Failing to find my Strength

Today I went to one of the yoga classes at the University athletics center with a friend/colleague. I’ve been having trouble with my carpal tunnel and I know it was very helpful with that back when I did the study. I’ve also been feeling very out of sorts and unbalanced in a way I can’t quite verbalize. I was hoping this class would help both.

This class was billed as a “Yoga Stretch” class, however after things got underway it was not the relaxed stretching class we both expected. It was a power yoga class focusing more on a strength training and muscle building approach and not a peaceful, relaxed session. I left in more pain than I went in with, both physically and mentally. This was not what I expected at all.

During the warm up part where we were doing some focused breathing and eyes-closed visualization we were asked to picture something in our minds. We were supposed to find our strength, something positive about ourselves, and focus on that one thing. I couldn’t find anything. I searched in vain and nothing positive was coming to mind. There is nothing physically about my body that I’m happy about at the moment. I woke up this morning to the realization that I have allowed myself to get to an uncomfortable weight and shape, something I had promised I wouldn’t do again after I broke up with Mr. Intellectual. Academically and intellectually I’m feeling like a horrible failure and completely unfit to be here. All I am finding at the moment is a deep, abiding shame and self-loathing.

Instead of finding peace and balance for an hour I left feeling very sore and was trying desperately to hold it together. Crying during guided meditation is not a good thing, especially in front of a friend and a room full of 50 strangers. I never expected to feel so empty from something I loved so much previously.

Motivation & Failure

Shortly after I gave Quiet Confidence the link to this website he spent a lot of time reading through the past couple years of my life chronicled here. He said that it was difficult to read at times because he hates reading stories where the good guy doesn’t triumph. He had a completely different perspective on my blog than I do since he read it in huge sections where as I parceled it out in measured segments according to my days. Where as I saw the blog as more of an up and down rollercoaster of my depression, he saw it as the up and downs of my dating life and the continuous disappointments I suffered. Neither perspective is wrong, it just depends on what lens you filter the material through.

This past year has been an entirely different kind of struggle for me. I’ve been struggling with my degree and what it means to me, if I even want to be here, and feelings of failure. Yesterday I was looking at my school ring, absent-mindedly playing with it while I was thinking of other things. As I read the inscription on the inside band it struck me that my Bachelors Degree feels like the only degree where I really tried. I put my heart and soul into those 4 years. I really tried during that degree. I have yet to put that much effort, thought and time into my Ph.D. More importantly I haven’t invested my heart into this degree like I did with my undergrad. I was so emotionally invested in that degree and wanting to be on campus, regardless of how difficult it was at that time.

It may just be that I have academic burn out. That would come as no great shock since I’ve been in University for the past 8 years. Most people I know get burn out by their third or fourth year in school. It can be quite the meat grinder in academia. I can’t find the necessary desire and motivation to complete assignments and move on to the next phase of my degree. Part of me already feels like I’ve fucked up this degree from day one, that much of the past two and half years have been a huge failure. I can’t seem to move on from those feelings of failure and disappointment in my performance, which has only exacerbated the situation. This is not how I wanted my Ph.D to play out.

Of Lies and Liars

For five years I worked a Government job. One of the main functions of my job was to determine when “clients” were lying and to figure out if that was problematic enough for us to take action or just let it go. It didn’t take long before I figured out that everyone was lying to me about something or other and I just had to figure out if the particular lie in question was important. It was also around this time that I discovered Mr. Intellectual’s propensity for telling little white lies constantly. It was something I had always noticed and was confused about, but it began to gnaw at me as I became more adept at spotting these obfuscations and catching him in his tall tales.

Over the years as these little white lies piled up I became more and more frustrated and angry at the discovery of each one, particularly because they were so unnecessary. When I bluntly asked him at one point why he felt it was necessary to embellish so much and so often he had an intriguing reply and an answer that gave me some insight into his personality. He said that he wanted to make his life seem more interesting and by extension himself more interesting. That didn’t excuse his behaviour in my eyes. I just wanted him to be honest with me. I didn’t care if he led a normal, ordinary life or his anecdotes were nothing exceptional. As the job started to wear me down more each day I craved honesty from those around me, particularly the man who was supposed to be my biggest emotional support.

The job was starting to change me, and the way I saw people. With each passing day I was becoming more disillusioned with people and I became quite disgusted with humanity. As each lie was uncovered at work I was becoming increasingly hostile towards the white lies I had to face after work. The cumulative toll that these white lies took on me was one of the factors that precipitated the end of our 6-year relationship. It was one of the big things I was thankful to leave behind me. I hated always second guessing the things I was being told and constantly keeping a mental puzzle in play to see if what was said was the truth, white lies or outright falsehoods. It really hurt that he didn’t think enough of me to tell me the truth.

This was all brought home to me again recently through this blog. An anonymous reader who was actually looking for a poem by Catullus uncovered this particular lie of Mr. Intellectuals. It was a brief, sharp and painful reminder of his untruthful nature. I am thankful that this person left the comment and alerted me to the deception. Many years ago Mr. Intellectual had written me a poem and I was under the impression up until now that it was one of his own original works. It was beautiful and I always treasured that poem. I found out that it is basically a word for word copy of the poem “Happiness” by the Roman poet Gaius Valerius Catullus, 84 BC - 54 BC. Now I’m just thoroughly disgusted by his behaviour and wonder if other poems he wrote me were also deliberate plagiarisms. The sad thing is that if he had just told me it was a work by Catullus and it made him think of me I would have loved it just as much. There was no need to pass it off as his own work since I already thought he was a good writer.

While his brazen behaviour took my breath away it has solidified my disinterest in his life. I no longer care what he’s doing and how he is, or how he is faring with the difficulties in his life. I find him to be ridiculously pompous and disingenuous and do not want those kinds of people in my life. He doesn’t deserve any more of my time or headspace. What this has also done for me is make me even more grateful for the man I’m with right now. From the start Quiet Confidence and I have had an open and honest relationship. I have never had that nagging feeling that what was being said wasn’t quite what it seems. QC respects me enough to tell me the truth, even if it’s not easy, and for that reason alone I love him.

Marking

As a Teaching Assistant at the University one of my responsibilities is the marking of assignments, essays, tutorial participation, midterms and final exams. I have to say that this is one of the least favourite parts of the job for me. I hate judging someone else's work or performance. There is something very distasteful to me in making that call and sticking with my grade. I think sometimes that I agonize over these students grades for more time than they take to study for the exam or to write their term papers. I just want to be fair and impartial to all my students and ensure that they have earned the grade I give them, regardless of whether it's an A or an F.

As an undergraduate I was never the greatest at taking tests and my exams were always somewhat mediocre. I understand that even the brightest student might have difficulties with writing a decent history exam. It's not an easy thing to remember specific dates, names, and places and how they all fit together to make something meaningful. It has only been in the last couple of years of my Doctoral degree that I'm getting even remotely comfortable with the names and dates of history in relation to an event, and that's only when you're talking to me about Canadian history. Give me any other country and I'm as helpless as a frosh. This is largely because I'm TAing the same survey course on Canadian history for the second year in a row, and I've spent the better part of the past 4 years deeply immersed in Canadian history for my thesis work.

So while I'm bogged down with midterms and papers right now I'm dreaming of the day when I'll have a bevy of graduate students to do the marking for me. I think that's one of the best perks of getting a full Doctorate- not having to mark obscene piles of undergraduate work.

Holiday Decorations

A couple of years ago I taught myself how to Tat. After some false starts and a lot of time in between I've taken it up again.

Snowflake, Work in Progress

Over the last few days I've begun to make a couple of snowflakes as Christmas decorations. I had originally planned to offer up a set as a prize for completing NaBloPoMo this year.

Snowflakes, completed

I promptly dropped the ball on the NaBlo challenge, and also stalled out on getting back to Eden in regards to this prize. I'm going to try to get it in at the last minute regardless. My apologies on the bad lighting. These were taken at my desk in the late evening with no natural sunlight. The snowflakes are actually made out of a subtle off-white shade of cotton thread, and don't look this dingy in person.

Nablopo....oh crap

As I was drifting off to sleep on Friday night I realized I hadn't posted anything that day. I didn't even make it a week before I blew the NaBloPoMo challenge.

I could have chosen to get out of bed to throw up a post, however I thought it would be a bit odd considering that I was at Quiet Confidence's house. I wasn't sure how he'd react to me getting out of bed around midnight to fire up the computer for a blog post. He's been very supportive and accepting of the whole "blog" concept once I let the cat out of the bag. He wasn't all that surprised given the fact that he knew I kept a paper journal and I'm pretty "plugged in" (his words not mine). We still haven't discussed boundaries on what he's comfortable with me posting about our relationship. I'm kind of waiting until he's finished reading through the past couple years worth of posts before delving into that discussion.

I don't consider my lapse on the Nablo challenge to be a failure really. I'm trying not to use that word in an effort to stop seeing my stumbles as failures. I need to really curb the negative self-talk and focus on what is working in my life. I'm going to see how many posts I can create with the time left in the challenge. This was always meant as a challenge to undertake in an effort to help me get over my academic writer's block. Hopefully by the end of the month I'll have succeeded in that.

Blokus!

This weekend Quiet Confidence and I were looking for a board game to play. It's been forever since either one of us had played one and it was perfect weather for staying inside- cold, rainy and plenty of fog. We ended up having to go out to pick up a game since there wasn't anything either of us were digging in his limited supply.

After much debate and browsing of the games at a local toy store we finally settled on Blokus, the duo edition. It appealed to both of us by combining elements of tetris and strategy, as well as looking pretty simple to pick up right away. Plus it looked somewhat addictive and potentially something we could play over and over without getting bored. It ended up being a huge hit and actually hilarious to play. The nice part about the duo edition is that it's compact, easy to travel with and only 2 player, which makes for a faster game than the multi-player edition.

The best part about the whole game was after we started cursing "Blokus!" when our respective opponent made a particularly good play. That alone made this purchase completely worth every penny.

I did a quick search today and found out you can play Blokus online through their website. Not only that but apparently the game has been very well reviewed and quite popular. I think we lucked out in our choice and can't wait for the rematch. He ended up winning our best out of 5 series by 1 game. It was a close game which made it all the more entertaining.

Perfection

I'm with someone who is so compatible with me that it seems too good to be true. Why do I keep feeling like something bad is going to happen, or I'll wake up only to discover that it was all a dream. Is there such a thing as perfection in a relationship?

Public vs. Private

I’ve spent a lot of time in the last few years feeling like my life is out of control. Ever since one asshole came into my life and ripped apart my sense of security and my ability to trust myself I’ve been largely unable to make a decision and stick with it. Normal, everyday things create unexpectedly negative reactions within me. In order to get a brief sense of security back I pack up and move, which is why I’ve moved 3 times in the past 12 months. When I feel threatened I run and hide.

Several weeks ago my boyfriend had flowers delivered to my house. My first reaction was not one of surprise and delight - it was a sickening fear that he’d found me. And anger. I think I slightly frightened the poor delivery guy with my hostile reaction and questions of who they were from. I wanted to know who sent them before I’d accept. As soon as I closed the door and read the card I knew my reaction was wrong and I was upset that I couldn’t experience the normal joy of receiving unexpected gifts without the panic and fear that it was starting all over again.

Finding out that Mr. Intellectual has been to my website has raised that same gut wrenching reaction. It’s not that I begrudge him the curiosity, or that I don’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. I largely feel indifferent towards him and his life. It’s the feelings I have of it being unfair. That yet again I’m an unwilling participant in something I can’t change. It’s the feelings of being utterly powerless and unable to stand up for myself. That I’ve been rendered completely helpless. These are feelings I struggle with on an almost daily basis since the stalking began and again when the post-traumatic stress emerged. This overwhelming sense of vulnerability is a new facet of my personality that I dislike and causes me a lot of distress.

Jaclyn, a kind reader, has suggested that maybe I’d feel more comfortable taking this blog private and requiring people to ask for access in order to read. While this is tempting, it kind of violates the spirit of this blog in a sense. This was supposed to be a safe space for me to work through things that I couldn’t voice anywhere else. To take it private means that it is no longer that safe place and it also means that I’m limiting access. It also feels like I’m running and hiding again. Like I’m giving up a small sliver of the control I feel I have on my life. It’s the feeling that I’m giving him more power and influence over my life than he deserves or should have. Very much the way I feel towards the man who stalked me, and forever changed my life. A lot of the time I do things because of my experience, thereby allowing the stalker to continue to exert a power and influence over me that is wholly undeserved.

I spend a lot of time struggling with these feelings and the resulting anger. I’m trying to take baby steps to stop this cycle of behaviour, which is why Ph.Depressed will continue to be publicly accessible. I will try very hard not to let the fear of unwanted readership dictate what I choose to put here.

"I cannot control how you act. I can only control how I react."

- Jane Canuck

Rapidly Changing Seasons

Last Wednesday saw our first snowstorm of the year. It was quite a mess because there were still so many leaves on the trees and the snow was so heavy. Lots of downed limbs, power outages and general unpleasantness on the streets. Not to mention sub-zero temperatures and black ice.

This Wednesday the temperatures climbed to 20*C and I wore capri's, sandals and a t-shirt to campus. I also enjoyed a beer out on the patio of the grad club in the late afternoon with some colleagues. It was truly a stolen moment from Summer and felt more like the return of Spring than the end of Fall. If only this coming Winter could pass us by that easily. Sadly, I know that's too much to hope for in this city.

1288 Days, 298 Posts later

A little over 3 years ago I started a blog. I’m not really sure what it was about the medium that appealed to me, but at the time I was reeling from a couple of big life changes. I was struggling to come to terms with my depression, graduate school and being thrust back into the single life after 6 years of being safely cocooned in a relationship. I have always found that writing has helped me sort out my more complex emotions and crystallize in my mind the problems I was having. While I have friends and acquaintances, I don’t have many people I trust or feel comfortable enough opening up to and sharing the deepest recesses of myself with.

In the past three years, I’ve completed a Masters degree despite some serious difficulties, entered a Ph.D program and floundered, was stalked, developed post traumatic stress, moved 5 times, worked through my 6-year relationship with Mr. Intellectual, dated or had pseudo-relationships with more men than I can remember names for, saw another niece and nephew enter the world, experienced a complete break with reality, went on and off anti-depressants and anxiety medication a handful of times, and met a man who is one of the most honest, emotionally mature and unconditionally loving individuals that I have ever met.

In the past year I’ve struggled with this space and where I’m taking it. I’ve spent a lot of time being disengaged from life and my personal pursuits outside of school and the daily grind of life. I spent several months where I stopped doing just about everything I enjoyed, from reading fiction to going outside or interacting with friends. Some days are easier than others to pick up that book or go out for coffee with a friend. I find myself easily distracted, agitated and restless when I do try to concentrate on my schoolwork or my hobbies- writing in particular.

One of the biggest obstacles I have with this space is that I know that Mr. Intellectual finally found me online. My statcounter alerted me to this fact sometime around my birthday of this year. It disturbs me somewhat to know that he may or may not be reading here. Like why should he give a shit now? On some level it feels like being stalked all over again since it’s an unwanted, secretive observer of my life and he hasn’t told me about it or reached out to me in any way. It also makes me slightly more cautious in what I choose to write about, and I hate that feeling. I hate feeling helpless and that is all I have felt since the day I called 9-1-1 fearing for my life because of the stalkers behaviour at my door. I don’t think it's particularly fair that he can turn his back on my friendship, yet get a front seat into my inner struggles. I’m trying very hard not to let it censor me.

The other big hurdle to my writing here is the fact that my new boyfriend doesn’t know about my blog. I’ve been debating about whether or not to tell him. We have a policy of absolute honesty, which has worked very well for us, and it feels kind of like a breach of his trust not to let him know. I’m scared about how he’ll respond to some of my writing- not that he’ll reject me, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings in some way or cause him to worry unnecessarily about me. Is it possible to share too much with someone? We’ll soon find out because I think it’s finally time to let him in on my last big secret.

Writer's Block, already

This is day 3 of NaBloPoMo and I officially have writers block. It's a tad early to be this hung up on what to write, but given my problems with my academic writing this shouldn't be a huge surprise. I was hoping to make it a full week or more before I really started to feel like I had nothing to say. This certainly bodes ill for the remainder of the exercise.

It's all about baby steps though. Even if it means writing a junk post like this, I'm still putting one foot in front of the other (metaphorically) and trying to overcome my overall writers block in the hopes of improving my academic performance.

Library Graffiti

Library Graffiti, Sept. 25, 2008

I was in the University library a while back collecting a few books for a project I'm supposed to be working on. While heading up the stairwell I spotted this on one of the landings. It's not drawn on, but looked to be more of a silkscreen template. It was fairly innocuous, about the size of my hand, and easily missed if you were in a hurry.

NaBloPoMo

I've decided to participate in NaBloPoMo this month. I thought about it for a while before I signed up since I haven't written anything here since July. Which, coincidentally, is around the same time I stopped writing academically and almost completely stopped writing in my paper journal. Writing has become so difficult for me that I've completely turned my back on it, which as you can imagine is a serious problem in a graduate program that involves multiple 30+ page papers and a 350 page thesis as a requirement for graduation. I hoping that by completing 30 days straight of blogging that I will be able to return to my academic work. If I can't write, I can't be here which means finding an alternate career path and giving up on my Ph.d.

A Little Touch of Luxury

One of my very best friends lives in England. We chat several times a week over msn and share the occasional joke through text message. We’ve now known each other for about 10 years and have shared the ups and downs of life, including all the details of rotten relationships and anything else that may come up in conversation. I could easily make the argument that the Weasle knows more about me than anyone else I know. He has some family in Canada and comes out every few years to visit and have a vacation.

The Weasle was planning his vacation for this summer a couple of months ago and asked me if there was anything I’d like from the UK that I can’t get here. Last summer while he was visiting he brought me a lovely Manchester United jersey. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted off the top of my head and the conversation drifted off into other realms. I was having difficulties with Candidate #2 at the time and we were discussing the best way for me to break it off without causing unnecessary drama for myself. Weasle brought it up again several weeks later. It was late at night and we were both getting slightly ridiculous making fun of each other (or as he say’s – taking the piss), and having a good time in general. I don’t know why this came out, but I was feeling bold and I really wanted something extraordinary.

Several years ago I read about Agent Provocateur in some magazine. I love beautiful things and my tastes tend towards the expensive. As one of my uncles would say, I have “champagne tastes on a beer budget.” I love taking a peek at their website and all the fabulous lingerie that I can never afford. Much like a pair of Louboutin shoes or a Valentino dress, AP lingerie was one of those things that I enjoy admiring, but never really believed would ever be in the budget. The only Agent Provocateur boutique in Canada just so happens to be in Vancouver, at the opposite end of the country from where I am, further removing it from my realm. I mentioned this to Weasle and he immediately jumped on their UK site and we had a good laugh picking out the more daring ensembles and comparing our tastes in lingerie. By the end of the night we had both settled on the same set as being the best and most appropriate for me. I must say Weasle does have impeccable tastes in clothing and jewellery!

So this year I received an amazing pair of panties and matching bra from the Weasle. It became a great joke between us, but that’s just the relationship we have. I finally received my gift this week and I couldn’t be more pleased. I love how AP names each of their sets with women’s names and weaves a story with their different lines. Mine just so happens to be called “Fanny” which tickled me pink since it reminds me of the notorious Fanny Hill by John Cleland. I adore my new lingerie and have big plans for it in the future, since it really is too good and too pretty to wear for everyday.

It really is a little touch of luxury to slip on a $100 thong and know you are worth every penny of it. The Weasle has become instrumental in reminding me of my value and that I am more than the crappy relationships and the men I thought I deserved. He also knows that I deprive myself so that I can afford to stay in school, so this is his way of treating me for all my hard work. This is why I love him like one of my brothers and value him so much. Sometimes it takes the words of someone else to remind you that you are special and you should be good to yourself.

An Anniversary of a Sort

Ten years ago this month I sat waiting in a park in the dusky twilight, on a bench beside a baseball diamond. I was waiting for Mr. Intellectual to come home from a visit to his Nana’s. This was the night we started dating. The night after we had shared our first kiss. I waited in that park for a couple of hours since I didn’t know when he would be home. A less patient girl would have given up and gone out with her friends instead, but I wanted him. In hindsight that night was to be the first of many where I would wait patiently for him.

Ten years later we’re no longer even speaking to each other. We’ve both sort of moved on. I know he went looking for this blog around the time of my birthday last month and found it. I still keep in touch with his cousin so I know what he is or isn’t up to and that he’s still with the girl he started dating after we broke up. I am finally making peace with the relationship, the issues it created, and the impact it had on my life.

After we broke up 4 years ago, I had planned on mailing him a gift on our 10-year anniversary with a thank-you card. The gift was going to be a leather-bound, Arden’s Playgoers edition of Hamlet. It was a gift I had been trying to source off an on while we were together since that was his favourite Shakespearian play and he absolutely loves beautiful things- books in particular. He had also given me the leather-bound Arden’s Romeo and Juliet years before for Christmas one year, so it was a fitting gift I thought. The card was to say something about the gratitude I have for the 6 years we spent together and the good times we shared. How he was an important part of my life and one of my best friends and for that I will always love him as a friend and think fondly of him. In the end I decided to just leave him be. He made it abundantly clear two years ago that he didn’t want to have anything more to do with me, so I respected that. As much as I would like to reach out to him, given how difficult things are for him at the moment, I know his pride would never allow him to accept my friendship right now. Instead I will leave the past in the past and continue moving forward.

I think...

If you asked me tomorrow, I would say yes.

A Ghost of a Memory

Last night I returned to the University town after a very restful month at my parents place on the Farm. While unpacking and listening to music I suddenly remember something from the distant past. I had completely forgotten the night before I left home for University for the first time. It was a bittersweet parting between Mr. Intellectual and I. I don’t really remember what we did that evening, but sometime before midnight saw us dancing slowly to some of our favourite songs, holding each other closely. I can’t remember how long we stayed like that, but it was probably for a few hours. Slowly spinning around room, talking softly with my head resting on his shoulder and nestled up close to his neck. Later he dropped me off at my parent’s house in the early morning hours. I remember being excited for the next morning and all the new things that moving out and starting University would bring. My excitement was tempered with sadness at leaving Mr. Intellectual, who chose to stay at home and begin school at the Hometown University. He was very melancholy at our final parting. Soft kisses and gentle words were shared before he drove away that night.

Now, almost eight years later I think about that night as if it was from another era, and in a sense it was in a different intellectual and emotional era in my life. I’ve been in post-secondary school for 8 years now, earned 2 degrees and experienced more in the past 4 years apart from him than I did in the previous 6 years with him. But I wonder about the feelings I had while with him. I’ve been emotionally stunted in the love department since we parted ways 4 years ago. I wonder if I can be that emotionally open and available to anyone again. So far I have failed miserably and not just because I’ve picked men who were far from desirable partners. Thinking about that last night together I miss the simple sweetness of loving someone in that way- the absolute trust, adoration, and fearlessness of loving without holding back. Have I seen too much and been through too much trauma with men to turn back the clock in my heart to that time?

Alternative Therapy?

Vitia nostra regionum mutatione non fugimus.

- We do not flee our errors by a change of locations. (Anonymous)

I've kind of reached the end of my rope with how I'm feeling and doing. I've struggled for the past couple of years with no meaningful change or relief. I had always hoped that when I moved from my Master's to my Ph.D I could leave behind some of the old issues and start fresh in a new city and a new University. These problems have a way creeping back in eventually though. You may move locations and change jobs or projects, but you bring yourself with you.

I've been medicated off and on for almost 5 years now. The last two years have seen me on medication almost steadily. While it has helped me tremendously at times, I have found other alternative therapies to be as equally effective, if not more so, at times. The yoga study I did last year was really great and I regret not continuing on with yoga after it was over. Talk therapy was perfunctory and incredibly counter productive when I gave it a try 5 years ago. Arguably the doctor I have now engages in a type of talk therapy in addition to dispensing medication and charting my progress. She's a lot better than the first guy I tried, but it's still not making an appreciable difference in my life. There are some things I know I need to figure out on my own and spend time sorting through them in my head.

I'm not the type of person to enjoy talking to a therapist, or some one else necessarily, to help me sort out those things. Verbal diarrhea has never been a problem for me, nor do I feel better after "unburdening" myself on anyone. I keep it all closed up inside and the only time I discuss the mental issues is in my journal or here. I'm an independent learner, and a very closed person, so talk therapy is not helpful for me. I'd say it leaves me worse off then before I started because I'm easily frustrated by seeing the person struggle to help me if they're not properly qualified. I also find empty platitudes annoying and unnecessary. I don't need someone to pat my hand and tell me everything will be better tomorrow.

I ran across an article in Discovery about the use of psychedelic drugs in the treatment of mental disorders after reading Mind Hacks. While I don't condone recreational drug use, nor would I ever advocate using them, I think this is an intensely personal choice. I just want to feel like I used to. I just want to be the person I know I am, free from the Post Traumatic Stress and the depression. I want to feel again. I want to not only remember what love feels like, I want to feel love again. Everything I'm doing right now is not allowing me to overcome the problem or even find a break through and insight on how to proceed. This is not something I'm taking lightly or jumping into blindly. It is something I'm considering very seriously, not as a recreational "high" but as a controlled and deliberate choice.

There is only one person in the world I would trust to do this with- my brother, the World Traveller. While the article discusses the use of MDMA for post traumatic stress I would never consider using it. I'm leaning more towards psilocybin's (magic mushrooms) as a safer option. WT has experience with them and he knows I've never done shrooms before. He also is an incredibly safety oriented person and understands the purpose behind why I want to try them. We discussed it a bit last night, however I still have a few more things to discuss with him about it before I agree to the experience. It also needs to be in a highly controlled environment because a bad trip would probably leave me in a far worse mental state than I am in right now. I know this is not a cure, but merely a tool to help me reach the next step in over coming the PTSD. The depression will probably always be with me, but the PTSD is seriously affecting my daily life and ability to function in society. I know how to cope with the depression, I do not now how to cope with depression and PTSD.

At a Standstill

Stasis n.- a state in which there is neither motion nor development, often resulting from opposing forces balancing each other.


I am in almost complete stasis right now. I am unable to move forward, unable to complete projects, and unable to untangle my messy emotional state.

A Series of Highs & Lows

High:

• Driving a Backhoe for the first time on the farm

Low:

• Discovering Mr. Intellectual has visited this site for the first time

High:

• Spending hours talking to a certain some one, losing track of time and not minding

Low:

• Feeling like a huge failure because that paper still isn't done

High:

• Going for a short run and not being out of breath, despite not having exercised in quite some time
  

Low:

• Not knowing where you stand with someone

High:

• Getting a big bear hug from that crazy brother of yours, just when you needed it most

Low:

• Realizing you have to go back to the University town in a couple of days and face the music
  

A Gift to Myself

Somewhere between this post and today I had a wee little mental breakdown. The weight of school, an incomplete relationship and the fear of failure sent me off the deep end, free-falling into an abyss of mental instability. Many tears later and lots of sleep I’m slowly waking up. I ran away to my parent’s house two weeks ago and I’m trying to find a healthy balance for my life yet again. Being in the middle of my family and seeing my little nieces and nephews really helps to ground me and show me what is important in life. It doesn’t hurt that it is also spring on the farm, which is an incredibly beautiful time of year.

This past weekend I celebrated my 27th birthday. I have heard from several people that being 27 was one of the hardest years of their life for various reasons. I’m not sure if it’s the realization that you’re almost thirty and coming to terms with the end of your supposedly ‘carefree’ 20s, or it’s the feeling that you should be closer to assembling something of an adult career and life path. The thought of having a more difficult year than the past three years combined has steeled me to make some changes in the hopes of preventing a terrible 27th year. I’m trying to make 27 the best year I possibly can under the circumstances.

As a gift to myself for my birthday I broke up with Candidate #2. I knew it was something I should have had the guts to do months ago, but hindsight isn’t always the most helpful. As a semi-professional historian I spend inordinate amounts of time analyzing the past and for once I’d like to think about the future. So, instead of agonizing over the hurt it has caused or replaying over in my head what I should have done differently I am just leaving it alone and not looking back. I’ve severed almost all contact with Candidate #2 and once I return back to the University town and drop off his key I won’t have any more to do with him. It’s not beneficial for either one of us and the last thing I need right now is to become a target for his anger and sadness over yet another failed relationship.

The next couple of weeks I’m going to try to sort out all of my incomplete assignments and put my education back in order. If I have any chance of salvaging this degree I need to make the sacrifices I know are necessary even if they are difficult.

The Guessing Game

I’m breaking down. I can feel myself slowly fraying as each additional pressure is squeezed down inside me and I try to prioritize with little success. I wake up everyday questioning what I’m doing with my life. Should I really be in graduate school? Is a Ph.D really what I want from life? Am I only still here because I’ve become institutionalized and I can’t fathom a life outside the walls of academia? I wonder what else I would do as a career and come up empty handed and even more frustrated. This is the only way I can see of being independent.

Dangers of the Workplace

I'm in the throes of writing a paper for my course on advertising and consumption. For most of the time it's an uphill struggle but I have experienced brief moments of reprieve, where the words flow easily and writing feels like I've found my voice again. These moments are for a few sentences at a time or maybe a paragraph if I'm particularly fortunate.

This morning I rolled over to the unpleasant discovery that at some point in the night a small, purple post-it note had become attached to my belly. I woke up slightly confused and disoriented to the knowledge that this little piece of paper had burrowed its way under my t-shirt and affixed itself beside my bellybutton for the duration of the night. I'm still puzzled how it made its way upstairs and into bed with me. Perhaps it came from the book I was reading before I fell asleep, or more likely it fell off an article as I straightened up before I called it a night. Either way, its been one of the more unusual consequences of academia that I've experienced- right up there with the time I pulled my shoulder picking up a book off the floor.

Where I'm At

Lost. I feel lost. Somewhere in the past 6 months I’ve allowed myself to be swallowed whole into a relationship that is neither truly beneficial for me nor truly destructive. Much like the way I feel right now it is just sort of there. He’s a decent sort of man who will make some woman very happy in the future. He will love her, care for her and they will be happy with the domestic routine. In the end, he is just not for me. There is no real connection of the mind and I can feel myself slowly eroding emotionally from this.

He needs some one less opinionated, less dominant, less cerebral and consumed with spending time inside her head. He often gets frustrated with my over-intellectualizing and the amount of time I spent inside my head turning things over and gently prodding them for their larger meaning and structure. He would argue the opposite and that we’re great together, but I know I’m not being true to myself. I am not who I am with him and alter my personality to fit more smoothly into his life. I suppress things, alter moods and put aside interests to create a more harmonious relationship. All of which I know are wrong, but I can’t help it.

The problem lies in the fact that he’s a great friend and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He’s a great guy for hanging out on a patio in the summer sun, drinking beers and sharing casual conversation. But as my brother, the World Traveller, has said he just isn’t cultured enough for my tastes and long-term happiness. There’s nothing wrong with him, he’s just not my type. I also know that when we break up we cannot be friends- he won’t accept that. This relationship is such that he wants all or nothing, and I can’t give him what he desires. With both our birthday’s coming up in the next month I really do need to do something about this. I know I’m not responsible for how he reacts, but I hate hurting other people’s feelings, particularly when it comes to relationship hurts. The worst part about this is that there really isn't an overwhelmingly bad thing about the relationship that makes breaking it off easier.

The Six Word Memoir

I recently was introduced to the concept of a six word memoir through an article in the Toronto Star. They had run their own six word memoir contest to highlight the new book, Not Quite What I Was Planning: 6 Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure. The concept is to write your own memoir in only 6 words. It's a fun little exercise to think through and I've found myself doing it at odd times during the last week or so- or at least thinking about the book. These little memoirs can be so provocative and addictive. The Amazon preview has a few really intriguing examples from the book:

"After Harvard, had baby with crackhead." - Robin Templeton

"Watching quietly from every doorframe." - Nicole Resseguie

"Painful nerd kid, happy nerd adult." - Linda Williamson

"The Psychic said I'd be richer." - Elizabeth Bernstein

It fits in with my interest in PostSecret and catching little glimpses of other peoples private lives that you may or may not be privy to. Much like PostSecret, these 6 word memoirs are equally eclectic. I'm not really sure what my 6 word memoir would be exactly, but here are a few I did think of:

I think about it every day.

26, Life has yet to happen.

Depressed and withdraw from my life.

Some day I will find myself.

Fell in love once, still waiting.

What would your 6 word memoir say?

Something Lost, Something Gained?

I wish I could say that I stopped writing because something extraordinarily good happened in my life and the depression became a non-issue, but that’s not the case. At first I lost confidence in my ability to write academically and eventually it bled into my ability to write from the heart. I couldn’t even write for myself, not here or in my paper journal. The depression waxed and waned over the last few months, neither crippling me nor abating enough for me to truly enjoy life. It has been one long and interminable winter that cannot be over soon enough. I don’t know if I’ve gained anything over these last few months of silence, but I need to believe that there has been some good. I just don’t see it right now.

I Can't Believe I Missed This?!

I just found out this evening that the creator's of Futurama actually released a movie this week (see above). It's a straight to DVD movie, however this is something I've heard rumours of off and on for quite some time but never believed it would really happen.

I have no idea who I missed hearing about this until after the movie was released. Mind you I'm only 3 days late since it was released on November 27th, but still! I'm a huge Futurama fan and I've been hoping against hope that they'd bring back the show or make good on their promises for a movie.

The Day is Over

I'm mentally exhausted, but the day wasn't as horrible as I had envisioned it would be. Actually, I consider myself to be quite fortunate in that I have a really great group of students. I have some seriously awesome kids and it was nice to have a little one on one time with them to figure out some things and just get to know them as people and not just as my students. It was interesting how many of them have given me unsolicited compliments or encouragement on how I've been running my tutorials. Apparently my laid back style is working, and I am getting through to more of them than I first thought.

It's days like these that make me believe in what I'm doing.

The Busiest Day of the Year

Tomorrow will be one of the most hectic days of my semester thus far. I have an 11:30am French exam and then from 12:00pm until 4:00pm I have back to back meetings with students on the half hour. This is all to go over their papers for next term. The worst part about it is I don't even have any cash on me to grab a pick me up coffee at the Tim Horton's during my afternoon slump. I'm going to try to get through it sans caffeine but I have my doubts.

Favourite Quote of the Day

My Mother recently gave me a book entitled, "Writing Your Dissertation in Fifteen Minutes a Day" by Joan Bolker. It's a great little book for any person doing graduate work in any discipline.

I was reading it this afternoon while I was waiting for a couple of students to drop in to discuss their papers and came across one of the best quotes from someone named Don Graves:

"You have to be willing to be a professional nudist if you're going to write."

It was on a section in relation to sharing your writing, particularly early drafts and unfinished work with others to receive constructive criticism and support. I think this can be true of any writing though because if you write anything that someone else is going to read you are laying yourself bare in a sense. It goes hand in hand with Fussy.com's "Writing Well is the Best Revenge" t-shirts. Graves' quote made me smile on a pretty bleak day when I was beginning to hit the wall and feel completely exhausted.

Memories

My mother has been going through all sorts of old family photos in the last couple of days for a huge family tree project being co-ordinated by a few of my great-aunts. She's been scanning some of them and emailing me periodically with her finds. I had forgotten about some of them, but a lot of them have some pretty happy memories for me. It makes me intensely home sick unfortunately and I miss my brothers something fierce, especially after she sent some pictures of us joking around and being silly as kids.

The Grinch?

I'm trying so hard not to be a Grinch this year about Christmas. Generally speaking I don't like Christmas. I like aspects of it, but in general I hate the unrealistic expectations of Christmas and the unnecessary family pressure. I feel like I'm losing the Grinch battle this year and it's not even December yet.

I Want You to Want Me

I know it may appear like I love sex and I’m insatiable. Like all I want to do when I’m with you is get you in bed with me and spend all day there. The reason’s I love sex are not what you think. I haven’t even been able to orgasm during sex with you for months and it’s a rare occurrence anyways.

No, I love sex because it means that you touch me. You put your hands all over me and hold me close. You actually look at me and for that brief moment there is nothing else in your life aside from me. For that brief moment I feel like you might actually care about me. And then we part and instead of caressing me and whispering sweet nothings you roll over or move away so we’re not touching anymore. It breaks my heart when all I want is for you to touch me, hold me close and make me feel safe. It’s even worse when you wait a minute and then run off downstairs for a smoke, or to make a phone call or to get ready to go out to where ever you have to go.

I just want five minutes of your life so that I feel reassured. That I don’t feel like I’m being used even if you are my boyfriend. On the worst of days I fall asleep beside you in tears or cry in the car on my way home. On the best of days I feel hollow and alone. I hate feeling like my desires are unreasonable and that because I want to be close to you I’m an attention whore. I hate feeling like I have to beg for your attention. I hate being rebuffed. I hate feeling like I need to try harder and maybe you’ll eventually respond in kind. I hate feeling like I never have your undivided attention.

I hate how you laughed in my face and expressed supreme doubt when I said that sometimes all I want is to be held. If you wonder why I can’t ever seem to be able to talk to you. If you ever wonder why I’m sad. If you ever wonder why I look at you like that, with the serious face and deep in though. It’s because I just want to be held without sex clouding everything. For once I want to feel like you can’t get enough of me and just want to be near me; that you crave my touch as much as I yearn for yours. I want to feel like you want me.

More Vanity Plates

On my way to campus yesterday I was following a car with the plate, "DR JAYNE". It was no surprise that I followed her all the way into campus.

Walking to class I also saw another vanity plate that made me laugh. I didn't get a good look at the driver, but now I wish I had:

RIXIOU

Essay Proposal Time

My students are starting to pick topics for their major essay. For the next week and a half I'm meeting with all my tutorial students, about 25 in total, to go over their chosen topic and discuss possible thesis statements, sources and how to approach a historical essay in general. So far I've been properly impressed with most of my students in general. Obviously the really keen students would pick meeting times in the first week instead of waiting until the last possible moment to see me next week. That being said I'm happy with the variety of topics they've chosen so far. The last thing I want to do is mark 25 papers of around 10,00 words each on Conscription in WWI, or the Quebec Separatist movement come January. While both topics are engaging in their own rights there are only so many papers with identical arguments a person can read before you begin to go a little crazy.

Christmas Planning Already?!

I got an email from my oldest brother about Christmas. He and his wife are already thinking/worrying/planning for Christmas and it stresses me out. They're trying to come up with ideas for a gift for our parents. I really dislike going in on a group gift since I'm the one who usually plans and buys the gift and then has to chase down all my siblings to pay up. I've been burned too many times for me to want to participate in a group gift.

I'm thinking of getting my parents one of those digital picture frames. My mom got a digital camera last Christmas from my Dad and has yet to print out a single picture from the past year. She's taken some really great pictures of the grand kids and her own children that really should be displayed. I still need to mull this one over though.

This is a day I'm glad is over

Today was the Monday from hell. Except it wasn't Monday, it was Tuesday and the day never seemed to end. I'm happy that it's now time for me to crawl into bed and forget this day ever happened.

From my car not starting this morning, to being late from catching the bus, having a crisis of confidence in the academic arena and finding out it's going to take a couple of hundred bucks to fix my car it all just kept going downhill in a thousand little ways. There was a small glimpse of some good things this evening when I went out to Trivia night at the grad pub with my former room mate and some of my fellow graduate students in the History department. Even still there were just too many negatives for the few positives to offset them. I'm looking forward to a nice long sleep and a fresh start tomorrow.

More of the Parure

I knew I had saved a picture of the matching pin for my new parure. I have everything except the enormous brooch. It's not something I think I'd ever wear since it's pretty big and gaudy, but if I do find it the value of my set increases exponentially.

More from the Collection

I purchased this lovely in the spring at a steal. I was also able to get the matching necklace, but have yet to find the brooch to make it a grand parure instead of the full parure I now currently have. It's a fairly rare set to begin with and I've only ever seen the brooch once on a collectors website so I have a feeling it's going to be a long search to fill out this set.

Some Lines Are As True Today As They Were 412 Years Ago

Recently a line from Romeo and Juliet keeps running through my head. Mostly it is when I'm feeling intensely frustrated or hurt by the behaviour of Candidate #2. I don't even remember what it was that first made me think of it, but it's a line that has become more and more persistent as of late.

"O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?"

I question so much of our interaction lately and wonder at what point is the breaking point for me. At what point is this relationship doing more emotional damage than providing benefit in my life?

Will it never end?

Alone in bed this morning I was thinking about Mr. Intellectual. It’s been 3 years and change since we broke up but I still think about him almost every day and it hasn’t abated with time. Lying on my side, curled up in bed I thought of all those nights we spent together at his parents house spooning on the couch. The way he’d hold me and always wanted to be near me. I miss that closeness and security. I miss feeling truly loved. I miss the way he’d challenge me intellectually and how my mind would work over time when we were together and discussing our work. There has been a huge hole in my life since he left and so far I have yet to find a man who can fill that void. Maybe I’m asking for too much, but I want someone who fulfills me emotionally and intellectually and there just hasn’t been anyone who’s been able to do both and be available to me. I wish I could stop thinking about him though, since I know he’s long since gotten over me and I’m sure doesn’t give me any thought any more since we stopped talking over a year and a half ago.

Another one of my Pieces

I bought the bracelet for my brother's wedding two years ago. After I saw this book piece and realized there was a matching necklace I knew I had to have it. After months of searching and losing it once at auction on ebay, I finally won my necklace. I also managed to snag the matching brooch after coming across it in my searching. It is beautiful and I can't wait to wear this necklace out some where special.

Le peu de temps que j'ai eu

I have a French exam tomorrow. Unfortunately I am cramming because I've been very bad at time management lately.

The one good thing of the day is that my Wednesday group of students actually talked without prodding in seminar! I'm shocked. They have been a very quiet group and it has been painful to get through the hour with them. It has been worse than pulling teeth to make our discussions last the full hour. I hope that next week continues on this positive note. I always knew they were bright students, but for whatever reason's they haven't been good at facilitating discussion on the material. What's interesting is that my Tuesday group who are usually awesome fell totally flat and didn't really engage the material or sustain discussion on it.

The Diva Cup

About four months ago I discovered an interesting alternative to tampons and pads. It came about at a time when I was pretty receptive to alternatives after a couple of bad periods, health issues and some general discomfort using tampons for the entirety of my cycle. Like most women, I assume, I had grown to dread and hate my period while wishing the week away when it was around. I was feeling desperate for something, anything, better. Enter The Diva Cup.

The Diva Cup is a relatively small silicone cup that once inserted catches menstrual fluid without drying like tampons and upsetting the pH of your vagina. I really wanted to love this product since it seemed like the answer to my prayers. After some intense research and reading from a very helpful livejournal group I went out and bought my own Diva Cup. I was actually excited for my period to see how well it actually worked for me. I really wanted it to be great for me, but the first day wasn’t so great. I had some extra cramping, minor discomfort bordering on painful, and one heck of time trying to fish around and remove it the first time. Some deep breaths, more reading on the livejournal site and giving myself time to adjust to something so different meant that it went much better. By day three I was in love with the Diva Cup, despite its corny name. There were absolutely zero leaks and I only had to change it once in the morning and once before bed. By the end of my cycle I could leave it in longer without worrying about it and I could forget about panty liners. I even went to Spin class and worked out with no problems. Once in and properly placed I forgot all about it.

My second period with the Diva Cup was a little more difficult. I had some issues with leaks and proper insertion that would mean no leaks. The same thing has been happening this time as well. When the Diva works, it is fantastic. When it doesn’t work it can be a bit of a pain in the ass, but I’m giving it time because I do love it. It’s fascinating to be able to be more aware of what goes on in your cycle and I no longer find the whole thing so icky. On my third go around, despite the leaks, I’ve been trying to find the proper insertion that works for me without leaking. I think what it comes down to is taking my time and being patient instead of rushing myself in the morning and assuming I have the technique down already. I know it will take a few more cycles before I will get it down easily and quickly, but I’m more than willing to give myself that time.

The Diva Cup’s main attraction was the health benefits, but an added benefit is the environmental factor. By using the Diva Cup I’m not throwing away all that non-biodegradable waste every month, so it’s very environmentally friendly. There also isn’t the monthly expense of all those tampons, pads and liners since the Diva is reusable and can last up to 10 years or so. So in addition to the environmental factors, the cost effectiveness and the health benefits it is definitely something I’m happy to use. I also like that it's a Canadian made product from a small mother daughter company. I think it’s a product you really have to want in order for it to work for you in terms of the patience it takes to learn how to properly use it. There is a learning curve and it takes some time in order to gain a certain level of comfort using it properly. Even with all that, I still recommend it or a similar type of product. I wish I had known about it years ago since it has made my life so much easier.

Guilty Secrets

One of my secrets is that I love watching America's Next Top Model (or any other NTM version) and keeping up with celebrity gossip on dlisted. I guess after a long day flexing my brain I like to just veg out for a breather and ingest something mindless. After that I'm ready to go again with the intellectual pursuits. It's good for me to do something so completely different from the school work, however it is definitely not a habit I publicly admit to.

Yes, I am Lazy.

Sleep deprivation, no inspiration and spending the whole weekend at my parents house with my family has meant that I have nothing to post today except this lame apology. Next week I'm going to try to get some quality out here.

Halloween, 2007

These are the pumpkin's my now former house mate and I carved this year. It was the last night I spent in my old house before moving out. Thankfully we had fun carving them in the afternoon and then handing out candy in the evening to some pretty cute kids. It helped ameliorate some of the bad feelings I had about the house.

Graduation Day

Back in June I graduated from my Master's program. At the time I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to wear. Eventually I found a pair of leopard print pumps at 9 West and knew I had to have them and the outfit would take care of itself. I wasn't sure however, if I was going to be able to snag a pair off season and on short notice. I did, and they are fantastic. Here's a little picture of me in my shoes on graduation day.

Fall in Ontario

This is the view from the back deck of my new place. It feels more like I'm at a cottage from this view than in the middle of a city. Unfortunately my window looks out on the street. Spending a summer here is going to be easy.

Illicit Posting

The only reason I'm on today and posting is because of the NaBloPoMo. I'm at Candidate #2's house and usually wouldn't be on my laptop at all. I know that by getting involved with him again I am playing with fire.

Oh, and I was right about yesterday. Today was not a very good day and it's sliding into quite bad.

Too Good to be True?

Today for a brief moment while driving home from spin class I felt free and happy. It's a feeling I'm not used to, and it usually proceeds a big crash. It scares me, and at the same time I hope it means I'm turning a corner. Only time will tell I suppose.

This & That

My Mother is in town today and tomorrow for a meeting. This is the first time she's been to my new University town in many years, and the first time she's been up to see me here. We went out for dinner, had some amazing steak at this cute little restaurant and talked a lot. It was really great to spend some one on one time with my Mother. It's funny but over the years she's become my best friend, my academic adviser, and my mom. It's nice to know she's there for me no matter what.

"Fun Size"

I'm sitting here eating leftover candy from Halloween. I am officially stress binging and having this much junk in the house is not helping my cause. We didn't get as many kids out as I anticipated and now I'm wishing I had gotten more variety. On second thought I wish I had just bought less, and handed out more to my students instead of banking on lots of kids in my young subdivision.

As for the marketing- who is the guy who came up with labeling teeny-tiny chocolate bars, and miniature packages of M&M's (wherein you receive only five peanut M&M's), as "fun size". It's a brilliant marketing ploy, but I'm not thinking they're all that fun when you eat 10 in a row because they're so small, and honestly who is satisfied with only five M&M's?? I'm bringing my extra candy back to school this week to hand out to my tutorial students before I ruin all my progress from spin class.

Day 2 of Seriously Crappy Internet

It's day two in my new place with the bad internet. I actually haven't spent a night here yet, but tonight I will be staying instead of avoiding the house. I have a lot of things to do this weekend to finish moving in and be ready for school on Monday. Instead, I'd rather just crawl under the covers and disappear for a while.

Right now I feel overwhelmingly sad. I don't know if it's the sleep deprivation, not eating properly or the stress of moving and not being impressed with a few things at the new place. I was thinking about all the moves I've made since starting University and realized that I've moved 8 times in the past 8 years. Technically the number could be 12 since I moved into my various University residences in September and moved out again in April for all four years of my Undergrad. It's no wonder I feel like an unsettled nomad. I'm thinking I'll be looking for an apartment again for this Spring. Living with people and not being in control of things is starting to take it's toll on me. In the meantime I need to figure out how to make this house and my current situation work for me.

What's really not working for me at the moment is how terrible the internet is. I don't get a signal in my bedroom, and on the main floor I get a strong signal, but it takes forever to load even the most basic page, like google. Trying to pick up my email or even read the newspaper online is bringing me to tears of frustration as it times out, doesn't load and eventually, maybe if I'm lucky, it might give me something 5 minutes later. I have yet to get my msn messenger to log in, or facebook. I get the feeling I'll be living on campus from now until I find a new house, since I can't function without my internet.

I Foresee A Long and Difficult Month

Upon moving into my new house, I quickly discovered how painfully slow and unpredictable our internet is. To say I'm upset is an understatement. We're getting new service next week, but I'm not holding my breath because it is only one step up from dial-up, and that doesn't address our poor wireless signal in the upstairs of the house. As someone who lives on and for the internet this is a disaster. The internet is my lifeline, my entertainment, my research tool and academic lifeblood. Without reliable, quick internet my job becomes that much harder. It's also going to make daily postings for NaBloPoMo that much more difficult. As if it isn't hard enough to come up with something to write about daily, now I have to fight the internet as well to make sure I get something posted every day.

I'm going to have to figure out something here, even if it means living on campus for better internet or pirating a neighbours signal. Unfortunately I haven't yet picked up any good signals from the neighbours. I think our subdivision is too new and there aren't as many students around here as in my last neighbourhood.

It's That Time of Year Again

I think I might be a glut for punishment. It's NaBloPoMo time again, and I've signed myself up. I think it would be a good incentive for me to start writing again, and get back in the habit. Or to at least start getting my thoughts out of my head and on to another medium. For the past month or two I haven't written in my journal and I haven't really posted here which isn't that good for me. Writing things out is the only form of 'therapy' and one of the only outlets I have for dealing with my internal struggles. So for the next 30 days I will be posting something (I'm not promising quality) every day.

Today I'm moving and I hope I can get my internet working at the new place by tonight.

Guilt Roses

During the last dying gasps of my relationship with Candidate #2, I was struggling to cope with the start of school, failing to meet expectations and not having assignments completed that are now almost a year overdue. I also had some unexpected financial worries and health concerns that are still ongoing. I was trying to distance myself from him and trying to figure out how to end it all amicably. I've always been bad at ending relationships and they usually wreak havoc on my emotions even if I want out because I hate hurting people.

It was an especially bad week, and I was just waiting for Friday to roll around before breaking up so that he'd at least have the weekend to mope around and deal before showing up at work again. He decided to surprise me and unexpectedly showed up at my place on Thursday evening with two dozen red roses. Apparently it was the first time he had ever done something like this despite being 33 and obviously having had several serious relationships in the past.

He wanted to give me something to smile about since he knew I was having a bad week and wasn't myself. From anyone else and under different circumstances it would have been an exceptionally sweet gesture. Instead I ended up feeling guilty and the roses bought him an extra two weeks since I couldn't bring myself to be so cruel as to break up with him the next day. They were beautiful but in the end there were just too many things that were very wrong with that relationship to save it.

Going Through the Motions

Jane Canuck, Wellbutrin, 10/09/07

Some days are easier than others. I’m under closer observation by my physician and my medication has been increased, but it’s not really any easier. I don’t feel like I’m drowning, but I also have a difficult time finding value in life.

I wake up and focus on getting myself out of bed. With Daylight Saving being extended this year I’m finding it especially difficult to get started in the morning when it’s still dark as night. My day seems to be focused on the next meal, the next commitment I can’t back out of and just getting through the day intact. Every night while I struggle to fall asleep I fervently wish that tomorrow will be better. The thought of continuing on indefinitely with seemingly little purpose begins to choke me. I feel like my existence serves no purpose, like I’m not doing anything or contributing anything and I will just grind through every day, going through the motions of a life, until one day it will all stop and nothing will have mattered.

The things that use to matter to me hold little interest now and I wonder if they ever will. I know that I used to love photography, needlework, reading fiction and expanding my mind through education. Now I look at those things with a disinterested eye and it evokes no emotion. It is hard to find beauty in a world that has become so emotionless for me. Sometimes I force myself to do the things I used to love, but I can’t concentrate for very long, and going through the motions is not like actually enjoying yourself. Doing something for the sake of doing it does not imbue value in that activity. Mostly I try for my Mother. I understand her worry and the desperate desire to make it all better. I see the feelings of hopelessness in her eyes and I want to tell her it’s ok. I want to tell her that sometimes despite a person’s best efforts there is nothing they can do, and that really is ok. I’m not going anywhere. I will go through the motions for you, and maybe one day I really will be ok.

Starting Over

Last night I went for a run. I’ve said for years that I can’t run to save my life. The last time I remember running for anything was playing tag in elementary school and the gym class I took in high school where we played field lacrosse and baseball among other things.

Last night I had to be alone, I had to be outside in the dark. I felt the walls closing in on me and I needed to clear my head. A walk just wasn’t going to cut it. And so I ran. I ran until my throat started burning and my legs were sore. I ran until I stopped thinking about him and what happened. For someone who’s never run in her life before, I don’t think I did too badly. I need to work on my breathing, but I’m proud of how many kilometers I ran versus how many blocks I walked.

Yesterday my doctor told me I needed to be selfish and start looking after myself. It’s not something we often hear as a woman. We’ve been raised to nurture and consider others, to always be polite and think of the other person. Selfish wasn’t really in my upbringing as my mother modeled absolute selflessness in regards to her family. Being told to be selfish is somewhat unusual, and yet she was right. I don’t look after myself, I don’t eat properly, I don’t exercise regularly and when I’m with a boyfriend I usually put myself second. Last night I thought of myself and went for a run.

Today is a different story. I’m back to being confused and wondering if I did the right thing, puzzling over the ‘what ifs’ and feeling hurt that he appears to be getting over me so quickly. I want to talk to him to clarify things in my mind, but I know I should just leave it alone. I feel like I want to spend one more night wrapped in his arms while I sleep, and then in the morning we smile as friends and go our separate way. That’s the idealist in me. The realist knows I can’t go there and what is best for both of us right now is for me to give him space and leave him alone completely. I did the right thing and there were so many reasons why we never quite fit together but that doesn’t stop me from missing things about him.

It’s time to start over and get reacquainted with myself. It’s time to think of what is best for me and to get a little selfish for a change.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

You tell me you love me, but you don’t show me. I tell you I can’t do this anymore and you ask for a couple of days.

“We deserve that at least?” You say.

“That’s only fair.” I reply.

But inside I’m screaming and outside the tears are running down my cheeks. I feel sick to my stomach and I know that you don’t really get me. I feel like I can’t be myself around you and you’ve never really listened to the words that come out of my mouth. Like almost everyone else I’ve ever had a relationship with you only seem interested in what my mouth can do while it’s wrapped around your cock.

You slyly denigrate my work- the very essence of what I am. It’s all I have and right now it is slipping out of my hands and you have no idea.

I wake up every morning and I’m angry. I go to bed every night and I want to slit my wrists, and somewhere in between there I lose myself a little bit more. It’s time to get out before I lose it all.

“I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say right now.” You whisper.

“It’s ok,” I say soothingly, “You don’t have to say anything.”

And just like that I’m once again thinking of someone else’s needs instead of my own, regardless of the consequences to myself. Tomorrow I call my Doctor to up my meds before I do something ridiculous.

Writers Paralysis

I haven’t written a single thing for my degree in almost 4 months. It’s a bit of a shocking realization, and yet not a complete surprise. I’ve worked myself up into a complete state of writer’s block, and worse than that paralysis since I can’t even open up a word document to try to peck away at it, let alone sit to write an entire paper. My mother is beyond concerned but there’s little she can do to force me to finish my two outstanding papers. The consequences of having an incomplete course that is now almost 1 year old is something I don’t really want to think about at the moment. It only fuels my paralysis and feelings of panic.

An acquaintance of mine from the old University had a similar problem in that she was having issues committing to a topic and writing anything coherent. She finally went to the graduate coordinator to explain that she was having significant difficulties and to seek some advice. This is the gem that the grad coordinator left her with:

Grad Coordinator: “Simply stop talking about it and get some A/C.”

Her: “You think I should get air conditioning?”

Grad Coordinator: “No, you need ass on chair. Start writing.”

Funny, but in the end not the most helpful piece of advice. That being said, I’m trying hard to commit to some “ass on chair” time to hammer out these two papers hanging over my head. To say they’re dragging me down is an understatement. I haven't been able to even write out an opening sentence, let alone an opening paragraph.

An Inauspicious Beginning

School starts again tomorrow and I wonder how I got to the place I am right now. I wonder how I’ll manage to dig myself out of this hole, or if I even can? I think about packing it all in and going home. Of sleeping away my days until everything resolves itself. Yet I know that I’m on my own now and it’s my problem to fix. It is my mess to clean up as best I can, and face the consequences if I can’t.

Celebrating a Milestone

In honour of the 40th anniversary of the unveiling of the Big Mac I did the unthinkable. I usually avoid McDonald's like the plague, but such a momentous occasion deserves to be celebrated. So, I went and had a Big Mac for lunch in honour of its birthday.

I haven't had a big mac since high school. I wish I could say it was as good as I remember it from back then, but sadly some things are not as good in reality as they are in your memory. I'm thinking it'll be another 10 years before I have another. So until the 50th anniversary, congrats on becoming an icon of American culture Big Mac.