Leaving …

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This should be a catch-up post as I have been gone for a couple of weeks. The reason for my absence is that I was in hospital. Coming to that conclusion was probably not too far a stretch for anyone who checks in here regularly.

I am not going to write out the story of how I managed to evade hospitalisation on a Friday night 2 weeks ago even though I was sectioned for a few hours only to end up being admitted on the following Monday. I’m also not going to describe the people, food or surroundings that is the psychiatric hospital experience; many of you have been there and I think those descriptions/stories can wait …

For the record, I am still homeless. I have been out of hospital less than 24 hours, I am missing my dog like crazy, and I am staying with what appears to be a mid-level drug dealer who seems intent on using up the (very) little money I have on smokes and other niceties .. actually, that isn’t a fair description of him but I have the feeling this little rooming arrangement, which is to be a week or so at the most, is going to be a post of its own so, I will also come back to that.

A rather large amount of writing stating what I am not going to write about, and this is how I feel: gluggy, unsure, kinda shell-shocked and most definitely at crossroads.

The hospital has put me on anti-psychotic meds and they are doing their job – I am most certainly not psychotic but I don’t think I ever was.

The medicated me is the one who comes to accept. She accepts that the world is basically boring, ordinary, predictable, manufactured and she quietly gets in line with everybody else to do/be/have/make/know the ‘correct’ way to live and to love.

I prefer the other me, the one who screams ‘fuck that’ at acceptance and struggles to find a different way, even if she does fail most of the time.

I don’t understand myself on meds, I don’t understand how the me who rages at the banality of the world can possibly allow herself to just lie down .. to accept. Yes, my life becomes easier, more comfortable, more safe …. Is that what we should be striving for? Comfort and safety? I am terrified of losing me to the meds; of accepting/wanting … comfort and safety.

Trying to write this post even feels like a struggle, like writing through glue.

I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to be OK with this fucked-up and narcissistic, money worshipping culture that is populated by assholes.

Fuck it.


Blurry memories

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I’m sad today that the last memory I take with me from the Pup-who-lives-down-the-road is him refusing to hug me when we were saying our goodbye. It had been a tough day for us both and we were really struggling to communicate, but just like the previous ex, there seemed to be a need to inflict humiliation. I really hate that this is my memory of him. The boy who couldn’t get enough of me got more than he bargained for or wanted .. .

I have nothing else that seems tangible except a picture I took to show my friend B how this rather presumptuous young pup had stolen my bed and all I wanted to do was drink his vodka … I never took any other pictures.

It’s only been a few weeks and I can barely recall what he looked like. And that seems so very sad.


Dumped, sectioned and kinda homeless

worst-apoc
It’s been another ‘dear diary’ couple of days.

After the pup got back with a bucket of drugs, we talked for a while and I asked him what/why things had changed between us .. he told me that he cannot respect anyone who cuts themselves and that looking at my wrist is disgusting to him. That was the gist of it, he is basically freaked out and I have scared away yet another guy. Given that this is someone who takes drugs and drinks every day, can’t hold a job for more than a few days, who gets into fights and manages to piss off pretty much everyone around him, it was kinda rich to sit in judgement of me I thought.

I did point out that he had not long ago turned up at my doorstep in the middle of the night after a fight, covered in blood, and with all of his belongings and I just listened, didn’t judge and never brought it up again. Apparently however, this was me trying to make my issues about him .. or something like that … I can tell you that we tried to communicate for around 3 hours but I am unsure that either one of us understood even one thing the other was saying, we quite literally speak different languages.

The good thing about this is that I am not heartbroken or anything, he was too young, he was not a good influence and it was going to end at some point soon anyway.

The withdrawal of (his) sexual interest hurts because of what happened with my ex, which has been exacerbated this week by our awful email exchange last week and because, well, that shit hurts. The withdrawal of it due to my ‘issues’ with self harm compounds that.

After he left, I got a call from the hospital where I had surgery last week to check in on me and I was drunk, high on meth and kinda freaked out due to the hours with the pup and the dumping  … I told them I couldn’t deal with them right that moment and that I was going to the park … and they called the police.

Be careful using the words ‘can’t deal with’ when talking to mental health professionals as they take that a tad literally.

Given that I really was high on meth and coming across as a bit manic, the police decided to section me and I found myself back at the hospital yet again. Shit is getting old.

I called my friend from work and he came and got my dog and after a 4-hour wait, I finally got to chat to 2 psychs and they cleared me to go home.

Except, I couldn’t go home because I didn’t have my rent and gilbo-the-flatmate-from-hell is not the type of guy that you can discuss this with and I was too freaked out to go home. So, I came back to where the guy from work lives to catch my breath and think, and stop crying, and dry out.

However, I ended up going to a friend’s house last night, well, there was 3 of us and I drank a boatload of Jack Daniels, took some Ritalin, some Xanax and stayed up all night talking. I woke up on the opposite end of Sydney and had to sneak my dog onto the train and take a 2-hour ride home.

As I was walking in the door, I got a text from gilbo-the-flatmate-from-hell to advise me that as my rent is now 48 hours late, he has put my things on the front verandah and if they are not collected by tomorrow afternoon, he will have them removed.

So, I am officially homeless now … not sure what to say on that one .. it sorta speaks for itself huh??

The guy from work that I have been staying with, and who has been such a good friend has realised that I am not going to sleep with him. And, although he is too good a person to just throw me out, he has been pretty clear that I need to deal with my shit tomorrow and find somewhere to stay etc … and I can’t blame him for that whatsoever.

No idea what tomorrow will bring or how it will arrive.

No idea what I will do about any of it.

Just wanted to punch it out on here … and yeah, it’s the short version.


That’s like this one time … at band camp

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So .. I nearly got sectioned again today. 

I was on the phone to social security who had promised they could help me out with rent/money and then it turned out they couldn’t and I had a mini-meltdown, hung up and she called the police … and hour later (and it took an hour) I managed to convince the lovely constables that I was not a danger to myself or society at large and they took my phone number and are now calling every hour.

The pup turned up with alcohol, has just left to get drugs … have a feeling tonight is gonna be a dear diary thing …

I always wondered how a true event horizon would feel like ….

Ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight???


No more delusions please …

I am still really stuck on the horrible email exchange from the other night between the ex and myself. 

I am not sure if being told that the year we spent sharing each other was, really, nothing more than a fuck in a toilet or, if being called delusional for trying to find some peace and sincerity from that year despite what happened (what he did) is what is affecting me the most.

I think it’s the delusional part.

I don’t think anybody has ever said anything so intentionally cruel to me …


Why exes fucking suck.

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I recently mentioned my inadvertent visit to my ex last Sunday

You know, the one who ripped my still-beating heart out of my chest last November by dumping me 9 days after I flew 4000kms to be with him?? This happened because I was triggered from the pup. I reached out to the ex, he was keen to hear from me, we talked on the phone for a couple of hours, we skyped, we flirted a bit and he asked me to come and see him … but .. it ended up with me being extremely drunk (well, I had been drinking all day at that point), loaded with xanax (courtesy of the ex) and walking out of the his house with a ‘fuck this’ in his general direction. I don’t even remember getting home. I am still completely stunned that he let me leave in that condition but … not the point.

Point is, about a week had elapsed and I figured I would do the right thing and email to apologise for my behaviour and also to let him know that I had had a dream about him that was actually kinda sweet and when I woke, I realised that although I am far, FAR from over the damage he has inflicted, said damage is not stitched to him anymore; that I was able to look to him with some detachment and warmth, and I wanted to share that with him.

I didn’t actually really expect to hear back from him as he really hates it when I /anybody is drunk and I was reaaaaallllllly drunk so, I figured that he would be too disgusted to get back to me.

But he did …. hoboy .. did he.

What follows are the slightly redacted-for-the-purposes-of-protecting-the-privacy-of-those-involved but this is almost word for word what was exchanged. I include it all for entertainment purposes only and to remind everyone out there: DO NOT CONTACT YOUR EX … EVER .. NEVER, EVER.

EVER.

On with the show

My original email

Hey.

I’m having somewhat of a day of reckoning (as far as such things go) and I
didn’t want to bother you (on the one hand) but, I just woke up from a
dream (thank you barking doggie) and although I am certainly not one to attribute
real life in terms of fate or dreams or the sight of 4 ravens on the
fence, but I had a smoke and decided to write this.

I am sorry about what happened when I went to see you. To be completely
honest, I have very little memory of it except I know I was already drunk
and had leftover coke in my system and it kinda divebombed from there.

Fact is, I really needed somebody to just be there that day and I am
extremely grateful that you tried to be, even if I did fuck it up.

Things actually got progressively worse after I left you. The Monday and
Tuesday of last week were are a blur .. there was a bucketload of more
alcohol and some crystal meth and too much sex and then the inevitable
crash. I ended up in surgery on Thursday night but only because a guy from
work called, got antsy when I didn’t answer the call and came over here to
make sure I was OK. I really wasn’t.

This past year or so … ever since going home from Sydney last year …
have just triggered me beyond belief. And yes, that is tied to and started
with you but it is too far along now to keep using that as a reason. I
keep letting men, or in this current case, a boy into my life who simply
are not capable of doing the right thing and I don’t know why I am drawn
to that, or how to stop it happening but it kinda began with you.

This latest boy has spent a couple of months professing all kinds of thing
to me and chasing me like I was the last woman on earth. I think the sex
was a big part of that (!!), he seemed pretty addicted to that part, but
it went beyond that. And for the first month or so I was not bothered by
any of it. he was very pretty and very sweet and entirely fucked up ..
just my type really. But he is very fucked up even by my standards, and
between the drugs and the alcohol and the going out all the time (every
night) and the losing of jobs weekly .. he just doesn’t stop and it has
been exhausting even watching him from the sidelines.

But he also kept at me emotionally until I began to get attached .. and,
of course, that is when the problems start. I don’t really understand it,
I didn’t want or need the emotional crap, but he pushed and pushed .. I
don’t really get it at all [name]. But I know emotions are not your big
thing so, perhaps I am asking a large brown bear why life is so hard and
expecting answers there. But, I don’t really get why men want to drag me,
sometimes kicking and screaming into the emotional and then look at me
dumbfounded when they find themselves looking into the abyss. He can be
the sweetest of men when he is just here, with me, but the demons he is
running from override everything constantly and he crushes and destroys
everything in his path. Ending up in surgery last week was almost
inevitable really.

I understand that you don’t have any answers for me, nor do you owe me any
.. I’m not asking for them really. But as I said, I had this dream … and
it involved you: it was at my sister’s house and I was in a very large bed
and, for some reason you were there to.

You kind of reached for me with your hand and we had this delicate moment
of intertwining hands and just resting next to each other and I felt very
safe and warm … I NEVER have dreams such as this. I have sex dreams but
even they turn violent at some point. I have perhaps had similar like this
but I don’t ever recall one if I have. I guess I wanted to say both that I
am sorry and that my thoughts of you are somehow tied to the person that I
was before I met you. I am no longer that woman, perhaps I never really
was .. I am not sure, but I found her again in that dream.  I figure that
you tried to teach me not to be so trusting and to try and not put my
emotional self on the line so much .. well, maybe you didn’t try to teach
me that but it is what I should have learned from you, I just didn’t.

This is all a very long-winded way for me to try and say that I am both
sorry for what I did and that I am kinda afraid that I won’t ever get the
chance to say that to you if I don’t do it now. I’m pretty sure that you
don’t really want to hear any of this but perhaps one day you will be able
to read it with the intent of which it is being written.

You see, it doesn’t really matter to me how or when you lied to me or
about what. Not any more. I am pretty sure that there were moments, even
for you, where it wasn’t lies. I am indescribably bad at untangling the
difference between what a man is telling me and what he really means and
that is definitely going to be the end of me it seems. But, at this last
juncture, I just want you understand how very much you meant to me during
all of that time, and how, even now, when I think of you, I do so with
warmth. I have shaken off the shame and embarrassment of having loved you
when you felt no such thing for me, I can live more easily with that these
days.

I have no epiphany to end this with, so I am just going to end it. It is
what it is. But I hope you can forgive me my trespass one day, I am lost
and struggling and I am sorry that you wore some of that.

I hope you are doing OK with your xanax withdrawal and that you find some
answers to how, if at all that affected you.

I am reluctant to say goodbye in this email because it really feels like
goodbye this time.

[me]
xx

His response #1

Hi [me],

The thing is, despite what you might think, benzodiazepines don¹t dull my
senses and/or emotions.
I¹ve always been this way – as far back as I can recall.

Your childhood was frought with abuse and abandonment so these are both
characteristics you¹ve inherited and at the same time, struggle to oppose.

For years I felt that blaming one¹s parents was a total cop-outŠ until I
came back to live in Sydney.
My upbringing wasn¹t as obviously traumatic as yours.
My parents were emotionally cruel but in very VERY sly, slow and subtle
ways. This was a very slow and systematic form of abuse where there just
was a total void of love, affection and strength.
They trained me not to love – not invest in people – not to invest in
myself and the result is a loner who jumps from person to person – from
woman to woman and I can¹t defend myself from any criticism about that
aspect of meŠ but I¹m trying to see when it starts happening and to break
it when it begins.

There really only was one moment between you and me: to act out the very
first fantasy that took place on [redacted] Road in the toilet of the
overgrown house. That was the eternal moment. It literally began and ended
there. It¹s really ³really² harsh. A true sodomal rape fantasy that was
successfully carried out and completed exactly as it was dreamed up.

I sacrificed everything for that one moment and once I had, there was no
turning back on any track.
Nothing else between you and I would ever compare to that one moment again
– but like any addictive drug, one hunts the moment of clarity down again
and again.

Without trying to seem pompous or to tell you what to do, I would strongly
suggest getting on back to [hometown] and returning back to your role as a
[my old job], because your future here will be one of diminishing returns. The
Cross is not fantastic – to burst your bubble for one moment here. It¹s
all fairy light and cockroaches. You¹ll wind up living with people who
will squeeze you out of everything and develop a nasty habit which you
won¹t be able to kick, and from there on, a downward spiral into
homelessness. It¹s too easy – once you¹ve kicked the job and succumbed to
Sydney¹s reality.

Go back to lovely [place I am from and do my old job]. That gave you (I
think) a vast amount of self-satisfaction – quite independent of other
people¹s views and life styles. You still have all your stuff there in
storage, and let¹s not forget the iMac.

I really appreciate all the things you¹ve done for me and helped me out
with. That hasn¹t been forgotten, and, last weekend, when you told me you
were freaking out, I simply wanted to give you a portion of drugs that
would help you cool off and sleep. That was all I had in mind.

But I¹m not the same person you met, and you¹re not the same either – but
be that as it is, I truly feel Sydney is sink holeŠ cleverly disguised as
someŠ culture hub.

We can keep in touch, yet no more delusions please.

Cheers [me],

[him]

My response

I was actually just reaching out as a friend, or for a friend .. someone who knows me a little here and to let you know that I had a dream that  made me realise that I still think or thought of you warmly.
So, yes, I am definitely a little lost and definitely in need of a warm body and release.. but that was all it was. I don’t love you anymore, I got over that quite some time ago. 
I am astounded at  your response and your referral to me as delusional … I’m not at all sure what I was being delusional about or with or to … 
Your email could not have come at a worse time today … but thank you for telling me how it is and always was. 
His final response
Yeah – you always do this [me].
You make out that you were only trying to reach out and then whatever I say is obviously wrong and misconstrued and then you just contradict it at every point.
I honestly can’t be fucked anymore.
Play that game anyway you want.
It’ll be met with silence next time.
_____________________________
So … that all went well huh?
Time with the pup also  went pretty much as I thought it would. A bit if a hit n run session whereby we got high and then he asked me a lot of questions — a few about my arm and what ‘actually’ happened, but whenever I tried to answer him, he cut me off or changed the subject or proceeded to lecture me on the evils of drugs or some such thing.

He was incredibly patronising about how ‘everyone’ has dark days and I should enjoy the sunshine and wonderful day and not let ‘shit get to me’. I then got a lecture  about the dangers of drug use and how I should spend some time ‘thinking’ about my life .. sometimes, there just aren’t words …


Still waiting for the fat lady

bettiebad200
So, just to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am a complete fucking idiot, I am meeting with the pup today.

He sent me a text early this morning asking if I wanted to go halves with him getting high. I responded back that I had limited cash and couldn’t cover a half of anything … an hour or so later and he offered to put up the rest and then it kinda snowballed into a thing that is going to happen. It was meant to be happening an hour ago but I saw him at the park just a short while ago and he was only on his way out to pick up.

Now .. the thing about this is that exactly one week ago this exact same thing happened —- we got high, then drunk, then he bailed and left me climbing the walls and feeling abandoned.

There doesn’t seem to be a way to stop that scenario playing out the exact same way today/tonight.

I am shaking my head at myself and wondering exactly how many spankings it is going to take for me to stop doing this?