If happiness is a choice, so is not having cancer. Still stuck with diabetes? You're not choosing hard enough. Choose harder, it's your choice to be sick and therefore it's your fault and you deserve it. Listen to my inspiring message of self-righteousness. If it makes you feel shitty about yourself that's because you're a shitty person who does not deserve to be happy and healthy because you are too stupid and/or lazy to make the right choice. *insert inspirational background image here* (and then go f*** yourself.)
I get it, there are some things that I can (and do) choose that may help me feel less miserable. I could certainly choose to be more miserable than necessary. That's easy. But choosing to not be miserable and choosing to be happy are two different things. My brain does not produce and/or respond to neurotransmitters appropriately. Seratonin, dopamine, norepinephrine, all that good stuff, is either in short supply or is quickly consumed or the receptors are not very receptive or something. That's what it means to have a mood disorder. Most of the time, if life is an emotional landscape ranging from sea level to the peak of Mount Everest, I'm stuck in Saskatchewan. On a good day, I might get a few negligible hills and valleys (think Edmonton... still eerily flat). But I rarely, if ever, get to BC. I vaguely remember what BC feels like. I was there in my childhood sometimes. I know that "extremes" like happiness and sadness exist, I just... only get to look at the postcards. And, being stuck on the prairies, I'm more likely to fall in a hole than find a mountain to climb. Sure, I could choose to manufacture a mountain for myself, but then I am likely to fall into the gaping pit I just dug to get the dirt to make the hill. What a waste of time and effort, and all for something fake and, in the end, harmful.
So, suggesting that someone with a brain like mine should "choose" to be happy is rather like suggesting we "choose" to levitate to a higher elevation. Ain't no mountains here, just willpower. Maybe instead of shaming me for being stuck out here, you could invite me to visit your cottage in the BC Interior for a weekend. Those little tastes of happiness are what sustain me through the long, dark prairie winters of "oh hey your dysthymia just shifted into full-on depression mode". A girl can only "choose" to jump so high, you know.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Monday, August 04, 2014
Home
Seeing the hills and trees in their proper place, filling the void between ground and sky, and breathing the air that tastes of sweet clover blossoms and sun-warmed forest makes me feel desperately homesick.
Although it has been sixteen years since I was uprooted, it still hurts to be torn away from my homeland again. I weep helplessly as the bus careers through my beloved mountains, not knowing when I will escape and return to them once more.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Mental Illness In the Media
Recently, I have seen episodes that deal with mental illness on a couple of favourite shows. The first one, an episode of Doctor Who involving Vincent Van Gogh, was absolutely spot-on. The second, an episode of Drop Dead Diva in which Jane's mother is arrested for erratic behaviour and diagnosed with bipolar disorder, both wins and fails horribly.
Vincent Van Gogh, for those of you who do not have an interest in history, art, or art history, was a Dutch painter whose art was not recognised or appreciated during his lifetime. He is now considered one of the most influential painters of all time, and his style influenced a number of expressionist and modernist artists. Van Gogh is the dude who chopped off his earlobe and gave it to a prostitute after a falling-out with a fellow painter. He is known to have suffered bouts of mental illness, growing in intensity and frequency towards the end of his life. He committed suicide in 1890.
In the Doctor Who episode "Vincent and the Doctor" (link contains spoilers), Van Gogh is seen enduring extreme mood shifts, moving from apathy to melancholy to wonder and delight to irrational anger to deep existential despair, and so on. The Doctor does not seem to scorn or pity him, but rather treats him with compassion. Through the events of the episode, Van Gogh falls sort of wryly in love with Amy, the Doctor's companion, and what one would presume to be the hallucinations of a man grappling with schizophrenia or an over-fondness for absinthe are shown to actually be an invisible homicidal alien whom only Van Gogh can see. After the thing with the alien is resolved, and Van Gogh is treated to a glimpse of his future fame and popularity, Amy eagerly rushes back to the art museum to see if there are new paintings there. She thought that their twenty-four hours of good times and happiness would have magically cured Van Gogh's malady and prevented his suicide. Much to her dismay, Van Gogh's suicide still occurred. The Doctor, while consoling her, says "The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant. And we definitely added to his pile of good things."
Apparently some have criticized the episode's ending as "utterly pointless" or unnecessarily emotional. I have to say that I was greatly impressed with the fact that Van Gogh was not miraculously cured in one day, as so often happens in tv shows or movies. He has a great day, and gets to see amazing possibilities in the universe. He sees that his legacy is much more far-reaching than he ever could have dreamt. But none of that changes what is ultimately an organic disorder. His neurotransmitters are still messed up. His brain still is not functioning typically, and he is not able to regulate or temper his moods. The thing about mental illness is that it is not rational. If we could just decide to feel better, or if we could just have one wonderfully joyful day, and that would magically make our neurons fire properly and our bodies produce the correct balance of chemicals to make us feel emotions appropriate to the situation, those of us living with mental illnesses would gladly pursue such options! The Doctor's little speech is also very important; just because life is filled with such persistent darkness and despair for so many of us, that doesn't mean that wonder and joy are not also present. And it also doesn't mean that the wonder and joy are able to dispel the darkness. Neither does it mean that the darkness makes the wonder and joy shine any less brightly, nor does the darkness diminish their significance and importance. The end of the episode conveys an important message to the family and friends of people who grapple daily with mood disorders and mental illnesses: Everything you do to shine some light and happiness into our lives is important. We need your joy and compassion and encouragement. However, there are times when nothing you can do is able to make us feel better. Sometimes, it might seem like nothing you do can help or make any difference. This is not your fault. This is not our fault. It simply is what it is. And never believe that your kindness and love are in vain; they matter greatly to us.
Right. I got kind of wrapped up in rambling/ranting over Doctor Who for a bit there. Sorry. The second episode I want to mention, the latest Drop Dead Diva episode, was kind of a disappointment in contrast. Don't get me wrong, it actually started out pretty good; it just falls short, as so many of the series's episodes do, of escaping the morass of popular perception.
I have been watching Drop Dead Diva in the hopes that it will somehow become less shallow and live up to its glimmer of potential. The first few episodes were great, if you ignore the theological implications; an aspiring model is on the brink of success, dies ironically, has a temper tantrum at the pearly gates, and hits the "Return" key on the keyboard, which apparently returns her to life on Earth -- except she wakes up in the body of Jane Bingham, a brilliant, selfless, overweight lawyer. The series wonderfully addresses the fact that body chemistry plays a part in things like food cravings; Jane thinks that her willpower can whip this body into shape in no time, but finds that things she would have shunned in her previous life (like doughnuts) overwhelmingly irresistible.
In this episode, Jane's (new to her) mother is arrested at a shopping mall, and in the course of getting her out of jail and dealing with the charges, Jane has to deal with her outrageous behaviour. When drug and alcohol tests come back clean, the judge orders a psychiatric assessment, which turns up a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. A lot of what is portrayed can be part of an accurate picture of bipolar disorder. The mother is intent upon having fun, despite possible consequences; in fact, she behaves as if the consequences do not apply to her. She has a hair-trigger temper, and is extremely defensive about her condition. It turns out she was actually diagnosed fifteen years prior, but did not like how the medication made her feel. She describes looking in the mirror and not recognizing the person she saw there. The prosecuting attorney mentions that she has escitalopram (brand name Lexapro or Cipralex) in her blood, as detected by the aforementioned drug test, and claims that the medication is known to induce a manic episode in patients with bipolar disorder. It turns out the mother had asked for the antidepressant, presumably because she preferred to avoid her depressive states. The mother agrees to follow a course of treatment involving medication, outpatient therapy, and exercise, and is released into the custody of her ex-husband (Jane's dad, of course) who wants to get back together with her as long as she takes her medicine. The major focus immediately shifts to medication therapy. Later, presumably that evening, the mother is portrayed as being magically back to normal, even though medications used to treat bipolar and other mood disorders typically take weeks or months to take full effect. There is an unspoken implication that the mom is now cured.
I cannot even begin to address how bad and wrong and awful this is! The world needs to see realistic portrayals of mental illness and its treatment, not this stupid fairy tale.
Today, the score is Drop Dead Diva: 0, Doctor Who: >9000.
Vincent Van Gogh, for those of you who do not have an interest in history, art, or art history, was a Dutch painter whose art was not recognised or appreciated during his lifetime. He is now considered one of the most influential painters of all time, and his style influenced a number of expressionist and modernist artists. Van Gogh is the dude who chopped off his earlobe and gave it to a prostitute after a falling-out with a fellow painter. He is known to have suffered bouts of mental illness, growing in intensity and frequency towards the end of his life. He committed suicide in 1890.
In the Doctor Who episode "Vincent and the Doctor" (link contains spoilers), Van Gogh is seen enduring extreme mood shifts, moving from apathy to melancholy to wonder and delight to irrational anger to deep existential despair, and so on. The Doctor does not seem to scorn or pity him, but rather treats him with compassion. Through the events of the episode, Van Gogh falls sort of wryly in love with Amy, the Doctor's companion, and what one would presume to be the hallucinations of a man grappling with schizophrenia or an over-fondness for absinthe are shown to actually be an invisible homicidal alien whom only Van Gogh can see. After the thing with the alien is resolved, and Van Gogh is treated to a glimpse of his future fame and popularity, Amy eagerly rushes back to the art museum to see if there are new paintings there. She thought that their twenty-four hours of good times and happiness would have magically cured Van Gogh's malady and prevented his suicide. Much to her dismay, Van Gogh's suicide still occurred. The Doctor, while consoling her, says "The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant. And we definitely added to his pile of good things."
Apparently some have criticized the episode's ending as "utterly pointless" or unnecessarily emotional. I have to say that I was greatly impressed with the fact that Van Gogh was not miraculously cured in one day, as so often happens in tv shows or movies. He has a great day, and gets to see amazing possibilities in the universe. He sees that his legacy is much more far-reaching than he ever could have dreamt. But none of that changes what is ultimately an organic disorder. His neurotransmitters are still messed up. His brain still is not functioning typically, and he is not able to regulate or temper his moods. The thing about mental illness is that it is not rational. If we could just decide to feel better, or if we could just have one wonderfully joyful day, and that would magically make our neurons fire properly and our bodies produce the correct balance of chemicals to make us feel emotions appropriate to the situation, those of us living with mental illnesses would gladly pursue such options! The Doctor's little speech is also very important; just because life is filled with such persistent darkness and despair for so many of us, that doesn't mean that wonder and joy are not also present. And it also doesn't mean that the wonder and joy are able to dispel the darkness. Neither does it mean that the darkness makes the wonder and joy shine any less brightly, nor does the darkness diminish their significance and importance. The end of the episode conveys an important message to the family and friends of people who grapple daily with mood disorders and mental illnesses: Everything you do to shine some light and happiness into our lives is important. We need your joy and compassion and encouragement. However, there are times when nothing you can do is able to make us feel better. Sometimes, it might seem like nothing you do can help or make any difference. This is not your fault. This is not our fault. It simply is what it is. And never believe that your kindness and love are in vain; they matter greatly to us.
Right. I got kind of wrapped up in rambling/ranting over Doctor Who for a bit there. Sorry. The second episode I want to mention, the latest Drop Dead Diva episode, was kind of a disappointment in contrast. Don't get me wrong, it actually started out pretty good; it just falls short, as so many of the series's episodes do, of escaping the morass of popular perception.
I have been watching Drop Dead Diva in the hopes that it will somehow become less shallow and live up to its glimmer of potential. The first few episodes were great, if you ignore the theological implications; an aspiring model is on the brink of success, dies ironically, has a temper tantrum at the pearly gates, and hits the "Return" key on the keyboard, which apparently returns her to life on Earth -- except she wakes up in the body of Jane Bingham, a brilliant, selfless, overweight lawyer. The series wonderfully addresses the fact that body chemistry plays a part in things like food cravings; Jane thinks that her willpower can whip this body into shape in no time, but finds that things she would have shunned in her previous life (like doughnuts) overwhelmingly irresistible.
In this episode, Jane's (new to her) mother is arrested at a shopping mall, and in the course of getting her out of jail and dealing with the charges, Jane has to deal with her outrageous behaviour. When drug and alcohol tests come back clean, the judge orders a psychiatric assessment, which turns up a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. A lot of what is portrayed can be part of an accurate picture of bipolar disorder. The mother is intent upon having fun, despite possible consequences; in fact, she behaves as if the consequences do not apply to her. She has a hair-trigger temper, and is extremely defensive about her condition. It turns out she was actually diagnosed fifteen years prior, but did not like how the medication made her feel. She describes looking in the mirror and not recognizing the person she saw there. The prosecuting attorney mentions that she has escitalopram (brand name Lexapro or Cipralex) in her blood, as detected by the aforementioned drug test, and claims that the medication is known to induce a manic episode in patients with bipolar disorder. It turns out the mother had asked for the antidepressant, presumably because she preferred to avoid her depressive states. The mother agrees to follow a course of treatment involving medication, outpatient therapy, and exercise, and is released into the custody of her ex-husband (Jane's dad, of course) who wants to get back together with her as long as she takes her medicine. The major focus immediately shifts to medication therapy. Later, presumably that evening, the mother is portrayed as being magically back to normal, even though medications used to treat bipolar and other mood disorders typically take weeks or months to take full effect. There is an unspoken implication that the mom is now cured.
I cannot even begin to address how bad and wrong and awful this is! The world needs to see realistic portrayals of mental illness and its treatment, not this stupid fairy tale.
Today, the score is Drop Dead Diva: 0, Doctor Who: >9000.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
ADHD and me: the perpetual klutz.
So I don't know if anyone else has this problem, but I'm guessing yes. As I type this, I keep checking my wounds to see if they actually need band-aids -- I recently parted company with a little bit of skin on the palm of my left hand, the back of my left forearm (I'm talented like that!) and my left knee (and even a tiny bit on my right knee... but not nearly so bad as the left). All three of these locations are grotesquely swollen and beginning to turn interesting colours like green and purple and blue. My head hurts something fierce, and my neck is sore enough I suspect I've inflicted a minor case of whiplash upon myself. What did I do?
I didn't fall off my bike/rollerblades/skateboard. I didn't get hit by a car (did that once, came away with FAR less damage than I have now!) or a freight train, although it sure feels like it. No, I fell off my feet. That's right. I was dropped off across the street by a friend. I looked both ways to ensure there was no traffic. Then I took about two steps, tripped on the open pavement, stumbled forward rather quickly, realised there was no recovering from this, fell, caught myself with my hands, and then kept falling forward with my arm underneath my body. I actually bounced. Too bad no one was videotaping, I could have been famous in an AFV falling down montage. Oh yeah, the swelling happened immediately, and the bruising... well this happened less than an hour ago and already I am colourful.
So how in the world does one trip on nothing? Someone please tell me, because this is not the first time I have done it! I sprained my ankle on two separate occasions doing the very same thing (the other two times, I stepped in holes), and I feel very proud of myself to have made all my appendages go in the right directions to avoid another sprain. I think. The jury is still out on my arm, but if you had a 300lb+ woman land on you and skid forward, you would be swollen and black and blue too, I imagine.
I always have a few bruises on my person. I walk into stuff, hit myself with things, trip over nothing, it seems like I am the clumsiest person on earth. My mom said she wants to wrap me up in cotton batting. I told her I would probably get rugburn from it or something.
At least since my diagnosis, I can blame it on something besides me being a colossal klutz -- I know that with ADHD comes a tendency to not notice certain things in my environment... such as that small bump in the pavement, or my proximity to the door I am about to yank open. Or the coffee table. Once I decided to walk to the back door at my grandpa's house (I was like... 11 at the time, so there is no excuse for this...) completely forgetting about the 3 stairs down to the landing. CRASH! I trip over the cracks in the sidewalk, too, even when they're spray painted with bright colours.
So, who wants to follow me around with a video camera to capture my epic spills on tape?
Cross-posted to ADDer World.
I didn't fall off my bike/rollerblades/skateboard. I didn't get hit by a car (did that once, came away with FAR less damage than I have now!) or a freight train, although it sure feels like it. No, I fell off my feet. That's right. I was dropped off across the street by a friend. I looked both ways to ensure there was no traffic. Then I took about two steps, tripped on the open pavement, stumbled forward rather quickly, realised there was no recovering from this, fell, caught myself with my hands, and then kept falling forward with my arm underneath my body. I actually bounced. Too bad no one was videotaping, I could have been famous in an AFV falling down montage. Oh yeah, the swelling happened immediately, and the bruising... well this happened less than an hour ago and already I am colourful.
So how in the world does one trip on nothing? Someone please tell me, because this is not the first time I have done it! I sprained my ankle on two separate occasions doing the very same thing (the other two times, I stepped in holes), and I feel very proud of myself to have made all my appendages go in the right directions to avoid another sprain. I think. The jury is still out on my arm, but if you had a 300lb+ woman land on you and skid forward, you would be swollen and black and blue too, I imagine.
I always have a few bruises on my person. I walk into stuff, hit myself with things, trip over nothing, it seems like I am the clumsiest person on earth. My mom said she wants to wrap me up in cotton batting. I told her I would probably get rugburn from it or something.
At least since my diagnosis, I can blame it on something besides me being a colossal klutz -- I know that with ADHD comes a tendency to not notice certain things in my environment... such as that small bump in the pavement, or my proximity to the door I am about to yank open. Or the coffee table. Once I decided to walk to the back door at my grandpa's house (I was like... 11 at the time, so there is no excuse for this...) completely forgetting about the 3 stairs down to the landing. CRASH! I trip over the cracks in the sidewalk, too, even when they're spray painted with bright colours.
So, who wants to follow me around with a video camera to capture my epic spills on tape?
Cross-posted to ADDer World.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Reflection on the close of the semester
So for the first time in my life, I finished an entire academic semester with full academic supports. I have my digital voice recorder with indexing to help me with my notes in class, I have permission to take notes on my laptop, I have text-to-speech software to help me stay focused while reading, and I have software to help me with the process of planning and organizing things. I have a good quality headset to use with my speech recognition software when writing papers. I have access to an academic strategist and a counselor. I have exam accommodations which allow me to write my exams in isolation on a computer, using my text-to-speech software to keep me on task. I have access to a note-taker if I need one.
Yesterday afternoon, for the first time in my life, I handed in the last of my assignments for the semester on the last day of the term. I did not miss any assignments and I did not Have to get an extension past when the term was over. Sure, one of them was overdue, but it's finished and I turned it in, which means I don't have to take an automatic fail in a class where I would otherwise be getting at least a B.
I was so happy yesterday!
After all that effort, I actually managed to successfully complete a semester of college. Amazing.
Today, I feel lost and deflated. No reason, I just do. I'm reminded of something in the book "Driven to Distraction" by Edward M. Hallowell, M.D. and John J. Ratey, M.D.
The good news is I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow (or maybe friday... I'd better phone and find out!) and I can maybe talk about all this. I just need to remember to railroad the session!
Hallowell and Ratey had things to say about how to deal with this "post success letdown," too:
Speaking of, does anyone, anyone know of a doctor or a psychiatrist in Edmonton who has experience dealing with ADHD in adults? Anyone? I really want to see if medication will help me, but I don't know where to go, and I want to make sure whoever I'm dealing with knows what he or she is doing.
Quotations taken from "Driven to Distraction" by Edward M. Hallowell, M.D. and John J. Ratey, M.D. Published 1995 by Touchstone in New York, NY. Book can be found for purchase at Chapters.ca or Amazon.com; I really recommend it to anyone who is learning how to cope with ADHD, either themselves or in a family member.
Yesterday afternoon, for the first time in my life, I handed in the last of my assignments for the semester on the last day of the term. I did not miss any assignments and I did not Have to get an extension past when the term was over. Sure, one of them was overdue, but it's finished and I turned it in, which means I don't have to take an automatic fail in a class where I would otherwise be getting at least a B.
I was so happy yesterday!
After all that effort, I actually managed to successfully complete a semester of college. Amazing.
Today, I feel lost and deflated. No reason, I just do. I'm reminded of something in the book "Driven to Distraction" by Edward M. Hallowell, M.D. and John J. Ratey, M.D.
Expect depression after success. People with ADD commonly complain of feeling depressed, paradoxically, after a big success. This is because the high stimulus of the chase or the challenge or the preparation is over. The deed is done. Win or lose, the adult with ADD misses the conflict, the high stimulus, and feels depressed." (Hallowell and Ratey, p. 251)On the one hand, this sounds absolutely crazy, but on the other it makes total sense. I tend to miss the chaos and the business of moving from one paper to another, group projects, deadlines, scrambling to make it to class on time, and all that good stuff. It's like the high-energy borderline gong show that is the opening night of a theatrical production. Now that I'm finished (at least until Monday), it's almost like my brain doesn't know what to do with itself if it's not juggling the 50 million tasks I give it on a normal basis.
The good news is I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow (or maybe friday... I'd better phone and find out!) and I can maybe talk about all this. I just need to remember to railroad the session!
Hallowell and Ratey had things to say about how to deal with this "post success letdown," too:
Try to let a successful moment last and be remembered and become sustaining over time. You'll have to train yourself to do this because you'll naturally tend to forget your successes as you brood over your shortcomings or pessimistically anticipate the worst. (Hallowell and Ratey, p. 252)Looks like maybe I have a new skill to practice, I guess I'll just add it to the rest! Blah. Must. Not. Get. Overwhelmed.
Speaking of, does anyone, anyone know of a doctor or a psychiatrist in Edmonton who has experience dealing with ADHD in adults? Anyone? I really want to see if medication will help me, but I don't know where to go, and I want to make sure whoever I'm dealing with knows what he or she is doing.
Quotations taken from "Driven to Distraction" by Edward M. Hallowell, M.D. and John J. Ratey, M.D. Published 1995 by Touchstone in New York, NY. Book can be found for purchase at Chapters.ca or Amazon.com; I really recommend it to anyone who is learning how to cope with ADHD, either themselves or in a family member.
Monday, November 03, 2008
I am not a failure.
A lifetime
of missed instructions
forgotten missions
false starts and lost endings
of chaos and defeat
of missed appointments
forgotten reminders
false friends and lost memories
of lather, rinse, repeat
of missed assignments
forgotten deadlines
false impressions and lost marks
of squirming in my seat
"If only you'd apply yourself,"
they tell me, and
"You just need to make yourself do it, really."
"You've got so much potential, if only you were more motivated!"
All they see is how bright I am
how far I can go
no one sees how hard I struggle
I'm not a disaster on purpose --
I want to succeed.
And now
finally
someone hears me
finally
a name and a reason for the chaos and the tears
finally
stories of other people
whose stories sound like my own
finally
maybe now I can learn how to live
rather than merely struggling to exist
finally
I know I have ADHD
This explains everything.
of missed instructions
forgotten missions
false starts and lost endings
of chaos and defeat
of missed appointments
forgotten reminders
false friends and lost memories
of lather, rinse, repeat
of missed assignments
forgotten deadlines
false impressions and lost marks
of squirming in my seat
"If only you'd apply yourself,"
they tell me, and
"You just need to make yourself do it, really."
"You've got so much potential, if only you were more motivated!"
All they see is how bright I am
how far I can go
no one sees how hard I struggle
I'm not a disaster on purpose --
I want to succeed.
And now
finally
someone hears me
finally
a name and a reason for the chaos and the tears
finally
stories of other people
whose stories sound like my own
finally
maybe now I can learn how to live
rather than merely struggling to exist
finally
I know I have ADHD
This explains everything.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Anger and the beast within
I am so unbelievably angry right now, and I misdirected it, which makes me more angry.
I hate being angry like this. It feels like I'm going to explode and then just scream and scream and scream... and then it turns into a sick feeling in my stomach and a crushing feeling in my chest, like a panic attack, only i know it's anger, not panic.
It makes me want to tear my skin off.
I hate being angry like this. It feels like I'm going to explode and then just scream and scream and scream... and then it turns into a sick feeling in my stomach and a crushing feeling in my chest, like a panic attack, only i know it's anger, not panic.
It makes me want to tear my skin off.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Summer Blues
The end of June has always, in some part of my mind, equated to the end of everything. It's probably because it was the end of the school year for thirteen years. By the end of June everything was over; Guiding, softball, and school. The Owlsnest closed. Most of my regular babysitting jobs were on hiatus for the summer. My Grandpa died in June. Fifteen years later and I still miss him horribly. The high point of my summer was always going down to visit him for a few weeks. He and I were the early risers. We would spend that quiet first part of the day together, opening the blinds, watering the plants, talking quietly over cereal, and just enjoying each other's company. It was a magical time, it was our time. Dawn feels empty without him, especially in the summer.
The end of June used to mark a few weeks of swimming lessons and playing outside with the neighbours, of being put to work on various projects in the house, but always there was vacation at Grandpa's to anticipate. After he died, there was no longer that mid-point to look forward to. It was just endless summer, helping Dad build a new fence, painting things, cleaning things, organizing things, scraping up enough money to go to a Guide camp now and then, swim lessons and bike rides, and the occasional vacation. But although school years have come and gone, and the weather has become hot and the days long, that carefree thing that was summer has not returned. I miss it.
The end of June used to mark a few weeks of swimming lessons and playing outside with the neighbours, of being put to work on various projects in the house, but always there was vacation at Grandpa's to anticipate. After he died, there was no longer that mid-point to look forward to. It was just endless summer, helping Dad build a new fence, painting things, cleaning things, organizing things, scraping up enough money to go to a Guide camp now and then, swim lessons and bike rides, and the occasional vacation. But although school years have come and gone, and the weather has become hot and the days long, that carefree thing that was summer has not returned. I miss it.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
http://ca.360.yahoo.com/panastwins
A life,
eager to find this world,
sprung from the womb precipitously
A life,
struggling for every breath, every heartbeat
each moment simultaneously a blessing and a prayer
A life,
over almost before it had begun;
his days were numbered 123.
A life,
filled with tubes and needles
surgeries and procedures
A life,
confined to hospitals, to incubators
to ambulances, to pods
A life,
inextricably tied and intertwined
with that of another soul, his twin, his brother
A life,
released, unfettered
never to experience the woes of maturity
A life,
truncated, denied the joys
and the sorrows of humanity
A life,
so briefly touching mine
so profoundly echoing in my heart.
Farewell, Andrew.
eager to find this world,
sprung from the womb precipitously
A life,
struggling for every breath, every heartbeat
each moment simultaneously a blessing and a prayer
A life,
over almost before it had begun;
his days were numbered 123.
A life,
filled with tubes and needles
surgeries and procedures
A life,
confined to hospitals, to incubators
to ambulances, to pods
A life,
inextricably tied and intertwined
with that of another soul, his twin, his brother
A life,
released, unfettered
never to experience the woes of maturity
A life,
truncated, denied the joys
and the sorrows of humanity
A life,
so briefly touching mine
so profoundly echoing in my heart.
Farewell, Andrew.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Existential depression
It's a plague, it saps my strength, my will. There is no cure, no balm, no relief, only overwhelming despair, and guilt for that despair.
http://gtadults.blogspot.com/2006/05/existential-depression.html
http://gtadults.blogspot.com/2006/05/existential-depression.html
Monday, February 12, 2007
A poem not by me.
I breathe in
Not wanting to breathe out
Not wanting to continue
In this cycle
If I can hold this breath
One second longer
Than the pain
Won’t ache as much
And time will have stopped
For a second
And for that one second
It will be as if I had not existed
Not taken up space
Not ruined a perfect moment
Not been myself
But my body defies my wishes
For I can only hold it so long
Before, against all desire,
I live, regardless of the pain.
~bluepixie
Not wanting to breathe out
Not wanting to continue
In this cycle
If I can hold this breath
One second longer
Than the pain
Won’t ache as much
And time will have stopped
For a second
And for that one second
It will be as if I had not existed
Not taken up space
Not ruined a perfect moment
Not been myself
But my body defies my wishes
For I can only hold it so long
Before, against all desire,
I live, regardless of the pain.
~bluepixie
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Useless
i'm worthless.
i can't function within normal society.
i'm going to lose my job again because of attendance issues.
i'll never have a career, a house, a family.
i am incapable of achieving anything worthwhile.
maybe i should just quit.
i can't have perfect attendance for two months. i just can't. i almost always oversleep, i frequently miss my bus. i am frequently 5-15 minutes late. no matter how hard i try, no matter what i do, i continue to fail at life. i'm doomed
i can't function within normal society.
i'm going to lose my job again because of attendance issues.
i'll never have a career, a house, a family.
i am incapable of achieving anything worthwhile.
maybe i should just quit.
i can't have perfect attendance for two months. i just can't. i almost always oversleep, i frequently miss my bus. i am frequently 5-15 minutes late. no matter how hard i try, no matter what i do, i continue to fail at life. i'm doomed
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
It continues.
panic attack!
i'm going to lose my job if i don't pull it together. but that prospect makes me fall apart more.
panic attack!
i have to move. i hate the finality of it, but i will not survive here much longer.
panic attack!
winter rears its ugly head. i cannot remember winter's beginning, nor can i imagine winter's end.
panic attack!
i need to get out of here, but there is nowhere to go. how can one hide from oneself?
panic attack!
i need out. there is no way out. i am trapped in a snare that i wove myself. i forget how to unravel it. i lack the strength to break free.
panic attack!
was there ever a difference between sleeping and weeping?
i'm going to lose my job if i don't pull it together. but that prospect makes me fall apart more.
panic attack!
i have to move. i hate the finality of it, but i will not survive here much longer.
panic attack!
winter rears its ugly head. i cannot remember winter's beginning, nor can i imagine winter's end.
panic attack!
i need to get out of here, but there is nowhere to go. how can one hide from oneself?
panic attack!
i need out. there is no way out. i am trapped in a snare that i wove myself. i forget how to unravel it. i lack the strength to break free.
panic attack!
was there ever a difference between sleeping and weeping?
Friday, October 27, 2006
Self-Sabotage...
So I didn't sleep last night, I was too busy fretting over work/distracting myself in the chat room. I hate nights like that...
Now I'm sitting at work, 1.5 hours into a 10-hour shift. I am finally starting to feel tired, and am horking back the coffee to stay awake. I seriously hope I can make it to the end of the day.
Why do I keep doing this to myself? I don't understand why I keep acting like I have some drive to fail. I want to succeed. I want to keep my job. I want to live my life and be okay, and I keep doing dumb stuff like stay up all night to undermine all the hard work I've been doing.
I hate myself so much right now, because I am miserable and I have no one to blame but myself. I am my own worst enemy.
Now I'm sitting at work, 1.5 hours into a 10-hour shift. I am finally starting to feel tired, and am horking back the coffee to stay awake. I seriously hope I can make it to the end of the day.
Why do I keep doing this to myself? I don't understand why I keep acting like I have some drive to fail. I want to succeed. I want to keep my job. I want to live my life and be okay, and I keep doing dumb stuff like stay up all night to undermine all the hard work I've been doing.
I hate myself so much right now, because I am miserable and I have no one to blame but myself. I am my own worst enemy.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
The End... I wish!
I can't handle my life right now. It has become painfully clear to me that I am not wanted or needed anywhere. I am obivously not a real person, and I do not deserve any privacy, digity, or respect in my own house. Scratch that, I don't have a home. I'm just a squatter in my brother and his girlfriend's house. I've been utterly replaced. I wish I could just pack up and leave, but I'm too broken to function. I have nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I have been utterly betrayed by everyone I've been holding on for. I think I need to leave Edmonton. But go where? The world is a big, lonely thing, with no place in it for me.The people who care don't deserve to have to deal with my insanity and instability. What right do I have to subject them to it? And yet, this nagging, infernal sense of duty will not let me be. So I'll gather my shell of public stability and continue pretending to be okay.
Maybe if I was more irresposnible with my money, or if I was completely defying the morals my parents tried to pass on to me, or if I was a fucking criminal, they would accept me for what I am and let me have the space and understanding that I need in order to heal.
Maybe if I was more irresposnible with my money, or if I was completely defying the morals my parents tried to pass on to me, or if I was a fucking criminal, they would accept me for what I am and let me have the space and understanding that I need in order to heal.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Useless
I had to drop out of school. I've been late for work 3 out of 5 days this week. I was $20 short on my rent. I'm going to be penalized by my landlords for not doing any yardwork this month. I'm doing a crappy job keeping my blog updated. My boss pretty much told me to go to hell (in not so many words) today when I asked him nicely about adjusting my schedule so that I can actually go to my one remaining class next week.
I try so hard and I get nowhere. I put in so much effort but I get no results. I just try and try and I still look like a total slacker and a failure.
My life has not changed in 5 years. Why bother trying anymore?
I try so hard and I get nowhere. I put in so much effort but I get no results. I just try and try and I still look like a total slacker and a failure.
My life has not changed in 5 years. Why bother trying anymore?
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Wow.
One person in the world cares if I update my blog. Good to know.
Nothing to update really. Taking my meds erratically, sleeping erratically, eating erratically, going to work erratically. Still alive and occasionally regretting it.
Kals the invisible.
Nothing to update really. Taking my meds erratically, sleeping erratically, eating erratically, going to work erratically. Still alive and occasionally regretting it.
Kals the invisible.
Friday, September 01, 2006
um
I thought I should post a new post to prove I'm still alive. Here I am.
I'm going back to school, yay me. Too bad I think i'm dying of endocarditis. Not really, but it did cross my mind earlier this week, and apparantly it crossed my doctor's mind too, cause i had to have blood cultures done. Ew, that was a lot of blood they took.
My niece is coming to town, I get to meet her at last.
uih what else... nothing really. a week of no work, thanks to a fever that no one can explain...
I'm going back to school, yay me. Too bad I think i'm dying of endocarditis. Not really, but it did cross my mind earlier this week, and apparantly it crossed my doctor's mind too, cause i had to have blood cultures done. Ew, that was a lot of blood they took.
My niece is coming to town, I get to meet her at last.
uih what else... nothing really. a week of no work, thanks to a fever that no one can explain...
Friday, August 18, 2006
Walking for life
On Sunday, September 24th, I am participating in the Cheerios Heart&Stroke Walk for Heart. Our goal is to raise over $3.2 million in support of heart disease and stroke research and health education programs. The reason? Heart disease and stroke remains the leading cause of death in Canada.
Millions of Canadians – family, friends and colleagues - may develop some form of heart disease and stroke throughout their lives. By helping The Heart and Stroke Foundation fund the best research possible, we can find the answers that will make a difference to their future and yours.
You can help me raise funds for this important cause and help the Heart and Stroke Foundation reach their goal of $3.2 million for life-saving research. To sponsor me online, just click this link to access my secure fundraising page.
As many of you know, I have a congenital heart condition, a bicuspid aortic valve. While this condition does not currently have much effect on my day-to-day life, I will eventually require open-heart valve replacement surgery. So I have a special reason to want to support this organization.
If you are interested in participating in the walk, please visit this site.
Millions of Canadians – family, friends and colleagues - may develop some form of heart disease and stroke throughout their lives. By helping The Heart and Stroke Foundation fund the best research possible, we can find the answers that will make a difference to their future and yours.
You can help me raise funds for this important cause and help the Heart and Stroke Foundation reach their goal of $3.2 million for life-saving research. To sponsor me online, just click this link to access my secure fundraising page.
As many of you know, I have a congenital heart condition, a bicuspid aortic valve. While this condition does not currently have much effect on my day-to-day life, I will eventually require open-heart valve replacement surgery. So I have a special reason to want to support this organization.
If you are interested in participating in the walk, please visit this site.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Craptastic
So my brother did something colassally stupid and I can't talk about it here because a: he hasn't talked to my parents yet and I want to give them a chance to hear it from him first. b: he hasn't told my other brother about the first colassally stupid thing he did that was related to this, and I want him to hear it from him, not me. c: it really is a horrible thing and I don't really want to share it with people outside my family.
But he hurt me a lot, and has left me feeling unsafe in my own home. I don't want to move, I hate moving. But I think I have to. Too many panic attacks over little stuff.
He and I have the same work schedule now, which means that I can just ride to and from work with him once my team moves down to the new site. Yay for that. I can then spend less than half what I have been on transit and give him the difference for gas money. That only works if I don't move though.
Ran into a friend of mine on my lunch break yesterday... and his girlfriend. I really like him, so the whole girlfriend part sucks. But we had a pleasant lunch.
For those who don't know (why am I writing as if more than 3 people ever read this? I dunno, wishful thinking, I guess), I switched from the 3-midnight shift to the 7:30am-4:30pm shift as of monday. I had one day off in between to adjust. That's probably why I can't sleep properly yet, and why I feel like crap physically. It feels bizarre to be out on my lunch break and have the sun overhead, and it feels strange to have the sun on my left instead of on my right while waiting for the bus in the morning, especially when my body is telling me it's the middle of the night. I swear I have jetlag, only I got ripped off because I never went anywhere.
Went to the doctor today (called in sick, then slept late and missed my doc altogether and had to see a generic clinic doctor) and got a refill on my celexa, also got it bumped up to 20mg from 10. I also whined about my sinuses and about how my ears won't pop when I go down the elevator from the 29th floor at work, and he gave me some free flonaze. YAY! I used to use that and it worked great so I'm glad I've got it back.
When I got my new glasses, the magnetic clipon sunglasses had a flaw so they ordered a new one under warranty for me. I just went down to pick up the replacement and discovered someone from group works there now. We did some catching up (totally against the rules) and I went on my way. I tried to put the clip on my glasses and discoverred it just doesn't fit, so I went back. Turns out they put the magnet in upside down so it was positive to positive. So they gave me my old clip back and sent away for another one.
Ok I think i'm done having insomnia now, I'd best go back to bed so i can get up for antoher day of fun-filled tech support.
But he hurt me a lot, and has left me feeling unsafe in my own home. I don't want to move, I hate moving. But I think I have to. Too many panic attacks over little stuff.
He and I have the same work schedule now, which means that I can just ride to and from work with him once my team moves down to the new site. Yay for that. I can then spend less than half what I have been on transit and give him the difference for gas money. That only works if I don't move though.
Ran into a friend of mine on my lunch break yesterday... and his girlfriend. I really like him, so the whole girlfriend part sucks. But we had a pleasant lunch.
For those who don't know (why am I writing as if more than 3 people ever read this? I dunno, wishful thinking, I guess), I switched from the 3-midnight shift to the 7:30am-4:30pm shift as of monday. I had one day off in between to adjust. That's probably why I can't sleep properly yet, and why I feel like crap physically. It feels bizarre to be out on my lunch break and have the sun overhead, and it feels strange to have the sun on my left instead of on my right while waiting for the bus in the morning, especially when my body is telling me it's the middle of the night. I swear I have jetlag, only I got ripped off because I never went anywhere.
Went to the doctor today (called in sick, then slept late and missed my doc altogether and had to see a generic clinic doctor) and got a refill on my celexa, also got it bumped up to 20mg from 10. I also whined about my sinuses and about how my ears won't pop when I go down the elevator from the 29th floor at work, and he gave me some free flonaze. YAY! I used to use that and it worked great so I'm glad I've got it back.
When I got my new glasses, the magnetic clipon sunglasses had a flaw so they ordered a new one under warranty for me. I just went down to pick up the replacement and discovered someone from group works there now. We did some catching up (totally against the rules) and I went on my way. I tried to put the clip on my glasses and discoverred it just doesn't fit, so I went back. Turns out they put the magnet in upside down so it was positive to positive. So they gave me my old clip back and sent away for another one.
Ok I think i'm done having insomnia now, I'd best go back to bed so i can get up for antoher day of fun-filled tech support.
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