After THE worst breakup

My tongue is bleeding
From holding it between my teeth
To stop me from telling you
Exactly what I think

I reminisce of days gone by
You took all my memories
And made the happy ones sad

I didn’t realize till you were gone
How mizerable I was
How much I worried about you

oh-

I found the pictures of the other girls
I never thought I’d sit idly by
And take it

You were so special
You were my true love
We were meant to be together
Too bad you don’t care enough
To see it through
To make it work

And the worst part is
And “it’s so hard to explain” is
I can’t bring myself not to love you

I don’t have a date for this, but I know exactly when it was.

I started dating a guy in my first year of university. We moved in together in the summer between 1st and 2nd year. After I moved in, I got a message from someone saying that she’d seen him and one of her friends together in a chatroom, being -too- close for him being in a relationship. I probably should have confronted him then, but I had another year ahead of me of this shit. Throughout the year, there were more and more women.  More pictures, more video. It’s not always hard to tell when someone is cheating on you. The sudden secrecy and possessiveness… He started to make me doubt my own feelings and memories. When I did a simple google search about it, it came back with ‘gaslighting’. It got really bad. I would start going into his texts and emails. Anytime I saw his phone or his laptop, I would drop into a deep panic attack. My whole body would shake, and I would be absolutely filled with dread of what it contained. I was rarely wrong, either. He had a whole separate list for ‘the girls’ in his contacts. He had scads of messages full of nudes and downright pornographic photos and videos of these girls. He told them all that he loved them.
He made me feel like it was my fault, when I finally told him about it. He blamed it all on me, dumped me, and kicked me out. I couldn’t even move out for another month, so we slept in the same room until I could find a place.
I remember after we broke up, one of the girls he used to hook up with that I was ‘friends’ with posted something along the lines of “so we hook up and he never calls me back, what a sack of shit,” and I couldn’t help feeling like… Well? What did you expect? It was two days after we’d broken up, and she knew all about it.

I saw him a few years later. He messaged me on facebook and I figured ‘what’s the harm?’ Well, he never changed. His girlfriend called while he was at my house, and I listened to him give her the same sorry lies he told me. “Yes, I’m at staples! I don’t know, it doesn’t sound like it, because my phone has noise cancellation. Yeah, I can take a picture when I get outside and send it to you, but I’m at the back of the store talking to the guy, so I don’t want to leave and go do that right now. I’ll talk to you later.” He turned to me and asked me where the nearest Staples was. I told him to get the fuck out of my house. As he was leaving he tried to kiss me. I turned so he only got my cheek, but he already had his arms around me. I was furious.

And he’s just tied for first with another relationship I had.

From Livejournal- Feb 18 2012- Age 20

Oh man… I’m gonna be SO broke by the time I get home! D:

Morning was just the usual: Lounge by the pool LOL I think i’m starting on a tan! :o (I’m still pasty as hell, but it’s a start LOL)

I think that as a Canadian I have a lot of… political correctness bred into me. I find a number of things in the States a little offensive, if you will, to my sensibilities. On the way to the mall, we passed Plantation ave. I was kinda shocked, like… really? Is that ok? o.o;

I went to Hot topic today! :D It was just as good as I’d hoped it would be! SUPER SALES! The most expensive thing I bought there was a pair of buckley boots and they were only 50$ :D:D wickedddddd XD I also got a bunch of tees and a gothic lolita dress. It was only 20$!!! :o I also FINALLY GOT RED EYESHADOW! @o@; (I’ve been searching for years, and the only other one I found (but did not buy) was the one from M.A.C. and it was like a bajillion $$$) Then we went to the music store to look for Infected Mushroom, but they had none (no real surprise there) but i got myself a Master Chief teeshirt. Then we came home and met up with Nick’s mum and his sister.

We all went out to Bells and went for more shopping @_@ I wasn’t really planning on getting anything else, but the stuff there was SO GOOD D: I bought a bunch of cute teeshirts and I was talking with Nick’s mum about what to wear to D*sney, and all I have here are skirts and a pair of jeans. She pointed out that it was going to be WAY too hot for jeans, but i don’t have shorts and skirts… not so good for roller coasters… So i went and looked for some jean capri pants. I found three really nice ones with little diamantes on it. I took them into the changeroom to check (cause I have a huge ass, so jeans and pants in general fit weird on me) but all three fit SO WELL so I bought all of them. And I found some Maryjane-style high-heeled sneaker-type shoes that are black with neon polkadots >w< kehe and everything was so cheap~ @_@ Uhm after that i went to Costco to get a 4G sandisk card.

For dinner, the four of us met up with Sally and her son at Carabba’s Italian Grill. Speaking of my poor poor Canadian sensibilities… During dinner, her son was talking about a couple of guys whose wives had gone out and they were gonna knock back some tequila and grill a steak or something, and his comment on that one was “What a couple of homos, right?” My immideate reaction was to verbally slap him silly, but I held my tongue, present company kept in mind. It really makes me rather irate though- that sort of thing really bothers me.

Anyway, the food itself was EXCEPTIONAL. D: The food… oh maaaaaan *flomps* it was SO MUCH but it was SO GOOD!

After dinner, Nick’s mum and sister needed to go to the Publix and Nick and I went into the Radioshack, and I got myself a new digital camera :3 :3 :3 yay!!

Can’t wait to start snappin’ some pix! XD

(Then I came home, hopped on Ragnarok and after defeating Hatii, I made myself the Angel helm … which is totally not relevant, but a small victory for me nonetheless ^^ )

——————————

And then we went to Disney, I cried during the fireworks, we went home, and I found out he cheated on me with a not-insubstantial number of girls. Whoops.

From Livejournal- Feb 17 2008- Age 20

Ardith’s Florida Vacation
Day 1

So I get here and I’m cold and tired and wet… but then again I just got out of the pool and slept by the poolside for about an hour. :D This place is wicked. You know those times you look at those home & travel magazines and say to yourself… I wish I was there. This is EXACTLY like that only I’m HERE and it’s WAY better than I could’ve imagined.

Nick and I woke up first thing this morning, and rolled out of bed into our clothes, packed the car and drove to the airport. After a quick drive-through breakfast from McDonalds, I felt a bit better. I’ve been getting myself so excited about this trip, I’ve been making myself sick! (Nothing too bad, just a little queasy.) Anyway, after we got to the airport, we had to go through this line and that line, say this say that lalala… on the customs forms, it was asking you what you were bringing in (if anything) and one of the headings was “Disease Agents, Bacteria Cultures or Snails”. … Wth? How do snails fit into the equation? Seriously, someone explain this to me.

Anyway, on the plane, I just watched some movie with Martin Short where (i think his name is Dennis McQuaid?) gets shrunk and goes inside him in a submarine-y thing… eh anyway, I fell asleep for about an hour, woke up then played some DoTA. When we were getting ready to go, the guy came on the PA and said “Please be careful when you open your overhead compartments. During the flight there might have been some movement, and they may be excited to see you.” XD

Anyway, when we landed it was about 29*C, and humid, but surprisingly not uncomfortable. I really thought I was going to be sick the whole time I was down here because of the heat, but it’s just like being inside a great big greenhouse. (smells like it too!) I SAW PALM TREES! :D zomg. so cool! XD and i have Hibiscus flowers right outside my window. REAL ONES.. like… the tree! :O they’re SO PRETTY! And the sunset was AMAZING and the moon was SO BRIGHT!@o@ (but I digress)

So after we got off the plane, Sally came and picked us up. (I finally got to meet Sally! yay! ^^) And she drove us to our house. IT’S HUGE. and SO SOSOSOSOSO amazing. The ceilings… if it wasn’t a bungalow, i’d describe them as vaulted. (FREAKING HUGE!) and the cabinets in the kitchen are a nice dark cherrywood.

And then there’s the backyard. oh. my. god. I’m in love. It’s all patio, and fully screened in (Like a sunroom… with screen instead of glass) so no bugs can get in. You’ll NEVER guess what I saw when I walked around the screen (on the inside). Tiny lizards! OMG they’re SO CUTE! I love lizards so much >.< I’ve never seen them in their natural habitat before. (We don’t really get them in Canada! lol) Anyway, the backyard… yeah it’s a patio, but it’s a patio around a POOL AND HOTTUB!!! The hottub is round and a little higher than the pool and intersects with the pool and when you turn the fountain on, water pours over the lip of the cutout in the hottub’s wall. @_@ it’s a slice of heaven. No exaggeration. I’m talking honest-to-god lap of luxury. All I need now is a hot manservant! OH WAIT! (hahaha i’m kidding :* ilu Nick XD)

Anyway, after lounging in the pool, getting out, crashing beside the pool, then getting dressed, we all went out to dinner with Sally and her son. We went to a Japanese food restaurant where they cook the food right in front of you, and do a little show while they do it and stuff. SO GOOD D: I was disappointed in the Unagi sushi (it kinda tasted like lake…) but the filet mignon was so-ho-hoooo good XD  mm MM! I ate a little too much so now i’m all bloaty and don’t feel too good, but… TOTALLY WORTH IT D:

When we got home, Nick and i crashed in the hottub, came inside, watched the end of the Nascar race (*shrug*) and now here i am, signing off at 11:20, ready for a good night’s sleep and another full (hopefully~) day tomorrow!
20
^^

———————————-

Also known as that time I dated a rich guy’s son. Oh wait for it…

Here & Now Part 1: 1/8/12

To say that this has been a hell of a week is putting it mildly.

Thursday I had my appointment with my family doctor. I’ve been feeling sick (wet coughing), but mostly because the nice folks at the government offices don’t/didn’t believe that I have ‘issues with anxiety’. They don’t have papers, ok, fair enough. Guess I could just be someone who’s fucking the system. Here’s the thing though, I’m not. I now have the papers to prove it. There’s so much to say about finding out that I have Panic Disorder. I’ll try to keep it all… in order. More or less.

‘So you have panic disorder.’

There’s no such book. Well… ok, there probably is, but I sure as shit wouldn’t read it. I have this horrible habit of being arrogantly independent. This all stems from a number of things all through my life, which I’ll get to… some other day. I was a hyperactive kid who didn’t figure out that she was really a girl until about grade 6, my father left when I was 15, and I continue to this day to make bad life choices.

Hi. My name is Ardith and I’m a bad life-choice-maker.

Hello Ardith.

Not to get too philosophical, but I’m torn between feeling like it’s not my fault, that I’m a product of my genetics and my environment, and feeling like yes, there are a number of choices that I made that I could, maybe, probably have made better. Then again, it could be both. It’s like there’s a marked divide between my wealth of logic and my impulse. Impulse is a beast that rises from below. It wears the mask of fun and frivolity, but in truth it ranges from the 7$ ice cream cone you really didn’t want to spend that much on, to the one night stand gone wrong. Maybe I’m just damning myself by bringing it up at all. Really, it leaves you open to blame me for everything wrong in my life. I’d like to think I’m not, but I know I am responsible for it.

Side-tracked. Finding out that I have panic disorder. Right. So.

So I find out I have panic disorder. It’s okay, though, it’s not like it’s a huge surprise. Kind of affirming, really- it’s nice to have it on paper now. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come face to face with someone who thinks that because I know that something is wrong with me and because I’ve gone and researched it, and can therefore hold forth eloquently about it, it means I must be faking, or it must not be as bad as I’m making it out to be. Look up any symptom online and you have cancer, right? No, I’m not utterly lazy, I actually have gotten to the point where I’m debilitated by the idea of going out and being a grown-up. Even for things that I want to do.  Nobody wants to go deal with their bank accounts, but I don’t think it sends most people to a 14 hour nap. I don’t think it stops people dead from sending in their art to a position they’re more than qualified because they might be turned down… or because they might actually succeed at something.

I’m choosing to be optimistic about this whole thing. I’ve started taking Wellbutrin. Doesn’t muck with my sex life? Awesome. Keeps me up? Meh. I would never have even considered taking medication if I hadn’t have talked to my aunt. I explained what’s been going on (see: they don’t believe I have panic disorder, and you can probably guess the hellish rigamarole they’ve been putting me through) then went on to explain that I’d been given the papers months ago to go get it affirmed that I have this thing. Well, fair play, but for some reason someone told me that I could go to a councilor, so I made an appointment. I showed up to my appointment, but it turns out the woman at the desk had made an appointment with a ‘general mental health specialist’ instead. No good. I make an appointment with a councilor.

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to book appointments with mental health specialists of any kind, but it usually takes about a month. So I go to my counseling appointment (month 1 of frustration), only to be told that I ‘present well’ and basically she didn’t see that there was anything particularly wrong with me. I’m incredibly bright and I can dress myself well, and I communicate extremely well. So what’s the problem, right? Cue buzzer. Well, she can’t sign my papers, and she won’t refer me to the psychologist or the psychiatrist because she just doesn’t think there’s that much wrong with me.

I make an appointment with my family doctor. It’s a bit of a trek, and in hind-sight I should have just done it in the first place but I thought ‘Hey, if I use the resources through the government program I’m part of, they can communicate between themselves and this will all just be over so much faster. Cue buzzer. The time between my councilor’s appointment and the appointment with my doctor is another month. Another month of the same shit, extended.

So I tell my aunt all about this, and go on to explain how it feels for me. Why I think my councilor’s wrong. I have an anecdote that pretty much encapsulates the whole issue.

My mum took my sister and I to a bakery just around the corner from my grandpa’s place. It’s a bit buffet-style, all open trays with tongs for each tray, and empty bags at the end of each row of trays ready for filling with sweet pastry delights. My mum hands me a few bags and gestures at the trays, then wanders off. It’s the first time being there, and immediately I start to panic. She didn’t tell me how much I could spend. What if I go for everything that I want, it all looks so good, I’ll look like a pig. Mum strolls by casually and sees me picking up a cherry danish. She asks if I’m sure that I want that. I didn’t. I’d panicked, and her comment kicked my tiny furry fit into an avalanche. A… a furry avalanche. Imagine that a tiny furry fit is like a small, fur covered stone, and… look, just work with me on this one. So I feel myself start to lose control. I drop what I had into her basket and ask her as calmly as I could for her keys. She asks why. The air is stifling in here, I just need to get out. She hands me the keys and I’m doing everything that I can not to cry. My mind is racing. She thinks I’m too fat. She thinks I’m being greedy. How could I be so greedy, after she’s taken me out to dinner and bought me new clothes and shoes, and I didn’t need that danish, what on earth was I thinking of, taking that stupid danish in the first place? I don’t even like cherry. Why did I pick it up? Because I’m stupid and I’m greedy, and… and I sit in the car and cry. How embarrassing. Twenty-four, and crying in the back of a silver Toyota Echo, in the middle of a Toronto parking lot, in the middle of the day. I’m not being beaten, I was just asked if I was sure if I wanted that danish.

I’m sitting in the couch seat, feet tucked up under me, embarrassed and crying again as I tell my aunt about it. My mum and grandad stare at me, a little startled looking. My aunt nods. She tells me my uncle has the same kind of thing, and asks if I’ve considered medicating. I’ve considered it but I’m so afraid that I’ll lose everything that I am. My creative drive. My emotions, passion… everything that I feel makes me, me. She tells me not to rule it out. I’m not ruling it out I just don’t want… I’m just so afraid. I’m afraid of the pills that can take that fear away. She shakes her head and calls my uncle in, asks him to tell me about his experience with going on his medication.

My uncle is basically my favourite person in the world. He’s the reason I became an artist in the first place. Aside from my mother, of course, who nurtured me and my wealth of creativity from the get-go, but I mean in a real, self-defining kind of way. She nurtured my writing and my art and my talent for music and dance and basically anything that I wanted to do… but I chose art. I almost typed something sickly sentimental like ‘and it chose me’ but that’s not true. I’ve been working hard since I was in grade 5 to be an artist, specifically. He showed me the breakdown of how to draw Thumbelina, which he’d actually worked on. Start with a circle, line across to mark where the eyes go, line down the center of the face, draw the outline of the forehead, cheeks, chin, jaw, ear. Add eyes, nose, mouth, hair. It was like a light being switched on. Through the years we’ve gotten together mostly for big occasions, and I always treasure that time. He’s a never ending well of wit and awe-inspiring imagination and skill. He is the bar by which I mark myself- what I aspire to.

So he unfolds the spare chair and sits next to me as I wipe off my face with a tissue. He tells me how when he started on it, it totally neutralized him for the first four weeks. Nothing scared him, and nothing really mattered either. Something horrible or equally wonderful could happen and it would be a shrug-off. After, though, things normalized, but he still felt he had a bit of cushioning between where he wanted to be, and that awful feeling of your heart dropping. It’s what I needed to hear.

I asked my doctor what meds would be best for me, and related the stories I’ve just told. She listened intently. We discussed that while the brand that my Uncle takes could work for me, as we are blood-relatives, it would likely be better for me to take Wellbutrin due to being in a long-term relationship. I wouldn’t have even thought to ask about how it would affect my sex drive and I’m immensely, and immediately grateful that she caught that.

When I tell her the story about my bakery break-down she asks if my mind often goes to the worst possible scenario. You know how sometimes you’re looking at a picture of rocks and you spot one crab, and suddenly the whole picture is full of crabs? It was kind of like that. My whole thought process popped into stark clarity. My idle fascination with thoughts of careening into dividers in horrible fiery death while sitting in the passenger seat of a car. Imagining full-blown scenarios in which men try to break into the car and steal it while I’m waiting for my mother in the parking lot. Those are just regular daydreams.

It’s not like my tendency to go for the worst hasn’t been guided by a long string of events culminating in a number of abusive relationships. Some of them I knew exactly what I was getting into. I have a sort of sick fascination with hurting myself from the inside-out. I never could get the hang of cutting. Couldn’t be bothered. I had friends that did, but it never was followed by the same deep, sweet self-loathing that I could attain through just thinking about all the stupid shit I’d done in my life. The near-romance of being a fuck-up. The confused whirl of being both a very good and very bad person all at once. What can I say, I’m a multi-tasker.

My life is a bit of a soap opera, and I’ve done a good portion of it to myself. Some of it no-one deserves to go through. Some of it I’ve been debating about sharing. There’s a real peril in losing the sentiment behind the words.

So, I realize my brain goes weird places, and often. No, just because Ned has been being a little distant the past couple of days doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love me anymore. It means he hasn’t been sleeping or eating properly because he’s been dealing with me being in the hospital… (I’ll get to that tomorrow) …but that’s where my brain goes. My brain goes from zero to death faster than you can get your whole thought out. Now that I’m aware, I’m trying to rein it in. We’ll see how that goes.

This is day 5 of taking Wellbutrin. Still no real change. Can’t sleep but that’s not new. Well, actually I should go sleep now. There’s just so much to get out but my eyes feel like they’ve been replaced by bags of sand.

Tomorrow. Enough for now.

From Blogger- Feb 9 2012- Age 24

Hi. It’s me, Ardith.

I’d like to take a moment to talk about … my own experiences. Be warned: this may get a little rambly.

I want to start by saying that if this touches you, if you need someone to talk to. Even if what you’re experiencing has nothing to do with what I’ve experienced, and you just need someone. Anyone. I’m here.

In the following, there may be content that will make you uncomfortable. Maybe even lose respect for me. I’ve done some shitty things in my life that I don’t support. But I did them for a reason, and that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Trying to deal with these things. Feeling lost in our own skin. I’ve been there. I’m still there. I’m still a good person. If you’d rather not know, and I can’t blame you, please don’t read on.

Let’s just get it out there: I’ve got anxiety issues, mainly stemming from, what my councillor described as “severe female-pattern adult ADHD”. I also frequently suffer from bouts of depression.

Let’s start with the ADHD.

When I was a child, I had male-pattern ADHD. What this means is I was hyperactive. “Attention span of a gnat” as my mother would say. Adventurous. Dangerously so. Extremely active. Very bright, but could never do the work that was needed. I was always well behaved, in my own way, though, having avoided the oppositional-defiant-disorder that often goes hand-in-hand with ADHD. ADHD, when it is let to run its course, changes through the teenage years. I am often dismissed when I say I have ADHD. “But you’re so calm!” Yes. That’s one of the possible outcomes of growing up with it. I’m mostly quite calm, with a great ability to focus. Sometimes. What it is, is my ability to focus on many things. By ability, I mean need to. I have dual monitors on my computer. I can’t ever be working on one thing, with nothing else going on. I always eat with a movie or TV show playing. I’m always browsing plurk or facebook while working in SL. When I don’t have many things going on, I get restless and anxious. Ah, anxiety. This too comes with growing up with ADHD. The depression comes from having ADHD, anxiety, and some unfortunate circumstances. I also have a very mild case of OCD when my anxiety gets bad. Books and stacks of coins out of order can make me cry.

My grade one teacher tried putting my desk in the corner, and I would create imaginary worlds out of the papers and strange looking cracks on the wall in front of me. She tried putting me on a disciplinary rubric. She tried putting me on a bribery rubric. “If you behave for a whole half hour, you can win this butterfly pencil!” (I only ever won that one butterfly pencil.) Eventually, by second term, she gave up entirely. She let me play with the puppets, and when I was too rowdy, she’d send me into the hall to do cartwheels.

I figureskated, did karate, soccer, horseback riding, track and field. I learned to play just about every instrument I could get my hands on. I was the kind of kid who got in trouble for reading too much. I never had tv, which is probably for the best because when I was younger it was very difficult for me not to pay attention to every bright, moving thing.

All in all, for me, my childhood was great. I say for me, because I’ve been told on many occasions that I caused a great deal of anxiety for my parents. “Oh god there’s our four year old child 70 feet up in that pine tree over there,” or “Jesus H. Christ, there she goes, running across the monkeybars.” My mother never put me on ritalin or any other drug. Until I was well into elementary school, I was on an entirely organic diet. My mother would not have anyone dismissing my behaviour. “Well maybe you feed her too much sugar?” No. “You know red dye…” No. “And the chemicals…” NO.

My childhood gave me a wealth, a bounty that I am greatful for. An active imagination. Activities to stimulate body and mind. Creativity, words, love! A mother who fought for me. A wonderful sister, 7 years my junior, who has (though certainly aggrivating as piss at times) been like a best friend to me when I needed it most. She’s brilliant and beautiful and I’m so proud of her that I’m a little jealous sometimes.

Things took a turn for the worse when I was about 16. My father left, and all my activities went with him. I spent most of my grade 11 cleaning up after him. Literally and figuratively. It was the first year I ever failed a course in school. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass that I failed grade 11 university-level math. I was too busy trying to get my mother out of bed in the mornings. Listening to her cry herself to sleep. Being the mother that my mum couldn’t to my young sister.

I became a serial monogamist. I still am, really. I think the longest I’ve been single for since grade 10 is a span of about 7 months… and that wasn’t 7 months without sexual activity. I dated several guys in a row before things went badly. I got cheated on and dumped for the first time, the summer between my second year of university and my first year of college. I took it hard. He cheated, dumped me and took all my friends with him. I was barely able to get out of bed in the morning. Most days I didn’t. I could usually manage three, maybe four days of being out of the house for a few hours during the day before I collapsed again. Of course, at school I was charming and witty and brilliant. Fun to have at parties. Darling conversation over lunch. I had never before contemplated suicide… but I did off and on. I thought about what it might be like. What would people say? Would they miss me? All I could think about was my beautiful sister and my wonderful mother and how broken they would be if I did something like that. Despite anything else, I did also have friends. They would be devastated. I could never hurt anyone else like that, no matter what I was going through. I would suffer through it so they would never feel that pain. And I did. I suffered. I wrote angsty poetry and songs. I slept with an embarrassing number of guys.

Now, that’s another interesting thing I learned from my shrink. Promiscuity is just one of the lovely things that I deal with that stems directly from what she, again, referred to as “severe female-pattern adult ADHD”. Admittedly, there have been a few times where promiscuity and serial monogamy have overlapped. I won’t brush it off, blaming it on my disorders. I did bad. I know I did. I love my current partner to death, you who have me on plurk know this. I haven’t cheated on him, but it’s still difficult sometimes. That’s awful to say, isn’t it? But it’s true. “Why don’t you just stop? Push those feelings away?” I wish I could. “Doesn’t he treat you well enough?” He treats me better than anyone could ever hope for, and more. “Then why do you still want to fuck other guys sometimes?” I don’t know. I don’t. There’s no easy answer. Trust me, I’ve googled. The important thing is that I don’t. While the feelings may make me feel absolutely helpless in my own body, they can’t be helped. My actions can. I keep busy.

The worst part for me is knowing WHY I do what I do. I’ve studied psychology. I’m intelligent enough to hold forth on the subject. I watch myself from the outside in, doing things, which makes it feel nearly beyond my control. If I know what I’m prone to do, why can’t I just NOT DO IT? Why can’t I NOT be a statistic? Why can’t I break away from these ‘daddy issues’ and bullshit that comes with, what I cringingly call ‘mental disorders’? If I KNOW what I’m doing, WHY I’m doing, why can’t I just NOT? I wish I knew.

Through all this writing, I am trying my best not to disqualify myself. I read an article not long ago that described how people tend to devalue their feelings by dismissing them. “Oh, I must be PMSing” or “But I have ADHD so whatever”. I am who I am. I feel what I feel. All of it… all of this is for a reason. Every experience culminating in myself at present.

And you know what?

I’m pretty alright.

Sure I still have bad times. Really bad times. Dark days. Dark weeks. Months… I’ve been stuck, afraid of moving forward for almost two years, dealing with depression and anxiety. I can’t tell you there’s a fix. It’s day by day, but what gets me through it is knowing I’m not alone. I have my friends in SL. I have my friends in RL. I have my boyfriend. I have my sister and my mother. I have people to support me that I don’t even know about.

I am not alone.

YOU are not alone.

I want to be better, and though I know I will never stop having anxiety and depression, I can change the world around me to help me cope. My anxiety attacks are rare now that I’m in a stable, healthy relationship. My depression comes and goes, but it is no longer crippling. I can’t concentrate for shit, but I start work sooner.

The ouroboros is the symbol of rebirth. The cycle of life. To me, it’s the symbol of continuous motion. We are neither the head nor the tail, but we are both and everything in between. Every day is a new day, as they say. We evolve with every experience, moving towards tomorrow.

So love yourself, despite all your flaws. Accept what you can, do what you can to change what you can’t. Know that you are not ever alone.

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Written for an event having to do with mental health.

From Blogger- March 3 2010- Age 22

At the end of grade eight, Marek and I went on the grad trip together. On the way home from Canada’s Wonderland, we were holding hands under our coats, and that is how we started dating. Over the summer we had our first kiss in my back yard. We hung out a lot and did all of those cute things when you first start dating. It was sweet while it lasted.

Highschool… In grade eight I remember how worried everyone was about how different it was going to be. I was only ever excited, ready to be out of that “small pond” hell-hole called elementary school. Shortly after starting highschool, Christina decided to switch to Chrys.

Chrys and I had a bunch of classes together, and slowly we added to our group of friends. Our main addition was Lorin. Lorin (at the time) had long dyed black hair, and a real FOAD kind of attitude. She was in our english class and I always admired her drawings. (Chrys and I were both into drawing and anime at that point). Chrys had biology with Lorin and told me that she found her frightening. Being the social butterfly that I was back then, I ignored Chrys and started to talk to Lorin. The three of us made up this strange little group of neurotic misfits… but we worked. New friends came and went, and rotated between us and the other group of our friends… kind of like a Venn Diagram, of sorts.

Marek broke up with me on the way to English class not too long before my birthday. I was talking to him recently (we’re still friends) and he told me that in class I stood up, threw a book at him, yelled “WELL I GUESS IT WAS ALL A LIE THEN” and ran out of the classroom sobbing. All I remember is crying in the girl’s bathroom and Chrys coming to check on me.

I joined the school play in grade 9. We did the Sadako story. I think it was called 1000 cranes. Chrys was the assistant director, so when the girl playing Sadako dropped out, Chrys filled in. I was the main character’s sister.

Later, around the beginning of second semester, Chrys, Brody, Lorin and I (Along with a few other friends) started hanging out in the math/computer room on the third floor. There was a guy that started hanging out with us because he had a small crush on Chrys. Brewster wore goggles every day, was in the gifted program, and was a nerdy, happy kind of guy. After a while, we started dating and, as far as I remember, whe had our first kiss between the two classrooms in the computer repair area. (Basically a long closet filled with old CPUs and busted monitors.) His father got a job in Alberta and after only a month of us dating, he moved away. We continued to date long distance. He came back for about a month during the summer and we went on lots of dates and daytrips.

Grade 9 for me is just a bunch of bits and pieces of memories. Nothing terribly linear overall.

Chrys and I pretended we were lesbians after someone made an ignorant snide comment about how “close” we were.

Amy, Chrys, Tyler and I danced on the art room tables, singing Stand By Me on the last day of classes.

 

Chrys apparently started using “Chrys” before highschool.

So… it’s interesting to see how I’ve misremembered some things. Maybe I should actually start keeping one again…

From Blogger- Feb 28 2010- Age 22

But first, let’s catch up on the whole “boyfriend” thing.

In the FI (french immersion) class, we were a pretty tight-knit group. Pretty much a family. In the group of guys I hung out with on occasion there was Brody, Phillip and Marek. (There was also Cameron at one point but he moved away)

In grades 1&2 I had a huge crush on Phillip and would kiss him every chance I got. Just cute kid kisses, mind you. I actually tackled him and skinned his face on valentines day in grade one. Let’s just say the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Sometime in grade 2 I started to have a crush on Cameron, and that lasted a number of years. I asked him to be my valentine once and I got an “I guess”. Then he dated Christina. Then he asked me to ask another girl out for him. Then I realized… it was about damn time to move on.

Brody and I dated for a whole week in grade 8. We decided it was weird, while we sat together on the wooden border of the playground, and broke it off.

Shortly after that I joined a theater group. We put on a Midsummer Night’s Dream. I was a fairy.
Just as a bit of reference, At this time, I was into dance music, glitter and butterfly clips. I’d never kissed a boy. I’d never fallen in love. Felt lust. Masturbated. Had my period…
And there was Zach. Same age as me. Tall, blond, devastatingly gorgeous, troubled, a total badass with a smirk that would make my knees jelly. For almost the whole production he saw me as one of his ‘guy friends’. He would tell me about all of his girl troubles at school. I would always hug him and console him. He’d tell me deep dark secrets and I relished every second of it. Then he started hanging around one of the other (older) girls. She had a boyfriend, but they started to get pretty heavy. Thirdwheel’d. After a while she decided she couldn’t have him on the side and ditched. Guess who was there to console him. Oh yay. Sometime after that, I decided to become pro-active. Wear cuter clothing. Be flirtier. Play the game.
I was looking through my diary from that time a while ago and I actually have a whole page covered in lipgloss kisses, all marked and labeled. “Too greasy” “too much colour” “Not tasty!” For the tech rehearsal, I decided to wear my favourite (low-cut) top, cute embroidered jeans and I did my makeup and hair. Nothing atrociously trampy, mind. Just enough to look like I hadn’t done anything but still looked stunning. Well he noticed. On our break, he invited me to come chat in the back of the band shell. It was a brand new band shell and they hadn’t put any electrical in yet. So there we were, the two of us, sitting on opposite sides of the small room. Him on a chair- me on a table- the door cracked a few inches to let in the daylight. After a few minutes of just listening to my heart pound in my ears, he shifted and looked at me, raised an eyebrow and said “Why don’t you come sit on my lap. We can talk about … whatever pops up.”
My heart raced, my mouth went dry. I looked at him, thankful for the dark, and said as convincingly as I could “Why don’t you come over here?”
He walked towards me, pushing the door closed as he walked by. He cupped my face in his hands and started to kiss me. Slowly at first, then he slid his hand around the back of my head and kissed me passionately.
I hear about other people’s first kisses, and… Mine was amazing. Exhilarating. My knees were still shaking the next morning. We talked about it after we were done. He wanted to know if I wanted to date. Oddly, I said no. We were from different towns, and he was a bit of a womanizer (already, at 13). I think that must have been a bit of a thorn in his paw. I don’t think he’d ever really been turned down as such before. We didn’t really talk much after that.

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Interesting to read about how I remember Zach vs what seemed to really have happened… Hmm