On This Day in History...

Events:
330 - Byzantium is renamed Nova Roma during a dedication ceremony, but is more popularly referred to as Constantinople.
1927 - The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is founded.
1960 - The first contraceptive pill is made available on the market.
1987 - The first heart-lung transplant takes place (Baltimore, Maryland)
1997 - IBM's Deep Blue chess-playing supercomputer defeats Garry Kasparov in the last game of the rematch, becoming the first computer to beat a world-champion chess player.

Births:
1571 - Niwa Nagashige, Japanese warlord (d. 1637)
1722 - Petrus Camper, Dutch anatomist (d. 1789)
1888 - Irving Berlin, American composer (d. 1989)
1904 - Salvador Dalí, Catalan painter (d. 1989)
1957 - Peter North, Canadian porn star

Deaths:
1708 - Jules Hardouin Mansart, French architect (b. 1646)
1778 - William Pitt, the Elder, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom (b. 1708)
1960 - John D. Rockefeller, Jr., American philanthropist (b. 1874)
1981 - Bob Marley, Jamaican singer and musician (b. 1945)
2001 - Douglas Adams, English author (b. 1952)

On this day in 1981 I was born. I was baby no. 5 for my family and the first girl. I was born just before 11 pm at night, just in time to make the 11:00 o’clock news as my father is fond of saying. My mother say’s that I was the best Mothers Day present she could have asked for. Every couple of years I have to share my birthday with Mother’s Day and now that I’m older I don’t mind at all.

Is it wrong that I’m more impressed with the list of people who died on my birthday, than the list of people who were born on my birthday?

The Nighmare Scenario

A.'s reply came in yesterday around noon:

"Believe me, not as disappointed as I was when I found out about your affair last summer with the stalker."

This man chose to believe the vicious and probably the most salacious rumours to come out of the workplace rumour mill, instead of talking to me to find out the truth. He didn't know the whole truth about the stalker admittedly because I didn't know how much I could trust him, plus it really wasn't his issue to deal with and I just wanted to put it behind me. Yesterday I was so upset I couldn't stop shaking and felt physically ill over this whole thing. I had no idea how far-reaching the repercussions would be after having had a stalker and now I know. This incident has cost me financially, emotionally, caused me to go into hiding for several months, lose 6 months of time on my thesis, and now my supposed "boyfriend", not to mention my reputation, and having to transfer work locations.

Two left over Lorazepam's from my almost institutionalization three years ago, and a good night's sleep later I feel differently. I don't want to be with a man who'll chose to believe office gossip, or gossips, even if they happen to be friends of his over my word. Or not even bother to find out what my side of the story is before making harsh snap judgments. This is the nightmare scenario I’ve always feared. In a “He said, she said” situation even if I win, I lose. The woman will always lose out in these scenarios. My “boyfriend” chose to believe work rumours over my word and now my reputation in his eyes is irreparably harmed and I doubt he’ll ever speak to me again.

My hurt, confusion and anger over this still controlling my life continues to increase. I had a stalker. I chose to deal with it as best as I knew how, and for me not pressing charges was the right choice- the last thing I needed was for him to be fired from his job to spend more free time harassing me. I just wanted it to be over so I could go on with my life. However, he lives his life free and clear while I continue to work picking up the pieces. I just wonder how much longer I’ll have to do penance for being his victim.

Dating Websites & Mixed Emotions

Something I never really told anyone about A. was that I found his online dating profile several weeks before we started seeing each other. At the time I didn’t mind and it gave me some insight in to a few of his interests that he had never talked about. However, once we started seeing each other he continued to log in daily and do whatever it was he was doing on the site. The only difference is that he changed his picture to the “backstage pass” option- hiding it from public viewing. It became a small obsession with me to log in to see if he had been online. It really started to bother me when he continued logging in almost daily, sometimes right after I had left his house to go home, after we had just slept together.

In hindsight I should have confronted him on it right away, or just walked away from him when he continued to log into the site. Instead I just silently sat by, monitoring his usage and letting it bother me more and more as the days went by. I knew the relationship wasn’t working too well, even without the daily log-in to the dating website, and stopped myself from becoming too emotionally involved. However, that doesn’t lessen my feelings of hurt from being so callously brushed aside. I checked the website again today and my stomach dropped when I saw that he had reposted his picture with the profile. Looking at it made me feel sick.

My only recourse was to fire off a well planned and coolly worded email that had been in the works since I had unequivocal proof he was avoiding me this past Saturday. I expressed my disappointment in his behaviour and lack of adult communications to end the relationship with some dignity and class. In closing, I added this line: “I hope you find what you're looking for daily on Lavalife that I wasn't able to give you.” The rest of the email was polite and unemotional, however I had to let fly with a little hint of bitchiness. Also to let him know that I knew exactly what was going on and he wasn’t fooling anyone. I’m not expecting a response, and I also fully expect that he’ll continue to avoid social situations where he’ll run into me, like Friday night hockey, and the big end of season banquet this Thursday. Coward.

I think I've been dumped

The last time I talked to A. was on Thursday night. It was a short conversation that could have occurred between just about any two people and not a supposed couple. He abruptly ended the conversation saying he had to throw some clothes in the dryer since he had nothing to wear tomorrow. That was the last thing he said to me. I tried calling him 20 minutes later to ask him what was going on between the two of us and to see if he even wanted to continue on since I was getting fed up with his behaviour. He never answered the phone. It is now day four of his disappearing act and I’m pretty confident in saying that he won’t be calling or emailing anytime soon to explain just what happened.

I wasn’t concerned until Friday night when he didn’t show up for our hockey game. The man eat, sleeps and breathes hockey and has even gone so far as to take vacation time at work so as not to miss a game for our winter hockey league. I knew something wasn’t right when he failed to show up to our spring pick-up game and didn’t even call the organizer to explain what happened. I left him a message at home after the game asking if everything was all right and to call me- it’s gone unreturned. We had dinner plans on Saturday night, so I called in the early evening to see if we were still on. He never answered his cell or home phone.

In a moment of pure anxiety and angst as I was talking to Mr. Intellectual about the situation I asked if he wanted to accompany me on a stake out of A’s house to see if he was home. I needed to know if he was avoiding me or if there was something serious going on since I know A’s grandmother is 98 years old, lives alone and has been having some difficulties recently. His car was in the driveway and when I called the house from my cell phone, he didn’t pick up, thereby confirming all my angsty suppositions. My best bet is that he was in the basement, watching the playoffs and screening all my calls. I just couldn’t believe that a supposed man of integrity could pull such a juvenile disappearing act instead of talking to me like an adult to let me know that either he has a problem with me, or he simply doesn’t want to continue seeing me. I’ve never been treated like this before.

Of course I broke down in the car with Mr. Intellectual. He drove me around for a bit in the car, desperately trying to cheer me up by suggesting the old tried and true methods of bribing me with chocolates, ice cream and junk food. It had always worked for him in the past, but I’m really trying to break myself of the habit of medicating my pain with food. Instead he just held my hand while he drove, just like we used to do years ago when we were so in love. I’m not really sure if that made me feel better or worse in the long run. I just didn’t want to cry in front of him and show my vulnerability and to add to my emotional confusion, it felt surreal to be holding hands in the car like old times. I’m sure his girlfriend would be none too pleased to learn of what happened between us that day since she doesn’t even know how close we still are. It’s different now though, we’re no longer a couple, but two friends who grew up together and care what happens to the other.

If I haven’t heard anything from A. by Tuesday (day five of the avoidance), I’ll be sending him an email expressing my disappointment in his behaviour, saying I expected more from him and to formally end it- since it’s apparent he’s got no interest in me anymore. I’ve never been dumped before and this is the most bizarre thing to me. I never thought a man of 35 could act so immature, but then again human nature shouldn’t surprise me anymore. I just wish I didn’t care.

Another Day...

I turn the shower on and let the water run hotter than a regular shower. It’s been three days since I’ve seen one. I desperately hope that by making it hotter I will finally start to feel something again. A futile thought, I know.

Standing under the water, my face upturned to the stream, the hot tears mix with the hot water until I can’t tell that I’m still crying. Sobs wrack my body and I just stand there, immobile. Numb. That is the best way to describe it. Anesthetized from life. Emotionally this disconnect creates a buffer from my pain that allows me to continue on. And yet, it’s like being in purgatory- a temporary respite from the hell I know is coming.

Frantic, desperate thoughts, like mice scurrying in a dark basement come and go in my head. An overwhelming urge to make it all stop. The soothing sound of the water hitting the tile floor, and the steam surrounding me drown out the noise in my head until the only thing I’m aware of is the sound of my lungs drawing breath in and out. Instinctively I know the tears haven’t stopped but I no longer feel them silently streaming down my face as I lean my forehead against the cool tile.

I shampoo my hair and as I’m rinsing it out I close my eyes and let the stinging hot water wash over me until the water runs warm and then cool as the hot water tank empties. Afterwards, standing in front of the fogged up mirror I stare blankly at the shadowy figure reflected in its surface and wonder silently how much longer I can go on doing this. Where does it end?

Outside My Front Door

The words won't come today, so I'll leave you with something a little less depressing.

A Long Drive Home

The tears streamed silently down my face, my chest heavy with a weight that wasn’t going away easily. I felt like I couldn’t breath and yet the air was still going in and out of my lungs. For the next hour I just let the tears come, as I made the familiar journey from my hometown back to my University town. The outside world matched my inside turmoil, a landscape of swirling fog, grey drizzle and a biting chill that seemed out of place for late spring. As much as I wanted to pull over and just stop, I wanted to get home to hide under the covers of my bed even more. Like a thread drawn taut and then snaps from the force, I felt myself break like that string and my emotions went numb. As the numbness washed over me I felt myself slipping into the familiar and yet dangerous territory that will require medication before I can fight my way out again.

Unfulfilled Craving

For the past two weeks or so I have had the biggest craving for After Eight ice cream. I first tasted it almost 2 years ago and immediately fell in love. Finally an ice cream that is more chocolate than mint! The only problem is that it is next to impossible to find. I have been to two of the local grocery stores several times since the craving has hit with no sign of it. In desperation tonight I even checked out the Nestle website and there's no mention of it! They also create Baci ice cream, which I saw in a store over the weekend, but was not listed on their website either. I'm not sure how much further I'm willing to look. I know there are a couple more grocery stores in town that I have never set foot in, but might be tempted to scout out if this craving doesn't go away soon. However, if I end up looking around the grocery stores in my hometown I know I'm having issues. How would I even transport ice cream an hour and half back to the Uni town without having it melt all over? Would a regular cooler packed with ice suffice?

Spring at Home

I know that winter is really over when the cherry blossoms come out on my parents farm. Unfortunately that's not quite yet. These branches were pruned by my father from the orchard and forced to bloom a little early so that my mother could have them to decorate her table for Easter dinner.

I Think I'm in Trouble

I’ve begun to sleep around 15 hours a day for the past three days and I’m guessing the trend will continue.

I don’t get dressed until very late in the afternoon if at all, and I couldn’t care less.

Showering daily is a tremendous effort and I’m betting that in another few days it won’t happen.

If I remember to brush my teeth once a day I’m doing good.

I have a serious case of the “fuck-its” and just do not care about things I should, like my quarterly Progress Review Meeting with my Master’s committee, or setting up appointments to get into the archives I need to visit in order to finish the research phase of my thesis.

Moments of anxiety, anger and mental agitation are only soothed by brief suicidal ideations.

When not in bed trying to sleep away my time I am watching movies and thinking about what I should make for my next meal, even though the idea is boring.

I only eat because I know that is what I should be doing at that time of the day, not because I particularly care to eat.

Not even several days of sunshine are enough to make me feel normal and even a bit happy.

Depression is insidious.

A Reminder

This was the longest 9 minutes and 7 seconds of my life. The memory is starting to fade, but the terror I felt during that phone call was so palpably real that I never want to go there again. I could not wish that feeling or experience on anyone. Thankfully I'm able to sleep comfortably at night again and I'm not afraid everytime I leave the safety of my house.

I keep this call on my cell phone as a reminder of what happened to me. That it was in fact real, and not imagined.

"...cute as a button."

I have always been described by men as “cute” or by some derivative of the word. As a general rule this has never really bothered me and is more than acceptable. While I’m not denying that I can be very cute and playful, for once I’d like to know what they really think. Just once I’d like to be described as ass-spankably hot. I’d even settle for hot-as-fuck.

I want to know that you just want to grab me, push me up against a wall and have your way with me right there. I want to know that you desire me and want me. I want to know that I drive you crazy. I want to know that I get under your skin. In short I want to know that you care. I’m not asking you to love me; I’m just asking you to be honest with me.

You know what, even if you’re not as forthcoming about the sex and what you want, at least let me know how you feel. Let me know that you like spending time with me. That you want me to stay overnight because our time together is so short and saying good-bye after a few hours just doesn’t cut it. Tell me you think I’m funny and smart. Tell me that you miss me when I’m gone. Tell me that you dream of me, think of me, care about how I feel and what I’m doing.

I tell you.

Pursuer vs. Pursued

There are no more flirty emails. There are no more responses to caring text messages. There are fewer and fewer replies to the emails I send daily. There are no more phone conversations that last well into the night. I’m beginning to feel like I’m an out of sight out of mind girlfriend. I feel like I’m pursuing a reluctant partner and the more I try and connect the more he disconnects from the relationship. The worst came this past weekend when I asked if he wanted to go back to his place to have sex and he rejected me out right without explaining anything, just saying he was pretty tired.

I’m guessing my reaction to his answer was pretty apparent on my face because he asked if I was angry. Of course I had to say no and fake a smile to reassure him, but I said goodnight pretty quickly and walked away before the utter rejection and hurt got the better of me. Rejection in any form is a difficult thing to handle, but being rejected for sex is a hard one for me. As I drove home flashbacks of begging Mr. Intellectual to the point of tears for him to make love to me played in my mind. The confusion, depression and feelings of being ugly and undesirable during those times all seared to the front of my conscious again, overwhelming me.

I see A. once or twice a week if I’m lucky because of the long distance. Our relationship is too new to be experiencing this. I don’t want to be in a relationship anymore if I’m going to be rejected on a regular basis and ignored. I don’t need this. It is exactly why I’m afraid to love. Exactly what makes me think there is something about me that inspires this type of reaction and behaviour. I don’t need to feel like crap because you are incapable of giving me what I need. I need to know that you desire me, miss me, and want to spend time with me. You need to pursue me and stop making me feel like I’m the one unsuccessfully pursuing you and you’re just being nice by agreeing to the things I ask for because it’s easier than telling me to get lost.

Tendering Offers

Today I received my first offer of acceptance into a Ph.D program at a really great University. It was the school I was the most concerned about since they’re tough to get into, however I seemed to have made it through with flying colours.

Not only are they accepting me on the first round of decisions, they’re offering me a pretty generous scholarship to attend their school. To say I’m excited about this news is an understatement since I was quite worried about not getting in anywhere. I now have to wait and see what the two other schools I applied to will offer me before I make any decisions. This is sweet vindication after being passed over on the first round of admissions offers for my Master’s, and then only being offered conditional acceptances on the second round of offers. It was a bit of a blow, but I pulled through and I’ve become reaffirmed in my abilities.

I am actually on my way to becoming Dr. Jane Canuck.

1000 Hits

Shortly after putting up Ph.Depressed I installed StatCounter. I was curious about who was stopping by and reading my words, but more importantly I was curious to see if Mr. Intellectual ever visited. You see he is the only person I know in real life that I’ve told about the site. He is the only one for whom Jane Canuck is not an anonymous figure on the internet. To my knowledge he has never stopped by, even though 1000 other hits have been registered, and people that I don’t even know have taken time out of their lives to read my words. This is a fact that still surprises me- that someone other than myself reads here and perhaps finds value in my writing.

It’s pretty safe to assume that Mr. Intellectual has never read here and probably never will. Despite the fact that I had given him the web address the week I put it up almost a year ago, I know he doesn’t know what it is right now. A few weeks ago I was talking to him about my site and casually mentioned that I’m averaging 200 hits a month in the last few months and how shocked I am about it. At that point he asked for the address again. This time I thought about it and decided that I really didn’t want him reading here. I was afraid that the concrete knowledge that he read my words would cause me to censor myself, something that defeats the purpose of having this outlet. I politely declined, saying that right now I’d prefer if he didn’t have the site.

While it hurt that he never bothered to come here, despite claiming to be one of my best friends, in the long run I’m at peace with that knowledge. This place has always been all about me and figuring out what’s inside my head, since I don’t trust therapists and psychologists. The second half of the dichotomy is that I knew it would only be a matter of time before he shared this place with his current girlfriend if he had the address. The thought of her reading my pain and angst is just too much for me to handle at this point. As much as I want him to understand me now and read what I went through and continue to struggle with, I don’t want her to be here. We’re not a couple anymore and nothing will change that, even if he gains a better insight into my psyche. We’ve both moved on and no foreseeable good could possible come of him keeping tabs on my emotional wellbeing through reading Ph.Depressed.

Emailed Angst

Yesterday in a moment where I could no longer take the uncertainty and angst building up in me over my current tenuous relationship I sent him an email. When we talked on the phone earlier in the evening I just couldn’t bring the words to cross my lips. It’s a well-known problem for me since I can formulate exactly what I want to say in my head, but to get those well thought-out sentences past my lips can be a challenge to say the least. I did the next best thing; I used the written word instead of the verbal. I wrote that email knowing that he wouldn’t read it last night but at some point today after he gets up.

This morning I’m not exactly feeling too great about what I wrote. It’s not that it wasn’t the truth about how I feel about our relationship at the moment, that’s not what is making me angsty this morning. I know it had to come out before it made me an insecure wreck. It’s more that I’m unsure of how he’ll answer it and how he’ll react to the email. We’re both adults and should be able to deal with this maturely, however when you throw in human emotions and romantic relationships all the usual rules of civility can be thrown right out the window.

The second reason for pause is the timing. This isn’t exactly the best timing for a heavy discussion of our current situation, but then again there never is a good time. All I know is that I don’t want to become what I was during my 6-year tenure with Mr. Intellectual so I’m trying to do things differently, and that includes bringing up concerns and problems I might have in a timely manner before they have time to fester in me. But mostly I want more. I want to be able to expect more from any serious relationship I enter into than I had previously expected, which was just about nothing. I want to be able to entertain expectations and have them met and not brushed off as insignificant and unworthy of consideration.

Making the Impossible Work?

Today I feel like I’ve been trying to make the impossible work. To create a functional relationship where one could not possible exist. Take away the common roots like a shared knowledge of the agency we both work for, albeit at different branches and different capacities, and our hockey league and you’re left with very little. What does a 24-year-old History grad student have in common with a 35-year-old who’s well established in his career and more than a little comfortable in his current lifestyle? Where exactly do I fit into his life and daily routines?

While I’m a voracious reader, I have no idea what the last book he read is. I have a passion for education and my research. My current list of goals and projects to be completed stretches into the next eight years of my life or so. He on the other hand has few plans beyond the next day and is currently well on the way to realizing his career goals and chosen path, which he’s very content with. Despite the fact that I know he values his education, it took him 7 years or so to finish up a B.A. and he currently has no desire to seek out any more education. The notion of higher education is a process he finds boring and tedious and completely out of his realm.

He can also be extremely critical of people and can show very little compassion for others at times. From small comments he’s made in regards to those with mental health issues I find his answers a little troubling and not without a bit of misunderstanding of the problem. It makes me more than a bit apprehensive and frightened to reveal my past and current struggles. I suppose the issue of trust, respect and unconditional love looms large in my psyche at the moment because a man I was surer of in his love for me rejected me in the end for those very same problems he originally accepted and tried to understand.

At the moment my biggest hurdle is his uncommunicative nature. We talk on the phone during the week and can talk at length about superficial things like our respective work, common friends and hockey, but delving into conversations of any depth is difficult at best. When it comes to understanding what he’s thinking or feeling I draw a huge blank. When we're face to face the level of communication drops even more and it worries me. His actions at times tell me that there is depth to his feelings but it’s difficult for me since those actions are currently infrequent. I, of all people, know that still water’s run deep but when confronted with this it’s another story. I’m trying to let go and give into my feelings but without some corresponding actions on his part I don’t trust myself to fall in love at the moment.

This past week has been especially difficult for us since our respective schedules left little time for the two of us, and when we were finally able to see each other he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone talk to me in any meaningful sense. Not to mention there was very little time for us to be alone together. What ended up happening instead was that I started to think that perhaps this relationship was held together by very fragile threads and based mostly on sex. It was enough to make me more than a little sad about the relationship and the direction it’s heading in. If it’s a sex thing I’d like to figure that out now so I can cut off those other persistent feelings in the back of my mind and avoid being hurt when it doesn’t work out.

Worth A Rewind, Part II

This scene where Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn and Luke Wilson go out in that A-team styled van to collect their pledges for the frat is one of the funniest van abduction scenes I have ever seen in a movie. I had to re-watch this scene at least twice to get the full effect. In particular the fountain tackle and the grocery store abduction where Ferrell goes back to grab something out of the wife's bag cracked me up.

A Simple Thank-You

Dear A.
I want to thank-you for reminding me that I am actually special and beautiful. The past month spent with you has been absolutely incredible and I really feel spoiled by you. From the late nights on the phone to the time we’ve spent in person, both off and on the ice are moments I have cherished. You’re an amazing person and a man that I admire a lot. I consider it a great compliment that you picked me to be with you. At this point, I think it’s safe to say I truly am your greatest fan!

~ J.

Babies and Break Ups

From the day I fell in love with Mr. Intellectual I knew I wanted to have his children. I dreamt of little chubby babies with curly blonde hair and the same piercing steel blue eyes as his. I thought we would have had beautiful children and I wanted a baby Intellectual, something that was a shared product of our love for each other. Right from the start I knew he would be an awesome father after watching him with the children his Mother babysat in her home. He genuinely loved children and could be very patient with them, while at the same time getting down to their level to interact and play. Watching him with those kids made me love him even more.

Over time we began to share our hopes and dreams for the future and children were definitely on his agenda as well. One of our favourite games to play together during our time spent alone together was to banter back and forth with baby names. Eventually it would be reduced to the ridiculous; often times horrible ancient Latin and Greek names on his side would be countered with outlandish Victorian and German names from my side. It was at this point where the game would devolve and the names being bantered back and forth were no longer for our future progeny but instead meant for the dog or dogs we one day wanted to own in our happy little house.

Eventually in our first year together we agreed upon ‘Simon’ as our first son’s name. I was extremely reluctant at first and rather disliked the name, but his charm and persuasion won me over in the end. He never could reconcile himself to my favourite girl name, Jane, and fought me over it for years. He never did like any of the baby names I picked. After a while I quietly laid aside the name Jane and moved on. At the least I always figured I could name the little grey miniature Schnauzer I wanted Lady Jane Grey.

Roughly 9 months before we split I thought I was pregnant. When I had to call him from my University town to break the news I was extremely worried, but I knew it wasn’t the end of the world. We were both 22, going on 23, and set to graduate in less than 6 months. Unlike when we were teenagers I knew that having a baby at this point in our life wasn’t going to ruin everything. Granted it would have been hard, but we were adults and quite capable of supporting a child. I knew that I wouldn’t be going to Grad school right away and the time table for our wedding would have to be moved up by a couple of years, but I loved him and knew we would be alright. It would have been my life that would have changed more dramatically than his, since he could still go to grad school and do all the things he was planning on doing, while I would have put my plans on hold to support him and our unborn child. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make because I loved him unconditionally.

The reaction I got from him when I told him that I was late and thought I was pregnant was nothing like I expected. In fact it was a complete heartbreak for me. While I didn’t expect him to be overjoyed with the news I never could have predicted his reaction. He acted like I had ruined his life and absolutely could not function for the week or more I had to wait before I could get a pregnancy test. I spent the next week reassuring him, talking him through it and trying to help him get through the day and get all his academic work done. He acted like a man thoroughly broken and unable to continue because of the news. Not once did he ask how I was feeling or coping. Not once did he tell me he loved me and would be there for me regardless of what happened. He was unequivocally selfish and self-absorbed during this short time and it shattered my trust in him. I was devastated to learn that he just wasn’t the man I thought he was.

Somehow I managed to pick up the pieces and move forward. It turned out to be a false alarm. I had never been pregnant, and yet I never looked at him the same again. For several weeks afterwards he didn’t even want to touch me- like I was poison. Not only did I feel alone and abandoned after the whole experience I was now a pariah. I attribute the biggest reason for our downfall to this episode, even though he doesn’t realize it. Afterwards he had no idea that he was even treating me differently but it was there and was to remain between us for the next 9 months until I walked away from the relationship.

Perhaps it was my naivety that made me see myself with his children so soon into the relationship. Or maybe it was my absolute trust and unconditional love of him. Whatever it was, I haven’t seen myself with children in the future since then. I haven’t met a man since Mr. Intellectual that has made me envision bearing his children. Even though I’m with someone right now, I don’t see myself with his children. The whole notion is so foreign and the idea uncomfortably incongruent in my mind. I think I’m afraid to trust a man again in that way, but I hope one day I can get over that and see that not everyone is like Mr. I. Had I really been pregnant our baby would have been turning two this summer.

Humour, Part II

I ran across this site not too long ago after a nod from another blog I read daily and loved the idea. I'm already a huge fan of 18th and 19th century etchings and they just took it to a whole new level. I have of course added it to my ever expanding bookmarked list of websites to check back on daily.

A Baker's Dozen of Fun Facts

1. L.M. Mongtomery was my favourite author as a young girl.

2. I rarely wear matching bra and panty sets.

3. I’m a natural blonde and love it.

4. I reluctantly bought my first cell phone this past August under protest.

5. I love plain, ruffled potato chips and in the past have been known to eat an entire bag in one sitting.

6. The sight and/or sound of a street bike is a huge turn on for me.

7. I’ve never been dumped.

8. My longest relationship was 6 years and 2 months, while my shortest relationship was 2 weeks.

9. I like my coffee from Tim Hortons- large, double-double.

10. I currently weigh as much as I did in Highschool.

11. I have five brothers, (four of whom are older than I am), two sisters-in-law, a niece and a nephew.

12. My favourite flower is the iris.

13. I’m left handed.

"Because I was thinking of you..."

I feel spoiled. The man I've barely been seeing for two weeks now surprised me on Friday with a simple, yet elegant bouquet of three roses, with greenery and some tiny purple spring flowers, simply because he was driving past the floral shop on his way home and was missing me. It's an incredibly sweet gesture, especially since I haven't received flowers from a man in years. He said that I'm supposed to think of him when I look at them- he sure knows how to make sure I miss him while I'm away at school during the week. It doesn't hurt his cause to know that they came from the premiere floral store in the area, whose work I absolutely love!

Self-Sabotaging

“You will see as you go through life, as I have, that there are a number of people in the world who are afraid of success. They don't think they deserve it and as they approach success they sabotage it. Men have a tendency to do it in their careers, Bill Clinton is an example, and women have a tendency to do it through poor relationship choices. I suspect that there is some of that at work here; I don't think that she thinks she "deserves" happiness and so subconsciously is sabotaging it.”

A friend of mine recently wrote this to me about a woman that he is seeing, and how he’s processing the relationship as it breaks down and is slowly coming to a close. When I first read his words it felt like a kick in the stomach since this woman and his description of her behaviour could be me at times. I’ve often wondered off and on why I do the things that I do, and if I was doing it on purpose to set myself up for failure. Do I pick the “wrong” man and the hard road on purpose because I don’t believe I deserve better?

I think one of the biggest reasons for this is that I never expected to make it to my 20th birthday. Every birthday and every day since then is a bit of a surprise even though it really shouldn’t be, and yet as the days creep up towards the eve of my 25th birthday I wonder how I ever made it this far? I know half of the answer to that question is The Promise, but the other half of the answer eludes me. If I count up all the days that I’ve spent beat down, miserable, feeling less than human and horribly broken between the age of 20 and 25 they form the vast majority of my days. There is a period of almost 2 years that I can’t remember anything at all, that’s how dark they were. If I need help referencing a tidbit of my life during those years I have to call up Mr. Intellectual, check back in old day-timers, perhaps my journal if I could muster up the strength to write something down on paper or forever resign myself to a blank in my memory.

I never had a plan for my life past 19, and this what I still struggle with daily. Why am I still here, and what am I supposed to do with myself now? Do I really deserve to be here when so many good people who are so much more deserving than myself are being taken prematurely? I’m fucking up everything I have going for me because I’m afraid to reach out and take something I think I don’t deserve. I’m afraid I haven’t earned the opportunities I have, or the good people around me. I don’t understand how someone can love me when I can’t find anything in myself to love. So I sabotage it, because that is what I think I am worthy of.

I waste away my days instead of constructively pursuing the completion of my Master’s so that I’ll be ready to start that Ph.D in fall. I go out on dates with men who are less than ideal, and when someone really great comes along I cut and run, or find some reason not to be with them. I push away my girlfriends and isolate myself so that I can’t get hurt, and in the process I’m only hurting myself more.

I know that in the past I accepted behaviour from Mr. Intellectual that was totally unacceptable because I felt that I didn’t deserve better and had no right to ask for more. I feel completely hideous on the inside and fear anyone getting to know that side of me, so I settle for less because as far as I’m concerned that is as good as it’s going to get.

Music That Speaks...

I first heard of James Blunt a while ago and soon after downloaded his song, “Beautiful”. I never really went further to look up his other songs until recently. If I could write poetry or music I think his CD could have come straight from my heart. His song “Goodbye My Lover” is particularly poignant and talks to me in a way that no other song has. It’s like he’s had a relationship and the loss of it just like Mr. Intellectual and I had. The last CD I bought was David Grey’s White Ladder so it’s time to open up my wallet again in the name of great British musicians.

Goodbye My Lover

Did I disappoint you or let you down?
Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?
'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,
Yes I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.
So I took what's mine by eternal right.
Took your soul out into the night.
It may be over but it won't stop there,
I am here for you if you'd only care.
You touched my heart you touched my soul.
You changed my life and all my goals.
And love is blind and that I knew when,
My heart was blinded by you.
I've kissed your lips and held your head.
Shared your dreams and shared your bed.
I know you well, I know your smell.
I've been addicted to you.

Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.

I am a dreamer but when I wake,
You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.
And as you move on, remember me,
Remember us and all we used to be
I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile.
I've watched you sleeping for a while.
I'd be the father of your child.
I'd spend a lifetime with you.
I know your fears and you know mine.
We've had our doubts but now we're fine,
And I love you, I swear that's true.
I cannot live without you.

Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.

And I still hold your hand in mine.
In mine when I'm asleep.
And I will bear my soul in time,
When I'm kneeling at your feet.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.
I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.

The video is pretty great too.

Lies

There is very little that actual brings me to anger. However, the fastest way to make me angry is if I catch you in a lie. I don’t know what it is about lies that turns my blood cold and immediately causes me to become upset. During the 6-year tenure with Mr. Intellectual I constantly caught him lying to me, and it became a source of great disappointment. Perhaps the most upsetting aspect of his lies is how unnecessary they were since they generally came in the form of little white lies and exaggerations. When I asked him once why he lied so much about such trivial things he said that he did it to make his life seem more interesting, to make people like him more. Every time I caught him fibbing little details of a story in a social situation I would not only become silently irritated but also embarrassed. When he pulled it on me during our alone time it was hurtful and I felt disrespected- like he didn’t think enough of me to just be himself and not embellish on the truth, or that he expect I was too stupid to see through it.

I understand the big lies, not that I condone them, but it is the trivial little white lies that I have no patience for. For me, lying is a deal breaker. Ever since Mr. Intellectual I have made it a rule not to tolerate lying, especially not the little ones. I expect and deserve a certain level of trust and honesty with the man I choose to have a relationship with. I’d rather be alone than settle for any less after trying to come to terms with it for six years.

Email Flirtations

“Beautiful girl, smart, funny...complete package, what else can I say.”

This little gem popped into my inbox yesterday from someone who makes me smile. I think I’m smitten but scared to just let go and give into it. We’re having dinner together Friday night and I’m really excited about getting a chance to see him again.

Talking Without Words

I don’t remember what precipitated this moment or how we ended up embraced together on the couch equally sharing in the nightmare that was my depression at that point. However, it is a night that I will never forget and was never replicated for some reason. For that one night he did everything right and I was comforted. A rare and precious gift to the deeply depressed.

I was overcome with the kind of despair and sadness where words failed me. But instead of trying to draw me out of my shell and explain what was going on in my head he just gathered me up in his arms without a word. We lay on the couch together with my head nestled under his chin and my ear pressed into his chest, listening to the slow and steady beating of his heart. And I cried. While he held me silently, I cried and cried out my pain until it wasn’t just mine, but ours.

As the minutes slowly passed in silence, only broken by the crackle of the fire and the sound of his heartbeat in my ear, I found peace. While I cried, he said nothing but held me tightly, one hand softly running up and down my back, caressing my skin and soothing me. We stayed like that long after my tears had subsided and long after the fire had died down. We lay silently in the dark together and somehow without a single word passing between us, we came to an understanding and a resolution. Somewhere in that shared experience I found the strength to go on.

I knew that everything was going to be ok and you could handle it. Your actions told me that for the first time and I will always be thankful for that evening we spent together. Even now, long after we’ve gone our separate ways I remember that night when I am alone and struggling. I know that on some level you will always be by my side in the darkness and for that I love you.

Late Nights and First Kisses

“You’re not still upset about me ditching you on Monday, are you?” I teased.

“Yes,” he replied softly, intently watching me. His eyes pierced through me and I had to look away as an impudent grin flashed across my lips.

His eyes never wavered from my face. The air between us was electric and heavy as the hour grew late. Months of shameless flirting off the ice and intense competition on the ice had culminated in this moment and here we sat, in an empty parking lot as the clock crept closer and closer to sunrise.

“You’re going to hold it over me forever, aren’t you?” I countered back as I finally lifted my eyes towards him.

“Probably.”

“So,” I said with a sigh, “what are we going to do about that?”

“You could come over here and try to make it up to me.”

A smile played over his face and there was a glimmer in his eye as he slightly leaned closer to me.

I took a breath and leaned over, my eyes closing as our lips met for the first time. The kiss was soft, yet insistent and passionate. All his bravado and ego seemed to melt away in that moment as our hands entwined and the kiss grew deeper. Reluctantly our lips parted and I rested my head on his shoulder while looking up into his eyes.

“Still upset with me?” I whispered.

“Maybe…”

I laughed as I reached up to caress his hair and bring his head lower so I could kiss him again.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” He said quietly, almost to himself, after we parted for the second time. His hand played through my hair and stroked my cheek as we just grinned at each other, the sun turning the inky darkness a soft mottled pink around the horizon.

Car Trouble

“I really appreciate your Dad looking at my car the other day. I hope he didn’t mind.”

“No, it was fine. He likes that kind of thing. He was just a little surprised to see you is all.”

“Well, tell him again I said thanks.”

There is a pause in the conversation as I watch the scenery pass on our way back to the University town. It is a sunny, warm day for early November and very reminiscent of our drives together as a happy couple.

“He said you looked sad.”

“Oh…” I reply, as I turned silently to look out the window, tears welling up in my eyes as I try to will myself not to let any tears fall down my cheek.

A day earlier I had run into some trouble with my car overheating unexpectedly, while in Mr. Intellectual’s neighbourhood. For some reason my cell phone had died on me and I didn’t know where else to go. It only seemed natural to stop at his house to borrow the phone and get a little help. It had been over a year since I had last seen either of his parents and I don’t think he’s spoken to them about what happened between us, or that we’re still friends. All they know is I don’t call or come over anymore and he’s dating someone else who they have yet to meet.

Why is it?

Why is it that when I'm sad I eat, and when I'm angry I drink?

Why is it that I have no idea how to attract the nice guy that I like, but it's all too easy to attract Mr. Wrong?

Why is it that continued interactions with Mr. Intellectual make me feel depressed and completely worthless?

And why is it that if this is the case, I continue doing the things I do?

Self Esteem

I wake up in the morning and look at myself in the mirror. I stare deeply into the dark green eyes looking back at me from the girl in the mirror. I marvel at the shape of her full lips and the curve of her neck as it meets the jaw line. The tousle of blonde hair fresh from bed elicits a small grin and for that moment, alone in the silence of the early morning I believe I am beautiful. In that moment as I look myself in the eyes I know I am a smart, capable young woman who is every bit as beautiful and accomplished as any other woman.

Reality, or unreality, sets in as soon as I walk out the door and I am flooded with a sense of shame when I see the other women I thought I could compete with. All appearances of confidence melt away as each passing woman is sized up and I am found lacking- they’re thinner, better hair, better skin, perfect make up and more ‘put together’ clothes. It doesn’t matter that in the darkest recesses of my unconscious mind I know I am just as gorgeous and probably smarter than these women, but my self-esteem can’t compete with the constant loop of negative chatter in my head. It is like this all the time.

This is what bothered me the most in my previous conversation with Mr. Intellectual. She is better than me. I was never able to measure up, no matter how selfless I was, no matter how generous I was with my time, with my heart, with a million little things I did for him. In the end, I just wasn’t good enough. I felt it in the relationship and now that he’s found someone else I am reminded of it almost every time we speak. She’s thinner, more sexually adventurous, happier, smarter, and more worldly. The list goes on and on. However, the most telling thing for me is his behaviour towards her. More specifically the things he would do for her and has done for her that in six years together he couldn’t or wouldn’t do for me. Actions speak louder than words and in a couple of days he will be flying a continent away to spend over a month with her in Europe. He couldn’t even find the time for almost two years to come visit me just over an hour away at my University.

Rose of Sharon

When I'm not busy with MA things and work I enjoy cross-stitching. I recently started a new pattern, Mirabilia's "Rose of Sharon." I don't know exactly how many hours I've worked on it so far but my best guess is somewhere around 15-20 hours. I was hopping to give it to my mother for her birthday, but I know I won't be remotely close to finishing this piece before April 3rd. So, perhaps I'll give it to her for Christmas?

This is what it will look like when I'm all finished. 'Rose of Sharon' is the second piece I've stitched on linen. The first one took me almost 2 years to finish, partially because I let it sit in my drawer for nearly 9 months, and partially because it took me a while to become comfortable stitching on linen. All my other projects had been done on aida cloth and were all quite small in comparision.



















Mirabilia's Rose of Sharon

“…it was an 8, or 9.”

Maybe I was asking to get hurt, but last night for some reason Mr. Intellectual and I got into a discussion about our former relationship over MSN. The crux of our conversation focused around our sex life after wandering around a few other avenues I was curious about- like when I packed on the pounds near the end of our relationship and I got “a little…big” as he phrased it. One very interesting revelation he brought forth of his own volition was that he finally took a cold hard look in the mirror and realized he was, in his words, a “conceited little twat” and is now trying to rectify the situation. Not an easy thing to do and I’m happy he finally acknowledged one of the main reasons why I had to leave, although I’m not sure he’s made that connection since he did not express that.

So, what precipitated the talk on our former love life? Curiousity finally got the better of me and in a moment where we were discussing things with a level of honesty we haven’t shared in quite some time I just flat out asked. While the answer was somewhat surprising to me, it wasn’t all that unexpected. Overall he rated our sex life an 8 or 9 out of 10, with one of the biggest problems being quantity over quality. We lived over an hour apart for the better part of 4 years and he rarely came up to see me at school, so that was always a major source of contention and an obvious damper on the frequency scale. He also stated that he would ideally like sex twice a day, everyday, which was a bit of a surprise since we rarely did that even when we had the entire weekend together with no interruptions.

There were two areas in what he called, ‘fundamentals’ that were lacking in order to make it a 9 or 10 all the time. What was it that would bump me up to a 9 or 10? Anal sex. While he includes this as part of the fundamentals of good sex, along with blowjobs and a multitude of positions I see it as more of an extra. I always knew he was extremely interested in trying this out, but whenever I tried to discuss it seriously with him he’d joke around and shy away from it. My basic stance on anal is that if my partner agrees to go first then I’ll gladly give it a shot. However, after a couple of years with him I was open to the idea, but it was one of those things that I wasn’t going to do without discussing it first and agreeing on a few things. He could never talk about it honestly with me, so it never happened. He described it as being quite amazing and a very intimate act, while I replied that it has an element of the dominant/subordinate relationship that I wasn’t all that into along with a measure of humility.

The second factor that prevented me from achieving that mythical 10 were my knees. I badly injured my knees at 16 while snowboarding in an ice storm and had trouble spending a lot of time on them. I don’t think it helped that shortly thereafter I started spending extended periods on me knees in his parents basement on a concrete floor covered with a cheap, high-traffic pile carpet with little to no padding. Don’t get me wrong it was fun at the time, but not the smartest thing for my poor knees. The consequence for my stupidity was that I had to be careful during sex so as not to cause more pain. Which meant that I couldn’t do woman on top, or the doggy position for too long before my knees would be in too much pain and I’d have to switch to something else. This was always a disappointment to him and I knew it, so that response came as no surprise. It didn’t help that my subsequent weight gain exacerbated the condition. Surprisingly my knees are doing a lot better these days. I lost the weight and I started working out and stretching to strengthen the muscles, tendons and ligaments in my knees and I rarely, if ever, experience the kind of pain I was in during our relationship.

Overall his answers were not all that unexpected in and of themselves. I knew that I was giving him what he wanted and unselfishly giving of myself to the point were it became a one way street, while he had no idea how unsatisfied I was at times. His selfishness spilled over into the bedroom and it affected how I felt and responded to him. I started to withdraw sexually months and even years prior to our break up because I wasn’t getting what I needed from him outside the bedroom to feel completely uninhibited when we were together. The natural giver in me started to die because it wasn’t being nurtured and appreciated. The reciprocation and consideration were missing and it led to a lot of hurt feelings and resentment, even to this day. The legacy of which has spilled over into my subsequent relationships, or lack thereof and cause me a great amount of concern.

It Wasn't All That Bad

I know I’ve talked a lot of angst and hurt feelings between Mr. Intellectual and I, however it was not all that bad. In fact when it worked, it worked very well between the two of us and I miss a lot of that.

I miss ‘rummaging’ in the couch together, which entailed cuddling, tickling, kissing, watching movies, laughing together and most importantly spooning for hours on end.

I miss cooking dinner together, and how he’d wrap his arms around my stomach and cradle his chin on my shoulder while I stirred the pasta or we waited for something to bake in the oven. He’d nuzzle behind my ear and kiss the back of my neck, which was a well-known weakness I had. Every time we did this together I’d fall in love with him all over again.

I miss our late night talks in front of the dying embers of a fire, wrapped in a blanket and entwined together as we discussed politics, current events, history, philosophy, movies, school, books, and how much we loved each other.

I miss catching his eye across a crowded room and the silent understanding that would pass between us like lightening.

I miss cradling his head on my chest while I ran my fingers through his hair and we dreamed in silence together.

I miss how it felt when we made love. The smell and feel of his skin and the way his pupils would dilate until I couldn’t see the ice blue of his irises anymore, just the intense darkness of his pupils as we locked eyes. Until the day I die I will never forget his eyes. They were one of the first things I noticed and the last thing I will forget about him. They are an incredible shade of blue, with a small dot of brown in the left eye right beside the pupil. He hated that ‘flaw’, but I loved it because it was part of what made him, him.

I miss driving around in the car together with our hands entwined over the gearshift.

I miss tracing the curves and shapes of his naked body with my fingers. Feeling the muscle and bone structure and how everything fit so perfectly together.

But mostly, I just miss how happy we were to be together and it didn’t matter what we were doing, what mattered is that we were doing it together.

Emotional Blackmail

For the last several months I’ve allowed a “friend” to emotionally blackmail me. Why? Part of me just didn’t want to deal with it and the instability that this person exhibited. I had bigger things going on and I have difficulty standing up for myself at the best of times. I was hoping against hope that the person would come to and exhibit a newfound maturity and we could perhaps be real friends. Obviously that hasn’t happened and most likely won’t.

Today I stood up for myself. After another confusing and angry outburst from the “friend” over email I could not sit back any more and allow myself to be controlled by their actions. I’m fed up with allowing people to walk all over me so I firmly, but politely severed all contact. It is something that I have been trying to do for the past 5 months or so.

Next I need to work on the skills necessary for a polite rejection. I’m horrible with letting men who are interested in dating me know that I’m not interested in a second or third date. Like the typical woman I have difficulty being assertive. I absolutely hate confrontation and disappointing people, especially if I have to see them again in the future. However, by not making my feelings known and standing up for myself I only make things worse and unnecessarily allow it to negatively affecting my daily life.

Fortune Cookie Fun

For my Grandparents 60th Wedding Anniversary earlier this year, the entire extended famly all went to a really great chinese restaurant to celebrate. After dinner we were presented with fortune cookies, as is the custom. Mine read as follows:

"You are an interesting and attractive subject."

This was three days after I had to call the police to escort the man who was stalking me off my property and out of my life. I just laughed.

A Time Before Television

Have you ever wondered what people did with themselves in the evening before the invention of the television or even radio? While doing some research I came across this article in the "Children's Corner" section of an 1889 magazine called The Farmer's Advocate. This picture is from the December issue, and it accompanied a rather lengthy article on how to put on your proper shadow puppet theatre, including various sound effects aimed to please your younger siblings.



The caption reads, "Fun for Christmas Evenings." So, I'm guessing that this was only done as a special treat? The shadow puppets are labeled from top left to right- The bird on the Wing; Pussy-cat; The Wolf; The Angry Swan; The French Soldier; The Jockey on Horseback; The Greyhound; The Soldier Laughing; The Elephant. I have no idea if some of these configurations are even possible.

Depression and Maintaining a Relationship

I know that when I’m in the midst of a bout of depression I have difficulty maintaining relationships of any kind whether it is with friends, family or a significant other. In the end, as difficult as this is to admit it was my depression that effectively ended my marriage-bound relationship with Mr. Intellectual. It was like getting a divorce after that many years together and the division of property and emotions that resulted from our dissolution of the relationship was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I still have lingering questions and wonder what I could have done differently to stop it from happening. In the end after he moved into the same University town as I was in and begun dealing with me and my depression on a daily basis it quickly became too much for him. The realization of this hit me like a cold hard slap and I slumped into a deeper depression for the next few months while I tried to wrap my head around that knowledge. To say that I was disappointed was an understatement.

After a few months of struggling through an increasingly worsening relationship I ended it with him. That night is like a blur in my head and still brings tears to my eyes when I think of it today. The memory is still too painful and raw to write about yet. I couldn’t be with a man who resented my depression and had a look of resignation in his eyes when he looked at me- not love. I wanted to set him free to find someone who could show him a full and healthy relationship, free of the torments of chronic depression. I wanted him to be happy and I knew that wouldn’t happen with me. So, as much as I loved him I let him go. I think he’s happy with his new girl, but I guess I’ll never really know what happens between the two of them since outward appearances can be so deceiving.

The end result is that I’m afraid to start up a relationship with someone new. I’m afraid of their reaction towards my depression when it finally emerges and the possibility that they too will feel deceived- that the depression wasn’t part of the initial deal and they will not want to take that on. I don’t ever again want to look into the eyes of a man I love only to see rejection where love once was.

Knowing all this, it was with trepidation that I accepted an invitation for drinks on Friday with a man whom I’ve hung out with casually for a while now. We get along really well, but I have that nagging doubt that this too won’t work out when reality makes its appearance. He’s kind, sympathetic and clearly wants to be with me, so much so that he’s actually driven almost 100 miles just so that we could have lunch together before driving all the way back home in time for work. He has put himself out for me already and is looking to move our friendship to the next level. I feel like at this point I’m stable and secure enough with myself and being on my own that I can enter into a relationship without looking for the other person to make me happy, but I’m wondering about the wisdom of this? Have I put Mr. I. and what we shared behind me enough that it won’t interfere with something new? More importantly though, is it really fair for me to ask a man to take me on knowing that even though today might be a good day, the depression is definitely going to be back no matter what, over and over again…

A Snow Day

It was snowing. Those great big white flakes that lie heavily on each individual tree limb and etch their form against a steel grey sky. You were a gentleman. And I, I was at ease with you like I have not been with any man in years. We talked while the snow swirled outside, oblivious to the storm. A cup of coffee snuggled between my hands and the width of a couch between us, but the warmth of a smile bringing us closer.

We walked slowly through the snow and I showed you the changes in the landscape since you had been here last. I’m not sure how much of it you actually took in, but I know you did not miss a smile or a single stolen glance. You were complimentary and inquisitive and I wanted to take your arm as we strolled through the freshly fallen snow, but I demurred. Unsure of how the touch of my hand on your arm would be received, I put the thought out of my mind and we continued on.

In a dimly lit pub, almost as old as the city itself you shared bits and pieces of your life with me over drinks and lunch. Surrounded by rough-hewn wood beams and fieldstone walls you opened up to me. Soon our time together drew to a close as the commitments of real life pressed down on us, and our stolen moment was savoured for just a few minutes longer.

We promised to meet again soon and as I walked off alone into the falling snow I knew it would never quite be the same as those few borrowed hours.

Occupational Hazard?

Early last week I was working from home trying to get a few things done in anticipation of the start of the Winter Semester. At one point I leaned over to pick up a textbook from my floor and somehow, either through the weight of it or my awkward one handed grab I managed to pull a muscle in my shoulder! The whole incident would have been hilarious if it wasn’t for how tragically pathetic it is, compounded with the annoyance that a week later I am still in pain over that book. Despite the fact that it probably only weighed in around 5 pounds or so, the shoulder must have been wrenched worse than I thought since I’m having problems working at my desk for extended periods. I’m guessing it’s a combination of shoulder injury and poor posture that leaves me hunched up in pain. As a grad student it’s my job to lug around books and I can’t even seem to do that properly!

When I regaled my hockey team with the tale over post-game drinks at the local bar I was heckled for obvious reasons. I’m now accepting applications for a research assistant, namely someone to shuffle my books too and fro for me so I can avoid any more injury. Any takers?

2006 World Junior's

Congratulations boys, you've earned it. Thanks for a great game.

Life is Annoying

I woke up this morning to the sound of the garbage truck on my street. Before I could register that yes, that is indeed the garbage truck and no, I didn’t manage to put out my garbage last night, it had moved past my house. By the time I bolted out of bed and down to the front window to see if maybe they were just starting my street, the truck had bypassed my empty driveway in favour of my neighbour’s house. I definitely did not want to be that woman on my street who chases after the garbage men in her pajama’s with a severe case of bed-head, garbage bags in tow. I avoided the humiliation and ambled back to bed, cursing silently for missing pick-up. I’m still new to the neighbourhood and trying to figure out the pick-up schedule with the Holiday’s thrown in is not coming easy. I’ll just have to live with an extra bag of garbage and recycling in my kitchen until next week as penance.

Fingerprints of Influence

Spending a significant amount of time at my parents place is a lot like regressing back in time. After three consecutive days in my old bedroom long forgotten memories of high school and my early childhood come creeping back in, some unwelcome but others treasured. It’s not surprising that this should happen since nothing significant has changed in my room since I left for University about 6 years ago. All the same pictures are still up including the painting Mr. Intellectual bought me for our second Christmas, which is hung above my bed, and the picture his father took of us before we left for his high school prom, which sits on my dresser. I thought about putting them away but just couldn’t bring myself to alter my childhood room, even if those pictures serve as a constant reminder of what isn’t in my life at the moment. The pictures that cause the most painful memories are tucked safely away in a drawer.

Seeing these things got me to thinking of him, the time we spent together and how much he has shaped and influenced the person that I am now. I feel like he has left invisible fingerprints all over me that I can’t always see, but are there. Places where he has pressed softly into my skin with a single finger, left an impression, and unalterably changed me. At times the recognition of one imprint of influence appears to me in a most surprising way like my desire to get a miniature schnauzer one day soon, while other fingerprints are intrinsically known to me, like my passion for history. It all began when he encouraged me to take that course in Modern Western Civilizations in my final year in high school despite my avowed dislike of all things to do with history. It would take me almost a year in University to figure out that I really wasn’t cut out for my degree in Psychology and that the siren song of a History degree was calling out to me instead. It’s a choice that I have no regrets making, and in the end it was one of the best things that he has brought into my life.

Mr. I also broadened my literary horizons by introducing me to books that I otherwise would never have given a chance. While I am an avid reader I’m also cautious about new authors, especially if it means purchasing the book since I’m much more careful with money than he is. He threw caution to the wind and bought new books with a sense of abandon that I envy, since I always want to make sure that each book I purchase will be a loved edition to my library. In the end it was I who benefited the most since he introduced me to books on political commentary, philosophy, humour, all time periods of history and obscure writers of the most amazing fiction I had ever read. I still appreciate when he recommends something new to me, although at one point in our relationship I resisted and ignored his choices since it was such a one sided tutelage that I grew to resent.

I realize now that when we met at 17 I was a sponge, hungry for knowledge and open to be influenced. So, I soaked up his musical tastes, favourite books, passion for movies, interests and just about anything he could teach me. He on the other was very much closed off to any influence I may have had on his life and at times openly resisted it. I look at the man he is today and wonder if there are any lasting imprints made by me in our six years together, or if like water off a ducks back I am just a passing memory. I remember the way he would mock my musical choices, deride the fiction I read and turn up his nose at any movie selection I made to the point where I started to shut down. I became more passive to avoid argument and deferred to his choices because it was just easier than standing up for my personal tastes. There were so many movies that I chose that he turned up his nose at but resignedly went to see with me, only to love them later often without telling me until much, much later. It was infuriating and hurtful and rankled with me because I didn’t understand why he was like this.

In the end I know that he is the one that missed out, and my life has been enriched by the new influences I found in him. However, that doesn’t stop me from feeling a profound sadness when I examine him now, only to see a blank slate where I expected to see lasting impressions of my influence over his life. When I look in his eyes I don’t see mirrored there a love of fine art, an interest in photography or the desire to collect antiques. Instead I see nothing of myself or what we shared together beyond the memories we hold in common and although I may be the person who knows him in the most complete sense because of our 8 years of close friendship, I still know so little about him and he seems to know almost nothing of me.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year to my regular reader's, all two of you, and those who happen by. Santa brought me the flu for Christmas so I took a few days to recover from that. I'll be posting more regularily I hope in the new year. Happy 2006!

Who Am I?

Nike of Samothrace, circa 200BC, Artist Unknown.

This week a person dropped by the site and left me a comment. MC asked a few questions that I’ll attempt to answer now. This is a post I’ve struggled with for months, namely, who am I? Part of the reason I began writing in this space was to find myself again. After I broke up with Mr. Intellectual I woke up to the fact that over the years I had lost myself. I lost touch with who I am and what I really wanted out of this life. It is the over-riding question that drives me- not why am I here, but rather who am I?

I first saw the ‘Nike of Samothrace’ sculpture when I was 14, in a high school art class. Also know as ‘Winged Victory’, it spoke to me in a way that a piece of art had never done before. There was something about the way the fabric strained against her body, her wings in flight against the wind all rendered in marble, that amazed me. So much so, that I didn’t even notice that her arms and head were missing for quite some time. I still find this work to be incredibly beautiful and inspiring. I remember that I photocopied that picture and it remained tacked to my bulletin board for years to serve as an inspiration and muse. After that I took a deeper interest in Art, but it wouldn’t be until University that Art History became a minor passion of mine.

Apart from the depression that runs deep through my life, an appreciation and passion for fine art is a second stream that makes up who I am. I view the world as though it is being framed up for a painting, a photograph or to be rendered as a sculpture. It is so much a part of me, and yet I rarely carry around my camera anymore, or even sketch out pictures. Somewhere along the way, I put aside the artistic side of myself since it didn’t really meet with much approval from Mr. Intellectual. It makes me sad that my adolescent self stopped cultivating the humble art skills I possess simply because the man I loved wasn’t all that interested and didn’t care to learn about it. Instead I cultivated my passion for art by taking an Art History minor in my undergrad. I wasn’t able to get a full double major out of it because it would have meant taking a fifth year, and I was eager to graduate. I'm sad that this is one of the "sacrifices" I believed I had to make for the success of the relationship.

As for the other questions, MC: am I an actual person? Yes, I am. I’m a graduate student who is trying to complete a Master’s degree in Canadian history. Do I have a real job? Well, in the summer I work on contract for the Government, but for various reasons I can’t speak about my job or disclose where exactly I work. Do I work with real people? My winter “job” of the degree is pretty isolating and I rarely see any of my fellow students and colleagues unless I go out of my way to seek out their company. I’d love to talk about my summer coworkers, since there are some really fascinating and colourful characters there, but again that’s off limits if I ever want to return.

As for who I am, I’m not really sure, to be honest. I guess you’ll just have to keep reading if you really want to find that out, since I'm just beginning to figure that out myself. Previously I’ve defined myself by my relationship and my job and now that both of those things have crumbled away I’m having a difficult time figuring out who I really am, stripped bare and all alone. I don’t want to define myself by external forces anymore and yet I am reluctant to completely give them up. Which is why I struggle with my residual feelings for Mr. I, and the possibility that I may never be able to return to my summer job unless I can transfer to another location. What I do know is that I need to find out who the woman that I stare at in the mirror every morning is and be comfortable with that again. In the meantime I’ll continue to strain against the adversity I face, just like the Nike I love so much.

Worth A Rewind

I was watching the movie, Love Actually tonight since it's getting closer to Christmas and I'm not really feeling it yet. So, what better way to get in the mood than to watch a romantic comedy set around the holidays?

Hugh Grant plays the British Prime Minister, and the scene where he dances to the Pointer Sisters', "Jump (For My Love)" through #10 Downing Street really is worth rewinding to watch a second time! Hugh really is too cute for words sometimes. As long as you don't remind me about his mishap with Divine Brown.

Philosophy Lesson's From Miss E

Today has been an introspective day for me. I woke up in silence and I’ll probably spend the entire day without saying a word since I have nowhere to go and I live alone. On days like today I spend a lot of time in my head, which may or may not be a good thing. I’m still grappling with what has happened to me in the past month and trying to make sense of something that makes absolutely no sense. I’m finding it hard to just accept it and move on without satisfactorily answering the why of it all. I will never know why he chose to become obsessed with me to the point where it ended with me hiding in my bedroom closet, in hysterical tears on the phone with a 911 operator, while he pounded on my front door- yelling at me. In situations like this I’m not even sure there is an answer.

It reminds me though of a conversation I had this past summer with my niece. Little Miss E was about two and half years old at this point. We were hanging out at my parent’s house playing with my childhood Fisher Price Little People’s Schoolhouse set and reading books. During a lull in the play she noticed a mosquito bite on my calf that I was itching. I unfortunately have a bad reaction to mosquito bites that result in angry red welts the size of quarters that eventually turn black and blue.


“What’s that?” She asked while pointing at my leg.

“A mosquito bite,” I replied, “But it doesn’t hurt, it’s just a little itchy.”

She sat looking at my bite and pondered this for a moment before responding.

“You’re tough Aunt Jane. Soon it will be better.” She said with a little nod of her head.

I couldn’t help but smile at her stoicism.


Today as I sat mulling over the events of the past month while watching the snow fly out my new front window on a new street that I’m still getting used to, our earlier conversation came to mind. She was right too- I am tough! Soon it will be better…

Disclosure

This wasn’t the topic I was going to write about today, but after looking at my statcounter I found a person who stumbled across this blog after doing a search for, “Should I tell my thesis advisor I am depressed?”

To that question I give a resounding, “Yes!” This is especially true if it’s affecting your work performance and ability to perform on a daily basis. However, there are some things you should do prior to disclosing what is going on in your life. I’ve had to disclose my depression at various points in my academic career and it’s always a drag. If your University or College has counseling services or a good medical clinic I suggest going there first and getting a formal note or diagnosis. Having backup proof always helps your cause. Secondly, don’t just spring it on them- set up an appointment to see your advisor and give them a soft opener, usually done through email. A good way that I’ve found to phrase this is to tell them that they might have noticed an uncharacteristic performance out of you as of late and you’d like to speak with them about it. Then when you sit down, have planned out what you’d like to discuss and what aspects of your private life you just don’t want to tell them, or think they don’t need to know. Write it out in bullet points before hand and bring it in with you. It helps to have crib notes so you don’t forget what you want to say if you start to get nervous or emotional.

All academic institutions have a policy to deal with these situations and sadly they’re all too common. Depression and graduate studies seem to go hand in hand for some reason and trust me you’re not the first or even the last student to deal with this. Your advisor needs to know what’s going on in order to help you as best they can, which essentially is their job- they are there to guide you through your degree, not just judge your performance and work.

Another helpful tip is to have a game plan. Certainly let them know what you’ve been dealing with as of late and then outline what you’re doing to rectify the situation, whether it’s therapy, drugs, changing status from full to part time to alleviate stress, or even taking a semester leave of absence. Let them know that you are working to change the situation and not just wallowing in your problems. If you’re not sure what to do ask them for their opinion on what they think might be beneficial to your project or thesis in relation to your personal problems. Admit that you’re not sure how to work with your project and your depression and ask them what’s worked in the past with some of their other students. Either way let them know that you are actively trying to work on this and find a solution.

I just went through this whole process recently when I disclosed not only to my family and friends but my entire thesis committee that I had been dealing with criminal harassment (a stalker). As a result of the fear I was living in, and in the last few weeks of not being able to leave my apartment unless escorted by a friend, my work obviously suffered. It was a hard thing to admit that I had basically pissed away the past 12-week semester and had absolutely nothing to show for my time here. It was a personal failure for me, and embarrassing not to mention emotional for me to get this out in the open. I felt so foolish and yet relieved. My committee has been nothing but supportive and understanding. The chair of the department has reassured me that he’s seen this before in lesser and more severe degrees, which saddens me- that other students had to deal with this too. I feel like I’ve been given a clean slate to once again prove myself next semester and I couldn’t be more pleased with how this turned out all things considered. It really is a relief to get it out in the open.

...And Counting

I was talking with someone online last night and as the conversation turned to dating I realized that it’s been almost 9 months since I went out on a real date. I had to really think back to when my last date, (where I dressed up, he picked me up and we went somewhere alone to get to know each other), even happened. The number I finally came to actually surprised me since I hadn’t really thought about it before. I started thinking about a few other significant numbers. Like a year and half, the amount of time since Mr. Intellectual and I called it quits. He has been happily seeing someone for the past six months where as I have had a 9 month drought without even realizing it.

The strange thing is that I have been out more in the past 9 months than I have in years. I’m getting out and doing more group things, meeting up with friends, going to the bar on occasion, hanging out with my hockey team after the game and going out with the siblings to celebrate birthdays and weddings and a number of Stag & Doe’s. I have met a lot of new people in the past 9 months and I have yet to go on a date as a result- but I barely noticed until last night. Part of that has to do with the drama surrounding the Stalkerazzi, but another part of me just doesn’t seem to care.

As I sit here and try to cobble together a more normal life, one where I’m not constantly afraid and looking over my shoulder, I’m slowly awakening to the fact that I miss the companionship that a relationship or even occasional date provides. I’m also very aware of the fact that it would be a mistake to enter into a relationship right now and also grossly unfair to that person because of what I’m trying to come to terms with at the moment. Before I can consider allowing another person into my life in a serious way I need to deal with the demons that have emerged from the criminal harassment and put them to rest.

I need to find my purpose again, I need to reconnect with what drives me and fulfills me. I need to recapture that excitement that my thesis project inspired in me when I began this journey of a masters degree. I need to put aside the mantle of survival mode and start to live life again with a different purpose, one that I’m happy pursuing with or without someone by my side. In short I need to find my confidence again.

Currently Making Me Smile

Upon hearing of my 'situation' with the criminal harassment:

“Just give me a ski-mask, all I need is a ski-mask.”

Life is Officially Different Now

All I want to do right now is cry and yet I’m afraid if I let myself start I won’t be able to stop. So much has happened in the past two weeks and has changed everything. A part of me is hesitant to write about it because that means that this is and has really happened and I can’t turn back now.

Over the last 2 months now the FB has morphed into a stalker when I refused to enter into a committed relationship and tried to break it all off. He has officially become the one who “wont take no for an answer”. It all came to a head two weeks ago after he showed up at my apartment uninvited and unannounced, behaving erratically, and forcing me to call 9-1-1 while hiding in my closet close to hysterics. After that happened my life has been in an uproar.

I was forced to move in a three-day period in conjunction with explaining to my parents and siblings what happened causing them to be both worried for my safety and furious at his actions. Then I had to email my thesis supervisor who is currently battling breast-cancer, to explain my predicament and apologize for my uncharacteristic behaviour this semester and severe lack of work to show for the last few months of researching and writing time. I also lost my summer job over this because we worked together and I can’t go back there because that would open me up to more criminal harassment. Now my ability to support myself without a loan or help from my parents has been compromised and I’m extremely worried about how I’ll be able to afford Grad School. I also have to resign myself to staying in my University town over the summer semester in order to finish up if I have any hope of graduating this year and starting my Ph.D this fall. This also means any hopes and plans I had of traveling to the Netherlands this summer to begin my Ph.D research have been completely cut out.

Ever since he showed up at my apartment and turned my life upside-down I’ve been all keyed up. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder and I’m anxious every time I leave my parents house in my hometown because that’s where he lives and works. He knows my general movements there since I go home every weekend to play in a hockey league. I’m furious that my life has changed so dramatically and all he’s had to suffer is a “broken heart” and some confusion since he doesn’t understand why I acted the way I did. He seemed to believe I was his soul mate despite the fact that I professed not to believe in soul mates and wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

Above all I am furious. I’m furious that the laws in Ontario won’t allow me to arrest and charge him at this point. I’m furious that my future educational plans are in jeopardy. I’m furious that he basically gets off scot-free with no consequences while I’m out a good paying job that I enjoyed and excelled at. I’m furious that I had to leave my beautiful apartment and move into a house with roommates. I’m furious that my family and friends are all worried about my safety. I’m furious that I feel anxious every time the phone rings, or I leave the house or even when I check my email. Most of all I’m furious for how helpless I feel.

Despite all this, I’m grateful for my family who has been nothing less than fantastic through all this. My youngest brother allowed me to hide out in his dorm room for a few days before I could move, my Mom dealt with my landlady because I was too upset, my Dad dropped everything to help me move out of my old place and into my new house all in one day. My oldest brother called up a few of his police buddies to find out exactly what I could do about this and what my rights were. Brother’s 2 and 4 went and spoke to the stalker in a public setting, in an attempt to get him to leave me alone. This happened a week before he showed up here, after he called my parents house in a panic trying to gain information about me through brother #4. At this point I had cut off all contact for 5 days and was refusing to engage him anymore. I’m now living beside brother #3 who is keeping an eye on me and being very supportive, including giving me free internet, which is really a live saver at this point. I don’t know where I’d be right now without the support of my family.

A Moment in Time

This morning as I was reading through my daily dose of blogs I came to realize that right now I far more enjoy reading other people’s sites than I do updating my own. There are so many things I have thought about writing and started out putting down and yet they never come to fruition. My time has been pulled in innumerable directions and yet it seems like I never get to finish one thing I’ve started before I’m pulled in yet another direction.

Right now I’m hiding out from marking my students big essay’s and just enjoying some downtime- because really who wants to spend what will probably be one of the last, if not last sunny fall Saturdays marking 80 hideously written first year papers which each go in excess of 8 pages? There’s so much I want to write about like my new hockey league, the philosophical musings of my almost 3-year old niece, my siblings, the new twist my depression has taken, the daily fear I have picked up, the search for an acceptable University to apply for my Ph.D studies which would begin this upcoming September, and my current thesis advisor’s struggle with breast cancer. Yet, all that comes trickling out are half-started posts here and there saved to my hard-drive or softly formed, malleable ideas struggling to take on enough shape in my head to be transposed to the computer.

So, instead I sit and I dream and I watch the wind blowing the leaves through the back yard at my parent’s house while basking in the sun streaming through my window. I wish every day could fill me with this kind of contentment and then I remember that tomorrow afternoon I have to get in my car and drive an hour and a half back to my real life of thick books and due dates, of clambering students and unmarked papers. But for now I think I’ll just enjoy what I have right this minute and deal with the consequences later.

Lotto Dreams

This past Wednesday’s Lotto 6/49 drawing was advertised as a roughly $40 million jackpot. Not bad, eh? When all was said and done the prize came out to around $54 million. It was with some trepidation that I learned that only one ticket, purchased in Alberta, drew the winning numbers. It’s not that I grudge the winner their money, but something about one individual winning that much money all at once brings on certain feelings of uneasiness and a lot of questions about what sort of person the winner is. Not to mention a small amount of a sense of loss, since my $2 ticket isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.

I can count the number of lottery tickets I’ve bought in my lifetime on one hand. Yet earlier in the week Mr. Intellectual and I fell for the lotto-fever and it landed us in a convenience store buying snacks and lottery tickets before going to see a movie together. It’s amazing what the possibility of winning that much money can do to a person’s imagination and psyche. Even though the rational side of my brain said that I wouldn’t win anything, the emotional side allowed me to run away in the dream of it all and find a small slice of happiness that I haven’t felt in a long time. It was a small stream of light that pierced through the dark feelings clouding my brain.

I was definitely not the only one buying into the lottery-fever that accompanies the heady dreams that only $40 million can fuel. I spent some quiet time pondering just what I would do with that kind of money, and I had to smile. It’s nice to dream and it’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself that luxury. Depression doesn’t exactly foster an environment in my head that allows for wild hopes and quiet dreams. Even though I knew I wouldn’t win, it was refreshing to imagine what I would do with the financial freedom it would bring me. It also brought on a sense of emptiness that one of my dreams would never be fulfilled, $40 million or not.

One of my wild dreams was to take a month off and travel through Italy with Mr. I to visit all of the places and art pieces I had studied about in art history classes, classics courses and history classes in undergrad. Since he spent a month and half studying in Rome it would have been ideal, not to mention the fact that his near-photographic memory makes him a wonderful source of history and knowledge that I’ve never been able to use while traveling. We never did go on vacation anywhere or travel together beyond day trips, and its something I regret. However, neither one of us had the money since we were poor students and love alone can’t buy plane tickets. It’s too late now to do that, even as friends since his new girlfriend would never go for it, let alone be comfortable with the idea of us traveling together anywhere.

This morning I read in the paper that 17 employees of a little oil and gas company out of a small town in Alberta held the winning ticket. Each individual will be taking home roughly $3 million each. Learning that the pot was being split amongst 17 hard working, blue-collar individuals made me smile. I was happy for them, they’ve known hardship and adversity I’m sure and they and their families deserve this. I’m just thankful that for an afternoon I tasted happiness and know it’s possible to hope again sometime in the future, even if I can’t right now. Besides, not all of my fantasies are out of reach- one day I will be able to buy my own car, even if it’s not a brand new Chrysler 300.

Humour

A while back Mr. Intellectual told me about this quirky little comic, called White Ninja that he found while surfing the internet for Ninja stuff. Why? I'm not 100% sure, but I think it had something to do with the short film, "A Ninja Pays Half My Rent". Check out the archive for a good laugh. The ninja short is also funny too if you haven't already seen it. White Ninja releases new comics on a fairly regular basis which is one of my little indulgences. It reminds me of this comic which used to be featured in our student news paper, but sadly its creator graduated in my third year and it was discontinued. I still miss that comic and ever since it has been gone I haven't picked up the student newspaper nearly as often as I did back then.

I'm still breathing and here. Which is good- for now.