Stone Voices

It’s been a shit day. The odd thing is, on sheer word count, I got a lot more done today. Yesterday I actually ended up with a negative word count. I handed in the two chapters I had done and then got stuck, badly stuck, on how to proceed to the need section. After talking to my supervisor we redesigned the layout of my thesis. It meant the 9000 word findings chapter was basically scraped and the methods section had to be reedited. But with a long view it actually made me feel better about the design, and gave me the inspiration and layout to follow on with. And really the finding chapter wasn’t completely trashed, I’ll be able to cut sections out of it, build on it. So although technically I had dropped 15 000 words off my total when I left there yesterday I felt like I had accomplished something. Today, I rewrote my methods section and did about 1500 in my discussion section, so technically I did achieve quite a bit, I felt odd, unsettled, disappointed.

I hadn’t wanted to get up in the morning, and felt headachy and sore by the time I even made it to the bus stop. It had been a shocking day, emotionally and mental health-wise. I did manage to stay there until 3pm, heading home only half an hour earlier than we usually do. But by the time I got home I was shaking quite dramatically, really dissociative and physically exhausted. Part of it I think was a combination of lack of food and that oppressive heat we’ve had today.

When I got home I should have gotten something to eat and drink and just put my feed up, but it seemed imperative that we reorganise the desk. It wasn’t a difficult job, other than there was pulling out the table and climbing over things, and untangling wires. I really didn’t want to be doing that, but it seemed urgent suddenly. Of course, once settled I thought I’d fucked my modem again, but it was just sulking it seems because the second time I turned it on it worked fine.

So I got changed, made myself a cheese sandwich and drank a galleon of water.

I got my passport when I got home today. It’s weird, how exciting it feels to have a valid one again. I mean, I know I will be using it eventually to go see Sassy, but at the same time, simply having a passport doesn’t mean I’ll be jetsetting off around the world. We can’t afford it, no matter how long the list of places we want to see, how long it has been since we last travelled. So the excitement feels odd, but its still excitement.

Ok, so now it seems to be finally ended, let me share with you all the saga of the modem. Settle back it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

As some of you might be aware, recently our computer died. Long story short, someone decided we were so toxic they had to disinfect the computer, result one dead computer. Now thanks to a good friend I was able to get a replacement a few days later. I get the new computer home, and start setting it up, and about 10 minutes later my modem dies.

I rang Slingshot. The first woman I spoke to was rude and useless. She told me to disconnect everything and reconnect them. I told her I had done that and she just went right well you’ll need a new modem, goodbye. So rather rudely I said ok, I’ll just hang up and ring back. I basically did that and hit a different extension and got a different guy. I told him what the story was, and he asked me how long I had it, and it was about over 2 years. He seemed to agree that the modems always got a little tetchy after that long. I think its their way of making people maintain their contracts. Because he said if I signed a 2 year contract he’d send me a new modem. I like slingshot, I love the deal I’m using so it was no problem to do that. I thanked him and hanged up.

I had hoped the new modem would arrive on Friday but it didn’t. I think I was being a bit too optimistic about how long it would take to get here. So anyway, on Saturday I was going into internet withdraws and basically with no hope and out of boredom I turned on my old modem. It didn’t work, but instead of just turning it off, I forgot and left it running. About an hour later it started working. I still couldn’t get the new computer to work though, so I rang Slingshot again. Got a really helpful man again, and we worked out it was the Norton’s security that was blocking the connection. Now I don’t like nortons and the plan was to remove it and use the one we get through the University since I do like that. He also told me the one they were sending me was wireless, so even if this one was working, the wireless would be best.

The modem continued to work for about 4 hours and then it died. But enough time for me to set up the computer and everything. The next day I tried to connect again. It took about 2 hours of trying, but when it connected, it stayed connected all day. I didn’t feel comfortable with it, like any minute it could drop, but I got my internet while waiting for the new one.

Monday the new one arrived. I frowned a little when I unpacked it because it wasn’t wireless. I thought for a moment, maybe I should just settle for that one. But decided I should check, because I would so prefer wireless. The guy asked me to describe what I received, and yes it was a cable modem. He checked my status and yes they should have sent me a wireless. He said, pack up the replacement, and they would send me the right one and a prepaid courier bag to return it. I told him although my old one is still working, it has broken a few times now. He said, keep my fingers crossed it would stay working, because they would prefer me not to use the one I was sending back. He said it was easier for them to return it to the manufacturer if it hadn’t been used. But he also said if my old one dies before the wireless arrives to ring them again and they would sort something out. I was ok with that.

For that whole week, whenever I turned on my modem there were those long minutes of waiting to see if it would connect. Fortunately it did seem to. I was starting to get frustrated because the wireless hadn’t arrived, and it seemed to be taking much longer than their first delivery. I had to wonder if they had tried to deliver it but found I wasn’t home so just left. But then I’m sure I’m not the only person who isn’t home during the day that is waiting for a modem.

Today when I arrived home from school the modem was waiting on the doorstep. It was the right one, but man it was confusing to set up. So I rang the Slingshot people again. The guy, wasn’t exactly to keen to help, but he did get us to set it up. I am now wireless, and with the size of my house I can basically use this computer anywhere.

Thank fuck.

With everything going on with my friend, and her grieving the death of her father, it’s made us think a lot about our own. The situation is very different of course, not just because our fathers appear to be very different, but also my own attachment issues. I think my grief was disjointed, and probably incomplete, because I’ve never really formed a full attachment to anyone, even my dad.

We still have a lot of issues around my dad, things we haven’t addressed or truly faced. The things he did, or in his case, didn’t do, caused us a lot of pain and hardship, but the thing is, we love our Dad. It’s probably one of the reasons its so hard to talk about. When I think of my grandparents, there’s just a lot of hatred, and a lot of fear, but zero love or affection. My mother’s complicated, hatred, fear, responsibility, and, not affection, but a belief there should be affection, there should be love. Which is a lot different than there actually being those things. With my dad, there is the love, the affection, and there’s also hurt and betrayal. So yeah, fucking difficult.

My dad was the one that taught me how to fish, and make handmade wooden toys. I remember sitting on the riverbank beside him at dusk. I remember exactly the way he used to squat, he always seemed to sit like that when he was outside, in nature. I remember us poking twigs into the billy to get the water to boil. Nothing was said, that’s the thing about me and my Dad we never really talked much, but it was comfortable that silence. And that memory, it feels so warm and serene to me.

I get sad sometimes, thinking that when I get my Masters I won’t be able to tell him. I never told him when I got my BA and he was so saddened by that, hurt that I would exclude him. He’d be so proud of me. My mother, she will say she’s proud but its a presentation, a way of performing. There is not real pride there, not for me. But with my Dad I could feel the truth of it. My Dad wasn’t an academic, he worked with his hands. First by diffusing bombs and putting out fires, and later by building and growing things. Where my mother’s family saw academia as an attack and judgement on them, Dad seemed to understand it was where I found myself, found my happiness. The first person that ever encouraged me to think, to investigate, was my Dad. It was about religion, and we had very different views on Christianity. But Dad didn’t mind that, his only issue was that I shouldn’t accept or reject without first knowing. He wanted to me to read the bible, to think and question. He may have preferred I came to the same conclusions as he did, we never talked about that, but he was adamant that any conclusion I reached was informed, not just a blind decision

I sometimes think my Dad regretted never protecting me, but I can never be sure, we never talked about it, hell, in my family you never talked about anything. The only time he ever hit my mum though, was because of me. I don’t like violence, I don’t agree with hitting people (some people here have very different views on the matter), but when I heard the story I thought it was partly about protecting me, about finally standing up to her and saying it wasn’t acceptable. It was when I was really sick, I was trying to kill myself almost weekly. Supposedly, according to my mother, she said she wished I’d just do it and do it right so they wouldn’t have to keep dealing with me ending up in hospital. According to her, Dad slapped her and walked off. A big part of me thinks too little too late, but I also hold onto that story, hold onto the idea that someone in my family loved me enough, that he may have been hurt by having to live with a daughter mentally unwell, but he wasn’t just going to sacrifice me again for the comfort of his wife.

When we found out that Dad was dying, I didn’t really know what to do with that. I didn’t know how normal people react. I loved my dad but at the same time there was this distance, this distortion to it. In hindsight I should have gone to see him more, but even as I write that I don’t feel it. It’s hard to explain this feeling to people, this failure of connection. It’s not that I didn’t love him, its more my ability to love him. Anyway, the one time before he died, I did go up there to see him. By that stage the communication parts of his brain had been eaten away. Mum had warned me he may not appear to even notice I was there, that not just his speech, but even his ability to physically communicate had be effected. She was sure however he was still aware. But when I came into his room, my Dad, he lit up. My dad, who was never very emotive and open, smiled at me like I was amazing and loved. It sounds clichéd and melodramatic, but the way he smiled and reacted to me, filled the room with love. And yeah, according to my mother I was the only one that ever got that response.

I need that memory. Hell even now years after he’s gone, just writing that has me teary. I’m sitting here at school writing this, glassy eyed with a tear down my face. But it tells me, for all his failings, for all the ways he failed me, he really did love me. That he managed to see me differently than everyone else, he didn’t act on that, he wasn’t able or willing to challenge everyone else, but regardless he loved me and I loved him.

Another good thing about going down to school to do my study, I get to have my weekends back. In the past when we have tried to do the work at home we end up procrastinating a lot, doing a little, then doing something else, then doing a little. It got to the stage that would be our routine all week, feeling we had to do that in the weekends too, because, well I’m not entirely sure why, but maybe because we weren’t doing enough. And I think that might have been a reason there were people starting to sabotage things. No one else was getting their share of time. Now everyone agreed that school had to come first, that we had to be allowed to do the work, but it got to the point it wasn’t just coming first, it was the only thing and I think, I truly believe that if you sacrifice everything for someone else, or in this case for us getting our masters, that in the end you start feeling resentful and angry, that you have to make an effort to take care of your own needs before you to that for others.

So this weekend people have gotten to do stuff for themselves. I know we wasted some time online yesterday and did some housework, and today someone did some writing and well, other things, no idea what, but it doesn’t feel that important I know. And as a result our community is a lot more, hmm, not sure of the word, maybe its a lot less.. a lot less resentful, combative, hostile. Everyone doesn’t feel like they have to give up their lives and pretend to be Kate so we can achieve this goal. There’s no longer that nagging feeling of sabotage, and reportedly not as much harassment towards certain people. So yeah, a good move in many ways.

I think my OCD stuff flares up when my anxiety levels are high. I spent 10 minutes today trying to get a pile of note paper to be neat enough. They were the sort of memo/note bits of paper but because they were two different sizes the pile of them never looked right. I tried to ignore it, tried to say it didn’t matter, but every time my eyes were drawn to them, and once I saw them I had to try to get the pile neat enough. After about the 10 minutes I gave in, and got out the scissors and cut about 1cm off the bigger ones so the pile could all be the same size and the pile stopped getting me worked up. It was a little ridiculous, ok it was a lot ridiculous. Because seriously, what difference did it really make. But it seemed to make a lot of difference. The odd thing is I’m so not usually that picky. My house can attest to that. Sure I like it when its tidy, but I’ve been known to leave piles of junk mail over my desk, and there’s usually half a dozen used toilet rolls on the bathroom floor before I throw them out. But in my home I don’t have that same anxiety level, I’m able to just relax and be. I’ve been pushing my limits this last week, going out, and that anxiety is resulting in over the top OCD behaviours. Luckily I’m in the office alone, so no one is going to move that tidy pile or look at me like I’ve lost my mind.

I’ve been going to school every day this week. Part of me feels proud of that, going headlong into an area that always brings me trouble. It’s good for school, yes, I’m doing a lot of work. But it’s leaving me feeling anxious, feeling just a little off, like I’m an inch from getting really teary and fragile. I’m not there yet, and part of me thinks it is also related to being tired. I’m just not used to doing so much, hiding in my house was not exhausting, not like being out in public. I’m planning on trying to adjust my sleep cycle, forcing myself to go to bed early, to stay in bed even if I don’t sleep and see if I can convince my body and my mind that its ok to sleep before midnight. I’ve also been getting more exercise. I walk to the bus stop and home again every day, and ok that’s only about 20 minutes a day, but when you’re like me and very inactive those 20 minutes make all the difference. I know this is my mind (and my body) readjust to new routines, and pushing the boundaries of my anxiety disorders and I will just have to find a way to adjust to that. I’m not giving up, not yet at least.

I found out that the bus I use to get down to university does a student monthly pass deal. I pay $25 a month and can use that bus as often as I want. To get to therapy I have to take other buses so that will be an extra cost. But before this the bus fare was $1.92 one way, so if I was to come down here every day, excluding the trip to therapy on Fridays it would cost me $17.28 a week, that’s $69.12 a month, so using the monthly pass I’m saving $44.12 a month. Of course I’m not really going to be saving that much as what I would have done was not come down here as much. But I’ve found I like working down here, I get more done, feel more focused, so now I can be here every week day without having to struggle for the money.

The other thing which is really dorky of me. I have an office. At the moment I’m the only one in my office, the other students have 2 per room. But for some reason the other occupant isn’t here and it isn’t set up for her, so it feels like I have my own office. I can do what I want with it. It’s my own space, I even have my own extension number. It makes me feel.. I don’t know, important, special, academic, something like that. At the moment I haven’t decorated it much, its pretty barren. But then I only have a few more months left of my Masters so probably won’t do anything. But if, as it is seemingly more likely, I come back to do my PhD (highly dependent on my Master’s grade) and just keep using this one space, I’ll take over it more, personalise it more as my area. But yes I’m a dork, I love that I have a key to my office, a computer set up for my personal use, and my own extension within the University network.

On the way to school today we passed a duck walking her ducklings across the street. We had to stop and watch, to make sure they got across safely. Which is kinda cute and all, but we were on the way to catch a bus and the ducklings were very slow walkers. But it seems we are rather obsessed with the welfare of animals at the moment, and doing everything we can to keep them safe. Again, understandable, but rather frustrating when it becomes disruptive to our lives.

I had an appointment with disability services to work out my enrolment today. Have to say, it was fucking useless. My usual case worker was away, the new woman was crap. I left there feeling more confused and frustrated than before so now will work things out myself and wait for my case work to return from her holidays. Before the appointment I was outside having a smoke when a woman walked past. It was an ex, I haven’t seen her in like almost 15 years. It was really great to see her. She’s now married and expecting her second child, I was really happy for her. We were always more friends than lovers, both at the time completely emotionally unstable, but still really good for each other. She was on her way to a doctor’s appointment but said to email her and we’d catch up. Even if she didn’t mean it, and I don’t hear back from her it was really nice to run into her.

Ok Enough Procrastination! I’m off to write up my methods section.

All those with cats, please give them lots of love today for me.

Woke up last night with screaming attached to a memory of abuse. I don’t feel comfortable sharing the details, let’s just say it was about kittens and really repulsive. So today feels like it should be a day filled with cat love. Like an apology, a reconnection, a way of balancing out, wiping clean what he did.

I tried to snuggle my cat to death this morning, but after about 2 minutes she got fed up with all the love and jumped down in favour of cat biscuits. The girl just doesn’t understand the love.