Time Indifferent

I'm different. I accept that. 

I am 21 and something. I have a job. I have friends and a boyfriend. I appear normal. But am I?

Sixteen

My eyelids stay shut
I won't let them move
They are all that's keeping me here
Keeping that wave upon the sand

I step out in dress and shoes
A vision of crimson
Pose Smile Flash
Frozen in time

Sunshine filters through
Everything invites me in
Clasp tight upon my breast
Verbose Gumption

Wind Ice Sunrise
Running along the dune
Directors Cut

He traces
Love on my belly
Safety a vague identity

The ocean rushes
Wave reclaimed
Dreams shattered
Eye's awake

Seventeen

When you're failing english
I am there, study notes in hand

When you're fighting with your boyfriend
I am there, listening

When youre abandoned by your friends
I am there, sitting by your side

Yet when I'm failing science
You couldnt care less

When I'm crying over a friend
So sit there and say nothing

When you abandon me
Well thats that 

Eighteen 


Would they even notice?
If I went insane?

Would they even care?
If I went insane?


Would they even talk to me?
If I went insane?

What if suddenly?
I just stopped talking?
or stopping running around?

Would they even help?

Would they even notice?
If I went insane?

No! They'd be too embarrassed! 
Too horrified and ashamed!


Twenty-One 

Are things really different to then?
No?
Yes? 
Even I can't answer that.......

Into Darkness

Today I woke up, showered and then put on the same clothes I wore to bed. I was exhausted. I'm sleepy and sad and too tired to even make tea or food. Because what's the point?

I am 21 and yesterday my manager informed me I have no hours due to Easter. I cried, but then realised it didn't matter because I don't go out anymore anyway. Going out means putting on a bra and mental make up. It means working so hard to project an image that I'm ok and that I won't scream or claw at my skin in the street- even though I want too, every hour of every day.

I have a boyfriend, whom every day tries so hard to love me and yet whom I feel indifferent too. He may be the best thing that's happened to me in years and I know it but I can't feel it. My mind tells me I love him, but I can't remember the last time my body felt excited in his presence, that I felt like his actual girlfriend and not just a sock doll with painted on lips and eyes.

Some days are better than others, some days I can get up, clean the house, drink half a bottle of something and appear happy and normal to the world. But days like today I can't. I see no point in getting out of bed and question why I even bothered to shower.

At first depression is a really sad stage- we cry and drama to our friends and slowly but surely push them away. But as the disease advances- we stop caring, we feel horrible numbness and darkness and become committed to hiding it when we do venture to the world. I talk to my friends all the time on Facebook, but they never know what's going on inside.

Everything irritates me, and anything can set me off- So I try not to leave my room and my doona. For the first time in my life I am experiencing not just the emotional symptoms of depression but the physical too- and that really scares me.

All I want is to be normal, have energy and be able to get up and do things like normal people. I want to be beautiful and skinny and have a good job and wear nice clothes and a group of friends. But that will never be normal for me.  If I can write half a job application today- then that's something big.

Quite often it feels impossible to explain my definition of 'normal' but I imagine it's like the weather......in Melbourne. On average I get 180 days of sunshine a year if I'm lucky and even then I can go from freezing cold to sweltering heat to pouring rain to dust storms in the space of 30 mins.

Do you know how hard it is to study or work like that? When some days you feel like you never grew out of puberty with your hormones and others you just don't see the point of getting out of bed. My illness isn't a choice and I can't just get over it. It's a cage and I really don't have control over how I feel.

Convincing people that I'm not faking it or lazy or have a vicious personality or am attention seeking is hard. I even struggle to convince doctors sometimes. "Just because you don't understand it, Doesn't mean it isn't real to me!" is what I feel like screaming sometimes, but I don't because even then they'd laugh at me.

I am not writing this to garner attention or pity but to try and explain what it's like from the inside out.

T.V Series- What they really represent!

It's Thursday night and you've just ditched your girlfriend's offer to cook for you- Why? Because hello! Season finale of HIMYM

We're all guilty of 'watching one episode' to check out a series before quickly proceeding to binge for the next 48 hours straight. You become personally invested in the series, the characters and their stories! Then you go outside and realise that no one else is particularly devastated, much less cares, about the death of George O'Malley (Grey's Anatomy- if you haven't watched past Season 5 then we really can't be friends!)

You're not part of a fandom, no you're not obssessed- you just can't go to bed without playing the soothing sounds of the "Battlestar Galactica" Soundtrack as your bedtime lullaby.......

Admittedly some of these binge sessions aren't the worst things that could happen!

My list of top series (in no particular order) and my ever accurate assessment!

The O.C (2003-2007)- Assuming you were a first gen O.cer, it ultimately gave you unrealistic expectations of adolescence, high school and guys. However it  was the better "Team *cute guy" debate (Sorry but Twilight does NOT compare to Seth vs. Ryan) and it did make geek's sexy- Cheers Seth!.

Friends (1994-2004) - There is a reason this show lasted a decade. No matter how many times you watch it- Chandler Bings 'bad' humor never gets old. Sure it played on cliched character stereotypes but that didn't make it any less entertaining. Friend's may have ended a decade ago - someone hand me a walking cane!, but it's re-runs have become emotional chicken noodle soup.

Grey's Anatomy (2005-Present) So it's basically the Bridget Jones of t.v series and the best threat of punishment for misbehaving boyfriends since the invention of DFO's. Admitting you like Grey's Anatomy is a little like publically admitting you enjoy cheap wine: You don't want to admit you've gained motivation from the narration of an otherwise glorified soap opera, that you know Eric Dane and Patrick Dempsey only as "McSteamy" and McDreamy" or that you were secretly heartbroken after they killed off ******** at the end of season ******* (Still not as many deaths as Game of Thrones!). Oh I forgot- It also gave unrealistic expecta.......just kidding- There's no such thing as an ugly doctor!

Star Trek (BC- 2005)- Everyone has a Star Trek story and I've formed deep relationships with lecturers, coworkers and friends based on the knowledge of what "The Borg" refers to. That being said I've also almost lost relationships over who the better captain was. Star Trek has the brilliance of combining realistic to achieve sci-fi with morality and really epic quotes. It really did make a lot of radical concepts - like being a woman, black, asexual, or nerdy totally accept to society - just as long as you are wearing a really flattering jumpsuit.

Battlestar Galactica (2004-2009) - Every series has their identifier, so why not have yours be the power to curse constantly on prime time t.v and make technosexuality appealing?. Of course there's the brilliant plot line and beautiful interaction between politics, religion and science and you really do love Roslin's 'visions' on 'kamala root' and Adama's "Come at me Bro" attitude but lets be honest- The only things anyone ever remembers about BSG is that Six and Baltar and that pilot chick have the sex life most of us dream of.

How I Met Your Mother (2005-2014) - Barney's real life counterpart may be the guy we avoid at all costs, but who hasn't read the Bro Code? Who hasn't found themselves personally identifying with any of the other characters? and who hasn't celebrated the fact the world's most legen.....wait for it.....dairy straight dude is in fact played by a gay guy?

Dexter (2006-2013) - Only in America would writers contrive a way to make psychopathic serial killers sexy and appealing to the general public. I never had the misfortune of getting addicted to Dexter- mainly because after watching two episodes I developed a hyper suspicion of every tall, blonde and muscular guy I knew. However those two episodes I watched did leave me with a disconcertingly blase attitude towards blood.

House (2004-2012) - In reality- if you had Dr House as your doctor, you'd be screwed. In the magical world of television though- this guy is a legend. Not only does he get away with being a total jackass but the series also reinvented the concept of "Wilson!". It goes without saying that serious credit goes to the writers of this series, even if it did make life slightly harder for people who genuinely do have Lupus!

Game of Thrones (2011-Present) - Haven't actually watched this since I'm involved in politics and hence don't need too, but from what I hear it's the mother of all soul gathering, overly dramatic and lets kill off everyone in the series there is - See my point? In fact - Just join a political party


Happy Weekend Folks!

The Art of Losing

They say dying is easy and it probably is. Living is really god damn hard.

Recently I was put in a position I'd never been in before. I was put between 2 sets of friends, both of whom had valid arguments. I never got as far as studying diplomacy in I.R, and I haven't watched all of TNG so maybe that was it. I made a snap decision to take the middle road and thought that was the safest bet. It wasn't.

Once you get past the apologies, the tears, the fighting and defending your case you're left with the reality. You're left with the acceptance of several different stories of what happened, a knowledge that only time will amend, and that for now all you can do is focus on moving one forward in front of the other. You accept that your life will never be the same again and that you can longer think more than 10mins ahead. There's no point in fantasizing about an alternate future because that may never exist.

"And when that life turned against us, we comforted ourselves in the knowledge that it really wasn't our fault, not really. You cannot play God then wash your hands of the things that you've created. Sooner or later, the day comes when you can't hide from the things that you've done anymore"

You recall what you've survived in the past and try to accept that this to is another thing you'll have to learn. That those who lined your footpath, all those other times you learned to walk again, are no longer there and it's all on you now kiddo. How hard you fight is up to you, no one is measuring your success now. This is rock bottom and it's your chance to build yourself from scratch .

..............................................

A few weeks later.......

In time things get easier. You still fight your demons each day, but you know that you can get up and go to coffee shop with the man who, despite the odds,  is falling for you. You find a way to accept your empty bank account and smile at your Ikea bed. Your life isn't the glorious whirlwind of going to the gym and advancing yourself beyond expectation like you thought- but you're alive and you've survived and you'll continue to do so.

You still deeply miss hearing your best friend telling you to grab your gun and bring in the cat and you're terrified of tomorrow. You gain clarity in realising it wasn't the end of the world  because no matter what happens next you're walking on your own two feet and you are still here. Besides, the art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities but it wasn't a disaster

That awkward moment when..........

Once, on a school trip to visit universities, which was designed mostly to convince my grade that the HSC wasn't just "That little quiz before Schoolies", a friend of mine Percy had great difficulty with one of the lecture desk-chairs. It was my introduction to the 2011 craze of "That awkward moment when......"

Thing is, back in 2011, I didn't realise that in the coming years I was about to become the Queen of Awkward Moments! Worst of all most have involved meeting boyfriends or friends parents. 

Now, I'm not particularly proud of the time that my then boyfriends father walked past an open window and saw parts of my body his son hadn't even seen up close yet, or when I found myself explaining to my friend's very dignified and sophisticated English mother what a MILF was.

 But the icing was truly laid thick on the cake when whilst at work the other night I was greeted warmly by a gentleman whom I instantly realised was probably of some vague but largely important significance to my life. In my defence, I was totally in the lock and load serve people mode. However I'm not sure that excuses the fact I didn't recognise WILL"S FATHER.

So remember- No matter how embarrassed you're feeling right now. I can promise you- I've done worse  

Culinary...........Yeah lets call them "Triumphs"

Late last night I was going through my phone and attempting to clear out some of the 1058 photos.........Let's face it, that was NEVER going to end well!

Now aside from the 500+ selfies and 'whose body part is that?" a large majority of the photos depict a strangely accurate timeline of my 'evolution' as a chef since leaving home. 

There was many a great phase in my time-

The deserts phase-  Caramel slice, Pancake wars* and bourbon with a side of trifle ......... well you get the point.

The enough-pasta-to-feed-a-village-in-Africa-for-a-month-phase- Vegetarian goo (errr I mean mac and cheese) and tuna pasta,

The 'classy' organic hippy phase- maple salmon and spinach & fetta pie made with pastry that was more or less the consistency and flavor of cement

The um what phase- the eggs that were half frozen when I cracked them and the brownies that were referred to for over a year as "pompeii" (Sadly not photographed),

The vegetarian phase- trademarked mostly by attempts at paneer curry and homemade spinach "naan" (aka half baked dough that was fed to a very very drunk Alex)

Don't worry, I've since 'evolved' to making sure I live within sneezing distance of as much takeaway as possible


*Pancakes shown were actually made by Alex, I can't make pancakes to save my life

Part 5: Acceptance

This is part 5 of a five part series on grief. Given the five stages of grief never come in order, neither will these posts. 

Tonight I passed my ex and his girlfriend on the street and it reminded me of this, a piece I wrote several months ago shortly after we broke up. 

DEFECTIVE

When I was 15, I became defective. 

Lose the romance, lose the drama, lose the statistic. I became defective

It wasn’t really something I did or said and yet it wasn’t really something that happened to me. It just was.

It was that when I looked at myself in the mirror years later I saw something that had occured without existing.

That to say I was defective, broken to begin with was somehow easier to understand than what had actually happened to me.

I remember at a Hare Krishna Service once and hearing them talk about how modern knowledge was trying to interpret and understand experience whilst veydic knowledge gave a complete understanding. That’s what it felt like to me and that's what I'm still searching for. This is a whole thing to me, not just a piece that others perused over and tried to equate and comprehend. 

I always took great comfort in statistics, except when it came to this. They say 1 in 3 are defective, and so, so many times I would sit there with my friends and the knowledge that I was the defective one.

“It wasn’t your fault” is the mantra of everyone- from your therapist, to your best friend, to the guy you just tried to sleep with. But you never see it that way. Least of all when you realise what happened has made you defective.

Sure we find ways to laugh about it, smile and repeat the story like we’re reading off an order at a restaurant. In time we form comfort in the siblinghood of statistics and a tainted warping of “Solidarity Forever”.

For a few years the victim card is a comfort, a curtain to hide behind when the fear of attraction knocks on your door. But as time progresses you inevitably find yourself seeing it as a prison, the past a devils snare that infects you with an inability to relax.

You find yourself sick to the stomach, crying and pleading with life to make you normal. This entrapment infects you with other things. Mental things, that like the defectiveness itself you become dissolved in hiding.

And yet you also play scientist and engineer. Constructing your own little crutches to try and fix it. Seeking ways to survive medical examinations and partially repair other systems damage, or at least build up an arsenal and ready weapons control.

I wish there was a happy ending, and for a moment I thought there was. But a brief antidote became more venom of the snare and once again I was left staining the sheets and crying for forgiveness, pleading for absolution from this personified hell.

Those who tell you dying is easy are probably right. I won’t say my life is easy or hard. Yet it just is. 

.....................

Tonight when I passed my ex we stopped momentarily. In that second he looked at me a said "Wow". Wow it is indeed, that even though I felt like dying when he left me, tonight I accepted that it happened and I am ok.

Things happen in our lives that are hard and painful, but eventually we gain that the acceptance of life and that our life is as it is. For all we've lost, for all we've gained. It is. We find our serenity