It’s the most wonderful time of the year

I am thinking that maybe this year is a good year to become a normal person and hate the holidays just like every other person in the planet.

I love (used to love) the holidays.

But I had an epiphany today.

When I was married, I spent all the holidays with my husband’s family. For 15 years, I never spent a christmas or a New Year’s Eve with my own family.

At that time, I never thought it odd. But now, I see how out of character that was for me. And then, it suddenly hit me.

I put thousands of miles between my family and I. Every year, they tell me how much they would like to have me there for the holidays.

And every year I tell them that yes, I would love to be there but unfortunately money is tight and flights are expensive so I can’t go. Which is not a lie but it isn’t the real reason either.

How do I tell them that I simply can’t go because they still live in the house where my mother was murdered?

How do I tell them that the minute I step on the doorway, I see my mother’s blood all over the couch and on the floor?

How do I tell them that every time I go visit I come back to Canada being a mess?

How do they do it? I have no idea. Perhaps they are stronger than me.

I don’t know.

Every year, as soon as December rolls in, I put up the christmas tree and play christmas songs hoping that I will be able to have a happy christmas.

But the truth is that I haven’t had a truly happy christmas since I was 5.

Then remember my daughter and how much she likes christmas – something she got from me, because when I was innocent of the brutality of this world christmas always used to be awesome.

I have been in denial for so long.

Follow up and Day Hospital

I’m upset so might I well blog about it, right?

Besides, I suppose I owe you all an update on my mental health.

I am home now. This is how it happened:

First, I got off ward privileges. It meant I could go for walks up to an hour a day, as long as I remained on the hospital grounds. That meant I could get a reasonably good coffee from Second Cup and enjoy the lovely Fall weather.

Then I got a day pass, which I spent with my daughter. I came home, play with the kitties, shaved my legs and my armpits, fell human again, and went for a lovely walk along the canal.

Last, I got a weekend pass. That meant going home on Friday at 2 pm and coming back to the hospital on Sunday at 9 pm. Then I’d be evaluated on Monday morning and it everything went well, go home.

Well, everything did go well, and I came home on October the 7th – now and outpatient, with a bunch of medication and an appointment for the Day Hospital program at the Civic Campus for October 16. Yes, that’s today. I’ll get to it in a bit.

Incidentally, during that weekend, my daughter and I finally went to see Star Wars Identities, the Star War exhibit at the Aviation & Space Museum. It was out of this world (pun intended). I highly recommend it if it ever goes to your town and if you are a Star Wars fans and a geek like me.

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No going out for me today

I got woken up by the pain today. That doesn’t happen very often as I am quite used to pain by now.

The cartilages of most of my ribs where they join the Sternum (costal cartilages) are tender at best and downright inflamed and painful at worst. It is a condition known as Costochondritis.

Today is one of those “at worst” days. I can feel the lumps, especially on my left side.

Costochondritis. © Mayo Clinic Foundation

In the image above, blue means normal cartilage. Red, means inflamed cartilage.

I guess that means I ain’t going anywhere today. No way I can wear a bra in this condition.

Oh well. It is too hot to go outside, anyway. Maybe I’ll try to do some drawing today. My sketch pad must be feeling very lonely.

When you get tired of drinking lemonade

*Warning* RANT ahead. Read at your own risk.

I am normally good about ignoring the bad things and focusing on the good things. Not in a “I-am-putting-all-in-a-pile-in-the-back-of-my-mind-and-OH-SHIT-WTF-is-this-monster-let’s-have-a-meltdown” kind but in a “If-I-have-to-do-this-at-least-I’ll-have-some-fun-while-I’m-at it” one.

In other words, I’ve spent all my life making [and drinking] lemonade. And that’s ok. I do have lots of fun as you all know. Sometimes I even make chocolate cake instead of lemonade.

Wish it were that easy

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Pain, my old friend

Pain shoots through my every vein

Pain my old friend, my bane.

 

Of my body

each cell you saturate

and every fibre of my soul,

as well.

 

Wrecked vessel so shoddy

perfect companion for pain,

my body is.

 

And my soul, what of it?

Nothing but another channel

for my old friend to exist.

 

Frida Khalo’s La Columna Rota (The Broken Spine)

 

“I hope the exit is joyful — and I hope never to return — Frida”.

And when you least expect it…

It corners you and hits you hard!

I’m not good at dealing with Anxiety attacks.  They are new for me.  I don’t know what to do, other than lie in bed while my tummy hurts like crazy.

[most of the time] I can feel the depression creeping in.  I am aware of it and I can take measures to stop it right on its tracks.  I’ve learned that through out the years.

But that’s not the case with me and anxiety.  Coming out of nowhere, it’s like Chuck Norris kicking me on my stomach.

Then I can’t think, I can’t do my job, I can’t do anything.

And it only started a few years back I don’t know what to do with it yet.

Stupid anxiety.  Stupid body.  Stupid me.

Le sigh

E.x.h.a.u.s.t.e.d.

I’m not one to easily give in to bitching and complaining.

Those who know me know that I am annoyingly cheery to the point of puking.  You know, the kind that always infuriatingly looking at the bright side of everything.

But HOLY FUCKING* FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER!

*The F-word was for Le Clown’s benefit

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