Finding my Happy

Yesterday  I was 'msn'ing' with an old friend. She knows D very well, in fact I know her through him & she also is beginning to know me very well as she has decided to embark on the adventure that one undertakes when becoming my follower on twitter.  She thus has pretty good insight on what's happening in my life, because I'm an open book & she knows the other chapter of my story quite well ;)

She said, very wisely, that my tweets have begun to indicate a fair amount of despair & depression. And that despite the fact that I frequently vent about relationship drama between me & my love, the darkness is most likely coming from the void that I feel OUTSIDE of my relationship.

It's true.  I try to stay positive, hopeful, optimistic, & happy & all that jazz but there's a monster lurking too close to the surface for my comfort.  And try as he might, D can not do anything about it.  This fact alone brings out a not -so-nice aspect of our relationship... him trying, me rejecting him & him then being cold & aggressive because... well, basically I'm being a bitch too.

As a veteran of therapy, both group & individual, I can tell the signs of depression.  I see that I'm in trouble.  I see that I need help.  I see that lack of luster in myself, my reluctance to get out of bed in the mornings is getting stronger... but I just am kinda of the mind set that I want to try & use my self-taught skills (and call on some of the skills that I've learned in Dialectical Behaviour Therapy - if you're interested in hearing more about this please leave a comment & I will blog about it next!) in conjunction with my newly found twitter support system rather than running back to therapy, or worse still, medication.

What my wise friend suggested was that I make a list. A list of things OUTSIDE my relationship that make me jump for joy. Things that tickle my thoughts.  Things that stimulate my senses. 
I have been happy before, I do experience happiness still & thus, there must be circumstances, things, people, situations, etc. that still make me happy.

So here,  blogles & tweeties, are (some of) my happys!

(I'm gonna be random, start with small things and maybe things that people will find strange... but it's all part of the process! I need to once more learn to take joy in the little pleasures of life!)

~ my cats (duh)
~ Ani Difranco (duh - I said I was starting with the easy things!)
~ composing & recording music.   (need to find a good software for this! SUGGESTIONS? I've used sequel 2, cakewalk & fruityloops, but never understood what I was doing.. need something user friendly! read:dummy-fied) 
~ guitar (need to become more consistent with playing so I don't have to go through the pain of re-developing calluses every single time! what a turn off!) 
~ photography & digitally editing photos
~ reading with tea & kush at Roach-a-rama in Kensington Market (requires me to leave the house & take the transit to go downtown... not that likely at the moment... but still a happy)
~ yoga (need to find some bum-knee friendly yoga - suggestions anyone??)
~ swimming (need to find a public pool nearby for swimming 3x/ week)
~ shopping for fruits & veggies & spices & nuts (productive to my diet too!)
~ shopping in general (though this can get dangerous!)
~ cooking & baking
~ knitting
~ PAINTING (really MISS this one!)
~ mani/pedi
~ bath & wine time (not sure I can swing this in my current apartment... our bathtub SUCKS)
~ journalling/blogging :)

And I think that's all for now! That's actually a pretty good list, if I don't say so myself (which I do!) All of the things on there are things that I enjoyed doing pre-D and kinda stopped doing due to various factors in my current situation... none of which are written in stone, and all of which I can change.
So now, the task at hand is to DO SOMETHING and actually make this list go to good use.  That's the hardest part of it all, 'cuz if you've followed my blog at all, you'll know I"m great at making lists & plans & not so great at the actual execution of things. But here's another shot...

To my Wise friend (one in specific but also, to all my wise friends who are reading!)  please remember, we need to kick each others asses into gear, for who else is in a better position to push you to succeed in finding your happy but your friends?  <3

Empty Womb on a Wordless Wednesday

I had a rough night last night.
An unexpected pregnancy announcement on facebook had me reeling in emotion from 2:39am onwards. Instead of wallowing in a self-pitying post though, I'll make use of Wordless Wednesday and share some images that had me pissing my pants laughing yesterday.

And a couple of them are pretty applicable to my current state of the Infertility Blues.

I think I'm gonna make an appointment today to have my Cunt examined......

And I'll prolly take my trusty friend with me..... 

A girl who's T.T.C. can never get enough of her Sperman after all!

But we have to make sure first that there isn't a...

And maybe after my appointment we'll go here for some lunch....

Or maybe here...

 I feel like having...

\I wonder if I'd be more fertile if I had a...

And I know while I'm at the doctor I should make sure I don't have any fresh STD's... 

I HAVE to get one of these for my kids (if & when I have them that is!!)

And if I never do have any kids then the rest of my life will be a....

And I'll blow you all to hell with my....

And... JUST CUZ THEY ARE HILARIOUS...

um.... WHAAAAAT???!?!

 *phew* it's a good thing that I saw that last sign, 'cuz I really feel like dying right now... 

But since it's strictly forbidden I guess I'll continue on with my day. 

Hope I made ya piss your pants ....er.... giggle :p

#beingabigfathugewhalesucks

I'm in a dark hole that I am digging further and further into.
Went for a hike on Saturday, and despite many AMAZING photos, and good company, the one thing that is sticking in my brain are the (earth-shattering-reality-bringing) images of me on the video that D took.
I'm a ginormous fat blob.
I can't believe I let myself get like this.
I weeble.  I wobble. 
And I was fucking sore yesterday.  After a WALK. 
And I'm totally stuck in a job that perpetuates my lifestyle of sitting at home, eating, and being depressed.  And not having enough time for myself - despite a clear need.

And...
I'm officially too depressed at the moment to be insightful. ...

to be continued...... 


ps.  I posted this to reach out to anyone who may feel like this at times too. You're never alone. And neither am I. Sorry for the uber depressing nature, but it happens to all of us from time to time.

F*^#&%$ Positivity!

It's not been easy, but I'm doing it.... I'm sunny.  I'm GD optimistic and cheerful.  Dammit.

Here comes another slightly garbled post though - I'm so sorry! I'll take the decline in comments as a sign that y'all would prefer my normal writing style to return.  I'll send that memo up to my (foggy) brain asap.

Sess has still not (independently) eaten, though I have forced about 4 syringes of wet food and water, and at least 12 zillion of water alone into her... she growls with the food, so I don't do too much.  The maple syrup worked a bit though, I think I noticed the most change in her after starting that regiment. D and I went to the movies today to see Alice in Wonderland (slightly disappointing, not worth a review post) and when we got back she came to drink outta the tub! I tweeted it here.

This makes me (disproportionately?) happy

I am still not sleeping well, though I have taken to falling FAST asleep at around 4 or 5am in the last few nights, meaning that I'm getting a good 3- 4 hours of real sleep, which is an improvement from NONE.   The bad Baycrest dreams are getting shorter.  Appreciated.  Gone would be better.   But I'm being patient.   And trying to stay off the sleeping pills.  I don't wanna get hooked.  Finding a fuzzy comfy fog in a little blue pill every night seems just a wee bit too tempting now-a-days. 

And this morning I woke up with a crick in my neck - I look like a friggin' moron, turning my whole body to look around.

And, other than that, I'm pretty numb.  I'm immersing myself in work as much as possible (having D here instead of out doing the jobs is kind of distracting, but as of the 15th he'll be out doing sales calls, much better for growing our little company.  In my haste to anticipate having my days to myself again once Spring had sprung I forgot that hiring a crew meant that he did not have to work sun up to sun down if he didn't want to.  Right now we only have one vehicle, so he has to stay home with me all day 'till the crew returns.  As of the 15th we'll have two again.  Thank god, or I'd probably... I won't finish that sentence.)

I listened to my uncles songs yesterday and had a good cry... every so often I look up in the sky and look out for birds(wondering why?)...  I'm thinking of uploading some of his music for you all to hear - is that something that would appeal to y'all?  It's not in English but the melodies are gorgeous.  I'm not 100% how to do that without putting 'em on YouTube, or in my sidebar like my songs are, so any tips would be GREATLY appreciated! And I'm gonna get back on the Juri and the Bears Blog.   I think it could be a great support to adults and children alike, who are going through a terminal illness.

And my plans for today? I've got more company organization work to do, customer calling to do...


and more F*ing positivity to radiate.  <3

Mumbo, Jumbo & Sad

This post may seem sporadic and un-connected - but that's exactly my state of mind, so it's fitting.

The last week has been a whirlwind, I'm not going to re-cap cuz it's too painful.

If ya'll really wanna know what happened, you can read my last post, or read through my tweets to get a better sense of stuff.

For now, I'm just gonna write. Like you are my diary. 

It's been so weird being at my Mom & Dad's house for so many hours straight in the last few days for Shivah.  I haven't spent that much time there in years. It was the first time that I have been able to do it though, without fleeing home after an hour or two.  I usually get very uncomfortable, so I'm glad that didn't happen this time.

I'm already judging this post - thinking I'm leaving things out, not considering my words enough, not conveying  the 'right' message. But I'm gonna ignore those feelings.

I feel so fragile right now - like any more rocking of my boat will cause me to capsize. And possibly drown.  If not drown, than at least lose all my worldly possessions (my mind) in this wicked and wild sea of life.

I have so much admiration towards my parents' friends.  They have been so supportive. This is supposed to be a good thing, but it has made the sparse network of 'real life' friends that I travel in seem even more useless than it did before. This rocks my boat.

My Sessie cat is not feeling well.  She hasn't moved almost at all in 2 days, and won't eat, and I'm having to force feed water to her to keep her hydrated. And one of D's toxic toads got out, so I don't know if she came into contact with it. He found it in the dogs food dish.
This rattles and rocks my boat.

I'm exhausted but I can't sleep without seeing and hearing my uncles last breath. Which means I can't sleep, even when I'm drugged (like last night, when I'd 'wake' from a 1/2 asleep state with odd thoughts in my brain...for example... if I forget the name of the diagnosis they gave my Dad in the hospital, I won't be able to help him if he feels sick again)

This VEHEMENTLY SHAKES my boat.

I'm thinking about the fact that when my parents die, if my network of 'real life' friends is as sparse and frivolous as it is right now I will undoubtedly capsize and sink to the bottom of the sea.

I'm thinking about how people keep telling me that my mother will undoubtedly crash after Shivah is over because she will have such an immense and seemingly unfulfillable void in her heart - and how they look at me like I'm supposed to know what to do is COMPLETELY freaking me out too.

This past week of trying to comfort her, act as her equal in terms of 'hostessing' the shivah house (despite the fact that one is really not supposed to do that in terms of Jewish tradition, but my Mom would not have it any other way) has all but made me bedridden.  I'm not sure how I'm still standing.  My legs and back are throbbing, almost constantly, but I'm so numb.  I can't even cry anymore. 

I keep thinking that I'm heartless because I only cried the day it happened, and the next day at the funeral.  It's like after the funeral I just turned it off somehow and I've been playing the happy hostess since.  But I'm exhausted.  And so not happy.

Ugh. This is enough for tonight.  I can't believe I'm posting something so un-planned, un-thought out, un-edited.

Take it or leave it people, it's all I got right now.

Delayed

** I'm posting this on Monday, April 5th, but I wrote it originally on Saturday, April 3rd.  I wanted to post it because it was an important post to me, and I didn't want to omit it. **

Yesterday was one of those days that one prays to never have.

It's nearing the end for my uncle, which is bittersweet as I know he will find relief in passing, but am worried about how my Mom will take it - she's been there for 36 hours straight now.

My Dad came to pick me up yesterday in the morning to go and be with her for the day at the hospital. I was super anxious getting ready and waiting for him to come.  I do not deal well at all with watching someone I care about in the state that my uncle is in. But I knew I needed to be there for my Mom, despite any feelings I had about the situation.

But when I saw my Dad as he drove up, something was not right.
He's been having fainting spells for about a year - unexplained despite a zillion tests and doctor's appointments.  It worries me incredibly - I am super close to my Dad.

He drove off from the building, but I made him pull over as soon as we got to the road because I could see in his face that he wasn't feeling well.

I drove the rest of the way to Baycrest, and he kind of got some of his colour back.

When we got to Baycrest, the situation was dismal.  My uncle is gasping with every breath he takes, and is so drugged up that he will never speak to us again.  My Mom, like a rock, stays strong through all this - but my Dad, despite his strength and determination to be a rock like my Mom, is more severely affected.

My Dad started getting all sweaty again, while we were sitting by my uncles bed.  He confessed to me that his arm/fingers and jaw were tingling.  I knew something bad was coming.  My mom asked him to get some paperwork regarding the funeral that's being planned out of his briefcase.  He stood up, and his eyes rolled back in his head.  My Mom and I both caught him before he hit the ground.  He's a heavy man.  I couldn't support him, so I slid down to the ground with him and held him from behind.
We got him seated in a chair and his eyes started rolling back in his head again.
Someone called the nurse, and 911.

A stupid bitch of a nurse came in and started monitoring his pulse, and took his blood pressure, all whilst mouthing to me, over my parent's heads, that my father had just had a heart attack.   They gave him a spray of nitro (which the ER doctor was appalled by - nitro should never be administered if there is a history of fainting with no heart symptons/blood pressure symptoms.  It lowered my Dad's already low blood pressure).  It seemed like forever until the paramedics came.

By the time they came, my Dad was feeling better.  This is what has happened in the past when he's fainted.  This time I put my foot down - he was not talking us out of going to the hospital with the ambulance.  Normally he will not go.  But as his G.P. did not seem to have a clue as to why this was happening, I was not about to let him off that easy.

So off we went to the hospital, me making dumb jokes with the paramedic & my Dad to try and get him to smile some.   These last 9 months with my Mom and uncle have taken an enormous toll on my normally jovial, hilarious Daddy.  I managed to get a few smiles out of him.

We waited about 3 hours at emergency, and when we finally saw a doctor I felt that the wait was worth it.  He finally gave my dad a diagnosis to chew on - Vasovagal syncope. It's not life threatening, and the triggers are very much like an anxiety attack trigger.  I googled it last night when I got home, and it fits his symptoms to a 't'.  I'm just wondering why it took a year to diagnose something which the ER doctor said was fairly common. 

All in all, spending the day at the emergancy with my Dad was probably far less traumatic for me than spending the day watching my uncle die.  I really truly don't understand how my mom can stomach it for such extended periods of time. Especially for a woman with MS.  I don't know how she does it.

And today?  Today is a new day, have to pick up my Dad (he left his car at Baycrest yesterday) and go down to spend some time there with my Mom. 

All the outpouring of support and love from my Tweeties is amazing.  Despite my brief pity party last night (about how Twitter is not the same as having friends in real life) you all keep me going. I think part of my problem last night is that there are a few of you who I really would have loved to have close to me right now, you are such great supports, and such fabulous people.  Being connected through cyberspace doesn't seem like enough for me at the moment.  But I'll take all I can get! <3

** Just as I finished writing this, my Mom called my cell to tell me to hurry and pick up my Dad and get down there. I didn't  save it, but my laptop is miraculous and when I resumed windows (had left laptop unplugged for the whole time so it died), here was the post. I thought it fortuitous, and decided to post it now. **

BAHHHHH!!!

I don't know what's wrong with me.
I was so calm,
so level headed, so EFFECTIVE last night.
I started a conversation with D in the car that I've been meaning to have for MONTHS. 

And I did it well. I did myself proud. 
All the way through the evening. 

And I had some difficult things to say.  Namely:

1. His tone of voice is a total kill joy.  I get cranky just hearing that tone sometimes. It really sucks because it puts my mood instantly into pissy-ville and then things just escalate from there.

And at times it can be a total turn off.  The second part of that was the hardest to say because it involves our sex life, and it's really really really difficult for me to be completely honest with him about that aspect of our relationship. He's very sensitive and I struggle with how to talk to him about some of the issues I'm having. This feels so taboo even to write in my blog. But I vowed that when I started writing this I would be open, honest and totally exposed.  I've struggled with this notion in the last little while and am amending it slightly because of some tweets I've seen lately.  Am starting to feel a bit insecure about how open I am, but I don't want to lose that part of my blog so I'm making an effort here.  A big one.  But baby steps.... more about this in another post.

and...

2. He is a horrible boss. Let me explain.
I am so afraid of the spring in a sense.  I know my tweets often express a desperate need for spring to return and work to start again.  I was really looking forward to this spring in particular though because we were planning on having me not work for him anymore.  But those plans are quickly unraveling before my eyes, so now I'm kind of afraid of spring because he's such a bad boss. He's rude, ignorant, places blame without hearing both sides, and he's completely ungrateful. I've had some bad bosses, but at least I didn't have to sleep with them!!! We've been driving each other crazy this winter being together 24/7 but if I have to work for him again this spring I don't know if we'll survive the season and still love each other.  This scares the shit out of me because as you saw in my Utopia Rules post from last night, we really have a vision together for our future. I don't know what I'd do without that plan.


But despite how difficult and touchy the subjects were, I did well, WE did well... went off without a hitch (and actually resulted in a little bit of BD, which has been really sporadic and infrequent lately! Ya ya!) 

And then... this morning.   I seriously don't know what's wrong with me, I'm up and down all over the place lately.  All he did was say he had a head ache.  I was about to wake and vape cuz my fibro is still bitching and he said he couldn't (well, he was kinda nasty about it I guess, in retrospect...but still, didn't warrant my reaction and my cold shoulder which he fully told me really really bothered him last night) and now he's at his mom's house and I'm feeling shitty cuz I really just want things to be good.

I'm a cranky, always-sick bitchy wifey and I'm pretty tired of it.  The only places my positivity and kindness seems to shine through is online and sometimes sometimes with our friends, or my family. Never with him anymore.

OK. Pity party over.... when he comes home I'm going to make a real effort to be sweet and see what happens.

Input is always welcome (especially on my touchy topics like this).  I believe that our community of women is a powerful source of support and it makes me feel not so alone, as I've said so many times in the past.

Light shining through!

So....the (not so) infamous "so crazy that she's sane" NaVe left the vicinity of my physical persona on Sunday.

She departed suddenly and without {?} provocation, leaving a shell, an empty hollow vessel of skin, a lump sitting on the couch being angry.

I could discuss the things that led up to her departure, but I feel that would be counterproductive, so instead I'll just tell you how it felt {feels}.  And how I got her back.

You have undoubtedly read my poetry entries (of course you have! No one misses a post - right?) and thus are acutely aware of the fact that my creativity is heightened during these happiness droughts in my life.  I'm  not sure why it is - I guess being melancholy is a catalyst to my creative juices.  It's almost like I can't speak "normally" during these times.  I become totally introverted in person, and my tongue doesn't work to say anything that isn't poetic.  I don't want to  speak, I only want write during these times - hence my twitter absence and {sporadic} poetic  posts.

It's as if my mind exists, for a time, only to create - not to live, eat, shit, drink, sleep, laugh, cry - or any of the things I "normally" do.

I also get really really angry when someone tries to pull me out of my darkness before I'm ready.   So, naturally, D got the short end of the stick quite a few times over the last few days.  He doesn't understand my inability to shed the dark at my whim.  And that makes me livid.  And when I'm livid I start doing things that I don't mean to do - like call my parents and tell them that I'm leaving him (which is a HUGE no no, 'cuz they remember EVERYTHING and hold grudges against anyone who makes me cry - even if the person is not really the one making me cry, but instead it's my own frustration seeping out).  Or delete my twitter account, blogpress and any other social networking media from my cell phone to "prove a point" (not sure what point I was trying to prove there, I just made myself more mad)

And it got even uglier.  But I digress. 


So - how did I get her back?  How am I making the return to my normal, slightly quirky, but pretty optimistic self?

Well, I wrote.  I wrote and wrote and wrote.  I haven't written this much in years - and it felt GREAT!  And I have my twitter ladies (and a few gents) and blog readers to thank for that.

In the last few years I have recoiled from my creativity - falling victim to the constant down-pressing of certain people telling me my aspirations are "hoop dreams".   Now, after getting positive feedback and lovin' from my twitterverse and blogisphere - I'm back.  And with a vengeance!

So, my mission is to sort through some of the jumbled mess of words, find the gems, hopefully write some new music, and put these angry/frustrated/insightful few days of lyricism to good creative use.

Be on the look out - more poetry to come!  The songs will most likely take a while longer, but I'm working on a few beauts ;)

One last thing - THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU....


I am so pleased that this bout of darkness only lasted 4 days.

And it's LARGELY because of all of YOU!!!

ps.  Dontcha just love that pic?  I took that in 2008 on our yearly migration to the Bruce Peninsula, Ontario for a Pow Wow at the Cape Croker Indian Park.   We have a blast - every year!  Well - last year was quite buggy - but that's a whole other post! :P

Dark

 

Subdued cries of My frustrated mind
Echo beneath the layers of indiscretion
I have been neglecting
Ignoring
Depleting
Myself, my health, my life

Heaped under the carpet where I swept it
Stress festers, untended, growing
Into something I can't name
Can't claim
Can't tame

Exerted, my mind wanders alone
Into familiar but unsympathetic territory
Unarmed
Uncharmed

Unprepared
For the wholeness of the dark

Wordless Wednesday

Too much for words - Part Three

OK - Here it comes.  The final chapter of this WAAAAYYY too long post.
For those of you just joining in the drama now, you can read part one here and part two here.  

I promise to be more upbeat in the next few posts to make up for these last few.

Thanks for reading & not unfollowing me during this rant :)
Here goes.

When I started to realize that I couldn't continue to live my life based on the doctor's (inaccurate)predictions for his life, I basically tried to have a little bit of my normal life (summer)back. But every time I did anything that was out of the city (D and I are big into camping and usually go on at least 5-6 trips per summer) I felt this horrible pit in my stomach like I should be by his side.  So I resolved to spend as much time there as I could.  I was not in the greatest state health wise myself, was waiting for my laproscopy in July, but I tried to get there at least 4-5 times a week.  I'd bring my guitar and play and sing for him.  At first he really seemed to like it.

Then I had to take several weeks off due to my laproscopy. And the pain didn't really get any better even after they removed the endo.  I started getting back into the habit of going there as often as possible, carrying my guitar on the bus despite the pain I was in.

And then he started expressing that he wasn't enjoying my little concerts anymore. And I started getting back the feelings of resentment that I had felt towards him in my youth.  Those feelings didn't just come from his criticism of me though.  I started realizing the my mother is pretty much not available to me EVER anymore because she stays by his side for 10-12 hours a day (despite the fact that she has MS and should be trying to preserve her energy).  She has become completely one track minded, and although I understand that he is her brother, and her baby brother at that, I just really think that she needs some perspective on the whole situation.

My mom got a little does of reality a few months ago.  One of her 'friends' decided to turn against her and started telling my uncle that my mother is trying to kill him (this was shortly after he was moved into palliative care). She caused a HUGE drama, which I won't get into, but I'll just say that my uncle basically spat on my parents, who had been his sole care-givers and his power of attorney since this all started, and said that he was revoking their rights, closed the accounts that my mom was using for funding his care, and accused my father (who lovingly shaved and fed him daily, and kept track of his finances, paid his bills etcetc) of stealing money from his account.

For a few weeks I was the rational one in the family, saying that he is sick and that's why he's so easily misled by this 'friend' of my mom's .  But deep down I thought that this separation was good.  My parents realized that they had been going waaaaayyy overboard, and that they needed to take a step back and start living their own lives again.   At one point during this time period I said to my mom,"Do you believe that if the situations were reversed that your brother would give up HIS WHOLE LIFE to stay by your bedside?"  She responded, "I know he would not."

She has literally given up on calling back her friends, going out for lunch with her daughter, rarely joins the family for meals, stopped talking to her daughter about anything other than his illness, stopped talking to anyone about anything other than his illness.  My father, who has his own bag of issues as well, spends all day at work and then shleps down to the hospital daily to feed him dinner.  Because my mother does not believe that the hospital can care for him adequately.  Nor does she believe that any of the caregivers they have interviewed can do a good enough job.

All that would be fine(ish), except for the fact that my mom pretty much expects me to feel the same way she does.   She makes me feel like I am a bad person because I'm continuing on with my life and not spending every minute thinking about this horribly bad and sad situation.  She appears to think that the pain that I have almost every day of my life is not justification enough to stay away.  And she also gives the perception that she feels I am being heartless, cold and invalid in my feelings about the past.

It may seem that way - and I'm the first to admit my flaws - but I really am having a hard time seeing a good outcome of me getting close to him now that he is on his death bed. The fact that he wants to become a good uncle now is a sweet sentiment, but unfortunately I'm too jaded. As usual. And I'm too scared to get close to him now as well.  I'm too scared of the feeling, the void, it will leave when he passes.

And so, I stay away.  I do a weekly visit, stay a short time, and allow D to deflect attention from me by monopolizing the conversation.  But the phone calls from my mom telling me about how he's sorry about the past etc etc, those are starting to get to me anyways.

I have never gotten along trendously well with my mom, but I miss the normal kind of not getting along.

This guilt-trip, overstressed, overtired, overworked kind of not getting along is too much for me.  And so I avoid.  Whenever I can.

That was my point - here comes the latest case:
This is what I wrote after the last time I went down there (last Sunday).

Yesterday I went down to see my uncle,  feeling like total shit, nauseous, dizzy, the whole works. D started complaining about the whole ordeal as well (I guess he's sick of being a deflector for me) and then we got there and there was no parking...

So I called my Dad to ask if my uncle was even awake, if I should shelp my ass from a  street parking spot on the other side of the world too come there. His cell was off.  I couldn't remember the extention # for the hospital room. So I called my mom.

She immediately started with attitude. I don't know why. She answered the phone sounding sweet and then switched to sour when she heard it was me. Great. Told her my dilemma.  Asked her to call Dad & tell him to call me.  She refused to even hear what I said and kept insisting that there must be parking and that I am just not looking hard enough.  Then told me I couldn't find parking because I "always insist on going there at the worst times". I was getting annoyed. I asked for the number myself so I could call. She spat it out at me and then hung up.  Great.

I called the room.  No answer.  No answer on Dad's cell still.  Called my mom again.
Her suggestion. 
"Why don't you ask D to drop you off and circle around until he finds parking".
"I'm dizzy mom. I don't want to walk alone through the hospital. I want him to be with me or even better push me in a chair." (I also don't wanna make him my hired chauffeur.)
"Hrmph... I see. "
I'm not feeling well. I don't know what else to say to her. I sit in silence.
"I know you can find parking. Just keep looking okay?"
"Fine. I'll look a while longer. If I can't find it I'm going home."
"Bye." Click. She hung up on my again.

So now, I just really really don't wanna go in at all. I want my bed. I want my duvet. I want to maintain my sanity.

BUT I try anyways.

"D? Can you drop me off at the door and then shlep back alone from the street parking spot on the other side of the world"  Cringe.
Squeeling tires out of store parking we were sitting in, and now pulling up beside  side door to hospital. I get up out of the car & as I stood up this bolt of lighting type pain hit my right ovary.  I puked all over myself, the sidewalk, and a bit onto an old lady's shoe.
Luckily I hadn't moved away from the van.  I plonked back down into my seat, pulled my pukey scarf off my neck & literally threw it in the garbage (D is a reflex puker. He sees/smells it, he pukes. I was so not in the mood for that)
And we came home.

What do you think my mom said this morning when I told her what happened and why I wasn't answer my phone all evening when they were obsessively calling and calling?
"Your father was looking all over for you. You should have called him or went to found him. He could have helped."

Helped what... helped me puke? I can handle that on my own thankyouverymuch.

Anyhow. That's the story. And the reason I 'wimped' out this time.



BUT  - Tomorrow is Sunday. I am going to try again.

Too much for words - Part two

Hello my faithful followers,
Here is part two.... for those of you who missed part one - you can read it here.

I'm new at this blogging thing, and am trying to make my posts "flow" together as well as possible, but this is my first time doing a multi-part post, so bare with me if it's a bit lumpy.

So I had just started telling you all about how my uncle and I were starting to get closer and realize some of our similarities in hobbies/talents.

We performed together at a tribute to Slovak Jewish Poetry (I sang, he played the guitar) I also tried to become a bit involved in the theater that he, my parents and their friends were involved in.  I started to loosen up around him.  I tried to help him decorate his new condo - even though my decorating guru's and teachers told me to never work for family (and they were right; that was a slightly trying experience... We spent 6 hours at IKEA picking out window treatments for his bedroom, only to have him return them the next day because they just weren't 'right'. Much more frustrating because I hadn't charged by the hour due to the fact that he is family)

He seemed to start trying too at this point.  He started living his life. His new condo was the first normal thing he had done in a long time.  Before, he had been living an eccentrically "bare" life. Void of ALL things material. Even though he had more than enough money (he's very intelligent and makes good money) he lived in a crappy apartment, never bought himself any 'luxury' items (ie. FURNITURE! A BED!?!?). Even to this day, his 'new'(8 months) condo has only a bed frame and mattress pad(I have NO clue how he slept like that) with some drawers & a dining room table & chairs. No couch. No rugs. Nothing on the walls.  And he seemed to really not mind. He began to reach out to my mom again, through the poetry and the theater, I got involved too and enjoyed working with him on his amazing songs.  I will upload some soon so you can hear.  It's not in english but still quite beautiful melodically. His poetry is unlike anything I have ever heard.  He's actually writing a song right now (about me... flattered but don't know how to handle the emotion, as usual).  The lyrics are amazing. His brain works a very interesting way, even now in his weakened state. He's a total free spirit and very spiritually gifted.  I have always (even through the hard times) admired that in him.

And here came the biggest fail our little family has experienced to date.  He was in Slovakia with the theater group preforming their latest production. This was the trip of a lifetime - him and his sister together in their homeland again. And they were also traveling to Israel together for the play. This was a huge deal for them all. My parents have not been back to Israel since the summer of 1968 when the Russians occupied Czechoslovakia while they were there on a summer student trip and they were not allowed to return home. (That story is actually what the play that they were there to perform was based on.) This was an amazing experience for them to share.  But tragedy struck - they were out for a group meal and he fainted.  He was taken to the hospital where they diagnosed him with Glioblastoma. Then he was flown home, and I was "the only family he had"(my mom's words) in Canada, so I tried to help organize his medical stuff.  But he pushed me away, and told me, not to visit him in the hospital.  I mostly ignored him and went anyways for the most part but it was hard.  The hospital had the audacity to send him home after a day or two of observation.  And he fainted again.  And this time he never got back up.

My parents stayed to finish the rest of the theater's tour, and came home a few weeks later, and his condition got really bad for a while. My mom never saw him standing again after that.   For about 2 months the doctors were telling us he only had 24-48 hours to live.  It was really insane.  That went on for a while, but then he started to get more stable.

This was the start of the summer. His condition has since stabilized considerably.  Meaning, he is still dying, he is still completely paralyzed on the left side of his body, but there is no "deadline" now.
As horrible as it sounds, it is almost harder this way.  He is not living right now.  He's a beautiful mind stuck in a useless body. And he's starting to not realize that - his mind is refusing to admit that his body doesn't serve him anymore.

Part three coming tomorrow. 

Too much for words - Part one

Before you start reading this post, I ask that you please get into your most non-judgemental  state of mind.  I will be bringing up topics that are sensitive and hard for me to talk about and face. I actually wrote this three nights ago and have been battling with myself about posting it since then.  I have decided it's better to let things out than keep them in.

I have a really bad habit that I was hoping to break this year.

I avoid things that are too emotionally difficult for me.
Things that I should not be avoiding.
And I do it much more often lately because when I am physically sore I feel like I can't handle almost anything emotionally.
It makes me feel pathetic.

Because this is such a difficult (and long!) topic for me to write about, I'll split it up into parts over the next few days.

This post topic started with my feelings of  guilt surrounding my recent decline in visits to my uncle who has been in the hospital since June 2009.
He is dying of Stage 4 Glioblastoma (Brain Cancer).
He asks for me all the time (reported to me daily by my mom)

I thought it may help me to understand my recent reluctance to go there if I blogged about it (and got some advice from my readers?)


Before you decide that I'm heartless, judge me and sentence me to a life (and afterlife?)of living with guilt - I'll give you some background info.

My uncle moved to Canada when I was 11 years old.  Prior to this, I had been a happy-go-lucky girl, the revered (adopted)only child, and I think that at that point I still liked it. The world as I knew it revolved around me.  There were pleasant afternoons at the art gallery, zoo, harbourfront... But my little world changed drastically when my uncle came to live with us.  No longer was I the center of attention, and although I grew to appreciate the tiny bit of extra freedom that came with that, the arguments and disquiet that it brought to my home was not enough incentive to make it good.

My mom had raised him until he was around 10 or 11 years old and then she immigrated to Canada (from the former Czechoslovakia).She had been pretty much his sole care giver before leaving, as my grandma was sick and in the hospital or away for respite care for much of my uncle's young life.  My mom therefore has always kind of thought of my uncle as childlike, almost as if he and I were brother and sister, rather than uncle and niece.  Which meant, in theory, that I now had to share my mother with a much older (and comlpletely ADULT) brother - who, despite his age, acted like a sullen and resentful teen.

I am still not sure how I feel about that dynamic, but nonetheless, it is/was the way it is/ will be, and so I will explain my dilemmas in relation to that reality.

When I was growing up, in particular when he was first getting used to life in Canada, life was hectic.  There were arguments, there was resentment. There were a lot of things happening in my sheltered little life all of a sudden.  And then he disapeared for a few years. Completely gone from my life, from my mom's life, from our family's life.

And then he was back.
 (this part is all very abridged and vague, but I'm just trying to cover basics. If anyone, for whatever strange reason, is extremely intrigued by this dynamic leave me a comment and I'll write a post about that alone. It's too vast for this story. Which is already too long for it's own good.)

I love my uncle, but I have never really had a relationship with him. I mean, when I was really little and we were visiting Czechoslovakia he played with me and carried me around everywhere... but that was pre-immigration, and things changed so much during that time.

 We had just started getting to know one another before all of this tragic stuff started   If anything, I had once associated a lot of resentment and bitterness with him.  I was constantly reminded of all the times he asked if we could "move" a Jewish holiday because he already had plans with friends that night. Or move a birthday, aniversary, graduation celebration because it didn't fit in with his schedule. He missed countless birthdays, only putting a "sorry it's belated" card in the mail. In the mail. ( even though we live in the same city).And though there was always a little gift of money, and sometimes even a lot, I never felt a connection.  I felt he was doing it because my mother expected him to - not because he really cared.

As of late I have tried to get past all of these things because he's my uncle, because it is important to my mother, and because we seemed to in fact have some things in common. And I'm getting older and starting to really realize that in families sometimes the younger person winds up being the bigger, more mature person.

But lately I'm not doing so well at it.  And this time of need is exactly when I should be doing well at it and being there to support my mom.  But there are things holding me back.

Anyhow, I think that is enough for part one.  Check back tomorrow for part two.  I'll talk more about the time right before he got sick and explain some of my more recent discoveries about our similarities, differences and why I think I'm pulling back. 

Why I blog

Here are my top 16 reasons for starting a blog this year.

1. I have loved journalling my whole life, but don't make enough time for it.  Blogging is more convenient, plus I feel a responsibility to my readers to post often.  And it's more eco-friendly.

2. I need a place to vent where no body knows my name. All too often I have vented to the wrong person, only to have it come back and bite me in the ass.

3. I love writing and have gotten really rusty at being able to put sentences together that aren't full of slang/ errors.  Practice makes perfect.

4.The Global Village effect.  I think it's amazing at how small the world is when you're a blogger. I love how I feel "close" to women (and men) around the world because of blogging and twitter.

5. I really need an outlet for my emotional stuff.  This is different than venting, its not coming from an angry place.

6. DH is not great at conversing about above mentioned emotional stuff, so I need another support system sometimes.

7. It fills my bored moments (read:insomnia)  with something more productive than staring at other people's lives on facebook.

8. I think it will make me more self aware.

9. Reading other peoples blogs is helping me to become more aware (in general) and also less judgmental.

10. I like the feeling that I may be helping someone out there with my words.  Even if I'm just letting them know that they are not alone.

11. I like having something that is all mine.  DH and I share everything, and spend a LOT of time together.  I sometimes feel like I'm not my own person anymore because of that.  My blog is helping to counteract that.

12. Three words. Shameless Self Promotion.  I wish I could be a rockstar (well, a hippie, indie rockstar).  Maybe I'll make it through twitter  & blogger.

13. It makes me less lonely.

14. I can obsess endlessly over the aesthetic appeal of my blog and no one has to know about it (oops. I just told you all. this one is now kinda redundant)...

15. I like sharing my randomness with the world. Somehow when it's all writeen out, it doesn't seem like such randomness.

16. I can post whatever I like. Even a top 16 list (and no one can tell me it's dumb to have an arbitrary # like 16 as a top "something" list)


So there they are, just a few reasons why I am a blogger now.
What about you? Would love to hear some of your reasons....
Remember - sharing is caring :)

Shrinking Famous People

While at Blockbuster the other day, my eye, invariably trained for movies about the human condition, fell upon the newest Kevin Spacey movie, Shrink.

I hadn't actually heard of the movie (since I'm stuck under a cable-less rock at the moment) but I am so glad that I picked it up.

It's actually very fitting with my post on private school cliques, and how they determined success, both in high school and after. 

I was always in wondrous amazement at how the most popular, most successful girls at my school were the hardest partiers, the most precautions drinkers, the smokers, the snorters, the ne'er do good-ers.  This movie really reinforced my thoughts that the (easiest/most traveled) road to fame and fortune really is lined with booze and narcotics.   Unlike many other films that have glorified this type of life, Shrink does a phenomenal job of showing the limelight in a much darker sense.

Kevin Spacey is an L.A. psychiatrist, far from the picture of health. His pull towards a half-baked life is fueled by questions that he doesn't know how to face.  He does in fact  help  troubled people find peace, but in the process his most dangerously troubled (and REAL) patient shows him the way back from the deluded lifestyle of his Hollywoodite patients. He learns with his patients (in particular this hard up young girl who is faced with the same type of disquieting grief as he is) and this sort of 'parallel' learning allows him to become more in tune with his work and with his short-comings.

In an intricately woven web of seemingly unconnected characters, this movie portrays the darker side of the glamour that embodies the essence of Hollywood. But despite it's somber nature the movie left me with a feeling of hope for us "normal people".

If only more of our world's youth could realize the huge pitfalls in idolizing and imitating the famous.  This movie does a good job of showing what's behind the Hollywood facade - and honestly, it's not so plastic-surgery-perfect.
Behind the botox faces and implanted bosoms are some seriously sad & fucked up people - just like the rest of us.

Who am I?

Things are pretty much back to normal now (thank goodness) so now I can get to some of the posts I have been scheming up in my head but was too scatter-brained to actually write down

Ok - so,  cliques.  Totally  high school right?   So how come, even though I am almost 30 years old, and starting to worry I may not be able to identify with my teenage children, when I finally have them... how come am I still dealing with it all now?!?!?!   I was always hoping that it would pass, as adolescence did, as did early university years, my early 20's and... my more innocent days.   But here it is - constantly and consistantly staring me in the face.

Mainly from out of  facebook's html frames.

I have expressed, in numerous tweets, how I will NEVER go on facebook, ever again. Even D reminded me about 15 min ago (as I hastily checked a fb email from a friend I knew back in elementary school, who tagged me in a pic of me when I was about 9 yrs old.  GREAT.) that I swore - NEVER AGAIN!  One too many pregnancy announcements, storybook weddings, fairytale vacations, and ab-so-fucking-lutely one to many of "those girls" on my list.   (for those twitter amigas and amigos who wanted to exchange facebook's with me - there you have it... the reason why I won't).

I went to a highly prestigious, very  competititve, all girls private school.  I started there in gr. 7 and did 5 years (fast-tracked and did 6 years in 5, which pretty much drove me to insanity!) And, as a result of being in  this environment during some of the more formative years of my life, my facebook is now filled with high acheiving, mostly quite wealthy, women - who all started IN EXACTLY THE SAME PLACE THAT I DID worked hard to get where they are.

Ok- so let me step back a moment and say - I really do believe that all my high school girlfriends worked extremely hard to get where they got.  And despite the fact that I have my moments of insane jealousy (which helps the muse fusing this particular post), I know that I too, if I had made different choices (some of them haven't really felt like choices) and basically, if I had led a different post-high school life, I too could have been in their shoes.  Or at least closer.  Some had a lot more advantages than I did - my parents had to work really hard to put me through that type of school - and they never let me forget it, nor did I have things handed to me.

But I worked god damn hard too. I had horrid jobs, I started from scratch, without help from my parents, or anyone really... and even when I was at my lowest points mentally&emotionally  I still supported myself and was never homeless or starving. Or into hard drugs.   It's not fair that  some of the choices I made due to my (now past) mental illness are now coming back to bite me in the ass every time I "login"....

I want to be able to travel to different destinations around the world every year (or every few months!)
(I have travelled quite a bit in my life, but not at all in the last 10 years)
I want to have beautiful pictures of family and friends dressed up to celebrate my wedding.
(I am really learning the "art and skill" involved in being a wife - which is why I call D my DH... but we are still just common-law husband & wife)
I want to have proud new mommy pictures and turn my fb page into an online shrine for my child (with the odd pic of me in the mix at some point)
(well.... we all know the lovely long infertiliy story that goes behind this one)

and so... longer story made shorter.... I am still not in the right "clique".
I'm not a mom.
I'm not a carefree spirit roaming the earth trying to find myself, or at the very least, make things better.
I'm not even techically a wife.

So who am I?

I'm not sure... but the woman whom I find when I finally figure that out, I'm sure that she'll be stronger for having asked these types of questions.
And I do try to help the earth in what measly ways I can - I recycle, when I do work as a decorator I try to use only eco-friendly products/manufacturers, I used to ride my bike everywhere (pre fibromyalgia & endometriosis)...and I plan to use cloth diapers when my TTC dream is finally realized...
So I'm not that bad, from what I do already know :p

Final thought?   Even in our darkest hours, there is a lesson learned.  No regret, no looking back, move forward and things will enivitably be as they should be*.

*a lesson I learned (but am still trying to LIVE) when I was in dialectical behavior therapy.   I used it as a mantra for a while.   It helped me.

The Calm after the storm...

Please pardon me if I'm depressing today.  The last few days have been excruciatingly difficult.  
If you are following me on Twitter you know that I had a relationship meltdown on Thursday night, and D left the house for a while.  Things are a bit better now but I'm still recovering.
Between the arguing, the quitting smoking (both of us @ the same time, and cold turkey), and with time off of infertility treatments (the only thing stable and positive that I was focused on before..... 
I feel like too many things in my life are just too negative.   

My uncle's situation in palliative care is going from bad to worse, and as bad as this sounds, there is no relief in sight for him or for us.   I miss having a normal family life - we haven't had any good times since last spring.

My health is going from bad to worse - probably because I'm so depressed and barely ever want to leave the house. 

If it wasn't for Twitter right now I would be totally and completely isolated.
Sounds so pathetic when I type it out.

I stopped talking to the only close girlfriend I had about 2 months ago because she was completely incapable of comforting me, but expected me to consistantly come to her rescue.  I am too tired to rescue someone else, and too tired to entertain someone who calls, leaves a voicemail saying she wants to "catch up" and then says absolutely NOTHING when I call to chat.  If I wanted to hear myself speak I would talk to my cats. 
I'm actually pretty relieved that I am not speaking with her.  My frusteration levels would go through the roof every time I called her in the last little while.

I can't understand people who WANT to be depressed.  I spend every day that I am depressed trying NOT to be - and trying to plan activities (even though at the moment they are mostly  within my home) to keep busy and not stay sitting like a lump on the couch.(I'm all for marathon couching, sometimes, but you can't do that all the time all day long!)   She did not do the same, nor did she encourage or try to participate in any of the stuff that I was trying to plan.  She just wanted to sit on her porch smoking cigarettes all day long - and even when I told her I was quitting, she could not respect that fact and would still constantly bring up smoking when we talked. And if I were to come over, she still wanted to sit on the porch smoking cigarettes all day.   Same thing happens with emotional cutting.  I haven't done it in years, but she constantly still does it.  I asked her to please not talk to me about it, she has a great therapist and I feel that those things are better discussed there - especially since I told her that I  felt quite triggered and had to work very hard not to fall back into old habits when she would describe her cutting to me.  The same thing would happen if she decided to overdose on her medications.  I have had issues with that in the past as well, and am doing my best to stay away from that kind of harmful behavior.  Sure there are nights when I wish I could just down 5 sleeping pills and knock out for the whole night (normally I sleep maybe 1-2 hours and then wake up).   I don't need that kind of temptation. Or lack of support. 

Despite the fact that I am relieved to be rid of that particular frusteration, I am still missing female contact.  I think that if I had more girlfriends I wouldn't feel so desperately sad about some of the things I'm lacking in my romantic life.  Plus I'd probably have a more realistic view on what a romantic relatiionship is really like, 'cuz right now I compare our life to that which I see in the movies... and, lets face it, that's probably enough to make anyone depressed.  

I'm not giving up on my happiness though.  I don't know what it's going to take to get there - but I'll figure it out eventually. 

The Darkness Continues...

Today has been a really really dark day for me.  And before I even get really into this post I'll say this:
Readers be prepared, I'm emotional, full of doubt, unleashed and I'm coming straight at ya.

As some of you know, I've been in and out of bad relationships for the last several years.  I really and truly thought that the one that I'm currently in was "it" ... or is "it"... I'm so mixed up right now I don't even know what tense to be using.   There were all the stereotypical "signs" that we are meant to be, all the feelings, all the "right" milestones coming along at the "right" times... and then this came.  This darkness or depression that always seems to come to any romantic relationship I've ever been in.    Which generally leads me to believe that I am the one at fault.

It always creeps in, reminding me that I've never really been blissfully happy.  Even as a child I felt this shadow that clouded my happiness.   And as I've grown into adulthood, I realize that even though this is a problem that is all  mine, and not the other person's, it is not my fault.   I don't know what it is that is in me to make me feel this way, but it's there, and I'm sick of pretending that it isn't.

Having said that, however, I am also acutely aware of the fact that certain people bring this melancholic tendancy out of me, and certain people help me to get past it.  And the thing that I've gotten stuck on now is that I am so afraid that the man I have chosen to spend the rest of my life with, the man I'm desperately trying to have children with, is in fact the first out of those two types of people.   And I'm so scared and sad now.

I am honestly starting to feel that he doesn't actually love "me"... but instead the concept of me and who I could be.  The idea that I presented, nice and neat, in a package just for him.  He hadn't tried to get me, I tried to get him.  And I was in a dfferent mental state at the time, so motivated, so physically healthy, so.... inspired.  I don't feel like I am any of those things anymore.   And I am starting to notice signs that he doesn't think so anymore either.   And I'm fucking scared shitless of what that means.

Is this relationship really going to be another epic NaVe Fail?   I can't accept that reality.   My last 2 serious relationships were just that... but those were abusive, manipulating men... this one isn't.... right?  Usually when I've felt like this, it was the wake up call, the signal to exit.   I don't even see an exit this time. I never planned to exit.  I never planned for any of this.

But I don't want to give up.

Rocky Road... and not the tasty kind.

I've been feeling really funny lately.
Like something is missing; I've forgotten an important birthday, missed an appointment, forgotten to renew my drivers license... something is askew.

Today I figured out what it is. 

I am missing the drive & motivation that came with our actively trying to conceive.

I don't  mean to say that we aren't "trying" right now (still doing our 'baby dance' on a regular, sperm motivating & inducing rate), but I am on a clomid break.   Those of you who follow me on Twitter know that this break has not been an easy one so far.   I haven't seen a substantial difference in  my crazy night sweats, extreme fatigue, depression and most importantly the good ol' clomid rage.  

To be honest, I am not 100% sure that my freak outs are clomid rage related.  Winter is always a hard time for me, especially in the last couple of years.  My guy and I run a home-maintenance business from home so winter time means that he is home with me all day.  Every day.  Don't get me wrong, I love him to pieces, but 24/7 exposure can be too much even in the best of circumstances.  And we also just quit smoking. Together.

So now I'm faced with this question:  Am I getting mad at him for reasons that are justified? 
Or am I just raging?

Normally I try to not overanalyze these kinds of  things to the extreme.  Of course I do a little, but I try to not drive myself insane about the source of my emotions.   But in this case I'm really perplexed.   If I am indeed justified in my anger, that puts a whole series of doubts & questions into my head that I just really try not to think about most of the time.  In particular: "should I be trying so hard to have a baby with a man that I get so frusterated with?" 

And to add into my mix of confusion, I've been given a time limit on my fertility that I was really really not expecting.  Is that a good enough reason?  I'm meant to be a mother, and have known that pretty much since I got my first period.  Is that a good enough reason? Do I want to have a baby with the thought that that baby may wind up growing up in a split up home in the back of my head? I know I could be a single mom, and a great one, but do I want to do that "knowingly"?  

I know that ups and downs in relationships are normal, so I often pasify myself with this knowledge. 
But that knowledge is not doing much for me in the last week or so.  I find myself daily questioning where I am, why I'm here and if I should be making a change or not.  

I almost wish that I was on the clomid so that I could explain away all these questions and blame it on being hormonal...

And right now I'm actually grateful for one of the complaints that I've had about hubby lately - the fact that he doesn't read this blog made it much easier to be totally open & honest!

A little more detail...

I've been meaning to do a "who am I" series of posts since I started this thing... but it seems life's little ups & downs keep dragging me from my plans. 
Tonight is the night tho.  At least for part of my story... Here I go. 

I'll start back in 1999.  I graduated from high school a year early (in Ontario we used to have 13 grades, I "fast-tracked" to get out early).   I hadn't planned on doing this throughout the course of my high school education, but a summer trip to Oxford, England made me realize that I really needed to get out on my own. ASAP.   So as soon as I returned to Toronto I high-tailed it to my high school and changed around my whole schedule so that I could finish a year ahead.  

As brilliant as that plan had been (to get out of my parents' stifling home), I pretty much lost my mind that final year of high school.   Too much stress I suppose - my school was a high-pressure, fancy-shmancy all girls private school, and I was taking a more than full course load, all while doing an insane amount of extra-curriculars.   I officially burnt out in March 1999, started cutting, and wound up in the psych ward at the hospital.



Before that, I had always felt that there was 'something' in me that kept me from acheiving happiness.  I was always melancholy, a bit dark, introspective (though not shy) and had brief bouts of depression/eating problems from the age of 13+.  They came to a peak in 1999 and I started my journey into the world of psychiatric medicine.  


I'm not going to bore you with all the details, but basically I have been on almost every anti-depressant there is, have had 4 different diagnosis', and in the end... I really don't think there was a need for any of it. In fact, I think some of my problems have stemmed from being put on the wrong medications at too young an age. More about that in another post... 



Those trials & tribulations lasted from 1999 to about 2004.  During that span of time I went through 2 extremely abusive relationships, was kicked out of my parents' home (after having to come back from residence life at University due to mental health issues), and basically did a whole shit load of stuff that I either can't remember or am totally ashamed of.(I may write more candidly about this part of my life in a later post as well, theraputic reasons mostly, I think it would be good to finally owe up to some stuff and just move on)



But for now... Lets skip to the part where things start getting better. 


I wound up living in Government Housing (ok, so that's not the getting better part, but it's coming I promise!) in a really crappy & dangerous neighbourhood with a really abusive guy.  That was not a good time in my life, but I have to mention it in the "getting better" chapter because that's where I met & fell for my hubby.   We were roomies while I was with "the looseball" (that's what we both call him now)  and we became close friends really quick due to our common love of all things animal.  We also had so many other things in common, and he made me laugh, and laughter was so foreign to me at the time.  I had pretty much been living through 5 years of total hell up until then.  


Being friends with him gave me the confidence to move out of that hell hole, and in 2005 I got my first real apartment, and my first real home as an independant person.  


I lived in my pretty pink & white girly space for a year before I decided that I just HAD to tell future-hubby what my feelings were.... 


And luckily he reciprocated!

After that it was a pretty quick turn-around from my one and only year as a single woman, to being in a wifey roll.  He moved in, bringing his various reptiles, giant fish tanks  and 2 big dogs with him ( much to the dismay of my only kitty at the time, Sessie, who lived in my walk in closet for a month before re-staking her territory from the dogs).  Did I mention I had been living in a bachelor apartment??   It was... cozy!


After about 4 months of tripping over fish tanks & animals we realized we really really needed to get a bigger place and so we moved away from my beautiful apartment (which was in a GREAT part of town) and got the 2 bedroom apartment we live in now, which is in a part of town I really don't like.  Now it's just about saving that dough so we can get a house. 


Things are pretty calm now in my life,  other than the medical aspect of things (infertility, fibromyalgia, endometriosis) And for that I am grateful.  It gives me time to think about the things that I want to improve, instead of just being in emotional crisis mode all the time.  

I am getting better at facing my past - hopefully blogging about it will help to make it truly my PAST, and not just baggage that I carry around in the present.  
'till next time!