so what's new?

Well it's been a while. Up and down and up and down and all around and over again.

Right now I'm down. It's that time of the year again. Hey ho. I've done enough ranting about my moods on here that anyone who reads it will have heard it all before. Yawn.

Since the last blog post I have mostly seen:

* Alice Cooper

* Green Day

* Pink

I'm sure there's more, I just suck at the memory thing. I must say I have developed rather a little obsession over Pink. She's so hot I get hot flushes every time her songs come on the radio. Mmmm...

In other news I decided to do something random while drunk... nothing new there, but when the chanllenge is NaNoWriMo it's not exactly a spur of the moment thing. Anyway, 30 days and over 58,495 words later I am proud to post this pretty picture:

That's right... I kicked arse... and the T-Shirt to prove it is somewhere over the Atlantic heading for me. I am a geek. I will always be a geek. Embrace the geekdom.

That will do for now

Pushing them away

Why do I do it everywhere I go? The same pattern over and over and the only common denominator is me. I have always been an outsider, the little freak in the corner wishing, hoping and praying that someone would like me, that there would be another human being with whom I'd get that unmistakable bond of friendship that you see everywhere but in my life. You know, the one person that will be with you through thick and thin no matter what. Quarter of a century on and still nothing. I see people who were friends in school still best mates now, and I don't speak to one person from school, college or my first uni any more. Those I speak to from my second uni, well its sporadic at most, and never those whom I thought cared.

Like I said, the common denominator is me. I must shove everyone away deliberately. I have no idea why, except that perhaps I expect too much of people. I pour my heart out to them and scare them away because what goes on in my head is so majorly fucked up they don't want to know. It's not fair of me to expect people to be able to help me. This is my own fucked up, twisted world that I've created and I shouldn't drag anyone else into it. Hell, I bet noone is even reading this.

Time to stop whining, to hide in bed and hope I sleep then plaster on the happy face when I get up. Yes I know I'm a whiney emo.

I don't know what to say

I feel like shite.

I mean, how pathetic is it to be sat in front of my computer crying my eyes out? I miss my friends more than anything in the world. I mean, I miss my mum and dad but at least I've seen them since I moved and I can phone them etc. My friends? Nothing. It's the same cycle all over again. I think I belong somewhere and then it all goes wrong. I know I live on the other side of the country now, but would a text kill them? Maybe my paranoia wasn't paranoia and they really did just want to know me for what they could get? I don't want to think like that because I love them, but it's like they've forgotten I exist.

So here I am, crying, sat on my own but unable to pick up the phone and talk to someone. Is there something about me that makes me unable to form stable friendships? Do I expect too much from people? Then there are the thoughts that I hate, that I despise having; how I am insanely jealous of other people and their social circles. I want that, and because I can't have it I secretly want other people's lives to be as miserable as mine. That's just evil.

Will I have the balls to say any of this to the woman I'm going to see tomorrow? I doubt it. I'll just grin and answer the questions because that's what's expected.

I just want this all to stop. I can't cope like this.

So what to say...

It's been a while....

since I could hold my head up high...

No, let's not resort to staind lyrics, they're so fucking depressing. As if I need anything else to depress me at the moment. I feel like shite. I'm trying to be cheerful, I really am, it's just so damn difficult to act when I feel like this; constantly on edge and paranoid that something's going to go wrong, that I've messed up and will lose my job, that everyone hates me. This is what the CBT is supposed to be for but I can't say it's helping too much.

Right now I can't make sense of anything in my head, except that I have to urge to make a complete mess of myself. I'm on my second drink of the evening without having any dinner yet, and I don't think I actually want any. At least I seem to be losing some weight judging by the two inches I can pull a relatively new pair of jeans away from my waist but hey ho, it's probably just the fluoxetine. What a FAB side effect!

Bank Holidays

Bank Holidays mess with my head. I'm so confused, I have no idea what day it is. It wasn't helped by the fact while I had Good Friday off, I was in work on Saturday and then had another two days off. It feels like Sunday. Which means I'll get all confused again tomorrow, thinking it's Monday and that I have five days to get the week's work done when in reality I only have four. It may get a little stressful to say the least. Prepare for a slight breakdown people :P

Anyways, what have I done with my long weekend?

Friday = the Prodigy.

They were completely fucking awesome. The crowd, however, weren't. It was totally chavtastic. I've never felt so apart from a crowd at a gig before. Normally the music unites me and while the group are playing the crowd is one. This time it was just a bunch of pillheads mixed with a scattering of goths. Very bizarre. All in all I'll give it a 7/10. Good music, shame about the wankers and the 30 minute queue for a pint.

The rest of the weekend...

I was mostly being slightly disappointed by the new Red Dwarf episodes, but it kind of redeemed itself with the third part. To me, who's watched every episode at least 10 times, it just wasn't classic Dwarf. In fact I might have to start watching all of series 1 - 6 again just to purge the poor scripts from my brain. 

What else did I do? Pretty much fuck all actually, but isn't that what Bank Holidays are for?

Things I'm not supposed to say...

A couple of things I need to say somewhere that are probably going to make me sound completely crazy. Do I tell a therapist when I finally get to see one or stay quiet in my little world? It's really bizarre because while I know that these things are supposed to be false, flitting ideas that I shake off as delusional - and that's how I pretend to be; Most of me has the unerring belief that what I'm going to say is true but that I should keep quiet. Here's the two things that I've just realised I do actually believe are true and not just a fantasy.

My dreams tell the future

Not all of them, but I know when they do. It happened last week. I had a dream about something related to a study at work, a specific one. 4 hours later I was being told that it had to be repeated. If people split up with me I have a specific dream about a week before... 

My moods control the weather

If I feel bad and it's raining its because I feel bad. If it's sunny and I feel bad the weather is trying to make me feel worse by mocking me. It's windy when I'm anxious... 

Yes, I think in all possibility I may need locking up. 

So do I tell?

Seven: so I can't think of a relevant title

Let's start off with what my brain is telling me. Just to get it out in the open.

I am:

• Stupid
• Useless
• Ugly
• Pathetic
• Unwanted
• Waste of space
• a disappointment to all who know me
• a liar
• manipulative
• unloveable
• a freak

Well... maybe I should stop there. To sum the rest of it up I'm a bad friend and it's no wonder I always end up on my own. 

Now while, like everyone, I love hearing the opposite that is not the intention of this post. Seriously don't waste a comment on contradicting that list because I just had to write them down and make a 'hard copy'. I don't want sympathy, just maybe a bit of understanding. 

Now, we did a training at work as part of the 'diversity curriculum' (yes, I work for an American firm) and there was an exercise in it where you had to choose five words to describe yourself and then ask a variety of other people to anonymously describe you with five words. Not one person on my table could believe what other people had written about them, and there were very few correlations between what an individual thought of themselves and how others saw them. The other thing to note was how people had picked negative words to describe themselves. Is it human nature to always downplay your good points? Was that just modesty in the training session? If so then why were my words expressing my loneliness and insecurity amongst other things honestly all I could use to describe myself? 

I think beneath it all I know that it's merely the depression talking. The problem with this is that the depression and self hatred is far louder than any other part of me. It takes on a few different voices, just to scream at me in different ways what an idiotic notion it was to think that I could ever deserve to, let alone actually be happy. 

Right now I feel like I'm stuck in a rut. Every little criticism hurts to the core. I nearly burst into tears in work but thankfully the oversized safety specs and face mask I was wearing hid most of it. I'm almost 25 now for god's sake; I should be able to cope with suggestions for improvement because people are only trying to help. I want... no need, to be the best at something or to feel some sense of purpose. Nothing excites me any more. I can feel myself starting to push people away again and the dreams have started. I should be worried or scared that I will end up truly suicidal again but I'm afraid it's turned into a dull acceptance that I am going to die alone and things will never change. This cycle of being content and almost happy only to have it all dissolve into despair through noone's fault but my own. I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know where my life is going but right now... I can't see much of a future.

Six of one, half a dozen of the other

So I've not written for a couple of weeks. No idea why, I just suppose I didn't want to sprout the same old trash. Things are going OK; I had a great weekend with my mum and cousin - if a little hectic, I'm feeling a lot less lost in work and am feeling overwhelmed less often... Oh my god I just forgot Heroes was on! As you can probably tell my head still isn't right, my attention span and memory are what one would describe as 'shit'. 

I don't want this to turn into another post of me moaning about things, so to balance it out there's six things that get on my tits and half a dozen good things. Starting with the bad...

1. Forgetting things

Like the fact one of my favourite TV shows is on! Seriously my memory is atrocious. Useless facts like that Sputnik was launched in 1957, how to make cheese sauce, that Fluorine is the most electronegative element... No problem. So why can't I remember my past in detail so that it comes back in annoyingly short flashes that are furry round the edges? Other people can remember conversations word for word but I'm lucky if I remember having a conversation. I don't get it, it's annoying. Is there something wrong with me? Seriously.

2. Council Tax Installments.

So I pay about £1000 a year in council tax. You'd think paying in monthly installments would mean 12 payments, spread evenly. No. I have to make 9 payments, then nothing for 3 months. How does that make sense? I spend 9 months of the year skint, then just as I'm getting used to having the extra £70-odd I have to start paying again. Ridiculous!

3. Public Transport timings.

Get into the station on a train at 56 minutes past the hour. Next train home leaves exactly an hour later. An hour's wait at the station, with nothing to do but drink overpriced shit Starfucks coffee. 

4. Cleaning up other people's cock ups.

If I balls up, I clear up the mess left behind and admit I messed up. Apparently this doesn't apply to other people. Where I work relies heavily on a data trail, and when someone leaves it's meant to be easy for other people to pick up where they left off and carry on. No. I've done loads of overtime on studies that weren't assigned to me, got stressed over how much needs slotting in to my already busy schedule... ARGH! 

5. Milk going off over the weekend.

Further to my hours wait at the train station: by the time I get back home from a weekend away anywhere it's well past closing time at the little supermarket on the corner. Still, I go in the fridge for milk to make a brew to find it's gone off, even though there's still 2 days left on the date. 

6. Unexpected Letters.

I generally like getting post, and arriving home to see an NHS letter on the doormat I'm thinking 'great, it's my CBT referral finally'. So I open it and stop dead; I have to go for a smear test. How can it have been 5 years since the last one already? They're horrid things that bring back really really bad memories to the point of flashbacks that I can't escape even though I know they're in the past. Yes, I know they're lifesaving and essential, but do they have to leave you feeling so... ucky? Sympathy please!

And the half a dozen good things.

I. Tea.

Just tea. A fantastic infusion of dried leaves. It is the solution to many of life's problems, and in fact I'm going to brew up now while I wait for the second episode of Heroes *mooches off* There. One pot of tea brewing. Teapots are also immense; instead of making just one cup of tea at a time that never lasts long enough no matter how big it is, you make about 3 massive mugs at once. My two month long hunt for the 'right' teapot is now over, and when  I can be arsed taking a picture of it and it's not full of tea no doubt I will post it. Basically tea is wonderful. No dissing of the tea.

II. Cigarette Breaks.

The ONLY thing that keeps me going sometimes at work. It's only ten minutes 3 times a day but it breaks up the day and gets me out of the lab/office. It calms me down, gives me time to reset my head. It's saved a few Ks worth of equipment a good kicking sometimes too!

III. Little things.

My downstairs neighbour left me half a dozen eggs at the weekend, just because she had too many. She didn't have to do that. It was just really nice :) I like the little things that break up the constant monotony. Also random texts from people you really care about who you've thought have forgotten about you. 

IV. Lollipops.

Sweeties, but on a stick. Genius! need I say more?

V. That sense of achievement.

You know when things have gone wrong, and you work your arse off to make it better, and loads of other people chip in to make it happen? That happened to me last week. No way could I have got the study started without pretty much everyone in my department helping me. I was so greatful I bought flapjacks and chocolate brownies to share. The best thing though... we got it done together.

VI. Not having to get up.

Turning the alarm off on a Friday night because I can stay in bed as late as I want. It doesn't get better than that!

Self Harm Awareness Day - category five hangover

March 1st - more notable for being the day of the patron saint of Wales but to many people I know it's something completely different. Self Injury/Self Harm Awareness Day is an international event aimed at increasing awareness and understanding of SH. As a member of the UK's National Self Harm Network I had the pleasure yesterday of attending a wellbeing fair and charity ball with the most amazing people ever, but more on that later :)

There are many misconceptions surrounding SH, and to be perfectly honest this makes me angry sometimes. Ignorance is never an excuse, and people can be hurtful when they judge on first appearances without bothering to check out their facts, forming their opinions based upon nothing more than speculation. This morning one of our party heard someone making a comment, asking whether he should be allowed in the hotel "like that" - like that meaning with some scarring on show - in case this family's child got upset. What riles me up about this is the only reason that gave it away as self injury is everyone in the hotel knew which charity we were with. If scars were the result of an accident would the family have made that comment with complete disregard to how much they could have upset and distressed someone. 

So yeah, I'd just like to dispel a few myths about SH in the hope that someone might find this post and learn something they didn't know.

SH is attention-seeking

Most people who self injure will try their utmost to hide it from other people. It is a private action aimed at relieving the emotional distress the person is feeling. Plus, if attention-seeking is the aim of the act there are far easier and less painful ways of getting it!

SH is attempted suicide

SH is a way of coping with life, not an attempt at death. It is used as a mechanism to keep going and deal with day to day, a survival strategy. 

The injury is superficial so it's not serious

I cannot stress this enough, the severity of the injury does not in any way relate to the severity of the distress the person is feeling at the time. Everyone is different and the amount of damage done is usually the minimum necessary to ease the distress. 

People who self injure are dangerous

The whole point about self harm is just that - it's only directed at yourself. It also doesn't mean that just because a person SHs they are crazy or insane, just having a hard time at the moment and coping in the best way they can the same way some people go home and open a bottle of wine after work. 

I could go on and on about the things people have said about self harmers, generalising all of us into one nice labelled box, but if you want to know more check out NSHN and it's forum. 

My history of self harming goes back about ten years now. I've heard allsorts, been told to just stop, grow out of it etc. Mine does not class as severe, and I am harming far less frequently than I used to. There was no significant trigger to the first time I did it, no traumatic event or abuse. There was just an overwhelming feeling of self-loathing that I couldn't get relief from in any other way. Nobody put the idea in my head, I had no idea that anyone else did it but I knew that I had to lie about the injuries and keep it secret. It took a couple of years for my parents or teachers to notice, and only then because someone found my diary. The reaction I got only made me more secretive and even more determined to avoid anyone who was trying to 'help'. My instances increased in timing, severity and number, peaking at a time when my mental health was dire. I had approached my GP on a couple of occassions because I was terrified that one day the suicidal feelings I was staving off with SH were getting to the point where they couldn't be subdued. One one occassion I was told to "stop being so silly", and another time I was given antidepressants without any other type of support to work through why I felt like I did. 

Now the scars from my worst time are faded to my normal skin tone; I am very lucky with how well I heal and you can only really see the ones on my arms if you're looking closely. I haven't stopped, just moved to less visible places. I have a degree in chemistry, work full time and am slowly finding reasons to live again. Aside from my red and black hair and a tendency to dress like a goth there is nothing remarkable about me, you could walk past me in the street and not have a clue that I am depressed because that's my battle. If I trust you I may open up and share my feelings. I go out and have fun because depression and self injury are not what I use to define myself. I am me, the scars are just a part of that. 

So where's the hangover come into it?

Well, Friday night was in the bar until 3am, last night I was up until about 4:30am. There was much Blackthorn consumed, buck's fizz and gin. Unfortunately some of the aforementioned Buck's Fizz ended up being spilt down my wonderful burgundy satin ballgown at the very start of the evening. 20 minutes under the hand dryer in the ladies toilets and all was sorted, if a little sticky. I danced to some shameful tunes, drank far more than is healthy but the best of all was getting the chance to put faces to the names. I think I now have some very good friends now that they've seen past my demeanour on the forum. Hell, we even had a two man mosh pit to Killswitch Engage in someone's room. It was the ultimate 'up yours' to the people who think that people who self harm are nutters or depressed all the time because we had a fantastic time! I hope this good mood lasts because I feel better than I have in a long time.

Four glasses of wine and counting...

So, I am gallo fuelled and relatively bored. 

Been doing some thinking today/tonight. I'm not a fan of thinking because it makes me realise what a horrid person I am beneath the facade everyone else sees. A lack of preoccupation allows my mind to dwell on memories I wish were false, not because they're painful but because I'm ashamed of how I behaved at the time. I've done things I'm not proud of, and although I can now sometimes figure out why I did them and my reasons behind them it doesn't make it any better for the people I've hurt along the way. What do I do? Run away and try to make a new life. Pathetic isn't it?

Guess that's all I have right now. Sorry it's so short.

The darker side of things part I

The wind was whipping the leaves across the grass, the breeze appearing out of nowhere as the sun disappeared below the horizon. In the East the stars were already appearing amongst the black velvet of the clear sky that faded to rich purples and pinks where the last of the clouds were vanishing with the sun in the West. The park was emptying now, the keeper moving slowly around on his scooter as he locked each gate and herded the people out.

The bandstand stood isolated in the middle of a concrete square, its stone pillars a testament to the years it had stood there unchanging, the architecture unmistakeably Victorian. A single figure remained undetected by the warden, blending almost seamlessly into the scenery as she stood half concealed by one of the pillars. Her jaw length black hair was swept to one side by the gusts of wind as she watched humanity depart from this piece of the world, surrendering its world to the shadows and all which dwelled in them. The shadows were her world, the darkness part of her; no, her very essence.

Finally satisfied that no one would spot her she stepped soundlessly down the steps with unnatural grace, blinking into the darkness as she habitually lit a cigarette and pulled hard on the filter with a sigh, letting her alert posture relax a little without losing any of her composure before exhaling a long stream of smoke and breathing in the air. Beautiful. Their smell was everywhere; warm, rich, enticing and had her heart still been beating it would have sent a rush of blood to her head with the excitement. Even though they weren’t close any more the scent lingered, making her lick her lips in anticipation before finishing her cigarette and grinding the stub beneath her patent leather boot. Hands on hips she flicked back the ankle length leather trenchcoat to reveal her black mini skirt and blood red halter top. Taking one more deep breath, not to take in oxygen but for another fix of the heady aroma of life, the girl grinned a flash of white, sharp teeth and ran effortlessly into the night. 

Three is a magic number - apparently

First of all, a picture to amuse anyone who bothers reading this, courtesy of my webcam. Caption by AlmostRosey...

Please note that this is not a photoshopped image, I really do have a thing that goes on my nose and looks stupid.

If you don't get the Red Nose thing then you're obviously not from the UK. It's one of those telethon things to raise money for charity, this year's theme being "do something funny for money". Comic Relief. Always worth a watch, especially post-watershed when things get really rather twisted. I'm not doing anything sponsored, because I'm not that interesting so I bought a nose. Which came with stickers.

Anyway....

Saw Witches of Eastwick last night with people from work. There were 7 of us, and 5 including me went straight from work and had a meal. The strangest thing happened, which is probably not strange to anyone else but if you see my previous post you might get why; I felt like I belonged for a couple of hours. While we were sat at that table moaning about random shit I wasn't self conscious, I didn't worry that someone was going to notice my scars and make a comment because I'm sure they've already seen and just haven't said a word. Of course, now I'm back to normal and feeling isolated but there's hope. 

I was going somewhere else with this... then the wind and neighbours banging around a lot freaked me out. Pathetic? Probably. There are still the thoughts that appear with someone else's voice - almost my own but not - that tell me people are after me, that nowhere is safe and I will be found. Just who is after me... I wish I knew. That's the problem with a scientific mind; you always search for the why and how of things and expect a rational, logical answer. Things like this, the depression and irrational anxiety, aren't something that can be explained with a formula and it bothers me more than I let on. If I can find the missing piece of the puzzle, the one bit of data that will make the points plottable then maybe I can get through this in one piece without resorting to the plan. The trouble is that finding what's missing involves thinking about and remembering things that I've deliberately forgotten because I can't deal with them. So the question is do I go searching or just wait and see?

Two's company

Just because one post on its own looks so sad and lonely. 

I have to say that loneliness is a bane of my life. Not the most bothering, but still up there in the top 5.  I've never been one of the popular ones, which used to upset me because of how much I tried to fit in with the cool kids but now it's not so bad. I will always be one of the 'misfits', but now I embrace the individuality. I do things because they're what I want, not because they will please others. 

Still, it is hard to make new, lasting friendships when you move across the country like I did last year. The thing I miss most is being able to walk into a pub/bar and have someone say hello to me, even if they don't choose to come over and sit with me. The only time I really get to talk to people is at work, and obviously there are parts of my life I have to keep hidden there because it will make people think differently of me and make the working relationships difficult. Yes, that sounds hypocritical when you look at the paragraph above but it's not just me that does this. A lot of people adopt different personas depending on the company they're in at the time. For me, the drunken foul mouthed headbanger is as far removed from the conscientious (sp?) overtime-addicted person I am in the labs. I accept that there will be noone on the planet that I can show everything to. There are so many secrets I keep, some even from myself, but as time goes on maybe I will find a group of people such that each part of my personality feels at home. 

At home.

There's another thing entirely. Where I come from is no longer my home because when I am there I will always now be just visiting. I am out of the loop of events, my uni days are over and my friends there (the best I've ever had) seem to have forgotten me. Yet here does not feel like home. I think I'm in limbo, and I'm not sure I will ever truly settle anywhere. Things will get difficult and I will run away again. I'm almost certain of that. But life is an adventure, and sometimes the spontaneous decisions are the ones that give the most fulfillment. Right now despite the darkness returning I think I'm actually almost content, but that's for another post.

The first one

Who to blame for my inflicting my random ramblings to the internet? I think they know who they are. Who am I kidding? Of course they know.

First things first, a bit about who I am. 

I'm in my mid 20s and live in Yorkshire. Education wise I have a BSc in Chemistry which might explain any excessive geekiness that comes out in my blogs. Workwise I'm a lab monkey, working on the fate of chemicals in the environment. The non sciency side to me is, I suppose, music. Mainly I'm into the heavier side of things, but tastes are very varied and there is the odd guilty pleasure hidden in my iTunes library that would shock everyone who knows me. I'm not going to list the other things I enjoy that are along the lines of books and reading because that's just too predictable. 

I guess for now that will do, because writing about who you are never gets the story across. A person is a composite of all the tiny things that make them who they are, not something that can be captured in a list of likes, dislikes and activities. I doubt anyone will even be interested in my thoughts, but I've been convinced that it doesn't matter what I write. If what I blurt out provides someone with some insight into themselves then that would be amazing, but yet again I doubt it. There's nothing special about me, you just get what you see.