I played poker tonight for the first time EVER. Yes, I realise I'm a little late catching on.
Also went to Chapters bookstore earlier in the evening and picked up a couple of books which I am now too lazy to go into the bedroom to pick up so I can write what they are. I will let Mr. Blog know later. I feel tired but I can't sleep. Turn off the light but I start crying. I miss Craig. Sent his sister a 4 message long text message, telling her:
a) That I've started playing poker.
b) That I'd bought books
c) About the dream I had.
Cigarettes taste bad with Baileys. It does something weird to the Baileys. I guess it's the Baileys that tastes bad with the cigarettes.
By the way, I don't smoke.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Hell YEAH I'm angry!!
I woke up feeling very positive today and had good vibes all morning - then went out for lunch and started feeling nervous and uncomfortable. Felt like everybody was being really loud and I wanted them to shut up. I knew there was something underlying all this....then I realised it is Ethan night and I had to phone and find out what was happening with him. I seem to get down just because I know it's always going to be so difficult. It ended up with Pat (Craig's mom) calling me as she is going away for a few days and needs me to feed the cat. She told me that she had had Ethan on the weekend but couldn't deal with him so he had gone to Becky's. Again...NOONE called me. I'm so DAMN angry that they don't bother to let me know that he's there and I could have seen him, and I know of course, that Karin would have been over and so I get neglected once again. I'm sick of it. I sent Becky a text message saying that I had found out he'd been over and I would have appreciated a call as I shouldn't have to BEG to see him, and that if I'm NOT going to be able to see him I would like to be told as costing me an arm and a leg staying here. This whole situation is screwed up. It happens all the time and I really feel that I would be better off running away back to Australia. It's like a cloud over my head all the time, worrying about what is going to happen.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Baby did a bad, bad thang
I've been doing a lot of really stupid shit recently. My friends say I'm becoming increasingly self-destructive. I guess it kinda happens when you're not watching.
I've managed to push Justin away completely. I think I managed it quite well by basically telling him to f**k off. He's gone through a hell of a lot recently and didn't deserve it at all, and he still remains not talking to me. I think he's taking it a 'little' far now, but maybe it's a good thing we've found out how extreme we can be. I don't know...I really don't know.
And so the other night I end up taking a drug I thought I would never take with a bunch of guys who will probably spend the majority of their lives in jail or won't be alive at all to tell the tale. They kept a gun underneath the couch 'just in case'. I can't survive like this.
Had a letter from my Aunt who thinks I should go back to Australia. It wouldn't be a bad idea. I have constant dreams about the horses and my little life there, and I'm NOWHERE near a pub. I might not have a social life but at least I'm alive.
But my JOB is changing and that looks like it's going in a good direction. I wish this job was boring, or I worked with fuckwits....it would make this so much easier.
I've managed to push Justin away completely. I think I managed it quite well by basically telling him to f**k off. He's gone through a hell of a lot recently and didn't deserve it at all, and he still remains not talking to me. I think he's taking it a 'little' far now, but maybe it's a good thing we've found out how extreme we can be. I don't know...I really don't know.
And so the other night I end up taking a drug I thought I would never take with a bunch of guys who will probably spend the majority of their lives in jail or won't be alive at all to tell the tale. They kept a gun underneath the couch 'just in case'. I can't survive like this.
Had a letter from my Aunt who thinks I should go back to Australia. It wouldn't be a bad idea. I have constant dreams about the horses and my little life there, and I'm NOWHERE near a pub. I might not have a social life but at least I'm alive.
But my JOB is changing and that looks like it's going in a good direction. I wish this job was boring, or I worked with fuckwits....it would make this so much easier.
Yes, it's the morning. GOOD morning.
Does it really bother you so much if I don't acknowledge you immediately on seeing you, even when I see you every damn day? Do I really have to jump straight in with a "Good Morning!" as soon I get within 20 metres of you? Does it hurt your ego that much?
What IS it with people?
What IS it with people?
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Dreaming of you
Yesterday was 'Canada Day'. Last year Craig, Ethan and I spent the day down at a park in the city where they have an annual festival. It was such a beautiful day, Ethan had a lot of fun and we had one of those moments when it was "Yeah! This is what it's all about!!" It felt good. We could do it.
I was driven past the park on my way to my friend's and it brought back all those good memories. Man, do I miss him. I think seeing the festivities triggered something in me, because last night I had a beautiful dream of Craig.
It was weird (as all dreams are)...I was walking in a crowd with Ethan and suddenly Craig is in front of us. I watch as Craig and Ethan ecstatically are reunited and Craig performs aerobatics with the little guy. Craig comes over and puts his arm around me tightly and we walk, he tells me that he's been given a second chance. He's been allowed to come back to try again. I can feel his arms around me, I can remember his touch. It feels SO real.
I miss Daddy too.
I was driven past the park on my way to my friend's and it brought back all those good memories. Man, do I miss him. I think seeing the festivities triggered something in me, because last night I had a beautiful dream of Craig.
It was weird (as all dreams are)...I was walking in a crowd with Ethan and suddenly Craig is in front of us. I watch as Craig and Ethan ecstatically are reunited and Craig performs aerobatics with the little guy. Craig comes over and puts his arm around me tightly and we walk, he tells me that he's been given a second chance. He's been allowed to come back to try again. I can feel his arms around me, I can remember his touch. It feels SO real.
I miss Daddy too.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Borderline Personality Disorder
It has been suggested that Craig suffered from what is known as a 'borderline' personality. Becky gave me a copy of "I hate you -- don't leave me' - Understanding the borderline personality by Jerold J. Kreisman, to read a while ago now, and I've just picked it up. I'm sitting here AGAIN at work with nothing to do....I still don't understand how I can get on to this site, but hey....I'm not complaining.
So...the borderline personality suffer from eight common criteria:
1) Unstable and intense interpersonal relationships.
I can vouch for that! INTENSE....oh boy, yes...we were intense in every way. We CLUNG to each other, our love making was intense, our fights were intense, our passion for each other was intense, our need was intense, our fears were intense. There was no doubting that we loved each other.
2) Impulsiveness in potentially self-damaging behaviours, such as substance abuse, sex, shoplifting, reckless driving, binge eating.
Craig could be impulsive but I'd say it was mostly substance abuse and sex. Something I really didn't approve of was his using G....a drug unknown to me and frankly, when he was on it he was a monster. He became extremely sexual -- apparently it alters your perception so that even people who are ugly look good and you would just about do anyone! I know he was faithful to me at the end of our relationship, but that had always been a concern for me...even he had said that if he was going to cheat, that would be the only thing that could fuck him up and cause him to. Again, it was escapism for him. He also smoked pot, which is nothing big and only at his friend's house. But I failed to see why you had to get high with someone all the time....can't you just have a beer and laugh???! They'd light up, smoke....and then his friend would be asleep in half an hour -- where's the fun in that??
He also took comfort in food when he was down, his weight fluctuated greatly. After he died and I was cleaning out the locker downstairs I found laundry baskets full of dirty clothes that he had no doubt just dumped down there when I was coming for a visit! He had countless pairs of beige pants, shirts and t-shirts. I always wondered where his clothes disappeared to and there they all were!
3) Severe mood shifts.
This was certainly true of Craig. I think it was more a case of the severity of his moods than sudden mood shifts. He would cry desperately and feel very blue. We'd get out of the apartment and walk, that seemed to help. I always found his apartment to be oppressive.
4) Frequent and inappropriate displays of anger.
This was more at himself than anything else.
5) Recurrent suicidal threats or gestures, or self-mutilating behaviours.
6) Lack of clear sense of identity.
7) Chronic feelings of emptiness or boredom.
8) Frantic efforts to avod real or imagined abandonment.
It also goes on to say that:
The lure of ecstatic experiences, whether attained through sex, drugs, or other means, is sometimes overwhelming for the borderline personality. In ecstasy, he can return to a primal world where the self and the external world merge -- a form of second infancy.
Though feeling continually victimized by others, a borderline ironically and desperately seeks out new relationships, for solitude, even temporary aloneness, is more intolerable than mistreatment. In the relentless search for a structured role in life, the borderline is typically attracted to -- and attracts to her -- others with complementary personality disorders.
Yet, for a borderline, relationships often disintegrate quickly. Maintaining closeness with a borderlien requires an understanding of the syndrome and a willingness to endure a logn walk on a perilous tightrope. Too much closeness threatens the borderline with suffocation. Keeping one's distance or leaaving a borderline alone -- even for brief periods -- recalls the sense of abandonment he felt as a child. In either case, the borderline reacts intensely.
And on to job problems:
Though borderlines have extreme difficulties managing their personal lives, many are able to function productively in a work situation -- particularly if the job is well-structured, clearly defined, and supportive. Many perform well for long periods, but then suddenly -- because of a change in the job structure, or a drastic shift in personal life, or just plain boredom and craving for change -- they abruptly leave or sabotage their position and go on to their next opportunity.
Of course Craig had just had a promotion at work which he was very nervous about -- he thought his coworkers would see him as "the failure that he really was."
A lot of this book makes sense to me in relation to Craig. It also hits home to me, strongly, in many ways. I know I have problems when it comes to feeling desperately insecure. I don't particularly like myself. I drink. I certainly push people away then feel awfully abandoned when I am rejected.
A little likeness for likeness.
Tomorrow is the first day of July. How could so much sadness happen in a year?
So...the borderline personality suffer from eight common criteria:
1) Unstable and intense interpersonal relationships.
I can vouch for that! INTENSE....oh boy, yes...we were intense in every way. We CLUNG to each other, our love making was intense, our fights were intense, our passion for each other was intense, our need was intense, our fears were intense. There was no doubting that we loved each other.
2) Impulsiveness in potentially self-damaging behaviours, such as substance abuse, sex, shoplifting, reckless driving, binge eating.
Craig could be impulsive but I'd say it was mostly substance abuse and sex. Something I really didn't approve of was his using G....a drug unknown to me and frankly, when he was on it he was a monster. He became extremely sexual -- apparently it alters your perception so that even people who are ugly look good and you would just about do anyone! I know he was faithful to me at the end of our relationship, but that had always been a concern for me...even he had said that if he was going to cheat, that would be the only thing that could fuck him up and cause him to. Again, it was escapism for him. He also smoked pot, which is nothing big and only at his friend's house. But I failed to see why you had to get high with someone all the time....can't you just have a beer and laugh???! They'd light up, smoke....and then his friend would be asleep in half an hour -- where's the fun in that??
He also took comfort in food when he was down, his weight fluctuated greatly. After he died and I was cleaning out the locker downstairs I found laundry baskets full of dirty clothes that he had no doubt just dumped down there when I was coming for a visit! He had countless pairs of beige pants, shirts and t-shirts. I always wondered where his clothes disappeared to and there they all were!
3) Severe mood shifts.
This was certainly true of Craig. I think it was more a case of the severity of his moods than sudden mood shifts. He would cry desperately and feel very blue. We'd get out of the apartment and walk, that seemed to help. I always found his apartment to be oppressive.
4) Frequent and inappropriate displays of anger.
This was more at himself than anything else.
5) Recurrent suicidal threats or gestures, or self-mutilating behaviours.
6) Lack of clear sense of identity.
7) Chronic feelings of emptiness or boredom.
8) Frantic efforts to avod real or imagined abandonment.
It also goes on to say that:
The lure of ecstatic experiences, whether attained through sex, drugs, or other means, is sometimes overwhelming for the borderline personality. In ecstasy, he can return to a primal world where the self and the external world merge -- a form of second infancy.
Though feeling continually victimized by others, a borderline ironically and desperately seeks out new relationships, for solitude, even temporary aloneness, is more intolerable than mistreatment. In the relentless search for a structured role in life, the borderline is typically attracted to -- and attracts to her -- others with complementary personality disorders.
Yet, for a borderline, relationships often disintegrate quickly. Maintaining closeness with a borderlien requires an understanding of the syndrome and a willingness to endure a logn walk on a perilous tightrope. Too much closeness threatens the borderline with suffocation. Keeping one's distance or leaaving a borderline alone -- even for brief periods -- recalls the sense of abandonment he felt as a child. In either case, the borderline reacts intensely.
And on to job problems:
Though borderlines have extreme difficulties managing their personal lives, many are able to function productively in a work situation -- particularly if the job is well-structured, clearly defined, and supportive. Many perform well for long periods, but then suddenly -- because of a change in the job structure, or a drastic shift in personal life, or just plain boredom and craving for change -- they abruptly leave or sabotage their position and go on to their next opportunity.
Of course Craig had just had a promotion at work which he was very nervous about -- he thought his coworkers would see him as "the failure that he really was."
A lot of this book makes sense to me in relation to Craig. It also hits home to me, strongly, in many ways. I know I have problems when it comes to feeling desperately insecure. I don't particularly like myself. I drink. I certainly push people away then feel awfully abandoned when I am rejected.
A little likeness for likeness.
Tomorrow is the first day of July. How could so much sadness happen in a year?
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Peas for Peace Please!
Urgh....what a dull day. There has been NOTHING for me to do at work, and worse still -- the internet has been down (gasp!!) so we haven't even been able to browse useless websites.
Funnily enough, I can get into blogger.com. It's just the REST of the world wide web that is suffering.
To relieve the total, utter boredom I went to the market and bought peas in a pod. They're great! It's like a return to my childhood -- I haven't then in years. So, I am now munching through a bag of podded peas and telling anyone who cares to read about it.
We heard today that Ethan has gone to the cottage (school got out yesterday) so I have no idea when he'll be back. I miss the little guy! I feel like I haven't seen him properly for a while.
Becky is having problems and is going to visit her mum tonight at the apartment. I'm not really surprised she's having problems considering she's hanging out with someone who is full of blame and hate and has put up a wall to the truth. I'm thinking about getting a t-shirt with 'THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE' emblazoned on it. I might as well support my own cause.
Funnily enough, I can get into blogger.com. It's just the REST of the world wide web that is suffering.
To relieve the total, utter boredom I went to the market and bought peas in a pod. They're great! It's like a return to my childhood -- I haven't then in years. So, I am now munching through a bag of podded peas and telling anyone who cares to read about it.
We heard today that Ethan has gone to the cottage (school got out yesterday) so I have no idea when he'll be back. I miss the little guy! I feel like I haven't seen him properly for a while.
Becky is having problems and is going to visit her mum tonight at the apartment. I'm not really surprised she's having problems considering she's hanging out with someone who is full of blame and hate and has put up a wall to the truth. I'm thinking about getting a t-shirt with 'THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE' emblazoned on it. I might as well support my own cause.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
What I miss about Craig.
I miss it being me, Craig and Ethan. I miss the times when we felt like we could be a family; a weird little quirky family, but a family.
Being able to put Ethan to bed at night, having tubby time, watching telly and walking on the big metal steps - just the 3 of us.
Laughing and singing along to Fastball - The Way, and far, far worse -- Bryan Adams 'Everything I do'.
Craig doing impressions of Mel Gibson in Braveheart "I love ya, always have!"
His chest hair.
The way his eyes lit up when he looked at his son.
The way he'd rub his hands together when he was eating something he really liked.
Being able to call him.
Getting emails from him and howling over them as he'd make me laugh so hard.
Knowing he was there.
Watching him play guitar.
His eyelashes.
The moons on his fingernails.
Spending all day in bed with him. Oh yes!
Watching movies and drinking wine on the couch together.
Having someone to be proud of.
Having someone to be proud of me.
Him reassuring me and hearing him say: "I love you SO much."
Holding his hand.
The way he appreciated each and every meal I made for him.
Roast chicken and baked potatoes.
Lying in the bath and being fed Chef Boyardee ravioli and toast.
Hearing him say: "Mrs PAWWWWS" to the kitty.
Having him in my life.
Being able to put Ethan to bed at night, having tubby time, watching telly and walking on the big metal steps - just the 3 of us.
Laughing and singing along to Fastball - The Way, and far, far worse -- Bryan Adams 'Everything I do'.
Craig doing impressions of Mel Gibson in Braveheart "I love ya, always have!"
His chest hair.
The way his eyes lit up when he looked at his son.
The way he'd rub his hands together when he was eating something he really liked.
Being able to call him.
Getting emails from him and howling over them as he'd make me laugh so hard.
Knowing he was there.
Watching him play guitar.
His eyelashes.
The moons on his fingernails.
Spending all day in bed with him. Oh yes!
Watching movies and drinking wine on the couch together.
Having someone to be proud of.
Having someone to be proud of me.
Him reassuring me and hearing him say: "I love you SO much."
Holding his hand.
The way he appreciated each and every meal I made for him.
Roast chicken and baked potatoes.
Lying in the bath and being fed Chef Boyardee ravioli and toast.
Hearing him say: "Mrs PAWWWWS" to the kitty.
Having him in my life.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Getting anxious about getting anxious
How ridiculous is this? Today I am reading online about tapering off Effexor XR (which I suppose I've been taking for ummmm....3 months now) and the comments online were so negative (due to the fact that coming off causes BRAIN ZAPS) that I started getting all panicky sitting at my computer. I then had to go to the mall -- which is my FAVOURITE place -- and felt quirky and bizarre the entire time.
Admittedly, this mall is full of freaks - I'm talking people with extra HEADS for God's sake.
Maybe I'm quite right to feel worried.
Admittedly, this mall is full of freaks - I'm talking people with extra HEADS for God's sake.
Maybe I'm quite right to feel worried.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Save a life! Ride a chatter.
Whilst in a Yahoo! Depression chat room I had the wonderful and gratifying experience of being able to save a life. Yes, that's right. A poor chap was very upset and wanted to know all about the details of how and why Craig had taken his life. Our online friend decided Craig had had to call it quits because 'all women are evil' and he could never get what he want. He then proceeded to tell me that, although I hadn't been able to save Craig, I could, if I would be so kind, help him to survive by............
Helping him to masturbate!
Ah! Of course! Life's saviour!
I expect he's dead by now.
Helping him to masturbate!
Ah! Of course! Life's saviour!
I expect he's dead by now.
The Way
I find it hard to write in this these days. There has been so much going on, but due to the meds I'm now finding it easier to sleep so I'm not up at 2am so often. I have decided that I WILL attempt to write more -- I'm having trouble with LOTS OF ANGER GRRRRRRRRRR and it would probably be good for me to get jotting again. Jotting, not jogging......no health for me thank you very much.
I've joined an online suicide support group for partners. I did join last summer but found the influx of emails to my yahoo account a little intimidating. There was so much pain and I couldn't deal with it. I'm giving it another whirl. Surprisingly, the moderators remembered me....it was comforting knowing that.
I remember Craig and I singing along to Fastball's 'The Way'.....the song made me cry THEN, but now, it seems even more poignant.
The chorus is exactly as I think of Craig now -- I hope he is free, happy and at peace.
Anyone can see the road that they walk on
Is paved in gold
And it's always summer
They'll never get cold
They'll never get hungry
They'll never get old and grey
You can see their shadows wandering off
Somewhere
They won't make it home
But they really don't care
They wanted the highway
They're happier there today
Today
I've joined an online suicide support group for partners. I did join last summer but found the influx of emails to my yahoo account a little intimidating. There was so much pain and I couldn't deal with it. I'm giving it another whirl. Surprisingly, the moderators remembered me....it was comforting knowing that.
I remember Craig and I singing along to Fastball's 'The Way'.....the song made me cry THEN, but now, it seems even more poignant.
The chorus is exactly as I think of Craig now -- I hope he is free, happy and at peace.
Anyone can see the road that they walk on
Is paved in gold
And it's always summer
They'll never get cold
They'll never get hungry
They'll never get old and grey
You can see their shadows wandering off
Somewhere
They won't make it home
But they really don't care
They wanted the highway
They're happier there today
Today
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Oh pill-ease!
Went to the doctors on wednesday for a physical. He, being the good doctor, checked on my general well-being mentally and physically and I told him that I had drunk an entire bottle of wine the night before. I suppose that doesn't constitute as a 'glass of wine with dinner'.
He has now put me on Effexor.
I've been feeling a lot of tension with Rebecca. I am realising how angry I am at her for asking me if I had 'wanted Craig to die' and for her telling me that she had been hating me. Lately I have been avoiding her as I have not wanted to hear about what her father has said or be the victim of rumours. I find it sickening that although Craig hung himself, I have been faced with the gallows and a very public execution myself through people looking to BLAME. I have bitten my lip and TAKEN it, but I now wonder at to what cost to myself. This feeling of being hated has in turn taken it's toll on my perception of my relationship with Craig -- I am finding it increasingly hard to recall any fond memories of us. I have stopped looking at photos -- turning face down pictures I had up in my bedroom of him.
Of course I will always feel guilty that I wasn't aware enough, that I didn't come home early enough, that I just didn't DO enough -- but that doesn't justify people aiming their guns and firing at me.
My relationship with Craig was loving but difficult -- how could it have not been?
I see other girlfriends, including Rebecca, treating their boyfriends in the same manner as I may have done with Craig at times -- I am HUMAN -- an insecure little fucked-up one at that.
I thought about the apartment tonight. Imagined myself walking back inside. Maybe there I would be able to recapture us -- right now there's just pain.
He has now put me on Effexor.
I've been feeling a lot of tension with Rebecca. I am realising how angry I am at her for asking me if I had 'wanted Craig to die' and for her telling me that she had been hating me. Lately I have been avoiding her as I have not wanted to hear about what her father has said or be the victim of rumours. I find it sickening that although Craig hung himself, I have been faced with the gallows and a very public execution myself through people looking to BLAME. I have bitten my lip and TAKEN it, but I now wonder at to what cost to myself. This feeling of being hated has in turn taken it's toll on my perception of my relationship with Craig -- I am finding it increasingly hard to recall any fond memories of us. I have stopped looking at photos -- turning face down pictures I had up in my bedroom of him.
Of course I will always feel guilty that I wasn't aware enough, that I didn't come home early enough, that I just didn't DO enough -- but that doesn't justify people aiming their guns and firing at me.
My relationship with Craig was loving but difficult -- how could it have not been?
I see other girlfriends, including Rebecca, treating their boyfriends in the same manner as I may have done with Craig at times -- I am HUMAN -- an insecure little fucked-up one at that.
I thought about the apartment tonight. Imagined myself walking back inside. Maybe there I would be able to recapture us -- right now there's just pain.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
We all die by suicide
Things are getting really fucked up again. I'm resenting being around Craig's family -- I'm angry with them to the point where I feel like I hate them. Unfair and disillusional maybe, but I can't help not wanting to be anywhere near them.
Endured another shock to the system this weekend which has knocked me for six.
Went on a blind date who turned out to be blind drunk. A disaster. Another failure.
There is too much I hate about me at the moment.
Can't stop crying.
Endured another shock to the system this weekend which has knocked me for six.
Went on a blind date who turned out to be blind drunk. A disaster. Another failure.
There is too much I hate about me at the moment.
Can't stop crying.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
That man's father is my father's son
I had the day off from work today -- a relief considering the long hours we 'as a team' have been working.
I leave the room this morning and the first thing I hear is thanks, for bringing home an extra portion of food from the restaurant last night, followed swiftly by "I'm very sick."
I live with Craig's mother. She has had breast cancer. I feel for her, and yet her constant reminders of sickness and disease fills me with panic. I am unable to look after and care for another person at the moment. I took an anti-anxiety pill at 9:30 AM.
The illness brings back painful memories of my mother's cancer -- she died quickly but painfully after being diagnosed with colon cancer. She never once mentioned that she was sick to me. I was informed by counsellors who told me that she had a matter of months to live. A woman would come to visit me weekly, I convinced her I was fine while I drank away my fragility in the pub. She was taken into hospital in October and was dead by New Years Day. I remember hearing the U2 song in my head and it haunting me.
I leave the room this morning and the first thing I hear is thanks, for bringing home an extra portion of food from the restaurant last night, followed swiftly by "I'm very sick."
I live with Craig's mother. She has had breast cancer. I feel for her, and yet her constant reminders of sickness and disease fills me with panic. I am unable to look after and care for another person at the moment. I took an anti-anxiety pill at 9:30 AM.
The illness brings back painful memories of my mother's cancer -- she died quickly but painfully after being diagnosed with colon cancer. She never once mentioned that she was sick to me. I was informed by counsellors who told me that she had a matter of months to live. A woman would come to visit me weekly, I convinced her I was fine while I drank away my fragility in the pub. She was taken into hospital in October and was dead by New Years Day. I remember hearing the U2 song in my head and it haunting me.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Daze gone by.
My head has finally cleared after the effects of a drunken night -- I accomplished absolutely NOTHING at work today. The city was blanketed in fog and so was my head for the best part of the day. We had an impromptu works gathering last night (I THINK it was to celebrate our tenth anniversay, but the details weren't too clear after a couple of downtown cosmo's) and I ended up locking lips with Patrick for the second time. We managed to make it to a pub for last orders and ended up sitting there at 3 AM holding hands across the table. I remember clinging in a manner of speaking, to his hands. It is such a small gesture but it brought home to me how lonely I have been. The smallest act of physical contact -- holding hands -- broke me so completely.
He drove me home and we kissed. I felt real emotion for the first time since Craig's death.
This is my greatest act
I've come boomeranging back
Grinning like a Rudolph Valentino
But then you grab your travel log
Like a swingin' grinnin' dog
And hop on that fast boat to Sydney
Coz I'm a cheat and I'm a liar
But you're a lovin' ball of fire
Honey I'll leave you like a bum without a penny
And while I'm home with the blues
I'll be hopping like a kangaroo
When I get off of that fast boat to Sydney -- Fast Boat to Sydney, June Carter & Johnny Cash
He drove me home and we kissed. I felt real emotion for the first time since Craig's death.
This is my greatest act
I've come boomeranging back
Grinning like a Rudolph Valentino
But then you grab your travel log
Like a swingin' grinnin' dog
And hop on that fast boat to Sydney
Coz I'm a cheat and I'm a liar
But you're a lovin' ball of fire
Honey I'll leave you like a bum without a penny
And while I'm home with the blues
I'll be hopping like a kangaroo
When I get off of that fast boat to Sydney -- Fast Boat to Sydney, June Carter & Johnny Cash
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Knowing me.
Applying mascara this morning I noticed a tiny mole on my finger that I had never noticed before. It seems strange that I have lived in this body for 34 years and am still so unfamiliar with myself.
Could I really say I know somewhere like the back of my hand? I guess not.
Could I really say I know somewhere like the back of my hand? I guess not.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Go on - FORCE IT!!!
Not wanting to write at all tonight -- but what is a blog if it is left ignored? You don't expect me to entertain you, do you?
Get out of town...
I was sent a really disgusting photo of Axl Rose today. He has put on a few burgers, and KFC's, and Taco Bells... I couldn't believe it was really him. Don't get me wrong -- I never liked the bastard....but that really takes the cake (haha?!)
Oooh...deary.
I'm not sure what's worse -- the fact that he was impersonating Ali G (for whom I have the upmost respect) or the fact that he's such a slob now. Votes please.
Get out of town...
I was sent a really disgusting photo of Axl Rose today. He has put on a few burgers, and KFC's, and Taco Bells... I couldn't believe it was really him. Don't get me wrong -- I never liked the bastard....but that really takes the cake (haha?!)
Oooh...deary.
I'm not sure what's worse -- the fact that he was impersonating Ali G (for whom I have the upmost respect) or the fact that he's such a slob now. Votes please.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Passage from a book
I'm reading 'Another Bullshit Night in Suck City' by Nick Flynn.
This is a passage from the book, at the age of 22, after his mother's suicide in the weeks before Christmas.
"I reappear at school at the end of January, hollowed out by it all, but I don't know where else to be. I return to my room off-campus, in a house with four "radical" women, my friends, who taught me, finally, how to be a vegetarian. I enroll for classes, show up on time, but I can't seem to focus on the second half of Shakespeare, the comedies. Or on eating. And I can't stop crying. At one point a few weeks into the semester I find myself slumming in the Frost Library at Amherst College, reading Faulkner in one of those comfortable Ivy League chairs, and after a while I realize I haven't turned the page in over an hour. I focus on a sentence, a word, and get hung up -- each seems to have its own set of problems, its own code, until at some point I understand that I'm holding the book upside down. I right it, but even then my mind gets entangled, a sentence comes at me like a truck without a driver, bearing down -- It wasn't any woman that got her into what she don't even call trouble -- I try to get out of its way, I turn it over and over, but it's more an echo than a piece of something larger. My eyes go to the period and back to the first word, it means something more than I can unlock. Wasn't any woman...got her into what...she don't even call... I know then it will be impossible for me to finish school."
Anyone who has experienced suicide (or indeed, any unfathomable death) will be able to relate to the above. My mind in the weeks and months following Craig's death was a fog. I couldn't dress myself properly, I was unable to concentrate on television (something I admit to being a junkie of previously), reading was impossible, I stopped eating -- cooking was a myth.
I didn't buy this book knowing there would be any mention of suicide -- it's funny how it chases you.
This is a passage from the book, at the age of 22, after his mother's suicide in the weeks before Christmas.
"I reappear at school at the end of January, hollowed out by it all, but I don't know where else to be. I return to my room off-campus, in a house with four "radical" women, my friends, who taught me, finally, how to be a vegetarian. I enroll for classes, show up on time, but I can't seem to focus on the second half of Shakespeare, the comedies. Or on eating. And I can't stop crying. At one point a few weeks into the semester I find myself slumming in the Frost Library at Amherst College, reading Faulkner in one of those comfortable Ivy League chairs, and after a while I realize I haven't turned the page in over an hour. I focus on a sentence, a word, and get hung up -- each seems to have its own set of problems, its own code, until at some point I understand that I'm holding the book upside down. I right it, but even then my mind gets entangled, a sentence comes at me like a truck without a driver, bearing down -- It wasn't any woman that got her into what she don't even call trouble -- I try to get out of its way, I turn it over and over, but it's more an echo than a piece of something larger. My eyes go to the period and back to the first word, it means something more than I can unlock. Wasn't any woman...got her into what...she don't even call... I know then it will be impossible for me to finish school."
Anyone who has experienced suicide (or indeed, any unfathomable death) will be able to relate to the above. My mind in the weeks and months following Craig's death was a fog. I couldn't dress myself properly, I was unable to concentrate on television (something I admit to being a junkie of previously), reading was impossible, I stopped eating -- cooking was a myth.
I didn't buy this book knowing there would be any mention of suicide -- it's funny how it chases you.
Garlicky vegetables
There are other things that happen in my life, other than Craig's suicide. It's just that in context they are really not that important -- like the 'garlicky vegetables' mentioned above.
Last night I went to see 'Brokeback Mountain' at the movies with a co-worker (female, no love on the horizon yet.) I was blown away by the movie -- the scenery alone (filmed in Alberta) was enough to knock your socks off. I have flown over the region and from the sky it looked like an immense chocolate cake dusted with icing sugar -- you could almost open wide and BITE right into it.
Dubbed as the 'gay cowboy' movie it is a heartbreaking account of two people conforming to ideals and not following their hearts until the bitter end when it is far too late to do so. Scenes of Ennis clutching on to personal momentos brought on the tear machine. I now vow to do what makes me happy.
Following the movie Anayis and I went for a horrible meal at Montana's. I had what sounded like what was going to be a real treat -- beef and yorkshire pud -- but actually turned out to be rather icky beef, with a cold pud and garlicky mashed potatos (ok....mashed with garlic, yeah ok....we can do that) but then it seemed like someone in the kitchen had decided that sticking a shitload of garlic onto the vegetables just for the hell of it, would actually be a good idea. They were HORRIBLE....and I love my veggies normally. A brand spanking new yorky pud still didn't up my estimations so I left with a 'No more Montana's for me' sign on my forehead.
It is Saturday morning. I am drinking tea, receiving text messages from Jackey and updating my blog.
I have to work today.
Still no pills. We could write that two ways, like:
Still, no pills.
Or just as I did originally, they both mean something slightly different.
Last night I went to see 'Brokeback Mountain' at the movies with a co-worker (female, no love on the horizon yet.) I was blown away by the movie -- the scenery alone (filmed in Alberta) was enough to knock your socks off. I have flown over the region and from the sky it looked like an immense chocolate cake dusted with icing sugar -- you could almost open wide and BITE right into it.
Dubbed as the 'gay cowboy' movie it is a heartbreaking account of two people conforming to ideals and not following their hearts until the bitter end when it is far too late to do so. Scenes of Ennis clutching on to personal momentos brought on the tear machine. I now vow to do what makes me happy.
Following the movie Anayis and I went for a horrible meal at Montana's. I had what sounded like what was going to be a real treat -- beef and yorkshire pud -- but actually turned out to be rather icky beef, with a cold pud and garlicky mashed potatos (ok....mashed with garlic, yeah ok....we can do that) but then it seemed like someone in the kitchen had decided that sticking a shitload of garlic onto the vegetables just for the hell of it, would actually be a good idea. They were HORRIBLE....and I love my veggies normally. A brand spanking new yorky pud still didn't up my estimations so I left with a 'No more Montana's for me' sign on my forehead.
It is Saturday morning. I am drinking tea, receiving text messages from Jackey and updating my blog.
I have to work today.
Still no pills. We could write that two ways, like:
Still, no pills.
Or just as I did originally, they both mean something slightly different.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Visions of you.
Today I see Craig in the shopping mall. He is standing in front of me as I walk, standing sideways with his head turned away from me. For a moment my step falters and I look at him -- imagining it to be him and that none of the sadness had happened -- and then his head turns and my heart sinks as his face is not his own but belongs to a stranger. It looked so much like him standing there; same posture, same build -- his hands in his pockets -- I thought it was him.
I have not taken any Paxil today but my hormones are kicking in. It's a definitive cycle. I get horribly teary and become a huge pain in the bum for everyone I work with and basically ANYONE who has to deal with me. I seem to take a lot of it out on my friend Justin -- maybe it's because the poor bugger is male and I feel safe enough with him to let go of some of this anger -- it's certainly not fair on him, especially since he's been such a huge help to me through all of this torment.
I went to look at new cars. Could handle the cost of a new car but it seems the cost of insurance could eat me alive.
I'm new to Canada -- arrived here from Australia, via England (more on that to come) but unfortunately my prior driving experience (I have been driving since age 17) counts for peanuts. It'll be a whopping $305 per month and that's through a buddy of a buddy. I phoned an alternative company and was quoted just under $600 a month -- holy f&*k! I'm hoping to get a horse but I might as well scrap the car and just ride the horse to work.
Horses = therapy. Sadly, neither come cheap.
I have not taken any Paxil today but my hormones are kicking in. It's a definitive cycle. I get horribly teary and become a huge pain in the bum for everyone I work with and basically ANYONE who has to deal with me. I seem to take a lot of it out on my friend Justin -- maybe it's because the poor bugger is male and I feel safe enough with him to let go of some of this anger -- it's certainly not fair on him, especially since he's been such a huge help to me through all of this torment.
I went to look at new cars. Could handle the cost of a new car but it seems the cost of insurance could eat me alive.
I'm new to Canada -- arrived here from Australia, via England (more on that to come) but unfortunately my prior driving experience (I have been driving since age 17) counts for peanuts. It'll be a whopping $305 per month and that's through a buddy of a buddy. I phoned an alternative company and was quoted just under $600 a month -- holy f&*k! I'm hoping to get a horse but I might as well scrap the car and just ride the horse to work.
Horses = therapy. Sadly, neither come cheap.
An eye for an eye
Tonight I can see Craig clearly in my mind as I lie in bed. I see him with the black leather belt tied around his neck -- knot to the back -- his red t-shirt with 'MEXICO' emblazoned across it and his khaki combat shorts with the frayed orange pullstring. He is just standing there, looking at me. He has been crying and he looks so helpless. I see him as he stares at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door before removing it and laying it on the bed. I see him take the chair from the computer and move it to the door, the back of the chair facing to the left of the door as he steps on to it, the door ajar so he can slip the belt through -- buckle behind the door so it won't pull through. I see him push the door shut, tug on the belt ensuring it is secure. I see him turn. One final thought: It will be better for everyone -- and push the chair, forwards or backwards, I never can tell.
I hear the decision in his voice when I had spoken to him earlier in the night, mind already made up. I can see him say goodbye to his friend -- shake his hand, walk back to the apartment in the next door building, knowing what he was about to do. Those final last steps.
I cry, I tell him I miss him. As I wipe away the tears they sear into the miserable paper cut I have on my finger from work this afternoon.
I have not taken the Paxil today. Maybe this is why I am feeling.
And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this weighing of the truth.
An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth
And anyway I told the truth
And I'm not afraid to die. -- Johnny Cash, The Mercy Seat.
I hear the decision in his voice when I had spoken to him earlier in the night, mind already made up. I can see him say goodbye to his friend -- shake his hand, walk back to the apartment in the next door building, knowing what he was about to do. Those final last steps.
I cry, I tell him I miss him. As I wipe away the tears they sear into the miserable paper cut I have on my finger from work this afternoon.
I have not taken the Paxil today. Maybe this is why I am feeling.
And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this weighing of the truth.
An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth
And anyway I told the truth
And I'm not afraid to die. -- Johnny Cash, The Mercy Seat.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Second post
Forcing myself to write tonight -- already!
My doctor put me on Paxil last week, today has been the fourth day of me taking it. I feel nauseous and more panicked and anxious than before. I went out for dessert and hot chocolate with friends and they commented on my 'jitters'. Also been given Ativan to calm me down -- curiously, I feel the Ativan alone would do more for me. I'm going to give it a few more days and see how things go.
Craig's sister was over last night. I drank and discovered that Paxil and alcohol is a combination I should avoid. I have noticed a decrease in my usual craving for a glass of wine at night, I suppose that is a good thing at least. We, as usual, went over details of Craig's death. I opened up a little and told her that I have been consistently agonizing over the last few hours and wondering if he had tried to stop himself once he'd tied the belt and tipped the chair.
Craig had drunk six beers on the night of his death -- six tallboys of Grolsch. I'm convinced he must have also taken clonazepam when he came home. He had half a pill left in his pill bottle and I remember him taking one pill and also giving one to me on that afternoon, after we had visited his counsellor. Both of us had returned from that meeting shaking and we needed something to calm down, this was a detail that I hadn't remembered previously. Yes, clonazepam calms you down, but I think he may have taken enough purposefully so he would be unable to save himself once he had started to hang himself.
I'm dreading work tomorrow. I am beginnning to feel an enormous amount of weight on my shoulders and feel gradually more and more overwhelmed at the prospect of the next couple of months. I can barely keep it together for a day.
My doctor put me on Paxil last week, today has been the fourth day of me taking it. I feel nauseous and more panicked and anxious than before. I went out for dessert and hot chocolate with friends and they commented on my 'jitters'. Also been given Ativan to calm me down -- curiously, I feel the Ativan alone would do more for me. I'm going to give it a few more days and see how things go.
Craig's sister was over last night. I drank and discovered that Paxil and alcohol is a combination I should avoid. I have noticed a decrease in my usual craving for a glass of wine at night, I suppose that is a good thing at least. We, as usual, went over details of Craig's death. I opened up a little and told her that I have been consistently agonizing over the last few hours and wondering if he had tried to stop himself once he'd tied the belt and tipped the chair.
Craig had drunk six beers on the night of his death -- six tallboys of Grolsch. I'm convinced he must have also taken clonazepam when he came home. He had half a pill left in his pill bottle and I remember him taking one pill and also giving one to me on that afternoon, after we had visited his counsellor. Both of us had returned from that meeting shaking and we needed something to calm down, this was a detail that I hadn't remembered previously. Yes, clonazepam calms you down, but I think he may have taken enough purposefully so he would be unable to save himself once he had started to hang himself.
I'm dreading work tomorrow. I am beginnning to feel an enormous amount of weight on my shoulders and feel gradually more and more overwhelmed at the prospect of the next couple of months. I can barely keep it together for a day.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Beginning
There is a reason for me doing this.
When you've turned the lights off for the umpteenth time in the hope of sleep welcoming you and yet again your mind turns to the impossible, you get the impression it is time to write things down.
And so I do.
Today is February 3rd, 2006 and 6 months ago, on the night of July 23rd (or the morning of July 24th, depending on how you look at it) my boyfriend Craig took his own life.
I can't begin to describe the impossible disbelief and utter denial I have experienced as a result of his death. I miss him, I love him, I'm so angry with him it burns me.
There is a lot that I have to say about the past six months and it is a journey that is far from over. This blog will be a tool for me to express the feelings inside of me and experience in detail something necessary but grotesque -- the things that torture me as I lie in bed waiting for sleep.
I am sure there are many other 'bloggers' like me, looking for the answers that lie somewhere in the realms of their minds, or in the possibilities that writing unfolds. This is not to be a work of literary mastery.
When you've turned the lights off for the umpteenth time in the hope of sleep welcoming you and yet again your mind turns to the impossible, you get the impression it is time to write things down.
And so I do.
Today is February 3rd, 2006 and 6 months ago, on the night of July 23rd (or the morning of July 24th, depending on how you look at it) my boyfriend Craig took his own life.
I can't begin to describe the impossible disbelief and utter denial I have experienced as a result of his death. I miss him, I love him, I'm so angry with him it burns me.
There is a lot that I have to say about the past six months and it is a journey that is far from over. This blog will be a tool for me to express the feelings inside of me and experience in detail something necessary but grotesque -- the things that torture me as I lie in bed waiting for sleep.
I am sure there are many other 'bloggers' like me, looking for the answers that lie somewhere in the realms of their minds, or in the possibilities that writing unfolds. This is not to be a work of literary mastery.
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