at least for a while
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I think there was a part of me that secretly hoped Bob would turn up today. I think I hoped he would know this is a really rough time for us, and because he missed our regular time on Friday he would turn up today instead of waiting until we normally see him next Friday. And I think because I allowed myself to hope for that when it didnâ€™t happen it felt like yet another rejection, which is silly, it isnâ€™t like it was planned, and I donâ€™t even know if he is back at work. Still I am hit with that feeling, of being forgotten, of not counting. This is a rough time for many of us, but we donâ€™t complain, well ok I complain here a lot, but we donâ€™t make much noise in our complaints. Itâ€™s the squeaky wheel thing, we never made a good squeaky wheel, we always preferred to go off and find the oil ourselves, it was safer that way. So now when I really need attention, when we really need someone to notice us I donâ€™t know how to do that. Instead we seem to just keep quiet and hope that this time it will be different, and it seldom is.
I am meeting a woman from school for coffee tomorrow. Iâ€™m feeling rather good and hopeful about this. This is the woman I ended up having coffee with the last week of classes, and we have been keeping in touch via email since. Her husband works in PNG for long bursts and she is heading over there to stay with him for a few weeks on Friday so she emailed me and suggested we meet up for coffee before Friday. The fact that she suggested it was really buoying, it helps knowing she is just as interested in meeting. I am hoping a good friendship will develop from this, no pressure or anything, we really like her company and it would be nice to have a more local friend. Something we seem to be lacking. It reminds me of Sean talking about how socially isolated I am. He actually said he doubts that will change much in my life. I remember thinking, man what I wonderfully supportive therapist I have. It would probably be a problem if I thought he was wrong, but the truth is I doubt I am ever going to be very sociable, that I am going to have a lot of people in my life, close or otherwise. I would like more than I have, and I still hope for the relationship-type relationship. But I really donâ€™t know if that will happen.
I’m losing my fucking mind, and even blood is not helping
I tried on my pair of old black pants. I loved those pants, even though they are falling apart. But now they are extremely tight. I have put on so much weight. I really feel bad about it. I need to do something about the weight, really need to take off some, well truly a lot, but I donâ€™t think that will happen, but some would be good. Iâ€™m ashamed and disgusted in myself for this weight. It makes me feel worthless and ugly and all so many things. I need to do some things, watch what I eat, exercise more. There are these things I know I can do, but then the negativity sets in. Why bother? It wonâ€™t work, I wonâ€™t manage. Iâ€™ve just had 3 slices of toast with banana on it, probably reasonably healthy, rye bread, no butter, but now I feel like it just proves to everyone what a selfish pig I am. It stirs up that feeling that I should have become anorexic then I would be thin, then I would be loveable then I wouldnâ€™t be so damn worthless. I know part of this is about my mother, her total desire that I needed to be thin, m fatness was a sign of my evil, a sign of my badness as a daughter and a person. But there is the stuff that is just what I feel is the truth, being fat makes me horrible, makes me less than everyone else in this world. I hate myself for being this size, I hate being fat and ugly, I think it just proves that I donâ€™t deserve to be alive. Of course all I want to do right now is eat, to eat myself away, bury the pain of being fat and ugly under food. Probably makes no sense but thatâ€™s how it feels when I get caught up in all this. Proof that I am bad, proof I deserve all the pain and suffering I live with, if I canâ€™t simply lose weight and stop eating.
As requested, pictures of our cat, Lucy, aka, Evil Puppy, Rabbit and a number of other names usually called her when she’s been a pain. They are a little fuzzy.
I hate a series of death dreams last night. There is no actual death in the dream, but it is looming, it is one step ahead. I have them regularly. They used to be more regular, every week there would be 2 or 3 nights of death dreams. We used to call them end of the world dreams, but there were some that it was more personal than the whole world ending. The series last night, I think there were about 5 dreams all up, some were clearly connected with what we were going on, and others were definitely more vague. The strange thing is in one of the dreams I was out in St. Clair, well I thought of it as St. Clair, but it looked totally different, that isnâ€™t the strange thing, it is the fact that the same place, keeps recurring in these dreams. Not just last nightâ€™s dreams, but in many of the ones we have had before. Itâ€™s exactly the same place, the same streets the same buildings, but although in our mind it is out in St. Clair it doesnâ€™t match the reality. I wonder where it is, or if we have just created this place over and again in our mind. You know if I ever found myself for real in a place that looked like it I donâ€™t know if I would be fascinated or terrified.
I donâ€™t remember all the details of last nightâ€™s dreams. One I remember was about trying to escape some place, I snuck in with a bunch of refugees that were allowed to be released pretending to be someone else but someone else let slip some information, and I was about to be found out. Thatâ€™s when I woke up, panicked looking for away to escape before they dragged me back. I am pretty sure I can work out all the meanings in that dream, they werenâ€™t exactly subtle, although some of the stuff in the compound before I escaped were a little less obvious. The other dreams I donâ€™t really remember clearly, except for the part with the mushroom clouds over the ocean out at â€œSt. Clairâ€. I sort of wish I had written them up when I woke up, had a clearer picture of what left me so terrorised this morning.
When I was lying in bed this morning, just after 9am the phone rang. I knew what it would be although I hoped I was wrong. I wasnâ€™t. The receptionist where Bob works was ringing to say he wouldnâ€™tâ€™ be at work that day so he wouldnâ€™t be seeing me. She asked if I was ok about that, I said yes, what else could I say. No I am a mess, I needed to see him, everything we have done this week was with the knowledge we would get support and release by being able to talk to him. These are not the things you say to a woman that works as a receptionist, no matter how much they are the truth. This is why we should never rely on anyone, someone says. And I get the point, so much of our coping, our ability to handle all this we placed on the fact Bob would be here today, we would be able to talk to him, to sort some of this stuff out. It is like this build up of pressure and having someone we trust to hear some of it, even a little part is like relieving that pressure. Bob also gives us comfort and support, he holds us up for a while letting us use his strength. And when he goes, we are left with the feeling of being heard, being cared for, we donâ€™t feel so alone and isolated in our turmoil. These things we needed, these things we were relying on. They didnâ€™t happen and we are left floundering.
I hate the double smoke weeks, it is my rough financial week where I have to buy two pouches of tobacco in the one week. This is about every third week. It means I have about $2 left for the week and no treats such as DVD or real coffee. Although it has been so stinking hot today that I would have actually preferred beer to coffee. Water just isnâ€™t the same. When I got home from the supermarket I decided to get off my arse and get the house cleaned. It is not a great job and worse when it is hot and muggy. I have done about half the work. I still have to clean out the bath, but will do that after I have a shower tomorrow. The bathroom and kitchen floor needs done, and I really have to clean the fridge itâ€™s a bit gross in there. Everything else is pretty much done. Celi is still in a snit but I heard her comment that the windows really need done, but unless she does them I think they canâ€™t really be bothered with that.
Triggered with all sorts of crap. Seems some guy has come to New Zealand to perform what can be best described as exorcist entertainment. Live shows where he goes around exorcising demons from people. I saw something on the news last night and turned it over before I saw the whole thing, too much though. Now watching some trivial entertainment programme it came on as well. Yeah all fun and games, but well maybe not for him, and for us, itâ€™s too close, too triggering too upsetting. We are barely holding our head above the water that is memory flashbacks, we didnâ€™t need to add to the volume. He was linking demon possession with child abuse, he didnâ€™t say if the demons were in the abusers or the abused, but fuck. Itâ€™s all I can say right now â€¦ fuck.
I couldnâ€™t get through last night without taking a pill. I donâ€™t know what I am going to do when they run out. I keep busy, or try to keep busy during the day. But when evening comes I donâ€™t know what to do with my mind, to keep it off things. I have TV on in the background and the noise, itâ€™s one of those nannying programmes, and it is driving me insane. I canâ€™t have total silence because then there is nothing to distract me. I don feel like I am going insane. I donâ€™t know how I will get through the next few days. I feel out of control. I tell myself it is temporary, but right now that doesnâ€™t mean anything. I wonder if this is to be all there is in my life. God I hate it all.
Iâ€™ve been trying to write some stuff about how things have been for us lately. Every day I write, or begin writing but then the words get all caught in my throat, or wherever they get caught when one is typing, so I end up stopping. I have saved the attempts but in the morning, or the next time I come to the computer I read them and they all sound so jumbled, or whiney, or pointless so I delete and try to start again. I wonder if the same thing will happen this time.
I donâ€™t have the energy to do anything, actually I think its more motivation and concentration I lack. There are a number of things I should do; cleaning the house is high on the agenda. I canâ€™t believe how messy and disgusting this place has become, but regardless of that I canâ€™t seem to get off my arse to do it. So most of the day I sit around and do little, we continue making our icons, having yet again changed the plan with them, and we read emails when they come through. There is a part of me that wants to get in a fight, throw insults around, but the people that really want a fight donâ€™t want it to be with words, and the rest of us, well we donâ€™t want to deal with the consequences, we donâ€™t want to have to face up to the guilt and embarrassment once everything has claimed down. But that energy is building, the violent energy, the type that pushes us to want to destroy and hurt people. I hate how it feels, I hate knowing why it feels this way. I still struggle accepting this reality, still struggle not to think it sounds corny, unbelievable, delusional all that stuff. But at the same time it is easier to deal with if we hold onto that understanding, we donâ€™t feel so out of mind, so irrational. We feel crazy no matter what, it is just different types of crazy. The crazy that is understandable is slightly better than being in the dark and still crazy.
We donâ€™t to be one of those people we see that have just given in. The ones that say, this is how it is, itâ€™s October therefore I will be crazy. It is the way it is now, but we hope, we do all we can to make sure it isnâ€™t always this way. We did not get all concerned and crazy leading up to it, we did not start panic a month or so before it. I do think we stuck our head in the sand a week or two ago when we felt it begin to build but refused to acknowledge it. Once again it is that horrible balance word, finding the balance between living life and acknowledging the past. We refuse to curl up in a ball and give up. So instead what are we faced with, looking at ourselves, looking at what happened to cause all this, trying to unravel all the lies, all the messages, all the beliefs about ourselves and the world. It sometimes feels like it is just making it worse, stirring it up, making it look fresh and raw. It would be better I sometimes feel to just ignore it, to bury it away and carry on like everything was fine. But the truth is it isnâ€™t fine and if we donâ€™t pay attention to that it will come up and bite our arse, it has before when we have pretended the best thing to do was forget and be fine. But sometimes it is hard to hold your hand to the flame when all you want to do is run screaming from the room.
I am going to post this now, I have run out of steam, but I know if I save it to complete later it will go the way of all the other posts.
I got my third essay back today. I got a good mark, but the thing is I really donâ€™t believe I deserved that mark. I donâ€™t think it was good enough. Now am I going to complain, ask to be graded down? Hell, no. But it leaves me feeling a little strange. I am glad, it makes it possible for me to get a great final mark, even if I screw up the exam. But I am left with a feeling of cheating, even though it wasnâ€™t me that gave the grade.
I have finished all the recoding on our website. It wasn’t really that bad, just rather tedious. I’m still quite excited to have our very own space. And I think the enthusiasm has rubbed off as people seem keen on writing new pages. It’s been a while since anyone was motivated in that area
I tired fiddling with the coding and set out on wordpress but nothing seemed to work. I will continue doing so though, not much I want changed but it would be good to have a fair idea of how it all works