My thoughts and energies for the past few days since I got out of the hospital have been directed toward work and the high school politics, manager's meetings, and defense of my character and my competance in my work which I hold such pride in, to the degree it can affect negatively on other areas of my life, as some people know. I don't really want to talk about it, but felt the need to mention it.

Coming home this afternoon, I gently ejected an impromptu houseguest that had appeared back in my life after a long absence. In truth, I already knew what the outcome of this psuedo relationship would be, given that truly in my heart and my mind, I do not have anything there to offer anyone. Just try explaining that to a guy who wants to do nothing but spend all available time with you. So there's the what I call 'empty husk' feeling I have along with the fact that he's been in my personal space the past 2 days, and I truly felt myelf not liking the level of intimacy that forms between people from spending a lot time together.

Which makes me a little sad, because I would like to believe that I some day I will have something to offer and not be turned off by the intimacy factor. I just like my 'alone time', always have, always will, I suppose.

When my younger sister, Wasse had her first child, Riley, my older sister B. was there from day one. B and Riley formed a close bond, and she was one of the most consistent things in his life up until his father decided that we didn't need to see our nephews anymore, about 2 years ago. We have not seen them since, Riley and Danny.

Then today, B was volunteering at a waterpark for environmental solutions for water usage. All kinds of fun stuff for the kids to do with water, etc. School aged children came in droves. Riley was one of them. And he didn't recognise her.

She's devastated. I can't do anything other than call Riley's father and leave another message asking that we be allowed to see the children on a regular basis. And miss having these two little guys smiling up at me when hunting for Easter eggs or splashing in the bath (although I guess they are too old for me to bathe them now). Lost times, moments.


Danny and Riley in my old apartment about 4 years ago.


In other news, take a look at the below link to see how Matthew Good writes about how underneath it all, we're just the same after all.
http://www.matthewgood.org/2007/06/down-some-lonesome-street/

Labels: cry, family, Gish, job, layers, Matthew Good, nephews, photographs, we all lose in the end

sanctuary
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

I haven't had anywhere that I would particularly like to be. Not for a long while. No place to rest my head and feel that I was ok, normal, loved and most importantly, safe. This past year has meant a lot of changes for me. The first, obviously moving to this new writing space. Which I am still not sure I will maintain, future food for thought.

When I lost it, my mind I mean. I never thought I would have any kind of meaningful support other than an imaginary kindly old nurse that would pat my knee reassuringly while I was being fitted for the straight jacket. I know that in myself, in my speech and some beliefs I have, I perpetuate the old myths of mental health. I know this, it's not intentional, at the same time it's not something I can see changing any time soon.

Given the events of this past week, I now know a few more things. That when you check into emergency by sliding a note stating "I'm going to kill myself" across to the receptionist behind the bullet proof glass partition, they whisk you away only to make you wait in a chair next to a drunk throwing up what seemed like gallons of red wine two seats over.

From then on it was completely "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". You can all cheer and think it was a great thing when the indian guy broke the water fountain and walked away from the institution, but shit like that doesn't really happen. Instead, I was held in a room painted blue, they told me to put on the gown, I declined until further notice. I hadn't yet seen a doctor. The door, I remember, had a round fishbowl-like window in it, and they locked from the outside.

I lay down on the gurney, wrapped a sheet around myself and tried to be as small as possible until the ordeal was over. This is the latest in events that have been my effort to seek help for the severe depression I've been suffering.

I hear things like 'bi-polar', 'crazy', 'she's just one of those that are never happy people'. In ways I can't even explain, moods come over me and I'm helpless to stop or manage the emotions. It feels like I'm crazy, so I often refer to myself as such. It could be a lie, who really knows.

My family is angry and hurt that I didn't reach out to them for help. But even if I had, I wouldn't have had the words to tell them what's wrong.

I still don't.

Until then, I'm floating on a very thin carpet. I eat icy green grapes for dinner and pet Buckley whilst reading old Margaret Atwood books in the hope I make it through another night in my sanctuary.

Labels: cry, depression, how not to be an idiot, insomnia, layers, lockdown, lorazepam, Matthew Good, melancholy, neurotic, pharmacology, Sylvia Plath, writing, zopiclone

headphones and legs
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Jeff Buckley waking me up. He did a poor job (not his fault) and I slept through two of my alarms. And now the car won't start. It's just bad heaping on more bad. Now I bet the rest of the day will be less than stellar since I had a bad night.

I reached out to someone and was ignored. I'm told by others this is common enough. That he's selfish, etc. But I didn't care about any of that, my feelings were hurt and for the first time he's completely disappointed me. Despite that, I will never be one of those naysayers who won't support him and the difficulties he's going through. I won't be one of the ones that turns away because of this.

But fuck, it totally hurt my feelings. And it made me cry. Ugh, I hate saying that.
You'd think at my age, I'd get used to a squished ego or bruised heart by now, huh?
I guess not.

Labels: cry, how not to be an idiot, neurotic

Dear Cowboys,
I haven't felt like I have anything interesting to say. Then someone tells me that Prince did a bunch of old songs at the Superbowl thing. I'm not a Superbowl kind of girl so I would have never seen it.

God Bless Youtube.
And Prince.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iK4EwxRLiik

I've been on this Prince kick since the original Apostle reminded me of the Purple Rain album. I even rented Purple Rain on pay-per-view last week. Then I had a good cry because someone didn't like where I was from (long story, not worth telling again).

My temporary job hours are killing me. I spend most days trying to sleep, except I keep hearing this ringing. By the time I finally figure out it's the phone, the person has hung up. I call Craig back because I miss him and leave him message. Then he calls me right back and we chat. He wrote a song called 'Nothing and Everything' for me and it's going on his new album. I'm a tiny bit afraid to find out what the song says, but curious as well. In my incapacitated state, I told him I just wanted him here, now in my bed to cuddle. It's something like -30 with the windchill around here lately. And I just can't get warm.

I've been eating popcorn and cupcakes for dinner a lot lately. Bad, I know. But quick, satisfying and that's all I'm after right now. I'm on a mission to take some photographs for a theme at The Cooperation. I have my song titles and I'm almost ready to shoot. I just need a few...erm...things first. I'm going to have way too much fun with this.

I have to spend some time with Buckley before he forgets I'm the boss, and show my face in the living room so my television set remembers me.
Love,
G.

Labels: cold, Craig Bancroff, cry, Gish, inspiration, photography, Prince, song