Mumblings of a Muddled Mind

I like to write about what matters to me and to raise awareness for mental health. I suffer from mental illness but that does not define who I am.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Holy Eff.

Up until Friday I have been in a program and away from home since November 4th. Didn't have much access to the Internet.

The program I was in was a medical detox for my use of clonazepam. Apparently it's a bad thing to be on that for 5 years straight and 10 years in total. Who knew. It's amazing though. I feel much brighter in the brain and my husband says I no longer look like a deer caught in headlights. I guess that's a compliment eh? lol!

I have also resumed going to AA in my time away. I forgot how important it was really. The Alcoholic in me decided that I could somehow control my drinking. HAHA, little frigger. It's really a tricky thing to deal with. I mean I was drinking way too much near the end of going into the program again. At first, when I started to drink I could have three beers and stop. It just got worse as I went on.

Now I am 100% clean and sober and I am loving it. I no longer have major anxiety issues about wondering what the hell I did the night before and I am spending way less. I am not hungover at all anymore. It makes me shake my head with wonder when I think of all the times I tortured myself with booze and how I would feel the next day.

Anyway. I am now living back in the city and my daughter is going back to her old school. She is extremely happy about this. She has some old friends in her class and she is picking up the french where she left off. Bonus.

Christmas is coming up and I have NO idea what I want nor do I know what to get people. I know what I would like to get my daughter and I do have an idea for Jobthingy and I think she may know too. lol..At least from where it will come. heh.

Speaking of which, I have begun writing reviews for a lovely website called If you are looking for ways to spice up your sex life, it's a great community and store where you can read personal reviews on products to get a better idea of what you want and if it is any good or not. It pretty much takes all of the guesswork out of buying toys blind. If you decide to place an order you can use my discount code and save 15% off your final bill. The code is: P13 and I would be greatly appretiative if you used it. :D

My dad is not doing so great unfortunately. I have no idea what is going on with him as I am getting mixed messages about his condition. He tells me that he's going to die but when I asked the nurse last night, he said that wasn't true. I was told I couldn't be told much about what is going on though because I am not power of attorney. WTF. What ever happened to being family? Anyway, I am not happy about this but I can't do anything about it apparently. He was SO messed up on the drugs they are giving him that he was hallucinating. He was also mumbling inchoherently and was saying some really weird shit. I could hardly get a straight answer out of him and it's just sad to see really.

Anyway, that is enough rambling for me right now.

Friday, October 15, 2010

I'm back!

I could not remember my stupid log in..haha I am dumb eh?
A lot has been going on since I last wrote in here. I have moved back to the city, been in hospital, gone through a crazy summer and yeayh..stuff and more stuff..anyway.

I will update more in detail later, I just wanted to actually write something in I hear an ECHO?! :P

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Wowwee..It's damn hot for May.

I am thankful for the fan I have blowing over my head and for the coolness of my house at the moment. I can hear my neighbours whiny daughter splashing in the kiddie pool outside. She has the most annoying high-pitched whine I have ever heard on a kid. I can't blame her for it entirely however because if you heard the way her mother screams and yells at those kids, you'd probably sound like that too.

I'd be in that pool right now if I had a muzzle or something-something.

We went away for the long weekend to Gordon's family cottage which actually consists of three trailers that are permanently built into three adjoining sites in a park near Parry Sound. The trip takes about five hours of driving to get there.

I was pretty excited. The weather was looking decent and ended up being really hot.

The downer was that on the way up, my daughter came down with strep throat. The poor girl! She was so looking forward to swimming and fishing and so were we. She did a whole lot of sleeping and colouring in a book instead. The hospital in Parry Sound was so freakin efficient. We were in and out of there in half an hour.

I didn't end up going swimming or fishing so she wouldn't feel left out and neither did my husband. It was pretty uneventful and laid-back.

Last week I had and appointment with a new psychiatrist. It's been a while since I have seen a proper one who didn't just push me out the door with pills and the latest trendy diagnosis. He seems to think I have long-standing PTSD (duh) and that I also suffer from something called Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). He wants to meet with me more to actually confirm this, however and so I have another apt coming up in a week. He recommended I read a book called "Sometimes I Act Crazy" ( I laughed my arse off at the title) so I went out and bought it. It's pretty damn accurate a description of me and my thought and behavioural patterns. Who knows, maybe I will finally find some answers I have been looking for all of this time. I am slightly optimistic but I kind of have trust issues with so-called medical professionals.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Cemetery Gates

Alright, this tune was absolutely written about my situation with my mom's death and all. I SWEAR Phil Anselmo had some sort of psychic dream and this song was created from it. lol
Ok, probably not as it was released before my mom's suicide but holy crap do the words ever ring true with me and what I was going through. After my mom died I don't think I went to the cemetery for years until I could finally bring myself to do so.

Reverend, reverend,
Is this a conspiracy?
Crucified for no sins
No revenge... beneath me.
Lost within my plans for life,
It all seems so unreal.
I'm a man cut in half in this world,
Left in my misery.

The reverend he turned to me
Without a tear in his eyes.
Its nothing new for him to see,
I didn't ask him why.
I will remember...
The love our souls had sworn to make.
Now I watch the falling rain
All my mind can see now is your (face).

Well I guess
You took my youth
And gave it all away.
Like the birth of a new found joy,
This love would end in rage...
And when she died
I couldn't cry,
The pride within my soul.
You left me incomplete
All alone as the memories now unfold.

Believe the word.
I will unlock my door...
And pass the cemetery gates.

Sometimes when I'm alone,
I wonder aloud,
If you're watching over me
Some place far abound.
I must reverse my life
I can't live in the past.
Then set my soul free,
Belong to me at last.

Through all those complex years,
I thought I was alone.
I didn't care to look around,
And make this world my own.
And when she died,
I should've cried and spared myself some pain.
You left me incomplete,
All alone as the memories still remain.

The way we were,
The chance to save my soul...
And my concern is now in vain.
Believe the word,
I will unlock my door,
And pass the cemetery gates

Mother's Day

Happy mother's day to all you mommas out there. It snowed last night MAY. Retarded.

Today is an interesting day for me. I spent a long time after my mother died, getting drunk as fuck or stoned on whatever so that I wouldn't feel or think during this day of celebrating mothers. I was pissed off at mine for leaving me so it was never a happy day for me.

That all changed to a degree when I found out I was going to be a mom myself. Now this day is filled with mixed emotions. Part of me still wants to partake in my old debauchery ritual but there's also a big part that actually likes mother's day now. I no longer hate my mother so I just get sad instead of angry when I think of her and all she has missed. I wish so bad that she could be here just so I could tell her that I love her very much and I never meant it when I said I hated her. It bothers me a lot that she died probably thinking that I hated her, then again I have been told that she probably knew in her heart that I was just acting out as kids often do.

I know how icky inside it made me feel when my daughter would say that she would rather go live with her father. At the time it hurt like a bitch but in retrospect, of course she wanted to live with him instead. He has very little rules at his place and she was only seeing him on weekends when it's happy funtime. I must have looked and felt like a big strict meanie for making her do her homework, making sure she was eating well, and having to punish her for bad behaviour. Oh well, when she is older, I know she will appreciate what I do. Now that I am older, I understand and appreciate the things my mother did for me that I thought was unfair at the time.

I love my daughter very much and I can only hope that I am doing a good job as a mother to her. Sometimes I think maybe I am too over protective and I really hate punishing her but I have to. Such is life and life goes on.

I miss you today my little angel, and I can't wait until you get back home from your father's place. It's lonely here without you. XOXO

Friday, May 7, 2010


Everything I touch falls apart.
I eat away at it until all that's left are gaping, painful sores.
I'm a pretty poison, people like to touch me.
I will burn them, and burn them deep.
Bottle me up and put me away somewhere dark and safe.
Tattoo me with a warning, paint me black like my soul.
Lock me up and throw away the key.
Beautiful on the outside, but seething with liquid destruction on the inside.
Don't open me up, you'll be sorry.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Awwww No Wonder!

Thanks to a lovely new uhhm, invention, I think we will be seeing a drop in the divorce rate soon enough! You know those silly husbands and their penchant for dutch-ovens is the real reason so many couples are divorced more often as of late. Couple that with the increase of fast-food consumption these days and blammo! You have a dutch-oven recipe for disaster and a fast track to divorcee land. With this newfangled bedding, you too can save your marriage from certain death by stinkage. Thank you Better Marriage Blanket.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Hi, I Am Andie

And I am an alcoholic/addict.

Yeah yeah.

I picked up another desire chip at a meeting last night.
I didn't think I was ready to quit it again but then something pops up that makes you either reconsider your position on something or forces you into reconsidering it.

I have attempted to eradicate alcohol from my life twice before and this will be my third time. They say the third time's a charm but I don't believe in that jargon so I hope for myself that I can stay committed for this third time and make it last.

One thing you learn early on is that you have to live "One Day At A Time" and that is difficult for me to do. I have been worried about the future and possible things that may or may not happen in the future, for most of my life. I used to cry at night because I couldn't sleep due to being too worried my Nanna was going to die some day or that I would make a mistake on the spelling test I was sure to ace the next day in school. I have no idea why I did and still do this. I need to learn how not to think this way and just be happy for today. I may have some loose control over events that may happen in the future such as career choices but even those are not solid. People get laid-off and fired all of the time for various reasons. So what if that happens to me? I have to stop thinking that the worst possible scenario is going to happen and just live. It's hard living this way and it's counter-productive. I can't learn to live if I don't actually try to do so in the first place.

When I was a kid my mother stayed at home with me until I was eight and then she took a course to re-certify herself in the secretarial industry. She did so well that they hired her on and then unfortunate things happened and she got laid off for very trivial reasons. She was crushed and I saw just what can happen if you choose something and then have it fail so badly for you, that you never recover and it's a catalyst to your extreme unhappiness. Yikes. Scary stuff. I suppose that might be the root of why I have not really pursued anything career-wise. I am afraid to commit to it and have it all backfire in my face. I also saw my two older cousins graduate from University both in the chemistry field and not have any job opportunities open to them afterward. I suppose that deterred me as well. What also did it was that I lost my love of academia when my mom passed away. I couldn't focus right and I was just not interested in becoming anything special any longer without my mother there to witness it. I was a people pleaser at a young age. I loved to see how proud my mother was of me as she devoted her entire life to me while neglecting her own and I also liked the positive attention it brought with it.

I had not planned on going back to meetings so soon. I was still to pissed off at myself and proud to admit that I had screwed up my sobriety yet again, but like I said, sometimes things just happen and force you into facing your bullshit. My friend is approaching her one year (yay! I am very proud of her) and she was asked to speak at an open-speaker meeting last night. She was absolutely dreading doing it but I guess she knew one day she'd have to get it over with so she agreed. I messaged her the other day and she told me she was speaking at the meeting and I told her I wanted to go to be there for her. I know I would want the same as I am very afraid of speaking in public but more so when it has to do with a lot of personal baggage and failure. So I went and I realised I had missed it a great lot. I grabbed my chip and got a bunch of congratulatory handshakes at the end. My friend had nothing to worry about because she did a great job of speaking; she was to the point and she story was inspiring, so I have no idea why she worked herself up so before the meeting (oh wait, yes I do!). Now what I need to do is find a sponsor who lives close to me and actually work with the program instead of half-assing it like I did last time.

Being completely sober scares me. I don't know how to do it for long periods of time. If it's not the booze, it's something else. Mostly smoking herb but the kicker with that is that it actually helps my IBS a freakin' tonne. I have tried the other methods of getting the pain to stop when I have an attack but that always helps me. The problem with that is, because I seem to have an addictive personality and a hate-on for living completely sober, I tend to want to smoke more than I actually need to help me. I am just going to have to suck it up and deal with the pain because smoking too much makes me very unmotivated. It also makes me feel like I am cheating when I go to meetings and claim to be sober. I am at the meetings but that doesn't mean I haven't smoked after them. That totally defeats the purpose of working the program to the fullest, I think.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Physio and the Mega-Bitch

I had my first physiotherapy session today for my jaw. Luck would have it that I was scheduled with the owner of the clinic because when I explained to her what an awful state my current financial situation is in, she lowered the price of my treatments!

I had acupuncture for the first time. It was interesting. I had explained to her that I have an existing anxiety condition and so she seemed to be worried that sticking needles in me would cause me some anxiety. She obviously missed my upguaged ears and my labret piercing.. heh.
The only time I am afraid of needles, is when I am being injected with something. I don't mind giving blood, that's no problem, but I hate the creepy feeling of knowing something is coursing through my system that would not otherwise be found there naturally.

So, no problem with the acupuncture ones. They are really tiny, in fact.

I have not really noticed anything significant after having it done but I do have another appointment on Monday for some more puncturing. Funtimes. While I was left lying there I was scrunching up my nose because I had one stuck right above my nose bridge and it was moving funnily from side to side as I would do so. Ok, I was pretty bored lying there, I admit it.
She told me to relax but it was hard what with the giggling lady who had to announce she was going for a pee in the middle of her treatments and the din of multiple conversations between therapist and patient all around me, but hey, I tried.

Other than that, my life is rather boring.

I went to my best friend's birthday shindig on Saturday night. It was fun, the cool peeps and I had a kitchen party. There were a bunch of people there, thankfully I knew a good handful otherwise I may have just left due to Mega-Bitch. I have no idea what her problem is with me as I have never done anything to her but she seems to like to give me dirty looks a lot. I am thinking maybe it's because even though I am 6 years older than she, I look at least 6 years younger. She's that type of girl who needs to eat as she is grossly skinny and has zero fat in her face making her look haggard and old. I suppose she could be pretty if she was not scowling 90 percent of the time and maybe if she would eat something. I think she might also be guilty of over-tanning herself as she definitely has leatherface. I don't know. I just know that she annoys me and one of these times I will be forced to go up to her and ask her what the hell her problem is. I feel bad for her new husband, really. He is such a nice guy, super funny too. She comes off as a mega-princess and very high maintenance. Poor Chris.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

The Hurts..Why I have been Absent..

I have not been posting as of late due to not feeling well. Last week I was in emergency three different times. On Tuesday I got sent home with instructions on how to get better and a bottle of Lactulose. It is a laxative. Basically I was superbly bunged up and not able to "release the hounds" on my own. I know, lovely eh?

The crap didn't do diddly squat so now in much more pain, I went to emerg here in my small town yet again the next day. This time they took an x-ray, told me in doctor-speak that I was full of shit (like I didn't know this already..haha) and sent me home with more meds; meds I didn't even need. I sufferd through the pain until Friday when I could no longer handle it and not to mention I had an MRI at a hospital in the city at 4:30pm that day and was not able to lay flat on my back to do so.

I went into emerg and they took another x-ray, told me once again I was full of shit, literally, and pumped my full of painkillers via IV so I could make my MRI which was for my sciatic nerve pain in my hip. Speaking of which, that is what started this all, or made complications worse. It was the percocets I was taking that had made it impossible for me to go. Couple that with my IBS, the fact that I wasn't eating right because I was in an "I hate my body and so therefor I hate food and wont eat much" disposition and blamo, you have a recipe for disaster and a LOT of pain.

After my MRI they sent me back to the emerg department to fix my problem. Not going to get into how. The evil part about this is that I was told by the hospital here in town that due to the fact that they don't have any good diagnostic equipment, I should go into the city if I didn't get the answer that I needed. Well, retards, they gave my the SAME DAMN TEST there too, and they seemed to think it serious enough to fix it for me. AHHHH.

I have been gradually getting much better and I am no longer bunged. I never thought it would be such a joy to go to the bathroom on my own but hey, you learn something new every day. So, to sum it up, I really hope that I never have anything more serious and have to go into the hospital here in town again because they seem to like to send you home with copious amounts of medications instead of trying to help you.

Due to the fact that I can't take the percocets for the pain, my hip is bothering my more so now and my TMJ (which I have a CT scheduled for) is acting up like crazy. I figure it's because of the amount of pain I was in so therefor I was clenching my jaw a lot. It could also be because I was on anti-anxiety meds but have now been off them for good for a while now. Supposedly they help with TMJ too. Basically, I am falling apart.

I spent a few nights crying myself to sleep because I was fed up with all of this and I just want to feel healthy again.

I need to get back into swimming for exercise. Seems to me that it would be the least painful way to go about getting more fit at this time.
I also have a Physio appointment set up for my TMJ to learn how to deal with it when it gets really bad.

Friday, April 2, 2010

No More Nails! :D

Ahhhh..this is gold.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

A Recipe For Breaks

Oh..haha I laughed my arse off when I watched this this morning.
This guy is my new hero for the day.


The Wedding DJ

A friend of mine who is living in Vancouver now has taken up a new career which has me thinking. It's ok, this isn't the dangerous thinking I am prone to. She has been DJing for quite some time now and plays mostly drum and bass but today I found out she's also doing weddings.
I think I might do this myself. We have a nice set-up here for CDJs so I totally have the resources right here. I am not a huge fan of DJing CDs but if it makes me some cash, why the heck not?
I own real turntables and a mixer myself but there is currently no space in my house full of crap for them. I'm kind of sad about this because I much prefer vinyl for the sound and feel. I like to frig around with cut n scratch techniques and that's not happening on the CDJs.

That is ok however because I don't think that style of record playing is big in the wedding industry. Maybe if I were DJing ghetto weddings in Detroit or something...(yeah right)

The only problem is finding music. It's probably pretty costly to build a repertoire of music commonly played at weddings, but I could do it. These days it's easy enough to download single tunes which is what I would be doing. That is going to drive me nuts as I usually like to grab full albums for my collection but to be honest, a lot of wedding music sucks ass! It's just not my thing.

Oh gosh. What if I get hired to play a country wedding? That would be a horrorshow for me! Maybe I'll stipulate that I don;t have a vast collection of cow music...yes, that would be a good idea. :D

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

A Horse, Of Course!

So, yeah..this is pretty interesting. I have attempted to make horse noises and have failed miserably. I am great at monkey noises though. Maybe some day, I will audition for a show and incorporate monkey noises into my song.

Bitch even LOOKS like a horse!

I Want An Edumacation!

I want to go to University. I do NOT want to go to University here in Ottawa. I hate Ottawa. It's not just the people here who tend to be pretentious government fucks but it's also the city itself. I just read that they are hiking the bus fare up to $3.25! Can you believe that?!

Oc Transpo has THE shittiest service in all of Canada and it's also the most expensive. Not to mention that the drivers have no problem striking over !!Christmas time!! and I know far too many people who lost their jobs as a result of said strike. I read a facebook group today that is proposing that the riders should protest this hike in fare and strike themselves.

There's one problem..Ottawans don't give a rat's ass whether they are being fucked up their own! I have seen it time and time again. People here sure like to talk about taking a stand but when it comes down to it, they are lazy and most don't even come from here to begin with. That is due to the fact that it's a mecca for government employees and thre are a lot of immigrants. I think I may want to move out to BC finally!

I am trying to convince the hubby. I have wanted to go since I was 17 and I am feeling rather selfish, so heck, I just might do it!
That would mean moving Lilli away from her dad but we can work out trading school years and summers.
It would also mean that I would move away from my family, but they didn't seem too concerned about me when I was trying to stay around for my Nanna's sake. So fuck em. My uncle just up and left, and didn't help with anything after my mom died and until my grandpa died when I was 22. He's living back here now so I think I'll just let them fend for themselves now. Who am I kidding? He's not even helping now. He's helping himself just fine though.

This feels so empowering, to make my own decision and not really worry my pretty little head off if everyone will be ok with the aftermath. You get what you give, I gave a lot, it's your turn now.

Exciting times. I don't know how many people have told me I belong in BC. When I go there, I feel at home. They also have a forensics program out there...that would be kick ass. I have looked into it and it's the best one in Canada. I think Toronto is the next option, which is out of the question.. I dislike Toronto possibly more so than I do Ottawa..LOL
Actually, I don't think it's Toronto either. All of Ontario is pretty lame.

At least Toronto has a decent transit system though. ...

Random Late Night Ramblings...

I can't sleep tonight. My cramps this month are extra painful and I can't sleep well when I am in pain. I kept waking up and moving around in bed a bunch so I thought instead of waking my poor husband up all night, I would come down here and babble.

Right now I am trying to come to terms with the fact that a lot of the people I thought were friends of mine are really nothing but old drinking/partying buddies. I'm not sure if they ever really cared for me in the first place or not. I know I was a hoot to party with, that's for sure. It seems that once I got sober, they lost interest in me.

I am also realising that I am not as interested in what some of these people are into or up to any longer. I think they are shallow and gossip mongers. There was a time where I would hang out in a certain forum and chat with a bunch of girls from around here. Most often than not, conversations would turn into a big bitch-fest about so and so and how "messed up in the head" they were, or just plain old rumours would be spread. It was pretty much like trying to fit into an elite social club in high school. I never felt the need to do that then, so why did I feel that need a few years ago? I am sure when I left that evil website and deleted some of these girls off my facebook, I became that "messed up in the head" girl. Ahh well. It's a good way to weed out the bad friends!

I think it may have been a case of the low self esteems. I used to be fairly confident, I think. I mean I had body image issues but I was pretty confident that I was worthy of being friended. Actually, I didn't give a flying fuck about most people whom I did not already know and if they liked me, bonus, if not, fuck em. That was before I turned 20 however.

I think I may also have burned some bridges by not trying to be a good friend to some. It wasn't that I didn't care, because I love my close friends and those with whom I connect really well, it was that I got lazy and/or drunk. I'm also not the biggest phone person nor was I able to take public transit for a while due to anxiety and panic issues surrounding that. I guess it sort of limited me and I was too proud to admit it before it was too late with some.

C'est la vie, I suppose!

What matters most is that I do have a select group of friends that I feel comfortable enough talking to about my problems with and really, I don't have the time to keep up appearances with all of the people I once hang out with.

I am pretty lucky to have friends who stuck with me through thick and thin.

I love you guys.


Friday, March 26, 2010


That makes me sound old, doesn't it?

I seem to have fucked up my sciatic nerve on the left side of my hip. It hurts really badly if I'm standing for a long time or sitting in a seat with raised edges. I am currently taking Percocet for it and boy oh boy do they make me loopy! I have to be really careful with these though, as I don't want to become addicted to them. I just love having an addictive personality. It makes everything I do that much harder. I have to think about things like how much is too much? Is my tolerance high already because I have done so many drugs in the past? Will this amount harm me more in the long-run, or is it worth not having to suffer from pain?

The best part of this whole situation is that it happened to me while I was shovelling the damn heavy, wet snow we had last and I was out there doing so because my hubby had a job interview and I didn't want him to mess up HIS back before he left!

It didn't start in the hip, however. I started to feel bad back pain as if I had pulled the muscles in my lower back and then went bowling the night after. My back was sore but not my hip while I was bowling. It took about a week for the hip pain to show up. Now my back feels peachy keen but I can't shake this hip problem.

I saw a nurse practitioner at my Doc's office about it and she ordered x-rays and an MRI. The x-rays were negative and I was told that it may take quite a while for this to heal and that I should be going to physiotherapy.

So far I have called about six places and none of them are covered by our public healthcare (OHIP) and I am piss-poor broke. I guess it's not in the cards for me to get the help I need right away. Or at all for that matter; it's not like money is going to magically appear on that stupid money tree we have in the living room. What a misleading name for a plant, I tell ya!

So for now, I get to be loopy.

Needless to say, this is putting a cramp in my bowling style, man. I was just starting to get back into bowling and this damn hip thing has to go and fuck with it. How am I ever going to make bowling cool again if I can't even go out and play it?!

Ahhh back to Wii bowling for me I suppose! I have mastered the "too lazy to even get off the couch" bowling moves. That's right, I am a couch potato bowler now. I am badass.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Bahh bahh Black Sheep

Am I THAT embarrassing or something? Not fun to be around?
I must be.

Excuse me while I go graze in another field so you don't have to put up with me.

Monday, March 22, 2010

This Guy is SERIOUS!!

Oh man..I think I just found the funniest shit ever.

I know what I'll be doing this summer while I learn how to drive..

I'll be going DOOM DOOM DOOM... BOOM, BOOM.

Here is his website in case you think I'm joking about him being serious. Please listen to track number 8. "God'll Make You Clap" while you are there. Your life will never be the same. :P

Click here to Cruise like Christ

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Avoiding Dad

I reckon that I am pretty much the master of avoidance. It's quite simple to do, especially if there are feelings involved. My relationship with my father is a strange one, that's for certain. He seems to want to love me to the best of his ability (it's an odd thing, his love) and I seem to want to avoid being loved and also all of the hurtful feelings that surround the man who is my father.

When I was young and living with my mother, I was not allowed to see him. It was her decision because he was a biker (BADMAN!!) and I guess he wasn't shaping up to her standards after she became impregnated with me. I have to wonder however, how she justified being with such a person if she was so opposed to having him in my life after my birth. Apparently he lived with us until I was 2 when my mom had decided she'd had enough of his biker ways. After that he was sent away and told to never try and see me.

I spent a lot of time as a child wondering who my father was and why he wasn't around. I got some very flimsy excuses from my mother but never the truth. The truth being that she had "banned" him from seeing me. I was told she didn't know where he was all the while he was living within a 1 km radius of my apartment. I recall running into him at the grocery store when I was very young, he spoke to my mother and I remember after, asking her who he was and she told me it was my father. She did more harm than good by banishing him from my life. My childhood was spent very angry and frustrated. I took a lot of tantrums and I cried a lot about the father I never had.

I felt it was my fault somehow that he didn't want to see me. I must have been a bad girl; not worth loving enough to stick around or even to try to contact me or have visits every now and then. I was just an accident. One that was not supposed to bind this man and woman together for the duration of my life. I was told that he didn't want anything to do with me and of course, I believed my mother. I would find out later, after she passed away, that this was not quite the case. Or was it?

I overheard my grandmother and my mother talking one night after they had a few drinks in them. I was over at my grandparent's house and I awoke at some point in the night after being asleep for a while to use the washroom. I could hear some arguing going on downstairs and so I eavesdropped on them, as most curious children often do. I found out a couple of things that night as I listened from the top of the stairs. I found out that I was a mistake, that I was a bastard. I also heard that he raped my mother and that's how I came to be. I heard my Nanna asking my mother if she ever planned on telling me the truth about what happened. I suppose it was to quell the beast within myself by telling me that my father was a really bad man. My mother never told me. I kept these secrets locked away in a safe place in my mind. To this day, I don't know if the rape story is true but I am a bastard. This I know all too well.

After my mother passed I became very angry with her for keeping me all to herself and not at least allowing supervised visits or something, anything! Then I tried living with him out in Alberta but that failed for reasons already stated in this blog. It wasn't until I attended a 10 day super-intensive personal retreat that I realised that it was not just my mom who was to blame.

The retreat I attended was one in which the focus is placed on your parents and the traits you either a) adopt from them or b) adopt but rebel against with in the first 12 years of your life. The mission of this organisation is to allow you to recognise these traits and free yourself from them as they are your parent's and not yours. It's objective is to stop the never-ending cycle/vicious circle that supposedly rules our lives without us being aware. Well, it worked alright. It worked too good. It opened up a whole new can of anger and sadness that I didn't want to admit existed in me.

I was sent there by my request via my grandmother as it costs a pretty penny and I could not afford the fee at the time. I was going there with the intention of finally forgiving my mother and letting go of all of the pain that surrounded her and her death. My main focus was to be on my mother. We were asked questions in a questionnaire before our arrival so they could assess and tailor your treatment as best as they could. I answered most of the ones concerning my mother but since my father was not in my life as a child I didn't think it relevant to answer all of the questions concerning him as he as he was not in my life when I was young, nor could I as I did not have the answers.

It was about half-way through the course when we started to focus on our fathers that I snapped. We were doing some cathartic work by bashing wiffle bats onto a large pillow while focusing on the negative traits. Oh it worked. It worked too well. I was bashing away at the cue cards with the traits written on them when "abandoning" came up as one of his traits. I started to bash the SHIT out of that thing. I mean, I was having a blast hitting things and all and when I was doing the ones for my mother, I was more sad than angry. I started yelling at the damn pillow (aka my father) and I cried and yelled for quite some time.

Up until this point, I had completely put all of the blame on my mother for his behaviour, or lack thereof because that was easier. It was much easier to think that she had told him that she'd kill him if he should try and contact me or have visits when I was young. He had done the same thing himself while I was living with him, he put all the blame on my mother saying that there was nothing he could do but respect her wishes.

I'm sorry, but if you love your child as one should love a child, there is nothing that can stop one from seeing said child. Why didn't my father take her to court? Why didn't he try and sneak visits in with me when he knew the park I played at almost 24/7? He only lived about 4 blocks away from the damn park! This realisation hit me like a tonne of bricks. I was so upset and angry at my mother for abandoning me when my father did exactly that, only when I was 2. So now I firmly had two parents who abandoned me only it took a lot of thinking that I didn't want to do to bring it out of me. All along I knew this, for I am not naive, nor am I dull. I'm pretty sharp and always was, so I would pick up on things that other children didn't. I was just also VERY good at blocking things out of my mind that hurt too bad. Who am I kidding, I'm still a master of that!

The good news is that I came out of the retreat having forgiven my mother for what she did. I had found compassion for her and I was able to take a good long look into what she had become as a result of learning behaviours or rebelling against them from the grandparents. I could no longer blame her for what she did. I still get quite sad because she abandoned me but I no longer hate her. I no longer have the penchant for violence I once had due to all of that anger regarding my mother.

I have a whole new ballgame to deal with now as I was not quite able to forgive my father the way I was able to do with my mother. I wasn't intending on finding anything that would make it about my father in the first place. Unfortunately, I did.

Now my father is slowly dying of his own accord. He has late-onset diabetes and he's lost a leg and four fingers thus far as he doesn't seem to give a flying fuck enough to quit drinking or smoking cigarettes which is what is taking his life away so quickly. He doesn't eat right at all either. I figured after losing a leg that he would smarten up and take better care of himself. I was wrong. Next went the fingers. Now he's riddled with pain and sores that wont heal. I am watching my father die and I am still angry with him for not being in my life when I was a child, when I needed him most.

I don't know how to relate to him as I should. I have a weird thing about men. I suppose it stems from not having them in my life at all (with the exception of my grandfather who tried his best but was pretty anti-social/anti-emotional) when I was growing up.

He gets mad at me for not calling him, yet he doesn't really call me either. He rarely remembers to call on my birthday and I can count on one hand the gifts he's given me for xmas and birthdays whereas I get him gifts all of the time. It's not really about the gifts though, just the thought. It would be nice to know you are thought about other than when you call and get in shit for not calling often enough..

The reason why I don't call as much as I should is because I have given up on him getting better and now he's dying. I don't like dying; death. I don't do well with it at all for obvious reasons. So now I am trying to avoid him as much as I can because if I should have that talk with him and forgive him, it will be that much worse when he does die. I will lose my only living parent and I don't know if I could handle the pain of losing someone I really, truly love again.

I seem to be doing the same with my grandmother whom I love to death... but that's another story. I feel awful about it, but I don't want to die myself. I can only fight myself off from ending it all so many times before it actually happens. When my grandfather passed I couldn't even go to the hospital to say goodbye. I regret it now immensely but there's nothing I can do to change what happened there. I went out after he passed and got SO fucking drunk and then I popped a bunch of ecstasy and truth be told, I hoped I would not wake up. I did wake up however, and my daughter was conceived a month later.

Sorry Dad, nothing TOO personal... :/

Friday, March 12, 2010

Old Man Crush

Have you ever been oddly attracted to a man who could be your father but who may also be old enough, had he had kids early and they had kids early, to be your grandfather?

I have.

His name is Patrick Stewart.

I'm sorry, SIR Patrick Stewart who's claim to fame would have to be Star Trek the Next Generation.
I remember when the show first started, my mother was very excited because she was an original ST junkie and I was excited because one of my little girl crushes was due to star on the show as Ensign Wesley Crusher (an apt name if you ask me) and man was he ever so sexy playing an uber geek!

At first, I didn't think anything of the new captain of the Starship Enterprise much. He seemed befitting enough. He was level-headed for the most part and wasn't always going around chasing oddly-coloured alien tail a la William Shatner.

As I continued to watch the show religiously with my mother, I began to develop my old man crush and with that, my little girl crush faded into the background. His accent was alluring, he drank tea but remained very masculine whist doing so and all he had to do was utter one single word and everyone would comply. Damn that is hot.

Sir Stewart as he is now called due to being knighted by the Queen of England, started his career mostly in theatre with some minor roles in movies. After Star Trek he would go on to star in quite a few leading or main roles in films such as the X-Men and Masterminds. He also seems to have a penchant for Shakespeare.

I think Sir Stewart is a smart man. He seems to be dating a woman who is younger than his daughter (who is my age coincidentally) and claims that he "doesn't meet women of his own age...". I am pretty certain that that translates from "Sir-talk" into English as: "Women my age are all raisinesque and aren't nearly as flexible (in bed)". Translations like these are easy to make when you are a woman.

He appeared on an episode of Extras with Ricky Gervais and his character on the show has quite the fascination with naked women. Gervais is a lowly extra in a film they are shooting and tries to present a script for a movie to Sir Stewart in hopes that he will make it big in the movie industry. Sir Stewart reads it and keeps asking him questions like "Ok, fine story indeed! But will there be any you know, naked women in the film?" To which Gervais replies that there wont. Stewart insists that there should be some form of nakedness and keeps obsessing about it through the whole show. I laughed my keister off!

All I know is that if I were his girlfriend, he'd have to don his Captain uniform and order me to "Engage".

I particularly like the way he's straddling the bar in this photo:

He also looks pensive and like he means business.

Do you figure he likes to spank or be spanked?
I hope it's the former otherwise my old man crush may very well just fizzle out and die.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Eyes no more.

New eyes
Just a dream
New eyes
So I can be me

Fumbling in the lightness
Headaches that make me ill

My dream of new eyes
Was not at all real

New eyes
New eyes.


Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Lil Miss Makeup

Does anyone else remember this bitch?

I was so excited when my mom agreed to buy her for me! Wow, that's magic! Hey, I was only 10. I loved that doll to death. Literally. I Had to throw her out because she no longer had hair..(I went through a hairdresser on my dolls phase) but she sure did make me want to wear make-up!
I think by the age of 10 I had some of my own stuff. The only problem was, that when I applied it, it looked NOTHING like the doll's perfectly placed magic make-up. Oh no, I looked like a whore trying to apply make-up after smoking a few rocks. I thought it made me look sexy. HA!

As I got older I stopped using the backs and bright red lipsticks. I decided I liked make-up but I wanted a natural look so from the ages of about 15-20 I only wore browns. Brown eyeliner, brown eyeshadow and brown lipstick if I wasn't wearing my gloss. I had a slight addiction to pot lip gloss during my teens.

I have a new obsession with liquid eyeliner lately. I used to have a couple of bottles when I was 14 but back then I was not as skilled with make-up so it always looked like shit. I ended up using them to draw on my walls when I lived with my Dad in Alberta. He was not impressed.

The photo on the top is my eyes lined on the top and bottom lids as I was going for a classic pin-up look and the one under it are lined only on the bottom with some darker brown eyeshadow. I was going for an Egyptian look in the second photo.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Constantly on the move

Last night I was up in my bathroom having a conversation with my cat, Cartman. He responds after I end a sentence so stop laughing already. Anyway, I was babbling about how old he is getting and how he's been through a lot with me. That is when I said "Wow, Carts, you are such a well-adjusted cat for having moved a bunch of different places in your short life." and then I thought "Shit, I have been around longer and in just as many plus more!" I tried to count the number of places. I lived in one spot until I was 8 and then mom and I moved to another neighbourhood and we moved once within it.

That was pretty stable right?
After my mom died I moved in with my aunt and they tried to make it nice for me. They painted it green and purple for me because they were my favourite colours and tried to have me live with them. I stayed at the same school so I could finish grade 8 and it was a long bus ride away. Not only that but I was jealous of her kids for having both parents still alive and together. I was miserable and I didn't want to see happiness I suppose.

I tried moving in with my grandparents after my aunt's place but it didn't go so well. It was a horrible mess, actually. I was angry and they liked to drink. It was a bad combination at the time. They sent me off to live in the Children's Aid Society and I was put into a group home that was co-ed and on a level system. I did not get past level 3 which was the entry level. I was a "problem child" with no counseling at the time and the staff were young and antagonistic. I ended up living on the streets for a while as a result.

After getting picked up by the police numerous times for being AWOL (like I was in some angsty teen army or something)I was threatened with a teen detention center. My grandparents took me back in so I wouldn't have to go there. It didn't work out again (surprise, they were still drinking and I was still angry!) so they sent me to another group home. This time I lucked out and it was all female and it was run by a lovely group of women. I felt cared for there and as if it were a family most of the time, so I was happy.

That is when my dad found out what had happened with my mom and contacted CAS. I had only met him once through an old friend of mine who's mother knew him. He was living in northern Alberta at the time and the CAS offered to fly me out there to see if I wanted to live with him. I arrived out there with my worker and I was so nervous I greeted him with "Oh! Hi! You look like you are pregnant with triplets!"
Luckily for me, he had a sense of humour about his belly. Things went well for a while and my worker deemed it to be fit so I moved in. I lasted six months. I made some awesome friends and was pretty damn popular out there but I seemed to have inherited my father's temper resulting in some interesting moments.

I moved back here to Ontario and back in with my grandparents. They had stopped drinking so much and I was being drugged so I was subdued and zombified. I was not totally innocent either as I was doing a lot of shrooms, lsd and smoking a lot of pot. I lasted there until I was 17 and then I started moving from place to place like crazy.

I think I was just so lost and trying to find "home" that I felt the constant need to move. Always out of place. Little did I know that "home" was in my head. I had my own room in a rooming house at first. After that I had a roommate and we lived in two different apartments. We had a falling out so I moved in with her mother (yes, I know that sounds weird but that's another story)and that is where Cartman was born.I then moved in with my father again who was now back in Ontario.

I lived there with him for a while and decided to get my own place down the street from him. I was trading places with his current girlfriend so she could live with him and I would have my own place for when my ex-fiance was moving back to Canada.

I didn't like it there for whatever reason so I moved to another place a little further away, closer to chinatown. In hindsight it was a good move because the building I was in prior, burned to the ground about 8 months after I moved!

Things did not work out with that guy from Poland and so I moved in with my best friend who wanted to live in the city as she was from the country. We lived together for a year or so and then she wanted to move to Montreal so I was left to find a replacement roommate. That was hell. I ended up moving back in with my grandparents after that for a while to help them out and so I could work and go to school. I was working at the time but never made it into school. My Grandpa died and my Nanna sold the house.

I was pregnant at the time and had nowhere to go. We found this home for pregnant young and troubled women and teens and they accepted me into the home. I was living in a group home all over again only this time, it was hormonal and stinky! Cartman would go on to live at my dad's place until I found my own, which I did.

I got an apartment with my daughter's father but I didn't like that it was only a one bedroom so I put myself on a waiting list for a two bedroom should one come up in the building. Priority was given to families and we counted as that so we moved again but within the same building.

He and I broke up and I moved back to my old neighbourhood around where I went to high school and where the grandparent's house used to be. I thought I would feel more like I was at home. Whatever that meant.
I ended up staying there for four years! I guess I had found my "home". I was also trying to consciously make it my home because I had my daughter to look after now and she needed stability. I was able to provide her with that at least.

I have since moved out of the stinkin' city and into a small town about 40 minutes from the downtown core. I absolutely love it out here but unfortunately, the house we are in right now is not working for us at all. We have a lovely slumlord who knows that there are exposed wires in the walls and floors because rats and/or squirrels (who knows maybe they are mutant rodents for fuck's sake, they sure are loud enough) are chewing them. He doesn't fix anything right the first time but tries to go about the cheap route, which of course never works out! He's pretty damn hot for a guy but he has zero happening upstairs, if you know what I mean. He also likes to go back on his word about things, often. It's time for another move folks!

The good thing about moving this many times is that I have gotten rid of a lot of clutter. If I hadn't moved all of those times, you would be watching me star in an episode of "Hoarders" instead of reading my drivel.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Do You Compute?

I think at some point this weekend I might hole myself up in a room and write. There is something about the pen and paper that inspires me more so than typing on a computer. It feels more real to me I suppose.

I used to do this a lot when I lived on my own by myself or when I had my own room at the g'rent's place. I'd hang out by myself for hours,listening to music, burning incense and candles and just writing whatever popped into my head at the time. I found it very cathartic.

I think it may also be due to my slight aversion to computers. Yeah I know that sounds ridiculous coming from me, right? Maybe not so much. I like the knowledge aspect and the sociability the Internet gives but other than that, I don't much care for them.
I can install new hardware and software and set up a network. I just really dislike doing so.

When I was a child I was a bit of a whiz with computers. My mother bought us a Commodore 64 when I was young and I played on it quite a lot. I used them happily until my mother died.
She spent so much time trying to "upgrade her skills" (and by that I mean locking herself in her bedroom and drinking a lot of beer in front of the computer) in the end that I grew to loathe them and I have just never really became super excited by them ever since.

I just might be the only one on my Mother's side of the family who is not using computers as a career or for their career. I prefer to make art. With my hands. I think that's why I love making stained glass so much. My workbench is a disaster right now. I need to organise it once again so it's easier to work on.

I am sure there are some fun video games on the PC but I don't really care. I play console. I really love the idea of Photoshop as I love photography but I still haven't been bothered enough to care to look at it. There is a copy here if I wish to, however.

I suppose they just strike me as cold and impersonal and when I write creatively, I want to feel close to my work. I'm pretty sure this will not make sense to some people. *laugh*

I also like to doodle on the paper! :D

So, hopefully I will have something new after this weekend.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Oh happy day

I was frigging around on my favourite social networking site today and I saw one of my friends had marked her attendance for a show. It's rather coincidental that I posted a DK video the other night as that is who is coming to town!

Ok, not exactly. The Dead Kennedys broke up in the eighties and I was too young to ever get to see them as a band live. The band and the lead singer Jello Biafra have had a rather large falling out over rights to the music so they will never be together as one again. It's Jello and his new band who will be performing some of their stuff and some DK oldies! I am too freaking excited. I think I might pee my pants.

Back in high school I would get sent home for wearing DK shirts often. I was all for freedom of speech but apparently as a teen foul language is frowned upon. What bullshit is that anyway? We all know teens are the WORST offenders of using excess bad language. It's rebellion time! A time to express ourselves in ways we couldn't before.

The one time it really bothered me was when I wore my Nazi Punks Fuck Off shirt.

There were known Aryan racists at my school who wore white laces in their Doc Martens and red suspenders; I chose multi-coloured ones myself. I am totally opposed to that sort of bigotry and always was. I was asked to leave school property for wearing a swear word on my shirt yet again. This time, I explained to them what I explained above about the blatant (blatant if you were a youth in the 90s) markings of white supremacy that these brainwashed sheep were sporting and that I was trying to make a counter-statement to them. The teachers looked at me like I had three eyes and told me to go home. FAIL!

Well, it wasn't a total fail. They got the message clear. I was never a quiet one in school, that's for certain. I always made a fuss and used my voice to stand up for what I believed in.

Anyhoo, that's about that for now..dinner is ready.
Exciting times!

Monday, March 1, 2010

Something I wrote a while ago...

Innocence Lost

my heart goes
it feels low
I can't see
oh pity me

when I was young
the world so bright
so full of things
to my delight

it seems too far
I want more
this heart of mine
in my own mind

when I was young
the world so bright
so full of things
to my delight

the times with you
of skies so blue
where have you gone
where do I belong?

when I was young
the world so bright
so full of things
to my delight

I can't brain tonight, I have the dumb.

So here's a song:

I love J.E.L.L.O.

Friday, February 26, 2010

"Hey kids, want some drugs? They will make you feel good."

You probably get a mental image of a thugged-out guy standing outside of an elementary school trying to sell his crack to children. It's sad, this does happen.

What is even sadder, is a trusted member of the medical community pushing drugs on children who really only need counseling.

I have written a couple of times about this adolescent psychiatrist I was referred to after my mom died. She is absolutely 100% guilty of this behaviour.

I was curious to see if she was still in practice or if any lawsuits had come up concerning her so I googled her name.

I found a few listings so it appears that yes, she is still in practice. I have no idea how for I can't imagine that she only treated me with no regard to my mental health, but she is there.

I almost spit out my drink when I read her new title:

Lena, Dr. S. M.
Pediatrician and Adolescent Medicine Specialist, Clinic For Adolescents

Oh NO SHIT. I suppose she's finally caved and made it clear that she makes a LOT of money off the pharmaceutical companies to push her hardcore mind-altering drugs on children. At least, that is what I am reading from that description.

Really I think she should call herself DR. S&M "I'llfuckyourbraingood" Lena.

I saw a listing for her on a site called weblocal. It's a site for listing local businesses, stores and services. I noticed that someone had taken the time to write a review of their experience with Dr. S M Lena.

Here is the link:


The review is at the bottom...sounds eerily familiar does it not?

Sometimes the people you should be able to trust, those who have taken the Hippocratic Oath for fucks sake, who have sworn to practice ethical medicine are not to be trusted at all. Please research drugs and their side effects before blindly taking them and hoping they will cure everything. For that is what this doctor promotes and I think it's sick and unforgivable.

You might as well send your child to the local crack dealer because that is about as much help as you will get from this bitch.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Stop..the tingling already!!

Sometimes I feel like this.

Click on link above but you may not want the sound too loud..? heh.

I blame that on antidepressants. More specifically the SSRI variety.
After my mom died I was pretty fucked up. I'm sure anyone would be, having discovered their only parent dead from suicide. DUH. I was put on SSRIs at the age of 14, one year after my mother's death.

I was angry, upset, confused. I felt guilty about the whole situation. The night she died, I was downstairs in the basement after having snuck in a boy *gasp* who lived too far away to walk at the time, so I offered for him to come and sneak into my place and have the basement bed. I got home after the party, went upstairs to where the bedrooms were and knocked on mom's door and said "Hey, I am home." It was around midnight and I was 13..Not cool but whatever. Teens do stupid things all of the time. Her words were "Ok."

Those were the last words we spoke to each other.

I went back downstairs to the basement where the boy was and he asked if I would stay down there with him. I was feeling rather rebellious and I said yes. I was still a virgin and remained one after that night.

Somewhere around 2am (according to the coroner's report) my mother fell out of her computer chair and onto the floor, she then proceeded to choke on her own vomit. Sleeping pills, booze and depression don't mix apparently. Who knew? If only I had slept upstairs in my room, maybe I could have saved her.

The next morning I woke up, walked the boy to the store and then walked home. It was getting late and there was no sound from my mother's room, her door was still locked and I figured she was passed out cold from a hangover. It would not have been the first time. I took a hanger and poked it into her door-handle lock around noon. I figured I had had enough of her boozy behaviour and it was time to get up and be a mother. I was instantly changed forever when I opened the door and found her lying on the floor as I described above.

At first it was disbelief but I knew in the back of my mind that things were not right. She was blue and stiff. I tried to wake her up but I knew that was not going to happen. I went downstairs to grab the phone and called my Nanna. I told her that mom was dead, she didn't really understand me because I was in hysterics and so she called 911 for me. I didn't bother because I knew they couldn't do anything.

I was in my house alone with my dead mom and finally the police arrived. I answered the door and let them in. They went upstairs to check out the situation. It was pretty grim I suppose, because as I was standing at the bottom of the stairs I could hear one of them say that "She is a goner." One cop noticed this as proceeded to lead me outside of my place. "Where's your father?" "I don't know, I am not allowed to see him." "Oh, well, hopefully your family will show up soon." Yeah, hopefully.

Until then I stood on my front doorstep, surrounded by ambulance, police and fire workers and of course, the whole neighbourhood. What a spectacle I must have been! I was living in a suburb full of packed together prefab houses so there was quite the crowd. Thankfully, one of the neighbours just picked me up and carried me to her house and put me in bed. I was a bawling mess and in shock.

So, funtimes.

After what happened I was sent to a psychiatrist at the hospital in order to make some sense out of what I was feeling and what happened. I didn't really feel like being open, nor did I know how to because I learned from the best, my mother, how to bottle things up and not share feelings. That doctor didn't last.

I ended up living with my father for the first time in my life who was living in Alberta at the time. The CAS flew me out there and I stayed because I thought anything must be better than living in a group home full of fuck-ups.
I only lasted six months with him as we didn't know each other, I was a wreck and we both had the same temper. I ended up moving back out here to Ontario and in with my grandparents again.

This time I was sent to "The Best Child and Adolescent Psychologist in the City!!" and I thought maybe I could learn to be open with her. She immediately diagnosed me with depression (no shit), and ADD! Well, this I did not know I had but ok, she must know best, right? I was put on Prozac and Ritalin. We never did do much talking about the real issue and that is what I needed most. I have heard countless people who had dealings with her in the past tell me now that she pushed pills on all the kids. Got an eating disorder? SSRI!! Having trouble concentrating because all you can think about and picture is your dead mother? Ritalin for all!! Later I would find out that it's not recommended to put anyone under the age of 18 on these meds.

Anyway, that's the back story. I kept seeing her until I was 18 when she could no longer see me because I wasn't an adolescent any longer and sent me out into the world to find my own adult psychiatrist. That was a giant FAIL. All the time I was on the drugs, anger and resentment, confusion and guilt, shame and self-hatred was growing and seething within me. I felt everyone else had given up on me, so why should I give a flying fuck, right?

I had family that could have intervened at any point during my teens for it was painfully obvious that shit was fucked up. No one did. That's fine. My grandparents were trying their best to look after the headcase I had become but unfortunately, they liked to get drunk a lot too. Bad scene. I hated booze at this point in time because of what it turned my mother into and I couldn't understand why in the FUCK they would want to drink the same shit that contributed to their daughter's death. I didn't understand addiction at this point in time.

I have been on countless SSRIs for over 16 years. Prozac, Zoloft, Effexor, Celexa, name a few. All of these had the same result. I would get a tolerance and they would have to be upped. I felt like a freakin zombie most of the time and I was doing drugs and at 18 I started drinking that very same booze I hated.
I would go on and off the SSRIs because it was not helping. I was getting the prescriptions from my GP who had no psychiatric training.

I just wanted the pain to go away. Cutting was helping a bit but nothing could take away that all-encompassing darkness that grew inside me and festered there until I was a walking dead person. No emotions other than hatred and anger, but even those were slightly subdued by the SSRIs I was on.

Withdrawal symptoms are the worst. I have been trying to come off my latest drug, Celexa and it's freakin hard. Not as hard as Paxil was because that shit is pure evil. I do feel similar symptoms coming off the Celexa though, they just are not as intense. I have chills, buzzing or electric shock type feelings, my brain doesn't know what to do with these emotions that were being suppressed and so for now, I am just taking my Clonazepam. Ok, that is not entirely true. I have been cutting my dose down for months now and I was on 10mg every other day for a couple of weeks. Now it seems like I get to the third day without the stupid drug and I get crazy feelings like I described above. It's like coming down off of really bad E. I get to a point where I can't stand it anymore and I resort to taking that 10mg again and it starts all over again.

This is frustrating. I want to see what I am like without the drugs as I have a sneaking suspicion that most of the actual depression came as a result of what happened with my mom. I probably do suffer from it to a certain degree but so does everyone from time to time.

Anyway, I am having feelings that I haven't felt in a really long time. I am starting to remember a small bit of my childhood which I so cleverly managed to block out as a defense mechanism against the pain of remembering having a mother.
It's sad, I really don't remember ever having a mom. I know I did, but I can't retrieve many of my early childhood memories of her. I really wish I could.

I have learned to forgive her and find compassion for her instead of resentment and anger. How can I resent someone who did what I have thought about doing a million times since but never could? She was mentally ill. Plain and simple.

Now please, PLEASE go the eff away you stupid withdrawal bullshit. GAH!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

On Nights Like Tonight

On nights like tonight when no one's around
I put on the record, the record I found
When I was a kid and the world was a town
And Heartbreaker weren't nothing painful

Carry me, Mother Mary, I'm faithless
Like Sister Theresa, canonized, faceless
The press release leaves the plagiarist nameless
And all is forgiven

On nights like tonight when no one's around
I sit in the dark on my hands on the ground
And I smile like the devil smiles, unseen but proud
Truth be told, I don't know who's at the helm
Just sit tight and I'll make my way to you
And I'll make my way to you

If I'm not on time
Remember that I tried

Carry me, Mother Mary, I'm faithless
Like needles in haystacks that we just replace
It's all the same monster that nobody faces
Where all is forgiven

On nights like tonight when no one's around
I turn off the lights and I float off the ground
And I smile like I used to when you were around
But truth be told, I don't know who's at the helm
Just sit tight, I'll make my way to you
I'll find a way to get to you

I don't know who's at the helm
Just sit tight and I'll find a way to get to you

Matthew Good off of his latest album "Vancouver"

Now here is a guy who thinks very similarly to myself. If you have not yet read his blog/website you should check it out. He says a lot of things I think and he's open about his mental illness. Far too little celebrities are open about mental illness and there is no doubt, what with the way we have insights into their lives now (internet, paparazzi, celebrity obsession) that many of them suffer from it. Amy Winehouse, Brit Spears, Mel Gibson ect. easily all have some sort of brain malfunction as it's painfully obvious but they try and chalk it up to "stress" ..yeah I sure wish I could blame all of my erratic behaviour on stress! That would mean I am normal, right?

This is his website, enjoy.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Church Experiment

For a long time, I have tried to understand religion. I have studied different ones from around the world. I was doing so in hopes to find somewhere to fit in. I always feel like I am just on the surface of fitting in with the "normies" out there but never completely. The closest religion I have found that I can actually wrap my head around, is paganism.

I have this tendency to be very analytical and scientific in my thinking and that had lead me to where I stand today.

With paganism, I can "worship" the earth in all it's glory. I can see nature working every day, right under my nose. This I can grasp.

What I cannot grasp is this notion that god is one gender and that gender is male. We see it in nature over and over again, to sustain and create life, we need both female and male DNA. I wonder then, how it is that one would come to the conclusion that god is a man and only a man.

I have seen forces at work which I cannot explain. I know there is a higher being (for lack of a better term) out there, something with more power and capabilities than a meager human can possess. I am certain however, that this life force must be a duality. In order to create, it would need to be.

There is the pagan way of thinking that there are Gods and Goddesses but I know deep down that back in early life for humankind, we created beings from our own image in order to make some sense out of the world. Humans need something to believe in for without it, a lot are lost souls and no one likes to be a lost soul. People like to fit in, to feel a sense of camaraderie with others. I don't blame us one bit, for being alone is not pleasant, especially if you think too much and over-analyze everything as I tend to do.

I cannot wrap my mind around these Gods and Goddesses either. What held power over us, we decided must have the same qualities as us in order for us to not fear it. I believe fear is the basis of most organised religions today. Fear and control. Humans have always had a need to control or feel as though they are making an effort to control and that is why we created these Gods and Goddesses. For if we could make sacrifices and pray to them, maybe their wrath would not be as catastrophic the next time.

You hear it time and again in the Christianity and Catholic religions. Fear of God. To put the fear of God in them. I believe this was done in order to control the general populace. Without governing forces and those to enforce them, there would be chaos and anarchy. That is simply the way we as human are, for we are but animals. Highly intelligent and highly arrogant by nature.

They say paganism is the oldest religion. I believe that to be true. It is very evident in my readings and studies of this that they were taken over by Catholics by force, for the whole island of Ireland was once pagan. When the "new religion" came it came with force and an ultimatum: "Join us in what we believe or die." When the person would not submit, they were marked for death. We can see evidence of this in the old churches which still stand in Ireland. When the stonemasons and carpenters were forced to covert to Catholicism and they were ordered to build churches, they secretly craved symbols know of paganism into the woodwork and stonework so as to not feel like they were betraying their Gods and Goddesses.

That is appalling in my opinion and no loving God would want that to ever happen. It was all about control and the fear that some (men) would lose it that drove them to promote an organised religion in order to scare the underlings into submission. I can wrap my head around that. Killing, wars over religion, they all sound so very primitive.

I think the bible was created as a set of rules for all the (now) sheep to follow, those who were free-thinkers were killed or banished from their homeland.

A lot of it sounds really fishy don't you think? If we are all sons and daughters of Adam and Eve, we are all products of incest. No thanks. I don't wish to label myself as that! That is pretty gross. For as the story goes, Eve was created from Adam's rib bone. Right there, creates an imbalance of power between men and women. Of course God (he) created a man first! For the man is all powerful and we must respect that. Alright so, they were the first and since you need both a male and a female (apparently God did as well) in nature to create life he created Eve to make babies in some Utopian society. Oh that's wishful thinking but not the reality of our nature nor will it ever be. We could try but you can only suppress the animalistic thoughts and behaviours for so long. Anyway, leave it to a woman to go and screw things up, right? Eve ate the apple which screwed all of humanity for eons. What a stupid woman eh?

I do believe Jesus lived. I think he was a man with very forward thinking. I think he questioned the wrong people and was put to death. Plain and simple. There have been instances of this throughout humanity. I also believe that people did a lot of opium back in the day and it produced some very interesting and neat-sounding stories with which to fill a bible up with. Have you ever heard of the game of telephone? I also believe it's entirely possible that that has happened in this case, to some degree. It's plausible. How many years old is that thing anyway? ;)

Those are some of my thoughts on religion and where I stand with what I believe in. It's not truth for I have no solid evidence to base these thoughts on, but it's the result of a lot of analytical thinking on my part and a lot of questioning.

I attended a church session this past Sunday because my husband is Christian and he was not able to make it out over to his parent's church. I was awake and I wanted to go support him and so I did. Well, as a person who is not big on musicals at all I didn't like all of the off-key singing. Sit down, stand up, sit down, stand up. That must be bad for someone with low blood-pressure...such as myself. The minister said some words that were good in my opinion, the message was not one of fear but of love which is a lot better than some church sermons out there, that's for sure. Of course, it was still under the pretense that God is a he. Oh well, I think most of these people mean well but are slightly misguided. That's all.

I do have one question though.

If God is in heaven and heaven is supposedly up above us, why then when they pray, do they bow their heads to the ground. Is that not where their evil lives? An evil they have dubbed Satan? It would seem more logical to me that one should look in the face of whom they are speaking to in such a manner with grace and glory.

I believe there is evil in all of us, just some are not able to control it as well as others.

Monday, February 22, 2010

You Are.......

FAT!!!!!!!! FATTY FAT FATS MCFATPANTS. Look at you, you lardass, you'd like to think you are a size 12 but you have a feeling the clothing companies are just being nice. FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT..

Jiggle jiggle.


When I was about 5 years old, my first incident with feeling larger than the general populace came from a girl my own age. We were seated in the back of her mom's car, it was summer so we were in shorts. She looked at my legs which had spread out onto the seat and exclaimed "Wow! Look at how fat your legs get!!" She was thin to begin with and I just had baby fat. I wasn't even fat!!

That's when the shame kicked in and I started to loath my body. I would purposely sit hunched over at my desk at school so you couldn't see my little rolls. I thought I had it under control. No one could see that I had baby fat or skin that I had yet to grow into and I was alright.

Fast forward to 1993. I was 14 and my mother had died the year before. I was going through a hard time and I was appointed the "Best Child and Adolescent Psychiatrist in the City!!" Well, that was a joke. She may have been the most popular at the time but she was also a great pusher of drugs upon teens. I was pretty angry at the world and at my mother for what she did. I don't remember much discussion on that however, I do remember much discussion on which drugs would make all of my problems go away.

I was diagnosed as having depression and attention deficit disorder. That was very popular at the time. As was Ritalin. Ahhhh Ritalin. You turned me into a super-focused zombie with zero appetite. At first I didn't notice the changes in my eating habits, I had never been one to take a lunch to school with me anyway. I continued on Ritalin because I trusted my doctor to do what was best for me. I started to notice the weight loss within a couple of months. I was about 110 lbs when I started on it. I was 5'3. That's a pretty decent height to weight ratio.

I kept getting thinner and thinner. I was loving it. Finally, I would look like Kate Moss!! I hated models at this point but it was a love-hate relationship I suppose. Actually you can just chalk it up to being heavily influenced by the media despite hating what they stood for in the first place.

My Nanna and my psychiatrist were worried about my weight loss. I decided to become cunning and I would come home from school, grab a couple of yogurt containers and proceed to empty the contents into the sink as if I had eaten them and then I would make sure my Nanna would see the empty cartons. I had also cleverly become vegetarian. She said she didn't know how to cook sans-meat and used that as an excuse to not eat the meals she would cook for my Grandfather, herself and I.

I made it down to 89 lbs at my lowest. The only reason I started eating again is that I was threatened with hospitalization should I not gain some weight. That scared me a bit as I was already used to being locked up (hospital suicide-watch and group homes in the CAS) and I did not want my freedom taken from me again. I remember visiting my best friend's place and her dad made a comment on how my back looked "Like a dinosaur!!" when I would bend over to do up my shoes etc. That comment maybe have saved me a hospital visit. I started to look closely in the mirror, something I was not doing but I sure did look closely at the scale on the floor. I saw what my friend's dad saw and I didn't like it as much as I thought. I thought to myself that I was becoming like the models I couldn't stand because of what they stood for. I had to use a lot of pillows in strategic places just to sleep semi-comfortable at night.

I slowly started eating again and gained weight back. I once again fell into the eating disorder trap and I could not see how lovely my body actually was, what I saw was a horrible 200 lbs whale when I looked in the mirror.

That is when I started to make myself throw up. I would feel so guilty for eating, that I would go and vomit. I would alternate between this and starving. It seemed to work alright and no one threatened me with hospitalization again. I moved out on my own at 17 and partying and drugs became more important than food. I was eating maybe a bagel a day if I was lucky. Sometimes maybe a can of tomato soup. This whole time, I was beautiful and I couldn't appreciate it at all. I just didn't see it.

I wore baggy clothes to hide what I thought was fat. I don't think I had much fat, it was skin. I didn't see it that way. I had somehow allowed outside forces to shape who I was and what I thought of myself all the while loathing the industry that promoted thinness in the first place.
I picked up a nasty drinking habit and gained a bit of weight from that but still, I was nowhere near fat. I was maybe 120 at my highest before I got pregnant at 22.

I gained a lot of weight with my pregnancy and I am still fighting it to this day. I gained over 60 lbs and have not been able to reach my pre-pregnancy weight of 120. It bothers the hell out of me and I keep reverting back to binge, purge, starve. I also become very angry at food and decide that it is not my friend and that certain foods I once loved gross me out for whatever twisted reason my mind can find.

I know this is wrong and that the media and fashion industries have influenced these unhealthy choices I keep making. I had been to counseling for this and I have read books. I am fully aware of what I am doing yet, I cannot stop. These days I am into binging and starving. I am trying so very hard to shake these old ways of thinking but it's fucking hard being a woman these days and seeing all the clothes that are made for skinny little things who probably have eating disorders of their own. The worst thing about it is that they make these clothes in bigger sizes too but when I put them on, they look noting like the do on the mannequins and I get depressed and leave. I have continual closet-meltdowns where I can't seem to find anything in my closet that I want to wear. At these hysterical times I am only thinking one thing: "No matter what you put on Andie, you will look fat in it so you might as well give up!"

I fucking hate myself for thinking this way and being easily influenced my the media. I am smarter than that. I also know that eating disorders are not just only about being skinny, but about control. I feel I have no control over myself sometimes and that is what leads up to an episode. I suppose it's time for more CBT therapy only this time instead of focusing on anxiety and panic, it shall have to be my unhealthy body image and unhealthy eating habits.


These thoughts go through my mind almost on a daily basis. I can't control them when they come and they scare me. I don't like having little fights inside my head. I also don't like the fact that if I let it show, if I let it slip and lose control that my daughter could very well pick up these same nasty habits.

Sometimes I just want to take a knife to my fat and stab at it, slice it off. That would be quite messy I would imagine.

Friday, February 19, 2010

They say if you question your sanity..

You are still sane. I hope there's some truth to that but what is sane anyway. A set of rules and morals instilled in us for generations via mind control methods such as religion? What exactly constitutes a proper way of thinking anyway? Who decided on these rules and morals in the first place? We as humans are nothing but glorified animals. I find it odd that one would think they could control this aspect of our very being, fully and completely. No ill thoughts towards others? No animalistic need to mate even for pleasure?

I ask myself if I am sane just about every day and most likely more than once. I feel a pull to nature not to some "all loving God" created in man's own image. I believe in what I can see, what is tangible. Some things I cannot explain but that doesn't mean there is no explanation, maybe it's out of my reach to do so.

When I think of all the seemingly easy and logical ways we could abolish poverty and hunger, of all the good we could be doing to better our society as we'd all seem to want, I can't help but think of the animals in us yet again. The territorial pissing contest between nations and governments. The struggle for ultimate power and recognition that takes place every second of every day. No, we are not all equal and we certainly aren't Stepford wives now are we?

I wonder why then, that we should strive to become something that is not within our reach. To become what society deems as normal. There will never be a normal so long as we, as humans remain animals.