tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-135445552024-03-07T17:10:44.739+10:00(Slightly) Crazy DarknessPersonal journal featuring the daily thoughts, musings and gripes of a 30-something woman living with, and occasionally surviving, dysthymia (long-term depression) and a dissociative disorder (DDNOS)dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.comBlogger327125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-61144572778419179992010-06-18T15:32:00.000+10:002010-06-18T15:32:29.436+10:00New Blog Over There -->I've started a new blog, "<a href="http://sometimesthereisntaname.blogspot.com/">Sometimes There Isn't a Name</a>".dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-49730456077889586112010-01-25T14:00:00.004+10:002010-01-25T14:19:28.132+10:00Still AroundI can't believe that this blog is still here. It's been so many years since I last posted.<br /><br />I'm still alive and (somewhat) kicking. Unfortunately, I'm still struggling with the dissociation and depression stuff, kinda big time actually since therapy stepped up a notch or two mid-September last year. I've been travelling into the "big smoke" to see the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pdoc</span> weekly and staying overnight in hospital. Just last week we started with two appointments per week: on the Wednesday, then the overnight stay in hospital and an appointment the following day. Don't know how that will work out in the long run. Just have to wait and see I guess. Every week seems to bring up the same crisis feelings though ... suicidal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ideation</span>, dissociation, intense hopelessness etc etc. Let's hope the old adage, "It has to get worse before it gets better," is true.<br /><br />In amongst the whole head space crap, I'm going to try to loose some weight. Signed up with Weight Watchers online this morning after thinking about the weight issue for some weeks. I really don't know how successful I will be in the long run. Making bad health choices has been a mild form of self harm for me for years ... the whole if I smoke heaps and eat bad stuff, I will shorten my life considerably. So, I have all that stuff to fight against, but I'm going to give it a go anyway.<br /><br />That's about it for the moment, my little blog. Write in you in another couple of years perhaps? Or maybe a week or two ... who knows.dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-11295024197243778332006-09-26T01:28:00.001+10:002006-09-26T01:28:42.532+10:00Sleep, Dumb SleepScrap that last post. Sleep is good and all when you get it but it completely sucks when you have trouble getting to sleep.<br /><br />I am so awake yet so extremely tired. Pure exhaustion is what I feeling but can I fall asleep? Noooooo!<br /><br />What an absolute prick of a state to be in! I long for the release of sleep but it just isn't happening. Believe me, I've been trying for that elusive sleep. I've been in bed for hours but when I turn off the TV and cuddle up to my pillow that's as far as I get.<br /><br />Worse still, I'm so tired I can't bring myself to do anything useful. My whole house is filthy but I don't have the energy to clean it. I can't even be bothered doing something that I would usually enjoy ... working on one of my websites for example.<br /><br />Ugh!<br /><br />Maybe I shouldn't complain too much. After last night's limited sleep and feeling incredibly dopey all morning, I did fall asleep in the afternoon. In fact, I slept for around three hours. I guess that is part of the reason I am still awake tonight but unfortunately it doesn't make me feel any better about the predicament I find myself in now.<br /><br />I am really missing my crazy meds. At least while taking Seroquel I was guaranteed of a good night's sleep. I could drink as much coffee as I wanted in the evenings. I could do whatever I wanted before going to bed. With the help of the Seroquel I slept regardless.<br /><br />And while I am busy complaining, what is with feeling just as crappy now I am off the pills as I felt when I was on them? That is so not friggin' fair! I still feel down almost constantly. I still can't get excited about life by any stretch of the imagination. I still ... <span style="font-style: italic;">*insert any number of things here*</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*Sigh*</span><br /><br />Maybe all I need is to have something to sink my teeth into. If that is the case I can't wait until the TAFE holidays are over and my next term of study begins. Let's hope that is all it is.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Update:</span> Okay, I relented. It's now 2:15am and I have just finished sawing one of my Seroquel tablets in half. Half a one is better than a full one, right? Anyway, it is down the hatch now so hopefully I will be getting some sleep in a hour or so. Thank goodness for that!dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-3570327107059916842006-09-25T08:26:00.001+10:002006-09-25T08:26:58.426+10:00Sleep, Glorious SleepLast night I actually slept without the aid of Seroquel. How about that! Okay, well, it was an incredibly short sleep (maybe four hours) but it was a good sleep … no tossing or turning at all. Oh, and yeah, I still feel tired this morning but ya get that. I guess there is just no pleasing me. <em>*smiles*</em>dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-21234885378558613702006-09-23T12:34:00.001+10:002006-09-23T12:34:43.954+10:00I Want, I Want, I Want!I want my own domain! I want, I want, I want!!! <span style="font-style: italic;">* </span><span style="font-style: italic;">insert childlike foot stomping here</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> *</span><br /><br />For a few days now I have been mucking around with a WordPress blog over on my <a href="http://www.centralqueenslandcemeteries.com">centralqueenslandcemeteries.com</a> domain. (Yes, that's right ... I already have my own domain). I set up a new blog on a subdomain just for fun, found myself a cute little WordPress template (be stuffed if I can write my own ... that php stuff is just too much of a mystery to me), and even made a couple of posts.<br /><br />The problem is that the subdomain thing just isn't working for me. To begin with adding a personal blog to the centralqueenslandcemeteries.com domain feels plain weird considering the type of stuff I write in my blog. It doesn't fit with the original website that sits on that domain. Additionally, half the time the blog doesn't load. Now that's a pain and a half when I want to write a post or just take a look at the cute little cartoon characters that appear on the template.<br /><br />So ... I want, I want, I want!!!<br /><br />Is it silly to pay for <span style="font-style: italic;">another</span> domain (not that it's all that expensive <span style="font-style: italic;">* smiles *</span>) just to plop a blog on it when blogger works perfectly fine? Mind you, I could always move my Central Queensland Cemeteries website over to the new domain and just let the centralqueenslandcemeteries.com domain lapse when it is due for renewal. That way I could have my website and my blog. I would just need to pick a good all-rounder type of domain name that suits both my blog and my website.<br /><br />Mmmm ... choices, choices, choices.<br /><br />I want, I want, I want!!!dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-83892409301627552912006-09-21T17:05:00.000+10:002006-09-21T17:09:16.745+10:00Breathe MeDuring my travels around the Internet yesterday, I stumbled across a song which sums up how I have been feeling a lot over these past few weeks. The song is Breathe Me by Sia and the lyrics are as follows:<br /><br /><blockquote><p>Help, I have done it again<br />I have been here many times before<br />Hurt myself again today<br />And, the worst part is there’s no-one else to blame</p> <p>Be my friend<br />Hold me, wrap me up<br />Unfold me<br />I am small<br />I’m needy<br />Warm me up<br />And breathe me</p> <p>Ouch I have lost myself again<br />Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found<br />Yeah I think that I might break<br />I’ve lost myself again and I feel unsafe</p> <p>Be my friend<br />Hold me, wrap me up<br />Unfold me<br />I am small<br />I’m needy<br />Warm me up<br />And breathe me</p> <p>Be my friend<br />Hold me, wrap me up<br />Unfold me<br />I am small<br />I’m needy<br />Warm me up<br />And breathe me</p></blockquote><br />What a powerful little song! Over the past few weeks I have felt terribly alone, even if in reality I haven’t been. I’ve felt like I have lost myself. I felt like I was breaking apart. I have definitely felt unsafe.<br /><br />Sometimes it is hard to express oneself. In it’s own way, coming across such a song helps to let it all out.dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-81571545151486940452006-09-16T18:50:00.000+10:002006-09-16T18:51:13.082+10:00No Brainer<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/nobrainer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/nobrainer.jpg" alt="no brain needed" border="0" /></a><br />GBF travelled up north for a conference this week. He took my camera with him and, as a result, arrived home with a bunch of photographs from his travels. Here's my favourite photo though. It's my new motto!dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-77159262499170717402006-09-14T11:16:00.001+10:002006-09-14T11:16:47.075+10:00Something a Little More LightheartedThe following is stolen from the current issue of Australia's "That's Life" magazine (issue 38, September 20, 2006) and appears in the "Your Letters" section. It really is one of those Homer Simpson "D'oh!" moments. Kinda funny! <span style="font-style: italic;">*smiles*</span><br /><br /><blockquote>My partner and I had to attend a ball but being heavily pregnant, I didn't want to spend a fortune on a new gown. So I rang around a few formal hire outlets to ask if they had maternity formal wear. A male voice at one particular establishment asked, "For women?"</blockquote><br />Reminds me of a song ... "Folks are dumb where I come from ..." LOLdissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-53101364292988803312006-09-14T09:58:00.000+10:002006-09-14T09:59:09.815+10:00Some "Light" Reading and Way Too Many Thoughts<blockquote>"It is impossible to know who we are unless we can remember where we’ve come from (Middleton, 2005). We are defined by the journey that thus far has brought us to here. The more readily we can access the past that shaped us, the more that we can own and share with those we trust the feelings and vulnerabilities that have accrued from our life experience, then the more likely it is that we will be empathically receptive to others. The less we have 'no go' zones in terms of what has happened to us or the feelings associated with such events, the more likely it is that we will have assembled functional personal boundaries, affective stability, healthy self-esteem and be self-activated enough to aim high in the pursuit of love, work and play. The capacity to remember, and the capacity to process pain lie close together."<br />(<a href="http://www.delphicentre.com.au/MiddletonConference2006/Reconstruct_thePast-WMApril06.pdf"></a>Middleton, 2006. p.23)<br /></blockquote><br />Last night and this morning I have been doing some "light" reading (a whole 112 pages worth ... eek!). When I googled "dissociation and depression in the non-traumatized population" I stumbled across a paper, written by the Australian psychiatrist Warwick Middleton (whom I was actually "head shrinked" by when I stayed in a Brissie hospital for a few weeks a couple of years ago), entitled "<a href="http://www.delphicentre.com.au/MiddletonConference2006/Reconstruct_thePast-WMApril06.pdf">Reconstructing the Past: Trauma, Memory and Therapy</a>". It is actually a background paper to a seminar he held earlier this year representing an extension to the exploration of some themes covered in the paper: Middleton W, De Marni Cromer L, Freyd JJ (2005). Remembering the past, anticipating the future. Australasian Psychiatry,13:3, 223-233. My pdoc gave me a copy of that particular article a few months ago (which reminds me, I have to get the thing back to him) in order for me to gain a better understanding of dissociation which, unfortunately, it didn't. (Hello? Where's my traumatic background? Did I traumatise myself by overdosing or something? Why does everything I read have to be related to trauma? It doesn't make any sense for my situation. There has got to be something out there that I can relate to ... surely).<br /><br />Anyway, why am I quoting the above text? In a sick, perverted way I almost wish that I did have some sort of past trauma to contend with (my apologies to anyone who has lived through the hell of an abusive situation). If that were the case then it would give some meaning or reason to the way that I am now. Depressed ... yep. Dissociative ... I don't know. Traumatised ... nope. It just doesn't make sense.<br /><br /><blockquote>"The less we have 'no go' zones in terms of what has happened to us or the feelings associated with such events, the more likely it is that we will have assembled functional personal boundaries, affective stability, healthy self-esteem and be self-activated enough to aim high in the pursuit of love, work and play."</blockquote><br />Yes please! I wish I felt stable. I wish I had a healthy self-esteem. I wish I was self-activated (actualized ?) enough to aim high in the pursuit of love, work and play. Sounds great, doesn't it? These things sound like the ingredients to a happy, healthy and productive life.<br /><br />Instead I am sitting here wondering why the hell I am so useless, thinking that Hubby would be much better off with someone else besides me in his life, and wondering why I have been reacting so negatively (especially in relation to my pdoc's therapeutic endeavours ... medication and otherwise) over these past couple of weeks.<br /><br />The scary thing is that there is no causal relationship with anything for me. I am the way I am. The old argument of nature vs nurture (did I do too many psych 101 classes or what!) appears to tip significantly to the side of nature in my case and I don't like that. It means that I am a flawed individual who just needs to pull herself up by the boot straps, stop whinging and whining and get on with life. Mmmm!<br /><br />Anyway, I have been thinking way, way too much since my last pdoc appointment. I have today and tomorrow in which to finish my TAFE work for the term otherwise I will fail. There is no doubt about it, I need to spend today finishing off the last of my TAFE work. Anyone got the recipe to turning off the wandering mind and focusing on what has to be done?dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-57023650650297417062006-09-13T14:49:00.000+10:002006-09-13T14:51:08.398+10:00Phase Three But Close To FailureWell, I've still been following my little "decreasing my medications to nothing" plan but it is becoming harder and harder to keep a hold of my resolve to do so. It's been nothing short of a roller coaster ride. I'm either experiencing the lowest of lows or almost dancing around the house making up silly little songs to sing over and over again. In short, I feel like I am losing control of me.<br /><br />Despite the glaringly obvious disadvantages (which I have been writing almost constantly about in my long-hand, offline journal ... stuff which is just way too dark and rambling to publish here), there are advantages to not taking as much medication.<br /><br />Yikes! What are they now? I've forgotten them in the time that it took me to write the preceding sentence. Geez! Okay ... try to get back on track here.<br /><br />The advantages:<br /><ul><li>regaining the ability to cry</li><li>the up periods, despite being somewhat of a mixed state, can almost be described as wonderful</li><li>despite the pain, feeling, even the negative emotions, seems like it might be more normal than the constant and unreal suppression of feelings and emotions due to taking medication.</li><li>I seem to be dreaming far more regularly<br /></li></ul>Then there is the hope that if I can manage to withstand the roller coaster ride of "withdrawing" from my medication dependence, then I might just find "me" again, that the depression will somehow just magically fall by the wayside and maybe this nightmare will simply vanish into thin air.<br /><br />As an aside, I rang up the local public adult mental health service a short while ago, primarily to ask them if they knew of any other private psychiatrists in the region. Apparently my pdoc is the only one. I suspected that to be the case though.<br /><br />The woman who answered the phone was very docile to say the least. I had to tell her several times that I was already a patient of my pdoc's. It was like, "Hello! I'm not just a person who is ringing up your service to get an appointment with your pdoc for the hell of it! In fact, I'm not even ringing up to get an appointment with your pdoc at all for goodness sake." In amongst all her rambling about either needing to get a doctor's referral or having to go through the service's ACT (Acute Care Team, I think) which apparently is a long and drawn out process (who the hell cares ... I'm not trying to get an appointment, remember!), she mumbles something about there not being another private psychiatrist in the region. Yay! Access to the tiny bit of information that I was actually after, albeit almost hidden in amongst her verbal diarrhoea. <span style="font-style: italic;">*Sigh*</span> And they wonder why people just give up.<br /><br />Anyway, enough of that aside.<br /><br />So yeah ... I guess my point is that I am not so sure about going off the medication any more. It's been a hard thing to do. I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. I was kind of hoping to show my pdoc what I was like sans medication. After all, he has never seen me off medication. I don't think I will be able to hold out until our next appointment though.<br /><br />I'm still mystified about this therapy business too. It would appear that my pdoc does not know how to deal with my silences during therapy appointments. He is unable to draw me out and get me speaking. Believe me, I have tried to do this on my own, but I can't do it either. I don't know if the goal of therapy is to discover why life sucks so much for me, but I'm certainly unaware of the pdoc and I discovering any of my issues, why I feel this way almost constantly ... yadda yadda yadda. Consequently, I am still depressed. I still would, quite frankly, rather be dead than having to live this so called life of mine for however long I have left to walk on this godforsaken earth.<br /><br />I don't know. Maybe I should just forget the whole thing. Screw the medication. It doesn't work. Screw the pdoc and his therapy. It hasn't worked either. I don't have a real psychiatric illness anyway, so maybe I just need to get over myself, stop thinking that there will be a moment when suddenly I will understand why I live with constant depressive feelings and that by knowing this, that the depression will go away forever. It's never going to happen. There must be millions of other people who live with depressive feelings every day of their lives, but they have learnt to cope, that it is not an issue anymore for them and that they actually contribute to this world instead of hiding out in their lounge room in front of their computer doing nothing like I do.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*Sigh*</span> Get over it, K. Your mother was right when she called you pathetic. I'm a pathetic, spoilt little bitch that just needs to get a freakin' life no matter how much I don't want one.<br /><br />I'll regret this post later. In fact, I think I will regret the whole blog. I should rename it to, "The Pathetic Little Immature Bitch's Constant Whinging That Nobody Deserves To Have To Be Subjected To".dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-53137832866298544842006-09-08T15:57:00.000+10:002006-09-08T15:58:09.323+10:00Bloody Hell! Who's Next?<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/disso_k/238696431/"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/90/238696431_0a340423af_m.jpg" style="float: left; margin-right: 5px;" /></a>First it was Steve Irwin and now Peter Brock. Shit! How many more Aussie icons have to pass away this week?<br /><br />I've just heard on the news that Peter Brock, an Australian champion racing car driver, was killed in a racing accident while competing in Western Australia's "Targa West" rally. Apparently the accident occured around 1:50pm AEST today.<br /><br />I'm in shock! I grew up watching Brockie race around Brisbane's Lakeside Raceway. Dad used to take my brother and I to watch every race when the touring cars rolled into town. I was even lucky enough to be present at Lakeside in 1997 when Brockie farewelled full-time racing.<br /><br />At least he died doing what he loved, I suppose. R.I.P. Brockie! You were my icon!dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-85529928149093753292006-09-07T09:15:00.001+10:002006-09-07T09:15:55.091+10:00Phase Two Started<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/pills.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/200/pills.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Well, I have to say that these past few days have been absolute hell. My general mood has been really low and I've been thinking about harming myself ... not just the usual benign self harm either, but thoughts of overdosing again. It is only because of Hubby that I have stopped myself. I am reluctant to put him through it again. It wouldn't be fair. At least, by thinking of his side of things, I must still have some logical thought swarming around in my head somewhere.<br /><br />Dispersed within the low mood have been moments of feeling completely out of it, like I'm stoned or something (dissociation?) and even moments of a sort of fake elevated mood where all I can do is giggle. I must admit that I kind of liked the fake elevated mood. It's nice to have a bit of a giggle about anything and everything. Feeling a little out of control during these times is the downside though. As for the stoned feeling, well, I am used to that.<br /><br />Another notable thing that has been happening is I am crying. Who would have thought, hey. I am actually able to cry again. It's been so long since I have been able to release my emotions in this way. The medications that I have been taking have definitely blocked that ability. It sucks feeling so distraught and hopeless that I have been crying, but it is nice to be able to do it again.<br /><br />Despite the rollercoaster, I've decided to persist with the decreasing of my medications plan and ultimately becoming medication free by my next appointment with my psychiatrist. If he has given up on me, then I am within my rights to give up on his medication, right? (I realise that's probably faulty thinking, but hey, I can't be completely logical ... it's not my style).<br /><br />Perhaps something that has renewed my determination to stick to the decreasing of my medications plan is I woke up this morning feeling, well, alive. The world seemed real for the first time in a long, long time. The sun was bright and there were little things happening all around me like birds chirping and the like. I even feel like I have enough energy and motivation to finish off my TAFE assignments today. Cool, huh. Let's hope this feeling continues and I don't crash later on in the day. I have my fingers crossed.dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-30980342033107295422006-09-04T20:19:00.000+10:002006-09-04T20:20:14.344+10:00Its a Strange OneToday has turned out to be one heck of a strange day. This morning I woke up just after 6:30 to my husky alarm clock. I spent the morning on the computer, primarily compiling an alphabetical list of names for my <a href="http://www.centralqueenslandcemeteries.com/">Central Queensland Cemeteries</a> website. It was a hard slog though, so I didn't get much done. Even during the morning I felt a little tired and unmotivated.<br /><br />The afternoon saw me watching a little television, snoozing on the couch for a spell and spending a little more time aimlessly wandering around the Internet. The tiredness definitely had a grip on me by the afternoon and even though I really needed to get stuck into my last TAFE assignment for the term, I just didn't have the motivation to even begin work on it, let alone focus on it for any length of time. It almost goes without saying that I didn't have the drive or energy to get off my butt and cook a meal for Hubby's crib tonight. Thank goodness for takeaway, even if it does cost a fortune.<br /><br />Tonight is just plain weird. I've gone beyond the tiredness I think yet I can't bring myself to do anything. I tried cleaning up the kitchen, but I only got half way through clearing the clean dishes from the dishwasher before I stumbled back to the couch. I feel strange too. The weather is hot and sticky. I feel like lead. I'm as sluggish as a sloth. My mind is devoid of thought. I am totally not with it. I could barely converse with GBF when he was trying to talk to me earlier. It was just too strange trying to keep up with what he was saying.<br /><br />So, is the decrease in medication finally catching up with me? Damn, its hard to tell. I have the potential to feel as off as I do now any old time I guess.<br /><br />I'm still a bit concerned about going off the medication like I planned to do. The medication feels like my crutch and I am scared of loosing it. I just have to keep focused on the end result I am trying to achieve.dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-35586772428244482952006-09-03T03:56:00.001+10:002006-09-03T03:56:34.950+10:00Karaoke Murri Style<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/group.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/group.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Tonight saw NAIDOC week's final event, "Murrioke", a night of singing and drunken revelry. Although only a small crowd was in attendance, it was a spirited group which was ready to party. Consequently, I would say that a good night was had by all.<br /><br />I must admit though, that when it comes to karaoke and singing in front of a crowd, I am a huge piker. There is no way anybody would be able to get me up to that microphone and I managed to give it a wide berth tonight too, thank goodness. My dubious singing voice is better left to the confines of the shower.<br /><br />Although it was a good night and I was surrounded by a bunch of wonderful people, I can't say that I actually enjoyed myself. I don't know what is wrong with me. I tend to feel lost and inadequate in a crowd. My inability to loosen up and just enjoy myself is incredibly frustrating. I think I need to bash my head up against a brick wall several times and just get over myself or something. Grrr at me!<br /><br />Don't get me wrong though. Tonight certainly didn't suck by any stretch of the imagination. I'm starting to get to know these people quite well and I truly admire them and they are a joy to be around. I think I am just firmly entrenched in my non-feeling, non-emotional state at the moment, hence the ambivalence.dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-16834162530770237882006-09-01T21:36:00.001+10:002006-09-01T21:36:45.154+10:00First Day Went OkayI went ahead with the decrease in my medications as I outlined in yesterday's posts. So far so good too. I don't feel any difference whatsoever, so that has got to be a good thing.<br /><br />I am feeling really tired though. Mind you, I have been feeling tired and unmotivated for about a week now which is kind of annoying, but I suppose that will pass. At least I hope it will. I would really like to finish up this term's TAFE work by the end of next week, so it would be nice to get some energy and motivation back. By doing so I will have an extra week up my sleeve until the end of the term just in case I need to take another look at any of my assignments.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/naidoc2006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/naidoc2006.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Despite the tiredness and lack of motivation, I attended my town's NAIDOC (National Aboriginal and Islander Day of Celebration) celebrations today. I got to admit that I turned up really, really late though. I didn't wake up until after 10:00 this morning, the time when the celebrations were scheduled to kick off. Bugger! Waking up so late and taking so long to drag myself away from the computer and my cup of coffee and cigarettes made me miss all the speeches and stuff. I did get to see the dancing though, which was cool.<br /><br />On the way home from the NAIDOC celebrations I had an urge to stop by the nursery to see if there were any nice plants to put in my new(ish) garden. I ended up buying some very cute little begonias. I'm not usually into little flowering plants, but these begonias had the coolest little waxy leaves. I ended up planting a whole heap of them around the edge of the garden, so once they grow a little and flower some more they should make a colourful garden edging.<br /><br />Speaking of buying new plants, I bought this fantastic Kangaroo Paw plant yesterday. It is absolutely gorgeous and will make a wonderful addition to my front garden. I'm going to have to plant it tomorrow while the soil is moist from the rain we've had over the past night or so.<br /><br />Actually, it is kind of funny me writing about plants. Who would have thought that I would get interested in gardening. Now that is a shock! I sound like an old nanna sitting here talking up my gardens and new plants. How scary is that! I must be getting old or something.<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br />Anyway, that is enough from the rambling old nanna tonight. <span style="font-style: italic;">*smiles*</span>dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-18922201644748311812006-08-31T12:23:00.001+10:002006-08-31T12:23:46.136+10:00More on the MedicationContinuing on from my previous post regarding going cold turkey on my medications, I must admit that I am feeling rather dependent on them and I am more than a little apprehensive about quitting them altogether. I wonder if it is an intelligent thing to do considering last time I tried to decrease my medications (that time with my pdoc's approval and support), I went down hill. I am determined to find out what I would be like sans medication though. Consequently, instead of just going cold turkey, perhaps it would be better just to slowly decrease them over a few weeks. I wouldn't go through any major withdrawal symptoms then.<br /><br />I've sat down and written up a short "decreasing the medications schedule" which I will adhere to over the next few weeks.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Current medications:</span><br /><ul><li>300mg Seroquel</li><li>40mg Lexapro</li><li>100mg Solian</li></ul><span style="font-weight: bold;">Decreasing the medications schedule:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Week 1:</span><br /><ul><li>200mg Seroquel (2 tablets)<br /></li><li>30mg Lexapro (1½ tablets)<br /></li><li>50mg Solian (½ tablets)</li></ul><span style="font-style: italic;">Week 2:</span><br /><ul><li>100mg Seroquel (1 tablet)</li><li>20mg Lexapro (1 tablet)</li><li>Nil Solian<!--</span--></li></ul><span style="font-style: italic;">Week 3:</span><br /><ul><li>50mg Seroquel (½ tablet)</li><li>10mg Lexapro (½ tablet)<br /></li><li>Nil Solian</li></ul><span style="font-style: italic;">Week 4:</span><br /><ul><li>Medication free!!!</li></ul>I think the above schedule is reasonable and as responsible as it can be given that my pdoc doesn't know anything about my intentions.<br /><br />So, tonight is the night! I'm going to start decreasing my medications as of tonight. By my next pdoc appointment I will be medication free and hopefully feeling more like my old self. Then I can tell my pdoc what I have done. Wish me luck!dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-25023151403743595442006-08-31T10:25:00.000+10:002006-08-31T10:26:19.147+10:00Frequency Changes Have Me F**kedHere's the deal. During yesterday's appointment my <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pdoc</span> suggested that we give the weekly appointments the flick and start on monthly appointments instead. The reason why? We have been going nowhere during our therapy appointments apparently since my last hospitalisation. I have apparently shut myself off to therapy. The <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pdoc</span> is frustrated.<br /><br />I cannot even begin to describe the thoughts that have been going through my head. One incredibly strong one is to go cold turkey on all my medications. I realise that it is going to be difficult initially, but there really is no point to taking them. Its not like I have a real psychiatric illness like schizophrenia or bipolar disorder.<br /><br />Aside from having a major death wish at the moment, I want to be myself again. I want to have a sense of self. I want to feel again, regardless of whether those feelings are toxic or <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">euphoric</span>. I want to be able to remember things properly. I'm not going to achieve these things through medication. I wonder if it was through the medication that I lost them. Before medication I had emotions and feelings. I used to be able to cry to let my feelings out. I never self harmed (apart from a couple, incredibly superficial times here and there when I was a kid). I don't remember ever dissociating. So what is the point of continuing on with the medication if it, in fact, has made things worse.<br /><br />The cessation of weekly appointments has also confirmed my thoughts about therapy. It doesn't work. There will be no time when, all of a sudden, I will realise that life is worth living. There will be no cathartic moment. Therapy doesn't change a thing. The underlying sadness that I have lived with all my life is not going to go away. I only have two choices. Get used to that fact and just live with it or do something drastic to make <span style="font-style: italic;">everything</span> go away. To be honest, I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can live like this for another 40 years until I finally snuff out due to old age.<br /><br />So where does all this leave me? I'm probably overreacting. People become used to therapy and the (dubious) hidden support received through it, right? Maybe I am only reacting like many other people would when faced with the same situation. It doesn't make it right though. Overreacting like this is f**<span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ked</span>. Therapy doesn't work, so what is my problem?<br /><br />I'll tell you what the problem is. Deep down, somewhere inside of me I held out hope. I wanted therapy to work. I wanted that moment of realisation that life could indeed be worth living. Facing up to the realisation that I will never have that moment is devastating. What the hell do I do now?dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-827530699305022982006-08-25T10:21:00.000+10:002006-08-25T10:22:54.121+10:00Thinking in Photoshop<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/life.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/400/life.jpg" alt="life" border="0" /></a>dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-72503664039182990852006-08-17T20:38:00.001+10:002006-08-17T20:38:50.266+10:00The Great Gazebo Construction<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/gazebo_one.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/gazebo_one.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Step one: The instructions! This has got to be easy!<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/gazebo_two.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/gazebo_two.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Step two: How do these fit together?<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/gazebo_three.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/gazebo_three.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Step three: Three sides up! Only one to go! Woohoo!<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/gazebo_four.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/gazebo_four.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Step four: Mmmm ... I think that goes there.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/gazebo_five.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/gazebo_five.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Step five: The furries lend their support ... err ... play.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/gazebo_six.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/gazebo_six.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Step six: Starting on the roof.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/gazebo_seven.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/gazebo_seven.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Step seven: Continuing with the roof ... how the heck does that go on there?!?<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/gazebo_eight.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/gazebo_eight.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Step eight: Success!!!<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/1600/gazebo_nine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3179/1653/320/gazebo_nine.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Step nine: The aftermath!</div>dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-78023088706210001632006-08-17T19:38:00.001+10:002006-08-17T19:38:44.794+10:00I Was a Little Bit NaughtyFirst of all I've got to say ... two posts in one day ... wow! What is the world coming to? But now onto the real reason for this post.<br /><br />I was a little naughty the other day. I gave up on the census work I'd been doing over the past few weeks. I guess giving up on it was always on the cards. I mean, it did drive me absolutely crazy and completely stuffed me physically.<br /><br />I had a real reason for quitting though. Pain! For years now, I've gotten this funky pain in my leg when I walk for any distance. It didn't bother me too much when I was delivering the census forms, but collecting them was a whole different story. My leg hurt like hell! Worse still, at the same time it somehow became numb as well. I guess when collecting forms I tended to walk faster than when delivering them. The whole process was just a little bit quicker, hence the pain blowing out of proportion.<br /><br />I struggled on with collecting forms for a couple of days, but when my area supervisor dropped in for a visit to see how I was going, I told her exactly what was happening and quit the job. Luckily, she responded to my news without emotion, so I didn't really feel all that guilty about quitting with only the collection period to go.<br /><br />I'm actually a little surprised with myself. I would have thought that I would feel bad about quitting the job, but in reality I don't. I have actually enjoyed (if that is the right word to use) catching up with a few little things around the house, like laundry, washing the dog and watering the garden and such. I have also completed a <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">TAFE</span> assignment and created a poster for <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">GBF</span> to help him out with his work. Its good having my time to myself again and being able to work on stuff that I actually want to do.<br /><br />It is good to have an alright sort of a day.dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-83375137565354121072006-08-17T08:31:00.000+10:002006-08-17T08:04:34.658+10:00Dreams, Dreams, DreamsNow that summer is drawing near and the sun is rising a little earlier in the morning, my husky is waking me up an hour or so earlier than what was the norm during the winter months. Despite that being a bit of an adjustment to handle, this morning it helped me to remember a dream that I must have been having when the dog acted as my own personal furry alarm clock. So, without further ado, here is my dream as I remember it.<br /><br />I had been admitted into a hospital which closely resembled the hospital that I have been in a few times now. In reality, psych patients generally get a private room, but in the dream I was sharing with a woman who was probably in her late 40's. For some bizarre reason, a group of wasps were building a huge, intricate nest over my room mate's bed. She didn't seem to notice or care about the nest's presence, but eventually I decided that I couldn't sleep in a room that harboured a huge wasps' nest.<br /><br />The pest exterminators were called and the nest was eradicated. I remember another patient commenting on how she noticed, when the nest was being removed, that it was filled with some sort of fatty, sludgy substance. Yuck!<br /><br />Upon removal however, a small number of wasps were left behind. I lay on my bed watching them scurry about on the roof, collecting the remaining vestiges of the nest and setting about building a new nest.<br /><br />When I awoke the next morning, the wasps had managed to rebuild a surprisingly large amount of nest, this time on the roof above my bed. In its own way, it was just as intricate and beautiful as the original nest.<br /><br />It was the final straw for me, however. I couldn't stay in the room any longer with the wasps busily buzzing around their nearly constructed nest, making their final touches on their construction. I headed outside to have a cigarette or five.<br /><br />Outside there were quite a number of people milling about in small groups, chatting or smoking. I wanted to be alone, so I wandered off a little and found a seat which sat some way away from all the other people. After sitting down, two men approached the back of my seat. I turned towards them and basically told them to go away, which thankfully they did.<br /><br />After a short time I re-entered the hospital building and made my way down the corridor to my room, except during my short walk down the corridor I completely forgot which room number I was staying in. I passed my room mate and asked her which room was ours. She indicated that it was room 1, but as we both entered the room, I realised that it didn't look like the correct one. At that stage, she mentioned how she didn't like sharing with other people, to which I agreed. We then agreed that we were in the wrong room, exited it and set about finding the proper room.<br /><br />And that was the end of the dream as I remember it.dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-1155191669158722882006-08-10T16:29:00.000+10:002006-08-10T16:34:29.336+10:00UpdatingQuick! It's time for an update. Hubby is sleeping in the bedroom. GBF isn't home from work yet. I'm taking a break from my census work today. As a consequence I actually have some time to myself in front of the computer. Yippee!<br /><br />The good news is that I finished delivering all my census forms late Tuesday afternoon. Thank goodness for that. We were supposed to have finished delivering forms by Monday evening. Oh well. Better late than never I guess. The whole exercise had left me physically exhausted and ready to chuck the whole job in.<br /><br />The bad news is that census night (the 8th of August) is over and it is time to wander the streets again to collect all the forms I previously delivered. Yuck! The merry-go-round starts spinning again! There's nothing left apart from gritting my teeth and getting out there I guess. I'll start tomorrow though. I think I deserve a day at home today.<br /><br />When I have finished with this whole census thing at least my butt will have gotten tighter, what with all the walking and all. Go the tighter butt, I say. Additionally, I am now sporting a new tan from all the time I have been spending out in our surprisingly strong winter sun. There's got to be a couple of good things about being a census collector.<br /><br />I attended my first pdoc appointment in a month yesterday. The pdoc was ill for a couple of weeks and I cancelled last week due to being too busy with my census work, so the weekly appointments didn't exactly turn out to be weekly by any stretch of the imagination. I don't know if I really have anything to comment on from yesterday's appointment. I didn't re-read my journal before attending the appointment so I had a hard time remembering what on earth had occurred during the previous month when the pdoc was referring to what I had written. Woops! Silly me! Note to self ... remember to re-read my journal entries before attending an appointment. I'm sure that would help the appointment to flow a little easier.<br /><br />During yesterday's appointment the pdoc suggested that I get the old burns on my leg looked at. Apparently they looked a little suspect. This morning I set about trying to get into one of the local doctors. I tell you, trying to get into see a doctor in this little town of mine can be an incredibly difficult thing to do. My usual GP was off attending to some sort of family crisis (eek ... poor bugger!) and the community health centre was booked out because of it. The other doctor in town I would have to be dying to bother making an appointment. The one and only time I saw the man for a mine medical he was just plain rude. Anyway, I eventually made my way to the local hospital (I guess we are lucky to have one of those) and, after a bit of a run around, saw the doctor there. I'm now on another round of antibiotics (I'm the antibiotic queen lately, I swear) to prevent infection and I have to keep the wounds covered for another five days. Good grief! What a pain! I guess there is a bad side to self harm no matter how much better it makes you feel at the time.<br /><br />Anyway, that's all my news for now.dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-1154169866579735762006-07-29T20:43:00.000+10:002006-07-29T20:47:48.876+10:00Pounding the Pavement<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/433/1195/1600/walking.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/433/1195/200/walking.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Today saw my second day out pounding the pavement delivering census forms. I managed to deliver a whole 28 forms in around 2½ hours. Gawd, it's slow going!<br /><br />After returning home from delivering, I sat down to work out just how many hours I will have to put in over the nine days that are left to deliver all the forms. It worked out, with an average of nine forms delivered per hour, to be 6 hours a day. Eek! How full on is that! I'm going to be busy, that's for sure and I've got to say, I am dreading it. Yuck!<br /><br />The good news is that today wasn't as horrendous as yesterday. Things seemed to flow a little better and because I didn't leave the house to start delivering until 3:00pm, it wasn't as hot as yesterday when I delivered during what was essentially the middle of the day.<br /><br />It looks like I will have to do a "split shift" when it comes to delivering the forms. I will have to go out for a couple of hours or so in the mornings, then return to the streets for a few hours in the afternoon. Hopefully, with quite a bit of pushing myself, I can get all of the forms delivered by the cut off date, which is Monday, 7 August.<br /><br />At least now I know NOT to apply for a census collector's position next time around. Wish me luck!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >Above photograph courtesy of <a style="font-size: 100%;" href="http://www.sxc.hu/index.phtml">stock.xchng</a>.</span>dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-1154076416747307402006-07-28T18:42:00.000+10:002006-07-28T18:46:57.013+10:00Ouch! My Feet Hurt!What on earth was I thinking? My feet hurt, my leg hurts (grrr ... I think the burns are infected), I'm dehydrated and I'm exhausted!<br /><br />Today was my first day out delivering the 2006 census forms. After organising 100 forms last night thinking that I would easily be able to deliver that amount, I only delivered 24 today! The worst of it is that delivering those 24 took 2 hours! Ugh! This census stuff is going to be hard work. I've got just over a week to deliver what must be at least 500 forms. Eek!<br /><br />What possessed me to say yes when I was offered a collector's position, I'll never know. It must have been a momentary lapse of reason, that or I had no idea it was going to take so long. I can only put my head down and bum up and work my guts out for the next week or so to get everything done on time. Help!dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13544555.post-1153565390113250662006-07-22T20:45:00.000+10:002006-07-25T09:00:30.180+10:00I've Been Hiding Something<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/433/1195/1600/alone_in_crowd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/433/1195/200/alone_in_crowd.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Don't quote me on this one, but a few short weeks ago my pdoc off-handedly mentioned that I feel anger rather intensely and frequently (or something along those lines). At the time I remember thinking, "Great, I probably have a personality disorder or something on top of everything else. Gee, aren't I lucky!" Tonight, as I sit here burning again, I've got to wonder if the pdoc had something there (about feeling emotions "abnormally", not the personality disorder thing).<br /><br />I've not long arrived home from an incredibly short social gathering, a free BBQ and public event organised by GBF as a part of his work. GBF had invited both Hubby and I, but only I went as Hubby did not want to go. Hubby whinged that I had not given him enough time to get ready and that he did not want to go out because "people sucked".<br /><br />I couldn't stay any length of time at the social gathering. I felt really disappointed that Hubby had chosen not to attend. It felt like he and I never did anything together. I felt lonely in amongst the small crowd. I wandered off a little to have a cigarette and all that I could think about was how sad I felt, how much I felt like escaping and how much I felt like burning.<br /><br />Anyway, the thing that I have been hiding from my blog through writing the type of posts I have lately is that I still feel like crap. I feel lost. I feel like nothing has changed since I was an adolescent. I'm still as lonely and still as non-worthy as I was then. I'm afraid that I have taken on too much with both the study and the job. I'm afraid that I will fall apart under the pressure and fail. I'm afraid that I will get overly stressed because Hubby is now on holidays for a month and he seems to constantly "joke" about how hungry he is (and that it is my responsibility to fix something for him to eat). His offhand comments on how he had managed to keep the kitchen clean when I was in hospital and how it is dirty again now I am responsible for cleaning it and further comments on what I should do over the coming days/week, grate tremendously on me. I feel like exploding, like kicking and screaming like a small child in the middle of a tantrum. Yet, it is impossible for me to get rid of these feelings without burning and without acting like a complete cranky bitch when Hubby approaches me.<br /><br />Ugh! Tell me again how life is worth living.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >Above photograph courtesy of <a style="font-size: 100%;" href="http://www.sxc.hu/index.phtml">stock.xchng</a>.</span>dissokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17522091174066106564noreply@blogger.com3