10 Days of Haikus

Another emo one:

I close my eyes and
Leave this lost and lonely land
For one where I smile.

10 Days of Haikus

Today's haiku is a little less lighthearted than yesterday. Sorry. I'm feeling down.

Alone and lonely.
Desperate to be loved.
Destined for sadness.

Back to Normal?

Today I was meant to go back to my "usual" daily life. I have these checklists of things that I need to do everyday. Having the checklists helps me to do them. I haven't been keeping those lists for the past several weeks because of my hospitalization, and recovery. Last week I set today as the date when I'd restart everything.

Except that I feel like crap. I don't want to do anything. I got up several hours ago (despite desperately wanting to stay in bed), but only managed to turn on my shows and sit on the sofa crocheting. Even then the project I was working on was just single crocheting around and around.

I don't want to do anything. Actually that's not true. I want to go back to bed with a box of maltesers. I'm not even that fussed about the maltesers to be honest. The last few nights my dreams have actually been pleasant, and I want to go back to that world.

You can't run from your past

I've been sat here crying for 20 minutes, wanting to write this blog, but not sure whether I should. But I'm going to. I'm upset, and this is essentially my diary.

A couple of years ago I had some issues at the Brownie unit I was running and the District I was in. I had some bad friends who kept stealing from me, and they stole the Brownies money a couple of times. I couldn't pay it back one time, and I chose to leave before I was pushed. That situation hurt. A lot.

I love Guiding. I've been a Brownie, and a Guide, and I was helping and leading from as soon as I could. I love being a Brownie leader. I love the organising and the fun and I love the friendship with the girls. When I left Hartshill I was hurt, and I didn't go back to Guiding for nearly two years.

But I live in a different District now and last year I started at a new unit. Which I'm really enjoying. The leaders are great people, and the girls are all adorable and fun and friendly. There has been talk of me taking over a unit that has had to close down because the leader just up and quit.

This evening I went to a planning meeting for Thinking Day. I woke up feeling edgy, and didn't want to go. I was feeling antsy and horrible all through the meeting, and then afterwards, the District Commissioner asked to speak to me.

County has been in touch about my "issues" in my last district. The District Commissioner (and the Division Commissioner) need to check on me at the unit, and sit down to have a chat with me. I have a horrible feeling I'm going to be banned from Guiding. Maybe in this County, maybe in the whole flipping country. And I'm pretty sure that even if I'm allowed to keep going, I won't be allowed to take over that other unit.

I feel horrible. I feel like I've sabotaged myself. I've been working so hard recently to sort out the problems I have, and my bad habits. And apparently it doesn't make a bit of difference, because I'm always going to be held back by the mistakes I made in the past.

I'm scared of losing Guiding. My entire family is all about Guiding and Scouting. I have the trefoil tattooed on my back. Somehow I've managed to lose so many things that are important to me and to who I am. I don't want to lose anymore.

The Problem with Blogging

I have Depression. This is not news to anybody. Probably also not-news is that I have anxiety issues, self-esteem issues, leaving-the-house issues.... I try very hard to avoid the real world as much as I can. The real world is scary. I can very rarely leave the house without getting some kind of insult from the general public. So I avoid going out. I live my life on my beloved internet. It seems safe to me.

I'm not silly. I am aware that the internet is not particularly safe, and that there are a large percentage of dicks out there. But I avoid those areas. I don't read the comments on videos or memes, I don't go to chat rooms really, and I only use one forum-site (that has strict politeness rules). I manage to keep away from the nasty, and so the internet has become somewhere safe. Somewhere I can find a friend to talk to who will make me feel better, or even good about myself.

And then this week I received a comment on my blog. Someone felt the need to write a nice long comment ripping into me, posted on a blog I'd written about how I generally felt like crap but was trying hard to overcome it.

I've been episoding for several weeks now, and the littlest things can affect me quite badly. Since I received that email alert, I've been afraid to come onto my blog. I was pushed back into a fugue that I was beginning to drag myself out of.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this blog, really. I just feel the need to write. And that's the purpose for my blog. Somewhere for me to rant and ramble and post my acheivements and my failures. I've always loved that blogs provide the possibility that absolutely anyone could read it, but at the moment I'm a little cautious.

I could, of course, disable commenting on my blog. But I won't. I get quite a few very nice, supportive, friendly comments that keep me going. I have deleted the offending comment, and I'm trying very hard to move on. There are valid arguments against everything the commenter said, and even if there weren't I have no reason to value the opinion of someone who makes me feel bad.

To whomever Chronic Misanthropy is... my short, crude response is "fuck off". If you don't like my blog, don't like reading about my life, then DON'T SMEGGING READ IT!

Something that upsets me most, if the possibility that this may be someone I know in real life. If you are someone I know, who feels the need to post anonymous comments on my blog rather than confront me with the way you feel, then please please come forward. Let me know who you are, so I can return the favour and tell you exactly what I think of you.

2011 into 2012

Where to start? It's really hard to write this post at the moment, considering that I'm in the middle of an Episode and all I really want to do is curl up and cry. Or other things that are not nearly as healthy, but I'll try.

2011 was not the best of years. My relationship with Neil ended in March. I broke up with him, although of course I regret that. I've seen him twice in nearly two years, but my feelings for him haven't changed. I don't foresee them changing any time soon either. I still think of us as together. We both talk and text as though we are. And on the very rare occasions when he's up to it, we meet as though we're still together too. I'm not sure what's going to happen. As long as he's depressed, and we're sixty miles apart, it's not going to be easy. But for some stupid, stupid reason, I can't give up.

The photography missions failed... you might have noticed. It's hard to take pretty pictures when you're living nocturnally and don't have a high-end camera.

Project 200 is still going strong though. It's no longer a one year project. When I made the decision to work harder on opening an Etsy store, me and my adjudicator (Cayden) agreed that it could become a two year project instead of a one year. I'd intended to get to 75 (which is half the number needed for minimum pass) by New Year, but that hasn't happened, because I've been working on the store.

The weightloss failed. Miserably. I think I'm probably at least a stone or two heavier than I was this time last year. I managed to get into a cycle. I'd try and lose weight, put weight on, get depressed, binge eat, put weight on, get depressed... I was advised by a mental health professional to hold off on the weight loss until I had a better handle on the depression.

I got a little better with money. Sort of. I was just starting to get the hang of things, and pay my bills, and start to clear off my debts, and even save a little, when the stupid government decided it'd be a good idea to stop my benefits. They're in the process of switching over everybody on Incapacity Benefit to an Employment Support Allowance thing. They sent me the form, I filled it in, sent it back. And they decided that I had zero of the fifteen required points to qualify for ESA. Which is soooo wrong. And they'd had no information from my doctor either. So I'm appealing. At some point in the next month or two I'll have to go to a tribunal and hopefully they'll give me my benefit back. For a few weeks I had no income whatsoever, and was unsure of my financial future, but they are paying me now. About two thirds of what I was on, so I'm struggling a bit. It's all a big mess, but there's nothing I can do about it until the tribunal.

My depression has wavered a lot this year. It's been hard. I have a new kitten, Lexie:



And in the last few days I've managed to make a brand new friend - meaning that I now have three very close friends. I have about five other friends, all of them far away. I have hundreds of semi-friends on Ravelry who have sent me dozens of Christmas cards and lots of presents. But I'm so lonely. All the time. It doesn't go away.

My family has had a hard year. My youngest sister is now living with her dad, after all kinds of mayhem. My middle sister is barely speaking to our Mum. Most of the time it feels like my entire family has fallen apart, but there's nothing I can do to stop it, or to fix it.

I have lots of plans for 2012, but at the moment I'm struggling to see past how bad I feel at the moment. My sister is married and happy and they're looking for a house; all three of my brothers have beautiful children; two of those brothers are in happy, committed relationships and one of them got married this year. And then there's me. Living alone with my cats and no relationship. Feeling like a complete failure. My best friend in the world and I had a big falling out, and have a very tentative friendship at the moment. The love of my life is lost in a fog of his own depression and I don't know when or if I'll ever see him again. My financial situation is a complete mess, and I have no idea if that'll get better or much more worse. I turn 30 in 2012, and I have absolutely nothing to show for my life.

Aargh! I hadn't intended to get so miserable in this post. I'm going to go and get some food, then I'll come back and write my plans for this shiny new year.

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Okay, so I've had some food (bacon, beans and fried egg - nice healthy start to the year) and I've made some pointless lists and sorted some things out, so I feel a bit better.

I do have some good plans for 2012. Aside from continuing and finishing Project 200, I'm opening an Etsy store! Finally. I've been making plans to do it for a couple of years, but I finally decided that New Year's Day would be the opening day. I have a stock of products ready to go up, the store is all there waiting. We even have business cards!

Celeena Cree Creations!

Don't expect too much: there's nothing in there at the moment. But there will be by the end of the day.

I'm also raising money. I'm doing a Discworldathon to raise money for Alzheimer's Research. I have the first book - Colour of Magic - sat right beside me. I'm going to read a bit in a minute. I've set my first fundraising target at £150, and I've already raised nearly a third of that. I have £7.25 on my Justgiving page. Here! And I have another £39.50 pledged.

My other plan for this year is 2012 Fantabulous Things. I have a couple of hundred things already, and I'll add to them as I think of them, so keep an eye out for that.

A Christmas Prayer

I'm not a religious person, but I do consider myself to be kind of spiritual. I don't believe in God, but I believe in an unknown higher power. And I'd like, now that I've finished with all the food and the presents and the Christmas tv, to take a minute to send out a virtual prayer-type message.

I've been incredibly blessed this year, by all the generous people on Ravelry who've sent me enough presents to keep me occupied unwrapping for hours. And there are over a hundred Christmas cards adorning the walls of my home. A lot of the time I feel so very lonely, and it's times like this when I realise I'm not. They may not be next door, or even a text message away, but there are a lot of people out there who care what happens to me. And I am so immensely thankful to that unknown higher power for that.

I'm thankful for my family. Even though we've become even more fragmented in recent months, I still love my family, and I know that they love me. And I'm thankful for my friends. Consistent friends, friends who drifted but are returning, and brand shiny new ones. All of you are amazing, and you keep me going.

I'm thankful for the Internet too. As a depressive shut-in, the Internet is my lifeline. I don't get a thousand visitors a minute on this blog, but just knowing that my words are out there and have the possibility of being read by anyone, makes me feel important.

Merry Christmas to all you people out there. I hope you've had a good day, and I hope that tomorrow is good, and the next day and the next day. I hope that you are loved, and that you love. I hope that you enjoy what you do, whatever you do. I hope that you can smile occasionally and realise that perhaps life isn't so bad after all.

32 days

So guess what? It's nearly Christmas!! And I'm a little bit excited about it. This is nothing new. I've always loved Christmas. I tend to start getting excited about it in July. But I've seen the three signs of the Apocal... three signs of Christmas:

1) The Coca-Cola Christmas Advert
2) Children in Need has been on
3) I've received my first Christmas card

So I can officially start celebrating. And I'm not using Christmas to desperate cling to in order to distract myself from the chaos my life is in at the moment. Honest.

Okay, well maybe a little bit. But why shouldn't I? I'm am holding back though. Or trying to.

I brought myself a new Christmas tree, and it's already up. But mostly to see if it constructed okay, and to see how the cats dealt with it. Smudge was around last Christmas, but we were at Mum's and she was more interested in the dog than the Christmas tree. Lexie - the awkward/annoying/adventurous one - has never seen a Christmas tree. I was expecting her to climb it instantly, but so far she's completely ignored it. And Smudge just chews the bottom branches. I put the lights on a day or two okay, to see how they coped with that. Still nothing. I'm vaguely disappointed. Half the fun of Christmas and pets is stopping them climbing the tree. Maybe when I put the tinsel on this weekend they'll show more interest. But I'm not properly decorating the place until December 1st.

I've made myself an Advent calendar. (I LOVE FELT)



It's got chocolate coins in. They've been in there for nearly a week now without me attacking them. Of course, it's not December yet. That'll be the true test of my willpower. Can I make it to Christmas day without devouring all the chocolates? Probably not. I don't think I've done that since I was about 13. I think the furthest I've gotten would be the 10th or so. I will make it to the 24th this year. I will! Maybe.

I have Christmas day all planned out. I'm alone this year. Well, just me and the cats. The only other time I've ever spent Chrismtas alone was way back in 2004. My first Christmas in Stoke; just me and Gadget. Microwave dinner. Boredom. Misery. Binging. Distress. Suicidal-ness. But I LOVE Christmas! And since I appear to be turning into a crazy-cat-lady-spinster who'll be alone for the rest of her life, I need to learn to cope with Christmas alone. So I have all kinds of plans. Including a full roast dinner :-) Mum's sending me up a whole turkey. Me and the cats will have turkey sandwiches 'til New Year. Turkey sandwiches, and turkey chowder, and turkey curry. I've got some delicious recipes for parmesan roast potatoes, and cranberry stuffing. And plans for all the trimmings. I'll be watching all the holiday shows, and Christmas movies, and making gingerbread muffins. I'm even getting my stocking. Mum's decided I'm too old now, but I've convinced Cayden to make me one :-) (I am making him one in return). And presents!

One of my worries about spending Christmas alone was not having any presents to open. So I brought myself a couple of things, and wrapped them and gave them to Cayden. And I'm participating in a load of swaps on Ravelry. I've not opened any of the packages I've received since my birthday. They're all for Christmas day. Two of the swaps were Advent swaps - they contain 24 mini gifts each. When I received one of the packages, I messaged on the forum thread to say that I'd received it and to explain why I wouldn't be opening it just yet. I had over a dozen Ravellers demand my address so they could send me presents. I'd been having a bad day, and when I read those messages I almost burst into tears. Yet again, I'm utterly overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of Ravellers.

Even the cats have some presents under the tree. Or they will do by Christmas day. I can't put them under now, because a certain little fluffypants will rip into them before Christmas. I have a teeny tiny santa hat for them too. It'll be interesting to see if I can get any decent pictures of them wearing it.

So, Christmas is all set. It will be fun, and enjoyable. Even if I have to kill someone to do it.

I kinda want to rant a little about the bad stuff that's going on in my life, but I don't want to spoil the Christmas post. I'll write all that crap later.

Merry Christmas!

Happy Holidays!

Jolly Kwanza!

Merry Hannukah!

Happy Christmakah!

Etc etc etc.

Affected by my dreams

It's kind of disturbing how much you can be affected by your dreams. Last night I had a dodgy dream (as usual). I was in a relationship with a guy, and we were both wizards who were victimised by the local community. For most of the dream we were trying to protect our home and ourselves from attack. That part was kinda scary, but during the whole thing I was loved. He was absolutely crazily in love with me, and that feeling was there the entire time. I felt loved, I felt wanted, I felt cared for. And he was always hugging me, and kissing me, and checking on me.

And then I woke up.

I hate waking up.

Now I'm in the real world, which is just as scary. I still get victimised in the street for who I am, but I don't have cool magic to compensate. And I'm alone. I have more friends than I did have, but I'm alone. Not loved, not wanted, not cared for. Not in that sense. There isn't a man I can turn to for a cuddle at any moment. No one to kiss me, or hold me. And now I'm utterly overwhelmed with sadness and loneliness and misery.

I have things to do today, but all I really want to do is cry. Curl up in bed and cry, because I feel so alone and so sad. All because of a sodding dream.

Not as Miserable as I Sound

For anyone who actually read my last post, or my blog in general, I just wanna let you all know that I'm not actually as miserable as I sound. Yes, I have depression. Yes, just getting up everyday takes a tremendous amount of effort. But I'm not miserable every second of every day.

My entire life when I've had a journal I've had the same problem. I write when I'm stressed, or frustrated, or miserable. And I rarely write when I'm happy and contented. So it looks like my life copmletely sucks. I've just never had an internet read my journal before. So I'll try to write more positive posts.

I did eventually get back to sleep yesterday. And I slept for a whole 17 hours. Felt great afterwards. Still do. I've been up all night technically (woke up at midnight), but I've gotten quite a bit done. I feel productive. I like feeling productive. One of my OCD things is writing lists. Obsessive lists. Lists of everything. The biggest being to-do lists. Lots of them. So when I get to check things off that list, it makes me feel good. I've crossed off a few today, and even though there's still a bajillion things left on it, I feel good.

Of course, feeling good might have a little to do with the hot chocolate cobbler I just ate, but I've counted it in my daily points total, so it's even guilt-free chocolate cobbler.

My life really isn't that bad. I could sit here and easily list the bad things, and there are plenty of them. But if you read my blog at all, you know most of them already. You probably don't know many (if any) of the good things.

I'm talented. I forget it sometimes, but I am. If you look around my house there are dozens of examples of beautiful cross stitch and cute little crochet/knit creatures. And although I've got writer's block at the moment, I have files of some pretty good writing. And a shelf full of books that my poems have been printed in.

I may not be conventionally attractive, but I'm cute. I have a little button nose, and big bright blue eyes. And if you ignore the myriad of scars, I have lots of soft, smooth, clear skin.

I'm generous, and kind, and friendly (once I get past the crippling shyness and anxiety). I'm good with kids. I'm good with animals. I cook the most delicious muffins, and I have a few other recipes I excel at. Creamy chicken and corn chowder, anyone? Chocolate cream pie? I know a certain gentleman who'd eat three of my chocolate cream pies if it wouldn't make his stomach explode.

And I'm lucky. I don't always feel like it, but I am. I have a roof over my head, and food to eat. I don't live in an area where I need to worry about terrorists or war. I have water and electric and heat and clothes. A lot of the time I feel like my life is completely pointless and that it isn't worth living. I need to remember that there are so many millions and millions of people who have it a lot worse than me. I may have trouble finding the energy to leave the house, but I do have a house I can be agoraphobic in. And I can afford the chocolate cake to binge on.

I might not have a social life, or many friends, but I still have people I can talk to. I have two friends who have stuck by me throughout all the shit I dole out, and who don't mind my foibles. They haven't abandoned me when I ranted about them. They're still my friends, and sometimes it might take them a while to reply to messages, but they always do. One of them is just simply wonderful. I admitted some things I'd lied to him about, and he didn't bat an eyelid. He's kind, and friendly, and sweet. And even though he has a lot of his own troubles, he's always there to help me deal with mine. He walks into town centres to get my meds when I can't, even though he's feeling ill himself. I wish I could adequately explain to him how grateful I am that he's my friend.

I have two beautiful cats, even if they are completely cuckoo. They pee in the wrong places, and they scratch, and they run around the house making a racket while I'm trying to sleep. But they're cute, and affectionate, and funny, and they give little nose-kisses, and they're my constant companions. Without my pets I'd be even more insane than I am now. Right now Smudge is asleep on a box. Well, she's trying to sleep. Lexie is on top of her, chewing on her own tail. Smudge is staring at her, like she wants her to explode. It's quite cute to see.

I'm not always happy, but I'm quite often content. Right now I'm content. My butt hurts from sitting on this awkward chair for too long, but I'm content.

Just wanted to let the internet know I'm not always miserable and stroppy.

Don't know what to title this...

It's 4 in the morning, and I'm awake. Not by choice. I want to be asleep. I was asleep until a couple of hours ago when my body decided that it was time to get up, whether I liked it or not.

So here I am. I know I haven't blogged in a while, and I don't really have an excuse. The good news is the Mammoth Secret Project is finished! It only took 15 months (which was 8 months too long), but it is now done! I can't reveal it just yet, because it hasn't been delivered. Look for the big reveal at some point in September.

It does mean that I can go back to working on Project 200 things though. I have one piece I've finished but haven't revealed yet, because it needs ironing and then I need to get Cayden to take a picture of me in it. But Project 200 is back on track. Having said that, I have got two more big things due soon. I need to have most of my Christmas presents done by early September for when I go down south next. And we plan to open the Etsy store in September, so I need to get lots of products done for that. So there will probably be no big significant work done on Project 200 until at least September - but I'm working occasionally on one or two pieces.

So that's where I am craftwise. In other news... well my lovelife is as dead and defunct as it has been for months. I'm still besotted with someone who switches between hot and cold every five seconds. Supposedly I'm going to stay with him for a few days in August, but judging from the tremendous Neil-triggered episode I had the other day, I'm not entirely sure it's a good idea. I want to talk about it, but I don't think I can. It's all confused and complicated in my head. The sensible part of me, not that it's very big, is constantly making snide little remarks. Probably very wise and clever remarks. But it is always completely overshadowed by the huge and strong part of me that loves him and doesn't want to give him up.

I was about to start writing about how my friend-life is going, and dieting, and family, and everything else. But that's really kinda dull. Nothing has changed. I'm hoping to get some changes in life in September. I'll be going back to Stitch and Bitch, and Role Playing, and other groups I've found.

My life is plodding along as it has been for years. I know what I want from my life, and I'm working towards getting those things. But it's slow, very slow, and I'm not so good at maintaining confidence.

I have no idea what I'm writing about now. I just have that common urge to write, and don't know what the hell to write about. And all that does is bring back writer's block frustrations.

ARGH! I want to be asleep. Either asleep, or eating large amounts of ice cream. I have no ice cream :(

Sorry for the misery

Hiya Internetz. Sorry about the lack of blogging. And I'm sorry that this blog will be a bit miserable too.

I haven't been blogging mostly because I haven't been finishing off any Project 200 crafts. I've been working on patterns and designs for my upcoming Etsy store, and project testing those patterns, and making other pieces to sell. I have been working on Project 200, it's just been small parts of big projects. I have restarted the Mammoth Secret Project. Well... I haven't "restarted" it, that would be insane. But I have started working on it again. I'm getting there. I'd like to have it finished by the start of September, so that I can deliver the bloody thing. That's all I'm working on this month. That and two or three cross stitch pieces. Nothing else. Not until the MSP is finished.

In the meantime... ouch. I have the plague. Well, I have the flu. Probably not even flu. More like a cold. But I don't do sick well. I do sick like a man. I feel like I'm dying. I have a completely stuffed head, a nose that can't decide if it's runny or stuffed, a stomach that gets queasy when I think about eating but that has me starving all the time. The light hurts. No energy. Can't stop sleeping. Mind you, that isn't all that different from normal.

I feel... wrong. I want nothing more than to be curled up in bed with a certain Lancashire Lad, watching a movie or something. And I can't have that. There's not much more in life that I want other than that. I wanted ice cream and milkshake earlier, and spent four hours mustering energy to go out to Sainsbury's, before I remembered that it was Sunday and the shops had been closed for hours. Wham. Depression. Because I wasn't in a bad mood already.

When I thought I was moving to Basingstoke, I scoured the internet looking for clubs and groups and societies and classes and things to get myself a social life. Checked out all the libraries and colleges and community centres and things. In the past week I've been doing the same thing for here, now that I've decided to stay. I'm going to start getting bus passes in September again, and go back to Stitch and Bitch at Keele, and restart Brownies, and join all these new groups. Get myself a social life. Give myself somewhere to go, make some new friends.

Except that right at this very moment, that seems like a really stupid thing to do. Yes, it kinda sucks being lonely. But it's safe. I can't get hurt or wound up or anything by people if I don't interact with any of them. People are evil. What I really want to do is stay the hell away from all of them.

I wish I could switch myself off. I don't mean that to sound suicidal, because it isn't meant to be. I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die. There are lots of things in life that I want, that I enjoy, that I look forward to. It's just that 90% of the time I'm not enjoying myself. I'm working hard, all the time, just to stay conscious and not collapse in a big pile of flesh and tears. I'm so tired of it. I want an off-switch. So I could just turn myself off right now, and wake up again when it's Christmas. Or when Neil is better and wants me again. Or when they've found a cure for depression.

I'm tired, and ill, and frustrated, and angry, and worried, and exceedingly uncomfortable and all I want is Neil. And then I feel worse, because I'm not meant to want him. He's just my friend now, nothing more. I shouldn't want him anymore than I want Cayden. But I do. I want Neil, and I want to stop feeling so shit all the bloody time.

I Seriously Dislike Being a Grownup

I really, really hate being a grownup. I hate having to make decisions that are about what I SHOULD do rather than what I WANT to do. We spend our entire childhood wanting to be grownups, so we can do what we want. Then we realise that we can't, really.

Considering that I just spend half an hour on the phone with National Debtline, I don't think I should go to America next year. And that really, really sucks. Anyone know any rich chubby-chasers who want to marry me?

I called the National Debtline because I have two companies claiming they're collecting the same debt, and I didn't know what to do. National Debtline advised me what to do with that situation, and they took all my details about all my other debts too. I came out of that phonecall in tears, but a good kind. Sort of. There's so much I didn't realise about what I'm entitled to, regarding my debts and things.

For instance.. I don't have to put up with a million phone calls a day. I can tell them to only contact me in writing. And I don't have to only go out once a bloody fortnight because I can't afford bus tickets. Travel is considered a necessity, even for people who don't actually have anywhere to go.

I really, REALLY want to go to New York next year. I want to go to New York now. But, I can't afford it. And that totally sucks. I hate being a grownup. Have I mentioned that?

In the meantime, I have some letters to write.

Ode to Audrey

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post about how angry I was feeling with certain aspects of my life. In that post I referred to two different people. One of them, the male, was very understanding. He apologised for hurting me, and told me he wished he could express himself the way I do in my blog.

The other one didn't take it so well. A short time after I posted, I had a text message from her. An angry, offended message. I told her that I hadn't meant to upset her, that I was just being honest. I haven't heard anything from her since. Nothing. At all. It looks like that friendship is over.

And I am extraordinarly sad about that. I've known her for four and a half years, and in that time she completely changed my life. We are very, very different people, but we have a lot in common too. We both love America. We both struggle with depression. We both find rockers extremely attractive. We both love peanut butter. We both like crafting.

In fact, she was the person who taught me to knit. For months and months I would cross stitch while she would knit, and she would offer to teach me, and I would tell her to sod off. And eventually I gave in. And I am so grateful that I did. I love knitting, and knitting lead to crochet, which I also love.

She taught me a lot. Before her, I'd wear jeans and a t-shirt. I always had my hair up in a ponytail. Now I wear dresses, and skirts, and jewellery, and I get haircuts, and hairstyles (ish), and very occasionally I wear a bit of makeup. I'm still not a girly-girl, but I'm ever so slightly more refined that I was before her.

I have a tattoo that represents her. I always said I wouldn't get tattoos for people, but I decided that even if we never spoke again, she'd had such a huge impact on my life that I wanted to commemorate that. So on my back I have a red heart intertwined with a purple star. The red heart represents her, and the purple star is for me. Red was always her colour, and she doodles a curly heart beneath her signature. And my favourite colour is purple, and my signature shape is a star.

I influenced her a little too. At least, I like to think so. She now has that swirly heart tattooed on her hip. And hopefully I rubbed off a little bit of her "goody two shoes". I made her a little bit badder, and she made me a little bit gooder. And let's ignore that horrendously bad grammar.

I'm glad that she is happy with her boyfriend, and her job, and her life. And I want nothing more than for her happiness to last. But I am very sad that I can't be a part of what makes her happy.

I think about her a lot. When I think a rnadom thought, or have something to celebrate, or something to commiserate, I still want to text her. And everything reminds me of her. One of the handmade soaps that I received this morning smells like J'adore, her signature perfume. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which made me think of her. I found an old theatre ticket. I saw an advert for Wicked.

We did a lot, she and I. There was That Summer - lots of debauchery I shall not get into. And several incidents involving alcohol. All of which make me smile now that I look back at them. She was my "plus one" at my aunt's birthday party, and at my sister's wedding. She met, and enchanted, my entire family. She helped me rehome my cat, and collect several cats, and collect and rehome a rabbit. We shopped in Camden, and cried during a theatre trip to Wicked. We saw comedians, and dodgy musical shows, and brilliant musicals. I will never hear a song from Wicked and not think about her. Or Joseph the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Or Phantom of the Opera. I will never watch Strictly Come Dancing without thinking about her. Or a vampire movie. Or a Spiderman movie. Or read a vampire novel. Or eat a quiche. Or a Morrison's salad, or drink milkshake, or eat a doughnut without thinking about her. I will never go to a circus without thinking about her. I'll stop here. I could write an encyclopedia of things that will remind me of her.

I love her, and I miss her, and I hope our estrangement will end at some point in the future.

I do have to say though, that I don't regret that post. I regret that I hurt her, but I don't regret using my blog to vent my frustrations.
I

Angry

WARNING - THIS POST CONTAINS RANTS. THEY ARE SLIGHTLY NONSENSICAL. THERE IS BAD GRAMMAR AND SENTENCE STRUCTURE. THERE IS ALSO RANTING ABOUT SPECIFIC PEOPLE - PLEASE DO NOT GET MAD AT ME. THIS IS MY ONLY OUTLET.

I’m angry. I don’t know why I’m angry at the moment, when I’m usually sad, but I am! I’m angry damnit. I’m angry with the world.

I’m angry that stupid little injuries keep happening to me. I’m not as much of a klutz as the world makes me out to be. All I did was generously donate a bed frame to someone who needed it, and now I’m missing a freaking toenail for fuck’s sake! Despite spending the last decade of my life not taking care of myself properly, I do it right this time. I call medical professionals for advice, I clean and cover my wound. And then when I go to change the dressing, the stupid sodding gauze sticks to the fresh nail growing in and rips it fucking out! So now it’s freshly painful, and I have to keep in uncovered to let the nail grow in, which means cleaning it every two minutes to stop an infection coming in.

And I’m angry with my friends. One makes absolutely no effort to see me anymore. Now that she has her job, and her live-in boyfriend, she’s just not interested in me or our friendship. I can’t think of the last time she came round to see me without me inviting her, or without her wanting to use my parking space to get into town. She doesn’t text me first. She doesn’t message me or call me. I miss her. She’s my best friend. She’s the handprint on my heart. I know I’m not the easiest person to be friends with. I guess it’s understandable that she’d much rather spend her free time with her boyfriend.

I’m angry with my other friend too. A couple of weeks ago he was here literally non-stop for over a week. He was my lodger. I’m not complaining about that. I loved that. I love his company, and I love that he makes me less self-conscious about my foibles. Then he goes home to his parents for a weekend, and when he comes back everything has changed. He’s been sick, and depressed, and things are getting to him, but in nearly three weeks I’ve seen him once, and spoken to him only a few times. I feel like he’s avoiding me. I KNOW he isn’t, but it feels like it. And I’m angry at myself for being so paranoid and insecure, but I’m angry at him because he knows I’m insecure and paranoid and worry easily and... And there’s all kinds of mess with his participation in a Ravelry swap that I’m running, and I don’t want to push him because I know he’s depressed and that he can’t help it, but it’s frustrating me, and I’m getting flack from other Ravelers because I’m the moderator and I’m meant to do something. I’m just angry.

I’m angry with men in general actually. I belong to four social-networking/dating sites. I have on my profile, clearly stated, that I am only looking for friendship. So these men message me. I get the usual messages of men asking me for a fuck. I’m used to them. I ignore them. Then I get the fully grown men sending “hey bbe, wot u up 2”. What the hell is that? Aside from all the glaringly obvious issues, where the hell is the question mark? Then there are the ones that feel the need to message me and tell me I’m fat, or that I’m ugly. Why? What satisfaction can they possibly get from insulting a stranger? But you know what makes me the angriest? The ones who start a normal conversation. The ones who I respond to, and we get chatting, and we swap mobile numbers, and we keep texting, and we’re getting along nicely, and then they start flirting. Ok, I like to flirt. Then the flirting turns into much more than flirting, and I’m not comfortable, so I remind them that I’m only looking for friends. “That’s fine,” they say. “We can be friends.” Then I never bloody hear from them again. That makes me bloody angry.

I’m angry with life. What did I do in my past life to deserve having such shit piled on me this time round? Why do I deserve to be a depressive? Why do things keep going wrong? Why do things go wrong for the people I love? What in the hell did Neil do to deserve having his baby brother blown up? How the hell is that justified?

I’m angry with myself as well. I had this amazing plan for making products, and designing patterns, to sell in an Etsy store. I made a conscious decision to start designing things. Since then I’ve worked on a few patterns, but haven’t done a stitch of craftwork. Haven’t started any products for my Etsy store. Haven’t worked on any Project 200 pieces. None. And I don’t know why. I just don’t care. And that scares me, because crafting is all I have, and if I stop wanting to do that, what the hell am I going to do with my life?

I’m angry about weightloss too. I like the Weightwatchers plan. I was a bit miffed when they switched to this new complicated ProPoints scheme, but I got used to it. I learned to like it, I learned to use it. When I can afford to go regularly, Weightwatchers works for me. But it’s £6 a meeting, plus a £4 bus ticket to get there. That’s £10 a week. And they don’t let you skip meetings. You have to go EVERY SINGLE WEEK. So that’s £20 a month. After bills I only have £60-75 a fortnight to spend on gas, electric, groceries and catfood. That’s all the money I have. I can’t afford to do that. So when I found a set of bathroom scales that has a high enough weight limit for me, I was pleased. Yes, they’re a bit expensive. But I got them from a catalogue and I can pay them off at £2.40 a week. No more expensive Weightwatchers meetings. I stick to the plan and weigh at home once a week. Nice. Simple. The scales arrive and I weigh myself. Horrible number, but expected. I stick to the plan. I point my food. I behave myself damnit! And come the first weigh-in, I’ve put on 5lbs. 5lbs in 4 days. How the hell? None of my whole three friends are available for support or comfort, and I get depressed, and deal with it by binge eating. So now next weigh-in I’ll weigh even more. I hate it. I hate the whole bloody process.

I’m angry. Very angry. And it’s weird and different. I don’t do anger. I do misery, and depression, and gut-wrenching sorrow. But I’m none of those things. I want to cry, but it’s out of frustration, not sadness. I’m angry and I want to punch a bloody wall. I want to punch a person. I’m not violent, but I want to get violent with someone. I’m so angry with everything, and I don’t know what to do about it.

Cheesed Off

Here are just a few reasons why I'm cheesed off right now..

- things in my family have gotten messy and I can't do anything to help
- everybody in my family is annoyed at everyone else for crossed messages and not understanding things and just the stupid situation as it stands
- I have a headache. Not that nice kind of headache you can sleep through, but the evil kind that wakes you up in tears because it's so flipping bad
- One of my friends is too busy with her life to reply to text messages
- My other friend is still awol. Alive, according to the offline MSN message I got, but that's all I've heard from him in over a week
- I'm annoyed at myself that I only have two friends I can hang out with
- An old friend keeps texting to see what I'm up to and asking if he can come over - despite the fact that the last time we spoke he spent two hours insulting me and my life
- I've been chatting to guys online, trying to make friends, and we get on okay until I mention I only want to be friends, then they vanish, or block me
- The one guy who didn't vanish is still persistently being overly flirty, and if I don't respond to a text within ten minutes he sends the exact same text again
- I don't have the energy to get up and do anything
- I can't focus on more than one or two rows of any craft project
- I can't muster the energy to go and sit in the lounge, and I can hear both cats outside the bedroom door meowing because I won't let them in, but I can't let them in because Lexie won't stop peeing on the bloody bed
- I don't have vast amounts of ice cream in the freezer
- I don't have ANY ice cream in the freezer
- I'm in love with someone who is in love with me, but it won't work and I have to deal with that fact, but I really don't want to
- I'm going stir crazy in my house, but I have absolutely no where to go
- Even if I had somewhere to go, I have no money to get there
- I'm lonely as hell
- I'm frustrated, due to certain urges having been awoken
- I'm annoyed because I've woken up hours earlier than intended, but I can't get back to sleep


- I'm not incredibly annoyed because every time I phone my mother, about anything, we end up getting into an argument about Michaela and she yells at me
- I'm annoyed that I actually let myself believe that my relationship with that woman had gotten any better
- I'm annoyed with life in general, and I hate everything

A bit of a rant

More ranting about how crap my life is. Feel free to skip it.

For the past week, one of my friends has been AWOL. Heard from him the evening before we were meant to meet up, then nothing. He never showed up to meeting me, he didn't answer his phone, he wasn't on MSN, he wasn't on Twitter or Facebook, he wasn't responding to texts or emails. Just gone. Very unlike him. And I'm a paranoid person. One of my biggest fears is that a friend will die, and I'll never know because no one will think to tell me. So that's been preying on my mind. I messaged a couple of mutual friends we have, and one got back to me saying she hadn't heard from him either, which didn't help. I was going to look up his parents in the phone book and try calling them, but then he got back to me this morning. When I logged on to MSN this morning he'd left me an online message. He's ill and depressed, but he's alive. So I feel a little better.

Still feel crappy though. BIG BIG BIG family issues, and at the moment there is nothing I can do about it. My mum is having trouble dealing with my teenage sister, and it's causing all kinds of chaos. I've offered to have her live with me, but two hundred miles is too far away. So I made the decision last week to move back to Basingstoke. I hate Basingstoke, but I don't have a lot up here in the Midlands for me anymore. Two friends - one of whom works a lot and has just moved in with her boyfriend. I'll see her as much as I see her now, just with a bit more planning. The other has parents a couple of towns over from Basingstoke, so I'd still see him when he visits. There are a lot of benefits to moving back down south. I'd be closer to my sisters, and my step-brothers and their kids. I'd get to see all my little cousins and neices and nephews grow up. If I get stir-crazy or lonely there are lots of family friends in the town who'd love to have me over for a cup of tea. Generally the south is more expensive, but the weekly bus ticket in Basingstoke is about £6 cheaper, so I could afford to get out and about, and there are lots of societies and clubs I'd like to join. And, most importantly, I'd be able to help mum out with Michaela. If nothing else, I'd be somewhere for Michaela to go when things get too much.

The quickest move is to go private, but to do that I'd need about £800 for a deposit and first month's rent, and I can't afford that at the moment. So I've applied to the Council/Housing Association's Housing Register. I have connections in the area, and my Dr is writing a letter to prove that it'd be good for my depression. So I won't be at the bottom of their list, but it'll still take a while.

Yesterday the situation down there blew up a little bit. I need to get down there as soon as I can, and until I do there's nothing I can do to help the situation, which is killing me. I'm helpless up here. It's aggravating my depression, and I'm currently festering in a pit of episodey-ness, with no outlet.

I've been cooking. I have a peanut butter pie setting in the freezer, and garlic-ginger chicken marinating in the fridge, but once again I have no one to share my delicious goods with, with is depressing.

And I'm tired. Been sleeping odd hours, and I'm tired. My depression makes me tired, my anti-depressants make me tired, my current situation is making me tired, and not sleeping properly is making me tired. I'm fucking tired! I so desperately want to go lie down and sleep for months.

Desperate attempt at distraction

Hey there world. Right now I'm fighting those I-want-to-do-Something-Stupid feelings. And those of you who know me know what "Something Stupid" is code for. And since there isn't really anyone I can talk to, I'll tell my blog instead. Not that anybody really reads this. I don't even know why I keep posting. It's a diary, basically, and not even one I can be completely honest in. Sometimes I feel like I should just give it up, and go get a notebook. Go back to being private. At least in a notebook I could scribble down exactly what's bothering me and not be vague and semi-secretive.

For instance, there are some issues with my family. Chaotic, big, messy issues that I can't escape from. But I can't talk about it freely on here. Because I don't know if any of the people involve will ever come on here. Not to mention that it's an issue with a minor, and there are probably lots of legal issues involved. Besides, if I said that I was planning on kidnapping my baby sister, there would be all kinds of uproar. But it's driving me crazy. I moved 200 miles away to get away from family, and I'm still messed up in everything. And I wish so much that I could just forget about it, and pretend it doesn't all exist, but I can't do that. Because it's a big fucking great big mess and I worry too much and can't switch my sodding brain off.

And it's not just the family issues. It's everything. And I mean everything! At all times of the day I have a million things being worried about in my head. I worry that I can't stop Lexie peeing on the damn bed. I worry that someone I care about it is going to get mugged or attacked randomly. I worry about the floods in Memphis - I don't even know anyone in flipping Memphis. I worry about the friends of a friend who live in Japan. I worry about being depressed forever. I worry about having to throw away some milk because it's expired, but I shouldn't be throwing food away cos there are people in the world starving. I worry about my current situation with Neil. I worry about whether or not my friends are still talking to me when I haven't heard from them in a day or two. I worry that Smudge isn't happy anymore. I worry about whether the pain in my chest is a heart attack or angina or something. I worry about whether that headache is a migraine. I worry about whether or not I make too much noise for my downstairs neighbour. I worry about whether that low rumble is thunder, or a truck, or a bomb gearing up to explode somewhere. I worry about EVERYTHING. All the freaking time. And the only thing that stops it is sleep. Except for when the worrying becomes nightmares and I wake up crying, or sweating, or shaking. It sucks. I want a lobotomy.

And I'm just generally feeling crappy at the moment. I've been episodey for a week, and every day some new little thing happens that just makes me feel worse. Like the baking. In the past few days I've made peanut butter muffins, a delicious toad-in-the-hole and an absolutely exquisite apple crumble. And I've had no one to share it with. I'm developing this skill and talent and delight in baking, but I have no one to bake for. So I can make the Butter Pecan cookies I have a recipe for, but there's no one to try them, and eating them all by myself probably isn't good for me either.
I'm so pathetic and lonely I have no one to bake for.

And lonely is definitely the word for it. I have three friends. Three fucking friends! One of them is my ex-boyfriend I shouldn't even be talking to, anyway. One of them is very busy caught up in work and in moving in with her boyfriend and I've barely seen her in months. The other one went home for two weeks and I missed his company like crazy, and was really excited for when he got back, but he's barely spoken to me since and I know he's injured himself and is busy, but I'm crazy and paranoid and insecure and I feel like he's mad at me or is avoiding me. So I worry about that.

And I'm not dealing so well with the Neil thing. I love him. Every single part of me loves him. I love him as much as I did when we first met. My heart still does flippity flops when I look at pictures of him, or when I see a text from him on my phone. And yes, I was unhappy with the situation we were in, but I am so much more unhappy without him. I hate that he's not a part of my life anymore. I hate it. I want to take it back. I want to go back to how we were. And as much as not talking to him would kill me, talking to me is kind of killing me too. I have to be careful about what I say to him, for the first time since before we met. I've never, ever, had to think about holding back before. I've always been able to tell him absolutely anything. And now we talk, and we're friends, but I can't tell him that I miss him like crazy and want so much to be in his arms. I can't tell him that I love him.

I kinda hate life as it is at the moment. I'm rapidly heading out of episodey and right slap bang into Episode. There are several things I know can get me out of it, and I can't get any of them. I can't get compliments or cuddles from Neil. I'm out of ice cream, and the chocolate in the fridge is designated for those cookies. I can either have the three cans of ravioli in the cupboard, or use my grocery money to buy a curry, or more ingredients for ice cream. Or I can do Something Stupid. And right now, Something Stupid is incredibly appealing. Other alternative, curling up and crying myself to sleep. I'm good at that. I do it a lot.

Internet Disillusionment

I have a lot of mental issues. Aside from my depression, I also have a problem with agoraphobia. It's been a lot easier to manage in recent years, but ten years ago I'd have a panic attack whenever I left the house. So I didn't leave. I found comfort and companionship in the internet.

I LOVE the internet. You can find anything and everything you want somewhere online, and probably things you don't want to find too. There was a time when even if I didn't see or speak to a person in weeks, I was never lonely, because I had a whole community of friends online. From all over the world. So at any time of day or night, whatever was on my mind, I always had someone to talk to.

Things have changed a lot since then. I moved, and my agoraphobia subsided. I went to university, I met people IRL. I became a little more normal. But then I had my big breakdown, and dropped out of university, and had major money issues, and stopped getting regular bus tickets, and stopped going out and...

I deny it. Whenever anyone mentions that I don't go out, I tell them that it's just because I have nowhere to go. But it's more than that. I don't WANT to go out. I don't have anywhere to go, but I could go for a walk. I started to, when I was activating the Puppy Plan. Then I broke up with Neil and didn't go out for walks anymore. A part of me wants to go out for a walk, but a bigger part of me really, REALLY doesn't want to leave the house. There are lots of things I could do. I could use £3 on a payday to get a dayrider and ride the buses around randomly... I enjoy that. Or I could go for a walk. I could just go and sit on the grass across the road and read a damn book. But I don't want to. I'm lonely, but Inside is safe, and Outside is not. I don't know what I think will happen. I just want to stay indoors where I'm safe. And yes, I'm fully aware that this is a problem that needs dealing with, but it's not actually why I'm writing.

I've lived in solitude before, and wasn't lonely. But I'm lonely now. In the past I've had "text harems". A dozen people I could text when I was feeling blue, or just bored. Now there are 41 contacts on my phone and only 9 of them are actual people as opposed to businesses. Most of those are family. There are precisely three people I can talk to when I'm bored or miserable. One is too busy with work. One is my exboyfriend who I'm still in love with and probably shouldn't even be talking to. One currently has enough problems of his own.

Aside from missing the text harem, the internet is starting to feel like a lonely place too. I talk to dozens of people, but mostly on the Ravelry swaps I run, and people there are usually annoyed with me being so OCD and persistent about my listkeeping and checks. My MSN contacts list has only a few people on it, and most of them are never online (or have me blocked). I have 37 friends on Facebook, and nearly all of them are family. Social networking is HUGE at the moment... so how come I don't have any friends? Am I really that repulsive that even my online persona isn't worth talking to?

How I'm Feeling Right Now

Shit. Crap. Rubbish. Lonely. Stupid. Miserable. Pathetic.

There. That's how I'm feeling right now. I was feeling much better than that earlier. Chatting on MSN with a handsome Scotsman. And by "chatting" I mean "flirting". Made me feel lovely. But then he decided to do a disappearing act, and now I feel foolish and pathetic.

Smudge is still hissing at Lexie. Lexie is the new kitten, by the way. They haven't fought, and Lexie doesn't run and hide. She'll stand her ground, hair on end, not looking happy while Smudge hisses and growls and hisses and growls. And I know that it'll wear off, even though it might take a few weeks, but I'm tired and upset and the hissing is really grating on my nerves.

I'm lonely. I don't have a lot of family I'm close to, but even the ones I could hang out with are hundreds of miles away. One of my three friends has been far too busy for me in months, and hasn't been bothered to check on me since I broke up with Neil. I think the second friend is asleep. And the third friend is Neil - who I think has decided we shouldn't be talking, since he hasn't replied in a day or two. Plus, I can't really talk to him about how I feel.

That's it. All my sources of comfort and support and distraction. I like my own company; I like having control over everything in my home and things. And in a social situation I'd much rather be with a few close friends somewhere quiet than with hundreds of people in a nightclub or a festival. But right now, when I feel lost and pathetic, I just feel alone and horrible. How pathetic am I that the only cuddles and comfort I can get is from cats?