Blah mental ouch blah


Now I wait.
I wait to discover whether the miasmic pain and fatigue of late are from a source physical or psychological. Bets are still being taken. My money is split between anxiety-provoked organ dysfunction and wholesale pancreatitus.  Thanks Dr Google. You always know just what to say at times like this. GPs money is on gastritis (again?Oh come on that’s just not fair!)

I wonder how the psychological asessment process designed for grossly normal people who are stressed or depressed, will cope with all of this (gestures to ludicrous potentially staph infected face). It doesn’t bode particularly well that they didn’t want to see me initially because of my eating disorder history, but I’m certainly not going to go knocking on ED services’ door for health anxiety help!
To be honest I’m a bit nervous about this whole thing. Nervous in an uncharacteristically rational way.
I haven’t had a psychiatric or psychological assessment like this for quite a few years and the last one didn’t go so well. I fell into the gap between two services that wouldn’t help me and so wound up going private. The contradictory stories were that I was too complicated for one department buy not sick enough for the other. Sigh. I’ll have to get the balance right this time.

The form I had to pre-complete scores me as moderately severely depressed and moderately severely blighted with general anxiety disorder.
How weird. I don’t feel that depressed. I haven’t thought about killing myself or anything equally dire for ages, I can still get out of bed of a morning and haven’t gone into the weird slow motion utter braindead phase, so I figure I’m just fine on that front. Adequately functional thank you. Hopefully they won’t try to focus on that shit because this level of depressed or non- is actually perfectly tolerable. What is not tolerable is freaking out at stupid illnesses that I will never get, and about going somewhere where I will have to interact with actual people in a social setting. I really want to be able to do that…to be able to go to a party and not spend the whole time nauseously shaking and clenching my every muscle for fear of falling apart, and double thinking every damned word and movement for fear of rejection or inadvertently falling dreadfully ill. I’m such a shit person to go to the pub with. Seriously. That 1 in 100 times I actually go and don’t make some lame excuse, it’s really not worth it for everyone else’s comfort and conversation! It would be easier if I could have a few drinks and be less of a corner-hugging wide-eyed weirdo but sadly my current internal organ rebellion refuses to allow even than concession. If anxiety is to blame I’ll be pissed off. Bastard self-preserving anxiety stopping me from tolerating cns depressants.

Checking my grades for the phobias and social adjustment mcq it says I have severe social functional impairment (no shit) and who knows what the phobia questions say.

Yuck. All those categories. I know how the game works though. I’m supposed to have lower scores at the end of whatever course they give me. If they even so much as suggest I also still have an eating disorder, I’m likely to punch them in the face. Ok maybe not but at the very least I won’t be impressed.

Creativity has taken a hiatus while I try to figure this mess out. The prize for most unremarkable post of the day goes to me and my tireless fear of life and death.

Ego on self-destruct.


What a damned exhausting and confounding week.
That’s certainly not what I had in mind fate….such a shame we don’t see eye to eye even when I’m sober.

What started off so promisingly at work degenerated quickly into an impressive spiral of clumsiness, forgetfulness, overthinking, overanalysing, and vicious self judgement. Let me illustrate;

I know exactly what I’m doing, I’m just so damned awesome at this shit. Disciples! Let me show you the way.
Oh hang on, is that right?
Oh bollocks I’m doing it wrong, I’m sooooo stupid, good job I realised early on.
Phew! Ok it’s all fixed but, why did I think I was right in the..
Oh fuck…I was right to begin with!!! Bugger bugger bugger!!! I’m such a bloody retard!
Breathe, focus.
Ok NOW it’s fixed.
Tralalalala all OK onboard the good ship pickle.
Now let’s taste the scientific pudding we have baked.
It’s an utter shite-fest! Omg! I’m a failure. This makes no sense. I make no sense, words and numbers are scrambling into a giant panic-ridden storm of figurative fecal matter. I’m so fucking depressed, my boss fucking hates me and my ridiculous mistakes.

Ok then a fresh day, I’ll try to make this a good one.
All good, a few minor blips but let’s keep this show rolling because this time it really is a demonstration. Shame I keep telling the students what a fuckup I made yesterday but ho-hum.
So now you do this and
what the FUCK?! No,no,no that’s no right! Erm, you’d better step away from watching this around about now. Don’t worry this won’t happen when you do this…its all under um control..
Jesus, what a debacle! I can’t even do this thing that I developed. How can I expect someone else to do it? Why am I so useless and pathetic?

Right, time to taste the second albeit horrendously ugly scientific pudding. Let’s put it alongside yesterday’s carcass for fun.
Um….really? They are both fine. Actually, they are both delicious and almost record breaking.
Why. The fuck. Do I keep telling myself that I’m a damned moron???? How about because it’s handy when I have go explain go the boss lady that actually after having a giant sulk about everything being shit and stupid and wrong, although I did do some silly stuff, it was all OK in the end.

It’s exhausting work all this emotional roller-coastering. Anyone would have though I’d forgotten my meds.

Oh. I did.

How helpful.

I hope you can tell how hard it is for me to not just write down what an idiot that makes me.

Oh look I did it anyway.

Is this what med-free life is like? Damn! How do people cope?

Well other stuff happened, like beer throwing, fake blood, asthma, hersheys vomit flavoured kisses, actual vomit (not mine), and further blah but I can’t be bothered to elaborate. It’s all bullshit anyway.

I need a nice long sleep.

“I’m not afraid of happy endings,
I’m just afraid my life won’t work that way”~jack off jill, fear of dying

Storms through clouded glass


Not such a peaceful start to the week, chattering dreams, condensation on the glass, but maybe some beauty can be found. I trace my finger gently around the window pane, somewhere below the squeaking point, sways of idle swirls emerging from my heat. When the balance of clarity and mist is met, I step back and observe the view through my protective design,  It may not be art but I wish I could hold this moment in time, and say I made my temporary mark, but no such things exists in this space, and so I watch my design fading back into misty oblivion. No-one is here to see my scrawls, is there anyone out there anymore? Any more blurred faces on pinched frames pruning their roses and feigning indifference to the thought I cared? Repeatedly singed fingertips remind of my affliction, and so with sooted digits I systematically smeared all the faces, all the eyes dislocated from their sockets and spread around their sorry bodies. I had lost my spectators, and individuality was something reserved for myself and those able to show their fearless expression through even the murk of this clouded existence. I suppose somewhere behind the blurs there must still be a whole other world, but I have tasted its bitter fruit, and was beaten for spitting sour seeds to make a picture in my head. A matter of taste. Artless. Soul bleached yellow and mildewed beyond redemption, so I’m told, but how can small fragments of beauty spill from even such a thing as me? All this flocculant meditation before so much coffee has passed my lips.

I guess I took it pretty hard when something or some one who tickled my slumbering thoughts and graced poetic intentions bit hard when I was only playing tough to protect them. If only I didn’t care, but once someone pushes through my smokey screen, that’s it. I care too much. It’s too late by the time I finally focus on their features. I trusted them enough to let them see me. Too stupid to suspect a thief or spy in my house. I need them to hurt me enough that I can smudge their image from my castle gallery, but some spirits just won’t put their teeth in, leaving me to wonder if they even meant it. Well? Did she? My precious circle is closing in, the fog thickens and I have seen in dreams the storm circling me until only I remain in the eye right until it blinks out. If I could paint, I would capture the stormy smudged perimeter of my tornado the dust of some thousand strange faces, as the instant the lashes sweep me out. I’m staring into all those eyes, one behind the other, wondering what my protection has cost me.

“I swore that I
Could survive any storm”
~tori amos, snow cherries from France


The faces I once knew are scattered across existence. Stretching from the tangible present into the ethereal realms of what comes after, and what remains inside. Each one working their way into something better, something stronger, something more complete. A thousand sets of invisible footprints splaying out from where I stand, reaching out into rich dreams and luxuriant landscapes. Here I stand alone, and spinning, watching you ride on away, and you don’t even look back. Maybe I told you, and maybe I didn’t. Maybe I never spoke the words so you understood that I needed you here. But maybe you chose to stay away from this stagnant ground. Word upon word echoing around asking what comes next. Every path is rigged with disappointment, every blade in-between, with despair. I’m losing you all in the depth of the spaces between us. I’m crippled with fears that prevent me from running to meet you. Each step is like singeing my soles. For now I’m incarcerated in a prison of my own dread. No-one warns you about how scarred you can be, even once you are healed.

“Just a little breath on the water now
Just a little strength in our hearts,
Enough to heal”

Sorry gorse, I forgot that you existed.. plus other thoughts


The British countryside is awash with spring signs. The lambs bouncing around the fields, the primroses and daffodils sprouting as punctuate golden flares and the great swathes of yellow gorse in flower. I’m sorry gorse, I totally forgot about you for a while there, and so as recompense I will forgive you for being bedecked in such a gaudy hue.

I’m trying my best to maintain a good mood and not let myself wallow at all. Its easter and neither of my parents have any interest in seeing me. One is busy and the other didn’t bother to contact me for months, and I suppose I’m meant to feel guilty that I’m such a dreadful person that they kept putting off contacting me, but I really think this time it is not my fault. Not only that but we are currently visiting SOs family, so I get the joy of being treated as the lowest class of citizen, being both female and young, and not to mention the fact that all three of them think I’m simple. Rather than get swamped in hopeless thoughts of self-doubt and insecurity I’d rather look at the clouds and do some work on the computer, lose myself in reams of data and pathways, lending a pleasant reminder that my career is great and reminding me of a place where I am both appreciated and respected.

I got my boss, the assistant director, to wheel me down a corridor in an office chair…nor no reason other than frivolity. You don’t get that sort of offer every day so I took the throne and  giggled like a two-year-old as I flew down the hall 🙂 powered by the boss lady.

Apparently I haven’t done my full quota of housework for a month. So why is it that rather than make up for my erstwhile slack, I  am spending time finding books by Carl Jung? Why is the interplay between anima and animus, or the collective unconscious more urgent to me than that tangled Web of purples and inky black fabrics that really should be in the washing basket, or better still, washing machine! Perhaps restructuring my value system by reading the forefathers of modern psychology will help me to be a little more practical in times when that is required?

I have treated myself to a new shiny hair product in the shape of kerastase initialiste. This guy is some concoction of delicious smelling goop that is meant to make your hair stronger and shinier. This will come in handy because frankly I’m sick of finding more of my hair in the plughole or hoover than on my head…so the trial has begun. Watch this space!

“We’re just haunted in our skins
By all that could’ve been
You hide it from your face but it still shows”~ida, so long

Mbti personality test fun

First off, here is sox having a big silly roll in the sunshine.(spring, is that you???)


Now for something a little different.

The boss lady just got back from a Management course and was raving about Myers-Briggs personality testing, and how interesting it was, as if psychology was something that has only just been invented! If you’ve never heard of it, the test classifies people into 16 different personality types.
She came out as a physical chemist type, erm ISTJ if I remember correctly. So obviously, I was interested to see what I was. Turns out I’m INFP, so I’m a good moderator, I pay no attention to everyday stuff like washing up(Oh shit I’d better do that before SO gets home), I daydream, I live my life based on how I feel, and lose the power of logic when under pressure (sound like me?). What it also says is that I’m better at communication via paper vs verbally (duh!) and am always looking for the good in people, and remaining open-minded unless someone violates my values, at which point I become aggressively defensive (sound familiar?). Sadly the boss lady was thinking now that maybe she should give ‘extrovert’ people less of a hard time about blurting out ideas without thinking…..looking at me….but…I’m definately introverted, so why do I do that? Now she’s going to think that I have thought that stuff through thorough …when I really haven’t!!

I guess there are others out there like me who have an insatiable desire to fix people’s problems, to help them through difficult times and make everything harmonious and utopian.
Incidentally being infp makes me more prone to depression (probably because real life isn’t as awesome as my idealistic fantasy world).

How altogether fascinating. So maybe I’m not just lazy, selfish and irrational after all?!

Go and have a try and see what yours comes out as…I wonder if they got you spot on, or if some people don’t quite fit in those 16 boxes and require more sophisticated psychological modelling 🙂

“We were so aimless
But so filled with purpose”~ida, do you remember

Repeat after me: “I am an idiot”

Brace yourself.

I have managed something really special today, even for me. I measured out 2.5ml of liquid fluoxetine in a syringe for an oral dose, then not paying attention to the angle, squirted it on the back of my throat, choked, couldn’t breath for a couple of mins, freaked out, and of course, had an obligatory panic attack. Once I could breathe again I called  an out of hours Dr because my throat felt like it was burning through into my lungs. I’m so embarrassed, of course I’ll survive without intervention, what was I thinking? That the prozac would dissolve my trachea? (yes, yes that’s exactly what I was thinking). The lovely people at the end of the phone asked me if I have ebola a few times (not even I think I have ebola…) and whether I’d taken an overdose (nope, nothing that exciting I’m afraid!) they established that actually I was fine except for a bit sweaty and coughy. I was to go away, take a paracetamol and regret agreeing to this call being shared with my regular Dr. So the moral of the story is thus: when taking liquid medicines, don’t do what I did, dispense onto your tongue like a normal person…Ok?

Can you imagine dying from choking on prozac? I think I’d deserve a Darwin award for that…

“Shame is the shadow of love”~pj Harvey, shame