Monday, December 31, 2012

How do you know...

How do you know that depression has finally lost its terrible grip on you?

You spend three days cooking things you've never tried before because you suddenly have a terrible urge to create and feed people. On the third day you sit down and scratch your head and ask yourself WTF just happened then. You realize there's an absence of feeling profoundly sad and anxious. You can almost smell hope lingering in the air.

This is a good start to my 21 days. You can't ask for more than that!

HAPPY New Year my dears!

Sunday, December 30, 2012

21 days to ch-ch-change

They say it takes 21 days to change your mind or rather to create a new habit. I've been thinking a lot about this mainly because it's now exactly 22 days until I will be back at work. I'm not used to being on holiday, obviously, so I do need something occupy my puny little mind with. My puny little mind demands that sort of thing.

It's been close to two years since I had my nervous breakdown. It's been close to two years since I started taking medication for depression and anxiety. I'm classed as suffering from major depression as it's gone on longer than six months.

Is it a chronic condition? No. As much as there is wide debate as to why people suffer from depression, whether it's due to chemical imbalances in the brain or negative thinking/programming, I have decided that the two are linked and I will treat it as such from now.

I take Prozac. I would rather not take Prozac since it pretty much numbs everything you feel (which is also why it's impossible to be in love when you're on Prozac unless it suits you just right). My aim is to not need Prozac.

I have decided that today is dedicated to the postmortem of my nervous breakdown/depression/anxiety and that from tomorrow onwards my focus will shift into a more positive realm.

Before Christmas I bought myself a pretty notebook that I intended to use and my want-need book. It was to be used to create a road map of what I actually want in life. It is to give me a better picture of what I actually want in life and to weed out what I only think I want.

I will in the next 21 days begin to create new thoughts for my puny mind to deal with and they will be a lot more positive than the ones I have allow my puny little mind to be entertained with for the past two years. It's an experiment to see if the 21 days to change is a fact and I will be my own guinea pig.

There was a time when I was most positive and I'm heading back towards that as I type. The course has been set and 2013 will begin like no other year: I will make it about changing my own mind into a more happy and content status.

I will keep you posted.

Saturday, December 29, 2012

2013 is the new year in which I will....

I live in Sydney, Australia, and like most Sydneysiders I am both in love and in hate with Sydney.

A true Sydneysider complains bitterly about where they live while steadfastly refusing to move anywhere else.

If you live in Sydney having an obscene obsession with real estate and being mathematically challenged is definitely an asset. Sydney is an overcrowded, bitter place to live in and it's now, apparently, officially the most expensive city to live in on earth.

I hesitate to call it "home" and have not yet caught myself doing it in conversation.

Sydney is full of intolerant people. Sydneysiders bicker over space on roads and public transport. We elbow each other without shame in supermarkets and when the post-Christmas sales are on it's OK to trample anyone who stands in the way of you snatching up a bargain you don't really need anyway.

Sydney is dog eat dog, and it's not just any old dogs; it's pitbulls.

Even dating in Sydney is a hazard. If you're in the 30-45 year bracket you're shit out of luck when it comes to finding romance. The women is looking for a life partner and the men, being bitter after having been rejected so much in their twenties, hate women and just want to find someone to screw.

Sydney is cold and hopeless and depressing (much like myself).

I don't know why I still live here except for that this is where I earn my money and grow my child. This is the village I have chosen to spend the second half of my life in but I so miss the old days in the Swedish pine and birch forest. My soul is smarting from being in Sydney for too long and it's longing is so strong it threatens to burst out in full frustrated bloom all over the shitty place that Sydney is. What's good about living in Sydney? Not much except that when you start wearing your pink hair it takes approximately six months for 10% of women to follow suit; that's how starved we are of attention and imagination.

Then there's this thing about a new year looming backstage nervously waiting to be brought in by firecrackers, champagne and all that other hooha people tend to get up to and into on New Year's Eve. I have decided that I will limit myself to drinking gin and tonic because the lemons in it are as tart as I am and I've only just become grown up enough to discover it. This was after I discovered Calvados recently but thought it made me look too snobby drinking it. I live in a beer city for heaven's sake!

What will 2013 hold for someone like me? I have no bleeding clue because I have no road map or plan. 2013 lies within a few days' reach and it's a blank slate that I have to fill with meaningful things. One thing I do know is that it's time I do a postmortem on 2012 and my life so far. If you're at all interested I will do it here. If not I will keep it to myself.

2013 is the new year in which I will....(fuck my life up yet again but only enough to write about it here*grin*.)

Sunday, December 16, 2012

The thing about this society of ours

I must admit that I have avoided reading too much about the shootings in Connecticut. Not only do I not agree with having guns but I also think that it's high time to take a very serious look at the kind of society we have created.

I think it's easy to forget that we are part of creating the society we live in. By accepting that we can't change things because we feel powerless we become culprits too. On the lowest level of this argument is the fact that our politicians and leaders cannot possibly know what we want unless we tell them.

It's hard to be heard but you can bet your last cent that right now there are a lot of people, not only in the US, worrying about the same thing. None of us want to see what happened in Connecticut happen anywhere else and we would like to see it prevented.

We have to ask ourselves why there is a need to have so many guns and we have to ask why we allow it. If the safety of people who don't carry guns cannot be guaranteed then it's time to review why we allow guns in our society.

I think it's a bit like smoking. Why allow cigarettes to be sold at all if they're so harmful. Why not get serious about quitting smoking and give people who need help quitting some real help? Why not make sure that our stores are not saturated with the unhealthy food that causes a range of health problems. And, why not indeed make sure that guns are not accessible to people who as a result of their mental state cannot be trusted with having guns accessible to them.

There's another problem here too. We don't take care of our own. It's easy to blame parents for raising kids who go on to do bad things but when I look at my own community it becomes blatantly clear to me how it happens. Kids are being raised by people who have problems with alcohol and drugs, and these people clearly cannot raise kids because they have problems of their own. If the parents can't take responsibility for these kids we, others!, have to unless we're happy seeing another generation of alcoholics and drug addicts grow up next door. It's as simple as that. Not everyone gets the nurturing they need in their formative years and on the whole that's unfair because many bright human beings get lost too early. Their destiny becomes one of suffering and producing more people who will suffer and have a negative impact on others, their community.

It's time that we stop swallowing what we're told and start trusting our own gut instinct. It's time we stop being gutless and that we stand up against what is wrong with our world today. We forget that our leaders are only human and that they are much like us. The fact is that they depend on approval to keep their jobs and it's up to us to show that certain interests are not more powerful than "the people".

I'm just saying.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

I'm going to talk about "it"

I'm going to talk about "it": the demise of guys, you know that thing that psychologist extraordinaire Lombardo wrote a book about. I'm going to hit it up from one angle and that's from the sex angle.

I've been told that the reason heterosexual guys hate homosexual guys is that the gay guys get laid all the time without having to wine and dine. It makes sense I suppose because if they want to "do it" with a woman men generally have to spend some time trying to persuade her that there's something in it for her and that it's not just sex. Women don't just get turned on just like that. Like Goldie Hawn said: "We like to be touched - a lot".

Having a fourteen year old I have spent a lot of time thinking about what kind of guys she will go out with, and eventually have sex with, and it's a lot scarier than when I was a teen. With the rise of internet porn readily available at a mouse click young boys are learning that gals are gagging for it. It doesn't take anything really to get women in the mood.

The real problem here is that we usually don't. It takes a little more and when we say no we're often met with a barrage of abuse and we get accused of being frigid. If you have ever been online dating you know what I mean. Men do not take rejection easily and often have lots to say about your character and attributes when you do reject them.

I was having a discussion with a male friend recently. We were talking about all that. I was telling him that if he was out hunting rabbit he would get nothing if he stood in a paddock demanding that the rabbit came running and die at his feet. He has to learn to hunt rabbit. The same goes for chasing women. There are a lot of things that can happen to a woman that's not all that pleasant if she's not careful and therefore we are careful. We also need to be treated with respect.

Internet porn may spare a lot of parents answering embarrassing questions about sex but it sure doesn't do anything for making sure that young, and more mature gentlemen, actually find a woman they can have sex with. All it does is create a very wrong picture of that us women "should be" and it certainly has done nothing for equality.

Thursday, December 13, 2012


My dentist is a man (!) and he looks exactly like a dentist should. If they made ads in which they showed the dentist's face they, the dentists, would look like Richard, my dentist.

I call him "my dentist" even though I'm certain he sees other patients. I don't mind. I wouldn't want him to dig around in my mouth full time because I suffer from being deathly afraid of going to the dentist. Despite Richard.

I've seen Richard three, or is it four times now, and when I hiked off this morning, daughter in tow because she was also seeing my dentist (I told you he sees other patients!) I was suffering from the most horrible panic attack. I wanted to down a whole bottle for Remy Martin fine champagne cognac (guaranteed to make you lose consciousness and any will to care even in the smallest quantities) just to get through it but I resorted to prescription drugs.

It was a bit of a duh-moment when the drugs kicked in and I realized, or rather remembered, that I'm deathly afraid of going to the dentist and that is why I was having a panic attack. It wasn't because of some unknown reason or some sort of existential breakdown (I think I am therefore I must be imagining me), I was just having a run of the mill experience related to fear of having some guy doing stuff to my teeth.

I feel a little foolish when these things happen especially since Richard is a kick-arse dentist who doesn't hurt you and who likes to teach you to brush your teeth well even though it means less business for him. I came through it all OK. I didn't have anything nasty in my teeth and now I have a really nice smile because he polished my pegs too.

Also, in other news, his goth dental nurse, who never smiles, laid eyes on my pink hair and Dr Martens and her face broke into what is bound to be a historical smile. For a brief moment we were sisters and she was happy to see me. It was a bonus I didn't count on, kind of like an early Christmas present.

I'm just saying. *Smile*

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Hypno Blast

Don't go and have hypnotherapy unless you want your mind changed. Really. I'm just saying.

I will, hopefully, fill you in more on this subject soon I hope. I've just lost my words. Again.

Monday, November 12, 2012


It’s actually possible to lose your mojo.

It’s possible to have never had any to begin with.

I hope I’m in the first category because it stands to reason that it’s easier to get something back that you once had than it is to find something you never had in the first place.

Someone commented that I’m a sad read. It’s been bothering me. It’s been bothering me a lot.
I’m a drama queen, I think that much is clear, but I’m doing the best I can. I’m depressed. I’m anxious. I’m confused. I’m trying to heal myself. Lay off me for f***’s sake. I’m not meant to be amazingly happy here, OK? Can we agree on that? Yeah?

It’s impossible for me to feel happy when people like Mitt Romney almost get to become the president of the United States of America. You’re a lovely a country (I’m sure) but almost half of you need to look in the mirror and ask yourself what it is that made you think that having Mitt as your leader would be good. I’m just saying.

You only know me as the blogger who whinges about her relationship and her nervous breakdown. You don’t know me as the person who grew up unloved and ignored every time she had an opinion. You just don’t know just how hard my life has been. You don’t understand me. No one understands me. I told my therapist this and she had the bloody gall to be offended. That just proves my point.

I need constant attention which is why I blog (and not regularly either I may add because I want you to miss me!) because there’s absolutely no other reason to blog. Who the hell wants to sit and read posts that talks about how bloody marvellous the blogger feels all the time? I have a responsibility to my audience to be miserable and to blog about it. I don’t suppose you would understand…ME.

I’m just saying.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Dear Everybody, I'm so relieved to see Obama win!

Business men and misogynists should not run countries.

It's nice to see a Black Dude in the White House for a second term. It seems right somehow. Now let him reform the health care and what not over there and it's all good.

I'm just saying.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

New York: Statue of Liberty after Hurricane Sandy

I can have it any which way I ****ing want BECAUSE I’m a woman (a human being of the female variety like)

Ever since Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard did a verbal on opposition leader Tony Abbott in parliament, and chastised him for being misogynist, the debate about equality has been somewhat more heated than normal.

It’s the age old argument: Feminists are the female versions of bastards, women don’t know what they want (equality or chivalry) and we should all just shut up and get back into our boxes, women and men alike!

No. We shouldn’t get back into our boxes and we shouldn’t shut up. If we are to get anywhere with this one we need to speak honestly about how we feel about the whole gender issue.

I get that men are confused because us girlies seem to want to have doors opened for us and meals paid for on a first date while at the same time demanding equal pay and a lack of sexual harassment in the workplace.

I get that this is a complicated issue and that we’re battling with while being in a transition period. We are still transiting from being a lot more patriarchal to (hopefully) allowing ourselves to pass into a more gender equal society.

I get that women in the first world have come a long way and that compared to our third world sister we are a bunch lucky bitches. It doesn’t mean things can’t still improve.
Trust me; most of the sisterhood gets this and a hell of a lot more. It’s a no-brainer.

What we don’t get is blatant sexism and sexual harassment. It’s simply not useful and it has no place at all in society. It’s bloody stupid and it’s detrimental. It’s a stupid power game and that’s all it is.

Now here, I’m so sick of hearing this one: Why should I guy pay for the meal on a date? No, really. I hear you. But then why should I as the woman bother to cook for you, the man, when you come over to my place and bother to have a beer in the fridge for you even if I don’t drink that shit. Call it an investment, and investment you make as a personal gesture towards another human being showing your good will. Let’s call it that because that’s all it is. It’s like me buying a pal a sandwich or getting them a coffee.

I’m sick of the short sightedness. It’s really quite simple: I want to have the same opportunities as men in the workplace. I like when you hold the door open for me but I don’t expect it.

It’s really this simple: We should be friends first. We are not women and men in some sort of war of species; we are humans, we are part of a larger tribe and we need to work together. We can’t really get along without one another because Mother Nature made sure we have to interact to propagate the species.

But really, most of all I want to be allowed to exist as a human being while being a woman and not have to worry about what that means. If I want to fix my own broken stuff, have short fingernails sans nail polish, wear boots instead of high heels AND dye my hair pink, or not, then that’s what I want to do. If you expect me to be anything else I’ll probably get a little cranky just like most people do in a situation like that.

We need to move beyond the “gender war” and just get on with it. I bet you in New York today they’re not worrying about gender. It’s a relatively small issue as far as issues go.

Also, apparently I’m a sad read. Maybe. I think it would be more correct to say that I write more when I’m frustrated and since I suffer from depression that happens a lot. I also think too much, which means I sit here and wonder why the hell we bother putting up all these barriers to progress. The planet is having a few issues with how we are treating it and we sit here and argue about opening doors for people or not. Come on! Having said that I’m a person, I feel, I cry and I scream. A lot of the time I do that here. Hopefully not all the time and not at the same time.

I’m just saying.

Happy fucking Halloween!

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening...."

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open… No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”
Martha Graham

Sunday, October 28, 2012

"Leonardo, you think too much!" - if I didn't have to do chores....

The Merry posted this as a comment on my last post but I think it deserves a post of its own:

One afternoon, in sunny June
I happened to think, as I stood at the sink
And scrubbed away, at the dirty plates
And listened to music on my phonograph
I thought a question I've often asked....

Did Beethoven do the dishes?
Did Mozart sweep the floors?
Did all those great musicians have to do their chores?
I can't help but think of the songs I'd sing
If I just didn't have to clean the house
I know I'd be on top of the Billboard charts
If my cat had not just killed a mouse, and brought it into the house

I have these great ideas, but I also have a life
If I don't do the laundry, I'll soon run out of socks
I'll bet that Johann Sebastian Bach never had to worry about clean socks
I'll bet that Pjotr Tchaikovsky never took the garbage out
I'll bet that Verdi rarey helped rake the leaves
Even when his wife asked 'please-pretty please'

My driver's license did expire just two weeks ago
I'll bet that thought never occured to Michaelangelo
Madame Curie never had to serve on a jury
Joseph Hayden hid from taking care of the kids
Mozart was poor but you can be sure
He never had to baby-sit
And this is it, it's all she writ
Didn't have time for more of it

Friday, October 26, 2012

"Leonardo, you think too much!"

Today, because I'm off work but managed to somehow sleep through the best part of the day because I had an anxiety attack yesterday that lasted all day, I've been wondering if the people we think of as the great thinkers of this world ever got told by their parents that they think too much. I was and I'm not even a great thinker.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012


There are those of us who seem to be in constant search of something undefinable. These people seem restless and impatient to others. They can’t seem to settle down and always seem to be on their way to the next best thing even when they have found something that they claimed to be searching for. It’s like nothing is good enough for them, like they always need a new adventure or that they’re convinced that there’s something shinier and brighter somewhere else, just never where they are. They’re energetic, adventurous and fearless. They don’t attach themselves to anyone and it gives the impression that they don’t need anyone in their lives.

In truth these people know no peace. Sleep is not rest to them, it’s something they have to do that interrupts their search for something that will finally satisfy them and make them feel content. They’re like addicts in search for the next hit, and they know that they can’t abandon their search because if they do, the result is catastrophic.

They challenge boundaries. They scale mountains. They break new ground. They rub up against convention and they tear barriers down. They seem inexhaustible and their energy seems limitless. Most of all they seem to be completely fearless, even reckless, and sometimes we worry that they’ll end tearing down something that’s vital or valued by others, or if we care about them that they will end up hurting themselves sometimes to the point that their light will be snuffed out for good. There’s no stopping them. They know no peace.

What may seem like bravery and courage to others, or even fearlessness, is a need that is so strong that it can’t be turned off or even eased. There is nothing that will ease the pain these people feel or to soothe that feeling they have that they don’t belong, or that there is something else they should be doing. Others tell them to relax but they can’t. Something is tugging at their souls with such persistent force that even their dreams become part of the search. In the end they’d rather not sleep for fear of losing control.

When exhaustion comes, as it must, they end up wondering if the only way they will ever get to rest is death. They find no solace in the thought that there is an afterlife because all they long for is the silence of their own mind and the permanent rest that comes with no longer existing.

Sometimes I think I am one of those people.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Che Guevara - hamster style

Don’t ask me why, I really don’t know why, but for the longest time I’ve wanted to own a Che Guevara t-shirt.

My desire may have increased during but especially after my second marriage because husband #2 was, apart from being American (not that it’s bad to be American), republican (see it needed to be said that he was American or else the impact of the word “republican” would have been lessened enormously) and a profound hater of anything as unpatriotic as revolution or freedom fighting. Damned commies!

So recently, a few months after I was overcome with the need to dye my hair pink, I scoured the internet for a source and I found my Che Guevara t-shirt. It was grey (an unassuming color in itself) with Che printed on the chest. The pièce de résistance of the thing was that the makers of the t-shirt had taken the time to give Che a red star on his cap. It was completely irresistible. I got it.

Friday is kind of “casual Friday”, or “mufti” as they like to call it here in the land of Oz, in the office so one Friday I decided to wear “the Che” to work together with my gun steel gray Dr Martens. There’s nothing quite like being revolutionary on a Friday, I tell ya!

I was feeling pretty good about myself, and even a little bit controversial, but that only lasted until someone took one look at my chest, chuckled and said “Only a real woman can make Che Guevara look like a hamster”.

It took me a while, actually it took me going to the bathroom checking myself out in the mirror, to figure out what the hell this person was talking about. There, across my chest, was poor Che Guevara stretched in a way reminding me about how young Elvis stretched over time to become fat Elvis. It looked like I was wearing a t-shirt sporting a picture of Che Guevara and a hamster’s love child. I had my Che Guevara t-shirt but it wasn’t looking at all the way I had dreamed of.

I don’t have a picture of me in it but it looked something like this:

Crushed dreams.

I'm just saying.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

I need a blood transfusion

Exhaustion sometimes sets in and that's time you need hope but it's seldom a time when hope shows up willingly. Right now I'm flogging a dead horse and that horse is me.

I'm at the pinnacle of something but I have no idea what it is. I know, for certain, that my life is not what I would like it to be and that there are things holding me back, things that really shouldn't hold me back. More than anything I need to talk. I need to talk and not be misunderstood, judge, filtered or even taken for anything, or mistaken for anything. I'm just human.

I feel like it's a mess. It's one big mess. From the election in the US, to the politics in Australia, to the situation with my parents, my daughter's learning difficulties, my relationship with O, work and most of all what I want to be when I grow up. I feel like I could really use some direction but at the same time I'm so tied down by other people's expectations that I find it hard to breathe.

I need space.

I need someone to hold me tight and tell me it's OK.

I need to stop thinking for a while.

I need emptiness.

I need love.

I need some sort of girlfriend character to smack me around the head, open a bottle of wine and demand I pour my heart out to her.

I need to fall somewhere soft.

I need to move because I'm no longer depressed and anxious, I am held back.

I need to graffiti the world and start a revolution.

I'm in a relationship that's like stale water and I'm fucking thirsty.

I'm trying to make O be everything in my world and he refuses to laugh with me.

I'm trying to make O hate me just so I can start a revolution. Actually no, I'm trying to make him change the water.

I need a Border collie to come snap at my heals so I get back in the damned flock and behave.

I need to have fun. Remember having fun? Was that something that ended in the 80s or 90s or do people actually still do that? Without apps like?

I'm too old for this shit!

What do you do when life has slowly nudged you to that point that you want to scream because you're starting to feel like stupidity is surrounding you? You're besieged with it. It's like that old movie in which they shout "The Zulus are coming!". "Stupidity is coming! Oh my God, I'm outnumbered. Badly."

Now logic tells me that it's not that everyone else is stupid it's just that my tolerance for people are so low right now that I'm about to implode. You can't function in the world if you're intolerant of everything around, if everything around you frustrates you.

I think partially this is due to coming out the other side, but not quite all the way, of the breakdown and fully expecting everything to be fine. It's like booking a trip to Barbados only to find it rains for the whole time. That's not what they showed in the brochure.

I would like to sit down and talk to someone about my hopes, my dreams and everything else, and I would like to be someone who doesn't have a preconceived idea about me. No! I'm not talking therapy. I'm talking about a person. Someone who's like your bestest girlfriend but they won't tell you what to do but they will tell you if you're being an arse.

What I need right now is not sex, drugs and rock 'n 'roll. What I need now is a bottle of Cointreau and a human being ready to talk crap for hours. Maybe we'll order in. Maybe we'll call each other names, laugh at our own stupidity and generally become unruly and silly. Maybe we'll solve the world's problems, one by one of course, and maybe we will start that revolution.

I'm tired my friends and I need a blood transfusion. I need input!

I'm just saying.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Don't jog on! Keep hanging about!

I know my posting is sporadic at best and that it's been like for a while but I would like to keep the attention of the few readers I do have here.

The after effects of my nervous breakdown, the depression and the anxiety, seems to be winding down. Sure I still have to take my Prozac but I don't suffer the way I used to and I don't think I will need to take Prozac for F O R E V E R anymore. I'm healing. It's nice.

I don't feel all the comfortable blogging at the moment because I'm not so sure what I want to talk about.

I'm mad at the world in the sense that it seems like there's a real possibility that conservatism will take over in the US and that's a scary thing. To me. Anyway.

I'm mad at the conservatism that's creeping up here in Australia too. The latest, not the greatest, is an outcry at a campaign for year 12 students that is trying to teach students not to be "heterosexist".

Personally I would prefer if people just stopped giving a crap about who others want to sleep with and be done with it, alas that seems impossible. I know that homophobia is rampant in schools and for the sake of the welfare of those "unfortunate" enough to be different can we please all agree that we all don't give a crap either.

There are worse things in this world and we need to worry about them. There are people starving (still!) and if Steve loves Steve I think it doesn't matter nearly as much as the people starving thing. That's just how I am. I'm just saying.

I'm suffering from graphomania at the moment, I just can't stop drawing, so hopefully I will be able to give you some drawings to look at if I continue to fail to string words into to sentences and sentences into blog post. But hey, you, stick around because I enjoy noticing traffic on my page. It gives me the impression someone likes to read what I throw up here (and I especially love it when they comment *hint* *hint*).

So, in the name of feeling a lot less anxious and depressed, and feeling a lot more weird and different from others I wave at you out there in the blogosphere and hope you have a sterling day! I think I'm having one of those so I'd like you to have one too.

I'm just saying.

Friday, October 12, 2012


I'm currently on half the dose of Prozac than I was a month ago.

I'm not taking Xanax.

I'm not taking Valium.

I'm not even taking anything to help me sleep.

Just thought I'd post about that because:


Wednesday, October 3, 2012

I. Really. Must. Right. Something.

The world has become a very scary place in my mind which is why I often gargle my mind with sentences from books I like, sentences like “It is to erase the fixed smiles of sleeping couples that Satan trained rooster to crow five times in the morning” (Jitterbug Perfume – Tom Robbins), because they keep the fear at bay.

Nowhere is it clearer than in the US election campaign that the world is a world divided into the rich and poor. This thing that we’ve swallow about how we can all make it big and become rich has suddenly acquired a bitter taste. I’ve been waiting for people to wake up for some time now and now it seems that people are beginning to see that the divide between the rich and the poor is getting larger and larger. The richer are getting richer and there is more of the poor.

I hope and I really hope that for our sake the current trend of believing in capitalism will change. Socialism isn’t the answer either but surely we’re clever enough to think up something better and fairer.
Apart from that I must really write something, right? I miss writing.

Friday, September 21, 2012

In which I realize I need people

I don't know if it's the hypnotherapy or me going off Yaz that's making me feel better...

Re. Yaz: I was googling something, I can't even remember what is it was it so paled into insignificance after I found the Yaz thing, and I came across all this anecdotal evidence that YAZ is possibly the root of all evil in the known Universe. Well not all of it and not the Universe, just possibly my depression and my anxiety in my known Universe. So I quit it. I completely screwed up my menstrual cycle but I feel better.

I bet Barry the hypnotherapist would like to take credit for me feeling better.

I don' care, I mean I really don't care whether it's the hypnotherapy or the going off evil Yaz, because I feel so much better. But in true form I, as usual, realize that I now have new problems. Other problems. Problems unlike the ones I just went out there to "fix" or lessen.

I'm like that, you know. I'm like that because I have to question everything and I will never quite be dumb enough to be content or completely happy. I'm really like that.

So anyway, going from doom and gloom, and terror and fear, to being calmer and more content I have now realized that I don't get validated enough. When you're depressed you're dead set certain that no one loves you anyway and you just don't have the energy to maintain too many relationships. Let's face it, you spend most of your energy just getting by and holding on.

So here I am, one and a half year out of my nervous breakdown and I realize that I have streamlined my social life to the point it now lacks severely. What can you do? I would like to find a bunch of creative people to hang out with now because, holy Jeebus, I'm having some pretty radically creative ideas that I would like to set in motion right now.

Most of all though I need validation. I need to know that I'm OK to talk to and hang out with. I need to know that even though I'm so nerdy on so many levels that I'm kind of a cool human being to hang with. I need input, from people other than my own brain because my own brain is people I have spent way too much time with in the past one and a half years.

Heh! I think I'm getting better ya'll. I think I will give Barry the hypnotherapist the credit. He's a really nice guy.

I'm just saying.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

I’m not given to hope, not at the moment anyway.

Barry the hypnotherapist says that “hope” and “can’t” are two of the four worst words in the English language. I can’t remember the other two but I suspect that they’re “gratitude” and “shouldn’t”.

There are people in this world who have given up all hope that their lives will ever change. They just get on with it, day after day. If something were to come along and make things different they probably wouldn’t notice so sure are they of the status quo they’re in. Except, maybe they will notice the nervous feeling in their stomachs, the feeling you get when you’re about to experience something new and unknown.

There are times when it seems that the whole world is in a state of fear, when fear is something you live with day in, day out. When people fear they do different things. They fight. They run. They destroy the thing they fear. They put a lot of distance between it and them. It’s when the fear is within them that they can’t fight it, run from it, destroy it or put a lot of distance between it and them. It’s when they are forced to face it. It’s when they lose hope.

I have that nervous feeling in my stomach.

I keep looking for answers.

“Don’t stare at the sun or you’ll go blind”, is what your mother used to tell you when you were little but sometimes you just want to know something so badly that you’ll take the risk of losing your sight just to get a little glimpse of what it may really be all about.

When you’re little, all you want is for the stories your parents read to you to be true. You wish you could crawl into the worlds in the books and live there. Deep down you know that it can’t ever happen. It’s the knowing that the magic isn’t quite there even if you’d really like it to be. You know instinctively that it’s not what life is about. The truth is you feel safe there with your parents and that you really wouldn’t want things to be any other way.

When you’re little you like to think that you know everything but the last thing you really want to do is to know it all. What you really want is for grown-ups to make the world a safe place where dreams can come true and promises are never broken. When you’re little it doesn’t seem like too much to ask for.

Before you were born you spent nine months in your mother’s belly and not once did you doubt that things weren’t going to turn out the way they should. You didn’t worry about if your ears where going to be finished in time, if your hands where going to develop properly or if you were going to be beautiful enough. You didn’t even wonder what kind of person you should or shouldn’t be. You just trusted the process and you had no need to intervene or act. There, in the safety of your mother’s belly, all was well and everything was going according to plan even if you never spent any time at all worrying or thinking about there being a plan. You felt no need to control. You spent all your time just being.

There are things in life that don’t make any sense and they can never make any sense, and if you are anywhere near smart you know that but you also know that your job is not to give up. Your job is to keep trying to make sense out of the things that don’t make sense, to keep trying to understand things that can never be understood.

People will always find different names for their answers but the questions will always be the same.

If you have suffered pain you come to understand it, you know its nature. You almost become friends with it. You’ll come to know intimately how it feels and what it does to you. More importantly you’ll know what it looks like and you’ll recognize it when it’s in other people. People who have no empathy for others have not felt pain. They are blind to it. It’s easy to envy them. They go through life completely unaware of what it feels like when pain tears through your being and leaves you in pieces, and how fear inevitably follows. Those people are of little service to those who are in pain. They’re only able to serve themselves. Their existence must be a lonely one. Perhaps they’re not so enviable after all.

Why do people so desperately want to think we’re not alone, that there are beings from other worlds or dimensions watching us, that there is a God? Why is it more comforting to think we’re being watched than to know that no one is watching us at all? And why really, should that make us any less alone? In the end, if there are others out there, something else out there, wouldn’t we be, all of us, still alone together?

Why is it easier to pray for help and guidance from someone or something when you don’t even have solid proof it does exist than it is to ask another human being for the same? Why is it easier to thank God than your fellow human beings for the blessings in your life?

People believe what they want to believe. They find meaning where they can and they cling to it. In the end it really doesn’t matter what’s the truth and what’s not. What matters is that people believe. When people stop believing all is lost.

The sky just goes on and on, and we play all our games beneath it. It’s of no consequence to the sky.

Everything has a beginning and an ending. That is the unmistakable truth of it all.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

A sign that I am perhaps feeling better

I was just sitting here thinking about how freakin' annoyed I am with this whole depression thing, how I can't (apparently) find a miracle cure for it, how my mind dares to behave like this and how I would do anything to feel better. From some obscure corner a clearly amused voice exclaims "I will do anything to feel better except feel better!". I made me laugh! Shouldn't it be just that simple? Shouldn't we just be able to say to ourselves once we've figured out intellectually that there's no reason to feel anxious and profoundly sad that it's OK to start feeling OK again?

What's stopping us?

These are the kind of fantastic little questions I like to ask myself in order to show myself that I'm clearly capable of turning my mood around. I have to wonder about what benefits my subconscious sees in keeping me in this state where I feel less than, shall we say, optimal.

I wonder how I got here and I realize the road was very long. I have consistently set about putting myself in situations where I can get punished. Martyrdom isn't nearly as much fun as it made out to be and it's seldom met with appreciateion.

Anyway, I keep trying  to nut this one out and I do realize that someone, The Universe or God or whatever, clearly has a sense of humor.

As I'm looking for a new technical writer I opened my mouth last week and said jokingly "Wouldn't it be bloody hilarious if XX would apply for the job?" XX used to work for me and I had to performance manage him because he did nothing, he left of his own accord only to send me a very "colorful" e-mail, clearly written in a drunken state or during a psychotic episode of some sort, telling me what a $@*&%$#^ I am and how I would rot in hell. I think I posted about it here actually.

This sense of humor is in stark contrast to the lack of a sense of humor of my own. I'm frustrated and I'm at a loss, not helpless though - that's different, to find anything that will snap me out of the current low. I will state this though:

I categorically refuse to feel like this for much longer.

I'm just saying.

Monday, September 10, 2012

In which I angrily rant on about my depression and the lack of a cure

I realize that you can’t really expect the world or the people in it to solve your problems but I can’t help but to think that it would be nice if it or they could. Just every now and then.

I’ve learned more about my mind and brain, and my human behavior biology than I probably cared to in the last week or so and it’s really interesting stuff.

I’ve wished that I had somehow married Professor Robert Sapolsky because if anyone could understand me he would be that someone.

I’ve searched for answer about my depression because it seems that I have graduated from being merely depressed to suffering from major depression.

On a more positive note though, I think I’ve kind of have a much better handle on the anxiety. I say this cautiously because I don’t want to make it angry so it stirs into action again.

I’m “at peace” with being depressed. I’m not at peace with how it makes me think. It’s putting any previously conceived conspiracy theory to shame and it does so in a very personal way. They’re out to get me. You’re out to get me. I’m out to get me. Everything is out to get me. There’s simply no reasonable explanation for why everyone, including myself, would waste so much energy on being out to get me but it is the unmistakable truth about my existence.

If I was suffering from cancer (and it’s probably out to get me too, let’s face it) I would be in chemotherapy and getting blasted with radiography by now. There would be a team of doctors and nurses out to get back at it and I would be thinking positive because you must think positive (or you die) when you have cancer.

Thank goodness I don’t have cancer. I couldn’t think positive if I tried.

The problem with depression is that no one seems to know what’s going on. The treatment consists of you and a bunch of highly educated people approaching your condition much the same way you throw darts at a dart board; you aim and hope for the best. If you’re lucky it’s bullseye but that rarely seems to happen so here we are, depression and I, and currently it’s in charge.

There are no tiny armies of nanobots that can be sent into my mind to kick ass and get serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine to behave in a way that doesn’t affect me adversely. This is a hit and miss science and for a cerebral person like myself it’s pure torture to not be able to have any sort of control over how I feel.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know what you’re dying to tell me. Think positive and it will change. CBT is (apparently) the most effective treatment for depression and anxiety, and that’s all very well and good but I, I, cannot wrap my head around that shit now and I would like to get a shot of “cheer-me the-fuck-up-instantly”, thank you very much. That would be helpful at this stage.

I’m going back to Barry the hypnotherapist again tomorrow and I hope he can penetrate my thick skull with his suggestions and make sure the depression buggers off. I’m done with it. I want to break up with it. I don’t think we’re meant to be. It would be totally awesome at this stage to look at something I’ve done and declare it awesome in my own mind. If I can do that maybe I can declare myself awesome next.

I’m just saying.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

In which I admit that I might have fallen in love with Professor Sapolsky

Recently someone sent me a link to a Stanford lecture. The lecture was on schizophrenia and the lecturer was Professor Robert Sapolsky. This is how I became interested in the subject of Human Behavior Biology and it is why I have sat through 25 of his lectures on the subject. The man is a great lecturer and I have learned so much about human behavior that you all almost make sense to me now.

I had to admit though to the person who sent me that link that I would totally "do" Sapolsky because not only is he smart and funny, his brain is amazing.

I'm not happy now that I have come to the end of the lectures and I don't really know what to do next. I can't think of another subject to be interest and certainly not another professor.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Day one post Hypnosis: In which I am radically less anxious

I'm sceptic about most things that promise "instant" results. In fact, I'm so suspicious of it that I even refuse to contemplate the concept of "instant soup".

So, it's with mixed feelings that I report to you that my anxiety levels today are significantly lower. Significantly. My anxiety levels are so low that I can at this stage contemplate going back to the Barry the hypnotherapist next Tuesday, my next appointment, and ask him if he could please aim for making me super calm. I'm talking about the kind of calm Noah must have had inside him when we was told that the whole world was going to flood and he just went about building a boat and collecing animals. I'm talking about the mind of calm the Hulk doesn't seem to possess at all.

I'm quietly hopeful that I have swallowed my last Xanax and/or Valium, and I'm ever more quietly hopeful that I will soon be able to cut my Prozac in half. Hope is a terrible thing because it makes promises it rarely is able to deliver on which is why I'm quietly hopeful.

At this stage I don't care if this state persists or not. To get a few days relief from my own mind's obsessing and turmoil is a blessing. At this stage I will just enjoy the holiday. And the sunrise. I happen to notice it looks particularly nice this morning. :)

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

In which I get radical on my anxiety’s arse

Two weeks ago I experienced a whole, A WHOLE!, week of no anxiety and I felt like I was the queen of beating anxiety so badly that it was never going to be able to walk properly again.

All of the past week I have suffer from the most severe prolonged anxiety I have ever experienced.

One should never count one’s chicken before their all safe in the coup, that’s what they say.

Having experienced that profound change for the worse by Thursday last week I was somewhat desperate. I wasn’t content with snacking on Xanax and Valium so I set about looking for a miracle cure. I decided in pure desperation that I would try hypnotherapy.

I went to see Barry the hypnotherapist today. I didn’t expect too much and I told Barry when he asked me what I wanted out of that today’s session that if I could experience five to ten minutes in a relaxed state I would consider it money well spent.

I walked out of there after one and a half hour singing to myself, feeling only a little tiny bit anxious and a little sad – as opposed to profoundly sad – and I’m pleased with the result today. I hope it will last.

I’m going to have another two session with Barry the hypnotherapist and I will keep you posted on how it goes. So far so good though, so far so good.


Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Classy stuff

In an ever shrinking world the chasm that seperates us is still rather wide it appears. Today's Daily Telegraph shared this little gem: Hitler menswear store upsets Jewish community

If you're not prone to clicking on links to get the whole story I'm leaving you with this:

In India - Men's wear shop

So, the owner of the shop was apparently shocked when he learned what the name Hitler coupled with the swastika really meant - he's changing the name of the shop!

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

We don't need more Tom Cruise

Today I'm at odds with cults.

Yesterday I was at odds with the self-help industry because sometimes it''s not so helpful to try to help yourself. Today I'm pointing out that getting help is also something you have to be careful of.

You all know of my "fondness" for Scientology, I say in my absolute best sarcastic tone so that you, my dear reader, will be left with no doubt that I despise it. In fact, and to be fair, I despise most cults, or perhaps even all since I've not found a single I would call useful.

The reason for why cults come to the forefront in my rather muddled and messy mind today is that I was reading a post on Facebook by my "favorite" (again, with the sarcasm...) shaman.

I used to study with this woman, and I place it in the category of trying to self-help, and I did so for two years so I do know her quite well, in the internet sense anyway. She "friended" me on Facebook and at the time I saw no harm in having her own especially since I don't find Facebook all the useful (and the main reason I got an account to NOT use was to shut my silly ex-husband up because it gave him the illusion that he could keep track of me and what I was doing). As time passes I can't help to notice that her messages are kind of getting on my nerves because they basically confirm that silly little suspicion I had that she was trying to gain followers (and I'm not talking in the Facebook sense here).

It was when this woman managed to persuade a "follower" to buy her a plot of land in Missouri to set up a healing center that I jumped off the bandwagon. When it was followed by an outburst via e-mail in which she accused us all of working against her by not believing in her cause and therefore making sure it wasn't manifesting, well it was then that I slowly backed away without turning my back on her.

I watch now as her following keeps growing and how "students" of hers hang on every word she types on Facebook. She comes up with the most spectacular spiritual dribble and all this is met with adoration and much grovelling. I sound like I'm jealous, after all I barely get a like for my sporadic Facebook posts, but I'm not. I am worried.

Today she spoke of her own death experience, including seeing the light and all, and meeting Jesus and Mother Mary. (Is it just me or are we practicing a very eclectic kind of shamanism here...?)

It was all very Sylvia Browne until she started talking about how her husband had hated her, how she knew for sure and she really then knew how much he'd wanted to hurt her.

Now, I don't want to poo poo anybody's experience but if you're going to talk near death experiences, the light, meeting your death relatives and that fantastical feeling you apparently get as you die, well then I don't think, I just don't think, that you would be feeling someone's hatred. I say this because that sounds like something you would think as a result of having been mistreated.

It bothers me that people like this get a following and it bothers me that religion and spirituality pretty much get a home free card to say and do whatever the hell. Get a bunch of people saying they people something in the name of religion and it's suddenly a lot more legit.

There are a lot of people out the professing to be awfully spiritual and asking people to listen to them for the right path. If all of them say they're Jesus, surely some of them must be wrong.

I'm just saying.

Monday, August 27, 2012

We don’t need another hero

Today I’m at odds with the self-help industry.

I’m a former self-help junkie. There was a time when all that occupied my bookshelves was one self-help book after another. As much as I can say that it at times helped me enormously trying to help myself - it sure beats apathy – and that I did learn a lot about myself and how to help myself I also wonder about the wisdom of taking some strangers “word for it” just because they managed to get a book published.

If you have not seen yet seen through the rather transparent workings of marketing and how it influences your day to day life you probably need to start taking notice. You’re at the mercy of marketing people in your daily life and they dictate your life in so many way. These people don’t know you, they don’t have a vested interest in you; they’re interest lies in making money for the company they work for so that they can in turn make more money themselves. I have no problem saying that marketing is probably one of the most evil and detrimental things ever conceived on this planet.

I think a lot of the time when you buy into the self-help merry go round you but into hope. While that can be a very important part of getting you through a difficult time in your life it doesn’t beat having support from other people. This idea that you can cure yourself is a tad bogus.

I’m not saying that you can’t. I’m saying that you should seek help when you have a problem. This whole isolating process we have adopted is rather insane and I don’t think it promotes wellbeing. We need, possibly more than anything else, to belong to a group, a unit, where we feel cared about where we feel safe and where we feel part of something. Humans are not solitary creatures.

Too many people I know try to be their own hero and while it’s admirable they also fail a lot. They end up being more worn out than they ever were before and they muddle through a process that would be quicker and easier if they had help.

It’s not easy to get the help you need. The barriers can be great and sometimes it’s just pure luck that you end up stumbling on a person who can actually help you. Trying to convince your doctor that you need help is sometimes hard because your doctor nowadays doesn’t know you as well as doctors used to know their patients. Navigating medications, treatment options and advice is not easy especially since you doctor now has to leave it up to you to choose what treatment option to accept. They can suggest a range of options but ultimately it’s up to you. You’re not qualified to make those decisions and you may not even be in a state of mind where you should.

Self-help is in my opinion something that you should digest before you get into something deep, dark and depressing in life. Trying to fight major depression with affirmations (and several authors tell you it can be done) is like spitting on a house fire hoping it will do the trick.

There’s no regulating body for self-help books and yet I feel there should be. If mental health is a health problem then why aren’t at least some parts of the self-help industry scrutinized and vetted? I know it sounds like I’m advocating something that isn’t free speech but I’m not. I just think that some of these books should come with warning labels.

What I’m really trying to say, or the point I’m trying to get to, is that you should never try to be your own hero when you suffer from certain conditions. Anxiety and depression require treatment and help. If you refuse those options then you’re at risk of causing yourself and others a lot more suffering than that’s needed. There are things you really need to seek and accept help with.

Speaking from experience. I’m just saying.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Sporadic, at best

If I wasn't so lazy right now I would show you what I've been up to but I just can't be bother. It's not that I don't care about what I share with you, it's just that it seems such an enormous task to dig out my camera, toddle out in the garden, take photos, downloading them from the camera and then uploading them here. All that just to justify my absence and silence. I have two words for you instead: Mosaic Tiles. Adorning backyard.

Apart from producing and eclectic bunch of mosaic tiles for my garden I'm also busily crocheting beanies. If you have ever grown your hair from short to long you will sympathize with my need to cover it with something pretty. Growing your hair is not an acceptable excuse for not having a hairstyle but wearing a home made beanie is. So there!

I've been thinking a lot lately and it's mostly brought on by my new favorite hobby: Listening to Human Behavior Biology lectures from Stanford. I have learned a lot about human behavior (and all this while I'm at work doing my thing) and I'm only on lecture five! There's no doubt a whole term of lectures, or more, to look forward to and by the end of it I will know what makes you tick. All of you. You and you and you and you! I will however reserve the right to remain completely confused about myself.

For the first time in like ages, right, I'm not anxious. My anxiety only comes about when I'm forced into a room with a bunch of faking adults and I have to force my urge to talk in silly voices just to make it fun for me down to my toes. Not having to deal with my anxiety all the time leaves me free to deal with my depression and it now seems to me that my depression lacks some of its previous power. I'm getting there I think.

The only thing that really gets on my nerves right now is that I just can't seem to find anything really to write about here even though my head is full of what I think is really interesting stuff. The problem seems to be me thinking that I would be the only one to be interested in that stuff and I really have no wish to bore the pants off the few readers I have here. I suppose my posting will be sporadic, at best.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012


It's a kind of weird thing this friendship thing.

When you 're a child/teenager you forge friendships that sometimes last for life. When you skip the country like I did, you lose those connection to a great extent.

As you get older your new friends may be work colleagues, parents of kids your kid knows and your neighbours. You don't have the same time to make friends with likeminded people who perhaps are are in line with yur interests as you are.

The question is, especially if you divorce and you end up splitting  your common friends as a result of your relationship breakdown, how you go about making good friends for life later in life. It can actually eb quite hard.

Friday, August 17, 2012

I'm not the worst blogger ever but I'm getting there, but I'm a thousand times stronger

I've been working too much. I've been so busy at work that I have no words left for blogging and it's making me a little sad. It's not that nothing's happened or that I have nothing to say; I just run out of words and brain power which means I can swing anything together for anything even remotely looking like a blog post.

And, I'm a bloody great whinger. I know. That's what happens to depressed people. :P

Seriously though, I have had a lot of things to tell you about but I've just not been able to summon up the energy to even begin talking about it. Things have happened in my life that in themselves were not big events but they had a massive impact on how I feel about myself.

You know when you have one of those moments when someone who used to tell you you were useless and/or stupid ends up in a far less fortunate situation than you, and you triumphantly think to yourself "Ha! Who's useless now? Who's stupid now?", you know when that happens? That just happened to me.

My first husband is a charming man on the surface but under the pleasant veneer lurks a psychopath. Not a psychopath in the serial killer sense but in the con-man sense, but in the "can't help but committing illegal acts but never ever admit it's my own fault" sense.

He used to be a prison officer and a policeman. It was a "where are they now" moment of giantic proportions when I found out he's facing a possibility of serving 13 years in an American prison. Why? Because a few years ago he got drunk and ran his car into a car with a family in it. He was given four years for. He was given a chance after a year to take training and three years probation which he apparently blew a few months ago by getting stoned and serving a minor alcohol at his house.

I'm not gloating, no really I'm not, but there is something sweet in the knowledge I have now that it wasn't me, it was him. It wasn't because I was dumb, incompetent or anything else that he had to scream at me, push me up against walls with his hands around my throat or punch holes in walls just beside my head only to tell me I was lucky he's a nice guy or it would have been my I've finally really allowed myself to realize that it wasn't my fault, it was who he was. It was him! It wasn't me!

I spent a total of a half day in utter amazement when I found out trying to figure out what drew me to this man and what made me marry him. I spent the other half of the day thinking about how low a price I had set on myself to sell out to something like that. I spent the night resting peacefully in the knowledge that I would never ever allow it to happen to me again because now I value myself infinitely more. Infinitely more.

I grew up. Suddenly in the space of 24 hours I grew up. I realized I'm a thousand times stronger and I'm a million times more valuable. The next day I rocked my Dr Martens with a short skirt and funky stockings at work. Because I could. I can wear whatever the hell I want. Despite anxiety and depression I felt on top of the world because I had won the battle of the monster created years ago and that I have fought for so long.

I'm not quite at the point where I will say that the breakdown was the best thing that happened to me. I'm at the point where I can say that I have learned so much about myself since the breakdown and I have healed so many wounds. And, I'll say it again:


Thursday, August 2, 2012

need to blog more :P

it's pathetic, not quite as pathetic as the fact that i haven't secured a new keyboard for myself yet, one that has a working shift key, but it's still pathetic that i have left it for a week to post here. i'm a bad blogger. what can i say?

i don't have much to tell you though, oh except for some advice i have for you. don't ever join a group on facebook that deals with anxiety if you're actually suffering from it. it just gives you new ideas about how to panic because you suddenly realizing you're not even close to covering all basis when it comes to worrying anxiously.

i can report though that my depression seems to have become better.,,..or rather i'm better and my depression is not as bad.  it's one of those things you desperately cling to the hope that it will stay that way and when you have some sort of "dip" it makes you nervous because you enjoy when the darkness lifts a bit. well, it seems that it's holding well this time so i will do a little celebratory dance, right here and now. there. done.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

In which I whine about Stephanie Meyer's writing - again!

I tried to write about my morning yesterday but not like the way I would have. I tried to write about in the Stephanie Meyer’s (Twilight) kind of way because it intrigues me, it intrigues me how someone can write like that. However, I decided not to bore you with it. Four long paragraphs and I hadn’t even been able to get out of bed. I’m the kind of woman who needs her coffee pronto in the morning. I decided it was too torturous for me to have to wait so long for my hit, even if it was just in my little musings, just because I had decided to make use of superfluous adjectives and unnecessary prose. I think I saved us both from pain.

I’m not a fan of the Twilight books. Actually they make me wretch. There are other things that apparently make me wretch. There’s a company that sells books at work. They leave a new bunch every week and you can order them for about half the price we pay here in Australia, in other words they sell their books at American prizes.

Yesterday I was waiting for someone and I took a look at the latest on offer and what did I find if not the much raved about Fifty Shades of Grey. I have heard much but I have never seen before. I picked it up and started to lazily and longingly flick through the thick yet light paperback casting my eager gleaming eyes over the pages, hungrily taking in the small black print that adorned every page.

I’m sorry. It’s rubbish. It’s the same mindless, excessive description crap one sees in Twilight. Maybe that’s my reaction because I happened to land on a page that had a conversation between a very submissive woman and some sort of alpha male. Oh, how droll.

When are we going to get some real heroines?! When is someone going to write something decent with a kick ass gal in it, a girl like tank girl?! I loved tank girl! Tank girl was cool.

I need to avoid that kind of “literature”. It makes me feel odd.

I’m just saying.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Are you suffering from mental health?

The Daily Telegraph had decent article, Rachel Griffiths on gun control and mental-health in light of the Colorado massacre, in which Rachel talks about the need not only to concentrate on gun control but also rather on issues in relation to mental health. I agree. Unfortunately the whole article ended with this helpful advice:

"If you, or someone you know suffers from mental health contact Lifeline 13 11 14, beyondblue 1300 22 46 36, or Salvo Care Line 1300 36 36 22."

I would like to meet someone who suffers from mental health. They would be almost the opposite of me.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

ridiculum amor

there's nothing like wasting a whole day having a panic attack only to wake up the next morning feeling like a pig shat in your head. i used to have to consume vast amounts of alcohol to feel that way but now it seems i can do it on the cheap.

it's not been an easy week and i hate that because i just can't seem to get my act together so i can write. i miss writing. i miss writing here.

we have to try to concentrate on the good stuff, or so they tell us anyway, so i'm happy to report that my social anxiety is lower than it has ever been. maybe it just seems that way because my other anxiety is so massive at times. either way, i declare it a win over social anxiety because i like to win every now and then. not in the charlie sheen way but nonetheless win.

if you think i'm talking nonsense you are perfectly correct.

i have started a new blog. it's exactly what one should do when one doesn't have time to write, don't you think? it's called ridiculum amor.

it's in its infancy but on it you will find less than perfect examples of people trying to communicate in order to find a mate. and, some really scary ones, creepy and really weird. it's classed as adult as it contains some juicy terms so if that sort of thing offends you then don't check it out. if you don't mind looking at that stuff and having a snicker at other people's feeble attempts to communicate you may find it entertaining. most of all if you are looking for a mate yourself, be it for a long term or a casual encounter, you may get some ideas of what not to say. i'm just trying to be helpful by creating this educational site because i believe in love. i'm just saying.

Monday, July 16, 2012

Today I give you Recycling Cuteness

I don't like plugging things really but this will become a plug of sorts simply because it's too cute to leave alone.

I like to buy my shoes online from a company called Style Tread. Not only do they deliver next day, shipping is very reasonable and you can return the shoes after something like 90 days (unused of course) and still get your money back.

They send you the shoes in a big box which not only contains your brand new shoes but also this (excuse the quality):

Recycling doesn't only have to mean putting things in the correct bin, now does it?

Sunday, July 15, 2012

today i give you my FEET

 don't ask me why...


i wish i could say that i've been thinking but nothing could be further from the truth. i feel OK. i'm doing OK. i'm still having trouble anxiety.

i decided to try to tackle it in a different way because xanax is not the answer. xanax is far from the answer. i decided that i perhaps should ride out an attack just to see what it's like before i considered reaching for the pills.

the attack came on friday morning when i was beginning the ride to work. i figured, possibly quite rightly, that it was not a bad time to try to get through it without the meds. first and foremost, i was not alone. secondly i had xanax in my bag should it get worse. thirdly we were early. fourthly i reasoned that since i was riding there was a good chance that physical exhaustion from the ride would help it to dissipate. it worked.

however, what i have noticed about anxiety attacks is that once they "want to" hit they will. in others words i can hold them off for a few days now but then they sneakily creep up on me and make me feel like my heart's going to jump out of my chest for no reason. today i ended up taking half a xanax.

so what have i learned?

i have learned that i'm at least at the stage where i can postpone the attacks. i reason that this is a step in the right direction.

since i now know that i can hold them off perhaps i can actually start preventing them. it's hard to tell what brings them on, they seem to hit after stress when i start to relax again. so perhaps it's now vital that i come down from stress in a completely different way than i usually do.

it's an experiment you know. i have fears about getting addicted to xanax because it's probably the last thing i'd want to happen. maybe it will work or maybe i will have to think of a new strategy.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

self confidence or rather the lack thereof

there comes a time (when i realize i really do need to get a new keyboard because being without a left shift key sucks and) I have to ask myself why i'm on antidepressants.

i have to. ask myself. that.

it's not that i feel so much better now that i am beginning to suspect i don't need them anymore. it's more a case of that i don't feel good enough to warrant me taking them. i need another solution and i would prefer that it not be trying another antidepressant.

i prefer to get better.

i prefer to stop being anxious.

i prefer to stop doubting myself and somehow get a massive injection of self confidence.

i prefer to come to some sort of conclusion as to what my self value is so that i don't have to keep asking him if he loves me.

the problem with me is that i spent a good portion of my adult life being told that i was this, that and the other. before that i was a teenager and i was told that i was this, that and the other. i'm simply not equipped to tell myself that i am this, that or the other. i have to have someone else do this for me or i get hella confused.

i could pay someone, or i could develop the ability to create a value for myself. i happen to think that's the answer to my depression and anxiety.

now if one of you could please give me the recipe. i need to cook me up some of that.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

A very quick ending - TomKat

I don’t know how Katie Holmes pulled it off but I think I’m impressed. In only 11 days she managed to apparently secure what she wanted in her divorce, and in doing so saving Suri from being brought up as a Scientologist. None of the things the media predicted happened. It all got sorted very quickly.

The whole thing, to me anyway, seems likely to have been a planned cult extraction and I’m willing to bet money on that it was. From the reported use of a disposable mobile phone “supplied by a friend” to the fact that all her security staff was immediately dismissed and replaced, it seems a very well thought out plan. It is alleged that Katie’s father Martin Holmes was involved in the planning, and if I was him, the first people I would have contacted are people involved in cult extraction.

I don’t like picking on people’s beliefs especially religious beliefs. I don’t really feel I have the right to. However, I think it is common knowledge that Scientology actively discourages its members from having contact with ex-members whom are referred to as subversives. They isolate members from non-member family, and they actively limit interaction with others. In the case of celebrities it is alleged that they are treated very nice indeed and that they are “love bombed”. In other words they need celebrities to further their cause. To me that certainly seems like cult behaviour.

It seems to me that to get someone like Tom Cruise to back down you would need to have something very powerful to use as an incentive. There has got to be something that either Tom or the Church of Scientology don’t want the public to know. I, of course, would love to know what.

I’m just saying.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012


I suffer more and more from a lack of having time to write. If I really put my mind to it I could probably find the time but the problem is that it manifests itself as a feeling of not being able to write myself out of a paper bag. Not that I really wish to do that but it is still frustrating.

What I really wish to accomplish is the occasional sentence of such quality and class that the reader goes “Urp!” when ingesting it with their hungry eyes. (“Urp!” being the highest accolade a writer can possibly get.)

It bothers me that I have that mindset because if you look at what sells nowadays you realize that you really have to dumb yourself down and start writing nonsense.

I often wonder what the Twilight books would be like if Dostoyevsky or Kafka, or even James Joyce or Jane Austin for goodness sake, had written them. As they are now they’re full of cliché language, word repetition and characterizations that lack to say the least. But, the stuff sells.

This is clearly what keeps me being a technical writer. I sit here and toil and worry about sentence structure, layouts, and flow in a document and so on, and I’m only writing manuals for Christ’s sake! I can’t even write a blog post nowadays without worrying about that stuff. There used to be a time when I just spewed out stuff in my blog and when I couldn’t care less about what it looked like, sounded like or even if it made sense. I miss those days.

I have become a snob when it comes to my own writing and I’m not sure it is a good thing at all. It is like I am learning a new language and as a result I stubbornly refuse to use my mother tongue.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

More Tomkat foolery

I’m not done with this one yet, obviously. I just can’t keep away from it. It’s like in those parks where there’s a sign saying “keep off the grass” and you just have to step on the grass because…

As I was trawling my way through TomKat news yesterday I came across something (do not ask me which paper it was but it must have something reputable like the National Enquirer) in which they were asking people on the street outside the building where Katie now lives, how they felt about the whole thing. There were a lot of girls saying that Katie should have known better because she knew that Tom was a Scientologist.

Yeah. OK.

I will have to weigh in on this debate though; you know I just have to. As much as Katie should have known better shouldn’t Tom also respect the wishes of his W O M A N and the M O T H E R of his child? Being a religious fanatic doesn’t automatically absolve you from responsibility now, does it? Being a religious fanatic doesn’t mean you don’t have to civil now, does it?

I think there’s a little too much room given to people when it comes to their religious beliefs. Religion is the holy cow. Religion is the untouchable elephant in the room. The problem is that there are a lot of different religions and if I recall correctly Ms Holmes is of some sort of Christian extraction. Does that not count just as much? Shouldn’t Tom have known better?

I’m just asking.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

More TomKat-crack talk

I can’t leave it alone. It’s like crack to me. I’m like a crack whore who’s just had a long stint in forced rehab. Add to that the fact that my motherly instincts kicked in as soon as I heard Katie was dating Tommy and you have something that’s completely addictively irresistible happening right now.

I’ve scanned the internet and there’s clearly not enough information available to satisfy my habit, or to quench my thirst. I need to see pictures of Katie crying on Nicole Kidman’s shoulder and “Niccers” (as I like to call her) holding Katie in her arms like she was her own lost daughter.

And, I need to see pictures of Suri in a pair of Birkenstock sandals. No more high heels for you kiddo!

I will admit that (perhaps) Tommy has talent. If I have a weak moment or I’m really tired and you’re badgering me so I’ll say it just to shut you up so I can sleep. Much like when my darling daughter decides to wake me in the middle of the night to tell me she thinks that she’s turning into a psychopath simply because she scratched off a scab on her scalp making herself bleed. Much like that.

But you see at the heart of this absolute unhealthy obsession I’ve had with the whole TomKat thing is my abnormally large suspicion of Scientology and the sheer fact that it’s allowed to masquerade as a religion. If you don’t believe things are crazy in their quarters you need search Youtube for an official Scientology video showing Tommy as he is awarded for being the new Jesus-Ron-Messiah-thing and you will, like I did, come to know the more crazy side of Tommy.

I’m on team Katie in case you didn’t get it already.

I’m just saying.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Thankfully, we can stop worrying about Katie Holmes

Thankfully, we can now all stop worrying about Katie Holmes because she has apparently seen the light and filed for divorce from Tom Cruise.

I was most relieved because ever since the day I spotted in the newspaper that she had shacked up with Tommy, I've suffered from a massive urge to put together some sort of crack SWAT team to rescue the poor girl. I think any decent person did.

It's fortunate for Katie that she's constantly stalked by papparazzi because they can at leat keep an eye on the other stalkers she will have following her every move. The Scientologist don't like people leaving the fold and as such she will have them following her around everywhere. Hopefully we will see plenty of snap shots of what that bunch is really like.

There are times when I feel like my soul is bursting at the seams

There are times when I feel like my soul is bursting at the seams. It’s as if my being is not large enough for it anymore and it’s threatening to break free. I’m left to wonder what would happen if it did. Would I lose my sanity or burst into sudden splendid bloom?

I was lying in my bed Friday night in state somewhere between sleep and consciousness. My consciousness was a seamless stream of images and I had the feeling I was walking through life much like one walks down a street. The images began to blur as though someone had decided to apply Gaussian blur to them and they slowly became so blurry that one color formed from them and it became a lone star in a night sky.

I lay there and stared at the light star, and I pondered the absence of the usual pattern the inside of my eyelids provide me with. It was so utterly calm and I came to realize that nothing else mattered. All the things my mind chooses to occupies itself with normally had ceased to exist and lost all importance.

I was. I just was.

The feeling lingers and it grows. The anxiety and restlessness has competition now and it’s beginning to lose its grip on me.

There are times when I feel like my soul is bursting at the seams.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

mutato amor

today i'm opening the new blog, mutato amor, but there's not much there for you to read yet.

as i said before, please don't venture there if you're easily offended or if you have a conservative view of how relationships should be. we're better off being friend just here if that's the case.

mutato amor is there to help me work through something that is a rather big issue in my life right and that has colored a relationship in not so pretty colors at times. it's my hope that it will help me, and perhaps even others, to blog about it.

Friday, June 22, 2012


I did get chicken noodle frittata and because I'm at work I have capitals. (I should not blog at work - I'm a bad girl).

There are so many things I wish I had the time to tell you about. There's a lot happening in my life right now. It's like the solstice decided to drag so much energy with it that it caused a storm in my life. It's not all bad, in fact most of it is probably positive but it makes me restless and anxious.

I'm also beginning "the other blog". I will hopefully have time to start it this weekend but please remember that you need to keep your mind open if you go there, and probably your heart to. Personally I would appreciate all the support I can get.

I'm just saying.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Teaching a young dog to sit

after my last post my shift key actually decided to kill itself, or perhaps it just died a natural death. for now we have to do without capitals, until i get new ones. mmmmkay?

my daughter likes to have a hot meal when she gets home, who doesn't?, but truth be known sometimes we're just too tired. besides, the whole thing we have going with the sourdough rye, smoked salmon, pickles cheese, avocado and assorted other is a good thing. there's something satisfying about building your own sandwich to your particular preference on a particular day.

we decided to have her cook tonight. she's not happy. i'm more amused than i should be. i find it hard not to laugh. soon i hope to be eating a chicken noodle frittata. failing that we'll have sandwiches. again.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

in which i realize - yet again - that time flies

i've not blogged for a week.

i refuse to use capitals today.

i refuse to use capitals not because my shift key is broken or because i'm being lazy. i refuse to use capitals today because life has humbled me to such an extent there's very little shout left in me.

it's a silly reason i realize that but it will have to do for today because it is the best i can do for the moment.

i'm playing with the idea of starting a new blog, a blog that would have to be a separate story to this one because it will offend, it will scare and it will certainly talk about things that most of us are not comfortable talking about. i'm not comfortable talking about them either but i have come to the conclusion that the only way i can work my way through what is happening right now is to write about it.

it is about love.

it is about lies.

it is about opening your heart, swallowing your pride and hoping that there's ultimately something good at the end of it all.

it's about changing everything i believe in, everything that most of us believe in, in an attempt to save something i value.

it will be hard.

it will be the most painful task to blog about how i truly feel.

you do not have to come with me to that blog when i start writing it, in fact some of you would prefer not to, some of you may even chose to stop reading this blog altogether. it is my hope though that you will keep your mind open enough to see that it is a blog about love and the way we view relationships.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

In which I realize that time flies

I've been battling with the idea of calling my parents for the past few weeks. I've not got a good relationship with them.

I left Sweden in 1989 and have lived half my life in Australia. I've only been home once. It took me 14 years to return and when I did I felt apprehensive about it.

Don't get me wrong, I loved going back but I also had it reaffirmed to me that I truly feel like I've never been part of the family. It's not because of anything they do and I know that my brother oddly enough feels the same.

Today I received some photos from my nephew's graduation and among them were photos of my parents and my brother. I was shocked. My parents seemed to have suddenly aged 30 years in the space of five.

So again, I feel a sense of urgency and certainly guilt.

I don't know if it makes me a bad person not to want to got back and see them. I feel an obligation too but I can't see any real good coming of it if I do.

On one hand I feel like such a coward for not wanting to go back but then on the other the psychologist's words echo in my head: "Do you think you should need to be the only one to maintain the relationship and who feels responsible for it? Are they not your parents?"

 Right now I don't know. I just don't know.

I do know though that I don't have a lot of time left in which I can stand face to face with my parents again.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Cruise v Manson

Whenever I'm doing something completely inane at work I turn to Youtube to have some noise in my earphones. It helps stop thinking too much which I feel is a bonus when you suffer from depression.

So, Friday I managed to see my way through a Scientology video that was made when they honored Tom Cruise with an award for being like a god, and for being the awesomest Scientologist in the whole Scientology history, making him almost as awesome as L. Ron Hubbard himself.

After that I sat through an interview with Charles Manson.

I have to stop here and say that yes, I do wonder why I watched this kind of crap!

Anyway, it struck me that the only real difference between those two, except for the facade, is that Manson asks "Dig it?" after every statement because he knows he's insane and therefor hard to follow. Cruise just talks. And laughs insanely. Maybe the laugh is like Manson's "dig it". I don't know.

Few people scare me. Tom Cruise does though. Whenever I see him I begin to suffer from an overwhelming urge to rescue Katie Holmes.

Dig it?

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Saturday morning

There is a birthday in the house and we started the days with preparing an Osso Bucco in the slow cooker for tomorrow, a pea soup that will be slowly consumed through the week and a Princess cake (a Swedish cake - my favorite which I have never tried to make before).

It felt so great.

We were moving around the tiny kitchen like a well experienced team cutting up vegetables, searing meat and mixing batter for the cake. These are times when I feel content.

There's something so satisfying with taking the time to create a meal that you can enjoy in the following days. Flavors are allowed to develop and you can sit down to a hot meal when you come home from work on weekdays without having to do some sort of hurried cooking action. I love it.

All this is happening now in my house and I feel good about it.

Friday, June 1, 2012

Early morning thought, err, things in my head

It's too early in the morning. It's too early to think poetically. It's even too early to determine how I feel. It's not too early for coffee.

I love my coffee. If there's one thing I don't fancy ever giving up it's coffee. I'd probably give up sex before I'd give up coffee.

I had my first full cup when I was seven years old. No sugar. No milk. I was hooked and that's how I drunk my coffee up until I was 22 years old and husband no. 1 nagged me into putting milk into it. Nowadays I favor a cappuccino in the morning, or several in fact. I even froth milk at work. I've had to cut down on the caffeine though because of stupid depression.

I don't think my love affair with coffee will ever end.

I'm stalling.

I'm performance managing my senior writer and we have our first weekly meeting today with HR to see how he's done this week. It's not looking good. A three page document full of passive voice sentences, product names that are bastardized versions of what Marketing dictates we use and formatting that is nothing like the one in our style guide.

I feel despair. I feel like this performance management is a foregone conclusion. It's making me feel shittier than normal. I could never be an an executioner. I would have to constantly apologize to those I'm executing and I would constantly wonder if I was doing the right thing, if the punishment fitted the crime and if there hadn't perhaps been a miscarriage of justice.

This is obviously why I'm a technical writer and I do a job in which I can carefully craft document with the user in mind in the vain hope that someone will actually refer to the manual. It happens. I'm sure of it. It has to. Please tell me it does!

Do you ever read the manuals for things you buy?

Wednesday, May 30, 2012


Isn’t the most important thing we can do in life to tell stories, to tell our own life stories?

I think so.

I think we all should to tell our story if for no other reason to show others that they’re not alone.

Tell your story. I would love to hear it.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Most people think that depression means that you're sad

Most people think that depression means that you're sad. They think that depression is just when you feel down.

It's not.

Depression is darkness that creeps up on you and fills you. It drains your energy and it numbs your emotions. It takes everything from you and leaves you with nothing so all that you are is hollow and numb.

Depression isn't sadness. It's not anger. It's hopelessness so vast that you cannot imagine there being an end to it. It's the void that is the complete absence of hope.

Imagine waking up and there being no color. 

Imagine going outside and there being no sun or wind. 

Imagine eating a meal and tasting nothing.

Imagine being held and feeling completely alone at the same time.

When you're depressed you're not in a bad mood. When you're depressed you're numb, empty and hollow and it seems that nothing can change that. When you're depressed you can be in a room full of people and still feel lonely. When you're depressed there's simply no hope.

The trick is to dare to believe that one day there will be hope again and that you won't be numb, empty or hollow anymore. The trick is to know that you're strong enough to survive it. You don't need anyone to save you, no one can, you just need people around you that support you while you save yourself.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

I had no thoughts yesterday but apparently I've had 101 thoughts previously.

And. I did tell you I was going to break my promise to blog every day. I need to try to do it though because it's important for my head health.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

My weekly breakdowns

It's becoming habitual. I hold it together beautifully through the week but I have to do at least one mini breakdown every weekend. It's like I steal myself to get through the week only so I can break down in tears and allow myself to feel completely useless and hopeless sometime on the weekend. I actually say things like "I don't want to live any more."

I feel like that at the time but I really don't feel like that most of the time. I suppose I have to be grateful that I now limit these things to once a week instead of feeling like that all the time. I have to say though that I would much prefer not feeling like that at all. It gets kind of old.

Oddly enough I actually like me right now, I know it's a complete contradiction, but I really do. I try to hold onto that when I can and when the breakdowns occur, but I have realized that I (apparently) have to do this little dance with utter despair occasionally, that it's a little like venting. OK then I tell myself, I will vent.

I'm looking forward to better days but you have to roll with the punches as they say. It just doesn't make sense fighting what happens naturally.

I'm just saying.

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