Please, Somebody Turn Off That Radio!

I don't usually care what people listen to on their iPods or radios, but please will "The Man" stop subjecting me to the torture of repetitive holiday music? Today is 24 December, 2011 and I have been forced to endure a whole month of this! So glad it is over. Hopefully, they will change Muzak before I get to work on Monday. I swear those carols have a way of boring into ones ear and get stuck in the brain, churning around until it seems the brain matter will become mush.

Speaking of work, guess who was kept on as permanent? Go on, guess! Kill joys... I was kept on and will be moving to Hardware and Housewares. If all goes well, I can transfer to the new store that will be opening near my house in a few months. It would be nice to work so close. I can walk to work! Save on gas money.

We'll see how things go.

TWLOHA

It was brought to my attention that TWLOHA --To Write Love On Her Arms-- seems to exclude men. The organization is a non-profit that helps and brings attention to self injury, namely in females. But this is inaccurate. Half the self harmers I know are male, making them feel isolated. I sent an email to them in hopes that they add men and boys to the site as a focus.

About a quarter of the population injure, that group is about fifty-fifty between the genders. Self harm used to be a female coping mechanism, but then men started to open up more and show that self injury effects everyone.

Quiet Time

I've been awake since about nine this morning, late for me. I'm usually up at around 7.30. I studied my Watchtower and did the Bible reading for the week, for which I must have either silence or classical music. I went with silence today because I could not be bothered to mess with the music. Once finished with study, I picked up a book. Girl, Interrupted by Suzanna Kaysen. Its November, after all. I always seem to read this book in November and about once a year. Started it this morning and already almost through. I find satisfaction in being able to read a book in a day.

Back to the quiet time. I'm not sure how I'm feeling today and just want to be quiet for a once. I want to curl in a comfy chair and read and forget that there is Black Friday coming, that I will have almost no sleep before that day. My shift on Thanksgiving ends at 6.30 in the evening. The next day, if it can be called that, starts at 1.30 in the morning. Less then eight hour's turn around. I guess I am taking the quiet now while I can get it.

I think a part of me is worried about my next therapy session. I have to tell her what my goals for therapy are. She wants to know if and what I hope to accomplish in the time I spend with her. I want to feel free to trust people, to be okay with failure and to have better coping skills. I want to feel safe in the quiet again, without things going off in my head. Lately, I've noticed that I'm having difficulty with patterns, namely a striped shirt that my father wears. Its dark green and white stripes, thin stripes. They seem to bend and twist in an unnatural sort of way and it bugs the hell out of me. I see those stripes and my skin crawls. Its like hearing a music box, another thing I associate with being crazy. I wish he wouldn't wear that shirt.

I wonder if I will ever find a quiet place in my head that I can enjoy whenever I want. I'm tired, exhausted of living up to the expectations that others have forced upon me. I want to find that quiet and be pleased. I have those moments, usually when I am studying Scripture. Maybe that is the trick to it all. Shift my focus, instead of seeking what is inside--namely a dark expanse that I am unfamiliar with-- I should focus on Scripture and worship. Inner peace. Isn't that what we all seek?

Goals Of Therapy

My therapist wanted me to come up with a goal, an end plan for the therapy. What am I working towards? I have been giving this much thought and I have come up with something, well a few things. I want to learn how to trust people without fear of betrayal. I would like to simply accept that I am not perfect and that I never will be. The fact also remains that I need better coping skills then cutting or burning.

I burned today and was in a grand mood all day. I think I may be on the high note of bipolar. If not then this "high" is a byproduct of self harm... again. When is this going to end? Probably not until I start talking to my therapist and stop talking in damned circles!

Yes, Mother

I was hired on a retail giant and mother was so thrilled. She also wants me to keep both jobs, retail and the call centre. I told her last night that there was a very real possibility that I may be canned for not being available enough at the call centre. She didn't like that. She wants me to keep both jobs and burn myself out basically. If I miss a meeting or two of worship, she will gripe that I am putting work ahead of God. She has done this before and I hate it.

I'm just so fed up with everything!

Retail Hell

I have orientation at Walmart next week and thus starts the holiday retail hell. Its temporary but I may get hired on as a regular associate. I'll keep the call centre job because it pays more and offers a level of security. So it looks like I may be having trouble trying to maintain the therapy sessions. Its good she can see patients on three days a week, but what if I work all those days? I'll cross that bridge as I get to it.

All I want to do today is watch Mythbusters and write pathetic poetry. A sample of such will follow this post. I'm feeling unmotivated. All I want to do is curl up and watch tv. I am forcing myself to not go back to bed and just curl in a ball. Not really sure what is wrong with me. Maybe the dread of yet another holiday season in retail hell. If you have never worked retail during the Christmas season, then you truly have no idea what its like.

And now for your cultural delight, I give you Puppet Master.

Marionett

puppet controlled 

by other hands

pulling strings

and making me dance

to a music 

I don't understand. 

Even Pinocchio got to choose.

But not me, 

always being tugged,

manipulated

into doing things,

saying things that

are unnatural

as a puppet 

on a string.

Anger Turned Inward

So I went to therapy today and told her that I feel like I'm talking in circles, she agreed but said that kind of thing was normal. Part of learning to trust is talking in those circles, her job is kind of like being  a detective and waiting to see what happens. I also mentioned my fear of therapy: What if there is no underlying trauma that started all this? What if there is? I'm not sure which is more frightening.

I was also told something today that has stuck in my head and keeps coming back up again when I let my mind wander. "Depression is anger turned inward". That struck me, hard. She's right. I take things too harshly, too severely. Every mistake is a failure and I don't handle failures well.

Oh I cannot wait until my next therapy session...

Bicycles and Taxes

I was thinking about this the other day and I have an idea. Part of a vehicle's yearly registration goes to maintaining the roadways. Most of my city's major roadways have a bike lane, which the cyclists do not have to pay for. Most of the people that ride bikes here do not own a car and therefore do not pay those fees for maintenance.

I think it would be a good idea for every one that owns a bicycle, that is over the age of twenty-one or eighteen, should pay a registration fee every year. My van costs me $80 a year, not including the smog check. I think a mere $20 a bicycle is fare. This would also mean that the same cyclists could potentially be ticketed for failure to stop at a light or sign, failure to signal properly and so on. Fees incurred could do wonders for a city's income and bottom line. As a driver and a bike owner, I would have to pay both fees and would willingly do so.

I wonder if I should bring this up to city counsel?

Breaking Point

I hate this job. I have to get the hell out of here before it kills me! Sitting in that damned chair being constantly told how many fucking mistakes I make is just too much! I injure almost daily, usually by picking or scratching at my wrists or backs of my hands. I'm becoming a wreck.

Every one has a breaking point and I am almost at mine. This place is beyond my breaking point. So instead of breaking I bend as far as I can using a blade to do it. All I want to do tonight is cut, to calm my brain. I fake the smile for my parents so they don't see how bad I'm doing. Of course they don't know I'm a cutter anyway so I guess it doesn't matter.

Therapy on Tuesday and I don't know how to say the things I think I need to. Is it all a waste or is the road just really slow?

Masquerade

"Hide your face, so the world will never find you."

A line from The Phantom of the Opera. Everyone is dressed in their finery and wearing masks. The Phantom sings it again near the end of the film. Lately, I feel like all I ever do is wear a mask, one so well designed that the world will never see me, never truly know me. People think that they know who I am and how I tick, what they really know is only what I have allowed them. I don't let people know too much about me because I know me... and I'm not a great soul to know. For goodness sake, I don't even say much to my therapist!

Its rather sad, in all reality. I wear a mask and lie. What am I to do when the mask is gone?

The Pay Off of Distractions

All right, so we all know I'm an injurer and injurers, when in a bad place, must have a distraction. Keeping the fingers busy on something else while in the middle of a battle with ourselves is really in the best interest. Every injurer that I know has at least one distraction, usually more then just one. Mine include some of the more popular ones such as knitting and writing. I also like to cross stitch. I finally finished one that I started in 2004. In my defense, I set it aside for several years and only recently picked it up again. Well, the work is now finished and I want to share it with everyone. Well, I would like to, but it appears the image is too large for this blog.

Its a geisha holding two fans while standing on a grassy hill under a tree. Mom loves it and wants to have it framed.

Blarg...

I know its been a while and I have no excuse or reason other then I have been lazy. I work in a call centre answering phones and taking messages, so I am loathe to be on the computer when I get home. I hate my job, by the way. Every time I have to work with Fat Sow I end up hurting myself. The woman is a bitch and an abusive one at that. She has this superiority complex that she imposes upon people like me, rookies. She's unnecessarily rude and harsh. If you don't see the answer on the computer, she practically yells in your ear. Every time she tells me I made a mistake, its a hiss in my ear and a I end up clawing my hand so I can take some of the edge off.

I have not gone more then three days without injury since I started this pissy job and I can't afford my therapist at the moment so its one hell of a situation. It sucks! I can't seem to keep calm around her. Fat Sow smells like nicotine and rotted milk! She's filthy, uneducated and disgusting. I hate working with her!! I feel like I'm falling with nothing to hang onto.

Shoulda Woulda Coulda And A Bite In The Ass

A few months ago, I noticed an ad for a manager at a local book shop. I wanted to try for the position, even wrote a cover letter displaying my interest and sent it off. But I was the damned fool that mentioned it to my mother. The shop showed interest in me but I never replied because Mummy didn't think it was a good idea. I was working at Home Depot after all. I had a good job with benefits. But it was the job that she wanted me to take, one I always hated. I took the Home Depot Hell because she wanted me to and it made bother her and dad pleased that I was following in my father's steps.

Now I wish I would have gone ahead and talked to the folks at that book shop. It was what I wanted! And I supposed I'm damned if its something that I want... I'm working at a call centre as a receptionist for a ton of clients. It is not exactly stimulating work. I don't particularly care for the job, but at least its a paycheck.I'm going to keep looking for something else.

Do you want to know what's really funny? Dad is thinking of leaving Home Depot! A job he's had for almost twenty years. Horribly funny... a job I hated from the start and he's finally getting fed up with it.

Drugs and Coffee

I'm strung out. I took a sleeping pill, a muscle relaxer and an Irish coffee last night. Now I'm feeling like I had a bad high, groggy, sluggish. I keep taking blame for things I don't do and its wearing me down. I know its not my fault, but if I don't take the blame then my parents get annoyed with me.

I've been taking sleeping pills too often these days, cutting too much, burning more often. I just turned twenty-seven and my life is a mess. If only my parents knew how my head is... though I'm glad they don't. I'm sure they would kick me on my ear and race me out of town. Its a disgrace to them, I think. I told them once and Dad called me a liar, Mom said nothing at all. So I don't say anything about being an injurer.

I'm beyond tired. I need to get back to therapy. The question is how am I going to afford it without insurance. When I got fired, that took away so much I had worked toward. It was like getting the rug yanked from under me. Now I have to start all over again.

I'm feeling old, tired, half the woman I used to be and not all because I was fired. Just want to curl up and sleep all day.

Woman In A Box

Once upon a time there was a girl, a smart girl. Clever but not beautiful, something she tilted to her advantage. "If you're not beautiful, you can at least be smart," she told herself. So she became invisible. People were always trying to hurt her and she was tired of it. She started to make herself small and seem unknown. The people around her were always trying to get her into a place where they could take advantage of her trust. But when she started to rely on her cleverness and her instincts, she could see how those tricks were going to play out.She used every tool in her possession to protect her back.

Even her own father, a man that she loved, the only one she would ever trust, tried to make her something she could never be. He is forever trying to cram her into this tiny box of "positivity". She is a cynical realist with pessimistic tendencies, "happy" doesn't come into her equations. When she told him that people were always trying to shove her into a box, some preconceived notion of what she should be in their eyes. He told her that no one was trying to do that to her. She didn't tell him that she wasn't, at the moment, talking about everyone else. She was talking about him. He is the one that is trying to cram her into this tiny box! She cannot be that person, that happy slappy fool, grinning from ear to ear like a crazy person on antidepressants.

She will always be herself, because she is the only woman she can trust. She is trying to be strong and follow her instincts. She'll follow the path she feels is right, in spite of everyone.

Reception

Guess who finally got a job after hunting for a month? Yep that would be me! I wanted receptionist work, and I got an answering service. My job is to take messages for various clients. Its hectic work, but I don't mind. At least I'm getting paid.

In other news:

I got a letter from social services today. They want me to take my idiot half brother's kids, the same guy that I have a restraining order against! I don't want those horrid children in my house or my life. They practically destroyed my parents' house, ruined the carpet and tearing holes in the walls! Their sperm donor is a whole other story! The rat bastard threatened to kill me, multiple times. He is evil incarnate, and those people want me to take his spawn?! I think not. I'm halfway tempted to go down to the office and demand that they take my name from his file. I want him out of my life forever, I never wanted him in it!

Racist fucking pig! He's part Lakota and he's a white supremacist? Yeh it confused me too.  Oh how I wish he's just go away, rot or something! Anything!!!

Atonement of Sins

Last night I over heard Mum and Dad talking. She was saying something about me not listening to her when I was a teenager. I had -sin of all sins- called an adult by their first name! Oh the horror! She said that she couldn't believe I'd chosen them over her. I mean really... I was grounded for two weeks because of that. I think I paid for my sin. Now I realize that while she says she forgives, she doesn't really. I get called a bad Christian because of my unwillingness to be around people that I know are gossiping and being unloving, the last a command from Jesus that we are to obey. "You haven't forgiven them, Alki, until you do, you'll never be a Christian."

OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!!! She's the one who's not forgiven anyone! She keeps bringing up all the times that others have hurt her. The fact that she doesn't forget is also unchristian, means she's "keeping an account of the injury". DUH, good Christians aren't supposed to do that.

I can't believe that after all this time, she's still holding that sin over my head. There is no way that I can atone for it either. I already punish myself more then is necessary, what more does she want? Because of the events of last night, I'm not eating this morning. Maybe that could atone? But alas no... nothing will work.

Batman and Me

I spent the afternoon reading about a half dozen Batman graphic novels. I thought it was an afternoon well spent. I rather enjoy reading Batman comics, the legacy of Batman. Tortured hero stories are always something I'm a sucker for. Instead of becoming the monster who forced his pain on others, Bruce Wayne channels that into a different avenue. Saving lives instead of taking them. Sure, he's a moody bastard but he's still a hero.

I know I may be reading too much into it, but I can't help it. Batman will always be my favourite hero, probably because he isn't "super" at all. Clever and strong, yes. But he has no super powers like, say Superman (whom I consider to be an aloof boyscout.). I know Batman can be violent, but he's never killed anyone, not even Joker!

Wow... something tells me I'm really am reading far too much into this. Night all!!

Haven of Peace -poem-

Safe haven? Where?

I've been hunting for my safe haven.
A place where I can be free,
a place where the sun smiles
upon my weary shoulders
and kisses me.

Running from the city
of filth and dirt,
I found a place far from
where I used to be,
far from all the hurt.

Going all through the night,
I stopped by a river bed
longing for a peace
that I fear I'll never see,
nor feel in my head.

If this is the place
where I can finally die
then so let it be.
I am at peace
no need to worry or cry.

Job Hunting

I am getting desperate to find a job. I'm going out of town soon and am hoping to have a job ready when I get back. I'll be out of a work almost a month by that time. Today, I spent all my time on the computer filling out applications. From 1100 till 1700 I was typing, filling in the blanks, and uploading my resume. I swear, I should be getting paid for this!

I have an interview set for teller at a bank. Not bad for a day's labour. I'll probably do it all again tomorrow. Also need to work on that cross stitch for Mom. I've been working on it off and on (mostly off) for the last eight years. Such a slacker I am!

We'll see how things go. I've been doing my part, plus a lot of prayer. All I can do...

Hope and a Prayer

As often as my parents are annoying or simply don't listen to me, there are times when I know that they love me. Since I've lost my job, I have heard nothing but encouragement from them both. "Don't worry too much, you'll get a job. Don't stress too much, it'll all work out."

I haven't the money for cream or sweetener for my coffee, so my dad got me some. Enough to last some time really. He was also sweet enough to let me get a book at the thrift shop yesterday.

Its just extremely stressful trying to get a job in this market. I keep praying on it. Its all I have left...

Forced Day

So far, this is turning out to be one of those days. I call them "Forced Days". You know the ones, where you can't seem to be able to do the most simple things. Getting out of bed, taking a shower and getting dressed in something other then pajamas takes an extraordinary amount of effort. I know I should eat breakfast, but I cannot be bothered with it today. I have to write a few resumes and start sending those to companies today. Who knows?

What I know is that its getting harder and harder these past couple of days not to injure. I burned the other day, and that "helped" in some way. I hate that my brain attaches physical pain as a way to cope with emotional pain and distress. Emotionally I feel a mess.

This is not forever, things will work out, I'll find a job. I have to keep telling myself that. I have to... or else I'll start cutting and burning and only stop when I feel nothing.

Last Time

This morning was hard for me, but then this whole week has been one big kick in the teeth. This morning, I burned in an attempt to calm down. I was shaking and could barely get the match lit. I went to my therapist and told her that I had to cancel my appointments for now. I have no money to spare to pay her. For now, this is the last time that I will see her.

I seriously have about $600 to last me, and it won't last long. I swear the whole damned thing feels like some cosmic joke! I finally get the guts to seek help for my problems and now I cannot go because I don't have the money. I don't like this joke, move on to the next one. I'm hunting for a job, I'm doing my part...

Honestly, I'm scared. I'm twenty-seven years old and almost on the streets. I'm just not willing to deal with this. I have no choice of course. None whatsoever.

Jobless

So yesterday, I was given my walking papers, pink slip, told to take a hike, given that last check. I was fired for what was "aggressive behaviour". I was not being aggressive. I was frustrated, sure, but not aggressive. Hostile, no! But apparently I scared someone or someone had it out for me. The manager never liked me anyway, you see he doesn't like my father. So now I have to go looking for a new job.

It isn't all bad, I hated the job. Now I have the opportunity to find something else. I hope it won't take too long. I had the initial interview for a receptionist this morning. Here's hoping.

Borders Closes It's Doors

Once upon a time, I worked in a book store. The store got a new manager, who really was quite displeased with me. He couldn't understand that I was incapable of up-selling a book that I personally hated. He'd cut my hours to nearly nothing, while I was a key carrier. Hence, I quit and found a new job rather quickly. Five years at the bookshop and now I work in a hardware store.

Borders has been trying to save itself for some time and finally it just wasn't enough. Now they are getting ready to liquidate their holdings. I feel bad for the employees, some of my co-workers are still there. In my area, its hard to find work. I hope they find something that they enjoy doing, unlike myself.

The second thought through my head was this: 'Liquidation means "everything must go". When do the sales start??' I feel badly thinking such a thing, but I can't help it. I'm a bibliophile through and through. If its one thing I collect, its books. I love to read and review books. My other blog, Quill and Ink, is a collection of my reviews. Still, this is going to help out the independent stores in town, with one less big box to go to. We have a Barnes and Noble here and about a half dozen independent book shops. For the time being, I'll have plenty of books to choose from.

I don't want an eReader. I think its blasphemous to read books electronically. Where is the texture, where is the smell? Its not comforting to read like that. I don't feel like I can curl up with a good backlit tablet.

Misplaced

What do you do when you feel like you're here and not here at the same time? Its a strange feeling, to be so in between things. Between yourself and your dreamself. Its weird and I don't care for it. Part of me wants to injure to feel something more tangible. Its just... I don't know what I'm wanting to say.

Bad Start

This is turning out to be a bad day so far. Its only 0642 in the morning and I've woken with a headache. The coffee doesn't taste too great, the butter was rock solid so toast was out... and I'd made the toast assuming that the butter was not in the fridge. I have to work today and would rather stay home.

I want to read a book, or knit, or cross stitch. Anything but go to work. Hell, I'd rather pull weeds in 90F heat then go to fucking work. I hate my job. They don't pay me near enough for all the bollocks I have to put up with. I have to move out some time next year, but am unsure where I shall be acquiring the funds to do so. I'll have to get a room mate, but who? Maybe Ella. If she agrees...

My head is too full of things. I'm still on edge, probably will be all day. I need, or feel like I need, to injure to make the anxiety go away. Can't I just go back to bed? Please, pretty please with a cherry on top?

Anxiety

I feel anxious. Its all I can do to type this evening. My hands are shaking, I have a headache and my feet are wanting to move. My system is just not wanting to calm down. I'm bouncy! Damn it! I'm edgy. I was fine a few hours ago, now I just want to take some of the edge off. Isn't that what junkies say, "Just little taste, man, gotta take the edge off, man..." Feel like a junkie. I want to cut or burn, burn being the "drug" of choice at the moment.

God, I want to... so damn bad right now. Worst part is that I don't even know what's wrong, or why I'm feeling this way. If I use a tool then I can take the edge off and I can sleep easier. As it is, I'll finish my movie then head off to bed and hope for the best. If I can't sleep then I'll go from there.

This is getting tiresome. Anxiety attacks, not quite full blown panic, but there all the same.

Kill The Artists

I've realized, while knowing it all along, why the poets and artists are the first to be "taken care of" in any revolution. We are the ones that will always remember. We are the ones that know from the beginning the ending, from the ending we know the beginning. Its not the historians who carry the memories, its the artists.

We remember what its like to be free. We know how to fly without ever leaving the ground. Artists are the ones that will be here in one way or another long after the rest of thought falls into despair. We may not be the happiest of people, but that is because we see the truth in things. The truth is more harsh then fantasy.

This is why the artists are always the first to go.

Homeless

My parents had to file for bankruptcy due to the massive amount of money that Bozo and Yoda caused them hemorrhage. Neither of them think that they did anything wrong! That's the kicker, they think they were entitled to all of it. All the money to help Bozo while he was in prison then there was the car for Yoda. I told them, damnit I TOLD THEM not to do those things, that it would be a bad idea. They didn't listen. So here we are. On the verge. If anything goes awry with the bankruptcy, we could loose the house.

Mom told me this yesterday. We could loose the house and she doesn't feel like she should have to give up space when we move into the camper, should things come to that. That means that I am out on my damned ear! I am the only one who never treated my parents like shit, who never thought I was entitled to anything, who has done everything that they asked even when I knew it would turn out wrong. Mom doesn't want to let me just sleep there! "I want a place for my things," she tells me. That's fine, I'll sleep on the fucking floor! But no, if we loose the house, I am officially homeless.

I feel like everything I have ever done to help my parents means nothing. I can't afford a place to live! Not on the fucking pathetic amount that my job pays. Fuck it, I may just move to Oregon or something. Mum and dad don't really want me here anyway. I was fool to think otherwise. My parents were the only ones that never betrayed me and here I am, on the verge of being homeless and on the street.

This all comes to a head in October, we'll know more then. I'll figure something out. I always do.

Eventful Day

Yesterday was one hell of a day. First I find out that an acquaintance of mine is getting married. She foolishly thinks that her marriage will solver all her problems Quite the opposite, I doubt her marriage will last longer then two years.

Then I get a call from my mother, guess who's back in jail? Oh yeah, that would be my idiot half brother, Bozo the Clown. He was the one that wrecked my parents house and threatened to kill me. I have a restraining order against him. Social services came by to ask Mum to take his kids. After the last time, in which they did nothing but scream nonstop for three months, she said no. I'm proud of her for that. She's such a sweet woman that helping others is simply part of who she is. Bozo burned any and all bridges that connected him to us. I swear if I hear he's been killed in jail or run over by a bus, I won't care, might laugh maybe, but I won't cry.

I also received a call from my younger brother. He left a message on my phone asking for my track ball mouse since he's broken his. Now, we've had his daughter at the house for well over a month, the first time he calls its to beg for a mouse, not ask how his daughter is doing. I paid $50usd for that mouse! I am not going to just give it to him. If he wants something, he has to do like everyone else and bloody work for it! Get a job, you looser!

Oh how I loathe my relatives.

Lies By Omittion

My last session, my T said that she feels I'm not being totally honest all of the time. Not that I'm lying, but she has said she noticed that I omit certain details. She's right of course. I don't fully trust her, so of course I don't say all that I should. That comes later, I'm sure. I don't know what to expect with therapy. I'm just allowing myself to hope that good things will happen here.

I recently realized that I scratch my scalp and pick at my skin when I am worried or anxious. I had never noticed this before someone on another support site mentioned it. I thought, "Oh my... I do that, too!" It was strange to realize that there is another method that I injure, one I was not aware of until that moment. It was really unnerving. Still is. I'd like to mention this to my T, but I'm not sure how. The last session I sort of blurted about an old injury and how I'd lied about it. Never said that before. I've told the lie so long, it has become almost truth.

I go again next Friday.

Jazz Greats

All right, so I have an odd streak. Amid the Linkin Park, Paramore, and Within Temptation, my iPod has a collection of things like Adele, Nat King Cole and Ella Fitzgerald. I love music and so long as I like the song, it finds a place on the vast iPod thingy. Today I bought a Billie Holiday collection. I prefer Ella Fitzgerald, but I do like Billie too.

My parents have their own tastes in music, which often are my tastes as well. However, my tastes (see the above list of alternative rock) are not theirs. Lately, I've been enjoying the smoother tones of jazz and classical music. I'm not sure why, but  just have a taste.. or an ear rather for the softer music. Been playing hymns and classical for the last week. Now I want jazz. Or else the music of Imogen Heap.

Anyway I should go to bed. Therapy in the morning.

Books And Bruises

So, I've finally done it. I have started a blog for book reviews. I call it Quill And Ink . I'm rather proud of myself. I wrote three small reviews in one day and intend fully to write many more. If I get really good, maybe I can make a career of it. Who knows?

Had a rough day Sunday. My wrist is bruised something terrible. I kept banging it on beams at work all day. I could not calm down! It hasn't been an easy few weeks for me as far as the injuries go. I've bruised my wrist, cut my arm and picked at the skin of my hand. I've noticed that I pick when I'm in front of people and am anxious. Honestly, it freaks me out some.

Therapy again on Friday.

Awake

Its 0430 and I'm wide awake. My beautiful, lovely niece is awake and the cause of my lack of sleep. She is two and a half and now under the care of her grandparents. Her parents should have broken her of the bottle a year ago, but no! We have to endure her fit-throwing. This child started crying at 0200.

I have a shift at 1000 this morning, full eight hours. I am so screwed. Yesterday was just complete bollocks and today doesn't look too hot either. To clarify, I will be working on three hours sleep. No one should have to be at a job they hate with so little sleep to endure. To day is also a holiday, American Independence Day. Big whoop-dee-doo apparently. People blasting off their semi-legal miniature bombs and having a gay old time of it. I don't celebrate holidays so this means nothing to me. Work will serve some horrid version of a barbeque, of which I shan't partake.

This is just shaping up to be a fabulous day. Rather be sleeping. I hope its not like yesterday, which I managed to bruise my wrist from banging it all day. The crap I had to deal with was just too much! The management seems to want me to be a supervisor, yet they do not pay me a sufficient amount to make this possible. I need a better job. I hate this one.

Hobby

As you may or may not know, as I cannot remember whether or not I've mentioned it before, I like to make jewelry. I'm not half bad at it, if I do say so. Well, yesterday I went to my favourite bead shop and took advantage of the sale going on. Among my purchases was a porcelain disk, a carved leaf made from tiger's eye and a string of garnet chips. I paid for my beads and all was right with the world. Except for one little thing, I was charged for two strands of beads at $6US. This morning I need to go down and rectify that. I'm good with just getting another strand for the six dollars, since the receipt say "Sorry no refunds" at the bottom.

Now its just a matter of which stone I want. I love using semi-precious stones! They look just lovely! And I love how they feel when I'm wearing them.

I called this collection "Autumnal Bliss". The beads are: agate chips, mookate, jasper, and redwood. The disc is crackle finish on black resin. I like that it looks like a river in autumn.

Black Or Not

I've noticed a startling trend in my wardrobe. I'll make myself not wear black t-shirts. I use black to hide the blood after I injure. To keep myself from injuring and from being discovered, I'll wear shirts that aren't black. Last night, I managed to by pass my own rule by injuring before a shower. By the time I was finished, the cuts had stopped bleeding. Since they weren't too deep this is hardly surprising.

My internal debate comes from my thoughts of whether or not to tell my therapist. She knows I injure but not the methods I use. Its easier for me to write things then say them. Next session is on Friday.

I'm getting headaches every time I go to work. My headaches are stress triggered, so guess what? My job isn't exactly conducive to recovery in any way, yet I have to stay. I can't the medical benefits anywhere else. I may even be forced to sacrifice my Sundays. I worship all day on Sunday, but they are trying to tell me that I have to be free to work all the time, that they are only obligated to offer time off for the service itself, not my habit of going in the field ministry and Bible study after. Its an "all day" thing! They just refuse to understand that. If I have to, I'll get a lawyer!

I am just so fed up with everything!! I'm feeling numb. I want to cut again, as I had last night. I want to burn because there is no blood to hide.

Numb

I'm tired. Exhausted. Fed up. I'm numb, and that troubles me. I've had one hell of a day. Came home and did the one thing I fought all day not to, injure. Couldn't stop shaking! I feel bad for injuring, but damned if the desired effect wasn't there. I'm calmer in the mind, but now emotionally and physically numb.

Probably going to finish this episode of CSI:NY then hit the sack. I can't --no, I don't want to stay awake any longer. I want to escape in sleep, but fear the dreams.

Not Sure About This

I have a new therapist that I will be seeing for the first time this Friday. I'm wanting to go because of the self injury, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to give up injury. I know it sounds weird, but si has become my go-to drug of choice. Some people smoke, some drink, others get high. I injure when too many negative emotions pile up, I implode by going inside myself then explode by way of hurting myself.

I know all the facts about what I do, when and why and I know its bad for me, but leaving it behind is scary. Once I have left it all behind, there is no one that will support me. Not off line anyway. I feel so alone in this.

Raining Lullaby

Its raining out. All I really want to do is go out walking, let the rain kiss me, wash me clean. I want to know that I am not alone in this mindset, that other people need to feel more then depression. The rain's music is a calming lullaby to my soul, singing a sweet song just for me. Maybe I'm being petty and greedy, but I like the idea of the rain giving me a song to sleep to. Its still early but how can a mind as fractured as mine pass up the chance to sleep without being disturbed? To sleep to the sound of nature's song, of God's lullaby?

I'm not sure how I'm feeling today. Its like I'm trying to stay in once place in a crowd and getting pushed in a direction that I don't want. Ever been out to sea and had the ocean start to pull you farther from shore? Relentlessly drawing you to the vastness of an ocean and a world much larger then yourself? I'm not sure why I'm feeling like this. Maybe I just need more coffee... or less. I'm not really sure.

At Least I'll Sleep

I'm edgy, urgy. Have been for several days. I want to burn to feel something more, or maybe its something less. I've just had a few drinks and my brain is getting fuzzy. It surprises me that I can still type with clarity, though I won't mention how many times I've had to backspace. I'm not completely sure what is wrong with my head, my emotions. So many ways I'm going. In a way, I like the fuzz. Means I don;t have to feel obligated to think straight. With a few drinks, I always sleep straight through the night and I don't dream. Thank God.

Road Trip

It has been a plan of mine for some time to travel to the coast and travel north along Route 1. I've wanted to do this for sometime. I plan to take a cooler, sleeping bag, and duffel with change of clothes. I can sleep in the back of my van. All that is needed is what I have listed, a map and possibly a compass. I'm rather good with direction but having a back up wouldn't be a bad idea.

Mum doesn't like the idea really. She wants to make sure I'm safe. I'll be twenty-seven this July and perfectly capable of handling myself. I would like to get a decent knife though. Or a taser... Either way. Still and all, I am rather good at taking care of myself. I've managed so far, have I not?

Well, one way or another I have managed.

Moving On

I am my mother's fourth child and my father's first. My older siblings were never around when I was a child. As a result of such, I have grown up with the mentality of a first born child. I view myself as the oldest. I have done all the things that an older child is expected to do. Namely, to make a success of my life and be a reasonably responsible human being. My mother's second husband (first died of heart failure) was an abusive bastard. He beat my mother and raped my half-sister. All of my siblings have been abused in one way or another throughout their lives. I, however, have not. I had a relatively safe childhood, though I never was what one could call "happy".

Having mentioned this to my mother, she says that I haven't gotten past the survivor's guilt that I feel. As a matter of fact, I have, but she won't fully let me move on. I have to remember that I am the survivor, that my siblings will always hate me for that. I guess that might be part of the reasons I'm an injurer. God, I am so confused and fucked in the head.

No Point In This

This is one of those filler posts. Mostly, I'm bored out of my skull and bone tired. I have a cold which is resulting in a headache. I'd rather stay at home today, but I'm certain I can work through the day as I did yesterday. I'm tired! I've got a camping trip this Sunday and Monday. Mum and I are going to a lake to relax and do jack squat. :) Must remember to bring a good book. I'm thinking of Big Sur by Jack Kerouac. I've not read that one yet.

If I wasn't sick, I'd take a sleeping pill tonight and have a good long rest. The reason I don't is that I have a cold and don't want a become poor man's version of Heath Ledger. I know that's not funny, and it wasn't meant to be.

Work Days

First off, to Scottie, I wish to express a few words. I do not mind your advice or counsel. Its not wise for one to rely solely upon their own understanding, counsel. Only seeing one side of the issue means you are not able to fully see, thus providing a skewed path.

Now to the blog thingy...

Yesterday, I had the great joy (note sarcasm) of having to be placed in front of a tribunal and told that I get overly frustrated at work. They wanted to know what was bothering me, why I felt as I did and to actually write a statement to the effect of such. I felt over powered and out numbered. Three supervisors against one associate? There was an assistant manager, my direct supervisor (both male) and one female supervisor. Three against one is not fair odds and when all three are supervisors, I felt out gunned, so to speak. I had to sit down, placing myself in a lower position. All in all, I felt overwhelmed. I stopped talking and made an attempt to calm down which amounted to an incredible failure and a minor panic attack.

I don't think I would have panicked had I been allowed to stand. If you are going to hand me disgrace, at least give me the dignity of accepting such on my own two feet. They wanted me to write a statement and I flatly refused, saying that I was not going to write under duress and while upset. They would have to wait for an official report.

The only one that even remotely seemed to give rat's fuzzy little ass was my supervisor. He kept trying to see if I was all right, finally telling me to take an long break if I felt the need. I took five minutes, tried to calm down and finally burned in the restroom. I had to set my head straight. The panic attack is what did me in. I understand that it "wasn't worth injuring for". Always seems to be the line I'm given. Half the time I feel as though my emotions need validation or explanation to others. "I feel like this because of that". The explanations can be tedious, and annoying. I seem to not be allowed certain emotions. Well, not allowed without certain criteria being met.

Oh my, I forgot a few things for Scottie. To answer one of your pointed questions: No, I can never recall being happy or completely healthy minded, if indeed there is such a thing. Much of work is influenced by my emotions. So, I guess the only way of knowing what will happen is to follow through, wait and see.

Fear Of Loss

I'm a writer, its my one talent. I use the writing as an outlet. My nightmares become stories, my emotions morph into poetry. What happens when I am "healed", I wonder? What happens to my writing when and if I am no longer depressed and having such thoughts? I fear loosing the power of my writing.

I guess the question becomes "Am I willing to loose some of my writing for the sake of a healthy(er) mind?" I'm not sure. And that unease bothers me. For instance, according to many of my online friends who know of my current situation, this poem below is among my very best.

Heaven's Tears

a music is filling the earth once more
a moment in time that I long for
the feeling of a planet sharing
emotions with me
the sky has turned from blue
to deep grays of stormed emotions
finally, the sky cannot hold
her tears a moment longer
and sighs heavily.

cool rain drops caress my face
and cool my anger, reminding me
that even the cosmos need a release.
my heart is dark and breaking and
it seems the world knows this,
crying with me so I don't feel alone.

the city is breathing with me
feeling the cool sensation of rain
as it washes away the filth of so many sins.
my arms raise skyward as the drops wash
over scars and marks,
purifying me.

I'm crying with the skies, with the heavens.
Only in the moments of heavenly pain
can I feel truly understood.
Even God is weeping, for one... for many.

Numb

I'm feeling numb. Cut last night and again this morning to feel something. If I'm not feeling numb, I'm feeling depressed, which is close to the same thing. Feeling lost, alone. I feel as if the love I have for people needs validation. I tell my parents I love them and they ask, "What are you up to?"

I just want to curl in bed and forget the world today. I'm so fed up with everything.

I went over the same place too many times when I cut, which I don't do normally. Now its deeper then the usual superficial cuts, so I have to watch it carefully today. God, I'm so stupid. Can't I be irresponcible and play hooky from work today?

NO MEDS!

Therapy on Tuesday did not go well for me. She seemed almost insistent that instead of starting with therapy, we should start with meds. "Its about your quality of life. Did you want to feel better, or just okay?" That was the cincher, I'm not going back. I'll find someone else. I did not want therapy to get zombified on antidepressants! If the situation warrants it, then yes I may have to consider meds, but I don't want to start with medication then use therapy. Seems bass-akwards to me.

So, I'll try a different therapist. Damn, as if calling the first time wasn't hard enough.

Quidam

My father bought tickets for the two of us to see this Cirque Du Soleil show. I have always wanted to see a Cirque show live, even planning to take a trip to Las Vegas to enjoy one. Well today, Quidam came here. The tickets have been sitting on the television since February. I can close my eyes and still see it, see the acts, hear the music. Feel the story.

There is one act, the silks, that always makes my heart ache. The woman wraps herself in the silk completely, she looks wrapped in a womb-- a rebirth to a new life. But it doesn't seem to be the one she wants. She's sad and seemingly trying desperately to be that pure heart once more. I feel like that. Lonely, depressed, lost, and forgotten. She seems to be clinging to life, the silks, until she is forced to be a person without hope, being carried off stage. That act always makes me want to cry.

I've decided to watch Alegria, another Cirque show that I have on dvd. I want that story.

Therapy on Tuesday.

Therapy

So I have made an appointment to see a therapist in April. Honestly, I'm a little frightened. I've never been to therapy before and do not know what to expect. I know that this is what I need, however.

Monday was horrid. I was beside myself, I was so stressed out. People were asking me how I was and all I said was "fine" and kept going. I don't recall doing much of anything then trying to not burst into tears and go on an Elizabethan tyraid. One of my co-workers said yesterday that I had a look in my eye that had her more then a little worried. I know the look she's speaking of. Its that wild eyed look of a mad woman. I've seen it myself, many times and it still freaks me out. Between Monday and yesterday, Wednesday, I have cut my arm and burned twice. Its rare I burn more then once in a month. Twice in a single week is bad for me.

What never ceases to surprise me, though, is that no one ever sees the burns. I make no effort to hide them. Some of the scars are pink, a few are purple, many have faded, but no one seems to notice them at all. Maybe I'm lucky because I wouldn't know what to say any how.

In The Chair

So I finally took the plunge and called a therapist. I called yesterday and left a message on the voice mail. Tomorrow is Monday, so I might get a call. If not, I'll call again and see. I think its time. I've mentioned going to therapy for some time. The last time I thought of doing this, I chickened out before and didn't go. Of course I also gave a false name so... Anyway.

So if they call, I could be having an appointment with a shrink soon. I've been told by other friends of mine, people who injure, that its best to talk if you feel comfortable with the counselor. Also that its best if I have a plan on what I want to talk about. I think I'll start with just the depression and the nightmares first. The injury will come later.

That has been getting worse of late. I have a half dozen fresh scratches. I'm tired. So damned tired.

Butterfly Project

I tried the "Butterfly Project" idea. You draw a butterfly on your arm, or where ever you injure. Your goal is to not injure until the butterfly fades away, otherwise you'll kill the butterfly. I have drawn one on my left wrist where I will see it all the time.

Today royally sucked! Every time I turned round, there was something pushing me into this oblivion. All I wanted to do today was either slap somebody or cut my arm. This is just a bad damned day. I'm doing all the damned work of the bloody supervisor and not getting the bloody pay! I wouldn't mind it so much if I was being paid better.

I'm trying, I really am.I just want to curl up some days and sleep this crap away! That isn't possible though. Not by a long shot

SIAD

Been a while since I've last been on here. Been a rough go of late. More and more, I am wanting to leave this place. The stresses that are here alone are bad enough to haunt my dreams. The nightmares are as bad as ever. I have been cutting again, but that's nothing new. Last week, I was so stressed at work, I cut in the restroom.

I've been so shaky I missed March 1st, Self Injury Awareness Day. One of these days, I'm going to tie orange string or ribbon to the trees down town. I'd like to use to ribbon so I can write S.I.A.D on them. Every year I say I'm going to do that and every year I forget till its too late.

Been feeling all shaky and cagey these last few days. Last night was bad as they come. I unexpectedly saw a self harmer on the telly and it really sent me for a trip. I was shaky all afternoon. It wasn't pleasant, I can tell you. I need to distract myself again.

Bad Day

This was one hell of a day. I got to work, had to finish a half dozen jobs that no one else finished. I also had to water all the house plants, four large tables worth, because it wouldn't be done unless I did it and I'm off for the next two days. I was late going to lunch and got chewed for it.

That was the last straw for me, I could handle how angry I was. I'm a good hard worker and I have to tell customers that "Oh I'm sorry I can't help you anymore, I have to go to lunch." I'm not like that! I got so angry, so near to loosing my control that I felt the only way for me to gain that balance and find a release was to injure. I burned twice, not bad but I still did it. There are two red welts where the matches touched me. I've been drinking, adding Kaluah to my coffee. I haven't eaten yet, not sure that I want to and I've cut.

I feel like I'm on autopilot flying towards self destruct. This day sucked.

Books, Dissociation And Crazies

So I finished reading Kafka On The Shore by Haruki Murakami. I enjoyed it. There are two stories going at once and the suspense of seeing how they converge is agonizing. Murakami isn't an author for everyone and certainly has some outlandish stories. Personally I think his books are incredibly beautiful and poignant. I'm reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by David Eggers, an autobiography. So far its pretty entertaining in the way its written... and I haven't gotten out of the Prologue yet.

I'm in a chat room right now as I write this. The topic for this morning is dissociation. Though calling that the official topic is a bit of a stretch, it is a chat room after all. The topic changes as often as a premadonna changes her clothes. Keeping in mind that the chat room is full of people who have or currently do self injure, most of us have dissociated from time to time. I personally hate it when I do. I loose control of myself at times, forgetting where I am or what's real and what's a dream. I've injured while in such states and its not good for  me. I don't use the usual control methods. I've cut a little too deep, or too many times. The first time I burned I was only partly aware it was me doing it.

I don't like feeling like I'm not in control. All my life I've been told how I must be, who I must be. Now that I am an adult, I tell myself how to be and act. When I dissociate then I loose those carefully laid walls of protection, for myself and others. I don't know what I'll do, but I am fully aware what I am capable of and its unpleasant.  In a dissociative state, I beat the hell out of a kid who'd pissed me off. Of course I wasn't looking so hot after either, but still. I don't remember the fight. I remember hitting him once then being deposited in the hall and being called a crazy bitch. I know how he looked after and I don't want to hurt people. Its bad enough that I hurt myself. Why should others suffer my pain?

Sometime I wonder, all right often I wonder where this pain all came from. I was never raped as a kid, I was never beaten by my parents. I had a happy childhood. There were emotions that I never learned to handle, but that shouldn't have made me like this, should it?? I don't know, I'm so broken that I don't know what I'm supposed to be any more.

People joke about me being the crazy girl, the laughing girl. If they only knew that I was merely protecting myself from them, from my own mind, would they still be laughing with me?

Testing

Testing to see if this works.

It does. Sent from mobile

Moving and Change

I think I might have to move soon, within a year or two. My half brother will find a way to hurt me once the restraining order has run its course and I don't want to be anywhere near him when it does. I wish he had never come into my life, I wish he'd fall under a damned bus!

I may have to change my name before I leave, just to make it harder for him to find me. Change my facebook page so that only my real friends know who I am . Leave everyone behind and  start over. I don't know where I'd go, but I'll find someplace. I'm clever, I can make my way.

Its 11.44pm on a Sunday and I'm wide awake. Normally, I'd be ready to sleep by now. I would take sleeping pills but I did that last night and I don't want to grow dependent on those damnable things. I close tomorrow night so I don't have to be awake at any particular time.

I have been dying for a burn, jonesin' for it for some time. I'm urgy, I'm stressed, I'm tired. Not a great combination. I hope that moving helps in some small way.

Stupid, Stupid

I was resetting the shelves where the ceramic pots are at work. They had a new plan-o-gram and needed to be set to reflect it. While I was working I found this shard of a pot that had an edge to it. I'd been urgy all day and frustrated and angry. Stupid stupid woman that I am, I cut my hand with it. A neat row of four scratches all about an inch long. I could easily blame it on the pot and working, which explained the blood on my hand when my department supervisor asked me about it.

I had a great day yesterday worrying about it looking infected! Idiot that I am, it was dirty tool and could have really gotten infected had I not kept cleaning it yesterday. It still stings. I feel so stupid right now, so much like a failure. I don't even know where the idea of cutting myself with a ceramic shard even came from. I'd been urgy and it was a tool, a pathetic means to an end. As punishment for being stupid, I want to burn myself. See, this is how my vicious little circle starts, and I hate myself for it.

Haruki Murakami Reading Challenge

I am a huge fan of Murakami-sama. In the past, I've read a few of his books, including After Dark and The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. So when I happened on a page that was encouraging everyone to read at least one of his books this year, I figured it sounded like fun. I'm already reading Kafka On The Shore, though I started reading this before I heard about the challenge. Oh well, I'll read it anyway. Another part of the challenge is to attempt to read all Murakami books available in your language. I have in my possession nine books of his, so this ought to be fun!

I know I started this blog as my journey through self harm and it still is, though reading is a great distraction. You get transported into the world of someone else and see things through their eyes. I've been reading forever and still find joy in it. Just finished Interred With Their Bones by Jennifer Lee Carrell. It was amazing! Using four-hundred-year-old clues to find a lost play of Shakespear, with people trying to kill you all the way! Loved it!

If you want to join the discover of Haruki Murakami, here's a link to the blog page.
Murakami Reading Challenge