosen God, their bible and prayers to keep them walking along.

What do I believe?

Once, maybe momentarily, I believed in fate. I believed I wasn't in the right life and after ignoring all the warnings that my own body gave me, the universe decided to kick me out on my sorry ass for not paying attention. I believed that it did that so I could find a new way to be. A true and honest way to live. How poetic (pathetic) - right? If the latter is so, then no wonder I am having readjustment problems. Unlike the ones my shrink diagnosed, these demons are fighting the move into the right lane.

How do you know what lane to go in - do you opt for the inside lane and go so slowly you piss everyone off enough to be constantly overtaken and passed by? Do you stay in the middle lane , committing to neither one nor the other; sitting on that freshly painted, white, picket fence with a "don't rock the boat" mentality shoved right up your arse? Maybe you speed along in the fast lane and fly through life so tightly that everything whizzes by in a crazy blur of adrenalin? Maybe, just maybe, this world of mine has been made up of too many absolutes in the past, maybe the trick is to learn how to lane-hop as any sane driver would during a long journey?

It's a shame really, that I'm running on empty. There was once so much potential - or was there?

Friday, January 12, 2007

Day 145

"I like big butts and I can not lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face..."

Sir Mix-A-Lot you have a lot to answer to. That is stuck in my head.

Yesterday I spent most of the day in bed - I was beyond tired and avoiding things: paying bills, calling the I slept the day away. And then I killed my mobile phone by dropping it in the bath. I killed it in hot, pink, fluffy, candy smelling, bath water. Imagine the joy of telling that to Mr Orange Mobile, Insurance Claim Man.

It has been quite a liberating experience being without mobile for 24 hours; although people did start to panic when they couldn't find me. I guess a self distructive person, being incommunicado is not a good idea (I should have told Orange that when they told me I couldn't have a new mobile from the shop). I met up with my best friend this afternoon and we actually had to make a concrete arrangement to meet at a certain time and place because I was without mobile. It all felt rather Victorian.

Apart from my very quiet, mobile interruption free day - counselling today was hard work, but good. There was a certain friction in the air that was quite interesting and duly noted. Every time my counsellor tried to say something positive or encouraging I gave her twenty reasons why it wasn't so. And apparently I did a lot of glaring.

We talked a lot about my relationship with my family and how different I feel to them at times. I mentioned that I thought they would die if I didn't speak to them every minute of every day. My counsellor suggested that this might have something to do with the "people leave because of me" theme, that I have going on. We also talked about my (in her opinion) lack of laziness. I found that quite interesting. She doesn't see me as a lazy person at all. I also talked about my wish to erase the past. I asked if we could talk about the weird 'food thing' next week.

Other things I did today were:
Stood outside a flat I want to live in and gazed at it in a slightly terrified manner.
Went to the house of a friend I've never been too before - it was amazing - it was like stepping into a Sylvia Plath poem/film.
Talked to two old men outside a boozer in the East End and got called "Beauty Queen", my friend got called "Mia Farrow"- I think she won.
I washed the dishes, painted my nails a healthy shade of black and I avoided answering the telephone.
Got told three very funny jokes by a cabbie, one of which I have now forgotten (the one I laughed at the most).
I decided I want a whippet.
I watched Eastenders which was VERY dull. There is only so much of Martin and Sonia that I can bear. And that bloody Tracy (or whatever her name is) and her not very secret affair.
I got a new diary. My year can now begin and I shall be organised. And elasticated.

Dismaying news of the day: My love affair with "Gilmore Girls" has ended. Plus I now have an almighty, unweildy and deeply unecessary crush on Spike from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" - so I've cut myself off from watching both. As you can imagine, my life is now very empty.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Day 144.1

Oh, and Monday was spent in bed. Because it was "all too unbearable".

Then I had to get up to go to "the friend who came back"s house for tea Monday evening. I shook for about two hours. Her daughter can now sit up on her own - because she is very clever.

Day 144

Last post was about Wednesday and Tuesday before that, because today is of course Thursday. Look at the time.

Day 143

Look out...

Today: Cancelled my NHS counselling appointment to accompany my best friend to a scary hospital appointment she had. And then we ate cake (twice) because she got the "all clear".

Yesterday, was shite. Well, I had a nice luncheon with the afore mentioned best friend, then...I got an eviction notice from my landlord. She is selling the flat. I have to move. That'll teach me to "hate the flat".

Then I went to Slimming World. Yes, I did. And then I went to Asda and bought food I will never eat; including 5 Banana and Custard flavoured Muller lite yoghurts, (for the love of God) and 3 packets of dehydrated pasta, mixed with E numbers.

I got home late, and felt as sick as a dog, couldn't eat anything because it was all vile and had panic attacks all evening.

Then I got all stupid and maudlin and dug out old photos. Fool that I am.

Then I decided to text the "Ex, Ex", who told me that he has a new girlfriend and told me to piss off. I thought better than to remind him that it was he who opened the can of worms that is now riggling about widly. Knife-in-heart-ouch. Big, fat, stupid, asking-for-it, fool (me, again). I have now deleted his number from my phone and I can't remember it from memory - so that's good, right? I think I have it written down somewhere, but I can't remember where that is either. I still haven't stopped cringeing. I am obviously 12 years old and have just been dumped and am behaving so.

Then I started scratching my face. So took Diazepam at 3am and tried to get to sleep. (Apparently self-harming is an addiction - so says a new book that I am reading)

So today I wasn't on great form - I felt like I had a hangover all day and fely really, really, really stupid for last night's behaviour. "Stupid, stupid girl"

To top it all off - I have been sat here for the last hour looking up mystic, cross-my-palm-with-silver, tarot readers in my area. Hilarious. I have officially become the most stupid and pathetic person I know and it's only 10 days into the New Year.

Well done.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Day 140

Fell asleep on the couch last night after taking a sleeping tablet and staying up until it kicked in. I woke up at 7am having dropped my laptop - which was last seen, perched precariously on my lap before my eyes slammed shut about 4 hours previously - on the floor.

This is my new angle: instead on lying in bed for hours waiting for sleep to come, staring at my cobwebby and cracked ceiling, I sit up and watch snippets of DVD's until I get the chemical kick in the back of my throat - then I wobble through to my bedroom. Which can be amusing at times, especially when you try to stand up and find you have no legs.

But last night, as happened the other night, I just couldn't find the willpower to move off the couch and go to bed. I also didn't want to go to bed. I didn't want to go to bed because I didn't want to wake up and for it to be another day. But, damn that happened, as it eerily seems to do every day...I did go to bed with my clothes on however, which seemed to soften the blow somewhat (?)

All week I have been forcing myself to go out of the house. Mainly because I am hating the house again. Well, not the house per se, just all the things in it. I'm having the "I don't deserve nice things" thing again. So have been sabotaging/avoiding the house all week. Now, on this bleak, drizzly Sunday, when everyone else is doing his or her own thing. I am forcing, and I do literally mean forcing, myself to stay in here and clean and tidy. It hasn't been so pleasant so far as I am in panic attack mode. But then again, I've been in panic attack mode all week and I'm still going - so...

So far I have washed two bowls of dishes (doing so caused the scabs on my hands to stick to the inside of my rubber gloves and pulled them off and made them sticky, which was gross) and I am on my second round of laundry. I have also stripped the bed sheets and taken out the recycling/rubbish. Oh, and said "Happy New Year" to my strange neighbour who was busily setting off his own house alarm.

My, my, it's all fun and games round here today. I am anticipating the highlight of the day to be a dinner of fine dining on a small tub of M&S potato salad, as that is all I have in the fridge to eat. Unless of course you count the bottle of maple syrup or squished (and probably out of date) tube of tomato puree.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

Day 139

I am...nothing. Not that I am a 'nobody' - just that I can't feel anything, and even if I could, I wouldn't be able to find the words to express it.

I can't think straight at the moment. Before Christmas - posting every day, literally kept me going and that is why I am writing right now. For no other reason.

I can't think of anything interesting, or funny, or clever for that matter, to say. Just tippety-tapping away on my keyboard. I've been here before. The road more frequently travelled.

I was trying to explain to someone tonight why I couldn't "just change my situation" as he helpfully recommended I do. Where does one even start with a question like that?

I am feeling extremely lonely and isolated. I am amongst friends, but I am so freakin' lonely it's not even funny anymore. I just want someone to...well, see me. Someone to hold my hand and say "I'm here for you. I don't care that you're messed up and broken - I'll take you any way I can." I am tired of doing this on my own. I want someone else - not family or friends - just someone else to take up the slack and hold tightly for me. To me.

My arms and hands are still recovering from Christmases smackdown and yesterday morning, before meeting with friends from London - I scratched again, both hands. Funny really as I was just pondering the concept of writing a contract with myself, not to self-harm in 2007 and publish that right here on my bloggy-blog for all to see. Something notarised simply by publication. Something for me to be responsible to.

Goddamit. Somebody find a flipping white horse and come and get me out of here. Now please? I don't want to be big and brave anymore. I just want to be rescued.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Day 136

(Without sound) Mutter, mutter, twitter, grumble. Ponder, panic. Fuck.