It's hard to answer that question. It always has been hard, but it's harder to answer in a blog where potentially anyone iin the world could see the answer.
I feel very sad right now. Like my eyes are full of tears. I did cry a lot at my therapy appt. today. Sometimes things are just so painful. I feel like I'm full of pain that has to come out somehow but I'm so repressed that it won;t come.
I also feel full of rage. I feel like a boil about to pop or like the Yellowstone Super Volcano (due to erupt any time now, and the circle of destruction reaches somewhere down into New Mexico--bet you didn;t know that!) And this frightens me. Sometimes I have very destructive thoughts, sometimes self destructive. I don;t feel depressed, really. Except at night when I realise I've wasted away another day because nothing is interesting to me and the things that might be interesting I can't concentrate on for more than five minutes at a time. I've given up even trying to read, that's how bad it is. I may have written this same blog before for all I know; that's how bad my memory has become.
It frightens me all the more because I see my P-sychiatrist next week and I'm afraid if I tell him these things he will shut me away. ANd the worst thing, is, that doesn't sound too bad right now. If you've read the chapters of Locked on my web page, you'll get an idea just how bad I'm feeling just from that. It doesn't sound too bad to be shut away in a place that's safe, where they might do some testing on me and actually tell me what's going on in words that I can understand. I mean, Bipolar. What the hell does that mean about my feelings? PTSD? the same. I want to know...other things. I want test scores dammit. I was never good in classes that didn't have grades.
Talking to my therapist today, she told me that there is only one hospital in 3 counties that even HAS a Psych ward (I knew this) and that it doesn't matter how bad you are they only keep you for 72 hours (I didn;t know this). So actually I don;t think hospitalisation is a good option under those conditions. I mean, let a person loose just as she's getting into her process? I DON'T think so. So no, I;m not going to be hospitalised,
Sometimes I wish for it though.
I remember this feeling from high school: feeling like I was going to explode and wanting to be safe. Wanting other people to look out for me. Is that so bad a thing to want? All my upbringing says it is; I have to be able to take care of myself always. But the strain of that right now is so heavy. I feel...ruptured, Herniated. Like bits of myself are poking through and I'm afraid, so afraid all the time.
I;m not finished but this blog is done for the moment.
At least I have the kittens for comfort.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Monday, October 8, 2007
The Cute Report
Not easy to write a blog with a lapful of kittens, but I'm going to try...
As the days pass, their personalities come out. At first I thought, Oh my gods, how are we ever goign to tell the boys apart?" But by the end of the first day I could see little variations. Onyx's coat is slightly longer and not quite so shiny. Obsidian's eyes are a little closer together. Things like that.
Now I'm seeing bigger differences. Obsidian is a bit shier, but he also seems to be the "spokeskitten" when it comes to dealing with the older cats. He also is the mighty hunter. He caught his first spider last night and recently discovered the rabbit fur mousie, which he has now thoroughly destroyed. In many activities he is the leader but in socializing he takes his time.
Onyx, I;m afraid to say, seems a little slow. He gets lost in the litterbox and squeals until someone comes to find him. He follows Obi's lead a lot, but is more social initially. He also is fascinated by computers. If he can, he'll sit between the keyboard and the monitor and watch what's happening on the screen. He has been known to delete or add entire forum posts by walking on the keyboards.
Both the boys have little, squeaky voices. In fact, Obi is already master of the Silent Meow. Not so Elvira. For a tiny cat she has a remarkably deep alto mew. She bosses the boys around a lot but often can't be bothered. She likes me best :D. Currently while the boys continue to destroy the fur mousie, she is asleep in my lap.
The older cats still don;t know what to make of this. Luna seems to be adjusting best so far. Day by day she lets the little ones get closer and closer to her. Today she actually looked interested in their play when they were near her. But then when they got too close and invaded what she considers her personal space, she had to go outside for a while.
Dacs is hiding in the linen closet.
GB is out. I think he feels as long as he doesn;t have to see them he can forgive my husband and me for bringing them home but he'll take a long time to accept the situation.
Must go now....kittens needs me!
As the days pass, their personalities come out. At first I thought, Oh my gods, how are we ever goign to tell the boys apart?" But by the end of the first day I could see little variations. Onyx's coat is slightly longer and not quite so shiny. Obsidian's eyes are a little closer together. Things like that.
Now I'm seeing bigger differences. Obsidian is a bit shier, but he also seems to be the "spokeskitten" when it comes to dealing with the older cats. He also is the mighty hunter. He caught his first spider last night and recently discovered the rabbit fur mousie, which he has now thoroughly destroyed. In many activities he is the leader but in socializing he takes his time.
Onyx, I;m afraid to say, seems a little slow. He gets lost in the litterbox and squeals until someone comes to find him. He follows Obi's lead a lot, but is more social initially. He also is fascinated by computers. If he can, he'll sit between the keyboard and the monitor and watch what's happening on the screen. He has been known to delete or add entire forum posts by walking on the keyboards.
Both the boys have little, squeaky voices. In fact, Obi is already master of the Silent Meow. Not so Elvira. For a tiny cat she has a remarkably deep alto mew. She bosses the boys around a lot but often can't be bothered. She likes me best :D. Currently while the boys continue to destroy the fur mousie, she is asleep in my lap.
The older cats still don;t know what to make of this. Luna seems to be adjusting best so far. Day by day she lets the little ones get closer and closer to her. Today she actually looked interested in their play when they were near her. But then when they got too close and invaded what she considers her personal space, she had to go outside for a while.
Dacs is hiding in the linen closet.
GB is out. I think he feels as long as he doesn;t have to see them he can forgive my husband and me for bringing them home but he'll take a long time to accept the situation.
Must go now....kittens needs me!
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Kitten Therapy
The last few weeks--okay, months--have been really rough for me. In addition, I've been having a really bad spout of kitten hunger. You know, like some women get baby hunger or grandmother hunger? I get kitten hunger. It was time for more kittens in the house. The problem was, although a lot of my internet friends were finding kittens and infact had houses overflowing with kittens, no kittens were coming my way.
Until the other day. Thursday, I think it was.
One of these Internet friends on the My Cat Hates You board located a pair of twin black kittens at a foster home only two hours from where I live. We called the fosterer and made arrangements to go "see" them Saturday, but I already knew we'd be coming home with them--if the fosterer approved, which it seemed over the phone that she would.
What I didn't bargain for was falling in love. Not with the Purr Boys, as the two black brothers were known--though I do love them dearly--but with a little Tuxedo girl named Elvira. The minute she saw me she came for me purring a deep throaty purr, and I was smitten. She didn;t leave my side the whole time we were at the shelter and I knew we'd have to take her home as well, or I would never be able to leave.
Shot with Canon PowerShot S2 IS at 2007-10-07
So we have three new babies in the house: Obsidian, Onyx and Elvira. The older cats aren't too chuffed about this but I think they'll come around in time. And it's even worth their grief to me to have the babies. To watch them play and to have them snuggle together and with me is just what I needed to start lifting me from this bleak depression I've been labouring under.
"Bring me a box of kittens, Stat!" I wish I could have had them a long time ago, but then maybe I wouldn;t have got the right ones and these kittens are the medicine for me.
Shot with Canon PowerShot S2 IS at 2007-10-07
Onyx
Shot with Canon PowerShot S2 IS at 2007-10-07
Obsidian
Until the other day. Thursday, I think it was.
One of these Internet friends on the My Cat Hates You board located a pair of twin black kittens at a foster home only two hours from where I live. We called the fosterer and made arrangements to go "see" them Saturday, but I already knew we'd be coming home with them--if the fosterer approved, which it seemed over the phone that she would.
What I didn't bargain for was falling in love. Not with the Purr Boys, as the two black brothers were known--though I do love them dearly--but with a little Tuxedo girl named Elvira. The minute she saw me she came for me purring a deep throaty purr, and I was smitten. She didn;t leave my side the whole time we were at the shelter and I knew we'd have to take her home as well, or I would never be able to leave.
Shot with Canon PowerShot S2 IS at 2007-10-07
So we have three new babies in the house: Obsidian, Onyx and Elvira. The older cats aren't too chuffed about this but I think they'll come around in time. And it's even worth their grief to me to have the babies. To watch them play and to have them snuggle together and with me is just what I needed to start lifting me from this bleak depression I've been labouring under.
"Bring me a box of kittens, Stat!" I wish I could have had them a long time ago, but then maybe I wouldn;t have got the right ones and these kittens are the medicine for me.
Shot with Canon PowerShot S2 IS at 2007-10-07
Onyx
Shot with Canon PowerShot S2 IS at 2007-10-07
Obsidian
Friday, October 5, 2007
Writing a blog when you have nothing to say...
I really want to write a blog and I REALLY have nothing to say. Shall I talk about the weather? It's grim out--alternately cloudy and sunny with spats of rain that make the cats very upset.
Shall I talk about my health? I think it's a migraine day--anyway, I took the migraine medication just in case and I am hanging about in my jammies still, not really feeling up to anything. I think I may also be coming down with bronchitis because I have this dry cough that keeps me up at night. I dreamed all night I was trying to blow my nose and nothing was coming out. What does that signify, Dr. Freud?
Shall I dare to eat a peach? I DID deat a peach, one of the last of the season and it was really good. So take that, Mr. Prufrock. If you can't get up the balls to eat your peaches while they come to you, maybe you don;t deserve to have the mermaids singing to you.
Harshing on a character from a poem.
Mostly I;m spending today waiting for it to be tomorrow. Why? Because we have the opportunity to adopt a couple more kitties! I'm really excited about that. I hope it works out.
These are some of the most random mutterings yet. And I think I'm through with them.
Shall I talk about my health? I think it's a migraine day--anyway, I took the migraine medication just in case and I am hanging about in my jammies still, not really feeling up to anything. I think I may also be coming down with bronchitis because I have this dry cough that keeps me up at night. I dreamed all night I was trying to blow my nose and nothing was coming out. What does that signify, Dr. Freud?
Shall I dare to eat a peach? I DID deat a peach, one of the last of the season and it was really good. So take that, Mr. Prufrock. If you can't get up the balls to eat your peaches while they come to you, maybe you don;t deserve to have the mermaids singing to you.
Harshing on a character from a poem.
Mostly I;m spending today waiting for it to be tomorrow. Why? Because we have the opportunity to adopt a couple more kitties! I'm really excited about that. I hope it works out.
These are some of the most random mutterings yet. And I think I'm through with them.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
How to Write a Novel
At last, a list of easy steps for writing that novel that is in your heart.
1. Drag self out of bed. Make coffee. Drink coffee while perusing the Internet for at least two hours.
2. Eat breakfast. Think about settling down to write. Decide it's more important to pay your outstanding bills. Pay bills.
3. Smoke. Drink more coffee while playing a computer game.
4. Get dressed. Walk downtown to mail bills you paid previously. Find other spurious errands to run downtown.
5. Sign back on the internet to see if anything has changed there. Shop for shoes.
6. Smoke some more.
7. Open up document containing your novel. Read what you wrote yesterday. Delete half of it.
8. Go pee.
9. Make a nice cup of chamomile tea.
10. Go back to novel. Think it sucks.
11. Go BACK to internet and waste an hour answering posts on the forums you belong to. Search e-bay for shoes you couldn't find earlier.
12. Make another cup of tea.
13. Go back to novel. write three words.
14. Wander aimlessly around the house tearing your hair out while trying to think what happens next.
15. Pee again.
16. Realise it's really late and you need to make lunch befo0re you can do anything. Eat PBJ while perusing the internet some more.
17. Go back to novel. Delete the three words you wrote earlier and write three different words.
18. Stare at the screen.
19. Minimize novel and play a computer game while chain smoking.
20. Get a great idea and write three paragraphs before you begin to think it really stinks and you run out of steam.
21. Go pee.
22. Come back to novel. Read what you've written that day and decide it's probably enough. After all, even Stephen King only writes three pages a day.
23. Make dinner. Eat. Sit around the rest of the evening being haunted by all the great things you had to say that you couldn;t think of while actually sitting at your computer.
24. Go to bed.
25. repeat all steps until novel is completed.
1. Drag self out of bed. Make coffee. Drink coffee while perusing the Internet for at least two hours.
2. Eat breakfast. Think about settling down to write. Decide it's more important to pay your outstanding bills. Pay bills.
3. Smoke. Drink more coffee while playing a computer game.
4. Get dressed. Walk downtown to mail bills you paid previously. Find other spurious errands to run downtown.
5. Sign back on the internet to see if anything has changed there. Shop for shoes.
6. Smoke some more.
7. Open up document containing your novel. Read what you wrote yesterday. Delete half of it.
8. Go pee.
9. Make a nice cup of chamomile tea.
10. Go back to novel. Think it sucks.
11. Go BACK to internet and waste an hour answering posts on the forums you belong to. Search e-bay for shoes you couldn't find earlier.
12. Make another cup of tea.
13. Go back to novel. write three words.
14. Wander aimlessly around the house tearing your hair out while trying to think what happens next.
15. Pee again.
16. Realise it's really late and you need to make lunch befo0re you can do anything. Eat PBJ while perusing the internet some more.
17. Go back to novel. Delete the three words you wrote earlier and write three different words.
18. Stare at the screen.
19. Minimize novel and play a computer game while chain smoking.
20. Get a great idea and write three paragraphs before you begin to think it really stinks and you run out of steam.
21. Go pee.
22. Come back to novel. Read what you've written that day and decide it's probably enough. After all, even Stephen King only writes three pages a day.
23. Make dinner. Eat. Sit around the rest of the evening being haunted by all the great things you had to say that you couldn;t think of while actually sitting at your computer.
24. Go to bed.
25. repeat all steps until novel is completed.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
She
I've been thinking a lot about writing poetry again, or at least trying to finish some things I started.
here's something I wrote a long time ago:
here's something I wrote a long time ago:
There is a woman who stands
behind me sometimes. She stands
behind me days when I wake
cranky and wise, eyes gummed and pregnant as I drag
myself to coffee, a pythia trailing
blankets for robes
She stands behind me.
She stands behind me with her hands
on my shoulders, so close I can feel
her breasts brush
my back just there, between the scapulae
on either side of my spine.
They are not a girl's breasts, firm and upturned,
the proud, first badges of impending womanhood.
Nor yet are they a mother's: ripe, round and full,
puckered about the nipple as navel oranges.
These breasts are empty sacks,
sagging and wrinkled
rinds only, the juice sucked out by greedy mouths
leaving her pulp
and a few tangy drops of memory.
From these breasts I know her.
She is there when my girlfriend comes over to drink
tea, smoke, and tell me her latest problems with her lover.
"Do you want my opinion?" I ask, knowing
she has no choice but to hear it
knowing the opinion is not entirely mine.
"Of course," she replies, so I give it to her.
Her lips tighten and she turns a shade paler.
"I think," she says, inhaling blue reassurance,
"I just need to learn to accept and let go."
She breathes down my neck and I
am suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to yank
my broom down from its shelf and commit an act of violence.
The phrase, "beat some sense into" reverberates through my inner ear
like the echo of chanting in a cave where bats' wings whisper
in the dark
"More tea?" I ask, and get up to put the kettle on.
She is not the smiling grandmother who welcomes
you into a steamy, sweet-smelling kitchen,
a setting hen clucking while she hangs
your wet, snow-encrusted coat over the radiator.
She does not offer you cocoa and cookies
And a large, ample lap in the rocking chair by the fire.
She is the witch who shuts you in the oven
until every excess is burned away.
She loves you like a surgeon's knife
cutting out a tumour.
She hates complacency.
She knows that change is never gentle
but will not accept that as an excuse.
She does what must be done
with a ruthless disregard for sentiment.
Insects die in the first frost; deer struggle and starve in the snow;
Still, winter comes.
She is the black-billed magpie ripping
flesh from the smashed prairie dog at the side of the road.
She can't abide waste.
She has a use for everything.
She knows no anger, only necessity.
She cuts the thread her sister spun
whether she likes you or not.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Talking 'bout the Weather and stuff
It was beautiful this morning--one of those sunny fall days where the sky is the blue of glacial ice and there's just enough breeze to make the leaves on the trees rustle and spin on their way to the ground. (The breeze here has smelled strongly of Skunk all day, but never mind that). Now it's clouding over and there's supposed to be rain in the night. I don't mind. I like rain. I like most kinds of weather, except freezing cold and even that is okay if you know you're going home to a nice fire and a cup of cocoa.
I didn;t manage to get out in it--still suffering intense agoraphobia. I no longer think people are gooing to track me down and kill me--not so much--but I don;t want to go out of the house without a bodyguard, preferably armed. I did my Pilates instead and now I feel better about lots of things. Pilates always makes me feel like a dancer again. I surely miss my old dance classes and my dance teacher. I wonder where she is now. I wonder if she's still alive? I could google her, but I'm afraid of what I might find out. Like when I googled my old boyfriend and found his father's obituary: that was a shock.
Still missing my old friends. This time of year with all its reminders of school, both good and bad, really makes me want to find some of them. The irony is, I'm fairly sure the toxic bitch knows where at least some of them are and there's no way I can ask her. Shite, for all I know she's told them all what a psycho I am.
I don't think I'm a psycho. But then there's the little matter of how many friends I've "lost"--okay, let's be blunt and say "thrown out of my life." My therapist says I needed to do it in all the cases I've told her about...but I can't help but wonder if it's something wrong with ME, something I'm doing wrong that makes my relationships fall apart. Again, my therapist says we tend to attract to ourselves things that we've attracted before--so if you've been abused, you attract abusers, etc. And I guess I've never had a really normal friendship with anyone except maybe my husband.
I get so lonely sometimes, though.
La La La La...I don't really have anything to say and I didn't when I started writing this, which is why I started by talking about the weather. Still, I've been feeling the urge to write and this blog seems to be the only thing I can write with any consistency. There aren't any storied in me yet, but they'll come.
Michael told me the other day that Locked is excellent and should be required reading for anyone going into the field of psychotherapy. I'd like to work on that more but I don't know where it goes from the place I stopped. The problem is, my experience with the psych ward(s) doesn't have a nice happy contained ending. They just set me loose at some point and I spent the following 20 years clinging to life with my fingernails. I'd like to bring it around somehow to my diagnosis, but I think that would have to be in an epilog somewhere. Huh.
I forgot to eat lunch and now I'm hungry but it's too close to dinner to eat anything now...
I didn;t manage to get out in it--still suffering intense agoraphobia. I no longer think people are gooing to track me down and kill me--not so much--but I don;t want to go out of the house without a bodyguard, preferably armed. I did my Pilates instead and now I feel better about lots of things. Pilates always makes me feel like a dancer again. I surely miss my old dance classes and my dance teacher. I wonder where she is now. I wonder if she's still alive? I could google her, but I'm afraid of what I might find out. Like when I googled my old boyfriend and found his father's obituary: that was a shock.
Still missing my old friends. This time of year with all its reminders of school, both good and bad, really makes me want to find some of them. The irony is, I'm fairly sure the toxic bitch knows where at least some of them are and there's no way I can ask her. Shite, for all I know she's told them all what a psycho I am.
I don't think I'm a psycho. But then there's the little matter of how many friends I've "lost"--okay, let's be blunt and say "thrown out of my life." My therapist says I needed to do it in all the cases I've told her about...but I can't help but wonder if it's something wrong with ME, something I'm doing wrong that makes my relationships fall apart. Again, my therapist says we tend to attract to ourselves things that we've attracted before--so if you've been abused, you attract abusers, etc. And I guess I've never had a really normal friendship with anyone except maybe my husband.
I get so lonely sometimes, though.
La La La La...I don't really have anything to say and I didn't when I started writing this, which is why I started by talking about the weather. Still, I've been feeling the urge to write and this blog seems to be the only thing I can write with any consistency. There aren't any storied in me yet, but they'll come.
Michael told me the other day that Locked is excellent and should be required reading for anyone going into the field of psychotherapy. I'd like to work on that more but I don't know where it goes from the place I stopped. The problem is, my experience with the psych ward(s) doesn't have a nice happy contained ending. They just set me loose at some point and I spent the following 20 years clinging to life with my fingernails. I'd like to bring it around somehow to my diagnosis, but I think that would have to be in an epilog somewhere. Huh.
I forgot to eat lunch and now I'm hungry but it's too close to dinner to eat anything now...
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