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